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yeet-me-dad-dy · 3 years

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Asmo's New Dress

Warnings: Unprotected anal sex, unprotected oral sex

Summary: It's your first time sleeping with Asmo, and your chance to show him just how well you can take care of him.

Characters: Bottom Asmodeus x Top AMAB GN Reader

Words: 2,319

Y/N, are you in your room?

I’m going out soon and this fastener is giving me so much trouble. I can’t get it up by myself.

It could really use a good tug. 🎵

I should mention that my back is extremely sensitive. The slightest touch, and… well, let’s just say it will be hard to hold back.

Sorry if I get you too excited. 💜

You chuckled, shook your head, and put your fingers to your phone screen.

Yeah yeah, on my way.

You pressed send and tucked your phone into your pocket. Asmodeus knew that he wasn’t actually bothering you; you were always more than happy to help him “get it up”, as the two of you liked to say. He always used fasteners as an excuse to get you in his room, despite it never leading to anything intimate.

You slid off of your bed, knocking one of your textbooks to the floor in the meantime, and pulled your shoes on. Asmo’s room was just at the end of the hall, so it didn’t take you but a minute to get there. You rapped gently on his door before stepping inside. The demon stood between you and his bed, trying to reach the fastener of his dress from all different angles. The concentration on his face was precious. He spun around as he grabbed for the zipper, his eyes landing on you. His face spread into a grin and he darted forward to envelop you in a rose-scented hug.

“Y/N!” he squealed as he nuzzled against you. “I didn’t hear you come in!”

You chuckled and squeezed him back, then he pulled away.

“You look lovely, Asmo. Is this a new dress?”

He nodded and turned around to reveal his bare back. You reached forward, resting one hand on the expensive black fabric. The other hovered over the shiny metal zipper.

“Is something wrong?” Asmo asked with a glance over his shoulder.

He really was beautiful, with soft, pale skin, a lean build, pouty lips, and stunning gold eyes.

“Y/N?”

You bypassed the zipper and pressed your fingers to his back, tracing a delicate line up his spine. He shivered beneath you, and his breath caught in his chest.

“Your beauty sleep does you good, Asmo. You’re so soft.”

Your other hand joined the first, and they slid upward to rest on his shoulders, massaging gently. He jerked, and then melted into your touch with a soft moan. It was as if all the strength left him then, and you had to wrap your arms around him to stop his fall when he collapsed back against your chest.

You chuckled.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” he pouted.

“Of course I am. You said your back was sensitive.”

He gasped and turned his head to gaze at you through those sunrise eyes. Then, his shock turned into a grin and he whirled around to throw his arms around your neck and pull you close.

“I was starting to think you didn’t want me,” he whispered as he clung to you.

You ran your hands all along his bare back.

“Of course I want you, Asmo, I just… My emotions are all over the place, and-”

He cut you off by pressing his lips against yours and kissing you deeply. It was your turn to melt into him, and all the tension that had built up over the past few months were washed away by the feel of him against you. Finally, he pulled away, allowing you both to pull in deep breaths.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “I understand. I know it’s hard having seven demon brothers all vying for your affections.”

He smirked.

“But I knew that you would choose me. After all, I am the most beautiful of them all.”

You chuckled and kissed him on the nose.

“Well, I can’t argue with that.”

You hoisted him up, and he wrapped his legs around your waist with a squeak. His dress rode up, exposing delicate lace panties with a noticeable bulge that pressed against your own. You carried him over to the foot of his bed and dropped him unceremoniously onto the soft mattress. He smiled softly up at you, those dazzling eyes of his gazing at you in want and adoration.

You knelt between his knees, and tossed his legs over your shoulders. He propped himself up on one arm while he held his dress out of the way with his free hand. You nuzzled against the flesh of his inner thigh, placing kisses and kitten-licks as you worked your way toward his clothed cock. You could see it twitching and beginning to rise, even with such simple touches. You smirked and moved on to the other leg, offering it the same delicate treatment until you reached his crotch. Your eyes met his, and you smiled as you pressed a kiss against his bulge. He whined and fell back, his hips arching up to meet you.

“I knew you were the avatar of lust, but I thought you’d be a bit... stronger,” you grinned against him. “Are you weak for me, Asmodeus? Me? A little ol’ human?”

He shuddered and reached a hand down to tangle in your hair.

“Don’t tease me, Y/N,” he pouted as he tugged at your locks.

“Mmm, I would never,” you purred. “Are these expensive?” you asked as you took the waistband of his panties between your teeth.

He moaned.

