#and the word appalling— god he WOULD say that. it’s EMBARRASSING to him! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

niningtori · 6 months

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let me into your world | chapter one: my world is mine

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi soobin x you

summary: you're a hopeless romantic waiting for your soulmate, but what do you do when you finally find him and he doesn't want you?

genre(s): romance, angst, angst with a happy ending (?), soulmate au

word count: 7.1k

notes: for some reason, i feel SO embarrassed to post this. it was the first series i ever wrote, so it's getting a facelift before seeing the light of day, but it's still a little flabby in some places. bear with me, please! also, shoutout to evie for this layout with the lyrics in the center :') i'm tired of looking at my own uglyass posts so much omg. see ending for more notes!

your soulmate is perfect in every way, or so you've been told, and you're sick of waiting to find out. everyone says meeting your soulmate is like finding the other half you never had, so when the yearning had started when you were a teen, you were eager to find him and put an end to your constant ache. it would be impossible to know who it was until your seal appeared on your skin. where it would land and what it would look like, you weren't sure, but you knew it couldn't come fast enough. in theory, he would complement you in every way. you imagine someone quiet, a little shy, maybe. someone thoughtful, someone patient and understanding. you just hope to god he's everything you wish him to be.

beomgyu has had just about enough of soulmate talk, but unfortunately for him, it's inescapable. when he turned 13, the yearning had already started for most of his peers. when his friends asked if he felt similarly, he simply shrugged his shoulders with a smug little grin while musing that he might not even have a soulmate — maybe he was just partnerless. some of his friends, like taehyun and kai, were appalled by this, almost pitying him. half of his heart was missing, after all. some of his other friends, however, were a bit jealous. their reasoning was "it'd be nice to not be chained down by someone you don't even know". he agreed with the latter sentiment, having seen the effects of being chained to somebody firsthand.

he remembers watching his mother wither away. she had loved his father more than anyone, even him, and got scraps of affection in return. they weren't soulmates — her perfect other half had died not long after she met him, but his father became her second and last love. he didn't concern himself with soulmate talk and eventually married beomgyu's mother. they were happy, very happy, until beomgyu was around 10 and his father met his so-called soulmate. he remembers the sheer despair on his mother's face as she found out her husband was leaving seemingly out of nowhere, her life uprooted because of a fucking pattern imprinted on her lover's skin.

they weren't soulmates, but beomgyu watched his mother die a little every day until she finally passed. dying of a broken heart was the only way he could explain what happened to her, and she did all that for a man who wasn't even her soulmate. if soulmates could make you kill someone innocent for your love, he didn't want to find his at all. if love could make you abandon everything you've ever known, well, he simply didn't want to know what it felt like.

college is a turning point for you, you feel. you had a good time in high school, but you're nearing the average age of the seal and you're more than prepared to find your special someone. you couldn't know for sure, but you have a feeling none of the boys in your high school were your other half.

"why don't you date just to get some experience?" sumin asks somewhat exasperatedly. you had rejected yet another guy with seemingly good intentions for practically no reason.

"i don't know, i guess i just don't want to waste my time on anybody else when i already know my soulmate is out there waiting on me," you shrug. "i want to save all my firsts for him."

"you're hopeless, you know?" she snorts.

"yeah," you smile, "but he's probably the same way." she teases you good-naturedly for this, but even she agrees that you'll most likely fall for a guy just as hopelessly in love as you are. he wouldn't even have to try very hard — you're willing to put in however much effort it takes to find him and love him unconditionally. all he needs to do is reciprocate and you would do the rest.

unfortunately for you, time has passed and you're nearing the end of your time in college with no soulmate in sight. you'd be more upset about it if you weren't so fucking busy with school work and trying to line up a job post-graduation. you're so wound up lately that sumin practically forces you to let loose and go to a house party. needless to say, they aren't particularly your scene. you like to drink just as much as anybody else does, you guess, but that doesn't mean you want to reek of shitty beer, sweat, and premarital sex, which will undoubtedly be the case once you step into a college house party. still, she is as persistent as you are exhausted and you're too defeated to fight.

you're fairly bored after fifteen minutes or so of loitering around all the action, never really joining in on the antics of your friends and all the other party goers unless you absolutely have to. you're absentmindedly kicking around a beer can when it rolls away, straight in front of a couch. you go to kick it again when you look up and see him.

you can't keep your eyes off of him. you've found people attractive before, but he's probably the most beautiful person — maybe even the most beautiful thing — you've ever seen. your heart almost stops when you look at him.

in that moment, the idea that he could be the one blooms in your head and you can't help but stare. you don't how long you keep your eyes locked on him, but he eventually looks up at you and his eyes widen for a split second. you're almost positive he feels what you feel, but not even a moment later, he pulls out what you can only describe as a lascivious smirk as his eyes travel up and down your figure. you feel like meat on display rather than his sacred other half. before you know it, a girl is sliding into his lap and he's turning away from you and planting a heavy kiss on her glossy lips while groping her ass.

"that's beomgyu," sumin says and you're snapped back into reality. "he's really hot, but he's slept with pretty much every girl here."

you're somewhat disappointed before you realize you must be mistaken. there's no way a man like that could be your soulmate. you strangle the bud of hope in your heart mercilessly because your soulmate is somewhere waiting for you and you can't afford to lose him over some pretty boy with community dick.

you said you'd avoid him, but beomgyu is the first one you notice when you walk into the first class of your final semester as a college student. his eyes lock with yours and you hurriedly avert your gaze before sliding into the nearest seat.

"hi," a sweet voice from next to you says. you jolt and turn to look at him.

"sorry, i didn't mean to scare you," he laughs.

"it's okay, i'm just a little jumpy, i guess," you grin sheepishly.

"i'm soobin," he smiles and you can see his dimples come out. you briefly wonder if he'd mind if you poked them, but that sounds weird even to you.

you introduce yourself and find you're forgetting all about beomgyu as you and soobin begin to chat. he's funny in a dorky kind of way, and you can't help but giggle at the seemingly unassuming things he says.

beomgyu notices you when you first walk in because of course he does, but he sees you sit next to soobin, a guy he met in freshman year, and feels a sense of loss he's never felt before. he watches as you grin and giggle at whatever lame jokes the boy next to you is almost certainly making and his eyes darken. yeonjun, his longtime friend and desk mate, notices his sour mood and asks what's wrong. beomgyu can't really answer that question. even he himself doesn't know why he feels so against you, a stranger, spending time with another guy, but he chalks it up to the fact that he thinks you're hot and would very much like to get in your pants as soon as possible.

he supposes he should have done so when he first saw you, but duty called when one of his frequent flyers sat in his lap and he couldn't very well ignore the way her chest swayed in front of him. he doesn't think about it much more deeply than that. he doesn't want to think about how your eyes seem to indicate that you know him — have known him — and he feels the same way about you. he toys with the idea of maybe asking you if you two knew each other at some point, but deep down, he knows he'd never forget you if he actually had known you before. he tries not to think about why that is.

a few weeks into the semester, you've sat next to soobin every day and it's safe to say you have a tiny little crush on him, but you know he's not your soulmate when he rolls his sleeves up one day and you spot a green seal on his wrist. you roll up your own sweater, just to be sure, but there's no pretty green tattoo to match. he spots your empty wrist and the expression on his face looks an awful lot like disappointment.

"i don't really care about that stuff, you know?" he whispers as your professor drones on and on about something you've stopped listening to long ago.

"really?" you ask a little too eagerly before reining yourself back in. what are you doing? you have a soulmate and he's waiting for you.

"really, really," he smiles. you prepare to launch into a long speech about the sanctity of soulmates and how you're waiting devoutly for yours, but instead of pushing the subject any further, he simply turns to the professor again and you're left reeling.

you're pulled back to your senses when the professor announces everyone will be paired up with a partner for an assignment. you and soobin grin at each other and are ready to begin prepping for the project when your professor adds that the partners will be completely random. when he calls soobin's name, your fingers are crossed in hopes that you'll somehow still get lucky, but he ends up pairing him with another classmate named yeonjun. you start getting a sinking feeling, something akin to dread, and you don't know why. clarity overwhelms you when you register that the person your professor opts to pair you with is none other than choi beomgyu.

beomgyu is late to your first library appointment together and though you didn't expect anything less from him, you're still annoyed when he arrives nearly 15 minutes after the scheduled time with nothing but a mumbled "sorry" and a cheeky grin.

"it's fine," you offer, but you both know you're irritated. you're a little bit of a pushover by nature and it's like he could immediately sniff it out. he doesn't even make an attempt to seem like he cares, though.

"are you ready to get started?" you ask.

"of course, what are you waiting for?" you roll your eyes at his shamelessness, frustration melting away without you intending for it to. you're kind of shy, but his presence is so comforting, it's like you've known him for years, so you dare to say your next words without much thought.

"you, smartass." he looks a little appalled at your words but he registers it as a joke when he notices the corner of your lips struggling not to pull themselves up, eyes gazing mischievously from beneath your eyelashes. not for the first time, he thinks you're really pretty. but he, not for the first time, says nothing.

after a few meet ups, you realize being with beomgyu is easier than you thought it would be. sure, he's incredibly obnoxious, but he's surprisingly easy to talk to. he invites you to his apartment one day and, as if he senses your apprehension before you can even feel it yourself, he states his roommate will be there as well. you try not to read too much into it, but you have a feeling he's implying that he won't make any moves on you. you're grateful for this, but unexpectedly a bit disappointed. as for why that is, you don't venture to guess.

being in his apartment is a new feeling entirely. it feels oddly... intimate somehow when you enter his bedroom and see all of his posters, his messy bed, and some vinyls stacked up against his record player. he nonchalantly puts one on and you gasp when you recognize the song.

"i love this band," you say quickly. his eyebrows raise in interest.

"you like them too?"

"of course i do! i've loved them since i was a teenager," you laugh.

"do you like their newer stuff?"

you wrinkle your nose a little bit at this, your answer evident. he laughs his signature squeaky laugh at this and you can't help but stare in awe at his dimples, like whiskers, appearing on his cheeks. you clear your throat awkwardly and begin to talk about the project.

after a few hours and some really great progress, you find you're a little hungry. you're about to mention this, but beomgyu beats you to the punch.

"i'm starving. want pizza?" you smile when you realize you're on the exact same page.

"thought you'd never ask."

you're sitting on his couch now, wolfing down your third piece of pizza while beomgyu slurps the cheese off of his. he's talking about absolutely nothing, but he's still easily drawing more and more laughter out of you with his antics. you tell him to stop because you hate your laugh, but he's addicted to the sound. he wants to keep you laughing. words like "always" and "forever" briefly flicker across his mind, and usually he would force them out with conviction, but he's having such a good time hearing you giggle he can't pay attention to much else. he never says it or gives any indication he feels that way, though. he just tells you "i can't help that i'm so fucking funny and charming and beautiful." you lightly smack the back of his head and he's giggling with you.

things are going remarkably well when his roommate emerges from his room and says a few of his friends will be coming over soon. you don't particularly want to hang around them and you certainly don't want to overstay your welcome, but beomgyu, for reasons unknown, insists that you stick around.

"we can just relax for a bit then get back to work. c'mon, don't you wanna finish this thing?"

"fine, fine, fine. i'll stay." his face lights up at your words and you can't help but blush a little bit at this. why he's so excited, you have no clue. what you also don't know is he has no idea why he's so excited, either.

a few minutes later, a few guys enter the apartment boisterously and you can't help but internally regret sticking around. beomgyu, almost preternaturally, senses how uncomfortable you are and makes an effort to introduce you and include you in conversation. things are going well until one of the guys, whose name you don't know but whose face seems vaguely familiar, makes an offhanded comment.

"y'know, gyu, she's actually very smart. maybe you'll actually pass." the entire group bursts into laughter and joke about his supposed stupidity and laziness.

"he's actually very helpful. i couldn't do this without him," you counter with a little edge to your voice.

"maybe you're not deadweight after all," he says sarcastically. beomgyu just smirks and goes along with it. to the untrained eye, he seems perfectly fine, but to you, he just looks kind of sad. you pull out your phone and decide to text him.

you don't have to laugh if you don't think it's funny

he looks up at you and you nod encouragingly.

it's fine i really am kinda dumb

don't say things you don't mean. you're not their dancing monkey here to entertain them and you're not a fucking punching bag

his heart feels a little sour at this. how did you know he was hurt by their comments, no matter how seemingly harmless they were? even his own friends didn't seem to notice, but somehow, you did. you always seem to notice the little changes within him. like when he's tired and doesn't want to show it, you offer to take breaks or meet another day. or when he's stressed out so you try to wrangle even the smallest of smiles out of him — real ones, that is. he wants to say you're just a thoughtful and perceptive person, but in reality, he thinks it's a little more complicated than that.

it's beomgyu's birthday, which should be a happy occasion, but for some reason, you feel like shit. you wonder if it's a mix of anxiety because of the project or maybe because your time in college is coming to the end, but it feels so much more profound than that. you woke up this morning from a fitful sleep and it feels like there's a hole blown through your heart. if you feel like shit, you don't look much better, but you have to meet with beomgyu at his apartment and you can't be late.

"whoa, you look absolutely awful," he muses when he opens the door and sees you with two appalling dark circles under your eyes.

"wow, thanks, asshole," you mumble. you did, indeed, look and feel like utter shit, but being here seems to bring a sense of relief you did not anticipate.

"hey, i'm just kidding, you look pretty," he laughs. he's been saying things like this, lately. you can't deny the way your heart skips a beat, but you shoot down any further thoughts because you know, know, know he sleeps around and you know that seemingly off-the-cuff comments like this are probably part of the reason why he's able to do so as easily as he does. you're not to be trifled with, though, so instead of letting the comment fly off your back as you usually would, your mouth opens before you know it.

"not as pretty as you, beoms," you smirk. you don't know exactly what you expected, but his ears turning a rosy pink isn't it.

"o-okay," he says sheepishly, clearing his throat. you find him criminally endearing in this moment, and for once, you don't mentally slap yourself for it.

"oh yeah. happy birthday!" you say, pulling out a cupcake and decisively putting an end to the awkwardness.

"thanks," he says with a smile before eyeing you suspiciously. "is this poisoned?"

"give it back," you say monotonously and he giggles when you try to snatch it away from him.

"hey, i'm just kidding! thank you!" he says as he takes a bite and his eyes widen in surprise.

"mmm, how'd you know this flavor's my favorite?"

"i dunno, i didn't. i just kinda figured you'd like it," you shrug. you walk towards his coffee table, which is where you all have been working lately, and again he's plagued with the idea that you know him far more deeply than you should.

working with beomgyu usually goes smoothly, but you're exhausted. you're still incredibly sad for no reason, but being with him makes you feel less... empty? you would try to put a name to the feeling, but you're too tired to do so at the moment.

"want some coffee?" he asks as he watches you yawn for the umpteenth time since you've been here.

"please," you say sleepily. he smiles and gets up from the floor as you bury your head in your hands.

beomgyu has been in a relatively good mood since you've been here, and not just because it's his birthday. he can't explain why, but his mouth has pretty much been etched into a curve ever since you got here. he catches a glimpse of his smiling face in the mirror of his living room before opting to fix his hair a little, mindful of how he looks in front of you. when he does this, he feels a rough patch of skin behind his right ear. he's confused when he runs his fingers over it and feels grooves and lines where there shouldn't be.

he quickly pulls out his phone and takes a picture. what he sees horrifies him. a seal. it's pink and delicate, but has a complicated pattern he couldn't even begin to replicate. the day he's been dreading for years has finally come. he stares at the picture before shaking his head and ruffling his hair to cover it again. no. this changes nothing. he won't let this ruin his day — his life.

he moves to the kitchen and begins to prepare your coffee. when he reenters the living room, he hears you lightly snoring with your head resting on the coffee table. he smiles in spite of himself and places the coffee down. he wants to say you look peaceful, but your eyebrows are furrowed like there's something you can't quite figure out.

he chuckles softly to himself before subconsciously pushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear. that's when he sees it. pink like a blooming flower and as complicated in its pattern as the one on his head. he hurriedly pulls his phone out and compares the picture of his seal to the one behind your ear. he already knows, but he has to be completely sure. he's not surprised in the slightest when he comes to the conclusion that they are, indeed, the same.

when you awaken, you feel a pit in your stomach and you're genuinely on the verge of tears. someone would think you'd had a nightmare, but you hadn't. you're stuck in a whirlwind of emotions when you're snapped away from them by a soft baritone voice.

"you awake?" beomgyu asks.

"shit, i'm sorry!" you exclaim, wiping the drool off of your face and straightening up your hair. "how long has it been?"

"i dunno, an hour or two?" he says nonchalantly. you sense some resentment in his tone and you feel beyond apologetic.

"god, i'm so sorry. let's just finish this really quick and i'll get going. i'm sure you want to be done with this and celebrate your birthday," you say embarrassedly.

"i already finished it," he says, and even through your sleepiness, you feel his disdain.

"you... finished it? alone?"

"why? do you think i'm not capable of doing it by myself?"

"no! not at all! i just feel bad that you had to do it alone," you exclaim.

"well, it's done. so you can leave now," he says, not without urgency.

"leave? but i —" but what? but i wanted to spend more time with you? that doesn't sound right, but that's what you feel.

"you can leave now," he repeats with disgust that you can't quite understand.

"o-okay. i'll get my stuff and go, but shouldn't we review everything together just in case?"

"i have plans, so no," he says firmly. you have no idea why he's so angry. you want to say it's because he had to finish the project alone while you were knocked out and drooling on his coffee table, but it feels much deeper than that.

"thanks for finishing everything. again, i'm so sorry," you say as you gather your things and head for the door. beomgyu is ready to shut the door behind you when you look back to him and softly say "happy birthday, beoms." and the door slams shut.

when you get home, the first thing you do is cry. the pain in your heart is suffocating. you so badly want to know what it is that's causing this seemingly out of nowhere pain, but you can't put your finger on it to save your life. you decide to shower and have another good cry. after you shower, you look in the mirror as you twist your hair up in a towel. your fingertips rub against a rough patch behind your ear when you do so and you're stunned before you register what it is. you take a picture to get a better look at it, but you already kinda know what to expect: a seal.

it's more beautiful than you imagined it'd be, but instead of joy, all you feel is dread. but why? a seal is a happy thing. you should feel relieved to finally have it on you and he should, too. you ponder over this and come to the conclusion that it's not your pain you're feeling, but your soulmate's. you've heard about soulmates feeling each other's emotions before, though it was somewhat rare. the question is: why is he so sad? you don't know how, but you instinctively know it has to do with the seal appearing and it makes you drop to the bathroom floor in tears. this isn't how you wanted it to be. you clutch your chest, willing your heart to stop pounding so hard, but it doesn't.

beomgyu has been avoiding you, that much is clear. as to why that is, you have no idea. he used to greet you and strike up conversation, project be damned. you want to think about this more, but the depression you feel makes it hard to think clearly about, well, anything, really. you feel an emptiness you've never known before, and you can't help but feel like being with him would make it better. in a way, you're glad he finished the project alone because you're sure you wouldn't have been able to be much help at all.

when you walk into the class you share, his absence puts you at a loss you don't understand. you remember that soobin is yeonjun's partner and ask him if he knows anything about beomgyu's whereabouts. he shakes his head.

"i don't know the details, but yeonjun said he's been bummed ever since he got his seal." ever since he got his seal? that means he must have gotten it recently, just like you. the cogs in your brain start to turn and you feel the dread in your stomach again.

