#make room for ice king au

[mushtoons]

sorry this interaction wouldn't leave us alone

[drowsydarling]

it is like 12 am sorry for the shitty doodle but i had to get this au idea out of my head😭😭 im sure im not the first to think of this idea and there's probably some reason im forgetting that this didn't happen, but still,, im coping ;_;

[sleepingdead96]

Ambassador Danny AU

Just a silly thing knocking around in my brain.

Batman halted in the door of the conference room, taking in the sight of a strange being lounging imperiously in his chair. His white hair seemed to defy gravity ever so gently and his green, glowing eyes—Jason’s eyes—stared back with none of the regard or fear so many people showed towards Batman. His tanned face was speckled with tiny stars that Batman had to actively resist becoming memorized by. The boy’s choice of covering was sheening armour that refracted the light through his chest-plate of black ice. The white sleet that sharpened his knuckles seemed perfectly capable of movement despite it encasing his hands in similar fashion to the chest-plate; glassy in it’s brutal edges and as hard as the sheets that form over the coldest of lakes. 

The watchtower had been invaded. Batman had questioned why the place was so cold when he’d arrived. Now he knew.

The only thing that kept Batman from immediately reacting might have—very much—had to do with how young he looked. A boy in the second half of his teens.

And the fact that several other Justice League members were at Batman’s back as he strolled further into the room, watching the boy warily.

The boy’s eyes were unconcerned as he watched the Justice League file in. Worryingly so. Who was he that he would be so unfazed, how powerful? Or was it faith he wouldn’t be harmed, taking advantage of the Justice League’s strong morals?

The teen had commandeered the chair with all the authority of a king and the confidence of one assured of their own position. He sprawled across it. The chairs were all identical of practical, unassuming make, but this boy made it look like his throne as he leaned heavily on one side and stretched one leg way on the other. A hand was extended to dangle off one chair-arm and he had a knee braced up, showing an armoured shin protecting his black, sturdy, cargo-like pants and iced boots that jagged treacherously upwards.

The boy smirked. “Took you long enough. I was getting bored.”

Batman resisted the urge to clamp his hands over his already protected ears from the unearthly static and screeching glaciers that came from the boy’s mouth. He noticed Superman flinch and his face grimace.

“Who are you?” Batman growled. This boy was obviously inhuman. He was also an unknown. Batman would be foolish to underestimate someone who had somehow infiltrated the watchtower without being seen or setting off any alerts. Who exuded too much confidence, as if the entire world was at his fingertips.

Attacking took the back-burner in favour of garnering information in such a concerning situation.

“You may address me as. . .” He contemplated a bit too much for Batman to believe whatever he would give them would be his true name. “Danny.”

“. . .Danny.” 

The name was so. . .normal.

“How did you get here?” Wonder Woman asked with hints of warning and aggression.

The boy smiled. He had fangs. Too many sharp teeth. He didn’t answer and was revelling in their ignorance.

“What are you doing here?” Superman asked. It said something about Danny’s energy that even superman was being cautious about approaching.

“Waiting for you.” He smirked.

“Why?” Batman pushed as much threat and intimidation into his stance and words as he could. He usually didn’t have to think about it. “What do you want?”

Danny chuckled and a shiver ran up Batman’s spine. Goosebumps formed even through the protective layers that shielded him from the cold.

“Why don’t you sit?” The words should have been innocent. They felt like a trap. “You’ve gathered for a meeting, haven’t you?” 

The league members didn’t move. Danny sighed.

“Fine, fine, fine.” He rolled his eyes and Batman was eerily reminded of how much the adolescent exasperation reminded him of his own children. Danny leaned off the chair arm to lean an elbow on the table instead, propping his chin up. He was all teeth. “The Infinite Realms wishes for peace. I’ve come to investigate the possibility of a treaty on behalf of the High King.”

<><><><>

“THERE’S A DENIZEN OF THE INFINITE REALMS IN THE WATCHTOWER??!!!”

Batman held the phone away from his face at Constantine’s uncharacteristic display of panic. It did not bode well and it settled uncomfortably in his bones.

He grunted in affirmation.

Constantine swore up and down enough to fill Alfred’s swear jar ten times over. “What do they want?! What did you say to them!? Ohhhh, bloody ****! You’ve already antagonized them haven’t you?!”

“No.” Batman ground out.

Constantine was quiet. Several seconds ticked by.

“. . .WELL?!”

“He claims the High King wants to negotiate for peace.”

There was silence on the other end. Batman usually preferred it when Constantine was quiet, but this was thick and seemed to claw out of the phone to infect the watchtower. It muffled the noises and beeps and drowned out the presence of the other league members who had stepped out of the conference room with him.

Then there was a great, controlled release of wavery air. When Constantine spoke, it was more serious than Batman ever remembered hearing him.

“Okay, okay.” Constantine mumbled to himself. “Listen closely, Bats, and repeat everything, and I mean everything, to your circus clowns.”

Superman cleared his throat. “We’re here.”

“YOU LEFT THE AMBASSADOR ALONE?!”

“Of course not! Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter are monitoring him.” Batman said. 

Constantine grumble-sighed. “Good.” He mumbled. “Two of the competent ones. I don’t trust Bats not to **** this up and get us all killed.”

“What now?” Flash said.

Batman was a little offended. “Constan—“

“NO!” He yelled vehemently. He sounded a little manic. “Batsy, you have the emotional intelligence of a wet paper bag, a sad, trampled, wet paper bag with so many holes that it can’t even be considered a bag anymore, you have the emotional intelligence of wet, paper scraps and the diplomacy of a feral hyena! Unless he addresses you first, Do. Not. Initiate! Do not open your mouth! I have no faith in you whatsoever!”

“I will n—“ Batman tried to growl again, but Constantine cut him off. Again!

“No!” Constantine reiterated oh, so eloquently. “Look.” He sighed. “Getting news of the newest High King since he defeated the last one has been near impossible. All Deadman will tell me is that he’s better than the last guy and we are incredibly lucky our entire dimension wasn’t wiped out after that stunt the American government pulled with the Anti-ecto Acts.”

Batman saw some of the leaguers pale. He suddenly wasn’t feeling the best either.

“Anti-Ecto Acts?”

“Laws declaring their species non-sentient and illegal, I dealt with it, thing is, this is an extremely delicate situation.” He stressed. “We don’t know what kind of ruler he is, what little thing might set him off, and we cannot afford to set the High King off! Capiche?! It’s a good sign that he’s willing to negotiate peace, but he could change his mind. Some ghosts are very temperamental.”

“Ghosts.” Several of the leaguers repeated. Constantine let out an incredibly exasperated sound.

“Do you idiots know nothing?! Yes, ghosts! The Infinite Realms is the dimension between dimensions, the land of the dead and the never-born! They are incredibly powerful entities and many of them could level our planet easily! Whatever you do, DO NOT ask how they’ve died! It is highly taboo and you’ll get yourselves killed!” Constantine let out a stressed groan.

“I would come back and deal with this myself, but I am. . .occupied at the moment. Don’t try to negotiate without me! You lot will muck everything up! And seriously, DO NOT ASK HOW THEY’VE DIED! Keep the Ambassador happy until I can get there, convince him to stay! We might not have another chance like this, don’t annoy them, do not ignore them, and, just in general, don’t give the ambassador any reason to deliver anything negative to King Phantom and have him erase us all, got it?”

The Justice League exchanged several, stunned looks.

“Got it?”

Batman grunted.

“Good. And Bats.” Constantine added lowly. “If this fails, I am blaming you for the end of the world.”

Constantine ended the call and the phone beeped before drowning everyone in silence. The leaguers shared more looks.

“Now what?” Hal said.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score - Epilogue | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: months have passed since the finals with no sign of Aemond, making you wonder if anything has changed | Word Count: 6k~ | Warnings below the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: p in v sex, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), degradation, praise, *a finger in the bum*, butt play, ass eating, orgasm denial, creampie, ass slapping, pussy slapping, face slapping

A/N: *don't get emosh, don't get emosh, don't get emosh* I can't believe it's really REALLY the end! I've had this idea for the Epilogue for AGES and can't wait for you all to read the last instalment of our figure skating couple <3 would die for them and hope you enjoy!

"Good, but bend your knees!" You shout to El who's still got her hands outstretched haphazardly, wobbling on the ice as others whizz past her, knocking her off balance.

She throws a middle finger.

Charming.

You laugh as she pushes off to do another lap, reaching down between your legs for the bag and pulling your phone out for any new texts.

Nothing, you sigh.

El makes you jump, bumping into the ledge, "Will you stop being a simp and checking your phone every two seconds? He's going to text you!"

You click your phone off, "I know. I'm just so impatientttt…" you whine, exaggerating your frustration.

El rolls her eyes, "He'll get in, bud"

"Ew, don't call me that"

"Besides, if he gets rejected, he could always be your new manager, pal" she grins.

"You're so fucking gross, you know that?"

She shrugs, a grin that spells victory, "that'd be kinda hot to be fair. Going everywhere with you to competitions, organising your hotel rooms, fucking you over his des-"

"El! For fucks sake" you whisper-shout, heat rising to your cheeks.

A few other skaters on the ice turn their heads in judgment, making your face burn with embarrassment.

"Gods, so uptight" El jokes, a mischievous grin on her face.

To tell the truth. You missed Aemond. In all aspects.

You hadn't had sex since being in Dorne. And you hadn't seen him since the hospital.

Even though you texted most days, after months of seeing him everyday, it was quite the shock to the system.

It felt like there was a hole, conveniently Aemond-shaped, that was deepening the longer you two were separated.

"Oof!"

You both look up, to see Floris on the ice, wobbling her way back onto her feet, grimacing, "I'm ok!" She reassures, pushing off to skate slowly.

You nod in Floris' direction, "Is she okay skating?"

"Yeah, the physiotherapist said it'd be good to get her doing things like this again" El replies, looking over her shoulder at her sister.

She turns back to you, "Your manager doesn't hang around here anymore. Not since Floris has started coming back".

You resist the urge to frown.

Coward.

“Got you”, El smirks mischievously, "will you tell me what happened one day?"

It was something you’d thought about for some time. To tell her, or not? Floris certainly didn’t know the deeper details, but you knew she would have had suspicions.

Aemond was obviously unbothered if such information circulated, having put a very large proverbial wall between him and Otto the moment he was discharged from hospital. And yet, it still wouldn’t feel right, airing out all the Targaryen dirty laundry like that.

Even if he said it was okay.

But maybe, on a deeper level, Floris and El at least, deserved the truth.

"One day" you promise.

The cold winter chill nips at your bones, even through the layers of thermal clothing you've got piled on, the thick socks, boots and an overcoat, it still feels positively freezing.

“Who are you texting, missy?” you tease, bumping El on the shoulder, shoving your hands into your thick coat pockets.

She flushes, from the weather or the embarrassment you are unsure, but she puts her phone away quickly, “Nobody, you nosy cow”

King's Landing Winter Wonderland, Christmas Market and trinket shops, though it's far too early for any of that, it gets the people into the spirit. Stalls line the market square with several of them selling holiday related items as well as food, with an ice rink circling the entirety of the perimeter.

The air smells of mulled wine, cooked meats and the laughter of families and couples alike. With their warm breath creating clouds of white with each exhale.

El has you excitedly tucked into her arm, telling you all about her newest boyfriend, who for all intents and purposes is both hot and a keeper.

Ah, so that’s who she was talking to.

"He's already talking about us moving in together! Before the end of the year" She says excitedly, but her face falls, "but…I don't want to leave you in the lurch paying the rent by yourself".

You scoff, "I won't take you away from good dick because of fucking rent" you smirk, "if you want to, go for it".

She arches her eyebrows in uncertainty, "You sure?"

You pat her gloved hand with yours, "very", you smile, "as long as he doesn't steal you away from me, I want the lowdown".

"Oh you'll get that alright", she laughs.

Having poked your heads into a few stalls, and several sips of mulled wine later, you smirk as El is glued to her phone. Again.

"That your man?" You ask.

She quickly puts it away, biting her lip, "Yup" she replies, "wanna go skating?"

You roll your eyes, "It's not like it's my fucking job, El. Sick of it".

"Oh come on! I won't have to use the kids stabilisers anymore!"

She gives you her wide, puppy-like eyes.

Ones you know you can't refuse.

"Fine" you sigh.

She is far too excited to say that literally a few hours before she was struggling to use her two flippers to stay upright on the rink. Nevermind going backwards.

It’s quite entertaining to see her drag you by the hand excitedly to the ticket gate.

“One ticket for skating, please! Size 5!” she beams at the receptionist, who looks like he’d rather be dead right now.

You furrow your brows, “One? Did you want to go on by yourself and I watch or-”

“Nope! Just you” she grins.

“Me? El, what in seven hells are you on abou-”

She shoves the skates into your hands and practically pushes you past the gate, waving you off, “no questions!”

You don’t even really have time to cuss her out/question the situation, it feels like your brain is in overdrive.

There, either hand leaning against the entrance to the ice rink, where the public are zipping around slowly, laughing, pink in the face, hand in hand, is Aemond. The familiar ribbons of platinum hair that have fallen from the hair tie, now slightly waved from the moisture in the air, sways with the breeze at his shoulders.

He has that slack smirk on his face, his tall broad form leaning on one side, ankles crossed with the low quality skates on, tapping the tip onto the ice.

Even in a heavy looking coat, his hair messily done up and pink cheeks from where the cold had been hitting them, he still looks every bit as handsome as you remembered him.

It makes your heart sigh to see him smile at you with that glimmer in his eye. Blinking slowly and admiringly at you.

"Hey, Princess", he greets warmly.

You almost drop the skates in your hands, the cold wisps of wind making you realise now that your eyes are all wet.

You're sure his name slips out before you crash into his arms, flinging yours around his neck.

He smells just like he used to.

And all those good memories just flood back at once, making that wetness behind your eyes form actual teardrops that line your cheeks.

You feel him laugh a little, one of his big hands on your back, "missed me then?", he prods in a smooth tone.

Fuck. His voice.

You didn't realise you'd missed hearing it so much.

When you pull away, to properly look at his face, he's still smiling, in that classic 'Aemond' way.

You're so engrossed with just looking at him, you nearly flinch when you feel his thumb wipe your under eye softly, wiping the moisture away.

His gaze softens, "don't cry. I don't look that bad, do I?"

Giving a watery laugh, you shake your head, "Just missed you".

His hand is still around your waist, inadvertently pulling you close to him so your hands hover over his chest, "Now, now, don't get all soft on me".

Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

"How?.."

Aemond gestures with his head, "El organised it".

"But…she's-"

"With her new boyfriend, don't worry. It's just us, princess" Aemond smiles, picking up the skates you'd dropped.

"For old time's sake?" He smiles.

And all you can do is blush and smile up at him like a little lovesick teenager.

It feels utterly strange to get back on the ice with Aemond again, even if it is a public one in the middle of a Christmas market. Even more so that he's not flinging you around in all sorts of twists and jumps.

But it feels nice.

Hand in gloved hand, you glide about together, catching up.

Alicent, you learn, has gotten back in touch with her long time friend. Aemond furrows his brows when he recollects that usually she's on facetime with a glass of Dornish Red in one hand and creasing up in front of her iPad at something her friend has said.

Aegon. Well, he's Aegon. Aemond's words, not yours. But he's working on getting a teaching qualification so that he can coach skating instead. It's nice that he was able to find something to use his skills for. Other than womanising.

"Had minor surgery on my nerves…they think it'll do the trick for some years, hopefully forever" he says as you weave on either foot.

"Well that's good" you smile, "does it feel better?"

He nods, "Oh and Hel has a new partner".

You look over quickly, one eyebrow poised, "And? Was I right?"

Smirking, Aemond has to resist the urge to roll his eye, "Yes, you were right".

"Yes! I knew it! I knew she was bi!"

You flush when some families around you look over when you shout it a bit too loud.

Oops.

Aemond tugs you to his side by your waist, humming in a kind of quiet laugh. A comfortable silence descends, just enjoying one another's company.

"I got in", he says suddenly. Stealing your attention again as your feet synchronise in short glides.

"Got in?"

"KLU".

"KLU? Oh my god-" you surge up, his face between your hands, but he doesn't complain, and kiss him fiercely, "Congratulations, Aemond. Oh my gosh, that's-"

You beam with pride.

And you can tell he genuinely loves it, by the way he blushes slightly.

"And" he goes on, his face close to yours, smirking at the confused look on your face.

"And?..."

He licks his lips before he speaks.

"I got a place" he adds, "and was wondering…if you…"

He trails off. And your face settles into realisation. Your heart hammering in your chest, like the engine of an old train.

He shrugs, clearing his throat, “You know, because we basically spent all our time together during the championships…”

You swallow thickly, "Really?..." it comes out weaker than you intended.

He nods, “It’s just out of town, not far from here really” he gestures in the vague direction with his head, the hand that’s resting at your waist dropping somewhat.

Blinking the emotion from your eyes, you swat his chest playfully, “Alright, Mr Moneybags”

He doesn’t laugh, like you expect him to, but he does smile at least. At this point, you seem to have come to a stop, your skates nestled between his to keep you both stable.

His darkened gaze just looks at your face. Studies it.

Like he’s opened a book and is reading through the pages.

When he looks at you like that, you can’t help but feel a flutter deep in your chest. It feels like he is drawing on you softly, like a thousand little butterflies have landed on your face, and are slowly opening and closing their wings.

You shudder when his warm, ungloved thumb brushes against your cheek.

“What?...” you smile at him affectionately.

He hums, a cloud escaping his lips as he speaks, “I’ve missed you”.

All you feel is the ledge of the ice rink press against your lower back and yours and Aemond’s noses brushing against one another as he presses his warm, comforting lips to yours.

He takes his time, moving languidly against your lips with a soft, wet beat, his tongue parting your lips as if he had been waiting all this time to taste you properly.

He tastes just as you remember.

A hint of cigarettes that he’s tried to hide with spearmint.

When you break away, you can’t ignore the warm feeling that blooms in your gut. In all the time you’d spent apart, you forgot how his lips felt on yours, how his hands felt on you, and how his mere presence around you made arousal creep up your thighs.

Gods, it’s been so long.

A blush creeps up your neck to your face, and Aemond smirks.

“Stop that”

Your lower lip catches between your teeth before you reply, “What?”

He leans against the ledge, caging you in with his own body.

“Blushing”

His voice lowers.

“Otherwise I’ll give you something to blush about”

The tension was thick as you and Aemond trudged through the Christmas Market after vacating the ice rink. You tried to lighten it by doing idle things like looking at the homemade ornaments on one stand, to sharing a cup of mulled wine between you, feeling the way the liquid warmed your insides.

That warmth was nothing compared to the way Aemond looked at you.

It reminded you of all those months ago, at the hotel, before the dynamic of your relationship changed. The way he used to stare at you from across the room, in what you wrongly thought at the time was out of disinterest and detest.

How wrong you were.

Shooting off a quick text to El, who you were sure was already back at the flat anyway, enjoying all the ‘assets’ of her new boyfriend, you walk hand in hand with Aemond back to his apartment.

He was very intent on showing you his new place. And your insides fluttered in anticipation, heat crawling up your neck.

His apartment was nice. Not that you expected any less. It was several floors high, showing a good view of King’s Landing and the bright, illuminated Christmas Market in the square below. Even from here, through the tall and wide windows of the living room, you could see the couples zipping around the ice rink, as you both were just a few moments before.

It had that ‘new apartment’ smell, but whenever you brushed past a coat of his or a blanket, it smelled like him. The walls were bare, but you were sure that Aemond would decorate when he was properly settled.

“Is Vhagar going to be coming here?” you ask, cupping the warm mug of tea in your hands as Aemond gives it to you.

“Maybe. She’s quite settled at Mum’s though so…I don’t want to make her anxious”.

You nod, “It’s a nice place”

“Will look even better when you’re here” he smirks, bending down to huff himself onto the sofa, “I’m sure you have better ideas than I do on interior design”.

You simply watch him for a moment, the warmth of his apartment making your previously cold hands feel prickly. Your fingers tap against the ceramic, the sound of Aemond’s playlist rumbling quietly from a speaker in a different room.

Placing the mug on the coffee table, Aemond exhales as your legs rest either side of his torso, moving to sit atop him with your hands stealing beneath his shirt, watching as his pink lips part for breath.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, princess” he murmurs against your lips as he leans up, his large hands squeezing your ass, moulding the flesh to his grip and eliciting a low gasp from your lips.

"Who says it's a game?" You whisper back, teasing him by brushing your lips against his, moving your hips on him and smiling when you feel him harden instantly.

" - fuck - "

You know he hates it, just hates it, when you smirk at how pent up and desperate he gets. But you just can't help it. Not only is it all too easy, it's just too fucking tempting too.

How easily such a large, overbearing and domineering man, can be subdued to a mewling, near-begging mess just by the soft movement of your hips.