“Good,” you smiled, and pulled hard.

The thin fabric gave easily, coming away from Asmodeus’ sleek hips with a loud RRRRRRRRIP! His cock sprung free, long and hot and throbbing, to slap against his abdomen. His grip tightened in your hair, then was joined by his other hand.

“Asmoooo,” you sang as you repositioned yourself.

He wiggled his hips and whined.

“I want you to look at me while I take you down my throat. Sit up.”

He shuddered beneath you, and slowly his grip loosened. His length twitched in need as he propped himself up once more and met your gaze.

“Good boy,” you praised him, and watched as his face flushed a deep red. “Eyes on me. You’ve wanted this, so you’re going to enjoy it fully.”

He swallowed hard, but nodded all the same. You gave him a wink, and before he could react to it, you licked a long line up his cock, stopping at the tip to wrap your lips around his cockhead. He moaned low and struggled to keep his eyes from rolling back. He bit his bottom lip as you dipped your head, taking him deep in one movement. His member slid down your throat, and you paused as your mouth hit his pelvis to swallow down your gag reflex. He twitched violently and you swallowed again, registering his reaction. He wiggled beneath you, searching for friction, which you were happy to oblige. You hollowed your cheeks, flattened your tongue, and bobbed your head.

He brought a hand forward and grabbed your hair with a hiss.

“Y/N… Oh, fuck…”

He squeezed his eyes shut, and you removed him from your mouth with a wet pop.

“What did I say?” you growled low, and he squeaked in surprise.

This was a side of you he hadn’t seen before, and he absolutely loved it. He locked his gaze with yours once more, eyes wide and lust-blown.

“Keep your eyes on me, or you’re not going to like how this night ends,” you warned.

He sucked in a deep breath and nodded. Your expression went from predatory to loving in an instant, and then you were smiling up at him as you took his cock in hand and swirled your tongue around his tip, paying special attention to that sensitive spot just below his cockhead.

His hips jerked forward and you chuckled as you returned him to the warm confines of your mouth. His breathing picked up, chest heaving as you sucked him off expertly. You had to pin his hips to the bed, as he wouldn’t stop trying to fuck your throat on his own. You set a pace, comfortable for both of you and your throat, then slid a hand down his hips to rest between your own legs. You pawed at your cock, a hard bulge beneath your jeans. You needed to get these pants off before the strain against your erection became too painful. Deftly, you undid the zipper and reached in to pull your girth free. Asmo’s eyes darted from yours to your member, as it lay heavy in your hand. He licked his lips, and you had to snap your fingers to remind him to keep his eyes on you. With a pained whine, he returned his gaze and tugged at your hair.

“I want you in me,” he breathed.

“Be patient,” you replied, before returning to the job at hand.

“Y/N,” he whined again. “I’m gonna cum, and I don’t want to yet. I want you inside me first.”

You shook your head. His legs tightened around you, pulling you closer, forcing him deeper.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” he panted as he drew close to the edge.

You only grinned around him as he curled forward with a cry. His cock throbbed, and he writhed on the bed as you sucked around him, taking all of his hot seed directly down your throat. You pumped your own cock as he came, and the spring began to tighten in your core. You used your tongue to massage him as his climax passed, bringing him down slowly. He didn’t manage to maintain eye contact as he came, but you didn’t mind. If you had cum that hard, you wouldn’t have been able to either.

Slowly, you pulled yourself off of him. He twitched and moaned beneath you until you released him, and then was finally able to collapse back and suck in deep, heavy breaths. You pressed soft kisses to his thighs, hips, and belly as you stroked his sides, fingers grazing his skin like ghosts.

“Mmmmmmmmm…” he hummed, pleased.

You stripped down naked and then roughly peeled his dress off of him. You crawled on top of him and looked at you in surprise.

“What, you didn’t think I was done with you yet, did you?” you smirked.

You propped yourself up with one arm next to his head and the other between your legs. He moaned when you pressed your cockhead against his entrance and applied gentle pressure. His head dropped back and he closed his eyes, mouth slightly agape. His breath smelled like flowers, and you dove in to press your lips against his in a firm kiss. Your tongues tangled together as you slowly pushed against him. Your cockhead popped past the rim of his asshole, and you slid deep. He released a pained cry that you swallowed greedily, then curled his fingers around your forearms, his nails digging into your skin. You broke away from the kiss to suck deep bruises into his neck and shoulders, followed by soft licks and kisses.. He shook beneath you, his walls clenching and unclenching around your length as he adjusted to the sheer size of you.

“B-big…” he breathed.