"why?” you ask tentatively.

"i dunno. i think he might not like his soulmate, but he won't talk about it any more than that," he shrugs. "hey, are you okay?"

you nod before touching the seal behind your ear. you feel another pang in your heart. what if... what if he has the same seal? what if... beomgyu is your soulmate?

after class, you practically sprint out of the room and to beomgyu's apartment. you pound on his door impatiently and when he doesn't answer, you pound even louder.

"what are you doing here?" he hisses when he swings the door open. you flinch a little, but you're determined to get some answers. you falter when you notice a girl, haphazardly dressed, appearing from behind him.

"who's this, beomie?" she says, voice silky smooth.

"kick rocks," he says simply. she shrugs and makes her way past you while fiddling with her clothes. you don't have to guess what they just got finished doing, and it hurts, hurts, hurts.

"who's that?" you say, eyes glassy.

"what are you doing here?" he asks again, actually a little embarrassed, but never showing an ounce of it. you storm into his apartment and he shuts the door behind you.

"show me your seal," you say determinedly.

"what? no," he answers defensively.

you reach for his long hair to lightly tuck it behind his pierced ears. he wants to stop you, but he can't bear the thought of batting away your hand. he hears you inhale a sharp breath as you see the pink seal behind his ear and he feels his chest becoming heavier and heavier.

"how long have you known?"

"since my birthday," he answers after a slight pause.

"and when were you gonna tell me?"

"probably never," he says truthfully. your hand drops to your side and he subconsciously misses the way your touch felt.

"why?"

"because... because i don't want a soulmate."

"what's so bad about me?" you ask as your lips tremble.

"it's not just you," he sighs. "i've never wanted a soulmate."

"then what's so bad about soulmates?"

"i just don't want one and you can't make me," he snaps and you wince, so he tries again. "look, you're a nice girl and everything, but it's never gonna happen between us, so you need to stop trying."

"even without the seal, i'd still have feelings for you. that's how much you mean to me." he looks a little taken aback by this, as if he never expected to hear those words from you or anyone, really, and it makes your heart ache. "can't you just give me a chance?" you look so earnest right now, but he's almost sadistically dedicated to squashing the sprout of hope that is almost certainly peeking out of you right now.

"no, i can't. you're not my type at all. if we weren't soulmates i'd never even look at you." he's lying but if he's not cruel now, he knows you'll never let go.

"but we are soulmates and you are looking at me right now."

"for god's sake, you're not hearing what i'm saying. i will never love you, alright? i tried to be nice about it but you keep pushing me. you look fucking pathetic right now."

your frown deepens, eyes reddened and hot. as a last ditch effort, you hurriedly say your next words.

"i can feel your pain," you whisper and his eyes widen. "i know you feel it every day. i know you're empty and you need somebody — why can't i be that person? i-i'll be whatever you need me to be." you've taken your heart and served it on a silver platter. all he has to do is hold it.

"because you're not what i need! you're not even what i want!"

the silence that follows will haunt him for the rest of his life. you look so small right now, so fragile. he almost wants to take everything back, but he remembers what soulmates mean and what they can do to a person. he looks at how vulnerable you are, how your heart is bleeding in front of him and how easily he can and will break it. he never wants to give anyone that power over him. no fucking way.

"i can feel your pain," you try again, and before he can reply you continue. "can you at least feel mine?" you look absolutely devastated with your eyebrows furrowed pleadingly, sobs racking your body. you look like you're going to be sick.

"i can't and i don't wanna," he answers flippantly with a shrug and a lopsided smile. "that's how much you mean to me." he knows exactly what to say and how to say it, the way only somebody who really knows you ever can. it's the final nail in the coffin for you. you will lock your heart for him in it and bury it as deep as it'll go.

"i've been waiting for you, you know? always. always." your eyes trail down to his hastily thrown on shirt and hickeys adorning his neck. at this, his jaw clenches and his eyes actually close in shame. you're not sure where your pain ends and his begins, but for the first time, you don't really care. a burning rage fills your heart and your dignity demands to be taken seriously for the first time. you're a doormat, sure, but you won't be anymore. not for him, anyway.

"i don't want to see you anymore. don't you ever fucking talk to me again," you finish and with a spin on your heel you're sprinting towards the door.

you are true to your word. when you walk into class after the entire debacle, you don't even spare him a glance. even if you can feel his gaze on you, you remain perfectly unfazed. he asked for this, he thinks. it's the way it should be. still, nothing really consoles him when he sees how tired you look. he can't feel your pain, but he can very well see it, and he wishes he could take it away. he regrets what he said to you, but he knows you'd never give up if he had given you even a sliver of a way out.

you're a good girl, though. a lot of people will come your way if you'll just let them. he feels a pang in his chest when he thinks about what they'll be like. he doesn't like to imagine it very much, but his thoughts wander that way more than he'd like to admit. he can't fathom anyone being good enough for you, really. especially not him.

do you feel the way he hates himself for the way he has to treat you? he doesn't know for sure, but he's pretty convinced when he sees you put your head in your hands, shoulders shaking. soobin quietly asks if you're alright before you bolt out of the room.

it's an end of the year house party thrown by soobin's new friend and former project partner, yeonjun. you truly, honest to god, do not want to go, but sumin really wants you to and you feel guilty because you're unsure when you'll see her again after graduation.

you sit almost catatonically as she does your hair and makeup, dressing you as if you're some kind of doll. when she's finished playing dress-up, you have to give credit where it's due. you look like a new person, but you can still feel the rotten old you underneath the shiny veneer, and it doesn't feel very good at all.

you're sitting in a circle, passing a blunt around when someone mentions him. it's innocuous enough, but you still flinch when you hear it. they joke about how he's probably upstairs getting his dick wet with some exchange student who's only here for a semester. you don't think that's true, if only because you can feel the pull and it feels so fucking lonely and isolated there can't possibly be anyone else around him, but it still hurts to hear all the same.

sumin gets blackout drunk fairly quickly, which is nothing new. what is new, however, is how you match her shot for shot and chug for chug. you know in your head that you should stop, but your heart keeps telling you to drown it, drown it, drown it until you can't feel the pull anymore. so you do.

"my god, you're drunk!" yeonjun exclaims when you're literally about to fall over and bust your head open.

"i'm not drunk, you're drunk!" you hiccup. he almost laughs before he sees you grip your stomach and gag. he thinks it's the alcohol, but in reality, you feel the loneliness beomgyu felt dissipating and you can only imagine what he's doing to cope. fuck, you didn't want to feel this.

"c'mon, girl. don't throw up here. let's go to the bathroom." he leads you up the stairs into some shitty bathroom that doesn't even have toilet paper. you kneel in front of the toilet and let yourself go, tears marring your carefully crafted makeup.

yeonjun gently grabs your loose hair and twists it into a makeshift ponytail. when he sweeps the last few strands from behind your ears, he sees it. all pretty and pink, ornate but unassuming. the seal you share with beomgyu.

"oh fuck," he says simply. you're drunk, too drunk, but even you know what he means.

"don't... don't look at it," you hiccup as a fresh wave of tears stream down your cheeks. "i want it gone," you whine, futilely scraping at it with your fingernails. in your head, you know it won't do anything. seals are permanent and even a tattoo couldn't cover it — it'd just resurface. in your aching heart, though, the thought of having beomgyu's matching seal makes you sick and you're willing to do almost anything to get it off of you.

"what the fuck is going on here?" a voice you'd recognize from anywhere emerges from the bathroom doorway. soobin. "what happened to you?!"

he's kneeling down to your level and wiping the mascara from under your eyes. yeonjun is still holding your hair back, so it's only a matter of time before the seal catches soobin's eye. it takes him a second to place where exactly he's seen it before, but once he does he murmurs a simple "oh shit."

you'd laugh at the similar reactions from the two boys if you felt anything other than misery at the moment. soobin grabs a rag from god knows where and wets it to tenderly brush around your lips. yeonjun tactfully lets go of your hair and escapes from the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. you sit in silence.

"you know, this is a really bad time," he begins awkwardly, "but i want to remind you that the seal stuff doesn't matter to me. i know it matters to you right now, and that's okay, but it doesn't have to be that way forever." it takes you a minute to really process what he's saying and understand the implication behind his words. once you finally do, you're shocked to say the very least.

"do you still like me when i'm like this?" you say, mouth agape, tongue still heavy from the vomit.

"i do," he replies simply.

"really?"

"really, really."

beomgyu knew you felt his pain as soon as you said it, but he didn't know to what extent until he hears you sobbing in the bathroom. the walls are paper thin and you're not exactly quiet, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't straining his ears to ensure he's catching every word. and catch every word he does — even the ones you exchange with soobin — the ones that pierce his heart, and yours, apparently, because you wail when you feel it.

being with soobin is simultaneously the hardest and the easiest thing you've ever done. he starts off slowly, as if he's afraid to break you even more than you're already broken. he's patient with you even when you're sad about a certain somebody, and never makes you feel guilty for it.

when you're bawling your eyes out one night and cancel your plans with him, you're surprised to hear a knock on your apartment door, anyway. you look through the peephole and see a familiar figure with a smile on his face. you hurriedly wipe the mascara from under your eyes and pull your hood up to cover your fucked up hair.

"what are you doing here?" you ask once you open the door.

"i was just in the neighborhood and thought you might want some ice cream," he says simply.

you snort. the "neighborhood" in question is a good 20 minutes from his apartment, but you don't ask any questions for fear that he might actually leave.

and so you sit on the living room floor with a movie playing in the background as white noise. you forgo the formalities and both of you are digging into a, frankly, alarmingly large tub of ice cream with nothing but two spoons. he pokes your reddened nose when you eventually start to drift off into space and remember your soulmate doesn't want you. he doesn't ask any questions, either. just boops your nose and you're back to reality and giggling at his childishness.

being with soobin is so easy, so comforting, that when he eventually asks you to be his girlfriend, you say yes.

on graduation day, beomgyu feels an excitement he sincerely did not anticipate. sure, he was happy to graduate, but he had no idea he'd be fucking elated. he has no clue why he's so ridiculously excited when he's honestly not even sure what he'll do after college, but when your name is called to collect your diploma and his heart is racing so fast he feels like it might explode, beomgyu comes to a damning realization: it's not his happiness he's feeling... it's yours.

the revelation is fully enforced when he sees you leaving the stage and hugging soobin. he feels your heart skipping a beat when he watches your fingers lacing with the other man's. he can't quite understand it, but the contentment you feel juxtaposes the sadness brewing inside of him. the sense that something is missing feels more palpable than ever. you walk off with soobin, swinging your interlocked hands while he gently brushes his thumb against your fingers. you don't look beomgyu's way even once, and his eyes start to burn when he realizes that image will forever be seared into his head. he has nobody to blame but himself.

beomgyu can feel your joy now and it makes him sick. he feels the butterflies in your stomach as you slow dance with soobin. feels your first kiss and the thrums of electricity permeating from your lips to your toes. he even feels your excitement before soobin makes love to you for the first time and the pure bliss that comes after. he feels it all and it's enough to make his stomach churn. he wonders if you can still feel his pain, and on some level, he hopes you do. maybe he's selfish, but it would serve as another reminder that he's bound to you and you to him. it doesn't feel like you can, though. how could you be so happy if you felt even a fraction of the weight on his chest? he's drowning every day and you're out playing first comes love then comes marriage with soobin. he's currently looking at your instagram from a burner account (you blocked him on his main) and he's trying to keep his pain tucked carefully behind his ribs, where his heart is, but it's constantly threatening to overcome him. you look different — not bad — just different. you're glowing now, it seems, and your hair is always down. he has a guess as to why that might be, and it pains him to think about it. this must be the yearning everyone, including you, had felt. he supposes he should be happy that you're happy, but he's never claimed to be a good person, and the sight of a picture of you planting a kiss on soobin's cheek is enough to twist the knife in his chest.

notes pt. 2: hi :,) i hope you all liked this one. if not, i'm sorry :,) my pacing is sooo bad but i'm working on it i swear ( ཀ͝ ∧ ཀ͝ ) feedback is always appreciated!! and yes, there will be a part 2.

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circyexistforcontent · 2 years

Note

Head canons of sibling scara trying to spend him every waking moment with reader???? 🤷

SAGAU: SIBLING SCARAMOUCHE WANTS ATTENTION

❀ synopsis: being a god is hard, and being the sibling of a puppet who wants to become a god is even harder.

❀ notes: sibling Scaramouche is a new trend in this blog. if you want more content about sibling Scaramouche (or just want to request something sagau/genshin related) send an ask please my inbox is so empty-

Scaramouche is the clingy sibling and you can't change my mind. He used to stick by your side before, but now having other people around you 24/7 makes his protective radar go haywire. The guards of your mansion are terrified to face him again after their first encounter with the purple-haired puppet, demanding and threatening them to let him in to see you. You would have to explain to some of the guards to not attack him since some were dead set on not letting go past the gates.

While you're in your office managing the paperwork of whatever nation you were in Scaramouche would just waltz right in, ready to annoy you to spend time with him. Any acolyte that was with you in the office can go suck his dick since he isn't planning on leaving anytime soon. He would just be there sitting beside you with a smug look on his face while you tell the acolyte that he's allowed to be in the office.

If he was still in the Fatui he would be more annoyed that you don't visit him as often anymore since now you are both busy people. If he is wanderer he is basically jobless, meaning he can dedicate all of his time to you. Most of your acolytes are annoyed by this and would tell you to go tame your sibling, Scaramouche would retaliate by showing his middle finger at them while you're not looking (some of your acolytes have definitely tried to kill him)

I say this a lot but you two definitely travel together, Scaramouche likes to go somewhere that none of your acolytes can follow the both of you. It's just you and him enjoying the outdoors and finding common chests together, it makes him lower his guard knowing that no one is there to interrupt you two. After you two travel together and you have to return to the office you would realize a bundle of flowers was left in your inventory, which you don't remember collecting.

When you leave for another nation you are REQUIRED to send letters thrice a week. If you are missing at least one letter a week he can and will travel to the nation you are in by (threatening) asking your followers where you are. The moment he walks in on your office at the current mansion you're residing in you will think you somehow betrayed him with the look he is giving you. But then you would just give Scaramouche a deadpan stare when he tells you that you didn't send him a letter.

Your acolytes are appalled that you are so calm with Scaramouche's behavior, your years of experience with the brat has definitely made you nonchalant about his weird habits and behavior. Xiao will definitely ask why you are so lenient with him and you would just say "Oh, we're siblings." He is taken aback by the discovery and the next day would be more respectful to Scaramouche (He will most likely take advantage of this and would call his name for the simplest of chores)

He still sleeps beside you, but unlike before when he was still Kabukimono he can handle sleeping alone. When others are present he would save himself from embarrassment and sleep in a separate room. But when it's just the two of you he would cuddle beside you and slumber peacefully. Tell him a story about your old world and he would be blissful, it may seem like he's not invested but he's listening to every word you said. He mostly sleeps mid-way through your story, but that's because he likes to listen to your voice.

#🍒sagau #sagau x reader #sagau brainrot #sagau cult au #sagau scaramouche #sagau genshin #genshin cult au #self aware genshin impact #self aware genshin #genshin self aware #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #kabukimono x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin scaramouche

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theealluringstoryteller · 6 months

Text

Agaisnt The World Around Us

Chapter 5: The wedding

Clara snuggled her son relishing in the warmth his body gave as she read the words off the pages of the book she found in their small library in the village. Despite him being 13 she appreciated him still wanting to read to him and cuddle him when he wanted to spend time with her or in need of comfort. Castin silently followed along with his eyes, one almost swollen shut due to the fight he got into with boys much older than him. Clara hated how her sweet boy was treated among people in their village and she tried her best to make up for it by doing everything she could at home. “And then ‘swoosh’ Perseus swooped down on his flying horse towards Andromeda determined to save the chained princess from the sea monster ‘Cetus’ ”

She continued on with the story warmly smiling as Castin cuddled a bit more closer to her, drowned in the story escaping the day that he had.

“After the mighty Demi God slayed the horrid beast he took Princess Andromeda back to her father King Cepheus and asked for her hand in marriage-" “Ughhh!” Castin groaned loudly turning his head up the shift in the story. “Awe come on Cassie! All heroes deserve love-” “But he’s in his prime! He’s gonna throw it all away for some…chick!” Castin huffs crossing his arms over his chest suddenly uninterested in the tale. The young Castin grumbled to himself about how weak Perseus was. “What man would rather settle down instead of living a life full of honor!” Frowning Clara closed the book unhappy with her son’s thought process. “Who said it wasn’t honorable to be in love?” She questioned wanting to get down to the source of his disdain! “Only girls fall in love! It’s stupid and silly!” Castin went on. “It’s not manly at all!”

Appalled Clara scoffed “who told you all of this…horse shit?” She demanded snatching his chin and turning his face towards her. His eyes now softening he shrugs his shoulders feeling bad about getting his mother upset. “They say so! It’s not the Intacian way!”

Clara sighed mentally cursing those who put such an idea into her son’s head. “Cassie,honey, don’t believe to their bullshit! They are nothing but a bunch of miserable pathetic old men who are unhappy with their lives because they couldn’t manage to get a woman even of low standards to fall in love with their miserable asses!” Clara begins motioning Castin into her arms. Scooting back into his mother’s embrace Castin remained silent knowing that now it wasn’t the best time to cut in with his warped opinions. “Let me tell you my little love, you’re going to find a woman when you grow into a man and you’re gonna be so in love with her and her you because you deserve that! You’re by far better than those low life roaches who told you that it wasn’t manly to be in love-your father loved me very much!” She tells him hugging him closely. “And this woman you’re gonna find-she’s gonna be everything you’ve ever dreamed of-”

“Maaa! I don’t dream of girls!” Castin whined at the thought. “Oh please don’t lie to your mother! I wash your clothes!”

“Ma!” Castin groaned again, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“Oh hush!” Clara chuckled softly pinching Castin’s side.

“My boy! You’re home!” Clara cheered rushing up to her son who now towered over her. A bright smile on his face he embraced her closing his eyes in relief now that he’s home and away from the camp that had too many funky bodies and none of his mother’s delicious cooking.

“I missed ya too, ma!”

“You better! The amount of time I stay up thinking and worrying about you!” She exclaimed letting go so she could do a look over of her son.

She tsked at his lanky figure “Are they not feeding you? What you have to be an official soldier to get a decent meal plan?!” Clara continued to fuss causing Castin to smile and laugh to himself at his mother’s behavior.

“Gisela! Isn’t that the boy you’re brother-”

“Shush!”

Castin developing keen ear picked up not to far from his home. His eyes catching sight of two girls around his age walking by huddled together as they peered over at him while whispering horribly.

“He’s cute! Maybe you should ask him out?”

“What?! What if he says no?”

Smirking Castin lifted a hand “Sup Ladies!” He greeted jerking his chin up in a nod. The two girls gasped then awkwardly laughed stopping their stroll now that there was an air of opportunity.

Frowning Clara glanced between the girls and her son. She studied the two before her eyes went from slits to calm within seconds.

“I’m sorry girls but my son here desperately needs a bath! Camp has lice!” Clara huffs looking at Castin’s hair full of disgust. “Yeah! Unfortunately that’s what happens with some soldiers in training!” She tells them shrugging her shoulders, ignoring the look her son was shooting her way. The woman shooed away the girls who held a displeased look on their faces.