"Baby, please -"

Reaching down between your bodies, Aemond outright moans when you palm his erection through his jeans, sitting against his thigh quite obviously. You tease your hand from the base to the tip, squeezing through the denim, seeing the way Aemond almost knits his brows together in barely-contained pleasure.

And any time he tries to reach up, to kiss you properly, you pull back, allowing him to chase you.

"Oh, fuck you-"

You yelp in surprise as Aemond lifts you, keeping your legs around his waist as he pushes his bedroom door open and dropping you onto his mattress. And before you even have a moment to sit up on your elbows, he's on you, kneeing your legs apart and caging you to the bed with his body.

"Can't fucking wait any longer - need you, baby-"

Fuck, even the way he says that has arousal pooling between your legs, the desire to push your thighs together strong, but weakened with Aemond's body keeping them apart.

He's so fast and rough, the way he unbuttons your jeans and pulls the denim down your legs, taking your underwear with it, that you feel for a moment he may have torn something.

He practically fucking growls when he he looks between you, his thumb teasing your clit, finally able to look upon you the way he's wanted to for months.

"Already soaked for me, aren't you?" He coos lowly, teasing your bud in sure, confident circles, before swatting your heat firmly with a wet smack, "such a good fucking slut for me".

You mewl, pressing your lips together, a flush enveloping your face at his words. It's been so long since you were intimate with him, it will take a few moments to get used to it again and fall into that rhythm.

That, and you can't help but flush in embarrassment at the realisation you've not shaved your legs, genuinely not having expected to see him today.

It doesn't seem like Aemond cares.

With a fist over the collar of his shirt, he pulls it over his head, showing his lean and well-muscled torso lit with a warm amber glow from the bedside lamp.

You jolt in surprise as his fingers pull you by your thighs further down the bed, a gasp flying past your lips as his tongue and teeth nip and kiss at the inside of them. The sensation bordering on pain and pleasure at the same time.

"You don't know how long I've waited to taste your sweet pussy, princess"

You have an idea, by the way Aemond mouths at the crease between your thigh and hip. But you don't say it out loud. The anticipation of his mouth so, so close without touching you where you need him most is agonising.

" - fuck - Aemond -"

Your back nearly arches off the bed as he flattens his tongue against your warmth, swirling around your clit first before diving into your folds to feast on you, his fingers digging into your flesh for leverage. The feeling of his grip into your flesh burns pleasantly as he tugs you towards him, your lips parting with hurried pants tumbling out.

Your legs tremble as his low moan vibrates through your core, electricity creeping up your spine as he laps at you with vigour, his sharp nose nudging at your clit as he moves side to side to eventually fuck you with his tongue.

For a split second, you worry if he can actually breathe.

But as your embarrassingly quick orgasm starts barrelling towards you without warning, it somehow gets pushed to the back of your mind, you reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, chanting his name as if it’s all you can say as he groans against your cunt.

His hands hold you down by your thighs, tugging you back to his mouth in soft micro-movements as you shake against him, head thrown back against the pillows with your breath hot in your chest, unable to catch it well enough to form any other sound than moaning unabashedly.

Aemond outright moans as you cum against his tongue, the lewd sound of him licking up everything that comes out makes a heat creep up your neck. But you can’t find it within yourself to be embarrassed. Not when he makes you feel like this.

You can feel the moisture on his face when he takes mercy, drawing his lips away to kiss and nip at the inside of your thighs again, giving one firm bite before he pulls away with a smirk on his face, no doubt happy at the mark he’s left behind.

Your eyes feel heavy as you lift your gaze to him, now perched on his knees as he pops the buttons of his jeans off, the veins on the back of his hand straining, making you feel somewhat lightheaded.

“ - can’t wait to fuck you again - you don’t know how long I’ve wanted be buried inside that pretty little pussy -”

You lick your lips as your mouth goes dry. He always manages to do that. Somehow turn you into a limp, mewling mess in no time at all.

Something you have in common, clearly.

With your heart beating erratically, body throbbing in the afterglow of your orgasm, that feeling is enhanced still when Aemond tugs at his length needily, his shoulders rising and falling with the desire to just stuff himself inside you as deep as he will go.

You can only watch in awe as his fingers wrap around himself, the tip ruddy and desperate, with arousal coating it with every slow and calculated fist. His stomach muscles clench and unclench uncontrollably, his chest muscles moving steadily with each deep breath.

It feels exciting, how utterly small you feel when he leans over you, once again grasping your legs to spread them before him. His long, thick fingers tease your slick folds, before he guides the fat head of his cock to your centre, watching with parted lips at the way your eyebrows furrow in both relief and pleasure as he stretches you around him slowly.

“ - ohfuck - ”, he moans lowly, sinking himself slowly into your warmth and basking in the closeness it offers, “ - fuck, baby, so tight for me -”

Being with him like this again is like sinking into a warm bath, with the rolls of steam batting at your face. And his words are so soft, they’re like dozens of little snowflakes settling on your face in a flurry. All cold and numb, and yet warm and fuzzy at the same time.

It’s completely instinctual, the way you turn your head, slightly embarrassed as Aemond holds either of your legs apart, his pelvis smacking against yours as he eases himself into a steady rhythm.

“ -aw, don’t tell me you’ve gone all shy on me -” he mocks, his eye glimmering with mischief as he looks down at you, “-where’s the needy, little slut I used to know, hm? -”

You gasp as Aemond pushes both hands down, pressing both of your legs towards your shoulders, bending at the knee so that he can kneel higher, using the new position with gravity to fuck down into you faster and rougher.

The new position has you pretzeled before him, completely unable to do anything but throw your head back against the pillows and turn bright red at the wanton, breathy moans that slip out.

“ -Aemond -”

“ - what’s wrong, baby? -” he coos, “ -is this too much for you? Hm? I know you’re more flexible than this -”

Fuck.

Each rough push of his length into you from this angle has the curved head of his cock brush against your sweet spot with devastating precision. With every thrust, the air seems to expel forcefully from your lungs, not helped in part by the fact that Aemond has your legs pressed hard against your ribs.

All you’re able to see through bleary eyes is the way he smirks down at you with his hair stuck to his tacky face, his chest heaving with hurried breath, and every now and then, his neck muscles straining as he tips his head back and groans loudly as you inadvertently squeeze his length when he bullies the end of you.

The air is charged, hot and humid. And you barely register the fact that music is still playing in another room, and that the curtains are pulled back. Though there’s no chance of anyone being able to see you both from how high his apartment is, it still makes your insides tighten that it’s happening so unabashedly with the city right below you.

His hand drifts down your thigh, watching as you squirm beneath him as he presses hard on your stomach, your eyes closing tightly at the feeling of him closing you around his length as it pistons roughly into you. He smiles slightly, almost as if he can feel how deep he reaches inside you.

“ -Oh fuck, baby - can fucking feel you gripping me -” he moans helplessly, leaning over, the sweat on his forehead slightly illuminated by the warm lamp’s light, “-does my girl like being a dirty little slut?”

You barely even register he’s speaking, everything sounding utterly muffled and just too much all at once. His low voice only serves to make that coil wind tighter in your gut, reacting to the way he never lets up his pace once.

You jolt slightly when he taps your cheek twice, a little rougher than you’d anticipated.

“ -I’m fucking talking to you -” he growls, moving his hand from your stomach up to bunch the shirt in his fist, exposing your pebbled nipples to the warmth of the room.

You nod helplessly, “Yes - yes -”

It’s all mindless babbling, and Aemond knows it as he grins, his eye flitting down to watch the way your breasts bounce as he fucks you.

“ -please, Aemond -”

“ -please what, hm? You want to cum, is that it? But you’re too fucked stupid to say it?”

As much as you hate to admit it, his words send a bolt of humiliation through you that does nothing but excite you, your core throbbing around his length with every calculated word he says.

"Aw, poor thing -" he jeers, "- I'm going to have fun with you-"

Wait what?

This isn't said 'fun'?

Oh shit.

Before that familiar coil can wind itself any tighter, Aemond pulls back, grunting as he manhandles your hips to turn you over and his palm cracking against your backside, smirking in victory at the mewl it gets out of you.

The skin there blooms with warmth, more so as Aemond’s tantalisingly hot skin presses against it once more, your lips parting in what can only described as a relieved moan as he slides into you again, his cockhead hitting the spongey end, filling you utterly.

"-Aemo-"

Smack.

"Not my fucking name, Princess. C'mon, you can do it" he purred, pressing his hand against your back, pushing against your spine and forcing your face against the sheets.

A choked moan almost slips out, with him tugging your hips up to him in such a curved position, his cockhead bullies your sweet spot, dragging his length along your sensitive walls, propelling you to an overwhelming orgasm.

"Go on - beg me for it or I won't let you cum-"

The idea of him denying you yet again when you were so close last time just seems utterly unbearable. So despite the humiliation rocking through your core with each harsh smack of his hips, despite the overwhelming heat of the room and most of all, despite your pride.

You do.

"Please - daddy - need it-"

If you could see him, you'd hate it.

Because he grins. Ear to fucking ear like he's wanted to hear it for months.

"Aren't you gonna beg me for permission to touch yourself?"

You suck in a breath, squealing muffled against the sheets as he gives another hard thrust. Clearly, despite appearances, on the verge himself.

"-can I - can I touch myself - please, daddy -"

"-fuck- baby, touch that little clit for me, yeah? - want to feel you cum-"

His voice is strained, pushing you with each thrust further and further against the sheets, your arms near giving out with the weight of him on you. With difficulty, your hand snakes between you and the mattress that constantly dips with how rough Aemond is being, and finds your bud, running the slickness that has collected over it, tying up your pleasure into two feelings.

Aemond’s lips part, staggered breaths the only thing coming out, as he feels your walls flutter around him, looking down at the way your bodies meet with a soft smack every time. You feel so warm and tight, gods he’s wanted to cum since since you started touching him through his jeans.

But now, pulling you by your hips to spear you onto his cock, he’s so so close.

Just wants to feel you first.

“-baby, you’re doing so well for me-” he breathes quickly, his gaze flitting briefly from where he’s pistoning in and out of you, to your sweat slick face, pressed against the sheets, biting your lips harshly as you pleasure yourself in tandem with Aemond’s movements.

As his hand slid down past your hips, his thumb tracing the bottom of your spine, you suck in a harsh breath when he softly grazes over your puckered hole, still fucking shallowly as if to tease you and him into teetering on the edge of a climax.

You're barely able to see behind you, pressed so hard into the sheets, but he looks good fucking you. His chest shines with perspiration, the chain dangling around his neck teasingly, and his abdominal muscles clenching and unclenching with restraint.

And then you see him smile.

"-oh? We've never done this before have we, princess?-"

Oh shit.

After all the exertion of your passion so far, your slick has easily made its way onto your thighs, so Aemond doesn't have to move much to drag some of it on his thumb and circle your hole with light, delicate motions, moistening the area.

Humiliation creeps up onto your face, eyes slipping shut. No guy before has ever really tried to do this. So this is uncharted territory. But despite the brief embarrassment, you have to admit that the feeling of Aemond ever so slightly pressing his thumb against you as he continues to thrust brutally into your cunt just feels new in the most amazing way.

His other hand still grabs the flesh of your ass, tugging you back to his cock in a frantic rhythm. The mewls coming out your mouth now sounding so unlike your own.

Aemond knows by the way your hips move up to meet his touch that you like it, but are too embarrassed to say.

"-how about it, hm? - you want me in both your pretty little fuckholes? -"

"-yes - yes, please daddy, I-"

Making sure his thumb is slick enough, your puckered hole also, he slides in slowly, using the palm of his hand to grasp whatever of your ass cheeks as he can.

You almost hear his choked moan.

"-fuck-, you're so tight here, princess - you gonna let me fuck it one day, hm? - you'd be so fucking good here-"

The batting of his cock against your upper walls has you very nearly sobbing outwardly, combined with the feeling of him in such a new place, pressing in, you'd forgotten you'd stopped pleasuring yourself. Completely embroiled in this feeling.

He chuckles darkly, crooking the digit ever so slightly, leaning over to press against your back "-you'd fucking let me as well, wouldn't you? -"

The curling of his other fingers on the flesh of your backside has him smiling at the sounds it emits from you.

“-did I say stop, hm? Keep touching yourself - cum for me-”

You know that as soon as you do it’s all over.

His voice, combined with all three feelings at once, tugging at that pleasurable spot inside you that has white, hot pleasure soaring through your bloodstream, has a long, choked moan filling the space between you. And you’re surprised to hear that the same sound slips past Aemond’s lips as well, the air of his breath batting against your neck as he tries to bury himself as deep inside you as he possibly can.

You’re trying to suck in breath without really realising it, the earth-shattering orgasm making your body go all rigid for a moment before you relax against the sheets, with the pleasant weight of him above you.

Everything feels warm. His bedroom right now feeling like a large blanket has enveloped you both. It seems a weird thing to think in the moment, with Aemond’s half naked body hunched over you, his cock twitching and pulsing, whimpering as he is still emptying himself inside of you and feeling the aftershocks through your fleshy walls.

All his micro-movements seem overly-sensitive. And when Aemond exhales, lifting himself off your back, lifting your lids to open your eyes feels like the most difficult thing you’ve ever done.

“-sorry-” he whispers cautiously as he pulls his softening cock from you, immediately feeling the warm rush of cum coating your inner thighs.

Warmth blossoms once again to your cheeks as he stays still, and you think he must be staring at the way he leaks from you, sighing in a sort of perverted admiration.

You don’t even have time to open your mouth before his thumb slips out your other hole, only to jolt in shock once it’s immediately replaced by his tongue. All those dulled out endorphins that were dissipating into your limbs feel like they all gather back, and you squeeze your thighs together, fisting the bedsheets so tightly they could’ve torn.

Both of his hands seem to find their home on each asscheek, spreading them so he can easily swirl his talented wet, muscle around your hole, fucking moaning as he does it. All your nerves ring semi-uncomfortably, overstimulation nipping at the edges of the pleasure.

“-fuck, Aemond, no no, please-” you plead, emitting a weary, exhausted laugh when he chuckles and pulls away, landing one softened smack against the flesh.

“-Mm- another time-”

Lethargy pulls at your body as you lay on your front, blinking slowly as you feel the mattress rise, pressing your lips together as Aemond disappears into the en-suite, tucking himself back into his jeans.

A moment later, he comes back with a warm washcloth, offering to clean you up. But you simply smile, pushing yourself to sit up, “I’m good”, you smile, with a flushed face, feeling slightly bashful after what you’d just done together.

One long shower together later, you lay in his bed, looking out at the city beneath, the cascade of brightly coloured lights littering the dark space between buildings. Aemond’s shirt easily reaches to your thighs, with nothing beneath, not having anticipated staying over anywhere today.

Aemond sighs calmly, his chin on the top of your head, pressed against your back, with one of his hands running through the tresses of your hair, every now and then stroking at your scalp, which has your eyes slipping shut at the pleasant feeling.

“Well, princess? Do you like it?” he asks, his voice all soft and tired.

You meet his lilac gaze, tilting your head slightly in question.

“The apartment”.

“It’s perfect”, you smile, reaching up his cheek and running the back of your fingers over it, the scar tissue feeling slightly different in texture over your skin, “you sure you want me to move in?”

He blinks slowly, a smile rising to his lips, his hand coming to yours and pressing a soft, tender kiss to your wrist. And though not directly sexual, it makes your belly do little backflips, feeling so intimate and captivating that warmth floods your skin through his lips.

“Of course, princess. I can't do this without you”.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard | @bellstwd | @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @mochi-rose | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics | @watercolorskyy

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998

[dejwrld]

— number 7 on paradis titans hockey team can get a little mean after he loses a game.

( cw ) ⸻ modern au, sports au, profanity, mean dom!jean in 4k hd ultra, female anatomy, her/she pronouns, afab, established relationship (reader and jean are married with a child), reader implied to black, creampie, impact play, oral ( f.receiving), slight spit kink, spanking, breeding kink, pet name usage (good girl, babygirl) he's just a lil salty he lost a game, i promise i ain't showing favoritism to najma lmfao, this fic was second place for the poll i posted week ago, wc: 2.1k, minors dni ! repost from old account!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀dedicated jean baby mother aka @honeybleed

When Jean lost a game, you always seemed to walk on eggshells. The nicely decorated home grows silent as a mouse when your family enters the mansion. Your son seemed to fall asleep during the long ride from the ice rink to the house, and you only tucked him in his bed after stripping him out of his clothes. Neatly folding up the hockey jersey with his father's number on it and placing it away, you placed a loving kiss on top of his sandy brown colored curls before exiting the room. You were sure to close the door behind you since you weren't sure how Jean would react due to losing the game.

When Jean's team lost, he grew quiet. A little too quiet. His interviews with ESPN and other sports outlets weren't as cheerful and confident. You could literally see the frustration and sadness in his light brown hues. The rides home are always silent, other than the questions your five-year-old would ask randomly. As a new wag (an obnoxious term for wives & girlfriends of sports players), you always ask the other partners how exactly they handle huge losses.

Eren's wife, Emilia would only shrug, mumbling about how Eren usually forgets about the loss after a day or two before he's back on the ice, perfecting any screw-ups he made during the game. Connie's girlfriend CJ would make a subtle joke about giving him head after the game to make him forget about the disappointing end of the hockey team's season.

You walked towards the master bedroom of your home, your body leaning against the door frame as you watched Jean tug off the Grey Nike sweatshirt he wore. He tossed it in the laundry hamper in the corner of your room, now only in a white wifebeater. His toned arm flexed with each movement he made as he shuffled around the room. Occasionally, his gold necklace with your initials and your son's initials moved with each quick motion he made.

"Do you want to talk about it? I know it was such an important game," Your tone was soft-spoken and came out as if you were whispering.

"Strip." was the only thing Jean uttered as he was undoing the string on his Nike jogger pants.

Your lip gloss-covered lips parted to speak, but in the back of your mind, you were just thinking about making Jean happy. He was going through some wild emotions at the moment, and who were you to object against them. They lost the opportunity to compete for the Stanley Cup, so you knew the man in front of you was seeing complete red at the moment.

"Keep my jersey on, though. Everything else off." He huffed.

You stepped further inside the room, your back backing into the door to close it so you wouldn't wake up your son. Your fingers begin to unbutton the jeans you were wearing, slowly tugging them off your smooth legs. Soon, your panties joined them as Jean's index finger motioned for you to come here. With each step you took, you could feel the cool breeze in your room hit your bare bottom, sending a chill down your spine.

When you were face to face with Jean, he didn't say much. However, you could feel how hot he was. How frustrated he was. One harsh push on your king-sized bed caused your lips to let out a gasp. Your body hit the bed like a fragile little doll Jean wanted to play with. He's grabbing a hold of your ankle that was decorated with the gold anklet with his name on it with a cursive font. His lips placed soft kisses on your ankle, causing you to squirm under his firm touch. You expected him to treat you like a fragile rag doll that had just been snitched up. But boy, was you wrong. In one motion, he had turned your body around so that you were lying on your stomach, mumbling about how he needed you so badly.

"Be a pretty wife and get on all fours, m'kay," He said lowly.

You did what you were told, getting on all fours. The oversized jersey that formally belonged to Jean raised just a bit to be able to see the cup of your ass. A low yelp tumbled out your mouth when you felt Jean's large hands slap at the flesh of your ass before you could feel his hand massage the stinging flesh. A sharp hiss came out of you when you felt another slap on the opposite cheek; Jean once again repeated the process of massaging your ass cheeks. He's teasingly letting a coo tumble off his lips as you can only stutter out his name like a broken record.

"Just want to taste you real quick," His words were soft yet intimidating. He angled your body provocatively so you felt like such a filthy woman. "Just stay like that for me, please," he says before his callous fingertips are traced alongside your puffy lips. The teasing action caused your skin to be littered with goosebumps.

Once again, you desperately coughed up a yelp when you felt him slap at your throbbing cunt that was aching for his attention. The similar motion he did with your asscheek, Jean's multimillion-dollar massage at your pussy. This time, your wetness coated his fingers ever so negligibly. "You like it when I do that, huh?" He asked.

He didn't wait for you to respond before kneeling to taste you. The flat of his tongue collided with your puffy lips to lick up your juices formed just by his spankings. A weak whimper came out of you as you seemed to relax in his touch as he was eating you out. When Jean wanted to taste, he wanted to taste every fiber of you. Practically burying his face in the messiness between your thighs caused your toes to curl.

"Jean." You moaned out as you felt him glide his tongue up your slit. The lewd sound of him slurping up the mess he was making bounced off the bedroom walls. You could feel the sharpness of his nose poking you from the back; the man practically was devouring you at the moment. You were so close to breaking the perfect arch, but you knew what consequences were to come.

"Fuck." You moaned before you reached out, clawing at his sandy brown hair. Your fingers grabbed his hair as you rocked backward upon his kitten licks. Your orgasm was right there; you were so close to the finish line while your knees were growing hazy.