“Hmm? I didn’t quite catch that, darling. Use your words.”

He whined and opened his heavy-lidded amber eyes to meet yours.

“You’re…” he swallowed and clenched hard. “You’re bigger… than I expected you to be.”

You nuzzled into his neck.

“But you’ve taken something this big before, right? I know you have toys bigger than me.”

He nodded and gripped your arms harder.

“Yeah, I just… wasn’t expecting- AH!”

You snapped your hips forward, pressing hard against the curve of his intestines.

“Fuck!” he cried and bit down on his bottom lip to try and stifle the stream of swears that followed the first.

You chuckled and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Are you sure you can take me, big boy?” you teased.

He swatted your arm, but nodded.

“Good.”

Slowly, you pulled almost all the way out, and then gently pushed back in. Asmodeus released a very visible sigh of relief.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t break you,” you reassured him.

He turned his head to bury his face in the crook of your arm.

“I-I can take it,” he mumbled.

“I know you can.”

You peppered him in more kisses as you fucked him softly, lovingly. He felt incredible around your cock, so soft and warm, and you were big enough that he was tight around you, even as he relaxed. You could feel the curve of his intestines against your cockhead with every thrust. Every movement was an ember that added to the fire in your stomach, and you throbbed inside of him. His quiet whines and moans were music, and you had to resist capturing him in another bruising kiss to find out what they tasted like.

“Harder…” he finally breathed.

Wordlessly, you picked up the pace, barely sliding out before plunging back in, fucking him hard and fast. You panted as you rutted against him, sweat glistening on your brow. You could feel the inferno raging inside of you, threatening to burn you to ash.

“Fuck, Asmo, I’m close.”

“Me too,” he replied, and finally turned his head back to look at you.

You lowered yourself onto him so that your bodies were flush and you ground down against his cock as you fucked him.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” he nearly screamed, and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

He raked his nails down your back and you winced in pain, but didn’t dare slow, not with how close you were.

“Fuck, Asmo. God, you feel so good…”

“Mmm, God has nothing to do with it, honey.”

His lips found yours and he drank you in deep as your pace turned erratic.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” you panted. “Cum with me, Asmo. Cum with me.”

You barely finished your sentence before you buried yourself as deep as possible and released inside of him. He cried out your name as he came with, and you could feel his cock throbbing between you as you throbbed within. He clenched and unclenched as he spasmed with his climax, writhing and shaking and moaning loudly. He milked you for all you had.

Minutes passed before either of you came down, and you collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily. Your cocks twitched, chests heaved, bodies shook. You buried your face in his neck and breathed him in. You loved how he smelled, your Asmodeus, always the sweetest thing.

“I love you, Asmo,” you mumbled, and he tightened his grip around you.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Moments passed as you both caught your breath, and then Asmo loosened his grip. You lifted your head to look at him, and before you could register what was happening, the demon flipped you both so that he was on top, smirking down at you. You were still inside of him, and his cock stood proud and erect, his cockhead and chest glistening with fresh cum. Twisted horns sprouted from his head and black, leathery wings from his back. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your jawline.

“What?” he smirked against you. “You didn’t think I was done with you yet, did you?”

You grinned. This was going to be a long night.

#obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me asmodeus x male reader #asmodeus x reader #asmodeus x male reader #obey me asmodeus smut #asmodeus smut

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the-courage-to-heal · 2 years

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5 Terrifying Ways Narcissists and Psychopaths Manufacture Chaos and Provoke You

1. Instigating crazymaking arguments.

Narcissists and psychopaths are well-known for a tactic known as “baiting.” They deliberately provoke you so that you emotionally react and swallow their blameshifting hook, line, and sinker. When you fall for it, narcissists and psychopaths go to great lengths to create circular conversations that go nowhere – they use these conversations as a space for their gaslighting, emotional invalidation, and projection.

When called out for their deplorable behavior, narcissists play the victim and lash out in narcissistic rage when you dare to confront them, however politely (Goulston, 2012). They will depict even a well-mannered, reasonable attempt at holding them accountable as an “attack” on their very rights.In their warped reality, they are not at fault for making a demeaning comment or insulting you. Rather, you will be blamed for reacting to such a comment at all or protesting their mistreatment.

These crazymaking arguments do have a purpose: they serve to distract you from the narcissist’s true self and the nature of their manipulation. They act as fuel for the narcissist’s supply – they derive great pleasure and an emotional “feed” from seeing you react, as it validates their sense of superiority and importance. These tactics also work to disarm you and exhaust you to the point where you are unable to fight back, defend yourself, or engage in self-care.