“Maaa!” Castin cried dramatically raising his arms asking ‘why?’

“Trust me Cassie I’ve seen those girls buzzing like a hover fly in other warriors in training faces and I’ll be damned if you came home with something far worse than lice.”

Ushering her son into their house Clara began what Castin would refer to as rambling “I did you a favor! You need a girl who doesn’t get so excited over male attention! Someone who shares something you also love-like reading! Oh and she has to be sweet! You need a nice girl! To keep that heart of yours safe and full of love.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah Ma!” Castin rolls his eyes happy to be home. “I’ll be sure to marry her when I find her”

Castin stood tall at the alter his Commander suit felt like bricks anchoring him in place as his eyes were glued to the approaching figure in all white. He couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked making her way towards him, towards their future together, a one sided love. Ethereal is what came to mind as he saved this memory in his mind. Many years ago his mother told him and now it’s happening! He was in love! Goddess how he loved her. It plagued him! Turned every other woman into faceless humanoid creatures who could no longer sway him with their attention and empty affection.

His eyes only saw her, he only wanted her. Somehow she casted a spell and poof! He was her’s and she had no clue. That was the bittersweet part of this wedding. He was marrying the woman he loved while she was marrying the man she loathed.

Omorose barely spared him a glance as she stood emotionless at the alter beside him. Rhett shook his head throwing Castin a short look of disappointment at failing to win over the Baroness, before be started the ceremony.

“Today is one that will be marked in our new found history. Where two enemy nations set their hatred, division and differences aside to unite and become stronger together as one through the union of Intacian warrior commander Castin Hammer and Imperial Baroness of the coastal Empire Omorose Fentress. Bear witness as they commit themselves to each other and as their commitment serves as a bond between the Coastal empire and Intacia!”

A mixture of low groans and whispers creeped up once King Rhett finished the opening speech of the wedding ceremony.

In the coastal empire Weddings were a show. The richer you were, the higher or title the more elaborate your wedding is expected to be. Ballads were song, Dances were performed and the tales of both families histories were told high lighting where the union was a grand one. It was quite the cultura shock when Rhett went straight into asking

“Baroness, before the Goddess and everyone here do you take Castin to be your husband? Do you accept him as your partner and your equal for the rest of your life?”

“I do.” Her voice voided and empty as she sealed her fate, intertwining her life seconds before he did the same.

“And Castin, before the goddess and everyone here do you take the Baroness to be your wife? Do you accept her as your partner and your equal for the rest of your life?”

“Yeah…I do.” He said softly stealing a glance at her from the corner of his eyes. The empty look in her pretty honey eyes pained him to see. A consequence for him being a total ass.

“Then I king Rhett of Intacia and of the Coastal Empire bind you two together forever. Castin you may kiss your wife.” Rhett announced motioning him to step forward.

“Gladly!” Castin smirked.

Omorose mentally frowned as she was pulled into the kiss. She didn’t bother putting much effort into its Castin lead it.

While it brought Castin butterflies it brought Omorose nothing but disgust especially when he moaned into the kiss. And the sound of cheering and clapping only made her sour more.

Pushing him away she noticed the look of disappointment on her now Husband’s face.

“Hey you know you didn’t have to push me away like that towards the end.”

“You were getting carried away for something that doesn’t mean anything on a personal level.” She snipped maneuvering her dress around prepared to get far away from him as possible.

“Yeah you’re right…my bad. Kinda got carried away there.” Castin admits hoping she would be a little more kinder to him like she was with her close friends and Nina.

Rolling her eyes Omorose searched through the crowd for a familiar face she could socialize with instead of the husband she wanted to avoid.

Moving closer he asked “Look…could we at least dance?”

Throwing him a look Omorose scoffed her heeled feet carrying her and her long gown away as a frustrated Castin followed.

“Hey! Come on…look you’ve been doing this for months. I am your husband! Okay? You just can’t keep avoiding me.” He pleads wishing to reason with her.

Not bothering to entertain the thought Omorose kept walking.

Castin signed in frustration watching her go “Are you serious?!”

With her head held high Omorose was completely unaware of the power she held over Castin who suddenly felt like the rejected boy of his village once again. The feeling causing him to crave alcohol to wash away the ill feeling.

He might as well make the most of his wedding night! Nothing else was going to come if it but partying and drinking himself stupid.

As a heavy weight he took the nearest bottle offered to him and chugged as much as possible desperate for rejected feeling to disappear. Perhaps if he got drunk enough one of the Bar maids would start mirroring Omorose’s looks and his feelings for her even if he no longer thirsted for meaningless conquests.

At the kings table Omorose listened to Rhett go on about giving the scoundrel friend of his another chance. She didn’t see how it would matter now that she tied herself to the hound.

“Dun da da dun da da!” A drunk voice sung loudly as a guitar’s strings were abusely played.

“Of course.” She hissed seeing Castin standing on a

Table top dancing with one of the barmaids that were on the clock. He looked absolutely stupid in her eyes. An embarrassment.

Rhett cursed excusing himself to retrieve his friend before he made a bigger fool of himself.

“No!” Omorose told herself standing from her seat and swiftly leaving the party to her room. She couldn’t allow herself to stay and be humiliated by a man who seemed to lack any control or self respect.

Once in her room she kicked off her heels and made her way to her vanity. Staring at her reflection ‘Stupid! Stupid! stupid girl with a sympathizing heart for her country’s enemy! Look where that weak caring heart got you. Pathetic!’ She thought.

‘Married to a man who is known to fuck anything as long as it has a warm hole! A damn dog! Now you have to lay it a flea covered bed because you want to fix your family’s mistakes like the fool they tried beating out of you!’ Her mind continued to berate her. Her nails sunk into the flesh of her palms as she willed the horrid thoughts away. Tears gathering in her eyes as negative feels swept over her.

“You always knew you were damned to a loveless Marriage don’t act surprised now. It was practically a birthright. But you’re not going to allow that or him to define the woman you are. You’re stronger than that!” She tells herself sinking her nails further into her palms to stop herself from shedding a tear.

A shaky breath forced its way passed her lips as the feeling finally left her. Forcefully she smiled at herself in the mirror before pulling out her journal and pen.

Passing the time writing in it waiting for the party to end up staying dress in case Aurelia or Nina came looking for her.

Nina sighed from afar watching the whole interaction go down. In the pit of her stomach she felt a sense of regret for not pushing hard enough to get Omorose not to go through with the marriage. To her it was clear it was going to end in shambles quickly.

“Let me go see about that child of mine.” She says to a random intacian man that brought her over a drink.

“Yeah! Tell her I said ‘good luck’ cause it is needed.” He laughed taking the cup she handed back

She couldn’t get through the threshold of the banquet hall before she was stopped by the King.

“Nina wait! Let Castin go to her! He needs to.”

“You don’t think he burned that bridge and pissed on its ashes enough!” She questioned raising a brow.

Defeated Rhett knew she was right and couldn’t argue. Bowing his head tiredly he said “Let him try one more time. Maybe now that she’s his wife he would finally pull his head out of his ass.”

“Goddess willing…”

To entranced in her thoughts the sound of her bedroom door opening without her permission startled her. Within seconds her dagger she stashed on the underside of her vanity was in her hands ready for use.

Castin looked at the weapon then at her scoffing a little amused.

“Come on babe really a knife? If you were going to kill me you should’ve done it before our wedding! It’s a little too late now.”

Sneering at the man Omorose sat the weapon on the vanity and picked up her pen.

“Stop with that.”

“What? You’re my wife I can’t call you sweetheart?” He asked. His buzzed mind enjoying the attention.

“It was arranged! It’s nothing on a personal level so there’s no need for pet names.” She spat pressing her pen harder into the paper.

“Who care if it was arranged? You and I walked down the aisle that makes you my…” he trailed seeing her get upset. “Come on say it with me now” he laughs hoping to get more of a reaction out of her.

“We are one flesh serving one Queen sweetheart, get use to it.”

Closing her eyes Omorose lifted her fingers to her temples and proceeded to give herself a message.

“So are you planning on coming back down? I mean come on leaving your own wedding reception kinda early is tacky don’t you think?”

“Tacky?!” She couldn’t help but scoffed. “Yet you were embarrassing me!”

Taken back Castin screwed up his face “what?! How was I embarrassing you?”

“You’re excessive drinking.”

“Ugh it’s a wedding babygirl. People drink. It’s not that weird.”

“Encouraging drunk people to drink!”

“Ok sure people got a little drunk but once again it’s a wedding. When else,”

“And you’re rhythmless ‘dancing’ with the rhythmless Barmaids?”

“Hmm? What about the barmaids?” He asked not sure if he heard her right. She turned giving him the ‘you heard me’ look.

“Uh come on? No! No! You know that’s not what that was.”

“A tasteless rhythmless eyesore everyone was forced to watch! Not even a single drop in that bottle could spare you a half an ounce of grace for such a badly preformed sensual dance.” Omorose went on grimacing at the thought. “Or for the poor girl who tried so hard to catch the beat but couldn’t! Disgraceful!”

‘If you’re going to disrespect me and this marriage so soon you could’ve at least looked decent while doing so.’ She thought.

“Okay! So I’m social! Not everyone is as introverted as you.”

“So go be social!” She waved towards the door.

“Nah I’m staying here with you.”

“Besides the Queen bounced after you left and that was the only thing keeping the party going soo… I think we’re done.” He says loosening his collar.

“The Queen asked about you. Ya know.” He went on helping himself to a bottle of wine gifted to her by an imperial nobleman wishing her luck and voicing his disdain for not being the Groom.

“She did?” Omorose inquired curious as to why.

“Of course! You’re the Bride and you just dipped out of nowhere.”

“So did you tell her why I left?”

“Well I told her you and I decided to call it a night early because you were so eager to have your husband on your wedding night.”

The color in Omorose’s face drained at his words and audacity. Picking up her cup of old wine she chucked it at him with so much hate behind it.

“How dare you!” She hissed.

“Oh I’m sorry? Was that not what you wanted me to tell her?” He asked raving in her anger. It was the first time she spent more than a second on him he was lapping it up.

“Oh dag my bad. I mean if you would’ve just stayed you could’ve told her yourself.”

“Asshole.” Omorose grumbled her eyes like daggers as she glared his way.

She returned to her journal her handwriting turning sloppy as she jotted down what was needed to be recorded in it.

The squeaks of the facet and water running nearly made her blood boil.

“What are you doing?” She demanded not in the mood to continue with his fuckery.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m drawing a bath.” Castin stated obviously now growing tired of his wife’s attitude.

“Why?” She bluntly pressed him.

“Because I’m covered in sweat and wine and general party juices.”

“Not here.” She states wanting him out of her space

“Uh what makes you think I can’t?”

“Because I said so.”

“So you have a messed up attitude…that means I can’t be clean.”

“I don’t give a damn what you do as long as it’s not in my room?” Omorose replied

“Correction this is our room.” He corrected picking up a bottle of Omorose’s expensive oil infused bubble bath “and if I want to take a bath in our room I can do that.”

“Our room?” She asked in disgust. The night just kept getting worse.

“I mean you’re welcome to watch.” He smirks.

“I’d rather choke on the food I didn’t get to eat tonight.”

Annoyed at the whole ordeal Omorose thought of a way to piss him off like he pissed her off even if it was childish.

Shifting her dressed she sat herself more comfortably in her vanity chair picking up the book she was reading the night prior subconsciously scheming.

‘The window’ her subconscious pointed out. Curious if it would work she looked over to not only see through window but Castin.

Despite her feelings towards him she can admit that he was physically flawless when it came to his built and the scars marking up his body only added to his appeal.

Castin felt a boost of confidence seeing her look this way. He teased earning an eye roll. Turning back into her book Omorose pushed down the slightly embarrassment that crept over her.

Relaxed in the water Castin informed his wife of the Queen wanting them to ‘promenade through the garden’ so people could see them in the next upcoming weeks. Boldly he tried to suggest spending time outside of that request but was shot down with a dry “No”

“It doesn’t matter what you were going to say. The answer would’ve still been, no.”

Curious and a little bitter Castin grilled her on why.

“I have far better plans with far better company, that won’t cause me an exhausting headache.”

“Okaaay. The personal attack was kind of unnecessary. Who do you have plans with?”

“Lord Reyes.”

“Lord Reyes? Really? The dude from the Library?” Castin huffs remembering walking in on the two smiling and giggling to each other closely over something he couldn’t understand.

In sudden jealously Castin demanded “W-what do you have to do with him?”

Tiredly Omorose mouth turned smart “And you need to know because?”

“Seriously?” He gave her a pointed look. Shaking his head at her answer he decided to ask another question “oh so what is this Lord Reyes like?”

“What do you mean?” She countered dumbly.

“‘ What do you mean’ what do I mean? What do you think of him? Do you think he’s handsome?”

“As a matter of fact I do! Not that it matters since this is a fake marriage!”

Pissed off by her last sentence Castin corrects her in a low tone “This is not a fake marriage. It’s an arranged marriage.”

Seeing the displeased look and hearing him let out a breath, Omorose believed that their conversation session for the night ended.

Standing she looked over at him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“What?” He asked dejectedly.

“Can you hurry up.” She demands wanting to wash this lack luster day off.

“Relax there’s plenty of hot water. I’ll be out soon. You’ll get your turn.”

“Well make it real soon.”

“How about this the more you tell me to hurry up the longer I stay in here.”

Not happy with that she looked back at the window and made her way over to it. “What are you doing?”

Unlatching the widow she slid it open inviting the cold night air to creep in like fog.

“Are you serious?!” He raised his voice not believing she could be so childish.

“It’s freezing! Can you close that please?”

“No I’m getting a sudden flash of heat! Must be the dress…”

“So petty.” He grumbles “Fine!” Castin stood up from the water without warning.

With a cringe Omorose adverted her eyes hearing the water splash and puddle on the floor.

Sensing she still wasn’t happy Castin once again asked “what? You got what you wanted. I’m out! It’s all yours.” He motioned to the tub.

“Good now leave!”

“No I’m not leaving.” He retorts drying himself off

“You didn’t leave me I got in!” He pointed out.

“It’s different!”

“How’s it different?”

Rolling her eyes annoyed at that fact she couldn’t think of a solid answer.

“Go ahead do your thing.”

“Not around you!”

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I’m going to bed I’m not looking at you.”

Omorose stayed glued to her spot watching as he got into her bed much to her disliking. His face turned away from her and stayed that way. Taking in a gulp of air she unzipped the seamless zipper and allowed her gown to pool around her revealing the white lacey thong she wore underneath.

Worried he would turn to sneak a peak she quickly got in the tub thankful that it was a heated and filtrated model but the cold air still bit at her. Splashing at the water she wordlessly got Castin’s attention who was tired of her and her shit.

“What! What do you want now? What do you want me to bring you?”

Pointing over to her vanity Castin glanced over to see her book lying opened on the page she left off.

“Your book? Naw you shouldn’t have left it there.”

“Why not?” She pouted sinking into the water.

“Because I’m already comfortable. Besides! Didn’t you say you didn’t want me to see you?”

Grimacing at him quoting her she lets out an irritated groan.

“Just bring me the book please?”

Puffing out air Castin got up from bed “Fine. If you say so.” He shrugs crossing the room to get to her vanity. He picks up the book telling himself to not be disrespectful enough to sneak a peak.

“Can you close the window?” She requested since he was up now.

Agreeing since he too was cold Castin made the extra journey to close the window before he noticed that the fire was low in the fireplace.

“Hey that fire is getting kinda low don’t you think?” He pondered out loud. “Where do you keep the wood?”

Raising her arm she pointed towards the corner closest to the fireplace her eyes not leaving her book once it was handed to her.

Castin hurriedly tended to the fire wanting to get back to bed since his alcoholic buzz left his system completely now. He turns but the way that the moon light casted itself over his wife caught his attention and he couldn’t but to see her in all of her glory.

“My Goddess…” he gawked his mind already capturing and saving the image to his memory like a camera. “Now that’s a view worth getting outta bed for.”

Out of anger and loss of dignity Omorose kicked her leg up at a certain angle getting water all over Castin landing her into a predicament that from sour to sweet.

For the past few months, she's been working so hard to keep the wall she built up between her and Castin.

A wall she knowingly built brick by brick after each distasteful encounter she had with the army commander to protect her, her feelings, and her time. A wall that was crumbling slightly as she watched him, her newly married husband, and his hard exterior fall in front of her as he asked her

"Please just tell me why do you hate me?"

Her heart softened just a bit at his cracked exterior but she hid it behind her voice as she spoke "So the embarrassing me with the lingerie gift you gave me the time you ever met me slips your mind-"

Castin opened his mouth to speak but the fierce glare made the words he wanted to say faltered into sounds "I- sorry no! Go on." He apologized

"I've tried to get to know you Castin but each attempt showed me what type of man you are. A dipso, egotistical rake who hangs around degenerates who think and acts the same way! The way you automatically viewed me as an object you could have the pleasure of fucking! Why wouldn't I hate you?" Omorose wailed tearing her watery eyes away from Castin's crestfallen face.

The young wife hid her face back in her book shakily admitting

"Too many people-Men and women view me the same way...it's degrading to know that instead of acknowledging everything I've done, all that I have accomplished they-" Omorose bit her lip, pushing back the sob that almost slipped.

"I'm very well aware of the fact that people want me in their beds. It's hard not to notice Castin! I promised myself at the age of 15 that I would wait and fall in love with someone who wanted me entirely and not just for my body but I failed! I failed myself when I agreed to marry you for the sake of the new kingdom. And now I'm stuck being the trophy wife to a man that saw me as a glorified sex doll the first time he ever saw me! That's why I hate you."

Her words and the sound of her voice cracking broke Castin's heart. The last thing he wanted was to hurt the woman he was in love with and moving forward he would be damned if he knowingly did so.

Castin took a deep breath. Every word his wife whimpered out processing in his mind. "I-I'm really sorry." He apologized the words he wanted to say, the things he wanted to confessed jumbled in him.

"Can I just um... can I ju-just think for a second? Thanks." He asked catching a glimpse of Omorose's pretty honey-colored eyes gloss over with vulnerable tears that gathered at her water line.

He finally got his answer and it left him speechless, seeing her push back her tears over it left him aching.

He was among a group of people that Omorose loathed but had to silently deal with instead of the people she felt at peace with and that tore him apart inside.

"Look. That's not me! Okay. Ev-everything you said…that isn't me." He started

Omorose scoffed pulling her knees closer to her chest "That is not you? The man you've been since I met you isn't you?!" She rolled her eyes causing a single stream to fall down her face.

"No, no I-I know I-I know I have a reputation! Okay?

Th-th-the brawling, the drinking, and just…generally being a rake but, that's not me! Okay?" He stressed hoping she was listening to him and was actually taking his honest confession to heart. "That's not the man I want to be" he paused searching for a reaction but received none. "Look I-I know I may not be explaining this well but," Castin's trailed off staring at the book cover held in Omorose's delicate hands. The ring on her finger shone under the dimmed light, the same one he placed there only a few hours ago catching his eye.

'Rhett is right.seems like he's always right. Castin thought, thinking back to the advice Rhett gave him before ordering him up to his new room in the palace.

"Drop the manly Intacian act. Be yourself Castin!

That is exactly what won me the Queen's heart, and it can be the same for you."