But Jean soon pulled away, letting your body fall limp like a deflated balloon that's lost all its air. Your poor cunt felt like it was pulsing, your orgasm was snatched away from you, and the lump of pleasurable despair disappeared.

"I can't have you cummin' just yet, baby girl," Jean commented. The little facial hair he had was stained with your juices. His upper lip lingered with your scent, and his tongue tasted like you. Maybe that made the man in a complete trance all over again.

His grey sweatpants grew tight at the crotch area. His dick was screaming to be released from the tight compress of his sweats and boxers. Jean quickly pushed down his sweats and stepped out of them like an over-enthusiastic virgin that was about to get a spliff of pussy for the first time. His blood was fuming, and he was still a bit frustrated by the loss. Especially considering the number of penalties he racked up during the game. His cock bulged in the black-colored Ethika boxers (another sponsorship he received for singing a multimillion-dollar contract) before he tugged them down also. His thick cock tapped at his toned torso when his boxers came down also.

Once again, he's grabbing onto you like a doll, dragging your whithering body toward the end of the bed. His hand firmly pushed your lower back to ensure your arch was perfect. It was a wonderful sight to see his beautiful wife completely exposed like this to him. A lovely ass up face-down position just so he can have his way with him.

You were anticipating for Jean to shove his cock inside you. Despite it being the same dick you've ridden, sucked, choked on, and the list goes on, you still found yourself chewing your lower lip off at adjusting to his girth. He was a grower for sure, with a slight curve that could kiss at that spot that caused your pedicures toes to curl. Your favorite part of his dick was his tip. It was a splendid sight when you would climb under the covers to suck him off when he complained about morning wood. It was a nice mushroom shape with a slit that gushed out so much cum when he wanted to.

"You know if you relax. You'll get used to it quicker." Jean suggested. With his slender digits climbing up the jersey, you had on to undo the bra you were wearing.

With quickness, you're removing your bra tossing it to the side with ease. Your hips bucking to receive any form of friction between Jean and yourself, but you could only feel his tip tap at your sopping entrance. "Don't be so fuckin' rude, and wait," Jean uttered as he grabbed a hold of his cock. He rubbed his tip at your entrance. Teasing you bit by bit before he's pooling all of the spit in his mouth and letting it drop down on his cock. His hand stroked his dick quickly before he once again was poking at your entrance.

"You want to make me feel better after that horrible game, right?" Jean questioned.

You only nodded as you were on all fours, your fingers grasping at the sheets below you before your mouth gasped apart, feeling him stretch you out. He didn't even wait until you adjusted to his huge size before he was pushing himself inside you like a madman. His hands grasping at your asscheeks just to feel upon you a little more. His thrusts weren't the usual slow and passionate filled; they were harsher. He was genuinely fucking you like he hated you. It was your fault that the team was two points short of going to the play for the Stanley Cup. You could only let out poor pathetic moans, moaning out for Jean.

"That's a good fuckin' girl; you're taking my dick so well," Jean uttered as his hips bucked forward into the plush of your ass. His eyes glowed excitedly at the sight of your pretty pussy, swallowing him with each thrust. The mixture of your wetness and the spit he coated on his coat was imprinted on your thighs like a nasty masterpiece.

He had one hand holding your back down while the other was grasping at the hockey jersey with his last name on it. He gripped the jersey severely to have some form of control over his brass thrusts. Ignoring your whimpers for him to slow down, or you would cum.

"Don't cum." Jean uttered out.

His words were more like a command, a dangerous warning you wanted to poke at until he exploded.

"Please Jean..." You whined into the pillow, which at this point was stained with your own drool and tears.

"What did I say, hm?" He questioned. His right hand slapped at your ass cheek causing you to let out a whine.

"Don't...cum," You hiccupped between moans.

Jean would only hum in agreement. His hips irrationally bottomed inside your dripping cunt before he pinned your arms behind your back. His tight grip on you caused you to chew at your lip as if it were some chew toy. "We'll cum together like it's supposed to fuckin' be," He commented.

You felt so lightheaded at the intense amount of stimulation upon your body. Your limbs felt like they were screaming for you to relax, and the burning sensation that was bubbling in the pit of your stomach was ready to burst.

Jean's hold he had on your folded arms only grew tight with each shove forward into your pussy. He could feel his balls grow heavy each time he tapped at that one spot that caused your eyes to cruise in the back of your head. Jean's eyes were shifted closed as he was so pussy drunk, the harsh groan that grumbled off the back of his neck caused his Adam's apple to move. His thick white cum filled you up to the brim as you moaned through the sensation. Jean brought the ends of his wifebeater up to his teeth, nibbling at the ends as he rocked you on his cock slowly. He could feel your pussy pulsing around his cock, milking him of every droplet of his cum. His brown hues practically glistened at the creamy sight of a white ring around his cock with each slow thrust.

When he pulled out slowly, letting the hold he had on you go and watching you collapse breathlessly on your stomach. His fingers combed through his hair, which seemed to stick to his forehead due to the intense workout.

"I feel much better now, baby, thank you."

[kinktae]

most undesirable || (M)

Spring has sprung and engagement is on the forefront of all of Regency London's young ladies' minds. All except for yours, of course– the Queen's niece who a certain notorious author has named the Ton's most undesirable.

pairing: lord!jungkook x lady!reader

word count: 5k

genre: BRIDGERTON AU, regency era, angst, eventual smut

warnings: cocaine usage (not oc or jk), oc has dead parents

A/N: this fic was commissioned by the lovely Baby. As per her request, it features me and our beloved izzy! please do let me know if you would like a part two, i have big plans for whats to come next ;)

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

PART ONE **UNEDITED**

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A word of profanity left your painted lips as the outsoles of your lace-up boots danced across the limestone floor of the palace, making haste but not in a manner that was unbecoming, your head held high despite your mood running low.

You reached the door of Her Majesty's room with purpose, hands fiddling with the satin of your dress to make sure it covered your shoes. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate the influx of garments your dear aunt had gifted you upon your arrival. Still, the heels Her Majesty had deemed in style this season were particularly uncomfortable. She would no doubt grow sour to see you parading in countryside shoes in her home.

"Your highness." One of the oldest guards snickered, his eyes flicking towards you knowingly as he and another guard moved to open the grand doors to their Queen's private quarters.

You crunched your nose, "Shh." 

Of course, the guards had already read the paper… Rotten gossips.

Willing a smile onto your face, you were let into the room. Your aunt sat at her sofa, the furniture floral in design, its fabric dyed a luxurious red. Between her hands were the source of your dismay, the newest Lady Whistledown papers fresh off the press. 

You hadn't had the pleasure of reading this week's issue personally, but word traveled outrageously fast in the palace; both maids and guards suckers for a good scandal. You knew quite intimately the matter of its content as you were the matter of its content.

"Ah. Niece. There you are.” The Queen called you over, setting the paper down beside her unceremoniously.

You walked closer stiffly, "Aunt Charlotte, you wished to speak to me?"

"You know I adore you, don't you? You're like a breath of fresh air in this miserably dull palace."

Your once tense shoulders relaxed instantly, taking comfort in knowing she hadn't called you in for a scolding.

"It is you that lights up every room you enter, your Majesty." You bowed your head slightly, knowing well that flattery was your best line of defense should the tides change against you. 

"I do, don't I?" She agreed with a grin, before it fell off her face suddenly. "Sorry– whatever were we talking about?"

"Um–"

"Ah, yes! Well, there's no point mincing words. I'm sure you've seen it by now. I mean, can you believe it? That sorrowful sow Whistledown attempting to soil the reputation of my bloodline with such a frivolous title as… as…" She snapped her fingers, forgetting the word she was looking for.

The sound echoed throughout her enormous chambers, currently barren as your aunt was in the process of renovating.

"Ice Princess." You reminded her quietly. She tutted her tongue in recognition.

"How tactless, how tasteless! It is me who sets reputations. Not her. No, no, this simply won't do."

You watched in silence as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Remind me, darling. Why weren't you at the Danbury Ball?"

You shifted, thinking back on the excuse you had given her, "I was… ill."

It was a lie, of course. You had been feeling quite well actually when notice of the ball came 'round. But could anyone fault you? Ballrooms and gowns weren't exactly your area of expertise.

Growing up, your mother and your aunt couldn't be more different; you often heard stories of the two sisters butting heads from your grandfather. One sister went on to marry the king of England, the other a humble traveling merchant. One stood throne in England; the other lived simply in France's countryside. Despite their differences, it was no secret that your aunt loved her older sister dearly, writing to her often in hopes of convincing her to come move to England. When she learned that your mother was with child, she even went as far as to purchase land for her sister and soon to be niece.

But your mother was every bit as stubborn as she was kind. She loved her husband and the life she had built with him, staying by his side until she passed last year. Your poor father was grief-stricken; by eight months, the stress on his heart had become too much, dying nearly a year after your mother.

It was your aunt who had reached out first, offering her deepest condolences and, far more noticeably, all the money you could ever need and your very own suite in the palace.

You weren't exactly sure why you had agreed to such a lucrative proposal. You, much like your mother, adored the countryside and the small town you grew up in. And perhaps that was why you agreed, not to move in, but instead to visit. She was family, after all, something you didn't have very much of left, though you have since come to know of a cousin Friedrich, recently married to an Edwina Sharma that your aunt raved on and on about.

In the week you had been here, you had come to know far more about British aristocracy than you ever wished to know, entirely out of your element amidst the corsets and personal maids. Only recently had you managed to lower your number of attending maids to two, a far cry from the original seven you were greeted with.

You did your best to fit in, but you were no fool. You knew nothing of soireés– or how to dance for that matter, so the moment your aunt spoke of a ball, you knew you had to conjure up some excuse as to why you woefully must decline.

"Exactly! For heaven's sake, you were ill. How dare Whistledown suggest otherwise." She gestured at the staff in the room as though they were her audience.

The sound of the Queen's chamber doors being thrown stole the attention of everyone in the room. Unsurprising to you, two young maids barreling in, tripping on each other.

"S-Sorry, Your Majesty!" The blonde stuttered out.

The brunette nodded in agreement, "Our apologies, Your Majesty. We didn't know where her highness had gone–"

"–We came running as soon as we realized she had snuck off."

Isabella and Roselia. Of course. Your two personal maids. You had only just managed to shake them from your trail when you heard the news that the Queen had sent for you. You should have figured they'd inevitably catch up with you.

They were pleasant enough company, the duo were quite funny, actually, but the constant shadowing was something you learned you rather detested. You understood they were under strict orders by the Queen to ensure your every need was attended to but still… surely even nobility understood the concept of wanting to have a moment alone?

"Oh— Are we interrupting something?" Roselia's cheeks went pink, eyes running over the room as she took note of the Queen's pursed mouth. "We'll just… we can wait outside actually."

"Outside, right! We'll be just outside." Isabella chimed in, heading bowing as the brunette maid yanked her back and out of the room.

"Sorry for the intrusion!"

You stifled a snicker, watching as the young maids slipped back out of the Queen's chambers, shutting the grand doors as they went. Your aunt merely rolled her eyes at the bumbling maids.

Suddenly, her Majesty sniffed, and it was as if a switch had been flipped. All her maids ran towards her, offering handkerchiefs as if their life depended on it. You nearly laughed at such a ridiculous display of servitude, but seeing as you had spent well over a week in the palace, you had become accustomed to such theatrics.

"Whistledown is right about one thing, you know." Queen Charlotte said as her nose was blotted at. "Everyone needs to meet you. And meet you they shall."

In surprise, you pulled your eyes from the doting maids, "They shall?"

"Certainly. We shall have a ball. Here in the palace, of course."

You felt your stomach plummet into your leather-bound boots, your aunt's words echoing.

"All of London's marriage-minded ladies and lords are to be invited. We'll show Whistledown just how splendid you are. Oh! How glorious if you were to find a suitor! That certainly would put to rest that frozen title once and for all."

Just faintly, you could make out the sound of white noise buzzing, mixing with the words the Queen spoke. Anxiety flooded you, deafening your brain's attempts to self-soothe and rationalize that this wasn't the catastrophe you felt it was.

"Aunt Charlotte," you tried to swallow, but your mouth felt stripped of all moisture, "I… I'm not sure if that is wise–"

But it was as if she hadn't heard you, rambling on as if you hadn't objected, "I'll be arranging for etiquette and dance lessons since my beloved sister undoubtedly failed to do the same for you. Are you free this afternoon, darling?"

You stood for a moment, no doubt looking foolish as you struggled to get your words out, "I… I suppose I am…"

"Dear, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Are you feeling well?" The Queen cocked her head at you, eyes sizing you up with concern.

"I… I am not feeling my best." You admitted.

"That's the second time now. Growing up in the countryside— all that sun and dirt— it's made you weak of constitution. Hm. Very well. We'll wait until you're feeling better. In the meantime, I will begin planning!"

You averted your eyes politely as she bent over suddenly, inhaling a white powder off her tea tray through a nostril. She sat up with an exhale, eyes fluttering open with a smile.

"Oh, how I love having you come to stay in the palace for a change. I'm terribly bored these days, you know." She sighed. "Did you care to assist me with planning?"

Despite how you felt seconds from unearthing your already digested lunch, you managed an apologetic smile, "I'm not sure I'd be of much help. I'm afraid I've never hosted a party before."

"Yes, my dearly departed sister never cared much for such things, did she? Such a shame she raised you out of the aristocracy." She said.

A furrow found your brow.

"You're wrong, you know." You disagreed before you could think to hold your tongue. And just like that you had become a magnet, all eyes in the room snapping towards your frame.

"Oh? About?" The Queen offered you a pointed look.

"About the way I was raised. I wouldn't change a thing about it. My mother didn't fail me… she loved me. I had a mother and father who loved me. That was worth more to me than any new dress could ever." You said, gesturing to the gifted garment you adorned today, with perhaps a touch more spite than you should've.

Of two things those in the palace knew to be true. One— Her Majesty was not wrong. Ever. Her opinion was the first to seek and the only to matter. Anyone was someone because she said so, whether explicitly or subtly.

And two— her love for her niece ran deeper than even she anticipated, as watching you stand before her defiantly didn't fill her with rage as the staff in the room assumed, but rather with melancholy. 

You looked like your mother just then. It seemed you reminded her of her sister more and more as the days rolled by.

"Your mother would be pleased to hear that." She merely replied, wondering if her sister might be looking down on you both at this moment. At her words, your entire demeanor softened.

"Very well. Off you go." Your Queen sniffed, a handkerchief at her nose within seconds.

Bowing, you moved to exit the room.

"And niece," she called one last time, causing you to turn around, "must you wear such unsightly footwear under your dress?"

You felt your face grow hot, muttering a quiet apology before exiting the room altogether.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Chin up, darling." Your aunt reminded you.

You followed her instructions coolly, hoping you didn't look nearly as nervous as you felt.

It was undoubtedly a soirée for the books; every square inch of the ballroom was gilded in gold, the chandeliers' gleam diffusing luxuriously as it bounced around the room.

Eligible men and women of all shapes and sizes had come from far and wide, donned in their absolute best; every possible hue of pink, blue and purple on display for Her Majesty. The ballroom looked akin to the royal grounds, you thought; the cool-toned dresses reminding you of upside-down bellflowers, floating across the marble floor in a synchronized dance.

Flocks of the most noticeable families and town figures had swarmed their way to the royal estate, drowning themselves in champagne as corseted woman fluttered their eyes at the Ton's lords.

But despite their poised smiles, neither woman nor man spared you more than a cautious glance and courteous bow. As the hours ticked by, you couldn't help but feel increasingly uneasy. Was it fear of Her Majesty sitting beside you that kept them away from you? Or was it the less than auspicious picture a certain faceless author had painted for them about you?

"It's rather hot in here, wouldn't you say?" The Queen spoke to you suddenly, looking larger than life from her magnificent throne.

"I suppose." You agreed absentmindedly, far too occupied with how a group of ladies' eyes flickered your way.

She continued, "Perhaps some champagne will cool you down. Why don't you fetch yourself a glass, dear?"

The meaning behind her words was clear. Go. Socialize.

"A splendid idea." You concurred.

Granting yourself one final shaky breath, you straightened up, walking towards the table where drinks were being freshly poured.

"What shall it be, my lady?" A servant greeted you politely as you reached it.

"A glass of champagne, please." You smiled, grateful for a friendly face, perhaps the first of the night.

The servant nodded, moving to open a new bottle.

"She doesn't even hold a title, you know. That Ice Princess."

You blinked, growing still as your ears caught wind of a conversation between party goers not far from you.

"But she's the Queen's niece?"

A sinking feeling washed over you, the kind that made all the other noise in the room disappear. You flirted briefly with abandoning your spot in the room altogether, but the bubbling pour of golden liquid into a glass kept you still. You thanked the servant with a halfhearted smile.

Bringing the glass to your mouth, you turned an ear to the three gossiping ladies, careful to avoid their gaze.

"Word has it her mother married out of the aristocracy." One of them babbled, pulling noises of disbelief from the others.

"Pity. Though, I suppose that explains the appalling way she walks in heels. You'd think she grew hooves from all that time she spent in the countryside." Another prattled. Stifled giggles rang around the group like they were all in some sort of secret, one that wasn't theirs to know. "Can you believe she thinks herself better than us?"

"One more glass, if you please." You asked the same servant, quickly making your way back to the Queen, now with a glass in either hand.

You approached her wordlessly, merely offering her a glass.

"Ah." She accepted the drink eagerly, and for a moment, there was silence, the two family members enjoying the cool velvety acidity of what was no doubt costly champagne.

"It appears the Ton thinks poorly of me." You blurted out.

You felt rather foolish telling this to your aunt. It wasn't as if you really cared what three cankerous aristocrats thought of you. But who else were you to tell? You knew no one.

Your Aunt Charlotte furrowed her delicately painted brow, "Darling, it'll do you well to realize that this Ton doesn't think. They merely reiterate what they've been told. They don't know you. Never mind what they think they know."

But her words went in one ear and out the other, merely background noise to the way you suddenly felt all eyes on you.

And suddenly, your dress was too tight, the ballroom too small. You felt your breath grow shallow, a sure sign of panic. How may others deemed you the subject of gossip tonight? What else were they saying about you?

"I think I should step out for a moment." You muttered.

"Take your maids with you!"

You were halfway across the room before you could even think to register your aunt's reply. Blinking away your tears, you pushed yourself through the crowd, muttering absentminded apologies as partygoers scoffed in protest.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

How small you felt sitting alone in the palace's rose gardens. You wept on a stone bench, wishing ever so badly that your mother was here, looking back with sorrow at how she used to pull you into her lap whenever you were upset. How she used to wrap her arms around you, and everything seemed better, if even for a moment.

How you missed her. How you missed your father. How you missed your life away from this shining, hollow palace.

But they were gone, and the simple life that awaited you back home was gone. Aunt Charlotte was all the family you had left. Without your parents, your home was gone.

"Oh! My lady… forgive me!"

A soft voice caused you to gasp, turning to face the man that had walked in on your self wallowing.

You were up on your feet in seconds, wiping away at your face. 

"No… no, it is I who should apologize! I'm sorry you had to see me like that." Your cheeks burned.

"See you like what?" The mysterious raven-haired stranger pressed, a note of cheekiness to his tone. "Human? Heaven forbid."

You laughed gently, sniffling away your shame. You knew at once he was no threat to you.

The young lord wasn't exactly sure what had led him to the palace gardens; most of the event seemed to be taking place indoors as the night nipped and chilled unforgivingly. Still, a few stray bodies mingled underneath the string of lights that the palace servants had strung up. He had briefly greeted them, passing through the clouds of cigar smoke and small talk before bounding down limestone stairs.

He had tucked his hands into his pants pockets, sighing as the night's festivities grew quieter the further he slipped away, the crunch of wet grass kissing the underneath of his dress shoes. His mind was heavy with thoughts, hardly noticing where his legs had taken him.

It was the sound of your cries that pulled him from his thoughts and jerked him back to his senses.

He was in the Queen's rose garden; he immediately recognized the vibrant flowers and tall bushes. What he failed to recognize, however, was the weeping girl sitting on a stone bench, a look of embarrassment written plainly on her pretty face as she realized she was not alone.

He was quite handsome, you noticed despite your humiliation. He was younger than most of the lords inside, his face still featuring a certain softness despite his sharp features. His gaze was inherently kind, his warm brown eyes all but beckoning you to lower your guards.

"Lord Jeon.” He introduced himself with a bow, eyes never leaving yours. "Forgive me if I frightened you, my lady. I shall return at once and grant you your privacy."

You sank back down onto the bench, pulling the shawl wrapped around your shoulders closer. Your dress was beautiful— you were beautiful… puffy eyes, smeared makeup and all. He couldn't imagine why a lady like yourself would be weeping in the rose gardens unattended.