2. Ruining holidays, special occasions or sabotaging you before big events.

Have you ever noticed that a narcissist or psychopath is usually overly negative and sullen right around the holidays, or around times where you should be celebrating, such as a birthday, the news of a promotion or career success? This is no coincidence. These emotional predators despise holidays and special events because these take the attention off of them. They reveal contempt for such a celebration either through overt put-downs or even underhanded sabotage.

According to Dr. Sharie Stines, “Narcissists have a tendency to practice seasonal devalue and discardduring the holidays, focusing these abuse tactics on their nearest targets and closest partners. Why do they do this? Because they have no empathy and cannot handle intimate relationships and are compelled to do what it takes to destroy them.”

For example, it’s not uncommon for a narcissist to begin a crazymaking argument with you right before the day of a big event or interview, to make you cry on your birthday, or to purposely “forget” to give you a gift on Christmas. They may even ruin celebrations by actively provoking you behind closed doors before attending family events, to make you look like “the crazy one.”

My advice, if it is possible, is to avoid narcissists altogether during the holidays – and that includes electronic communication, as narcissists enjoy “hoovering” right around this time. Find supportive friends and family members who you can enjoy your day with instead. Even spending a holiday alone is preferable than being with someone who will attempt to bully and demean you on a day that should be filled with joy.

3. Provoking jealousy and using love triangles to make you compete.

Narcissists and psychopaths are notorious for something known as “triangulation” – pitting two people against one another to make them compete for the narcissist’s attention, usually through love triangles. That’s why these manipulators drop unsettling comments about how attractive they find someone, hint at sexual affairs, or boast about how often they are hit on. This is a way to provoke you into reacting and vying for their affection.

In his book, The Art of Seduction, Robert Greene suggests that seducers create an aura of desirability by pretending they have many suitors (whether thats the reality or not). This involves creating a perceived sense of competition so that the target is compelled to win this highly desirable persons attention and affection. As Greene writes:

“Few are drawn to the person whom others avoid and neglect; people gather around those who have already attracted interest. To draw your victims closer and make them hungry to possess you, you must create an aura of desirabilityof being wanted and courted by many. It will become a point of vanity for them to be the preferred object of your attention, to win you away from a crowd of admirers. Build a reputation that precedes you: If many have succumbed to your charms there must be a reason.”

When placed in a love triangle, opt out of the competition. Stay clear of the narcissist’s social media, where many attention-hungry narcissists go to show off new supply and hunt new victims. Refuse to react in ways that reveal to them that you’re bothered; use that disgust you feel towards their triangulation tactics to cut ties with them instead. You never have to compete for a person who is truly worthy of you.

4. Sleep deprivation.

Narcissists and psychopaths deprive you of sleep to keep you exhausted and to keep both your mind and body in a state of chaos so you cannot see clearly or act in ways that benefit your well-being. They may deprive you of sleep by arguing with you for hours into the night, provoking you right around bedtime, or treating you with profound cruelty to keep you ruminating and unable to sleep.

According to Dr. Kelly Bulkeley, sleep deprivation is a form of torture. It is no wonder it’s often (cruelly and excessively) used in interrogations and military tactics to make people vulnerable. As Bulkeley writes:

“Part of the reason for this calamitous breakdown is that during sleep the immune system performs a host of vital regenerative functions that are absolutely necessary for a healthy mind and body in waking life. When a person is deprived of sleep, the immune system becomes unable to perform these functions. The negative effects become much more intense when people are already sick, injured, or traumatized. Whatever bodily damage they have suffered will not heal as fast. Whatever pain they are feeling will get worse. Whatever new bodily damage threatens them will be harder to defend against. Forcibly depriving a person of sleep is a profound assault on the entire biological system at the foundation of that persons mind and body.”

If you find yourself losing sleep daily over a toxic partner, recognize that this is having an enormous effect not just on your mind but also your body. Your immune system is being severely affected. If you are already dealing with illness, you must get away from the narcissist as soon as possible. They are poison for the healing and recovery process and their presence literally puts your life at risk.

5. Stonewalling and the silent treatment.

Stonewalling is shutting down the conversation before it has a chance to begin. It is when a person withdraws from a conversation and refuses to address your concerns. The manipulator may choose to outright ignore your requests, respond with dismissive, invalidating replies or evade responding appropriately altogether by giving vague responses that refuse to answer your original questions. Often, stonewalling and the silent treatment go hand in hand as the abusive partner refuses to speak to their victim for long periods of time. A pattern of chronic stonewalling can be debilitating as research shows that receiving the “cold shoulder” and the silent treatment activates the same area of the brain that detects physical pain (Williams, Forgas, & Hippel, 2014). Stonewalling literallyhurts and can feel akin to being punched in the stomach. Narcissists chronically stonewall their victims to make them bend over backwards to please them.