Taking another deep breath Castin prepared to drop the one thing he felt protected behind, the wall that shielded him these past years, all in hopes that Omorose his wife saw him in a different light.

"You know I really did read that book. When I was a kid...I wasn't just-trying to have something to say…okay? I-I really like that stuff." He awkwardly stated.

Omorose peaked over her book after listening to Castin struggle with his words and it made his heart skip a beat.

"Look I don't know how to explain it alright. I just feel like there's me everyone else sees and then there's the me that's really.me and the me that everyone else sees I hate it okay? I'm not that guy!" He admits feeling a wave of mixed emotions wash over him.

"Then why do you act like that? Why pretend to be someone you hate?" Omorose questions putting the book down entirely. Wanting to understand why someone would torture themselves like that.

"Because I-... I-I don't know. I was different when I was I-I was like you and then being a warrior in Intacia i-it's it's just different. You have to be strong and respected. You have to fit in." He explained feeling slightly smaller under her stare.

"Look! It's all really confusing to me... but every time I look at you it's clear. The man that I want to be is the exact type of man you would fall in love with. You remind me of everything I really care about of-of who I was back then- n-no no of the man I know I still am.

I-I just need your help."

Omorose felt her eyes soften at the stuttered admission, the honesty in his voice and the look in his eyes shined a new light over him. She cast her gaze to the ceiling contemplating whether she could forgive him and let go of her grudge she had against or not.

"I-Look, I know I screwed up. I'm used to charming people to get my way and I tried to do it with you with all the gestures and all the flirting and I'm sorry.

That's not who I want to be anymore." Castin said following her gaze

"Hey look at me. I want to change." He says looking into her eyes once she looked back at him.

"For you. I just need you to show me how. Just please give me a chance." Castin begged, moving closer to Omorose who's heart speed up as her husband leaned in to kiss her.

The Baroness has never been in such an intimate moment before, she guarded herself well before getting married and now without any experience or idea of what to do in that moment besides kissing him, she felt even more vulnerable. And when he whispered that he wanted more against her plump lips she felt a flutter in her tummy. A mixture of excitement and anxiety as her smothered voice asked "sex" between kisses.

"No! No! I don't mean like that. I mean-" he broke into a light-felt chuckle " No I do want you like that. I really do but, I-I don't just want to you physically okay? I-I love you an-and before we do anything I need to know that you're really into trying to make Because if you're not and this is just some heat of the moment thing for you then I-I can't cause it's not just that for me and I don't think it ever will be... so please don't go through with this and then hurt my feelings later."

Omorose could feel it in her heart that she forgave him right then and there in his vulnerable state, asking her not to hurt his feelings and string him along. Something she would ask something she would say.

"Are you for real about this? Am I your husband or just some warrior the Queen forced you to marry-"

Omorose stepped out of her character, reaching up to grab Castin's face to kiss him. It surprised him for a second, feeling her soft lips on his. Though a bold action he could still tell that it was a shy gesture.

"You and me," Castin said pulling away and placing a kiss on Omorose's forehead. "Let's just start over?"

He smiled softly going in for a kiss

"Okay." Omorose softly agreed.

#desmond asmr #castinxbaroness #asmr boyfriend #black!reader #against the world around us #asmr roleplay #black oc #fanfic #desmond asmr castin #baroness desmond asmr #castin hammer #CastinxOmorose #Omorose Fentress

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meiliarotten · 1 year

Text

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Two: Electric Boogaloo

Day 15: Hot Water (Shower Sex)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Spy x Fem!Reader

Summary: The result of a promise I made to someone to write Spy shower sex

Tags: Shower sex, dirty talk, praise

Word Count: 2.3k

The Masterlist

You turned the metal handle, gasping at the sudden spray of frigid cold you received before the water finally started to warm up. With a few further temperature adjustments you were able to let the heat relax your muscles, still tense from a long day of work. You always felt better after a nice hot shower though, no matter how difficult your day was.

When you had first joined up with the team you were initially appalled at the idea of communal showers, in particular, the idea of sharing said showers with nine men. However, you got used to it far sooner than you expected. Staying up a bit later kept you from encountering any awkward situations with the others. Plus, it allowed for secret rendezvous with one mercenary in particular, one who you didn’t mind sharing a shower with, among other things. Speak of the devil…

You jumped when you felt arms wrapping around you from behind, the sensation of skin on skin flush against your back. The sound of Spy decloaking alerted you to his presence, putting you at ease. You had been expecting him tonight, of course. Even so, the feeling of an invisible force touching you was universally startling, and something you were sure you would never get used to.

“I wish you would remember to decloak before approaching me from behind,” you said, glancing back to look at your partner. He was already undressed, his suit jacket and mask most likely sitting neatly folded on the locker room bench just outside the showers. Spy’s eyes were closed as he let the water cascade over him, relishing the heat just as you were earlier. The softened expression on his face was one you rarely saw outside of these little trysts. It made you feel special to see him so relaxed, almost vulnerable.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day, chérie.” He whispered, voice low and seductive. His hands slid smoothly over your wet skin, warming you up even more. You let him descend over your waist, down to your hips and thighs, and then back up again. It was as if he was trying to memorize every edge and curve on your body through touch alone.

You squeezed your thighs together, embarrassed at how easily he was able to arouse you. He took his time, lingering on every erogenous zone he knew of on the human body, and then paying special attention to those that he knew were specific to you. He had spent plenty of time mapping out the places that made you feel good, where a simple, gentle touch could have you squirming with need.

With a shaky breath, you turned to face him, pulling him down into a kiss, the two of you quickly becoming entwined with each other. Spy quickly took the lead, making the first move to deepen the kiss as he slid his tongue over your lips, a silent request for entrance which you eagerly obliged, opening your mouth with a soft gasp. Kissing Spy was never a simple dalliance of lips and tongue. No, he always kissed as if he was savoring you, treating you delicately, like a fine wine. Appraising, cherishing, and taking pleasure in every little taste, slow and discerning with his movements. His hands would continue to roam your body, trying to make you moan into his mouth. It made you never want to pull away, but of course, you had to eventually. You parted with a gasp, taking in fresh air.

“God, I need you,” you said, reaching towards the shower faucet handle. “Just let me get dried off real quick. We can go back to your room-”

Spy stopped you, cutting your words off with another kiss. He took your hand gently, moving it away from the handle and pulling you towards him. “Non, I don’t think I can wait until we get back to my room, ma chérie.” He sounded so eager, so full of desire for you. You wanted to hear him say more, just so that you could listen to that lustful voice for longer. His hand drifted between your legs and you shuddered when you felt his fingers running over your slit. “I can take you right here.”

Somehow, a touch of reality managed to reach you through your arousal. “We could be caught,” you warned. These were communal showers, after all.

“Darling, I am quite adept at making my way around unseen. Do you really think I would allow someone to catch us?” Spy was known to value privacy. It made sense that he wouldn’t take such a risk unless he was sure he could avoid any unwanted guests. That alone was reassuring enough to ease your concerns. “Now, let me take care of you.”

His hands dropped to your hips, massaging them with a firm grip. You gave into temptation with another heated kiss, and you could feel him smirking against your lips just before you parted. You backed away for a moment, turning around to lean against the tiled wall and presenting yourself with a smirk and a glance backwards. “Is this alright? I feel better having something solid to brace myself against,” you said, nodding towards the wall. It would make things much easier, especially given how slick the wet floors could be.

“Whatever you wish, darling,” Spy said. You smiled, turning your gaze forward. A shudder ran through your body when you felt him press two fingers into you, thrusting gently, working you up until you were wet enough to take his cock. You couldn’t stifle the small gasps and moans you made as he fingered you, curling his digits just enough to tease your sweet spot. When you began to rock back against his fingers he withdrew, and you whined, only to quickly fall silent when you felt his cock pressing against you. Still, he teased you, rubbing the length of himself over your entrance and chuckling at the way you quivered.

“Spy, please,” you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper, almost drowned out by the sound of the still running water hitting the tile floor.

“Easy now, mon ange,” Spy said, shushing you. “I’m just making sure you’re thoroughly prepared.” With that bit of emphasis, he entered you, hilting in one quick thrust. You yelped in surprise, not expecting him to start so quickly, although his pace did slow the moment he began moving. Those steady, measured thrusts still managed to hit hard in all the right spots, making you whine and moan for more.

Your hand found its way between your legs, rubbing gentle circles around your clit. With a soft gasp, your eyes rolled back and you started to rub faster. The pleasure coupled with Spy’s cock being buried deep within you was dizzying. You couldn’t get enough.

“Darling, let me see your hands,” Spy said. He had stopped moving, much to your dismay. Any attempt to thrust back against him were met with further withdrawal. “I don’t want you to finish so soon. Won’t you be good for me and do as I say?”

Reluctantly, you placed both your hands on the tile in front of you. The low whine you made when you lost that sweet stimulation did not go unnoticed, but Spy didn’t let it dissuade him. He wasted no time pinning your hands to the tile on either side of your head, gripping your wrists tightly.

“I want all of your pleasure to come from me,” he whispered, his voice low and commanding in your ear. “Understand, ma chérie?”

“Spy,” you murmured, his name being all you were able to muster up the ability to say. Perhaps it was an acknowledgement of his words, or perhaps it was a plea. Whatever it was, it was enough to make Spy’s expression soften. His grip on your wrists loosened ever so slightly.

“I promised I would take care of you, and you trust me to keep my word, don’t you?” he asked, pressing his body flush against yours, letting you be comforted by the sensation of skin on skin, so warm and wet.

“Of course I do,” you sighed, leaning heavily against the shower wall.

Spy pressed gentle kisses to the back of your neck, trailing up to your cheek as he whispered in your ear. “I’ll let you come, in due time. Just relax and let me do all the work for now, my love.”

You found it rather difficult to relax when Spy let go of your wrists and reached around to feel up your body, making his way slowly up to your chest. You gasped when he caressed the soft flesh roughly and nearly squealed when he rolled a nipple between his fingers. Spy seemed to enjoy the way you were squirming against him, letting out soft moans as he played with those sensitive areas.

“You’re always so responsive,” he mused. “I wonder what other delightful little noises you have in store for me.”

His hands began to trail lower once again, and you shuddered as he ran his palms down your abdomen, soon passing over your hips. He rubbed slow circles over them before reaching tantalizingly close to your clit, his fingers mere inches away, only to come back up and squeeze your breasts roughly, earning a high pitched gasp from you.

“Watch your volume, ma chérie. As nice as it is to hear you scream, these showers aren’t exactly soundproof”

“I thought you were ‘adept at being unseen,’” you retorted, doing a poor mimicry of Spy’s accent as you repeated his own words back at him. The laughter you got in response only served to frustrate you more.

“Unseen, but not always unheard,” he said before delivering an especially hard thrust, making you inhale sharply. “In fact, I believe I am quite the master at drawing desperate sounds from you.” You felt him run his palms down your back. He admired the way the water cascaded over your curves and the way your body glistened beneath his hands. “Truth be told, while I loathe to imagine anyone stumbling upon your naked form as I make love to you, the idea of the others overhearing your moans, screaming my name, letting them know that you belong to me, is quite tantalizing. So on second thought, make as much noise as you want.”

Instead you immediately tried to quiet yourself, perhaps in an act of petty defiance, but it was no use. Spy seemed to locate all your most sensitive areas with ease, pinching, caressing, and thrusting harder into you, pressing you against the tile of the shower with your hands still planted firmly next to your head. The convergence of so many pleasurable sensations had your head spinning. It wasn’t long before you felt the pleasure start to build.

You clenched around Spy involuntarily as you felt your orgasm fast approaching, listening to the way he moaned at the tightening of your body. “Mon Dieu, you feel so good,” he groaned. You began to buck back to meet his thrusts, nearly slipping at one point, only being saved by Spy wrapping an arm around you to keep you steady. “You’re close, aren’t you? Merde, I am too. Go on, touch yourself, ma chérie. I want you to come for me.”

Spy sounded almost desperate, as if he was begging. It took you a moment to even process what he said, but the moment you did your hand was between your legs, fingers rubbing frantic circles over your clit as he thrust against your sweet spot over and over, determined to bring you to orgasm before he reached his own. Your moans peaked in volume and your body trembled around him as the pleasure finally overwhelmed you. Spy held you firmly by the waist as you rode out the end, keeping you from slipping while in the throes of ecstasy. The last thing either of you wanted was to explain to Medic how you had injured yourself after being ravished in the communal showers.

Spy reached his own climax soon after you, leaning against you so that his lips were right beside your ear. He tried to be more reserved, but you could hear every soft groan he made as he came, his body trembling against yours. You leaned heavily on the wall in front of you, legs shaky and threatening to buckle beneath you at any moment. Having sex while standing turned out to be far more of a workout than you anticipated, especially once the adrenaline began to fade.

Luckily, Spy, being ever vigilant, noticed your waning strength once the aftershocks began to reach their end. He quickly withdrew, reaching forward to shut the water off. You let yourself slump against the wall, not even noticing that Spy had left until he returned just moments later with a towel to wrap around your shaking body, taking you up in his arms just as your legs were about to give out.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered as he cradled you in his arms, “Ma belle chérie.”

He set you down on the locker room bench, letting you get your bearings before beginning to dry yourself off. Your whole body was flushed, either from exertion or from the heat and steam of the shower. You were breathless. Spy was in a similar state, although he was regaining his composure far quicker. Even so, anyone who walked in now would probably be able to deduce what had just occurred. But you found that you didn’t care anymore. Let them know. Let them know that you belonged to Spy.

“You’re so red, darling.” His hand cupped your cheek, feeling the heat radiating off of your skin as you leaned into his palm. “And I believe there may be some bruises on your hips here.” He motioned to where he had latched onto you, either to keep you from falling or to simply exercise his control. “When you’re dried off I’ll take you back to my room, make sure you’re comfortable, and we can spend the night together. Would you like that?”

“I would like that very much,” you sighed, eyes already drifting shut as you let Spy take over the duty of toweling you off before carrying you back to his quarters.

#tf2 x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #merc x reader #minors dni #smut #tf2 smut #team fortress 2 #cross posted on ao3 #tf2 #tf2 fanfiction #spy x reader #spy tf2 #spy team fortress 2 #spy team fortress #kinktober #team fortress spy #tf2 spy

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murfpersonalblog · 5 months

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IWTV S2 - Pix11 clip makes me so sad for Claudia

As a New Yorker, I caught second-hand embarrassment watching the latest clip promoting Game of Thrones Ann [sic] Rice's Interview with a [sic] Vampire. 😭 But Jacob did his thing, as usual! 👏

Anyways, the clip itself was VERY interesting, from what I could tell with the audio + accents + French + lack of subtitles.

Sweet precious baby Louis, always the optimist in denial that things were getting better, not progressively worse. Louis of all people should know a thing or two about scar-tissue: some wounds only heal on the surface, but the trauma & PTSD can last forever.

I love how while Louis' waxing poetic about them "healing," Claudia's counting change (a la Bricktop 2.0--Louis "letting a woman count his money"); visibly holding back her frustration with their reality.

They had to pickpocket!? 😨 Louis! Don't stash Lestat's useless arse in a dump before making sure the alimony & child support checks get cleared! Like, I can understand them losing all their NOLA luggage while running from bombs & revenants in WWII Europe, but what happened to all Les' Parisian bank accounts!? You know how LOADED that guy is?! Louis, you really let your man take care of all the finances like that!? 💀

Jfc, Lou, The First Wives Club ain't teach you NOTHIN. 😒

Lemme calm down.

Now here's where the clip lost me; I couldn't understand a word he was saying in French--same, Claudia. 😅

But this bit right here really gets to the heart of the matter: "Truth and reconciliation;" them looking for the truth about vampiric origins & history (and the truth about Lestat's past).

Then we get this remark from Claudia:

I couldn't tell if this meant that A) Claudia was correcting Louis' French (Truth versus Trust, and her going "What?" cuz he got the translation wrong); or if B) Louis was correcting hers (her going "What?" cuz she still doesn't know any French). And if so, that got me wondering--Claudia lived with Loustat for 20+ years--how could she NOT know any French by then? 🤨

Like, I don't mean just through casual exposure/immersion; I mean cuz we learn in TVL that vampires are (preter)natural mimics. Lestat never learned how to play violin or even how to read or speak English. He picked it all up passively with the Dark Gift; a vampire who (barely) passed as human by mimicking them.

Which makes me NERVOUS for Claudia, if her powers are so dang low that she doesn't speak French by now. 😰

As for Louis, I had to laugh here; him calling French the "mother-tongue." Like, book!Louis was the same way about going to Paris--he wasn't born in America; he was a settler/colonist from France who got rich off of his Louisiana purchases in slave labor & plantations. Going to Paris really was going back to the motherland for him, and Louis was APPALLED when the Theatre mocked him for his French having an accent.

But French is clearly not AMC!Louis' native language (the DPDLs spoke English at home, NOT French--not even when Monsieur Bouillabaisse de Lioncourt came to dinner). And we also know from the OG pilot script that Louis knew (at least some) Haitian Creole, too, when he'd chat with Oncle Vervain Mayfair (GOD I wish they'd kept all that in!). French is more what bougie Creoles would speak to be cultured & educated & show off; not to converse with regularly.

If anything, French is more Louis & Claudia's father-tongue; from Lou's French White great-great grandfather; to the MIA Papa DPDL we never see; to Claudia's biological father "whose daddy gave her away to a mean old auntie" (and who left her for dead to die of PLAGUE in the books); to Absentee Father/Maker of the Year Lestat himself. What's more, French is the language of ANGER, VIOLENCE & verbal ABUSE in the de Lioncourt household/family/coven--Loustat only ever spoke it when arguing around/about Claudia.

So to have Louis talking in French to Claudia about mother-tongues is just hysterical, like boyyyyy if you don't stop--get Lestat's thumb out of your mouth for ONCE. 🤣

#interview with the vampire #iwtv tvc metas #justice for claudia #louis de pointe du lac #louis de pointe du black #language

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lya-dustin · 2 years

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The Philosopher

Aemond x fem!Braavosi!reader

(The idea of universities existing in asoiaf is my idea, universities and colleges have existed since the 12th century at the least. Braavos is based on Florence and i ran with the idea of it being Early-Renaissance Italy)

This was also the one-shot i built through polls with fem!reader and the prompt:‘I have fallen for you so … I’m fucked.’

Thanks for playing, enjoy the fic

Gif by @bichachonacho

Despite the neglect from both his parents ---one too ill to care and the other too busy--- Aemond had everything he wanted and the best of it.

So, when he asked, no, demanded the most famous master of philosophy in the world, he had not expected you.

He had heard of Braavos admitting women into their prestigious university, but surely, they would not be so foolish as to send a woman to teach him?

For fuck’s sake, less than half the noblewoman were literate in Westeros!

Grandsire would be appalled, mother insulted and Aegon will likely be feigning an interest in philosophy just to harass the poor girl.

“I was told Master Bergamo would be teaching me.” Aemond said hoping he had been right.

“Oh, he is, he is rather unwell from his travels unfortunately, so until he is better I will be teaching you, your highness.” You said as you continued setting up the sitting room to your liking. “Will that be a problem?”

“No.” the prince lied.

“Usually my lectures have me behind a curtain to avoid distractions, would it be too much of an inconvenience for you if I were to be behind a curtain?” you asked and Aemond wonders if he answered far too quickly.

He was not like other men, for fuck’s sake. He could handle being taught by a beautiful woman.