"It's alright. I supposed I'm not the only introvert at this party tonight. The garden is big enough for the two of us."

Lord Jeon shrugged, "A bit of fresh air is good for the soul."

You watched cautiously as he walked closer, sitting beside you on the opposite side of the bench. 

"You know… I've been told I'm a decent listener." He said suddenly, brown eyes admiring the roses surrounding you.

You blinked, "Is that so?"

"Well… not explicitly. But I've got two ears, so I'd say I do alright." He teased.

You smiled softly, contemplating how much to reveal to this stranger.

"It's… I suppose I'm just a bit out of my element here." 

"You?" He seemed surprised, a slight chuckle of disbelief accompanying his question.

"You laughed." You raised a brow.

He bit down on his lower lip as if contemplating his following words.

"Well, it's just… I can't imagine someone like you having trouble at these events." He confessed.

For a moment, you wondered what he could mean. Looking down at your lap, you realized he must be referring to your extraordinarily fanciful garments.

"Ah. These clothes were a gift, and this hair— well, none of this is me. Not really. Truly, I don't know why I came." You sighed. 

He nodded, "Beginning to feel that way myself, actually. Most lose interest when they hear my name. I'm a bit of a nobody, it seems."

"Funny. It would appear you and I have the opposite problem." You nearly laughed.

"Uptown girl, are you?"

"I'm afraid I've got a bit of a reputation. And no one cares to know whether it's true or not." You said.

He let out a sigh.

"Terrible soirée full of terrible people. I can't say that doesn't happen here often."

You let his words hang in the night's cold air, your fingers intertwining themselves across your lap.

"Is that all?"

Your head turned to face him, growing warm to find him already looking at you.

"Forgive me, it's just," he continued, "your sadness… it feels heavier than you're letting on."

He watched as your body language changed, suddenly tense as if you had built your walls back up.

He was back up on his feet within seconds, his shoes coming into view by the bottom of your dress as he stood in front of you.

Swallowing down a sob, you allowed yourself to look up at him.

"May I?" He asked, extending a hand out as if wanting yours.

Hesitantly, you gave it to him, assuming you would be ushered back onto your feet. To your surprise, however, he merely flipped your hand over, your palm now facing the night sky.

Your eyes widened as he took a finger and traced a line onto your palm. 

No. Not A line. A letter.

L-O-V-E-R-? 

He wrote into your palm. You stared at your hand, skin still buzzing faintly from where his finger had run across.

His mother used to do such a thing when he was younger and much angrier, often struggling to say the words when something troubled him. He only hoped it would work for you the way he had for him.

Frowning, you shook your head. He wrote once again.

F-A-M-I-L-Y-?

A tear fell from you as if instinctively. You nodded your head, confirming his suspicions. Spurred on by his touch, you moved to grab his hand, flipping it upside down as he had done to yours.

L-O-N-E-L-Y you wrote.

"… I just wish I had a little bit longer with them." You found yourself saying once you had finished.

"No time is enough when it comes to the people you love." He spoke with heart as if referring to his own personal melancholy.

Another tear fell from your eyes as his thumb ran over your palm, not to spell anything but to offer his condolences.

"No. I suppose not." You sniffed, a shiver running over you as a crisp breeze passed the two of you.

He wrote into your palm again.

C-O-L-D-?

You let out a laugh, shrugging dismissively.

"Here." Lord Jeon suddenly peeled his suit jacket off his shoulders. You froze, stunned silent as he gently draped it over your shoulders, a gentle smile on his face.

Your chest tightened, moved by the gesture of kindness. But before you could think to thank him, his warm fingers were at your palm once more.

F-R-I-E-N-D-?

His smile tugged at your heartstrings. You wondered how anyone inside could possibly look down on him. You didn't need to know his name to see that he was kind, a worthy suitor for any marriage-minded aristocrat.

F-R-I-E-N-D. You wrote back.

Happy was the girl who sat on the cement bench of the palace's rose garden, wrapped up warm under the jacket of the first person to show you genuine, unconditional kindness since arriving weeks ago.

The two strangers sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the quiet of company. Neither of you knew the other, but there was comfort in the silhouettes of the adjacent shadows at your feet, knowing that neither had ill intent towards the other.

"Do you ever wonder what it might be like to live in a palace?"

You fell stiff, mute as you turned towards him, watching how he looked over at the illuminated estate. 

"Lonely."

"You think?" He pondered.

"I'm not fond of big empty rooms. They tend to make me feel small." You explained quietly.

"Well, should I ever have a palace, there would be no empty rooms. Every room with music and the sound of children's laughter. I would decree it so."

"Children? And where do you figure you might obtain those?" You chuckled.

"Well, they'd be mine, of course." He grinned lopsidedly.

You grinned back at him. "Then the happiest of children they would be."

You suppose the young lord reminded you somewhat of a child. He was a man by every definition of the word, standing tall and proud, but there was something about the way his large eyes took in the palace that was decidedly childlike. Eyes wide and glimmering with awe.

You watched contently as he suddenly noticed the silver plated container that sat by the leg of the bench; an unopened bottle of champagne sat neatly in a bed of ice, several glasses along side it.

Your dear aunt thought of everything when it came to party planning, you were coming to find out.

"Shall we?" He smirked suggestively.

"I don't see why not." You laughed.

The two of you giggled as he attempted to open the bottle, champagne spilling everywhere. He tried to pour you a glass neatly, but your new friend had no future in bartending, champagne spilling over the glass' edge and onto your fingers.

Sticky but smiling, you brought your glass up, mirroring him.

"A toast." He decided, his own glass now only half full from his carelessness.

"To?" You questioned.

He contemplated for a moment, meeting your inquisitive eyes innocently. A boyish smile broke out across his face.

"To us, of course. Tonight's most undesirables." He declared, making you chuckle.

But before you could touch glasses…

"Your highness!"

Your eyes went wide, your stomach dropping as a certain blond maid came scrambling into the garden.

"Isabella! Please! Just 'my lady' will do." Heat rocketed up your neck, ears no doubt hot to the touch. 

Her hands fell to her knees, clearly out of breath from running around the palace grounds, undoubtedly in search of you.

"My lady, I should advise you to return to the party. Her Majesty the Queen has someone she wants you to meet." She cautioned.

You cursed internally.

"Of course, she does. Give me just a moment then. I'll be over shortly."

The young maid's eyes flickered over to Lord Jeon, cheeks rosy.

"But your highness—"

"Thank you, Isabella." You cut her off curtly. 

The young maid gave you two one more final look over before nodded, pardoning herself with a curtesy.

Hesitantly, you turned back towards Lord Jeon, unsure what to make of the look of disbelief clearly written across his face.

Awkwardly, you brought your glass to your mouth, taking a cautious sip.

"Your highness? You're a princess?" He gawked, eyes still wide. 

"No!" You quipped. "Not… technically?"

The young lord merely blinked at you, his doe eyes telling you everything his mouth wasn't.

You were rambling before you could help yourself.

"M-My mother is the Queen's sister. Technically speaking, she held the title of 'Princess.' Though, I suppose if my mother were born a man then, yes, that would make me a princess— titles are patriarchal in nature, it's all… very complicated, really…" 

You felt like you couldn't take in a deep enough breath, the chilly air now burning your lungs.

"So… not a princess. Just… daughter of a princess." He reiterated, clearly stunned.

You felt a frown form on your face, all your etiquette instructor's reminders of poise and manners slipping from your mind.

"I am the Queen's niece. We shall leave it at that."

The handsome lord had the most fascinated look on his face, eyes locked on the way your jaw twitched, mouth shut rigidly to hold back the slew of word vomit you instinctively felt compelled to let out.

The way he held your eyes – the intensity behind his dark orbs – made you uneasy yet engrossed you all the same.

You bit down on the side of your cheek, "Are you upset that I didn't tell you?"

He shook his head suddenly as if trying to shake off his shock.

"No. I'm not."

"Are you… disappointed?" You grimaced.

You hadn't the faintest clue as to what was running around in his handsome head.

"Disappointed?" He cocked his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what the hell you're thinking right now, and it's frankly unnerving." You frowned.

The raven-haired man let out a noise that toed the line between amusement and disbelief. 

"I think you owe me a toast… your highness." He teased.

Rolling your eyes, you failed to fight back a smile, bringing your champagne glass up to meet his, his smirk assuring you that whoever your aunt wished you to meet could wait a moment or two. 

[mapofthesea]

defenseman!taehyung x social media manager!fem!reader

hockey!au

genre: fluff, slight angst, smut

summary: The home opener of hockey season is crazy for everyone, but when star defensemen Kim Taehyung takes a specific interest in you, who are you to turn him down? 

warnings: sports things, taehyung being a flirt but also very sweet, reader trying to convince herself that she isn't allowed to like him, very minor hockey related violence, swearing, small amount of alcohol consumption (no one gets drunk!), feelings admissions. Specific smut warnings: dom!tae, sub!reader, public sex, bathroom sex (they're alone in there), mirror sex, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (be better than them), begging, he comes on her back lol, some spit, praise, aftercare.

an: I am a whore for both hockey and bangtan, so here we are. As always this wasn’t proofread or edited so there might be typos! Also happy birthday Tae. love u so much king

The sound of fans funneling into the arena buzzes through the air, making you more than grateful for the direct feed of your coworkers’ voices in your ear. 

“Team intros start in 15, do we have time for some pre-game content before that, Y/N?” 

Your mind reels at the idea of subjecting yourself to the locker room so shortly before the game, but you’re nothing if not professional. The concrete halls echo with sound, the low bass of the pre-game playlist rumbling under the soles of your boots. The door to the locker room is open, allowing a direct view of the bustling bodies within it. You don’t bother to knock or warn them before you waltz in, team phone in hand, and get to work. A few players give you friendly nods while strapping pads on, but you’re largely ignored in favor of their own conversations. 

There’s no time to set up a mic, or ask them to answer any questions, so you settle on taking some simple footage of them getting dressed, enjoying their pre-game hype. Despite your college degree in marketing and plenty of training from the previous social media manager, you would be lying if you said you felt confident in interacting with this impressive team.

As a fan, you know that the season opener night is always bound to be loud, stressful, and busy; but you didn’t expect to feel quite so nervous. 

You open instagram, panning carefully around the fancy locker room to give the fans a look at everyone getting dressed, lacing up skates. Upon reviewing the footage you’re disappointed to see that it’s shaky, indicative of the nerves running through your veins. 

“Shit.” You mutter, deleting the footage and heaving a sigh at how quickly the time is ticking down. You were probably down to less than 10 minutes before they’re due on the ice. 

“Anything I can help you with?” A gentle, deep voice asks. Your heart stutters under your sweatshirt as you get the courage to turn. 

Looking down at you with his pretty, intimidating eyes is Kim Taehyung, star defenseman. The skates give him another few inches on his already towering frame, and you can only imagine how scary he would be skating towards you on the ice. 

You stare, mesmerized by how real he looks. A knowing smirk blooms on his face. 

“...anything I can help you with?” He asks again, a teasing lilt to his voice as he crinkles his nose in an endearingly boyish way. You mentally slap yourself for falling for his charm so quickly. This is your job, for gods sake. You have no business fantasizing about how handsome the players are.

“Uh-um yeah, I need to do a quick interview with you, is that okay?” You hate the way your voice shakes, and you’re not even sure how he heard you over the ruckus of the locker room.

“Sure,” he squares his shoulders, brushing some hairs off of his forehead. “Where do you want me?”

The lilt of his voice suggests he knows the heat that just shot to your face was because of him, but you decide to pretend he wasn’t making you feel hot under the collar. “Can you just sit on that bench, there?” He follows your orders without hesitation as you stand in front of him, framing the shot as best as you can. Aware of the low amount of time on the clock, you ask the first question that comes to mind.

“How are you feeling about tonight?”

Taehyung smirks, and you can feel your heart rate speed up as he makes eye contact with you instead of the camera. “Feeling like I’ll be getting lucky tonight. Chances of scoring are looking very good.” He flashes a toothy smile and you convince yourself the tremble in your knees was just because of the cold in the arena.

“Okay…what’s your favorite pre-game ritual?” He bites his lip, looking the epitome of fuck boy, before dissolving into a fit of giggles. “Uh…um..I guess, making sure to retape my stick before every game?” He sounds unsure but you don’t have time to press the issue, aware that the other players were lining up to have a final talk with their coach before heading out. You put the phone away and nod congenitally at him for his cooperation.

“Tae!” His teammates call for him, all dressed besides their helmets, to join them in the huddle. He hauls himself up, making no effort to avoiding bumping into you as he passes. His hand catches you around the waist and he leans down subtly. “I lied, by the way. My favorite pre game ritual isn’t retaping my stick... it’s a lot more fun than that.” His proximity makes you shiver, and the pointed way he looks at your lips all but sets you alight. “Well, you’re a smart girl. See you later, yeah?” He walks away briskly, leaving you breathless in his wake.

---

Pre season games had established the team at the top of the division already, but watching them in action, standing on the side by the boards and photography team, you feel electrified. As the end of the third period closes in, the arena is ablaze with the happy hum of fans observing a 5-2 win. 

You take a moment to check the team’s socials, seeing that the things you added to instagram did pretty god numbers, and that one of your media team members had cross uploaded the interview you did with Taehyung to TikTok. The amount of views and comments was stunning, and you couldn’t help but feel quite accomplished at such a quickly made video doing so well. The comments take a second to load, but the top one makes your cheeks flame. 

hockeygirl10: hes totally into whoever is interviewing him lol

Your mind reels as you see the rest of the comments are similar, and for a second you consider asking someone to delete the comments or take the video down altogether, but the amount of shares and views on the video makes your stomach tingle excitedly. Instead you decide to praise your media team for cross posting, knowing that making a viral clip the first night of the season will only make the whole season’s media better. 

The chat opens just as the pane of glass in front of you rattles viciously; making you jump as the photographer next to you snaps a series of pictures. You look up and immediately make eye contact with a smirking Taehyung, who had just ran an opposing player into the board right in front of you. Sweat drips down his cheeks and plasters his hair to his forehead but that somehow serves to make him look hotter, and if that wasn't enough, he smirks. You suddenly feel too hot in your sweatshirt despite the arena’s chilled temperature. The man Taehyung had boarded skates away, but he lingers for a few seconds. 

“Put that away!” He yells, and is gone just as you process what he said to you. Embarrassment floods your system as you realize he must have seen you glued to your phone instead of watching the game. You watch him skate away, and within seconds he’d regained the puck and was advancing on the net. The puck goes in smoothly; sliding right past the goalie before he even notices it. A buzzer sounds and the red light flashes, signaling the goal to the rowdy crowd. 

Taehyung is immediately surrounded by his teammates as they celebrate, and he takes his lap around the rink as the announcer details his goal to the audience. He stops in front of you again, pounding on the glass and giving you a charmingly boxy smile that makes your stomach flip. He’s gone in a flash, having to go back to the bench now that he’d done so much work. Your heart beats much faster than it should for the situation, but you can’t help but wonder if that goal had been for you.

---

The energy on the ice translates directly to the locker room after the game ends. The boys are yelling, clapping each other on the back and laughing as they lounge in more comfortable clothing. While alcohol is technically forbidden in the locker room, the coach and staff have all turned a blind eye on the account of such an amazing game, so a small table is crowded with cases of alcohol. You decide to join the spirit of the night and grab a White Claw with your co workers, celebrating both the game and the success of the media accounts. 

“Hey, Y/N, did you see how well that interview is doing on TikTok?” One of your new intern asks as you’re in between sips. The comments flash through your mind as you nod. 

“Yeah, I saw. Cross posting it really helped I think.” You meekly suggest.  “Fuck no, girl. It was the way he was looking at you. You have to be honest...” she leans in close, as if she were giving away an industry secret to you. “Are you fucking him?” Your heart leaps into your throat as you emphatically shake your head. 

“No! No, I’m professional and technically I work for him so that would be so weird...he’s just like, he’s handsome and charming and everything but he...It just feels so not allowed...so I’m ignoring it!” Her eyes widen at your outburst, and the way you ramble through your sentences makes you feel like she’s judging your stability, so you try to drive your point home. “I honestly think that Taehyung is the hottest man I’ve ever seen, and I wish I was fucking him, but I’m sure he doesn’t even like me like that so I’m gonna…pretend my feelings don’t exist.” You raise your can to her in a half hearted toast before downing the rest of it in one go.

It’s not nearly enough to even make you tipsy, but it felt so good that you immediately want another. Your intern’s face morphs into horror, and for a second you think that she’s just mortified to be working for you, but then you back up right into a hard body. 

“Hey, Y/N.”  Taehyung’s voice makes you recoil, but he gives you no time to recover before he spins on you and grabs your wrist in a gentle but firm grip. The simple touch alone ruins any arguments you may have had, and you allow him to weave you through a crowd and into the hallway. 

“Let’s go for a walk?” His voice is surprisingly light given the brisk pace he walks at but you follow, eager to see where this would head. He takes large, sure steps until you reach the empty concourse. The food stalls and beer stands are empty; lights halfway powered down since all of the patrons had long left. Taehyung leans casually against a walkway railing, admiring the view of the city from the tall windows at the front of the building. 

“Taehyung- I’m sorry if you heard any of that. It was super unprofessional of me, and-”

“Stop it, Y/N.” He cocks his head and examines you leaning on the bars next to him. “You know I’ve always thought you were the prettiest social media manager we’ve ever had? I remember the day we met you in the big conference room in the back.”

You remember the day too. It was only a few months ago but feels like ages at this point. Having passed the technical parts of the interview and successfully pitching your ideas for social media posts, the final part of the interview was simply for you to meet the players and make sure you all got along. After all, if they weren’t happy with how you presented them or their team, it would mean you being let go. Of course all of them were kind-they all knew what you were there for- but you remember that Taehyung was one of the only players who gave you a sincere handshake. As strictly business as it felt, getting a firm handshake as a woman in a sports organization dominated by men felt vindicating. 

“I remember too, Taehyung. And it was really nice of you to be so welcoming to me. And that’s part of why I feel so bad that I...” you wave your hands between your bodies wildly, “feel. I’m glad to move on like this didn’t happen, and I can assign someone else to do your stuff.”

Taehyung just stares, his pretty chocolate eyes turned up in amusement. “Y/N, I just called you pretty, and you're still worried you crossed a line? I think you’re fucking gorgeous. And smart, and talented. The only line you crossed is the one into my heart.”

You can't help the laugh that bursts forward at his cheesy line, and to your delight he joins in, shaking his messy mop of curls in the process. “So...about you finding me handsome and charming...” his hands curl around your hips, bringing you into his personal space. He smells like pine and beer, and your pussy throbs at the way his thumbs stroke your back. You place your hands on his chest, delighting in the hard plane of muscle there. 

“Hm, I do think those things. What are you gonna do about them?” All your past feelings of regret and doubt begin to evaporate as his face inches closer to yours, lips a millisecond from your own. You give him a subtle nod and his lips are on yours, wasting no time to shove his tongue into your mouth. Startled, you moan into him and wrap your hands around his neck. He maneuvers to press you against the hand railing easily without giving up the kiss, and a huff of a moan leaves his mouth as your bodies meld. The hot press of his body against your own leaves you panting, feeling so secured under his touch. 

“Taehyung, please,” you plead, leaning your forehead against his chest to take a deep shuttering breath. “Wanna feel you.” You whimper, afraid to be heard even though everyone left in the arena is very far away. Taehyung hums, petting the hair at the back of your head. 

“Can’t fuck you out here, baby. C’mon.” 

You follow him blindly again, driven by nothing but the roiling lust you’re feeling for him. He leads you into the closest bathroom, and despite the fact you know you likely won’t get caught, anxiety spikes through you. 

“Don’t look so scared, baby. Nobody's gonna find us, I promise.” His voice had somehow deepened since the last time he spoke, and it makes your insides melt. Taehyung recaptures your waist, guiding you back towards the ledge of the row of sinks. His fingers cup your chin, rubbing delicately underneath your bottom lip. Your heart stutters as you study the little moles on his face, the soft curls that flop over his eyebrows. 

“You’re so handsome.” The words spring forward before you can stop them, and Taehyung tips his head back to laugh. Eyes sparkling, he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re so pretty. And cute,” he pinches your side playfully to make you squirm, pitching you forward into his body until you can feel how hard he is under his sweatpants. His eyes roll at the contact as you slide your hands under his shirt, thankful that he only had the one layer on. He makes short work of getting his shirt off and promptly buries his head in your neck. He nips at he flesh and you know its going to bruise, but that only makes you hotter between your legs. 

“Gonna make you mine, baby. Fuck that little pussy so good that you’ll never forget me, huh?” You keen under him, moaning out an affirmation as you let your hand travel over the smooth skin of his stomach. He shudders against you as your hand curls around the width of his cock through his sweatpants, teasing the head of his cock with your fingertip. It twitches under your touch and your mouth waters. 