The silent treatment and stonewalling evoke excessive anxiety, fear and a persistent sense of self-doubt in their victims. The narcissist thrives off of the power and control they feel as they continue to pull the strings of the victim like a master puppeteer. They usually dish out silence or stonewalling right around the time the victim is becoming discerning of their mind games and attempting to call them out on it. Rather than playing into their ploys, withdraw your attention from them and refocus on your self-care. Do not try to make them return. They are not a prize nor are they a loss. Their silence speaks volumes about their character and tells you everything you need to know about who they really are. If you are being stonewalled or given the silent treatment, this is a golden opportunity to recognize how big of a bullet you’ve dodged. If someone can’t even have an ordinary discussion or respect your boundaries without lashing out at you and punishing you for holding them accountable, you do not need them in your life. Know that no one deserves to be treated like this, and that anyone treating you with this type of contempt is unworthy of you.

The Big Picture

Manufacturing chaos is one of the main ways a narcissist gains control over a victims psyche. When you are too busy trying to defend yourself against the narcissists gaslighting or accusations, you have less time to see reality for what it is. The reality is: the narcissist is instigating crazymaking arguments, trying to provoke jealousy in you, sabotaging you before big events, depriving you of sleep, micromanaging you, and ruining holidays. The smoke and mirrors the narcissist surrounds you with to blameshift as they deliberately provoke you and then shame you for setting boundaries or speaking out are meant as diversions.

Solution? Remove yourself from the hamster wheel of chaos altogether. You don’t have to run in circles trying to prove your worth or your reality and perceptions. You know what you felt and experienced. Let that be enough.

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#narcissistic abuse #abusive relationship

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mystic-shadows42 · 3 years

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Infiltrate

Pairing: Hvitserk x reader x Ivar

Warnings: Language

Summary: Hvitserk is in love with the reader who happens to be married to Ivar. Loyalty is tested and jealousy spikes.

The men brought forth Hvitserk to present to Ivar. A new member to join their fight.

Ivar looked rather surprised to see Hvitserk there. They hadn’t left on good terms but he wanted to hear him out regardless.

“Hello, brother. I see you’ve decided to join me.”

Hvitserk was about to answer until he saw movement from behind Ivar. He saw your flowing dress headed towards them. Even in front of Ivar, he could hardly take his eyes off of you.

“Yeah,” he just barely whispered.

Ivar noticed he was distracted and turned around in time to see you. He smiled and embraced you in his arms. This time Ivar let his mouth linger on you as he peppered your lips with kisses.

“Ivar, not in front of your brother,” you whispered into his ear and he smiled into your neck.

Ivar loosened his hold on your hips but let his hands roam over your arms and waist.

“Hello, Hvitserk. I’m glad you’re here to support us.”

“I’m here for whatever you need.”

You nodded your head in satisfaction while Ivar noticed the subtle hint. Hvitserk had his entire attention rooted to you. There was a tension in his stare that didn’t sit well with Ivar.

He squinted at his brother and was about to make a remark when someone came up and whispered in his ear. Ivar’s face hardened at whatever news he got.

“Excuse me. I am needed elsewhere. My love, try not to cause any trouble.”

You smiled at Ivar and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“How can I promise such a thing?”

Ivar had left along with his group of followers who hardly ever left his side. So now it was just you and Hvitserk.

You watched Ivar leave and didn’t notice that Hvitserk had moved closer.

“Since when have you been married to my brother?”

You sighed and turned to face him.

“Since he asked me to be his wife.”

“To be queen? Is that it?”

You tilted your head at Hvitserk not liking his reason for you marrying his brother. There was a time you didn’t care for Ivar but he was relentless in trying to win you over.

He was sweet and patient vying for your affection. He showed you a different side and that’s what made you fall for him.

“I’m with Ivar because I love him, not because of a mere title. So whatever you’re getting at Hvitserk, don’t. If you’re not here to support Ivar, then what are you here for?”

Hvitserk looked around the place making sure no one was around. He licked his lips then contemplated what it’d mean if he said what he felt out loud. He was in his brother’s camp. He knew there’d be spies everywhere but he was willing to risk it.

“Why do you think I came? Rumors spread that you were going to marry my brother. I had to see it for myself.”