“Suit yourself, your highness, but I do warn you. Men who refuse the curtain often end up falling in love with me.” You say in jest, he hopes it is merely a jest.

“Perhaps, I will be the exception.” He finds himself saying and falling into an unusually easy banter with you.

As time passes, Aemond realized you had been serious.

There was something in the way you spoke, how you taught and worst of all, how your eyes lit up as you passionately debated with him.

Even when your father taught him, you were there assisting him, and despite your Braavosi accent and your skepticism in the Faith of the Andals, he found himself falling for you.

Every lady his mother offered him all paled to you.

No gold, no lands, no alliances were enough to get you out of his head.

None could argue about philosophy and ethics and whether gods are real like you did. No one was as well read and interesting as you, fuck, some of them were not allowed to read because their fathers and septas were afraid of them becoming too smart for their husbands.

Father seemed to hint about it when he spoke to him until he got tired of Aemond’s indecisiveness and outright gave his blessings to wed you.

Cole had then told his mother, and mother had used her influence to end Aemond’s lessons and send you and your father back to Braavos.

You had been crying, Aemond had heard about the awful things his mother’s ladies and his own fucking mother had said about you to hasten your departure. “Have you come to say goodbye, my prince?”

“No.” because he does not plan on letting you leave, not that it was clear by his words or façade. “When we first met you so said you taught from behind a curtain because men fell in love with you.”

“And you said you would be the exception.” You smile at the memory of it, and he gains confidence to voice this secret only you seem oblivious to.

“I lied. I have fallen for you…so I’m fucked.” He admits and wishes for the ground to swallow him.

Gods, this was fucking embarrassing.

“As crudely as you put it, we are both fucked.” The word sounds rather adorable when you say it. “I am afraid I have fallen for you too, my prince.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x braavosi!fem!reader

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fieldofdaisiies · 10 months

Text

gwyn x balthazar | 2,9k words | warnings: none | masterlist

"They weren't too happy, but they also did not seem too appalled." Balthazar leans his head against the stone fence encircling the roof top training pitch.

"Which is good," Gwyn answers, her hand in his.

Gods, has she anticipated this moment for so long. The High Lord and Cassian wouldn't shut up and kept Balthazar downstairs for what felt like ages. But finally their meeting had come to an end, and he walked up to the rooftop to meet her. They chose to meet here because leaving the House of Wind is still difficult for Gwyn. Going up to the rooftop and sitting in the warm sunlight seemed like a great idea. And it truly is. Everything feels perfect in this moment.

"I only hope they'll follow my orders and do as told, and not act up the first day they have to do chores." He turns his head, looking at Gwyn who has her face turned skywards, her eyes closed. The sun's strays fall upon her face, making her skin glow.

"I'll come and punch them all if they cause you trouble." Her lips form a delicate grin and for a second her mouth is everything Balthazar can think about. He chuckles lowly, but his attention is elsewhere, not on what Gwyn said.

Gods, what would he give to kiss her right then and there. But they do this at her pace, and her pace only. And sitting here, holding hands with her is also close to absolute perfection.

The young Illyrian keeps his eyes on her, watching her, how the sun makes her skin sparkle. How adorable and delicate the dusting of freckles all over her face looks.

His eyes brush her lips again, and nervousness bubbles up inside of him. He has never kissed a female — what if he will do anything wrong? He technically does not know how kissing works.

What does he have to do? What will his hands do? What will his lips do? When will he breathe? What if he makes a fool out of himself?

"How…how was your evening with your friends?" Balthazar asks, his voice a little shaky. He remembers that before he left on Sunday, they had arranged this sleepover, so why not ask about it, right?

"It was lovely!" Gwyn lowers her head and turns to look at Balthazar who is already looking at her. "We had so much fun and talked about anything and everything." Including you, Gwyn thinks but leaves out that detail. "Do you also have sleepovers with your friends?"

Balthazar chuckles a little, then laughs louder, and shakes his head. "I technically only have one friend, but we've never done a sleepover. Maybe I should suggest it to him."

"You should!" Gwyn grins, her eyes sparkling like the sea when the sun's strays touch it. For a second, Balthazar forgets how to breathe, every rational thought leaving his brain, his mind going blank. He swallows thickly, and brings the hand that is not holding Gwyn's up so he can brush his hair back.

Gwyn's eyes follow the movement.

Then he looses a long breath. "You have been so honest with me the other day, I also want to tell you more about myself."

Balthazar looks at Gwyn, relishing in seeing her so at ease, so comfortable, so happy and excited for what he has to say. Her hair is down, her teal eyes aglow – she is stunning and Balthazar has to swallow around the lump in his throat before he can continue.

“Anything special you want to know?” Balthazar asks, smiling cheekily.

“Well, what is your greatest secret, Lord Balthazar.” A teasing glint appears in the priestess’ teal eyes when she poses her question.

“My greatest secret, Lady Gwyneth?”

Rosy splotches appear on her cheeks and she gives her head a tiny nod. Balthazar pretends to ponder, but he actually knows what his greatest secret is. Something that suddenly seems so embarrassing, yet has not bothered him that much in the past years. Now it does, because what will this secret make him look like?

Will she believe him to be a loser? A late bloomer?

No, Gwyn is different, she would not judge him.

His eyes downcast and fiddling with his fingernails, colour blooms high on Balthazar’s cheeks.

"I have not,” —momentarily Balthazar’s eyes move to Gwyn before he looks past her— "yet been intimate with a female. Nor even kissed anyone yet.”

Gwyn’s eyes widen at his statement, more about his honesty. But then also in utter surprise. This is male, this glorious, charming, stunning and polite male has not been kissed yet?

Gwyn is more than flabbergasted, lips parting a little.

“You are allowed to laugh, Gwyneth,” Balthazar says, smiling and staring at the priestess’ speechless expression.

“Who would not want to kiss you?!” The words leave her mouth before she can comprehend what she has just said. Her already big eyes going even wider, Gwyn shakes her head, and blushes bright red from her cleavage up to the top of her head.

“I did not mean it like that. I meant who would want to kiss you? Right?” And then…Gwyn’s mouth has once again been faster than her brain.

Balthazar roars a laugh, throwing his head back. “Thank you, Gwyneth.” “That was not what I meant,” Gwyn stutters, a grimace grazing her beautiful face. She furrows her brows when a kernel of shame blooms in her chest. “I meant…I don’t understand how you haven’t been kissed yet. You are so kind. And charming, and sweet. And good-looking.” "Gwyn…" Balthazar says, but she stops him.

"Is there a reason for it?" Gwyn's brows furrow.

Balthazar wants to shake his head but stops himself. "I don't know." His is calm after that and Gwyn's knows there is more to it than he shares.

"You don't have to tell me." He knows this. And smiles at her, nothing but understanding and sympathy in her eyes.

"I guess," he starts and swallows. "I guess, I was always afraid I will become like my father, and I never wanted any female to endure this. I've never had real crushes, maybe I found someone attractive, but…" He draws in a deep breath.

"I always kept the thought about how my father was in the foreground of my mind. I've never allowed myself to imagine myself in a relationship, because whenever I did, I only saw my father and how he treated my mother. There has never been a female I felt it was worthy for to face those fears." He wipes his hand over his nose. "But, then you stepped foot into my life, and suddenly I saw a future where I would not become like my father, suddenly I felt hope for myself somehow. Suddenly, there was someone for whom I would face those fears. And…I don't know how to say it."

"You don't have to say more." Gwyn changes her position, now kneeling next to him, both hands holding his. "But I do. I did not know your father, but I know what you told me about him and I know that you are nothing like him. And you will never be like him."

"Gwyn—" "No!" she loudly argues. "You will not be like him. Someone with such a kind and big heart will not become cruel and bad. You won't be like him."

"And you know this?" Balthazar raises his brow.

"I know this." Determination is etched upon her features, and so is affection. "And I also know that this is right."

He gets no chance to ask about what is right. Gwyn leans in, and before he knows what is about to happen her lips brush his. It is just a small peck, short and barely there, but it leaves him speechless.

When Gwyn leans back, lips tingling, her heart racing but he does nothing. He only stares at her. And that for a long moment. It almost looks like every flicker of life has whooshed out of his body, leaving him fully breath- and speechless.

But then his hands capture her face, and he brings her in for another kiss. His palms are slightly clammy, his stomach a ball of nervous flutters. His touch is gentle, reverent, as his thumb strokes over her cheek.

The world around them seems to hold its breath, time slowing, as everything fades into insignificance. Their eyes close as their lips touch, uncertain at first. Curiosity guides them, their lips meeting a little clumsily at first, noses pressing against the other's cheek, but soon they fall into a steady rhythm.

Gwyn's hands slide up Balthazar's chest, resting on his hard pecs. He lets his own hand slide into her hair, threading his fingers into her silken strands. A low groan sounds from a deep part of Balthazar's throat when Gwyn softly bites down on his lower lip. The noise makes something low part in her abdomen come alive. So overwhelmed by all the emotions and the sudden bliss, a giggle bubbles from Gwyn. They break apart, foreheads still touching.

"This was—" "Absolutely fucking perfect." A fully delighted and contented smile graces Balthazar's lips, pupils dilated as his eyes track Gwyn's face. She grins at him, heart fluttering, her hands still on his pectorals. She feels his heart beating vividly, his skin radiating warmth. His solid muscles ripple beneath her palms when he straightens up.

"More?" she beams.

"More," he breathlessly whispers, leaning in already. "But only if that's what you want."

Gwyn nods, capturing his lips without a moment of hesitation. The pull towards him, how he tastes and feels, is just too good to stay away from him for much longer.

Balthazar brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering on the side of her head for a moment when their lips start moving in sync. Gwyn delicately traces her tongue over his lower lip, asking him for allowance to sweep her tongue into his mouth. He opens for her, letting her tongue slide in, brushing against his gums and then meeting his with each stroke.

The kiss deepens, a new found hunger suddenly erupting inside both of them.

Gwyn's gasp is drowned out by Balthazar's groan, his chest rumbling, his wings flexing behind his back. It is almost like they want to spread, and he needs to keep them tucked in — not wanting to look like a youngling, with wiggle wings behind his back that he can't control.

Balthazar's hand slides to her neck, bringing her closer. Their kiss deepens. One of Gwyn's hand lowers, now braced on his thigh. Every touch sends electricity through them, setting their glowing souls ablaze. The bond comes more and more alive between them, the golden ribbon stretching out, trying to find its counterpart. Breathlessly, they part, faces mere inches from each other. Balthazar sweeps his thumb over her lower lip and then he lets his hand fall.

"Gwyneth," Balthazar rasps. He closes his eyes, grins and then brings his hand up to brush back his hair. "What was that?"

"A kiss?" she chuckles, taking his hand into hers so she can lift it up to her mouth and kiss his knuckles. "Your first kiss."

"This was close to divinity." When he opens his eyes, he looks at her with nothing but admiration and affection. "Your kisses…I don't know."

"Speechless?" Gwyn grins mischievously, her heart beating so fast at his obvious astonishment. She has never seen him like this, but Cauldron it's adorable!

He can't answer. Balthazar is truly speechless. So his arms fly out, embracing Gwyn, fast, and he brings her to his chest, cuddling her tightly. Gwyn, half-sitting on one of his strong thighs, allows herself to relax against him, finding solace in the hard press of his broad chest. Cauldron, this male, and his body.

Balthazar kisses the top of her head and hums. His arms stay wrapped around Gwyn, even though the bright sun is shining down on them, hot and strong. But he couldn't care less in this moment. If they get to feel a little hot and toasty and start sweating…he doesn't care. Right now, there is only one thing on his mind. Right in this moment, with Gwyn in his arms, there is no doubt that she is the female who he wants to spend his whole life with.

Gwyn turns in his hold, so she can glimpse up at him. And when he looks at her, gazes into her teal eyes, he sees his future. He sees the female he will love until the end of his immortal life.

"You are so beautiful," Gwyn whispers, and wiggles one arm free so she can trace her index finger over his jaw. She shifts again, so she can sit down better on his thigh. Balthazar loosens his hold a little, his hand now resting on the small of her back, his other hand clasping hers, the one that is not brushing his face. There are rose splotches on her in freckles-covered face, which makes her look so very adorable.

"What?" he whispers, his brows tipping up the slightest bit.

Gwyn tilts her head to the side, eyes meeting his. "You are so beautiful," she says again, this time with a little more determination in her voice. "Your eyes, your smile, your wings…everything. You."

No one has ever called him beautiful, and he finds it a little hard to accept. But he leans into her touch, revelling in the feel of her fingers on his face, her soft touch and the way she looks at him.

"Gwyn," he says, but the priestess shakes her head.

"Juts let me compliment you," she hums. "And accept the compliment." Her grin is radiant, her eyes aglow. Balthazar once again finds himself captured by her.

"Then you have to accept that you are the most beautiful female I have ever seen."

He shifts on his thigh. Gwyn tilts her head to the side, and watches him through narrowed eyes.

"I mean it. I have never seen beauty like yours before."

Her blush intensifies even more with the way he looks at her. Balthazar leans in a little, his lips brushing hers, but he does not kiss her. "It's 34 freckles. I knew it!"

Gwyn bursts into laughter, her head tipping back. Another reminder of her sheer beauty.

The young Illyrian joins in to her laughter, his heart full of love. "When will we—" "I made something—"

Their gazes meet, lock, and soft giggles leave them.

"You first," Gwyn says.

But Balthazar shakes his head. "No, you first. Always you first."

Her cheeks once again turn a little more rosy — somehow he always causes this reaction in her.

"I made something for you. You gifted me the fish, I also wanted to gift you something." Gwyn lowers her gaze a little, with a sheepish smile on her lips. She looks at her robes where she pulls out…something.

Balthazar shakes his head. "You didn't have to make me anything. The fish was a thank you for saving my life and—Is this a bracelet?"

"Is it silly? I doubt you will even wear a bracelet. I mean you are a camp lord, a strong and powerful Illyrian, and—" "Put it on. I want to wear it!" Balthazar grins from on ear to the other and lifts his arm.

Gwyn flashes him a look asking if he is really sure, and he nods. He uses his second hand to roll back the sleeves of his white linen shirt, and Gwyn can practically feel how her mouth dries out.

The muscles in his forearm are well-defined, with prominent veins coursing beneath the surface, and it is the first time that Gwyn really registers that his tattoos also adorn his lower arms. Maybe in the past she had been too occupied with staring at his chest…

"On here," Balthazar hums and wiggles his hand.

He is oblivious to her staring, only focused on the fact that she is gifting him a bracelet. It is a small testament that the two of them belong together and he will wear this bracelet with nothing but pride.

Gwyn's fingers tremble a little when she fastens the bracelet around his wrist — it sits perfectly, and perfectly fits with his half-gloves and then siphons on the back of his hands. She made the bracelet in the same colour, green but with a touch of turquoise and white.

"It is for luck and protection up in Windhaven…and basically everywhere."

"I love it. Thank you for making this for me." The young Illyrian kisses her cheek. She is so happy that he likes it. Gwyn grins, then leans in for a short kiss. Then the kiss turns into a not so short kiss. But soon their foreheads rest against each other, their eyes closed, breaths mingling in front of their faces.

"What did you want to say," Gwyn asks after a moment of silence.

Balthazar has to think, not remembering immediately. He inhales a deep breath.

"I was…I think I was going to ask when I will see you again. L—Cassian earlier mentioned he will come up to Windhaven again. I was wondering if you are joining then as well." "Next week, yes!" Gwyn smiles. "Yes, we are joining him then."