“Lemme taste you, Taehyung.” You give him no time to protest as you sink to the tiled floor in front of him. Your panties stick to you uncomfortably as you move, but you ignore the feeling in favor of working his pants down his thick thighs. They come to you in all their tanned, muscled glory; and his impressive cock stands at attention. The head is flushed a pretty pink, the prominent vein along the bottom prompting you to stick your tongue out and taste him. 

Taehyung groans, hands falling to the crown of your head. “You gonna suck me off, or should I fuck your little throat?” His eyes are dark as they peer down at you, almost mirroring the intense look he gets on the ice. You press your thighs together at his words, but waste no more time to take him into your mouth. The stretch pushes your limits but you breathe through it, blinding through your tears as you sink him into your throat. Taehyung lets a constant stream of moans and curses free, fighting against his instinct to buck his hips into your mouth. 

Spit escapes from your mouth as you bob your head, soaking his cock and your chin in a thick sheen. You can feel your makeup running as tears brim your eyes, and the ache in your jaw is coming through more prominently; but the way that Taehyung’s cock twitches inside of your mouth is enough reason to keep going. 

“Fuck, if your throat is this fucking tight and hot, can’t imagine your pussy.” He’s practically purring as you grip at his thighs and swallow, determined to make him spill down your throat. His thighs shutter and he reels as if electrocuted, pulling out of your mouth. A long string of saliva connects your lips to the tip of his cock and you gasp. Taehyung bends to your height and loops his hands under your armpits. Before you know it, he has you bent over the sinks, staring at your wrecked reflection in the mirror. Your mascara is smeared, skin red from exertion. 

“Gotta get this stuff off of you, okay?” He helps you out of your top layers clumsily, throwing the garments aside in favor of groping your tits. Taehyung practically growls as he reaches around to unbutton your jeans and work them down your hips. You bow your head in embarrassment of your own reflection when he exposes your soaked through panties. He runs his fingers over your pussy, tutting as he feels the way you shiver. 

“So pretty in these ruined panties, baby.” He plans a kiss on your ass cheek before looping his fingers under the fabric and pulling it down to the ground with your jeans. He moans, immediately cupping your pussy with his calloused hand. Your head shoots up at the feeling, giving you a great view of the way he bites his lip in concentration as he teases a finger around your entrance. He meets your gaze through the mirror and smirks just the same way he had on the ice earlier. Your pussy flutters at the thought and he feels it, laughing evilly at the feeling. 

“Want your fingers.” You keen as he teases a single one at your entrance. “T-two of them, please” The request punches out of you but he easily obliges, slipping both fingers in for a slow but satisfying stretch. Your whole core clenches as you feel his digits fill you, but the stretch blossoms into pleasure as soon as he begins to move them, opening up your pussy for him. Your hands scrabble across the countertop in search of support and Taehyung huffs a laugh before offering you his free hand to clutch. You know he’s likely going to have bold red scratches all down his hand and arm tomorrow, but that’s truly an issue for later. Your center throbs, a warning of an oncoming orgasm, and you eyes instinctively clench shut.

Taehyung’s hand stills inside of you and you wail, scrabbling to turn around and figure out why he had stopped. The weight of his fingers inside you is enough to keep you on edge, but you’re desperate for him to finish the job.

“Why did you stop?” You whine, circling your hips back into his unmoving hand. A feeling of desperation begins to crawl up your throat as you hiccup a breath. “Please, I’ve been good.”

Taehyung tuts at your words and untangles his hand from your own before threading it through your mussed hair. “Look up,” he moves your head for you, “And keep those pretty eyes open so you can see just how sexy you look right now.” His fingers come to life inside you again the second that you lock your eyes on him through the mirror, and you struggle to keep them open. Your stomach churns with your incoming release, and you wiggle against his hold until the dam bursts. Your orgasm is sharp, causing a loud moan that doesn’t even sound like yourself to spring from your lips. Taehyung growls at the feeling, making sure his movements don’t slow as your body gets wracked with pleasure. When you’re finally back to consciousness, the first thing you feel is the weight of Taehyung’s cock twitching against your ass.

Despite just coming, you’re voracious for him and rock your hips back just to hear him moan. You mourn the sudden loss of his fingers, but lose all of the air in your lungs as soon as you catch his gaze in the mirror. His tanned chest heaves with exertion, sweaty just as you had seen him during the game, as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks on them, moaning to himself as he tastes you on his tongue.

Then, he bends and promptly spits on you, watching the glob travel between your ass cheeks until it finally reaches your pussy. “What a pretty little thing,” he praises as he spreads the spit around your sensitive lips. Your words have abandoned you, so you simply hum as you keep your eyes on the mirror, enjoying the view of his body in all its glory.

He catches you staring and indulges you, stepping to the side so you can get a clear view as he strokes his cock in earnest. Your chest heaves with anticipation, nipples peaked and sensitive against the cold countertop.

“Think I should put it in, sweetheart? Need my big cock inside you?” He sounds like he couldn’t care less what you choose, but the bright red color of his tip says otherwise. Nevertheless, you decide to indulge his question.

“Yes, Taehyung! Please put it in me, I’ve been waiting all night for you…” you watch his gaze darken in real time, and you guess he must have been able to sense the truth in your words. You really had been thinking of this all night.

“Fuck, Y/N. Me too, I never thought I’d get you like this.” He cages you in from behind again, this time wasting no time to tease his cock against your entrance. His hips stutter forward and his face morphs into something close to pain- your heart shoots out of your chest at the pained groan he lets out.

“I don’ have a condom, I’m so sorry.” He sounds so defeated that your heart cracks a little and you stand up, turning to face him. He looks every ounce of innocent he could with his bottom lip pouted out as you cup his face in your hands. You can’t resist placing a little kiss on his nose.

“I’m on the pill.” You whisper the magic words just loud enough that he can hear, and his face brightens like a kid on Christmas.

“Seriously? You’re the best, fuck,” he smashes his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss, uncaring that your teeth are clacking together. “I promise I’ll still pull out, just in case, baby.” You nod dumbly, just happy to be under the influence of his affection.

“Alright, let me see that pussy,” he slaps at your ass playfully and you can help but shake your head at the way his attitude shifts so rapidly. His newfound confidence shows as he places a hand against your lower back before pushing inside of you. You keen as he stretches your walls, the pulsing feeling of your muscles moving around him becoming addicting already.

He shares the sentiment with a deep moan, head lulling backwards as he gives you an experimental thrust that sends your upper body rocking against the countertop. The more confident he becomes, the more his hands roam your body. One hand settles comfortably on your clit; tracing delicate circles on the edge of it while he works into your pussy. His other hand rests on your shoulder, the grip firm enough to keep you in place as you writhe in pleasure.

“T-taehyung,” you gasp his name more times than you can keep track of, biting into your lip so hard you taste blood. Every time you make eye contact through the mirror he goes harder, as if he had something to prove.

“Look at you, baby. All fucking mine, huh? You like being my girl?” The thought makes your head spin so you nod and are instantly rewarded with harder circles on your clit. Your back arches at the pleasure and Taehyung grunts, adding a second finger to strum over you.

“Gonna cum,” you warn, voice thin and raspy as your vision blurs. Clearly encouraged, he angles his hips just right and mutters a filthy string of praise, sending you over the edge. You come in a prolonged wave that you feel all the way from your toes to your scalp, a shockwave of pleasure that numbs you to the world in the best was possible. Taehyung’s deep groans cut through it all, and you’re actually kind of impressed with his self control as he pulls out of you and you feel his hot cum all over your back seconds later.

You’re already feeling grounded by the time his breathing settles, but the fear of dripping cum onto the floor keeps you bent over the sinks. Luckily he catches on fast and wipes you up with a paper towel.

“Romantic,” you giggle as he throws the paper towel away and immediately goes to wash his hands. He grins that smile that makes his nose wrinkle and captures you in a hug. It feels weird to already be this intimate with him, but the way he radiates comfort makes you sag under his touch.

“Sleepy now,” you mumble, letting his gentle hands caress your back. He nods and pets your sweaty hair back down.

“Let’s get you dressed and off to home, okay?” You press another kiss to his nose before you part.

[sarcastic--metaphor]

Winter's Night

AKA frosty old man yaoi

I've been thinking a LOT about the newest Fionna and Cake episodes... i'm not sorry

AU where the Candy Queen never shows up and the F&C gang hang out in the winter kingdom for a while longer.

Excerpt:

He didn't know why, but Simon approached his double as he played away on the piano. Then again, in the Winter King's world, wasn't he the double?

"Yes?" the King asked, not even turning around. Simon paused, his bare feet seemingly stuck upon the frozen floor.

"I..." Simon came to the terrible realization that he didn't know what to say. Or why he'd even come here, following the other Simon's music, "I couldn't sleep."

+++

It'd been a day since they arrived in the Winter King's world. Or two now, given that it was the very early hours of a new day. The sky outside the vast halls of the castle were dark and misty, the moon tucked away in a blanket of pale clouds.

Simon let his fingertips glide over the chilly windows, the pads of his fingers catching on not even the slightest bump or rough patch of ice. Everything in the castle, everything in the entire kingdom, was so perfect.

And this left him restless. More so than the strange scarab man that'd been following them, who was still thankfully trapped in a chunk of ice. If the Winter King's estimates were correct, the duplicate crown would be completed within just seven days of the process beginning. And then Simon would be pulled back into a dizzying, eternal labyrinth of madness.

Not eternal, he reminded himself. He promised to show you how to tame it.

To tame the crown. Simon had tried so many times to do just that only to fail in his own world. Even with the proof right before his eyes, he didn't know how in God's name he was ever going to become like the other Simon.

Which was why he was here, being chased through the silent halls by his thoughts. Somewhere in the haze of memories that belonged to the Ice King, Simon remembered being restless. With all that magic, the Ice King was far more energetic than he ever was. And maybe it'd rubbed off on him.

As he turned a corner, Simon paused at what he thought was the sound of wind. Or maybe not wind, but a whistle? No, wrong again.

it was the high notes of a piano coming from far away.

Finding himself no longer entrenched in his thoughts, Simon made his way toward the sound, unsurprised to find his doppelgänger tapping away at a cerulean piano.

The Winter King was out of the suit he wore during the day, instead dressed in loose robes in brilliant hues of pale white and sapphire. Seems like Simon wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep.

He lingered in the entryway to the throne room. The other had his back to Simon, playing a soft but cheerful tune. He didn't yet know he had an audience and was instead playing a concert for himself. Exhaling, Simon closed his eyes and searched for anything familiar in the Winter King's music: a scrap from one of the songs he and Marceline used to make up when she was little, the melody to the Cheers opening, those old Broadway tunes Betty used to hum while she read.

Nothing. He opened his eyes.

He didn't know why, but Simon approached his double as he played away on the piano. Then again, in the Winter King's world, wasn't he the double?

"Yes?" the King asked, not even turning around. Simon paused, his bare feet seemingly stuck upon the frozen floor. 

"I..." Simon came to the terrible realization that he didn't know what to say. Or why he'd even come here, following the other Simon's music, "I couldn't sleep."

Before he could apologize and leave, WK, as Fionna had taken to calling him, turned and smiled over his shoulder. He sat to one side of the piano bench, a clear invitation. Feeling as if he couldn't excuse himself at this point, Simon took the offer and sat beside him.

"Oh, dear," the Winter King said, looking down, "Your poor feet!"

"Huh?" Simon followed his gaze. Yes, his feet were looking a bit discolored. They'd taken on an ashen hue and as he flexed his toes, Simon was a bit surprised to find them quite numb.

"What happened to your complimentary slippers?" Winter King asked. He clapped his hands and those two girls, the Ice Scouts, came out of nowhere with a fresh set of plush, white slippers. Simon could hardly utter thanks before they jet off to leave them alone.

Nevertheless, he slipped them on. He, along with the others, had been given very large guest rooms in the castle well stocked with warm, winter clothes. But when Simon climbed out of bed, sick with his thoughts, he'd taken a white robe and nothing more.

He fought the urge to laugh at himself. "Truth be told, I sometimes forget that the cold can hurt me."

He spoke as if this were still a recent development. But the last ten or so years as Simon were nothing compared to the thousand spent as Ice King.

A hand fell upon his shoulder. The other Simon at least didn't stare at him with pity. Just that sort of self-assured confidence that was, admittedly, entirely earned. 

“Well, not to fret! Soon you won’t have to worry a thing about the cold.”

The Winter King laughed at his own words, his hand becoming a firm, reassuring touch on Simon’s shoulder. 

Kingly, his mind supplied, Yes, that was the only way to describe this exact blend of pride and poise. Simon suppressed the sudden shiver that tickled his spine. 

“Tell me, do you play?” Winter King asked, gesturing to the piano. 

“Oh, I… do.” Simon said. He’d let his musical interests fall to the wayside in recent years, but yes. 

Winter King sat up straighter as he clapped his hands. “Then how about a duet?” 

And who was Simon to deny his kindly host?

He rolled his shoulders and began a slow song. The keys were a little lighter than he’d expected, the sound a bit shaper, making his first few notes louder than he would have liked. But neither said anything as his playing even out.

And soon a second set of hands joined him on the keys.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a partner,” Winter King said, taking Simon’s hesitant song and breathing some more life into it. His fingers danced across the piano with far more confidence, taking what Simon started and making it much more his own. 

It was a beautiful song though, as was everything the Winter King touched. And it far out paced Simon’s rusty skills. He paused once he felt that he could no longer keep up. 

“You play very well,” he said, smiling politely. Hands hovering over the keys. 

Winter King beamed. “And you simply flatter me.”

He tapped Simon on the nose, making him blink in surprise. The Winter King edged closer, shrinking the space between them until their knees bumped and their thighs touched. Simon moved on instinct to give them both more space but found himself already at the edge of the bench. 

Winter King studied him with that ever-cheerful expression. “You seem tense, my Simon.”

“Ah, well…” he adjusted his glasses. “A lot on my mind, I suppose.”

Without missing a beat, “And if I could help with that as well?”

Simon blinked and without warning, found them so very close together. The Winter King was leaning over him, making use of his superior height to bear upon him with an eager smile. But it was just so sudden, so much that it left him reeling. 

“I’m terribly sorry,” Simon said, standing, “But you’ve already done so much for me, for us, that–”

A hand reached out and grabbed his wrist. Simon did finally shiver, a little jolt going up his arm. 

Winter King rose, still holding Simon’s wrist. At his full height, he was the picture of grace, yet the hairs on the back of Simon’s neck stood on end. Winter King took Simon’s wrist in both hands, raising it, and…

And pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. 

His breath caught in his throat. Even the Winter King’s lips were as cold as ice. 

A stray memory resurfaced in his mind, of something Cake said when they first arrived. 

“Kiss each other!”

Which he would’ve brushed off as nonsense if it weren’t for what the Winter King said in response. 

“Don’t think it hasn’t occurred to me.”

But the inhabitants of Ooo, of most variants of Ooo, were all just a bit silly and strange, weren't they? Simon thought that surely the Winter King meant nothing by it.

Until now. 

“It’s been quite a long while…” Winter King began, “Since I’ve had a partner.”

He met Simon’s gaze with unflinching sincerity.

Meanwhile, Simon’s brain was being tossed back and forth between denial and shock. And perhaps a third emotion which he couldn’t yet describe. 

He cleared his throat and tried to find his voice. Simon said, “N-now look at who’s flattering who.”

But his meek attempt at humor fell flat. Winter King acted as if he hadn’t even heard it, still holding Simon’s hand. He even wrapped an arm around Simon’s waist, palm pressed against the small of his back. Despite his night clothes and the robe, he still faintly felt that icy touch. 

The Winter King said, “My Simon, tell me. How long have you felt so lonely?”

And he shuddered at that. It wasn’t as if he’d disclosed his own sour past to the Winter King. At least, not in full detail. He hadn’t brought up his sad life as a living relic on display, or the use of magic creatures as batteries for his spells. 

Or just how empty the world felt. How empty he felt. 

“How did you-”

“I can see it plainly,” Winter King said, “I can see it on your face. I see it because I once felt it myself, before I built this wonderful world of mine.”

Again, the space between them was slowly closing. Simon’s body was still ringed by the arm keeping him in place. 

Winter King asked softly, “Who better to be at your side than I? And you at mine? Why don’t I assuage that ache you feel?”

And Simon could have said a million things in response. 

You don’t want me, I’m just an old man. 

I don't feel the same way. 

But Betty–

I can’t. 

Don’t. 

No. 

Please…

Simon said not a word as another frigid hand took his chin and tilted his head back. He merely shut his eyes and let the breath be stolen from his lungs. The Winter King smelled of pine and frost.

He tried not to shiver. And he also tried not to think of Betty. 

That was rather easy. Betty had been human and warm. 

And everything about the Winter King was cold. Cold, but clean and polished and beautiful. Not only that, but willing and wanting. 

When the Winter King pulled away, lips parted and eyes partly lidded, he hummed in delight and seemed not the least bit interested in stopping. His cheerful demeanor was gone now, his hold on Simon’s waist growing tighter. 

And Simon finally identified that third emotion he felt, a kind of fearful longing. In his world, he had grown to hate snow and ice, even rejecting it in his drinks. But he couldn’t deny how familiar it was. 

And try as he might, he couldn’t run from how a part of him still ached for it. 

So he relented, leaning into Winter King’s touch with silent acceptance. 

He said nothing and put up no resistance as the Winter King pressed him against the piano, a wave of discordant notes filling the throne room as he leaned his body into Simon’s and held him and felt him and took from him. 

The cold, once again, was such a great and terrible thing.

[mint-yooxgi]

Yearning - Yandere!Phoenix!Mingi

Yandere AU & Phoenix AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Mingi X Implied Chubby!Reader

Words: 1,710

Warnings: Implied stalking, and dirty thoughts. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Felt like getting this out tonight, so I hope you all like it!! Again, I feel like these are tamer than what I originally had in mind, but some of them are going in a different direction than I though. Hehehe, I don't know, I still like them! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Fourth of The Feral Drabbles

You’re a strange one, aren’t you? You don’t let anyone get close to you, do you? At least, not really.

I’ve seen the way you shy away from their touches. It’s like you know that they don’t deserve you, just as I do. Only I should get to caress your delicate skin. Only I should get to touch you. Your body is a canvas meant to be painted by me, and me alone.

You know that already, don’t you?

You’ve seen me watching you. I know you have. I’m much more in tune to your reactions than you think, especially when heat is involved.

Perhaps that’s just the way I’ve always been. Or maybe, perhaps, that’s just the effect you have on me. Either way, I always make sure to watch you carefully. I want to know your every reaction to everything, so I can replicate the good ones as desired. I want you to see me in a good light all of the time. There’s no room for error. Not when you are involved.

I can never help myself when it comes to you. I always want to know where you are, and who you’re with. I long to know what you’re doing, and especially how you’re feeling at all times. It drives me crazy not being able to be by your side at all hours of the day. Watching you isn’t enough, I need to be with you, and I want you to need me, too.

You’re guarded, that much I can tell. I mean, you certainly live up to your nickname of Ice Princess, wouldn’t you say? You hardly give anyone the time of day. It’s as if no one is worth your time.

Good. They don’t deserve you, anyways. At least you know how much value your life has, and how important you are.

I wouldn’t expect anything less from my twin flame.

I want you to know, that I am worthy. I will make myself worthy.

I have a theory: you don’t give anyone the time of day because the treat you like a princess. 

It’s the princess part, isn’t it? You long to be treated like the Queen you are, don’t you?

You don’t have to worry much longer, My Queen, a fitting King is on his way.

You know, my kind… we mate for life. We’re extremely territorial and possessive of our mates, especially once we’ve imprinted. You’re lucky I haven’t had a chance to court you yet, otherwise those friends of yours… well, let’s just say ‘burnt to a crisp’ would be putting it lightly.

They don’t care for you. I’ve seen the jealousy in their eyes when you turn away from them. They always want what you have, and they hate how effortlessly it comes to you. You’re too smart for them. Too beautiful. Too desirable.

I must admit, taking out my competition lately has been a bit difficult, but I’ve made tremendous progress this past month alone. You’re even acknowledging me on your own, and going out of your way to start conversations with me! I knew playing it cool would work - that seems to be the type of people you’re drawn to. None of this loud and boisterous displays of passion some people attempt to smother you in.

I have to admit, though, there are times where I wish I could scream my love for you from the rooftops. I want everybody to know how much you mean to me, and to be jealous that only I can have you, and only you can have me. 

I’m not blind, I see the way your friends look at me when you all walk passed. I hear them whisper as their heated stares lock onto my figure. I know I’m desirable, too.

The only one I care about, though, is you.

Oh, how I revel in your gaze when I feel you looking at me. Honestly, it’s embarrassing how much I preen myself just for you. I’ll admit, my posture has never been the greatest, until I met you.