You shook your head at Hvitserk. He didn’t have to come all the way here just to figure that out.

“Then you wasted your time.” You moved closer to him so he could hear you better. “If Ivar were to hear you.” You didn’t finish as you allowed him to think on that thought alone. Ivar got jealous easily. He may have a better hold on his temper but that never stopped him from still acting out every now and then.

Hvitserk got closer to you, holding your hands in his.

“I don’t care. I came back for you.”

You quickly moved your hands away from his.

“Your feelings are misplaced.”

“Are they?”

You tilted your head while looking at Hvitserk.

“Yes. There’s nothing here, you understand? You are my brother by marriage, nothing more.”

You began to walk away not wanting to make a scene in case somebody were to walk by. He didn’t seem to get the hint as he kept up with your pace.

“Does Ivar know that you warmed my bed for months during the winter nights?”

You were quick to turn to him hitting his chest. “How dare you!” You whispered, harshly. “Even if he does know, he doesn’t mention it. You’re a fling of the past Hvitserk. Ivar is my present and future. I don’t expect anything but your loyalty to Ivar.”

Hvitserk allowed you to walk on but kept a safe distance and saw you enter a barn. He was about to enter but stopped upon hearing you speak to someone else. He snuck to the side of the barn and watched through the cracks.

Ivar was in there with you and he had his head placed on your shoulder. You had your hands rubbing down his arms in a soothing notion of comfort.

“It’s starting to ache.”

“I’m here. Remember, don’t focus on the pain. Just focus on me.”

You interlaced your fingers with his and kissed him. The barn was your place to be intimate with each other but whenever the pain would be too much for Ivar to bear, you’d simply lie with one another until he had to leave.

It was moments like this when just being in complete silence with each other was enough. Ivar didn’t have to do anything, his presence was enough. He had your heart completely.

“I have to go,” he said lowly.

“You’ve only just got here.”

“I’m king remember,” he smiled at you and cupped your face. “Know that there’s no greater prize than you as my queen.”

You smiled and kissed his lips one last time. Hvitserk watched and waited. Ivar would be busy so this was his chance with you. His hand hovered over the entryway. Against his better judgment, he entered.

He closed the doors behind him and looked at your surprised face.

“Get out of here, Hvitserk.”

Your heart started to race when he didn’t say anything back. His intentions weren’t good that much you could tell.

You watched him as you tried stepping around his large frame. He held his arm out blocking you.

“I’m not going to leave.”

“Then I’ll scream.” You tried once more evading him but he placed his hands on your arms holding you in place.

“I’m not going to leave you.”

You crinkled your brows at him, not understanding. He had no obligation to stay.

“There’s nothing here for you. Why can’t you just leave it all in the past?”

“I love you.”

You froze in your spot. Love wasn’t to be taken lightly.

“You’re in love with the idea of me,” you spoke in a softer voice this time. Perhaps he was still hurting from his past.

“Did Ivar ever tell you what he’s done to the women I’ve loved?” His voice sounded strained but he held firm. You knew of the losses he’s endured. It was a hard thought to accept that Hvitserk lost the women he’s cared for in his life. All gone at the hands of your husband.

“I’ve heard stories.” It was something you didn’t like but it was part of Ivar’s past.

Hvitserk let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t suppose he ever told you how exactly he rid of them.” He took your devote silence as his answer. “Tragic. Ivar’s killed every woman that I’ve ever loved, brutally. Every single one. Except you.”

There was a hushed silence after he spoke. His chest heaved and his eyes held a new profound fury in them. It was one that wasn’t for you but rather a fury that had been long pent up before he even came here.

This anger was for Ivar.

“So what? You’re trying to get even with him by messing with me?” You shrugged. “What Ivar did was wrong, we both know that. You’re brothers. Speak to him. He’ll listen, I know he will.”

Hvitserk shook his head. He already made up his mind. He didn’t want to have a civil conversation with his brother.

“I can give you everything Ivar can’t.”

You shook your head at him. It was hard to get your point across when he didn’t even bother to listen.

“Ivar is all I want. I love him. Why can’t you understand that?”

“Because nobody loves Ivar. They fear him and he uses everyone’s fear to his advantage.”

“Well not with me. He’s changed since the last time you saw him.”

“Really?” He scoffed in disbelief getting closer.

“Really,” you stated trying so hard to stand firm and appear confident in front of him. Usually, you’d be able to read Hvitserk but he was different. He was unpredictable now.