He kisses her again.

~~~~~~~

tag list: @a-frog-with-a-laptop @brekkershadowsinger @moonlightazriel @callmeblaire @headcanonheadcase @waternymphia @autumndreaming7 @devilsfoodcake22 @readercacau @sv0430 @bubybubsters @cyntia-ktn

#gwyn berdara #gwyneth berdara #gwyn x balthazar #balthazar #balthazar acotar #acotar #acosf #acofah #acourtoffateandhealing

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hebewebe · 1 year

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In The Eyes Of God {Y.Okkotsu/Reader}

Okkotsu has never been religious by any means and he’s always planned to stick down that path, after all, religion never mixes in well with his line of work.

Okkotsu has never been religious by any means until he sees you, serving Nanami his usual order in a cafe across the street, you’re pretty, really pretty is one of the first thoughts that come to his mind when he lays eyes on you.

Maybe he’ll visit you on another day.

Okkotsu is not a religious man by any means but for some odd reason the sight of you doesn’t leave his mind, instead, it plagues him like how angels plague dreams to whisper hints about the future in a person's dreams.

The next time he spots you is when he’s walking around with Maki, Megumi, and Toge, you’re outside watering the plants that decorate the outside of the cafe.

“That’s the girl?” Maki glances over at Yuuta who is already staring your way, feeling the gaze of numerous people you turn and face the group of teenagers, and you wave.

“She, she waved at me?” Yuuta looks appalled when you wave and smile only to turn around and continue watering the flora.

“No shit sherlock, go say hey don’t be weird.” Maki gives him a playful shove while he looks over at Toge for help, “Salmon Roe,” Toge mutters through his mask and Megumi nods in agreement.

“Just go over there and say hi,” Megumi encourages, Yuuta ponders for a bit, “Fine, Maki can you at least come with me? I don’t want it to be awkward,” Maki gives an audibly annoyed sigh, “Oh my god, you’re actually pathetic, let’s go.” Maki waits for the cars to stop zooming through the street before walking the road with Yuuta behind her.

“Remember; don’t make an ass out of yourself.” she reminds Yuuta once more before taking the final steps onto the other sidewalk.

Busying yourself with wiping the windows clean and making sure the outside was aesthetically pleasing to your boss’s liking you were unaware of the couple approaching behind you.

“Uh, um, hi! I mean hello,” turning your attention away from the window and instead, to where the sound was coming from you met with a strangely cute couple, both had raven hair except the boy seemed terrifyingly timid whereas the girl has unwavering confidence.

“Hi, hello, how can I help you both?” you smile at the couple before stuffing the washcloth halfway into your apron pocket, “Um, well, I uh.” Yuuta stammers over his words and Maki merely glances at his embarrassment before doing him an unasked but much-needed favor.

“Hey uh,” she glances at your name tag that's attached to the light brown button-up you wear as a uniform shirt, “Hey listen l/n, this guy Okkotsu over here thinks your cool and wants to know if you wanna hang out sometime?” she shoves her hands in her jacket pockets.

“Uh well I don’t really know either of you and I’m working right now so maybe another time?” you tried letting the couple off easily, “T-that’s fine, that's great! Maybe another time though?” he was somehow glad you declined his offer, he was nowhere mentally prepared to hang out with you.

“Alright, see you guys later, maybe” you turned around to continue with your work.

“So, how’d it go?” Megumi was the first to ask, “Lame, she couldn’t even stand his lameness, told him maybe next time.” she snickered while Yuuta stared at the floor hoping it would swallow him whole.

“Mustard leaf?” Inumaki chimed in, “Yeah, I’m good Toge thanks,” Yuuta smiled.

Okkotsu isn’t a religious man nor is he a creep but ever since that day he finds himself more and more in search of you, at first it was minor things like how whenever he was on the street where you worked he would look for you, and it worked, he wasn’t obsessed with you but he was just curious , yeah that was all.

Curious is what he told himself when he searched the deep depths of every social media platform in search of you.

He believes that he’s only curious when he accidentally scrolls too far down your Instagram and finds your beach pictures, the pictures of you in skimpy bathing suits.

He doesn’t dare follow any of your accounts though, not when you hardly know him at least.

“Stop being a loser and ask her to hang out,” Maki sighs, “A-alright, I’ll do that!” Yuuta exclaims with nervousness.

The next time he sees you he relates you to a deity of some kind, the sun is setting and golden hues fade over the city, you're wiping down tables inside the shop and you look peaceful , he’s not sure what possessed him but he finds himself crossing the street and walking through the glass doors.

The jingles of bells take you out of your trance and you take out your airpods, quickly placing them in their case.

“Hello, how can I help you?” you ask while finishing up your cleaning, “Um, hey, it’s me Okkotsu, from a few weeks ago, you might not remember me but um,” he begins to fidget with the edge of his shirt.

“Oh, your that guy who came here with your girlfriend right? Asked me to hang out or something like that?” you recall while walking behind the counter, “G-girlfriend?! N-no, no you got it all wrong! She’s just a friend that’s all there is to it, I swear!” he stutters over his words and his face flushes a bright strawberry red.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to accuse it's just when you both approached me you guys looked like a couple.”

“No it's fine, you don’t need to apologize.”

You hum in acknowledgment, “So why’d you come right when we’re closing up?”

“Why’d I come?” he ponders that thought for a minute and really can’t come up with a good enough answer that won't scream creepy or stalker, “Um well, I came here because I wanted to try out your pastries, I didn’t know you guys would be closing,” pleasebelievethislieifyoudon’tiseriouslymightdie , he prays.

Wait a minute, Okkotsu Yuuta an agnostic atheist, for the first time in years, prayed?..

“Well, you might wanna hurry up and order something then,” you hummed from behind the counter.

“Um I’ll have the uh the strawberry crepes?” he stammered over his words, “Sure if you’ll just give me a minute…. That’ll be $10.75” you spoke from behind the cash register, he quickly fumbled to get his wallet out and handed you $12. “Um keep the change,” he muttered meekly, “Uh okay.”

He sits down at a table you haven’t cleaned yet and waits for his order, “So, what are you doing all the way out here?”

“What?”, “You know what I mean, Gojo told me, Jujutsu Tech is pretty far out from here but yet I see you almost every week, how come?”

fuckfuckfukfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckI’mscrewed !

He begins to mentally curse himself for his stupidity, “How’d you know about jujutsu tech? And how do you know Gojo?” he’s desperately trying to change the conversation.

“He’s my uncle???” visible confusion washes over the both of you, “He’s your uncle?” he asks like you didn’t just say that.

“That’s what I just said, yes,” you repeat while finishing the topping for the crepe.

“That’s cool?” fuck what do I say to that? And my hands are getting sweaty too damn it!

“Here’s your order, Okkotsu.” you place the plate down in front of him along with a fork and wait for him to take a bite.

“Do you like it?” you hum while propping your elbow on the table and leaning your head on your hand, “Yeah, it’s good” he muffles through a mouth full of sweetness.

He finishes his plate and decides that he’ll just wait for you to finish closing up shop outside.

“Done?” he turns his head towards you while simultaneously shoving his hand in his pocket.

“Mhm, all finished.” He takes a look at you and he thinks this is the first time he’s seen you without your work clothes on, he wonders what’d you look like with no clothes on.

“Uh, um, are you ready to go?” you hum, “mhm let’s go.”

While he was eating the two of you had a pleasant conversation about almost anything, it varied from favorite foods to top ten movies, favorite colors, and which artist you liked best.

“Here I am,” you both stopped in front of the apartment complex, “Alright, um goodnight l/n!” you're already walking up the stairs at this point but you don’t forget to turn around and wave.

Yuuta Okkotsu isn’t religious by any means but he’s positive when he met you he also met a goddess.

#okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk #yuuta fluff #fluff #yuuta is very silly and i love him #yuuta smut #jjk yuuta #yuuta <3 #yuuta x reader #yuuta #jjk headcanons #jjk imagines #jjk smut

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what-if-queen-camilla · 1 year

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Chapter 18

18th January 1993

It couldn’t be true. It had to be a nightmare. The worst nightmare she had ever had. Surely somebody would wake her up soon, assuring her that everything was alright and nothing bad had happened, that Charles and her most intimate bedtime phone talk had not really been exposed to the whole world, that her children, parents and neighbours, all of their friends, her parent’s friends, her children’s friends, Andrew’s colleagues, Charles’ family, her children’s teachers, her own teachers (those who were still alive) and literally everybody on this planet not only had read or heard about Charles and her affair but actually their whole, silly, private conversation which was now ridiculed and scrutinised everywhere. She could never leave the house again. She would die here, die of shame and guilt and embarrassment. What had she done to her family? How could they ever possibly forgive her? How could they ever even talk to her again, without always having these awful few words in mind which had become the number one subject of several cartoons and silly jokes on the radio and television within the wink of an eye? How could anyone ever possibly take her seriously again, without deliberately or not, thinking of that? She was going to be branded a whore forever. Her poor parents. They didn’t deserve this. Her mother was already suffering enough from that horrible disease that had carried off her grandmother so painfully just a few years ago and now she even had to deal with her daughter’s disgraceful scandal. To say, she'd be appalled would be a dramatic understatement, not to speak of her father who'd probably never be able to look into her eyes again. And how on earth was she supposed to explain all of this mess to her poor little innocent darling Theodora who was only just five and had no idea of the ways of the world yet, but who had started school only just a couple of months ago and was surely going to be confronted with the fact that her mother and Sir were more than just friends at some point, probably not very decently or age appropriate. Camilla just wanted to stay in bed forever and die. At least she had been able to reach Andrew in London and he had immediately gone and picked up Tom from Eton. Annabel was meanwhile looking after Laura, who's boarding school wasn't far from Stourpaine, and she just wanted her children to be safe and sound, away from the spotlight and the public eye. And, thank God, Thea had been home with her anyway, as it had been Sunday yesterday. She hadn't talked to her about it yet, she just didn't know how; and she was incredibly afraid and felt deeply ashamed. But surely her little sunshine would notice that something was wrong, rather sooner than later… She was so sensitive with these kinds of things. Camilla sighed and pressed her tear stained face into her pillow. What was the time? She hadn't slept a second yet but it had to be almost time to get up… soon it would be 24 hours since her whole world had been turned upside down so cruelly. The house of cards had collapsed. It was over, it had to be, Charles was going to leave her now, they'd surely force him to give up on her, and she'd never see him again. She felt another stitch in her heart and was overwhelmed by another wave of tears. She didn't even feel sorry for herself, she just felt so incredibly sorry for her family, her children, and of course, his children as well. The poor boys had already suffered enough due to that awful book that had been published last year and which had revealed way more of their mother's escapades than it was possibly good for anyone but now they had to deal with their father's infidelity as well, in all its shameful, little details.

A quiet knock on the door startled her. "Mummy?", her little angel's little voice asked carefully and hesitant, almost afraid. "Yes, darling, come in!", Camilla replied, desperately trying to sound happy and unbothered, greeting her daughter with a heartfelt smile, invitingly opening her arms for Thea to come and cuddle up to her, which the little girl only too happily did. Camilla hugged her tightly and tenderly stroked over her beautiful blonde hair. Being five-and-a-half years old now, more and more of her character traits came to light and for Camilla it was amazing to recognise both good and bad habits from actually all three of them, herself, Charles and Andrew in her every day. There definitely seemed to be some kind of a balance between genetics and environmental aspects which helped or influenced shaping a child's personality. Thank God, she didn't resemble Charles or any of the Windsors at all; she was the spitting image of her and a typical "Shand girl", like Annabel, her daughters and Laura were as well, she had the same smile and laugh, but when she was upset about something, her whole face would darken and sometimes Camilla had a hard time pulling herself together when this beautiful and adorable little girl turned into a pouting miniature version of Charles because it was too cute and funny, just as when she started to sound like Andrew when she played with or "educated" the dogs.

"Are you sad, Mummy?", Thea asked cautiously and cuddled up to her mother even closer. Though she really tried very hard, Camilla couldn't stop her tears from falling anymore and she knew that there was no point in lying to her any longer. They had probably lied way too often and now had to deal with the consequences. "Yes, darling. I am sad. But it has nothing to do with you, my little angel.", she assured her, forcing herself to smile and softly kissed her on the forehead. "You, sweetheart, are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you so much and I'm so proud of you. You are the light of my life and I thank the Lord every day that he's given you to me." Thea looked at her with wide eyes. "But then, why are you so sad, Mummy?"

No poll this time again but honestly... I was having a hard time writing this and right now I'm not sure if/what Camilla will tell Thea... :'( She's only five after all... What a heartbreakingly impossible situation :'(

#king charles #queen camilla #royal family #royal baby #fanfiction #fanfic

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niningtori · 6 months

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to know him is to love him, and i do | chapter four: the end

pairing(s): kang taehyun x you, choi beomgyu x you

summary: the end.

genre(s): angst, fluff (who else cheered?), romance, angst with a happy ending

word count: 3.3k

notes (please read): y'all... did you seriously think that i, nini niningtori, the pushoveriest of pushovers, was actually gonna leave either taehyun or beomgyu shippers in the dust? BE REALISTIC! yes, there will be a taehyun AND a beomgyu ending. sorry beomgyu truthers, but you'll have to read through the taehyun ending to get to the beomgyu ending. i will mark where taehyun's part ends, so if you wanna end up with him, you'll have to stop reading there. anyway, happy reading! see ending for more notes!

“tyuuunn,” you whine into your phone’s speaker. you can’t tell how it's been since your final conversation with beomgyu, but now you’re drunk and all you can think about is taehyun. about his kindness, how happy he makes you feel, and how much you want to give him all of that in return.

“what is it, honey?” he coos. even in your inebriated state, you can hear the smile in his voice and it makes you wanna smile, too.

“miss youuu,” you groan. he laughs at your childishness and you can feel just how much he’s doting on you. it’s a relatively new feeling, being cared for like this, but it’s one you welcome with fervor.

“let me pick you up from that stupid bar and you can stay the night. how’s that sound?”

“mmm, hurry up,” you pout, and he just laughs again. god, you’re gonna feel so embarrassed by your neediness come tomorrow morning and he can’t wait to tease you.

taehyun is so eager to see you, he almost gets pulled over twice while making his way to the bar. he just can’t wait to see how cute you’ll look in his arms, all whiny and grumpy and begging for affection. and he’ll baby you, like he always does, because you deserve it. when he had heard about your appalling history with beomgyu, he couldn’t believe how someone could treat a person as sweet as you so cruelly. truth be told, you do have a bit of a softer personality, but that only evoked the need to protect and cherish you in taehyun. he can’t fathom the idea that somebody would see someone so pure and decide to take advantage instead of nurturing that innocence. his friends keep saying he’s a sucker, and they’re probably right, but he’ll happily be one for you.

he’s lost in his thoughts when he pulls into the parking lot of the bar you’re in, but his dopey grin drops the second he sees your dreaded ex stumbling away from the building. his face is red and he’s feverishly wiping away tears and snot. taehyun is a smart man, so he can easily piece together what must have happened. the thought that you were still thinking of taehyun in this moment comforts him. you had run into your ex and instead of running back to him, you’re thinking of your new boyfriend. what a relief. taehyun has always known you were still a little broken up about your split with beomgyu. he came into this relationship fully knowing that, but he liked you so much, he really didn’t care. maybe it was rash of him, but he thought it was worth taking a chance. he thought you were worth taking a chance and, so far, he had been correct.

he parks and stays in his car. if he were a petty person, he might ignore beomgyu and just walk right by him with his arm wrapped around your waist. taehyun, however, is a good person. so good, in fact, he waits for beomgyu’s friend to pick him up before leaving his car to find you.

when he enters the bar, he scans the crowd before he finds you sitting with your friends. your phone is to your ear and it only takes a few seconds for his own to ring. he smiles when he sees your contact photo (the one you both took on a date to your favorite frozen yogurt shop) appear on his screen. he rejects the call and watches you pout before striding over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder. you turn around with a scowl, but your features immediately melt and you grace him with a toothy grin. you excitedly squeal and wrap your arms around him. he matches your enthusiasm as he peppers your face with kisses.

beomgyu, who has very unfortunately come back to get his phone, watches it all and it’s enough to make him nauseous. he’s in such a daze as he watches you two that he barely registers his own friend honking at him to hurry up. he sees the afterimage of you leaning into taehyun’s touch and accepts the fact that you’ve truly moved on and won’t be coming back. he replays the last conversation you had and he decides he’ll hold onto your words forever. they’re all he has left, after all.

you’re so used to taehyun’s apartment that even though you’re so drunk you’re seeing stars, you’re still able to navigate it with ease. taehyun sits you down on his couch and kneels while removing your shoes for you.

“so chivalrous,” you giggle.

“anything for my princess,” he replies cheekily with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

“why are you so nice?”

“because i like you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“i like you, too.” you whisper with a blush. your gaze becomes heated and he cups your cheeks while gently guiding your face towards his. his touch is soft, and his lips? even softer.

he doesn’t push for more. you’re drunk and vulnerable at the moment, so he graciously grabs some of his clothes for you to change into and waits for you to come to bed. when you do, you plop down and he pulls you into his arms. you smile at his earnestness. he locks his arms around you and, for the first time in your life, a man is making you feel so happy and secure you can’t help but melt into the feeling. you feel safe. you feel loved.

“i really like you, you know?” he whispers into your hair, and it’s all you can do to keep your heart inside of your chest.

“i know. i really like you, too.” and you do. things with taehyun are still new, but as his breathing slows, you realize this is how love should be, and you think you want to be with him for a long, long time.

beomgyu's ending

when you wake up, taehyun’s arms aren’t wrapped around your waist like they usually are. you assume he’s just gotten up to start breakfast, which is a new tradition you two have started. when one of you wakes up before the other, they tend to baby the hungover one, which is, honestly, usually you. taehyun never complains, though. you were surprised to find that it’s actually in his nature to nurture, even when he vehemently claims otherwise.

you walk out of his room, clad in his hoodie and sweatpants, half expecting to see him slaving away in front of the stove, but you’re unprepared to see him sitting listlessly on his couch. he doesn't even seem to notice you when you walk in. strange, you think.

“good morning, babe,” you greet with a serene smile. when he is broken from his reverie, he does not match your smile at all, though.

“good morning,” he says awkwardly, devoid of any of the affection you’re so used to seeing.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, genuinely confused. something must have happened. you wonder if something went wrong with the big project he’s been talking about for work. you hope that’s not it — he’s been far too stressed about it, so you would give anything for that not to be the case.

“i… i don’t think i want to talk about it,” he replies.

“are you sure? maybe it’d make you feel better,” you try to reassure. you’re pretty much convinced it is about work now.

“i don’t think it would, actually.”

“oh, baby, it’s gonna be alright. whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together, okay? i’ll help you with whatever i can.”

“i don’t think you can help me with this,” he laughs bitterly. this confuses you. why is he acting so weird? you’re trying to find the right words, but he beats you to the punch.

“we need to talk.”

“...about what?”

“about beomgyu. you said his name in your sleep,” he says flatly. your heart sinks. oh no.

“... what?” you ask, but you kind of already know.

“i said, you said beomgyu’s name in your sleep. you were crying, too, actually.” you’re silent at this. the tension is so palpable, you completely freeze.

“i… i’m so sorry,” you try. “i didn't mean —”

“i know you didn’t mean to. that's the problem. you never mean to, but i’m not concerned about your intentions,” he sighs. “i knew from the beginning that you missed him. i thought i was okay with it, too, but i know now that i’m not. and i can’t be.”

“what are you saying?” you ask, lips trembling and eyes watery.

“i’m saying that i don’t think you’re over him. i know you know that, but i don’t think you realize just how hung up on him you still are.” you’re speechless at this. “listen, i like you, i really do, but do you like me?”

“of course i do! i really, really like you!” you insist, tears brimming in your eyes. nobody could ever say you don’t like taehyun. it’d be impossible not to like him, actually. there’s so much to like about him, in fact, if someone asked you to name every good thing about him, you wouldn’t even know where to start.

“you might like me, but you love him. even when you’re with me, you can’t help but think about him, right? and if he were different, if he did everything i do for you, you'd take him back, right?” he looks a bit hopeful, but he already knows your answer. that’s enough to make your tears fall.

“but he didn’t treat me the way you treat me. he has never made me as safe as you make me feel,” you answer weakly.

“but he can,” he shoots back. “and i think you know that he would if you let him. even if he doesn't, you’ll always wonder what could’ve happened if you had just taken a chance, won’t you? and you can’t do that if you’re with me.” he’s right, and you know he’s right. so far, you’ve been trying to push thoughts of beomgyu out of your head, but his words have continued to haunt you. all the happiness taehyun has given you is incomparable to anything beomgyu ever has, so why do you miss him so much?