It’s almost comical how obvious I can be; my friend tease me about it all the time. My kind, we’re not subtle in our ways, but either you don’t notice, or you choose not to.

Perhaps you don’t want to believe I could ever fall for someone like you…

Is this why you don’t let anyone get close to you? Because you’re afraid of getting hurt?

Well, My Little Dove, you don’t have to be afraid any longer. I will never hurt you, because I will never leave you. I only want you, and I will only ever want you.

Do you want to know the dangers of my love for you? It’s a little thrilling, isn’t it? To know that there’s always risks when it comes to love. At least, I find it amusing, and once you feel the same as I do, I know you will, too.

See, my kind, as I said before, we mate for life. But, not just this life. 

Every life.

Our love is reborn through the ashes with each incarnation. No matter how far apart we are, or who we are, we will always find each other. That’s what it means to love a Phoenix.

Once an imprint, always an imprint. Nothing can change that.

My heart is yours. It burns for you. It yearns for your cold touch to quell the flames that have long since kindled the fires of my passion for you. I am devoted to you in every way imaginable. You just don’t know it, yet.

I desire you, My Dove. I have desired you from the very first moment I heard you utter my name. Never has it sounded so pure, so perfect falling from any other’s lips but your own. It was meant to be yours. I was made to be yours, and you were always meant to be mine.

Fuck, I want to know what my name sounds like falling from your lips after I’ve kissed you breathless. I want to wrap you in my embrace and ignite that same spark of desire in you that has always burned within me for you. I want to feel you gripping at my hair, pulling me in closer to you as you cling to my body as I light the fires of my passion upon your own.

Fucking tug on my roots as you pull me back into your core for more. I want to feel you dripping down my chin, suffocating me with your luscious thighs as I get lost in your pussy for hours. Let me make a beautiful mess of your cunt, lick it clean, and then do it all over again, and again, and again.

I want you to moan for me, like I’m your one and only salvation, and you’ll find rapture in my every touch. I want our breaths to become one, never knowing where one ends and the other begins. I want to taste you until I become drunk on everything you have to offer, and then I want to drown you in an ecstasy so deep you’ll never want to come back up for air.

I want my touch to sear across every dip and curve of your skin, so that you feel my desires for you even when we’re apart. If you cannot feel my love for you by the time we’re done, I haven’t finished fulfilling my duties of your perfect lover. By the time I’m finished with you, my name will be the only thing on your lips, my body the only thing you can feel, and my devotion to you the only thing on your mind. 

And your heart…

Your heart will be mine.

Long have I desired to burn my mark on your heart, just as I know you’ve already branded mine. I will accept no other. I cannot.

My greatest desire, though, is far tamer than any of this. Yet, it is probably the most significant. The most intricate and intimate of experiences I could offer you.

I want to show you my wings.

I want to show you my wings, and watch as that wondrous expression of yours lights up your face. I want to see you in awe of the colours, and the contrasting feathers which are quite plush and so delicate to the touch. I want to watch you reach out to feel them, but hesitate slightly, unsure of if you should or not, and then I want to smile and nod at you, encouraging you to fulfill your every desire.

And, oh, how encouraging I would be!

We don’t let just anybody touch our wings, you know. It’s a sacred practice, reserved for the most intimate of lovers.

That’s how much you mean to me. I want to share in that intimacy with you, and only you.

Fuck, and then once you’ve traced the contours of my wings and run your fingers through my feathers, I would make the sweetest love to you. I would hold you so fucking close, whispering how deeply my affection for you lies with every movement I make, my wings on full display as I bring us both to ecstasy together.

I can practically hear the way your voice calls out my name so desperately for me now…

Many nights have been spent playing out this fantasy, but I’m afraid it never fully captures the full effect of the moment. I know it’ll be even more special and intimate when the time comes, and I can only imagine how your delicate hands will feel gripping me, and stroking along my wings during the moment.

Just thinking about it now gets me so sensitive.

You truly have no idea what you do to me.

I just have to get closer to you. You’re starting to open up to me, I can feel it. I’m slowly but surely melting that cold exterior of yours. Or maybe, you’re just cooling me down to your level. We’ll be together soon. We have to be, or else I don’t know just what I might do.

I’ll be wrapping you in my embrace soon enough. 

I’ll make sure you can handle the heat.

[mushroomnoodles]

Just a humble request for some Morri doodles 🤲 Any AU, any age, I just love this little freak of nature <3

sure thing! i'll drop a morri dood i've made and haven't had a reason to post!

but hey, also, you know how morrigan reconciles with marcy? well, i've been drawin' a lil au where morrigan doesn't do that and instead kidnaps an ice king to make into their replacement dad, like the original plan they had!

meet ice simon! very recently brought back from the labyrinth of the crown, the guy feels indebted to the terrifying godling but quickly realizes he's in for the long haul when he realizes morri has made their realm just for him- or, well, the version of him that was their dad.

ice simon lives in a house in morri's void- a replica built from memory of the house morri grew up in with their dad. it's very uncanny; rooms are too big or small, rooms are over or underfurnished, and there are doors and staircases that lead to nothing. the windows are lit up unnaturally- imagine looking out a window to see a still stock photo. if you open the front door, you'll look out into the pure nothingness that is morrigan's specially-made dadrealm.

morri is constantly tweaking the circuitry of the crown with their transmutation powers to change what it enchants the user to look like. simon isn't much of a fan. the cosmic energy running through the crown really messes his brain up for a bit every time, leaving him disoriented and confused.. but it isn't long before morri's managed to get him looking more like their papa... sort of.

(just a little comparison between ice simon and morri's dad)

[mushtoons]

new au where everything is the same except ice king is his own person now

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg <3 | divider by @jiyaxedits <3

Through The Years

Jotun!King!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: This story takes you and Loki on a journey through the twins life. From their first steps all the way to their first time falling in love.

Warnings for this Chapter: thirst, very suggestive smut/light smut - a lot, nudity, weapons, fighting, fluff, cute family moments

Word Count: 4,1k

a/n: I love this chapter. It's probably one of my favourites. I hope you all will love it, too! 🩵

Tags: @lokisgoodgirl @lady-rose-moon @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbsblr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @mandywholock1980 @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 (Continuing in the comments)

❄️ Chapter Two ❄️ Chapter Four ❄️

Ice Flower AU Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

Chapter Three - Sweet Sixteen

A dissatisfied sigh left your lips, as you felt the pillow underneath your head moving. Being still more than half asleep, you cuddled closer against the pillow again. The moment you got gently shoved off the warm underground which supported your head woke you up - just in time to see Loki standing up from where he sat on the edge of the bed.

The rising sun, which shone through the big windows illuminated his beautiful cerulean skin. His bare back; rippled with muscles almost seemed to glow - just like his gloriously naked butt and juicy thighs. Blinking, in order to get fully awake, you bit your lip. Sinful memories of the past night flooded your brain, and causing your core to throb deliciously.

Well... Since the princes had their own chambers by now, you and Loki were able to indulge way more into your love life than before; sharing some much-appreciated privacy and intimacy. Not that you and him made it work while the twins shared your chambers, but... Now it was easier.

"Where are you going, my king?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, still trying to escape the claws of sleep. "Come back to bed." You whined, reaching out your hands blindly. A low chuckle echoed through the room, as your husband appeared again in your field of view; but now fully dressed in his armour - much to your dismay. "Apologies, my love, but I promised our sons to see their development in fighting. I have to leave for the training grounds now. Unless I'll be late."

A grunt of disapproval left your lips. "They are training this early?" Loki nodded, chuckling. "As most of the time, darling. Our sons are very disciplined when it comes down to fighting. Well... At least one of them..." Loki mumbled the last sentence; voice barely audibly. "And I appreciate that, but... Can't you stay just a little longer and then leave for the training grounds?" You pouted and played with the soft duvet which was covering your naked body, causing another deep chuckle to rumble through your husband's chest. "I appreciate your eagerness, my queen, but I'm afraid not. Though, I promise to return by sunset and I shall quench your thirst." He stated, moving to hover above your upper body. The king's palms were firmly pressed in the mattress, left and right beside your arms to hold his body up. His biceps and abs bulged deliciously, causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Promised?" Loki's face was mere inches above yours now. Strands of raven hair tickling the side of your face. "Promised." His lips slotted over yours, kissing you with all the love and desire he held for you. It only managed to intoxicate you even further; making it even harder to let him go. So, you just decided to start a last try to convince him to stay.

You placed your palms on his abs, feeling the muscles flex beneath your hands, while you kept kissing him. You lingered there only for a few moments, before you let one hand wander lower. Your fingertips traced a line from his belly button, through the soft, silken hairs of his happy trail, to the hem of his ancient armour inspired loincloth. Just when you had slipped your fingers halfway underneath the garment, Loki's big hand was suddenly on yours; enveloping your wrist. His lips left yours with a pop. "Ah-ah, my queen," he tutted and gently pulled your hand away, before intertwining it with his. "As much as I'd love your hand down there... I really have to go." You huffed out a defeated breath and nodded. "Fine. Go, my king - as long as you keep your promise..." A cheeky, mischievous smirk darted over the Frost Giant's face. "Oh don't worry, my love. I want to keep this promise as much as you want me to." Loki whispered in a low voice and bestowed a last kiss on your lips - which you reciprocated hungrily.

Pulling away with a chuckle, your husband shook his head. "You are so insatiable recently, love... Merely letting me out of your sight - and bed." You just shrugged your shoulders; biting your lip. "Well... I just enjoy that we've got a bit more alone time and privacy at the moment. Happens not very often." "I agree - and I like it as well." With a wink, Loki let go of you and turned to walk to the door. "I'll see you tonight." You nodded, smiling. "I love you. Tell the boys I'm proud of them." "I love you even more. And yes, I shall do that."

Loki left the palace; greeting the guards, maids and other royal stuff on his way and headed for the training grounds. From afar, he already recognised his son's battle cries. Áki. Smiling, he leaned against one of the stone columns and watched him moving almost gracefully over the sandy underground, yielding his wooden training sword. Áki had a lot of potential to become a great warrior. He was even seen as the ideal warrior - by all the other fighters, Loki himself, Ymir (His mentor; named after the first Jotun.) and even his advisors. It caused proudness to flood the king's veins.

He admired his son for a few minutes, hidden by the column; watching his good work. But not just how hard and diligent he trained, no... It had Loki realising, that this wasn't his little boy anymore. Áki was slowly but surely growing into a man. His hair was longer now, almost reaching his shoulders. His muscles weren't anymore the muscles of a child, but a young man. Áki's shoulders became broader, his torso stronger. By the norns, Loki could even make out the subtle hints of a soft stubble on his chin. The king sighed, shaking his head. How fast time was flying by... They were just infants and now only a few months away from turning sixteen...

Crossing his arms over his muscular chest, Loki stepped out of the shadows, looking at Áki and Ymir, before scanning the area. Where was his other son? Váli was nowhere to be seen. "Dad!" Áki's voice urged to his ears, causing him to smile again. He walked over and placed a hand on his son's sweaty shoulder. Áki wasn't quite as tall as Loki - yet. "Hello, my son. I hope I'm not too late?" Áki smiled as well, shaking his head. "You're not. Just in time." Ymir gave Loki a nod, before bowing his head obediently. "My king."

Loki looked around once again, now frowning. "Where's your brother?" The young prince shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I haven't seen him since yesterday." The king's eyes then drifted over to the warrior. "I haven't seen him either, your highness. Since a long time, actually. The last time he visited the training grounds was, I believe... a few weeks ago. Perhaps even months." Loki nodded, still frowning.

The princes weren't forced to train, in order to sharpen their fighting skills, but it was highly expected. A prince who couldn't fight and defend himself? Almost scandalous. Yet, Loki would never force his sons to do anything - except it was tradition. The traditions had to be maintained. Fighting wasn't one of them - and yet it surprised Loki to hear that his son had skipped the lessons so often.

"I'll talk to Váli. But for now..." Loki pulled out his beautifully crafted sword. "Show me what you learned." Áki grinned, taking a fighting position. "With pleasure, dad. Get ready to lose." His words made Loki chuckle. "Quite confident, aren't we? Last time we fought, you were the one who lost, son." "That may be true; but I learned."

It was late in the morning, when you decided to finally leave your bed. It had been way too comfortable to stand up - although Loki was missing beside you. Also deciding to flee from quite a few trade documents, who wished to be read and possibly signed, you made your way down the halls towards the library. A book and perhaps a cup of tea was exactly what you wanted today. Just a day off; regaining your strength. So, you told one of the maids that you wished to not be disturbed. With a nod and a curtsy, she left again, telling it the other royal stuff members and especially the royal advisors.

Closing the doors to the library behind yourself, you sighed, smiling. Silence. How soothing for your ears.

You took your time in searching for a book you'd like to read. No stress; no hurry. After you made your choice, you were about to sit down onto one of the comfortable armchairs, when an idea crossed your mind... The secret reading spot. Nobody knew about it. Except you, Loki and your sons. Clapping the book shut again, you climbed the stairs and the little ladder, which led to the hatch - and the hatch led to a little, hidden room behind the countless shelves of books. Loki showed you - though he was almost too tall to fit through the passageway. The little room was cosy furnished by your family and made to escape the royal life for a while.

Oblivious, you closed the hatch behind yourself - and looked up; almost getting a heart attack at the pair of identical Y/E/C eyes looking at you. "By the norns, Váli!" You yelped; hand draped across your heaving chest. The teenager smiled bashfully. "A-Apologies, mum." You took deep breaths, sitting down beside him on the countless pillows, blankets and furs. "What in all the nine realms are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the training grounds with your brother and father?" The young man's cheeks reddened. "I-I should, yes, but..." Váli sighed, shutting the book he was reading. "I don't like the fighting, mum. I don't want to become a warrior like Áki. I'd rather spend my time here in the library, reading and learning new things." He paused, fumbling nervously with his fingers. "I know the basics of fighting. Áki and Ymir taught me - a-and I think that's enough. I must confess that I've been skipped the training already for weeks... I-I'm so sorry, mum, I-" The prince said almost panicky, causing you to jump in. You placed a hand on his tunic clad shoulder and smiled. "It's alright, sweetheart. I can understand. Even though I loved to fight when I was younger - like you know. Without it, I wouldn't have met your father; but I do. I really understand. This is who you are - who you want to be... And that is just fine…" You gazed lovingly into your son's eyes, witnessing his features soften and his lips twitching into a smile. The hand on his shoulder went to cup his cheek. "…as long as you know how to at least protect yourself, so I don't have to worry." Váli placed his big hand over yours, shaking his head; causing his short, blonde curls to bounce. "You won't ever have to worry, mum. I promise." You smiled and couldn't help yourself from hugging him. Something Váli gladly returned.

A few moments passed, until your son spoke up again. "So... I came here to flee from my training... From what or who are you fleeing?" A small sparkle of mischief glinted in his eyes. Váli may have been the more sensitive and sensible one of twins, but nevertheless... He was his father's child.

You giggled, shaking your head. "From my royal duties." The prince chuckled as well. "Yeah, thought so."

It was already late in the evening, when Loki returned to the palace with Áki. The father and son duo spent the whole day on the training grounds. While Loki was still up to the mark and not tired at all, Áki was lacking quite a bit stamina - yet. The teenager was worn out and tired and therefore retreated straight to his chambers - probably sleeping through.

"It has been a very successful day today. I'm proud of you, son. Of course, you still have to learn a lot of things, but... I have the feeling you are born for this. You're doing great. Keep it up - but don't forget the other important things in life." It was an allusion to the young prince's royal duties, which he liked to neglect from time to time. Áki smiled, blushing slightly, but nodded. "I will, dad, I promise. And thank you. I love to train with you. I hope we can do this more often." A chuckle rumbled through the Frost Giant's chest. "Is Ymir not satisfying enough, young warrior?" "No, no. Ymir is great, but... You are better. The greatest warrior Jotunheim has ever seen - and my dad." Loki nodded, understood what Áki meant and placed his hand on his shoulder. "I know what you mean. I promise you I'll take time to train with you. Being the king isn't an easy task and utterly busy, but... Family is way more important. Although, I can't always leave the duties to your mother. She's got enough of her own." "I understand." "I know you do." The king patted his son's shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night's rest." "Thanks, dad. You too - and... Greet mum, please. I haven't seen her all day..." "I will."

After saying goodbye to his one son, Loki marched straight to the chambers of his other son - which weren't far away. Just down the hallway. Knocking gently, he waited for an answer. A few moments later, he got one. "Come in!" Váli's voice urged to Loki's ears from behind the door. He stepped inside and found his son nestled in front of the fireplace, reading. The nights had started to become quite cold, indicating that autumn was on his way. Váli lifted his head, in order to see who the 'intruder' was. His eyes widened immediately, when they landed on his father. "O-Oh, hello, d-dad." He clapped the book shut, putting it aside. "C-Can I help you with something?" Váli was nervous and frankly a bit afraid, because he knew exactly what was going on.

Loki gave him a nod, before he crossed his arms over his chest, muscles bulging. "You weren't on the training grounds today... And Ymir told me that you missed his fighting lessons quite often... Why?" Loki could see how the teenager swallowed and started to play with his fingers nervously. The conversation for him like a déjà vu, since he had talked with you about it this morning as well.

"I-I am sorry, dad, it's just..." He sighed. "I, uh, I don't like the fighting. I don't want to become a warrior like Áki. I'd rather spent the whole day in the library. Reading books, learning things." Loki was quite a bit speechless. He knew, of course, how much his son loved his books, but he didn't expect that. "A-And I know that I have to be able to defend myself - which I understand! I do. I really do - and I am more than capable of doing so. I can defend myself if I have to. I learned the basics of fighting and that's enough." Váli paused, taking a deep breath, while his father still listened patiently to what he has to say. "I-I hope you understand that. Y-You once said that you wouldn't force us to do anything besides tradition, so please, dad... Please don't-" That was the moment Loki had to jump in.

"Váli..." He walked over to his son, laid his arm around his shoulder and guided him to sit down on the little fur clad sofa beside the fireplace. "Me, nor your mother would force you to do anything you don't want to. That's what I once said, yes... And it never changed. That point still stands. It always will. If you prefer reading than fighting, then by the norns, be it this way." The king smiled at the prince, who was visibly relieved. "Nevertheless, I'd like to test your skills. See if you really are able to defend yourself. It's important." Váli nodded. "Okay." "Okay. Let's say tomorrow?" Once again, a nod. "Tomorrow." "Good." Loki clapped his son gently on the back and stood up. "I'll leave you to your book now. I am sure your mother awaits me already." Váli smiled. "Thank you, dad." He gave him a nod, "Of course." and turned to leave. "I wish you a good night's rest."

After the important conversation with his son, Loki made his way quickly and full of anticipation to his and your shared chambers. After all, there was some... unfinished business between you and him. When he finally reached the door, he practically stormed in - only the find the chambers empty, except for a maid, who was currently cleaning up. The maid noticed him of course immediately and quickly curtsied. "Oh, good evening, your majesty." Loki gave her a nod. "Have you seen my wife? Do you know where she is?" "Yes, my king. She is having her supper." Oh... Too bad, Loki thought, but decided not to join you. He'd wait for you. "Thank you. Leave now, please. I wish to be alone." The maid curtsied again, "Of course, my king." and hurried to leave the royal chambers.

The king decided to take a bath; get rid of all the sweat, grime and dust, while he waited for you to return.

Putting your spoon aside, you stood up from the table. "Your majesty, have you had enough to eat? Can I bring you something else?" You shook your head and smiled at the young maid. "No, thank you. I'll retreat to the chambers for the night." The young female Jotun nodded and curtsied. "Very well, my queen." "Oh, do you know if my husband and son already returned?" She shook her head. "Unfortunately, not. No." "Alright, thank you. Good night." "Good night, your highness."

While the maids already hurried to clean everything up, you left the dining hall and made your way back towards your chambers.

Softly closing the door behind yourself, you decided to go to bed early today. A long, rough day of neglected work was coming your way, without a doubt. And since Loki hasn't returned yet either...

You stepped over to the bed you shared with the king. With a sigh, you reached behind yourself and started to undo the laces of the corset you wore. It was attached to a beautifully tailored skirt. The colours were a rich gold and a deep green, showing of course to whom your heart belonged. Loki. You may be living on Jotunheim now, surrounded by your folk, the Jotuns, but nevertheless... You were still an Æsir and also loved to wear Asgardian dresses. It was a part of who you were. A part of yourself.

Your hands worked blindly on unlacing the corset, causing you to highly concentrate on the difficult task ahead. You were so focused, that you didn't notice the calculated steps, coming your way. Loki was lurking behind you in the dark, like a predator was observing his prey. The moment you started to undress; his eyes never left your body for a second. Fixated on what was his. Now, he was standing right behind you; your intoxicating scent invading his system like a drug. He was never going to get tired of this. Never. His eyes trailed over your back; followed the sliver of skin, which peeked through the gap of the unlaced corset. Ruby orbs settled on your hands, as he watched them work. It was a feast for his eyes and probably selfish, but he couldn't help himself.