Hvitserk placed his hands on your lower back before pulling you forward to kiss you. He held your head to him so you wouldn’t pull away. You tried moving his hands from you until you kicked his shin and pulled back.

“Why’d you do that?!” You huffed watching as he was bent over with a smile on his face. “Just leave me alone.”

“Is that an order by the queen?” He mocked. You ignored him and left him.

It was starting to become evident to Hvitserk that your loyalty lies with Ivar.

He saw the way you proudly stood by his side and consoled him when his bones started to ache.

You were both good for each other but that wouldn’t stop him from trying again. His brothers all seemed to get the women they wanted. They married and were committed to only one. He wanted that now.

He’d be damned if he let his brother take this from him. Time had passed as Hvitserk was deep in thought. The incident earlier was fresh on his mind even with Ivar in front of him going over plans.

Ivar had stopped speaking when he saw his brother’s attention was diverted when pushing his food away. His men had informed him of the incident in the farm and he wasn’t too happy about it.

“I see the way you look at her.”

“Look at who?” Hvitserk questioned without looking at his brother. He knew Ivar was smart, he just wanted to play dumb to see what he knew so far.

Ivar scoffed and shook his head at his brother.

“The way you look at my wife. I can see in your eyes what you want to do to her.”

“She’s your wife Ivar. She’s yours. It doesn’t exactly matter what I think.”

Ivar nodded. “You’re right, she is my wife.” Ivar got closer to Hvitserk so he could whisper in his ear. “I don’t share. Frankly, I get jealous. I don’t like the way you look at my wife neither the impure thoughts you’re thinking.”

Hvitserk humorlessly chuckled. “What would you like me to do then, brother?”

“I’m not speaking to you as my brother. I’m speaking to you as your king. Leave my wife alone or so help me Hvitserk, I’ll kill you.”

“You forget that I am fighting for you.”

“You’re only here because you were curious how things were here. You jumped ship for her, not me. I know you’ve had her before so as far as I’m concerned you’re loyalty isn’t with me. At least, not completely.”

Hvitserk pushed his food aside and clasped his hands together turning his full attention to Ivar. Something changed in his eyes which made Ivar tense.

“You need me Ivar. Only I know how to get you a bigger army. I know the layout of the land you want to raid and I also know where we can get silver.”

Ivar’s lip twitched in amusement.

“I can achieve all of that without you, brother.”

This time it was Hvitserk’s turn to have a condescending smirk.

“No, you can’t. You know it and I know it. I have terms for each one I help you achieve.”

“Terms? What is it that you want Hvitserk?”

“I want your wife.”

Ivar tilted his head to the side. “No, you don’t.”

“I want her Ivar.”

“What are your terms? Come on,” he urged.

“My answer will remain the same. I want your wife.”

“You can’t have my wife. I can give you anything but her.”

Hvitserk took his sword out and pierced it into the ground. He twisted the handle turning it in the dirt.

“What you fail to realize Ivar is that you don’t really hold any real power. You don’t believe I would come here and make demands without actually having a plan of my own, do you?”

He looked up to see Ivar knitting his brow in confusion.

“What do you speak of?”

“I’ve allied myself with an army. We want the same as you. So we can either be allies or we can destroy everything you worked so hard to gain.”

“You infiltrated my camp?!” Ivar all but growled out.

Hvitserk smiled nodding his head once. He was calm which was a new look for him. Ivar was about to stand up with the help of his crutch but Hvitserk stood up and held his shoulder down.

“I’ll have your wife regardless of the decision you make. You’ve taken all that I love. Now I’ll take someone you love. You’re going to take me to her Ivar. I want you to tell her my terms.” Hvitserk lowered himself closer so Ivar could hear every word he was about to say. “I want you there when your wife gives herself to me willingly. I want you to watch as I fuck her from behind. I know how you get off just by watching.”

Hvitserk stood up straight then patted his brother’s shoulder before walking off.

Tagged: @belovedcherry @lordsexmachine @lol-haha-joke @mariaenchanted @ethereallysimple @bababasti @ir-abelas-telanadas

#Hvitserk x reader x Ivar #Hvitserk x reader #Ivar x reader #Hvitserk Lothbrok #Ivar Lothbrok #Ivar ragnarsson #Hvitserk ragnarsson #Hvitserk Vikings #Ivar Vikings #Vikings

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mybunnyparadenme · 3 years

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Ah wow so cool to have found you on Tumblr! I'm a big fan of your fic :) For the Bunny chart post, it would be so cool to see a Princess Kenny/Marjorine fic, maybe with Marj as her lady in waiting or something? ^-^

Hhhhhh thank you, I'm so flattered! /)///w///(\ Glad you found my blog too! Here's the fic, THANK YOU for requesting the girls!! I hope that you don't mind it's super angsty! ^^;

D2 - Marjorine/Princess Kenny

Princess Kenny had to be the most beautiful girl at the ball tonight.