“do i just take him back then? after everything he’s done? that’s unfair to me.”

“and being in love with another man while you’re with me is unfair to me,” he explains patiently. you still at this. you've done to taehyun exactly what beomgyu had done to you. the worst part? you didn’t even realize it until now.

“i’m… i am so sorry. i didn’t mean to be unfair to you. i tried, i swear i did. and if you’ll let me, i’ll keep trying.”

“i don’t want you to keep trying. i want someone to love me the way you love beomgyu. i want to be with someone who loves me without ever having to try. i just want them to love me, just because.” you have never thought about it like that. yes, your feelings for beomgyu had the privilege of taking years to grow, but you never had to force yourself to love him. you just… did. and now, as you look at taehyun, you realize you always will. but taehyun is so, so good. you can’t bear to not have him in your life.

“b-but i don’t want to lose you,” you plead between your tears.

“and you don’t have to,” he says softly. “we can still be friends, right? i like you too much to not have you in my life, even if it’s not the same as it is now.” you furiously nod in agreement. even now, he’s so incredibly kind and patient that you can't believe it. he’s giving you an out and he seems to understand you without you having to explain.

“always,” you say with a sob. he pulls you into a hug and you can’t help but kiss his cheek for the last time. “thank you.”

“of course, i just want you to be happy,” he says with a smile.

“why are you so nice?” and you must’ve asked him this question about a million times in the duration of your relationship, but you can’t help but ask one last time.

“‘cause you deserve it.” he replies simply as he pets your hair. “now go. he needs you.”

and needs you, he does. beomgyu is currently lying in bed, thinking about the scene of you and taehyun all in each other’s arms. that scene will haunt him forever, along with every unsavory word and action he’s ever said or done towards you. he doesn’t mean for the tears to fall, but they do, anyway. he’s stuck in this endless purgatory before he hears sharp knocking on his door. heeseung must be back for god knows what. hopefully, it’s not to tease him again, but he knows once he sees his teary eyes, he won’t let it go.

“oh, fuck off,” he yells, pulling the covers over his head, but the knocking doesn’t stop. eventually, he stalks over to his door and swings it open. “i said, fuck—” his words die on his lips when he sees you standing there looking as beautiful as ever. your eyes snap up to meet his and he can’t help but feel his breath catch in his throat.

you look very small in this moment, with your arms folded and your foot tapping, almost like you don’t even know what you’re doing here.

he beckons you in before you can leave.

“what… what are you doing here?” he asks tentatively as he offers you a seat on his couch. you don’t take it. your eyes, however, study him mercilessly. he is suddenly all too aware of his current sloppy appearance. he tries to discreetly fix himself up by smoothing out his hair and clearing his throat. he hopes you don’t notice how insecure he feels right now, but you do. of course you do, how could you not? you know him far too well.

“what you said last night… do you mean it?” you ask quietly.

“i did! i mean, i do. i really do,” he answers panickedly. you have to know how sincere he is. what is this? closure for you?

“i’ve thought about it,” you begin slowly and he gulps. you’ve thought about him? “and i think… i think i’d like to try.”

“what do you mean?” he’s trying not to get his hopes up, but he’d be lying if he said his heart isn’t racing faster and faster with each passing moment.

“i mean, i think i want to let you try. but i won’t let you walk all over me. not anymore. if you think i’m the same person i was before, you’re wrong. i’ll give you one chance, but you’d better—” you don’t get to finish your sentence before he’s taking you in his arms and holding you so tightly you almost can’t breathe.

“thank you,” he says shakily, kissing the top of your head. “i love you. and i promise, i swear on my life i will be better. i’ll do whatever it takes. just don’t leave me again, okay?” he can’t control his tears now, and neither can you.

“okay,” you say so softly, he almost doesn’t hear it, but thank god above that he does.

after what feels like forever, beomgyu, finally releases his hold on you. his misty eyes scan your face and his treacherous gaze keeps finding its way to your reddened lips. he’s silent for a few seconds before he says:

“can i kiss you?” he asks so meekly you almost can’t comprehend that it’s the beomgyu you know and love.

“mhm,” you answer, and before you can say anything more, his lips are on yours. you didn’t know a kiss could be teeming with so much emotion. you didn’t know a kiss could be filled with such an ache. he’s gentle, like you’d break with even a modicum of more force, but the kiss is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced in that you’ve never felt more worshiped in your life. he’s holding you reverently, like you’re the most precious thing in the world. and, to him, you really are.

“i just realized something,” you remark after breaking away. he looks like a man starved wirh the way his eyes are alight with a hunger you’ve never seen before.

“what is it?” he asks, still a little nervous that you’ll come to your senses and leave him for good.

“i didn’t tell you about taehyun. you didn’t even ask.”

“should i have asked?” oh god, were you cheating on taehyun right now?

“i guess not, but you need to know he’s my friend now. if we’re gonna be together, you’ll have to be okay with that.”

beomgyu doesn’t know how to feel about it. truthfully, it’s making him incredibly insecure, but he feels he has no right to make demands. not when you’re being so merciful. however, he wants to try to communicate with you. that’s what being a healthy relationship should be like, and he’ll try his damnedest to make sure you two get off on the right foot, too. this time, at least.

“to be honest with you, it makes me a little… a little scared. i don’t want you to leave me for him.” you gently cup his cheek and he leans into the touch, grabbing your hand as if he’s afraid you’ll drop it if he doesn’t hold it there.

“i won’t do that. i would never hurt you like that. and taehyun is a great guy, you might actually like him a lot under different circumstances. i’m not saying you have to be friends with him, but i would like it if you gave me a chance to prove to you that he and i can be friendly without you having to be insecure.”

“okay,” he says with a smile. because how could he say no to you?

loving beomgyu was never the problem. you’ll always love him, that much you know, but you were honestly just nervous that he’d fall back into his old, shitty habits. he hasn’t, and thank god for that, but new problems have arisen that you sincerely did not anticipate. for example, the fact that he constantly wants to be with you. that could very well be because you told him his friends were shitty and they made you feel bad, so he’s in the market for some friends who won’t actively make his life worse. it’s not a bad thing, per se, but it’s funny how much a man who previously seemed to only barely tolerate your presence can’t seem to get enough of you. it’s flattering, really.

“baby, can’t you just stay over again?” he whines.

“no, beoms, i have to work early tomorrow morning and you’ll just keep me up all night,” you reason.

“i won’t! i promise, i won’t!” he exclaims.

“that’s what you always say,” you snort. “yet i’m somehow always late to work the next day.”

“i’ll be good, i swear!” he sounds so desperate you almost wanna believe him.

“yeah, right,” you say with a shake of your head. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“what if you moved in? or i can move in? that way, we’ll see each other more and i won’t have to keep you up all night because i’ll know i can just see you the day after!” he seems extremely proud of himself for cooking that one up, but you’re still stuck on the moving in together part. this is a serious, serious step in your relationship. one you had not even hinted at taking, even during your first go together and that had been almost a full year.

“are you serious?” you hesitantly ask.

“so serious,” he answers.

“... fine.”

“and you’ll stay over tonight, right? to celebrate.”

“... fine,” you relent. he actually audibly cheers at this. god, you almost regret agreeing.

notes pt. 2: hi... i hope both endings were satisfying! if not, i did my best. anyway, feedback is always craved to a disgusting degree. love u guys!

[taglist]

@my313 @woncheecks @superbbananananana @zzhyuu @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @defnotleee @everythingvirgoes

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deans-baby-momma · 1 year

Text

Law & Love Chapter 7

THEN

"Believe me, I would love nothing better than to make love to you and claim you but……just not tonight, okay?"

The sincerity and honesty is not only his words but his eyes and that fills me with warmth and desire.

NOW

To say the next morning is irrefutably awkward is the understatement of the century! Not only had I had an erotic dream that caused me to moan in my sleep; but I woke up the star of said dream beside me in bed; rubbing one out.

I am humiliated. Even after we caught one another in the throes of orgasm, Beau had turned down my seduction- actually flat out refused it.

Words are not spoken as we wake next to one another. Beau silently climbs out of bed and I watch him disappear into the bathroom.

Am I just so hideous, the need to get away so strong that he rushed to lock himself away? Is he embarrassed that I caught him jerking off?

Ok, on second thought, he did say he was interested but that now wasn't a good time to get physical so he is attracted to me, I'm not appalling. So was he mortified that I'd caught him pleasuring himself?

I don't have an answer for that and to be honest, I have no idea how to even ask that so I decide to drop it. Whatever is bothering the Sheriff this morning was his to deal with.

I get out of bed and walk out of the bedroom into the kitchen/dinette/living quarters of the camper and smile when I spot the full coffee pot on the counter. It must have been programmed to brew automatically. Thank you God!

I savor the dark roast as I scan the interior of the home Beau has made for himself. The utilities are scarce; the stove is just a range top settled on the counter, the refrigerator is a miniature version, and the sink has only one bowl. At least there was a drying rack to the side.

I spot a myriad of photos pinned to the wall and step closer to examine them. Most of the pictures were of a little girl throughout different stages of life;sleeping in a crib with a cute little pink bow on her dark hair, sitting in a high chair with a birthday cake on the tray, dressed up as Dorothy from Wizard of Oz, crying on Santa's lap.

My gaze goes back to the Halloween picture and my eyes widen. Standing beside her is the Tinman and Scarecrow but what caught my attention was Beau in the silver can costume. Is this his daughter, Emily?

Once I decide that that could be the only answer, I take notice of the scarecrow. Of course I can't make out much of her features due to the makeup on her face, but her eyes seem friendly and the smile on her face is contagious.

"That was Em's 4th Halloween," Beau says as he steps up beside me. "She was obsessed with Wizard of Oz and nothing'd do for her but to be Dorothy for Halloween.

"She cried because we didn't have a Toto for her but Carla, her mother, soothed her and explained we couldn't just get a dog for one day."

I look up at him as he stares at the photograph in reverence. I can see in his face that he loves his daughter immensely. But what about her mother? What happened there?

I look back at the picture and study it; they seemed happy. They look like they were a loving family. So what happened?

"Where are they now?" I cautiously ask, afraid he's going to tell me a heart-wrenching story of their demise.

“Just south of here actually,” Beau says as he turns to pour his own coffee into a mug. “My ex married some rich tech-savvy guy, Avery, who owns a ranch just outside of town and moved my daughter up here so I followed-” he takes a sip of the hot brew. “-she’s my baby. I love her and couldn’t stand the thought of being miles away from her.”

The way he spoke I wasn’t sure if he was speaking of his daughter or his ex.

“I don’t like it,” Beau repeats as we pull up outside of the diner. “Your stalker could very well be one of the regular customers, Y/N. I can’t sit in there and watch all day. Why don’t you just let me take you back to my place and hide out there?”

I can feel the anger bubbling inside, ready to explode. “Oh so now I’m supposed to run away and hide like a weak ass bitch?”

Beau sighs, exasperated. “I didn’t mean it like that Y/N. I just….I don’t like knowing that there is someone in my town that is capable of doing this right under my nose. Hell, he broke into your car in broad daylight and left those messages for you at your home. Evidently, he has a vendetta against you and you’re just going to go on into work like it’s a normal day?”

“Beau, I refuse to be a baby. I put up with Anthony for longer than I should have. I can handle myself. I promise.”

I can see the conflict on his face as the Sheriff stares out the windshield. I know this is dangerous territory; I’ve never had a stalker before and if he can break into my car and paint messages on my door with no fear of repercussions, what else is he willing to do to get my attention? I can understand Beau’s reluctance, but I also don’t want to put my life on hold.

“What if-” I suggest timidly but assuredly, “-I call you if anything out of the ordinary happens? If anyone is giving me a weird or strange vibe, you will be the first one I call.”

After a few minutes, Beau agrees. “Okay, but I’m walking you in. Hopefully, if he’s in there already and sees you on the arm of the Sheriff, it will deter whatever plans he might have.”

“How chivalrous.” I mock exclaim. “My knight in shining…..um well, denim.”

Beau and I both laugh as we step out of the truck and he meets me at the hood.

“Mi’lady,” he dramatizes as he offers his arm; I take it and smile.

“Thank you, kind sir.”

All eyes are on us when we walk in; thankfully the breakfast crowd hasn’t filled up the restaurant yet. Deb’s eyes widen but she quickly catches herself and smiles.

“Hello Sheriff. Y/N. I didn’t know you two knew each other,” she says and I give her a look telling her I knew she was full of shit. She knew he left that note for me the other day. She also knew I thought he was the one sending me all the gifts.

Beau leans down to whisper in my ear. “Wonder what she'd think if we told her we shared a bed last night?” I could hear the laughter in his voice but I just shook my head, a smile -and possibly a small blush- on my face.

Now, I’m going to be thinking about what he was doing in that shared bed last night. Well, there went the prospect of me having an easy shift. Not with that memory refreshed!

“Deb,” I say instead. “The Sheriff and I are dating; it’s a long story, I’ll tell you during the lull between rushes. But for now, Beau must go spend a day solving crimes and I must serve food.”

I turn and kiss Beau on the mouth and join Deb behind the counter. We both watch as his bow legs take him back to his truck and out of the parking lot.

“Girl, don’t leave a single detail out,” Deb says and I laugh as I grab the order Pops, the cook put out.

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @spnbaby-67 @tftumblin @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @deanwanddamons @supraveng @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites @yvonneeeeeeee

#law & love #jensen ackles #big sky #beau arlen #beau x reader

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hufflepuffwithaslytherinkink · 2 years

Text

Tacenda - Chapter 5 Snippet

Eleanor enjoys her date with Dean though she spots Hannah, Charlie and even Joe watching her for part of it. Joe scrutinising everything as Hannah and Charlie whisper to each other behind their hands, making weird gestures with their hands.

She sends them a warning glare but Charlie grins holding his thumbs up making Eleanor look at him in horror.

Dean turns around to see what she’s looking at before bursting into laughter as Charlie and Hannah fumble around trying to make it look as though they weren’t spying on them.

“I see your friends are enjoying themselves.” He turns back to her with an amused expression.

Eleanor covers her face with her hands. “I swear to God I didn’t know they’d be here.”

“It’s okay, I guess they’re just looking out for you.” He shrugs.

“They’re embarrassing and have no boundaries.” Eleanor fumes. Dean snorts.

“Isn’t that all friends?” He asks.

Eleanor shrugs before smiling at him. “I’ll tell them to leave.”

“It’s okay, as long as they don’t stop me from kissing you then I don’t mind them being overprotective.” He tells her.

Eleanor’s heart splutters at his words. He wanted to kiss her.

“You want to kiss me?” She asks timidly.

Dean nods giving her a lopsided smile. “Of course I do, I asked you on a date. And talking to you just makes me want to kiss you more.” He confesses his eyes dropping to her mouth.

Eleanor blushes at his words, smiling coyly. She won’t deny she wants to kiss him too. He’s gorgeous and she’d heard he’s an excellent kisser.

“So can I?” He asks.

Eleanor looks at him nervously. “I said yes to the date didn’t I?” She states making him grin.

Dean moves closer, letting his hand fall to her knee before cupping her neck, his thumb brushing along her jaw line as he presses their lips together.

Dean’s kiss is more rushed than any she’s had before, he instantly starts to move his mouth against hers. It’s not bad or forced just hurried, as though desperate to touch her, to taste her.

She sighs contentedly as she’s hit with the taste of butter beer as she allows him to open her mouth. Dean’s hands tighten slightly at the sound.

Eleanor has to admit it’s a nice kiss, he’s certainly skilled, a lot better than Cormac.

They pull away a little breathlessly, Dean’s lips swollen and a smug smirk plastered onto them.

Eleanor feels her cheeks burn at the realisation she’d just kissed him in a crowded room.

Dean stares at her lustfully, a happy smile on his face. “I’m going to go the loo, do you want me to get more drinks on the way back?” He asks.

Eleanor looks at their almost empty glasses. “It’s okay I’ll get them.” She says happily. She wants something to do after that anyway or she’ll panic thinking people are staring at her.

“Are you sure?” Dean asks. “I don’t mind getting them.”

“Honestly I don’t mind, you got the last lot.” She reassures him.

Dean nods. “Okay then, I’ll be back in a moment.”

He walks away turning around to grin at her as he walks. As soon as he’s out of sight Eleanor gets up and makes her way to the bar.

She feels hot all over and can’t stop licking her lips, they’re almost tingling.

She smiles as she brushes her fingers over them.

“That was very public.” Theo is stood beside her leaning on the bar as he waits to be served.

“Excuse me?” Eleanor asks.

“I didn’t take you for the kind of person to have public displays.” He says almost harshly.

Eleanor blinks at him. “How would you know? You barely talk to me.” She snaps at him.

Theo glances at her before shrugging. “I know more about you than anyone would like. Was it as good?”

“Was what as good?” She asks irately.

“Did kissing him make you feel as good as kissing me?” He says with a slight smugness.

Eleanor turns to him with an appalled expression. How could he ask that? What did he think gave him the right to ask that?

If truth be told, no it didn’t. It was longer and slightly more heated than her kiss with Theo, but no it didn’t make her feel as good. Not nearly as good.

“That’s none of your business.” She snaps at him.

Theo just smirks. “Didn’t think it did.”

Eleanor narrows her eyes at him before turning back to bar. Madam Rosmerta is walking towards them. Eleanor is about to ask for two more butterbeers when Theo speaks up.

“Hi Madam Rosmerta. Can I have three butterbeers please?” He grins at her charmingly.

Madam Rosmerta smiles at him sweetly before turning to make his order.

“Oh you arse.” Eleanor hisses at him.

Theo cocks a brow at her. “I don’t know what you mean.” He says innocently.

“I was here first and you know it.” She tells him.

“I know.” He smiles at her infuriatingly.

Eleanor turns away from his stupid face, glaring at the bottles of alcohol behind the counter trying to control her breathing. Why did he make her so angry?

Madam Rosmerta places the drinks on the bar and Theo pays before she turns her attention to Eleanor.

“What can I get you dear?” She asks pleasantly.

“Two butterbeers please.” She says as politely as she can, it’s not Madam Rosmerta’s fault Theo is an arse.

Madam Rosmerta smiles turning to get the drinks when Theo speaks up. “Just one butterbeer please Madam Rosmerta.” He tells her. “I already got Eleanor one.”

Madam Rosmerta gives them a pointed look, practically winking at Eleanor before turning to get the other butterbeer.

Eleanor turns to face Theo with a stunned expression, what is he playing at?

He pushes one of the butterbeers towards her. “I realised I kissed you and never even got you a drink. I’m not a heathen Eleanor.” He tells her.

Eleanor stares at the butterbeer with suspicion.

“Why?” She asks.

“Why?” Theo questions looking at her curiously.

“Why are you getting me a drink? Why do you kiss me, then ignore me, then act weird when I kiss someone else?” She asks her voice getting louder and louder.

Theo continues to lean on the bar watching her impassively.

“I don’t know.” He mutters as though wondering it himself. He straightens up grabbing the two other butterbeers. “Sorry I only got you one butterbeer, but I don’t feel like buying your date a drink. Have fun, just not too much fun.”

He turns and strides towards a table in the corner where Blaise Zabini is sat watching them curiously. He starts to mutter as soon as Theo reaches the table but Theo just shrugs sitting down and sipping his butterbeer without a care in the world.

Eleanor turns her attention back to Madam Rosmerta. She’s just paid for the butterbeer when Dean joins her at the bar, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Hi.” He smiles at her, taking one of the drinks off the bar.

Thankfully not the one Theo bought. Though Eleanor isn’t sure why that’s such a relief to her.

“Hey.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to Honeydukes after here.” Dean suggests.

Eleanor beams at him. She loves Honeydukes, chocolate is definitely the way to her heart.

“I’d love that.” She responds picking up her own drink and returning to their table. She can feel Theo’s gaze burning her the entire time.

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pellucid-constellations · 2 years

Text

A Correspondence of Obligation - Seven

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader (Royal AU)

Summary: Obedience, duty, pristine smiles—raised as the princess of an oppressive kingdom, you knew nothing else. Your father signed your life away at the ripe age of five, black ink bleeding into a contract between nations, fate cemented with the flick of a quill. So when the time came to fulfill the promises you were too young to make, you expected much of the same in the land of Brookshire. But Prince James had other plans, as did the enemies looming outside the castle walls.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Nightmares, a bit of angst, soft protective Bucky :)

a/n: I appreciate feedback so much, let me know what you think! Thank you for reading ♡♡

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

You woke with a start, forehead chilled by the night breeze, chest heaving with labored breaths. It took a moment for you to ground yourself and collect the scene. Your sheets, the window Bucky had left ajar, the book he had been reading propped up on your side table; all proof that you were home and that you were safe.

Two weeks ago, you would have woken up worse. You would have been screaming and inconsolable and confused, and Bucky would somehow get to you before your guard could. He would shoulder your door open and take your panicked features between his hands, whispering reassurances that your mind was too frenzied to even comprehend.

The next morning, Natasha would tell you that she had made it into your room as well, but that her presence was hardly noticed. Your face would heat as she described the prince backed up against your headboard, his arms around you and his lips constantly brushing your head. Of course, you remembered all of that, but there was always a hint of embarrassment when it came to showing so much vulnerability.