His fingers twitched; eager to touch you. Loki managed to control himself for quite a few moments, but at some point, he just couldn't take it anymore. Reaching out his arms, he enveloped your hands, causing you to flinch. But he leaned quickly forward, bestowing a sensual kiss on the skin where your neck met your shoulder, reassuring you. "Shh, it's me, my queen," the king whispered in your ear. A shiver ran down your spine at his deep, raspy voice. His hands gently removed yours, as he took the laces in his own hands, unlacing the corset for you. Once that was done, you felt his fingertips dancing over the sliver of freed skin, before he slipped both his hands inside your dress, in order to shove the expensive garment over your shoulders and down your arms; letting it fall to the ground. Now you stood in front of him almost naked. Your white undergarment was the last thing covering you. Although Loki made quick work of ridding you of those as well; leaving you now completely bare. You could feel his ruby eyes on you again; followed by his sinful touch. Palms coming to rest right above your hip bones; thumbs caressing the soft skin on your lower back. You shivered again; heartbeat increasing. Loki's touch never failed to overwhelm you in so many different ways. It had never changed. From the moment he touched you for the first time, through all the years and now.

His hands lingered there only for a few moments, before they started their journey. They travelled upwards, passing by your hips and waist, until they landed on your ribcage - mere inches underneath the swell of your breasts. Your breathing was already ragged; growing more and more unsteady the further up his hands travelled. But it failed you for a second, when they stopped so close in front of their destination. He was teasing you. "L-Loki," you breathed; already pleading him. He had you - without a doubt. Loki just had to snap his fingers and you were a chaotic, aroused mess for him.

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. "Already begging me, darling? Isn't my touch enough?" He asked in a low, husky voice, tightening his grip. You whimpered - in desperation. Loki chuckled once more; hands starting to roam your body again - but missing the parts where you needed him the most. "My queen..." He whispered hoarsely. "You are divine. I swear, I will never tire of you. Still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. A feast for the eyes." He was so close to you. So close, that you could feel his hot breath tickling the skin on your neck. "My eyes only, of course. You belong to me. You are mine." Loki pressed another feverish kiss on your neck. "Let me worship you." Kiss. "Let me make love to you." Kiss. "M-My king, I-I-" He grinded his hips against your back, causing you to cut off your own sentence; mouth forming a perfect 'o'. He was naked. Your eyelids fell shut; a ragged breath leaving your lips.

"Time to keep my promise," your husband growled into your ear, as he pushed you forward - walking you closer to the bed. Before your body could hit the sheets, he turned you around, so you were sitting on the edge of the bed - with Loki towering above you know. Finally, you could lay your eyes upon your handsome man. He had freshly bathed. You could tell by the wet strands of his raven hair. Small droplets of water were still running down his cerulean skin, making their way down his entire body. His ruby eyes were an even darker shade of red; clouded by lust. You took the few moments, in which you just shamelessly stared at him. Time to tease him a bit.

Loki was staring down at you as well. One hand was in his hair, smoothing back his wet hair, while the other was... Your eyes lowered, landing on his crotch. Oop. You smirked and reached out your hand, batting his away - which caused a low groan to escape his throat. Placing both your palms on his thick, muscular thighs, you rubbed them up and down his long femurs; not missing to dig your fingernails into the supple skin - causing Loki to hiss. Close. But not close enough. "My love..." He whined; abs clenching in pure, primal desperation. You smiled again, biting your lips. Just a bit more.

"Aren't you tired, my king? After a whole day of fighting? Don't you wish to go to bed immediately?" You teased him further. Loki shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. "My queen... You-" He groaned again, as you traced the inside of his thighs; muscles twitching, hips bucking. "You were saying, my king?" Loki swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. "Y-You of all the p-people should know how much s-stamina I have." That was true. "Mhh, indeed." Your hands moved to his ass, urging him to step closer. "Then show me again how much stamina you got."

[blairrwaldorfs]

Cruel Summer

Aaron Warner x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Aaron Warner have been secretly seeing each other since the beginning of Spring. The problem is that your parents are part of Omega Point, the rebel group of The Reestablishment. While Aaron’s father runs The Reestablishment along with other leaders from other continent. From secret meetings to I love yous, you start questioning if all of this is worth taking the risk.

Author's Note: Hello, here's my first Aaron series. First off, I ctrl+delete Juliette in this AU. Second, Aaron is in his late twenties in this story and so is the reader. I try to make everything as accurate as possible but it has been a while since I read the first three books for the series, so I might forget certain details. Anyway, comments are welcome! Let me know if you want to be tagged. Enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: 18+, mention of violence, smut, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 5.8K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

It was raining.

It was always raining these days. If not, the sky was dark and gloomy. You didn’t know how long since the last time you saw the sun. Since The Reestablishment had taken over and wars had broken out all around the world, the sky was just blanketed by dark gray skies. You remembered your childhood and how the world was back then. Sunny skies, pink sunsets, children on the playground. You would hear the ice cream truck around the neighborhood during summer. You remember spending Christmas and Thanksgiving with your family. It was your favorite time of the year. 

Autumn and Winter. 

Now, it was just cold, gloomy and rainy most days. The weather was pretty much unpredictable. Broken buildings, fires breaking out, civilians lost around the streets outside or getting shot if they didn’t follow The Reestablishment’s rules. You have seen the brutal things the government had done to those civilians, and it hurts to see them suffer and it hurts even more knowing you couldn’t do anything about it. Your parents had warned you to stay away from trouble. To always stay alert because you never know what The Reestablishment would do next.

Your parents were part of a secret organization called Omega Point. They ran it along with their friend Castle. The group took in people who have some sort of supernatural abilities and aimed to destroy The Reestablishment. You, however, didn’t have any special abilities. You were only part of the group because of your parents. 

Castle was always alert, and he seemed to know more than what he led on. You couldn’t help but wonder if your parents also knew more than what they usually would tell you. You were always good at spying and sneaking out. That was your talent and most of the time, you were always successful in your own little personal agendas. Your parents knew that too. So, you figured they wouldn’t lie to you, knowing that you would eventually find out anyway. 

There was that one time that your parents had caught you sneaking out of the Omega Point base back in the Spring. They were furious over it that you were stuck for two weeks in your room because they didn’t want you going anywhere. You didn’t care though because you had an interesting time that night. You had sneaked out and pretended that you were part of the little gathering of The Reestablishment’s leaders. You were always so curious as to what they did. Curious how great their life must be in that part of Sector 45. 

And you were right. 

Because you saw everything. They had everything they wanted as if the world didn’t burn down and everyone was living in this hell. Most civilians could barely find any food to feed themselves and here they were living like Kings and Queens. 

“Are you lost?” 

His voice made you jump. You were at the back of the building, looking through the window and trying to see what was happening inside. You never had anyone caught you before. Ever. Not even your parents when you were spying or sneaking out and here he was, standing over you. As you looked over your shoulder, you saw a man with blond hair and piercing green eyes. He was staring at you with some sort of curiosity. Some trespasser, he probably thought. You were, but that didn’t matter because you were supposed to act like you were part of this gathering. He was in uniform and on his uniform it said, “Sector 45 CCR, A. Warner.” Your eyes shifted at the name, and you knew then that you had to make up some excuse to convince him that you belong in this little gathering. 

“Um… no.” You shook your head, straightening your clothes. “Just trying to get some air.” 

His emerald eyes studied you as you stood there with your back straight, acting like there was confidence radiating out of you. However, you could feel your heart beating out of your chest. It was running a million miles per hour, and you were terrified that he would be able to hear it. He furrowed his brows and looked over his shoulder to see the dark clouds blanketing the city. You knew he was wondering what you meant by that because it had been a while since the world had an actual fresh air. It made you even terrified that he probably realized that you weren’t part of this little party. 

“Hm…” His eyes studied you from top to bottom. “Which continent are you from? I’ve never seen you before.”

Your heart was gone. You couldn’t feel it anymore as you tried to make up some excuse but thankfully, he was called by another soldier from a distance. You immediately hid behind the post, so you wouldn’t be seen and just like that, he walked away. A sigh of relief washed over you as you watched him enter the building with the soldier. 

Sneaking inside the building, you made sure everyone else was busy and made your way up the stairs. You didn’t bother taking the elevator since you might bump into some more people and then, you were met with a long hallway, bright fluorescent lights illuminating it.

It made you feel like you were in a hospital.

Walking down the hall, you found the Supreme Commander’s office. The name Anderson was on the door and quietly, you turned the knob and peered your head behind the door. It was empty and dark. You looked around the office and went around the desk to find some sort of evidence to prove that The Reestablishment was doing something wrong. 

Something that could help Omega Point take down The Reestablishment once and for all.

Letting out a sigh, you pulled one of the drawers, but it was locked. All of them needed a key. Looking through all the files on his desk, you couldn’t find anything interesting nor the key to open up one of the drawers. You figured maybe he kept it safe with him. Hearing footsteps coming from down the hall, you walked out of the office and rapidly walked back to the fire escape staircase only to be met with the same man again.

He furrowed his brows and tilted his head at you. “What are you doing here?”

You sighed, “Can’t find the bathroom. Where is it?”

He turned his head to the side and gave you a side eye before walking back down the stairs and led you down onto another long hallway. 

“Thanks.” You murmured and entered the restroom. 

You waited a few minutes until you saw the shadow of his footsteps disappear. Unlocking the door, you looked both ways before finding the exit and out the back of the building again. You quietly hid from the soldiers that were on the lookout until you felt a hand cover your mouth, and you were pulled into a dark alley. 

Your fight and flight mode immediately turned on as you struggled in the person’s grip. You tried to reach for your knife in your back pocket, but the person was pulling you in their arms too quickly. Using your elbow, you jabbed the person right on their stomach as they groaned softly from the pain. You told your legs to start running as fast as you could, but you felt their hand grab your wrist and immediately, all you felt was the stinging pain on your back by the brick wall.

The light from the post illuminated his face, and you saw that it was the same man you met earlier. He pinned you against the wall, his hand clamped over your mouth, and his green eyes were wide. He quietly held up his index finger in front of his lips to let you know to be quiet as you both heard footsteps from a soldier from a distance.

He pulled you away from the light and hid you from the dark corner until the soldier had disappeared.

“Who are you?!” You whispered, anger in your voice. “Why do you keep following me?!”

An amused soft laugh escaped from him as his face leaned closer to yours. 

“I should be asking you that, love.” He whispered. “Who are you, and why are you sneaking around the building?”

You swallowed every emotion that was washing over you right now. Your heart was beating a thousand miles as you stared into his eyes. They were icy pale green. His features were sharp, and he looked sort of beautiful. Almost unreal.

“You could answer me or I could get one of the soldiers to throw you out or worse.” He added, his voice was cold and stern, his spare hand finding his gun on his holster. 

Your eyes followed where his hand was, and you kept your mouth shut. You couldn’t say a word. You couldn’t risk putting your parents and all your friends in danger because of one mistake that you made. Maybe you should have listened to your parents. Maybe you should have stayed back in the base and all of this wouldn’t have happened. He stared at you for a moment, his eyes studied you and his brows furrowed.

“I’m a nobody.” You finally replied, your voice stuttering. “J..Just lost.”

His eyes kept studying you until he took a step back and finally let go of you. You exhaled a sharp breath and looked at him for a moment. He looked distressed. He looked lonely. You didn’t really understand how you knew that, but you could see it in his eyes. 

“Go before someone sees you.” He said, his head hung low. 

You were ready to run because you should be, right? So, how come your legs weren’t moving? How come you couldn’t bear to leave him like that? 

“Y… You’re just gonna let me go?” You asked. 

He lifted his head, his eyes boring into yours. It made your heart beat faster again as he said, “Be glad I’m irritated tonight. I don’t have the energy to take you into a prison cell or kill you and make a whole scene.”

Taking a few steps back, you looked over your shoulder one more time before running off. That was when you were met with your parents when you arrived back at the base. They were furious. Asking you a bunch of different questions as to where you were and how dare you leave the base without letting anyone know. Your best friend, Kenji, was standing behind them. A disappointed look in his eyes as they sent you to your room and told you that you were going to be watched for the next two weeks to make sure you weren’t going to make any more reckless decisions.

Then, after two weeks passed, you found yourself outside the Omega Point base. You were walking near the water, your thoughts pinwheeling and wondering how long were you all going to hide? You kept asking if this was how the world was going to be until you died. Kept wondering how much more damage The Reestablishment would do until everything would fall apart even more. Wondering what else they did underneath all those metal tall buildings. What decisions and plans were they planning? 

Then, you felt that familiar touch grab you by the wrist. You let out a small shriek as you were pulled in the nearby forest—at least what was left of it—

“You.” Your eyes widened. 

You looked around for soldiers but there was no sign of them. You had told Kenji what happened that night. You described the soldier as someone who looked unreal, beautiful and part of you thought you were dreaming that night. 

“I don’t know, maybe there’s something in the air at their base.” You lightly teased. 

“You said his uniform said CCR A. Warner?” Kenji’s eyes widened. 

“Yes, why?”

You saw the worry that washed over Kenji’s face as he said, “That’s Anderson’s son. Warner is the most brutal and heartless Chief Commander in Sector 45. Jesus Christ, Princess!” 

Anderson’s son? You knew about him, but you hadn't realized it was him, especially with the fact that his name was Warner, not Anderson.

“Brutal and heartless?” You tilted your head. “Then… Then why’d he let me go that easily?”

“I don’t know but there’s something wrong about it. You need to be more careful! You don't know his agenda, and you might end up dead next time.”

Warner. 

Kenji’s words echoed in your head as you shook your wrist from his grip. You didn’t know what it was but there was something in his eyes today. Some concern he was feeling. If he was so heartless like Kenji said then why could you see the human inside him? 

The son of the Supreme Commander of Sector 45. Warner was the Chief Commander and Regent. The man that the soldiers were afraid of because of how cold he was. He could kill someone in a heartbeat and not have an emotion over it. How much of a robot he was as Kenji told you. You still couldn’t understand why he let you go unharmed. How he didn’t kill you for spying. You didn’t understand one bit of it. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice was low and ice cold. “Are you here to kill me? If so, just do it now—”

“No.” He shook his head, his eyes stared at the ground. “I know who you are.” 

He took your hand and dragged you further in the forest until you both saw the lake. He dropped your hand and pinched the bridge of his nose and paced back and forth in front of you. He whispered your name, and you wondered how he knew that. Although, knowing that he was the son of the Supreme Commander, you realized they probably kept files of everyone. 

“You’re part of Omega Point.” He stated, his tracks stopped and he stood in front of you. 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. If he knew about you, then he probably would have known all the members of Omega Point. Kenji, Castle, you… your parents. 

Maybe you knew nothing of this world after all. Knew nothing about what The Reestablishment did nor what Castle and your parents knew about the new world. 

“H…How did you—” You shook your head.

“Doesn’t matter.” He took a step closer. “My father…” He took a deep breath. “I think…he’s killing… children. Killing certain people.”

You didn’t say a word. That revelation was a shock to you, but you knew there was something going on. You knew it was more than just taking over the world. More than just building up a new world, new rules and destroying every bit of history from the past. 

“That was why you were there, weren’t you?” Warner asked, his voice was stern. “You knew about this?”

“No.” You said. “I… I knew there’s something more going on. I was there to find evidence, but I wasn’t able to.”

“Well, I did.” Warner replied, his head shaking. “I think…”

“I…I’m sorry.” That was all you could manage.

You didn’t exactly understand why he was here. Why was he telling you all of this? What did he want from you? Why did he risk coming out here to talk to you? 

“I’m not.” He said. “I knew my father was vile… A psychopath.”

“What are you saying?”

“I want to help take him down.” His green eyes went dark as it met yours. “I want to kill him.”

A small gasp escaped your lips as he took another step forward towards you. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as Warner looked up and stared at something behind you. 

“Meet me in that cabin at night.” He murmured. “I will look for more information and evidence that could help.”

You followed his eyes and saw the cabin just not too far. It was behind the tall redwood trees. This forest was the only thing left of this broken world, and you didn’t even realize there was a cabin right there. It was too hidden. 

“But—” 

But before you could say anything Warner had already left. You were left in the middle of the woods with your thoughts again. In the beginning, you were terrified to actually go through and believe what Warner said. You didn’t know him and he was part of The Reestablishment. How would you know that you could trust him? How do you know that he wasn’t playing a double agent? 

When you had sneaked out that night to the cabin, you brought yourself a few weapons in your pocket just in case you needed them. You couldn't bear to let Kenji know what you were doing. At least until you were sure about all of this.

Looking around the forest, you saw no sign of other soldiers, but you couldn’t help but wonder if they were just hiding. Entering the cabin quietly, you found Warner sitting by the fireplace. He had documents laid out all over the coffee table and wooden floors. You closed the door behind you and studied the image in front of you. For a moment, you slowly started to believe what he told you. He did brought the evidence. He brought every document he could find in his father’s office. 

“What are these?” You asked, settling yourself on the floor next to him.

You couldn’t help but notice that he was in his suit. Did this man ever wore anything else other than his uniform and suits? Your eyes then studied his blond hair, his long golden lashes and his eyes that were focused on the papers in front of him.

“Records of the children that mysteriously disappeared.” He said, gazing up at you. “But there was no evidence why they disappeared.” 

He gazed up at you, green eyes staring into yours. It was almost enchanting that you had to look away and focus your attention on the papers in front of you. Both of you spent the night looking through the documents, but you both couldn’t seem to find anything. They were all just records saying that they either died from an accident or they disappeared out of nowhere. No hard evidence at all.

Then, another night came and another and another. Kenji started noticing your late night routine until you finally told him the truth.

“Are you insane?!” He whisper-yelled in the middle of the hall. “This is not a good idea, Princess.”

“Just please trust me?” You pleaded. “Just please cover for me if my parents or Castle look for me.”

“Nuh uh!” Kenji shook his head. “I’m not going to agree with your little suicidal plan with Warner.”

“Kenji, he could be the key to finding all these records. I’ve seen it. Please just give us more time.”

Kenji stared at you for a moment before exhaling a sharp breath and said, “I hope you realized who you are talking to every night in that secluded cabin.”

A smile creeped up on your face as you pulled your best friend into a hug and thanked him. Then, a week of meeting with Warner had become two weeks then one month. Then, two months until Spring ended and Summer finally came. Not that it mattered since the weather stayed the same. It was rainy, dark and gloomy. 

The more you spent with Warner, the more you saw a different side of him. His walls were slowly unraveling in front of you, but it wasn’t to the point where you knew his personal secrets. His personal life. You have never seen him smile, he was always so serious. But he had told you about his father and how his mother died. That was the closest personal thing you have known about him.

It was awful.

His father tortured her and gave her drugs until she turned into almost like a wild animal. Warner mentioned how his mother’s ability was that no one could touch her, but her power was so strong that she could feel the pain of her own skin and suffered until she died from it. You were slowly understanding why he hated his father and why he was rebelling against him.

At least you thought you understood all of it until that one night… 

“Here.” He handed you a box.. 

“What is this?” You furrowed your brows and opened up the box.

Inside, there was wrapping paper and once you had ripped it open, you found a green dress, almost the same color as his eyes. You held up the dress in front of you and then stared at him, confused.

“What is this for?” You asked.

“You don’t like it?” He grabbed the dress from your hands. “I’ll change it. I don’t know your favorite color.”

He couldn’t even look at you. He was staring at the dress in his hands and then, you realized something. The dress was the most obvious one out of all the things he brought every time you met up with him. It was food at the beginning. Then, a nice blanket. Told you that it gets cold at night in the cabin, and it annoyed him to see you shivering all night. Then, you found some fancy soaps in the bathroom, which you never understood because you never took a shower in the cabin. Then, the cabin was slowly being decorated nicely. You thought maybe he was trying to make it a lot cozier. 

But no.

He was doing all of this for you. He was giving you gifts, but why? 

“No,” you took the dress back from his hands. “I like it. Thanks.”

You studied the dress in your hands for a moment then, you felt his presence in front of you. Suddenly, you felt the air between the two of you shift. His fingers found a strand of hair from your face as he tucked it behind your ear. You gazed up at him through your lashes and found his face inches from yours.

You couldn’t breathe. 

His fingers brushed gently against your cheek, and a small gasp escaped your lips. He never touched you. He was always distant even when he was sitting next to you. It was almost like there was a wall between the two of you but the moment you felt his touch, all of a sudden, you saw that wall crack. 

“You’d look beautiful in that dress.” He whispered.

The air in your lungs suddenly gave out. The wall he had put up between the two of you had split open. 

“Warner, I… I don’t understand what’s happening.” Your words stuttered, you could barely find your voice.