Tonight was different, however. You could tell by the missing ache in your throat that you hadn’t woken up screaming, and regaining your bearings took seconds instead of minutes. It was a small kind of victory, but it also meant that Bucky wouldn’t come back to your room for the night.

You had fallen into a sort of routine with him ever since that first night. He would visit you after dinner with a candle and a book, suggesting that the words would put your mind at ease and allow you to sleep. He always stayed until you were heavy against his shoulder, but he never slept in your room. A pointless act, really, given that he was back beside you in just a few short hours, his voice lulling you back into a fitful slumber.

You figured he must’ve been annoyed after so many nights of the same, but when you had asked him as much—on one of the nights he had thought to throw the window open after your breathing had evened out—he looked appalled.

“Of course not. Why would you say that?”

You let out a shuddering sigh, Bucky’s heartbeat a soothing lullaby beneath your ear. “I wake you up so often. It must feel like a burden when I was hardly even injured that night.”

You felt Bucky’s neck crane from above you, his grip around your shoulders tightening. “You witnessed death, y/n. You were taken and men died around you—on top of you. I do not fault you for the way you are coping with that. I will come to your room every night if that’s what needs to be done.”

“But you have witnessed death,” you whispered, fiddling with the material of Bucky’s nightshirt. “You have witnessed far more than I ever will, and still, I am the weak one.”

When he moved away and sat you up, you were sure it was out of frustration or realization. He must have finally seen where your worries sprouted from and grown tired of your constant needs. But he leaned down to meet your gaze as he sat before you on the bed, and his face showed little of either emotion.

“You are not weak, my love,” he assured, tilting your head up with gentle fingers. “No one should be used to such pain—to death and rage. I pray to god that you never witness more than you already have… that you never become accustomed to its effects.”

Bucky stayed a bit longer on that night, long enough for a delicate morning sun to cast a glow on the lips he pressed to your forehead. You remembered because he was always touched by the moon when he left, and watching his hair lit by a warm amber hue was enough to grant you an extra three hours of peaceful sleep.

You always wished he would wake you up fully when he left, because the few times you had sat up before he reached the door, he had kissed you. Fully. Not a brush on the forehead or the cheek, but a kiss with his hands on your cheeks and a smile on your lips.

That wasn’t to say that Bucky never kissed you. No, it seemed that Bucky spent much of his day looking to do the opposite. He kissed you before meals and under the sconces of the hallway; in the gardens when you looked far away and within yourself, and by the sea when the boats stole your attention. But those were always quick and chastise, as if he couldn’t help but kiss you, even with others so near.

In the privacy of your rooms, before most of the castle was awake, those kisses meant more to you. They spoke of promises and reassurances, deep affection pressed into your skin and meant to stay there—to linger and flourish and provide comfort long after he had left.

God, you loved when he kissed you before he left.

You let out a long breath and ran a hand along your forehead, attempting to calm your racing thoughts even as they strayed toward Bucky. It was a futile attempt; you knew that without him here to press you into sleep, there would be no relief tonight. You supposed that was something you should get used to with the wedding still weeks away.

The curtains fluttered to your right, the breeze inviting as it flowed through your room and met the skin not covered by your quilt. Perhaps you would try to read yourself to sleep with whatever book Bucky left behind.

Truth be told, you had no idea what he brought in each night, content to simply listen to the timbre of his voice and wrap yourself up in the scent of him. Knowing him, he probably brought the most boring literature he could muster up, baring its mundane content in the hopes it would bore you to sleep.

You never got the chance to find out; the moment your fingers brushed the spine, your door creaked. Your sharp inhale was short lived as Bucky made himself seen almost instantly. He gave you a small, comforting smile as he stood a few paces from your bed, hands resting behind his back.

“Did I wake you?” he asked, no louder than a whisper.

You sat up, resisting the urge to beckon him to you; you weren’t in a state of panic, so he didn’t need to be in your bed. That would be illogical. “No, I woke up a few minutes ago.”

His eyes widened a fraction. “I did not hear you—”

“I did not wake up like that,” you comforted, playing with a thread on your blanket. “It wasn’t… pleasant. But it was nothing like it has been. Nothing to worry yourself over.”

You gave him a small smile, one he reciprocated as he shifted the weight between his feet. This was far more stiff than it had been every other night, your lack of hysterics surely the cause. When you were afraid and in need of desperate comfort, Bucky always knew what to do. But this—when you simply wanted him near without a visible cause, without a marriage bed to validate his presence—it was stiff.

Bucky seemed to share the sentiment as he stood there, looking impossibly endearing with his hair askew and his legs restless beneath him.

“Did you… did you have a nightmare? Is that why you came?” you posed, trying desperately not to eye the pillow beside you that he usually occupied.

He simply shook his head. “Nothing like that.”

“Have you not been able to sleep?”

“I can sleep, princess.”

You let out a small huff. “Bucky, you are making this very hard on me.”

“My apologies,” he chuckled. You never got to see his eyes so light at this time of night; they were usually heavy with worry. “I, uh, I don’t usually fall asleep until I know that you are. Ever since that first night, it makes me uneasy to think I could sleep through you needing me.”

You gaped, guilt filling you up until your face scrunched up in disapproval. Bucky loved you, told you that himself, but you hated the thought of him suffering because of you. He was a prince with many duties, and you were causing him to lose even more sleep than you originally thought.

“I assumed I woke you up every night with the screaming. I didn’t know that you…”

He caught the regret in your tone and quickly shot his hands out to wipe away the thought. “No, darling, no. It’s not your fault. Consider this a weakness of mine and not yours. You’ve never asked me to do anything. I can sleep, as I’ve said, but I sleep easier knowing you are alright.”

You worried your bottom lip, but nodded, even with the guilt still creeping through you. He seemed overjoyed that you would give in so quickly, but that was something else you were working on as well: accepting the type of love that Bucky was so persistent in showing you. After many talks and pleading whispers, you had begun to give in—just the slightest bit.

That joy on his face dimmed as another breeze rolled through your room, a reminder of the night, of the darkness beyond the curtains.

“I can see that you are well, though.” He took a small step back. Your heart clenched. “So I will see you in the morning, darling.”

Another step back and he touched the brass handle of your door, eyes still locked on yours because, clearly, he wasn’t going to ask to stay. This was your bedroom, after all, and after the events leading up to your attack, he was still treading lightly around you. He never wanted to take more than he was given, and he certainly didn’t want to push you away due to his own actions.

But after two weeks, you wished he would push again.

“Wait!” you called, and he removed his hand before the word could leave you fully.

“Yes?”

“I am not well.”

He furrowed his brows, apparently not expecting such a blunt answer. “You are not… well?”

You shook your head, reaching for the book on the table and sliding it into your lap. “No, I am not. I think I need you to read again. Perhaps when I fell asleep earlier, my mind was not satisfied with where the story left off.”

The smile on Bucky’s face was full and meant only for you. He removed his shoes by the foot of your bed and shook his head with what you could only assume was fondness, grabbing the book and pressing a kiss to your forehead before slipping under the blankets beside you.

He pulled you close and brushed your hair behind your ear as he stared down at you, filling you with such an indescribable warmth. It was true that you weren’t well before this; there was a strong chance that every night you would have to sleep without Bucky would be a night that you were unwell.

“I think your mind will continue to be disappointed, my love,” he spoke, the words rumbling in his chest and traveling through you. “This is, unfortunately, a rather dull story. I grabbed the first thing on my desk before I came to you earlier, and that just so happened to be my tax log.”

Your face heated, a shy laugh breathed out against his shirt. “Well, then that is why I was so discontent. Why would you bring that to read to me?”

“I did not want to be late.”

You shook your head in slight disbelief, burrowing further into Bucky’s comfort as he flipped open to a random page. He scanned it, and then glanced down at you in his arms, face softening before returning to the words. It only took a few moments before you spoke up.

“Perhaps we could just sleep? Would that be alright?”

It would mean more if he came and simply rested—if there were no screams or panic or words from a political log. Bucky seemed to understand that, and closed the book with a soft snap. “Of course,” he whispered.

He shifted you, sliding down until the pillows rested beneath his head and his heart rested beneath yours. His arms wound around you and his lips met your hair and you were sure there had never been a feeling more serene than this. The memories that plagued your dreams were still there, but they were set behind the walls that Bucky had formed for you, forged by the solace of his touch.

You weren’t sure how long it took before you began slipping into unconsciousness, your mind battling to hold onto the feelings of the waking world, but before you could completely fall, Bucky spoke against your temple.

“I’d like to show you something tomorrow, if that would be alright? In the morning, because it looks perfect then.”

Your lashes fluttered at the uncertainty lacing his tone, something that had surfaced over the last few weeks. It was as if he was afraid to toe a line with you, always looking for more but never wanting to reach too far—a sharp contrast to the man that would ask for your hand in the gardens and request nighttime conversations in empty hallways. He was trying. You were grateful.

And you still held reservations after everything that happened; still felt a pang within your chest at the images left to linger in your mind. But with each soft look from him, paired with hopeful smiles and gentle touches, you were healing.

“Okay, Bucky,” you agreed, a soft whisper almost lost to sleep. “Wake me when it’s time.”

A smile against your skin was his response, followed by an array of gentle kisses pressed there. Outside, the owls were alone with the moon, soon to be joined by the morning sun and you along with it.

You quickly learned that when the prince said the morning, he meant it. Recently, he had been adamant that you were to sleep as long as you needed, no wake up calls or early morning meetings disrupting the little sleep you were able to catch.

The first morning that rule had gone into effect had been chaotic and almost comical, the frustration held in Bucky’s posture making the throne room tense. It was only two days after the attack, and it was clear it had taken a toll on you.

“Peter,” Bucky chastised, words spoken through gritted teeth. “Please, enlighten me—did you wake the princess for this meeting, or was her highness already up?”

From beside you, Peter swallowed hard. You fought the urge to place a comforting hand on his shoulder; Bucky was so sweet and gentle with you, but you had seen first hand that those acts were not reserved for all. And he certainly didn’t look happy as he pointed his narrowed gaze at the squire.

Peter stuttered. “I, uh—well, your highness, I woke her. But I swear, Prince James, I thought it was needed! I thought she—“

“Tell me, Peter,” the prince posed, a few long, slow steps taken in your direction. “If you were attacked and part of a failed kidnapping ploy, would you enjoy attending a meeting on wheat distribution before breakfast?”

“I… most likely not, Your Highness,” he resigned, head hung.

“And did she not appear tired when you woke her? As if… maybe… the healers had placed her on bedrest?

Peter blanched, his mouth opening and closing and his brow quickly lining with sweat. You swayed a bit beside him, the exhaustion taking over, but not overriding the guilt for causing Peter so much trouble. You brought your hand up to graze the bandage on your head.

Bucky let out a small sigh, finally reaching you and placing a hand on the small of your back. “Do not let it happen again. I won’t hesitate to have Lady Maria assign you chores.”

Peter nodded vehemently, saluted Bucky—a rather odd gesture toward a prince—and shuffled out of the throne room after about ten apologies spoken to the floor in a bow.

The noblemen at the table in the center of the room quickly made conversation as Bucky turned his attention to you, soft eyes scanning your tired features. His hand never left your back, rubbing shapes into your loose gown as you stared up at him.

“You should have told him no,” Bucky reprimanded, but the words held no malice.

“He looked so determined. I couldn’t very well tell him that he was ignoring direct orders when he was so kind as he woke me.”

Bucky raised a brow and pressed forward to guide you to the hall. “You need sleep, darling. Your head—“

“—is not broken,” you finished for him. “I will have to get back to my normal duties soon enough.”

When the doors to the throne room closed behind the two of you, he kissed you. All soft lips and fluttering feelings, he kissed you as if he wanted to remember that you were there. And maybe to make you lose your train of thought as well, his next words saccharine against your mouth.

“Not yet. For me, please. To give me peace of mind.”

You slowly opened your eyes to invite the kindness of his gaze. You were going to agree to go back to your room, anyway, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the earnestness burning back at you.

“I think if you agreed to walk me back, I would be more than willing.”

Bucky kissed you again, short and sweet as he replied, “I would take you anywhere.”

After that ordeal, you always got to sleep until the birds at your window were the ones to make you rise. You were sure Bucky would yell at them too, if he had the means.

But this morning was different; this morning, you felt the first rays of the morning sun across your cheeks, still dim and with little warmth. Bucky was running his fingers along your back in gentle ministrations, whispering your name into incoherent ears. He was waking you, and not by accident, not with the intent to leave right away.

The conversation from the night before resurfaced in your mind. You took a deep inhale. Bucky spoke.

“Good morning, my love.”

You groaned in response, not the least bit regal. He simply chuckled, his hand coming up to the back of your head.

“Would you still like to join me? I can give you a few more hours of rest if you need it.”

You quickly shook your head, dreading the prospect of missing out on something he had planned. He had spent the better part of two weeks sheltering you; this was the first plan he had proposed, and you weren’t about to give that up.

“I will need to call Natasha to help me dress. She is awful so early in the morning—will hold it against me for days,” you mumbled, pushing up to look at Bucky with bleary eyes.

He hummed, fixing the shoulder of the knit he had thrown over you the night before. “What you are wearing is fine. I wouldn’t want your lady to be angry with you.”

“I cannot go walking the halls in my nightgown.”

“You won’t be in the halls.”

“But I will be in my nightgown?” you questioned, an accusatory brow raised at his smirk.

He leaned forward to press a kiss to your brow before standing from the bed. “You will,” he admitted. “I don’t want to lose any light.”

Bucky was back from his room just as you were ready to leave, a robe thrown over your nightgown even though he insisted it would be fine; he could see you in it, but to the rest of the court, you were a royal. And you weren’t too confident in his “no hallways” notion when everything outside of your room required the eyes of guards.

But as soon as Bucky’s feet crossed the threshold of your door, he was guiding you to the back wall. Your face was a picture of confusion when he took his hand from his pocket and let a key dangle from his fingers. You went to reach for it, but Bucky held it back out of view.

“You can have the key,” he started, a smile creeping up on his face at your impatience, “After I show you where to use it.”

You huffed. “Show me then, Prince Know It All.”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head, stepping past you to face the wall next to your window. He ran his hand down the wallpaper a few times, pressing the pads of his fingers into wood that wouldn’t give. You were about to speak up and let Bucky know that the wall had probably had enough of his prodding, when his nail caught a snag in the paper.

He held the strip firmly between his fingers and pulled until a lock was cleared. The key was in its slot before you had time to ask any questions, a door clicking as the wallpaper gave and ripped along the sides. It tore and tore, the sounds reverberating in the air, Bucky cringing with each tug.

“Sorry, I’ll have this fixed,” he mumbled. “In all honesty, this entrance hasn’t been used since I had your room decorated. I wanted it to be a surprise, and it seems they did a wonderful job at hiding it.”

You barely shot him a look, too enraptured by the short hallway coming into view. It wasn’t much—a few burnt out sconces and a bare stone floor—but there was a light casting shapes at the end of that hall, and Bucky’s apologies quickly became background noise.

You took a hesitant step forward, tilting your head to catch any other clues in the space. A memory shot through you at the rigidness of the charcoal walls; walking freely when a castle was asleep, dripping stones leading you to an outlook with a stolen canvas and paints you weren’t allowed to have. Steve, visiting when he had the time, always startling you with the softness of his footsteps within an echoing passage.

A freedom within a cage. A light in an otherwise dim palace.

And now, some semblance of that was being splayed out in front of you in a place you now called home, a far cry from the suffocation of your youth. It confused you and excited you all within the same breath.

“After you, my princess.”

The first step into the passageway was jarring; the next one was a breath of fresh air and awe so deep you felt it in your gut. The dark hall had become a wide-open room, alight with paneled windows and ceilings out to the sky. Plants flourished with vibrate greens and purples, encasing the art along the walls with its vines and its foliage. Spun glass hung from window sills and swayed with the wind as it gently whispered through translucent curtains. The ground was a tiled pale pink, cracks in each of the stones a sign of trade and imports—a sign of Brookshire.

And in the center of the room, by the widest window, in the widest patch of morning sun, was an array of so many things you used to keep hidden. Easels and paint and brushes finer than anything the stable boy in Hyland could have procured; an empty canvas with nothing but opportunities in its stitching, nothing but an invitation.

You stood in the middle of it all and stepped in a slow circle to take it all in. It made sense why Bucky would want to bring you in the morning; with a new sun peeking bashfully between panels and finding the fractures in the tiles with such ease, you were sure a harsher sun wouldn’t have done as much justice. That a place like this was meant for delicate notions and whispers of beauty.

You’d come back at sunset—if you were allowed.

After so much quiet, you jumped as Bucky’s low voice spoke out, “Do you like it?”

“It is truly beautiful,” you replied, much softer than his question. “Whose room is this?”

Bucky furrowed his brow, stepping forward until loose ivy sprung past his shoulder. It bobbed and coiled back into its original shape, and you watched instead of meeting Bucky’s eye.

“Yours.”

You snapped your gaze up, challenging his sincerity with pure perplexity. Yours? It couldn’t be yours; Bucky wouldn’t have had the time to put this together since you got here, especially seeing as it shared a wall with your room. You would have heard something, caught a rumor or felt a sudden change within the castle’s staff as they went to work on the secret.

It had to have belonged to someone else. His mother maybe, or a cousin. Perhaps, it was just a dayroom and Bucky thought it would be a nice place for you to gather your thoughts after so much stress. But you kept searching his eyes, flitting your own between his, and you found no deceit there. He reached for you as you stood dumbfounded, and when his hands met yours, you remembered.

“You should see the room he has set up for you. There is a door that leads to the—”

Steve, showing you around the castle and trying to talk the prince up before you cut off his speech. He could have been talking about something else, somewhere else, but then…

“Meet me in the gardens at dusk. I have something to show you and I promise it will make up for my absences.”

Bucky had spoken those words to you just hours before your world had started ripping apart at the seams. You had forgotten about the aforementioned surprise after everything had happened, but now, standing in this room, you couldn’t help but wonder.

“Before I saw you and Sharon—” Bucky flinched at your words, the slightest blink, a bit harder than the rest “—was this what you wanted to show me?”

He rubbed his thumbs across your knuckles. “Yes. I wanted to show you on your first day here, but Steve advised me against that. I can genuinely thank him for that, I suppose. You might have run away screaming back then.”

“When did you… when did you make this? Why did you?”

“I started right after Steve told me you liked to paint. You still hadn’t answered a single one of my letters, but I assumed you might like a private place of your own once you got here,” he smiled, brushing a hand up to rest on your cheek. “But then you got here and you never asked to paint, and all I knew about you a few weeks in was that you enjoyed our walks around the gardens… they were the only times you looked at peace.

“So I would take the servants’ entrance and fill the room with the plants you stopped by the most. Became quite the gardener if I do say so myself.”

You giggled, covering his hand with your palm. “What were the plants meant to do?” you breathed out.

He leaned forward and pressed a whisper of a kiss to your forehead. “They were an attempt to make you feel the way I do—whenever you are around.”

You could feel the burn of tears behind your eyes, so overwhelmed by the sight of him in this room meant for you, aglow with honey light and dazed, tired features. He was yours, this was yours, and there was so much you wanted to say. You wanted to tell him that you had no idea what love was, but that your stomach flipped every time you saw him; that if there was ever a time something good happened and he wasn’t around to see it, he would be the first to hear it from you; that when he kissed you, your world crashed.

Your throat closed up instead, a few tears escaping onto raised cheeks. You smiled, and Bucky replicated it, almost breathless as he whispered I love you and kissed you as if the world truly was seconds away from coming to an end.

Rushed lips pressed to yours and crimson-tinted glass cast light on corners of the room you would discover later. A cloud passed over the skylight as kisses trailed down to your neck—as hands found purchase in the material of your nightgown and pulled you closer until you were out of breath and weightless.

The entire room simply glowed; you glowed.

It wasn’t until Bucky pulled away—all heavy breaths and lazy smiles—that you remembered a key component of the room. And for the first time in a long time, it excited you.

“Would you like to stay while I paint?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #a correspondence of obligation #prince!bucky

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