His hands then cupped your face as his green eyes were staring deep into yours. His eyes sparkled, and you were a glass almost breaking into pieces. His touch was the only thing that was keeping you glued together for a moment. He held your face like you were something so delicate that he was afraid he'd break you if he wasn’t careful.

“Do you know how much it’s killing me that I can’t hold you?” He murmured. “How much it’s killing me that I can’t stop thinking about you every second of the day?”

“Y…You can’t stop thinking about me?” 

His thumb traced the outline of your lips before his nose grazed against yours. You held your breath as you closed your eyes. You could feel the heat radiating off your body and all of a sudden, you couldn’t think straight anymore. 

“I can’t stop thinking about your eyes, these lips…” his thumb softly touched your lips, almost like a feather-like touch. “...your voice—god, your voice.”

His hand slipped at the back of your head before he said, “I don’t want to scare you away.”

Your breath hitched, “You’re not.”

His sharp features were right in front of you, and his eyes studied each detail of you. You forgot what it was like to breathe. Time has stopped. Time froze the moment he pressed his lips against yours, and you didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. He tasted so sweet. He tasted like peppermint. He kissed you hungrily and desperately like he has been waiting for this for a long time. He pulled you close and pressed your body against his. Your hands slid on his chest, and you could feel his chest heaving as he let his lips trailed down your jawline and down your neck.

You were gone.

You didn’t know how you were still alive because you had stopped breathing a long time ago. His kisses sent shivers down your body. It was something you never experienced before. Never felt before. It was so soft and at the same time, it was something so special. A luxury that you never tasted before. 

Warner scooped you up in his arms and carried you towards the bedroom, setting you gently on the bed. For a moment, he pulled away from the kiss. Both of you were breathless, and his fingers were caressing your face softly.

“I…I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” He whispered. 

You gazed up at him, breathless. “Then, kiss me again.” You murmured before pulling him close to you again. 

His lips kissed down your neck and down to your collarbone as he tugged on your shirt and pulled it over your head. You couldn’t breathe. You weren’t here anymore. His lips trailed down to your chest, and his hand gripped your hips as you ran your fingers through his hair. A jar of butterflies exploded in your stomach and fluttered all over your body. 

“Warner.” You whispered.

“Yes, love?” He gazed up at you. 

“Are… Are you sure about this?” 

Your heart was drumming hard in your chest and you swore, he could hear it. There was nothing more you wanted than this, but you knew how complicated the situation was. You didn’t want to wake up tomorrow and find him gone. You didn’t want to wake up and find out that he regretted it. Most of all, you wanted to trust him. Believe him that this was real. 

“I’ve never wanted anything more than this, love.” He said. “You’re consuming every part of my soul, and I can’t explain why.”

You slid your hand behind his head and pulled him down to kiss him deeply. Your heart was pounding hard, and you felt the world stopped around you. 

It was just you and him. 

You fumbled through the buttons of his shirt and immediately slid it over his broad shoulders. Pulling away from the kiss, you gazed down at his body, your fingers ran down his bare skin and you heard a breathless gasp escape his lips. Your fingers ran through the hills and curves of his muscles on his stomach. Then, you saw his tattoo that sits right on the bottom of his torso. Just below his hip bone. 

Hell is empty and all the devils are here. 

Your fingers grazed over the words, and you saw Warner’s chest went up and down as you continued to touch him.

“So… beautiful.” You whispered. 

However, you didn’t know what happened or what you said to him because you saw something shifted inside him. His eyes had gone dimmed and he immediately pulled away from you. You furrowed your brows and questions started running in your mind.

“What is it?” You asked.

“I…” He shook his head. 

You were confused. You watched as he repeatedly shook his head. He looked embarrassed. He got up from the bed and so did you. He kept taking a step back, and he looked jittery. 

You never saw him like this before.

“Warner…” You took a step forward.

You wanted to reach for him, but he was pulling away from you, and you didn’t understand why. You thought this was what he wanted. 

“I’m not…” His voice stuttered. 

Then, when he bent down to pick up his shirt from the floor, a gasp escaped your lips. Immediately, you walked towards him. You hesitated to touch him, but you saw it. You saw all of it. 

Scars.

His back was covered with them. Right on his upper back, just between his shoulder blades, there was also a tattoo that said:

IGNITE.

“W—What happened?” You asked, your fingers finally grazing over the scarred skin of his back. 

He winced from your touch as he turned around to face you. His face looked like he was in pain as he stared at you for a moment. 

“It’s repulsive, I know.” He said, sliding his shirt back in his body. “They’re birthday gifts from my father from when I was five until I was eighteen.”

You couldn’t help but clamped over a hand on your mouth, another gasp escaping from you. You felt the tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head. Warner couldn’t even look at you. He turned his head to the side and stared at the wall. 

“I’m not beautiful, love.” He murmured. “I’m repulsive, and I’ve killed people before. Tortured them…” 

You were frozen for a moment. Trying to comprehend everything that you just learned. You knew his father was vile and a psychopath but the thought of Aaron having to go through that kind of abuse? The thought of him being trained by his father to kill people? Anger washed over you. Turning to face him, you walked across the room and cupped his face in your hands, letting his green eyes find yours.

“You’re not repulsive, and I’m not redacting my statement.” You said sternly. 

There wasn’t anything else that you needed to say to convince him to believe you because he was now cupping your face in his hands, his emerald eyes sparkling. You could hear your heart drumming in your ears as he pulled you in for another kiss. A hungry and desperate one but at the same time, it was all so soft like cotton candy. You slid his shirt away from his shoulders again as he carried you to the bed and towered over you. He was breathless as he kissed down your body, and you swore the room started to spin.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was what heaven was like. If this was it. If you finally died and went to heaven. If you did, it was peaceful. Quiet. The only one that was looking at you was this man with piercing green eyes and leaving you soft feathered kisses all over your body like you were something new. Like he had never had something like this in his life, and he was afraid that he'd lose it if he didn’t hold on to it tightly. 

Your thoughts were gone as soon as you felt him unzipping your pants. The rest of your clothes were on the floor, and you were lying naked in front of him. You felt the blood rushed to your face as he studied you, a small smile lingering on his lips.

“So enchanting.” He whispered before pressing his face on your neck and leaving soft kisses on your skin. 

“I think…” He breathed heavily. “...my heart has exploded a million times.”

You smiled softly and cupped his face, looking right at him. You have never known this kind of look before. You have never seen anyone look at you like this before. Repeating the words that Warner just told you, you couldn’t help but think about how your heart also exploded a million times because this…

This was everything. 

Being with him was like a safe bubble that you wished you never wanted to leave. If you were asked, you would stay in this cabin forever. You didn’t care about anything else. You just wanted to be with him everyday and that was how it went for the next few weeks. You sneaked out of the base and saw Warner almost every night. It was an escape from this cruel world. A happiness you never knew existed but time was never enough. 

It was always never enough.

You always found yourself going back to the base in the early mornings, hoping you wouldn’t be caught by anyone. It was the perfect time since everyone would be asleep and the streets were empty during those hours. 

“You’re late.” 

You stopped in your tracks right before entering your room and turned around to find Kenji standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Sometimes you hated the fact that his power was invisibility because this man always appeared out of nowhere.

“Only five minutes late.” You corrected him. 

“I don’t like this, Princess.” Kenji said.

You looked around to make sure no one was around before pulling Kenji inside your room and let out a sigh. 

“Please, Kenji.” You murmured. “I do appreciate you covering for me every night but please understand that this is important to me.”

“Important?” Kenji raised his brow. “You’re meeting up with Warner. Anderson’s son. You know, the one who made this whole shit show of a world in the first place? The one we’re trying to take down?”

“I know, I know.” You raised a hand up to stop him. “But he isn’t like that. He understands what we do, and he wants to help.”

Kenji let out a scoff. “How sure are you that he can be trusted?”

“Because I know.” Your eyes were pleading for him to understand. 

“How sure are you that he isn’t using you just to get information about us too?” 

“Because he also hates his father and besides, we haven’t talked about that in a while.” You felt your cheeks heat up as you remembered Warner for a moment. 

Kenji was suddenly all scrunched up in disgust as he shook his head. “Ew. That’s gross. Don’t ever say that again to me.” 

“Just please, trust me? We will figure this all out soon. He’s trying.” 

Kenji let out a sigh and nodded his head. “Just be careful out there. It’s dangerous and honestly, I don’t like the fact that you are running around late at night out there.”

“Please,” You said, holding back from rolling your eyes. “I can handle myself, Kenji.”

“I know you can but still.” 

You laughed softly. You were grateful for Kenji and besides the fact that you knew he wasn’t really agreeing with this whole thing, you were still glad that he always understood you and never doubted you. 

“Whatever you say, Princess.” Kenji said before walking out the door. 

Flopping yourself on the bed, you exhaled sharply and stared at the ceiling. You couldn’t help but wonder if Kenji was right. Warner was Anderson’s son and even if he gotten pretty good at sneaking out of the base, you were terrified that one day his father might find out. Then, what was going to happen? It would risk everything. 

Everyone. 

***********

Taglist:

@gracie-221 @his-littlefox @hannahmarie71 @ecliphttlunar @indythefandomhoarder @reminiscentreader @hrtsbecca @soulaires @shattermelyhfmlblog @wildesqdreams @pookiebearnancy @ant-thebooknerd @boliviajane

[boatboysrowout]

i am So Very Interested in the burger king vs mcdonalds au if you're willing to share more 👁️👁️

i'm so glad you asked

it's all grian's fault, of course. 'it'll be great if all my friends got a summer job around the same place!' he said. 'it'll be fun hanging out on our lunch breaks!' he said. 'this is a genius idea, nothing will go wrong!' he said.

it goes wrong in less than a day.

it all starts with scar's job application getting rejected from burger king. he takes this very personally, as the man who interviews him is grian's friend who had just been hired the day before, and scar had been assured he would get an easy in. ren, however, didn't like how many questions scar was asking about their ice cream machine and where their security cameras were placed.

so out scar goes, sulking his way through a successful interview to work at the white castle down the road, joining bdubs and cleo. the rest of grians friends end up scattered in shops around the two restaurants with varying degrees of satisfaction with their summer jobs.

grian, as he is wont to do, waffles around a bit before committing to a job. he's pretty sure he's going to join bigb at the library, but before he decides, he goes to pay scar a visit to make sure he's still not sulking about the burger king fiasco.

that, too, is a mistake.

grian doesn't know what happened. he swears he just meant to stop in and say hi. and maybe play a little prank! just a funny little joke! only he didn't realize how much hair spray bdubs uses and how flammable that made his hair, and really, how could grian have known that the second after he fled the scene of his crime, scar would walk in at the exact wrong moment holding a lighter, making him look like the guiltiest motherfucker on earth?

it's absolutely not his fault.

but.

now scar is out of a job again, and he's gotten it in his head that the only way to get his revenge on ren is to work at the mcdonalds across the street from the burger king and, to quote scar, "make him regret not taking my offer." and listen. this is the third job scar's had in two days. it kind of feels a little bit like grian's responsibility to make sure he doesn't get fired from this one too. but it'll be fine. what else could go wrong?

so much. so, so much.

scar almost immediately goes off the rails. he creates his own customer rewards program in which he refuses to serve a customer if they don't pledge their undying loyalty to the mcdonalds in exchange for scar certified McReputation points. this somehow is remarkably successful despite grain's repeated warnings that this is a scam- scar pulls some strings and grian is forced into kitchen duty after he tries to warn one too many customers. martyn and ren catch word of this and try institute a similar program, albeit to a much less successful degree. scar, however, cannot let that stand.

grian also cannot let that stand, but this is more due to martyn coming over every day during his lunch break and annoying grian by telling increasingly convoluted jokes all ending with a punchline relating to the mcdonald's broken ice cream machine.

so that afternoon grian and scar pay the burger king a visit. scar goes up to the front counter and gives ren and martyn the longest sales pitch of his life, something about cereal, and while they're distracted grain climbs through the drive through window and smashes their ice cream machine with a baseball bat.

that's the beginning of the end.

ren takes the attack way too personally. he gets naked, makes martyn crown him with a shitty cardboard crown, dubs himself the burger king, and declares war on the mcdonalds.

he and martyn set out to recruit for their army amongst the rest of their friends in the area to varying degrees of success. they first go to visit joel in his art shop, but quickly decide to leave after the first thing they hear upon walking in is a conversation in the back room in which someone appears to be blackmailing joel over something in the basement.

they decide to try impulse and tango down at the arcade, and both of them are so confused by ren's sales pitch they just agree to make him go away (they do the same thing when scar and grian visit them a few hours later).

ren and martyn's visit to the white castle is the worst yet. instead of walking in and recruiting bdubs and cleo with their impassioned speech and thirst for justice, the burger king and his hand walk into an active warzone.

there's smoke everywhere. bdubs is screaming. martyn swears he hears a gun go off. cleo is cackling. someone runs past them entirely engulfed in flames. as ren and martyn make a hasty retreat etho cheerfully greets them from his seat on a bench outside the building, tinkering with something that looks suspiciously like a pipe bomb.

they decide to take a break from recruiting after that.

meanwhile, scar and grian have been busy. they've recruited jimmy and scott from the florists down the road to launch a yelp smear campaign against the burger king, tanking them from a respectable 3.8 stars to 1 star in an afternoon. to a normal human being, this would mean nothing, but they text a screenshot of this to martyn and ren with the caption 'this u?'

martyn and ren have never once reacted to anything normally or proportionality in their life.

skizz, one of their regulars, also takes great offense to this. he insists that this is a devastating blow against the burger king's honor, and vows to get revenge.

no one's sure exactly how he does it, but within an hour he manages to trace one of the bad reviews back to jimmy and promptly doxes him, getting him fired due to the content of his surprisingly popular google+ account.

scar and grian, after laughing hysterically for an hour over the fact that jimmy was a google+ influencer, continue their reign of terror over the burger king by taking a selfie of them next to the burger king drive through menu, which they somehow have relocated to the roof of the mcdonalds.

it's the last straw for ren.

decked out in a red cape made of the burger king curtains and armed with a spatula and the fury of a thousands suns, ren marches across the street to the mcdonalds and challenges scar and grian to a winner-takes-all duel.

a crowd begins to gather, with nearly everybody grian knows save for the people involved in what has been dubbed the white castle war, forming a loose arch behind ren and martyn as they begin to chant for a fight.

grian and scar, who came outside to see what all the commotion was about, both predictably panic at the sight of two men in capes charging towards them backed by a crowd chanting for blood. grian tries to claw his way back up the roof while scar, possessed by the spirit of apollo, does the only thing he can and chucks a potato at ren's head.

that potato hits ren square in the forehead and knocks him out cold.

the crowd goes silent.

martyn, thinking ren is dead, drops to his knees and cradles his unconscious body close to his chest and dramatically confesses his everlasting love, vowing to never leave ren's side and to never stop spreading the tale of ren's 'grey long and strong' bits.

grian, upon witnessing this, realizes to his abject horror that he also has gay feelings for his manager.

he has no idea what to do with these feelings, and the crowd is still chanting fight, and he's experienced a lot of stress and unexpected emotions in the last five minutes, so he really can't be blamed when he turns on his heel and punches scar in the face.

scar, surprised but absolutely willing to go along with it, punches grian back, and they begin beating the shit out of each other in the most pathetic fist fight a mcdonalds parking lot has ever witnessed.

meanwhile, there's police cars and fire trucks with sirens on speeding down the road past them, and someone in the crowd realizes 'oh shit are those all going to the white castle?'

so the crowd immediately abandons the world's worst fight to go see what the hell has been going down in the white castle.

it takes a bit, but, with martyn still confessing his love and sobbing over ren's unconscious body, grian finally manages to land a lucky hit and knocks scar out, sending him crumpling to the ground. for the second time that day, grian realizes with horror what he's done, and frantically tries to run to get a medic only to trip over scar's unconscious body and knock himself out as well.

The headline of the local newspaper the next morning reads as follows:

...anyone wanna ask me about my last life mall au

[babydollmarauders]

Baby Au! Jack missing some typa mile stone in their little girl’s life. I need the angst sooo bad. Does the reader call him to tell him he missed it? Does he find out when he comes home? I just love sad Jack! <3

it was one of Jack’s biggest fears. being on a roadie and missing a milestone in El’s life. luck has been in his favor so far; he was home when she rolled over for the first time, when she started crawling for the first time, when she said her first word “dada”. in the back of his mind, i think he’s always known that he wouldn’t be home for all of them, but we both hoped this day would never come.

i sit on the living room floor, my back to the tv, that currently plays the ongoing Devils vs Kings game. i clutch my phone in one hand, recording my 10 month old, holding my other hand out toward her. she stands at the couch, one of her tiny hands clutching the cushion while the other one reaches out toward me.

“c’mon El, do it again!” i cheer. craning my neck to look back at the tv, the camera pans to Jack on the bench before the faceoff and i point to it. “who’s on the tv? who is that?”

“dada!” El screams, lifting her other hand off the couch to point to the tv.

“that’s it, baby! come to mommy! come to the tv, come see daddy!” i tell her. she rips her eyes from the tv to look back at me before taking a wobbly step forward. “c’mon El! come to mommy!”

she’s fast, having learned that if she isn’t then she’ll fall, practically run-walking over to me. her little hand clutches my fingers as she makes it over to me, a big smile on her face.

“good job, baby girl! you did it!” i exclaim, pulling her in to a hug against my chest. i flip the camera on my phone to look at her as she gazes up at the tv, pointing her finger. the camera films Jack’s face as he skates across the ice to get in position for another faceoff.

“dada!” she cheers. she turns to look at me, noticing my eyes on her rather than where she’s pointing. she used her hand to push my face to look at the tv. “dada! mama, dada!”

“yeah? is that daddy, baby?” i ask, ending the recording.

“dada!” she confirms.

it’s later that night after i put her to bed that i finally get around to sending Jack the video from earlier. i’m laid in bed, finally able to rest for the night.

—

To: Jacky <3

El took her first unassisted steps today during your game! 🥺 got a vid for you!

*attachment: 1 video*

—

it’s not even five minutes later that my phone starts ringing in my hand.

*incoming facetime call: Jacky <3*

i swipe at the screen, accepting the call and waiting for it to connect.

“hey, baby!” i exclaim as it finally connects. Jack sits in his hotel bed, the lights still on in his room. i can hear shuffling in the background, reminding me that Luke is there too. “hey, Lukey!”

“hey, y/n/n!” Luke calls.

“i missed it?” Jack butts into the greetings between his brother and i.

“i’m sorry, Jacky.” i tell him, my voice soft.

“fuck, i can’t believe i missed her first steps. it couldn’t have been a less important milestone?” Jack groans. i watch as tears roll down his cheeks, his eyes slowly reddening as he sniffles.

“baby, you’d hate missing it no matter what milestone it was.” i remind him.

“still.” he huffs, flipping down on his back.

“i’m so sorry. if it makes you feel any better, she was walking to you on the tv.” i tell him. my own eyes start to fill with tears at the sight of his. i can’t imagine how i would feel if the roles were reversed.

“it doesn’t. it actually makes this worse, but i appreciate your sentiments, love.” he wipes at his eyes, sniffling again. “god, i’m a horrible dad.”

“what? no, you’re not! don’t say that!” i exclaim, sitting up in bed in contrast to his laid down position.

“i am. i’m always gone. i missed her first steps.”

“you are not a bad dad. do you hear me, Jack Rowden Hughes?” my words are sternly spoken, leaving no room for debate. “you’re not always gone. you leave because it’s your job. you love hockey, do you not?”

he nods in response.

“exactly. you leave what, 3 times a month, at most? it’s your job. it’s how you provide for us. i do not want to hear you talk bad about yourself just because you missed one thing. you’re a fantastic father. you love her. you care for her. dear god, you spoil her rotten. you do everything you can to give her the best childhood she could possibly have. you missed her first steps, i understand being upset about it, but you’re gonna be there for SO many more. she’s gonna know that you’ll be there for her, no matter what.”

Jack wipes at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie, nodding his head.

“thank you, babe.” his tears have stopped, leaving his eyes slightly puffy. “i love you. so much.”

“i love you too, honey.” i smile, blowing him a kiss and making him chuckle.

“she asleep?” he asks and i rise from the bed.

“yeah, i’ll show you.” i tell him, walking out of Jack and i’s room and into El’s nursery. i stop by her crib, flipping the camera to show her laying on her back, sprawled out on the mattress. “she’s your child.”

“what are you talking about? she gets that from you! mrs. i need to lay starfish!” Jack laughs.

“liar. that’s so you.” i rebut, but we both know its both of us. it’s the exact reason we have such a big bed.

“sometimes i look at her and it just amazes me that we made her. that’s us, combined.” he sighs, staring at her through the phone. “i miss her.”

“only two more days, Jacky.” i remind him.

“two more days.”

[thatmultifandomchick]

Inspired by that one vine and the Make Room for Ice King AU by @mushtoons

(IDK how accurate this is but I found it funny)