Of course Kenny's always the most beautiful girl regardless, Marjorine thought to herself as she watched her dear friend dance with a dark haired prince from a far off kingdom. How couldn't she be? Her golden hair was done up in an intricate braid, exposing her slender neck and pale shoulders, and the lilac of her dress highlighted her gorgeous eyes, making her look like a goddess in human form. Marjorine felt pride color her cheeks, knowing that she'd had a hand in her appearance. She'd spent ages running a brush through that long hair until it gleamed in the light, plaiting it carefully so not a single strand fell out of place. And her hard work had definitely paid off, Kenny had been dancing all night and she still looked as immaculate as when they'd arrived.

At least until the awful foreign prince reached up and carelessly ran his fingers through her hair, tugging at her braid and leaving several strands loose in his wake. He looked smug as he curled her hair around his finger, and Marjorine was ready to stomp over there and tell him off for being so rough with her princess, but before she could even take the first step, Kenny had that same finger bent backwards and was whispering something into his ear. Something harsh, given the worry in the prince's pain-laced expression. The exchange only lasted for a moment, and then Kenny gave him a sweet smile as she curtsied goodbye. Almost immediately, she was in the arms of a new dance partner, the handsome Elf King of Zaron.

Marjorine let herself relax again. The elf was known for being well-mannered, no doubt he would treat Kenny with the respect she deserved. She watched the two of them dance with a smile on her face, though it quickly became strained when she saw Kenny throw her head back and laugh at something he'd said to her. They seemed to be hitting it off very nicely, and... and that was a good thing! They were at this ball to scope out potential suitors after all, the goal was to find someone she could not only get along with, but rule a kingdom with. This was a good thing, wasn't it? So why did the air suddenly feel like it was too heavy to breathe? She quickly turned from the dance floor and made her way over to the open balcony several feet away.

I could use some fresh air, she told herself. That was all she needed, and then everything would be fine.

The cool breeze felt good against her heated cheeks, a definite relief from the stuffy air in the ballroom. Marjorine tilted her head up to marvel at the beautiful moon overhead, so full and big it looked like she could reach up and touch it with her fingertips. But as she lifted her hand and clutched at empty space, she felt her heart sink at the realization that the distance between her and the moon was similar to the one between her and the princess she loved so much. Marjorine was proud to be Kenny's lady in waiting, her confidante, but that was all she would ever be. A selfish part of her was hoping that tonight would be a bust, that Kenny would turn her nose up at all the people vying for her attention, and it could just be the two of them for a little while longer... but Kenny had a whole country to think about, and what was one girl in the face of a kingdom? She would just have to be content with the hand she'd been given.

"There you are, Marji!" A soft, elegant voice called, moments before a pair of arms wrapped themselves around Marjorine's waist.

"Y-Your highness!" Marjorine cried, stiffening for a moment before her body relaxed in the familiar embrace. Her worries always melted away when Kenny was holding her. "What are you doing out here?"

"Looking for you of course." Kenny whispered in her ear, her lips lingering just long enough to make Marjorine shiver. "It was getting so dull in there without you."

Marjorine shifted so that they were face to face, her arms coming up to loop behind Kenny's neck. It wasn't proper to show this much affection in such a public place, but after seeing so many pairs of hands around the girl she loved, Marjorine couldn't deny herself this moment of comfort between them. Still, duty demanded that she say, "We should head back inside, they'll notice you missing soon."

"I'd rather be out here with you, though." Kenny murmured. She knocked their foreheads together, looking into the other girl's eyes with an intensity that made Marjorine shiver. Her eyes were the color of lavender, but there was nothing calming about her gaze. "Can't we stay out here a little while longer, my dear?"

They both knew she couldn't deny her princess anything, especially not when she used such sweet endearments. She swallowed hard and nodded, trailing her hands over her shoulders (oh, they were so achingly smooth) and down her arms until their fingers were interlocked. "Of course, Kenny. Anything you want."

Seeing her smile was almost a punishment, so radiant it nearly left her blinded. "I want to dance with you, Marjorine."

And then they were swaying as soft music drifted out into the balcony, dreamy and beautiful and so perfect Marjorine had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from tearing up. They weren't dancing formally, the way Kenny had been taught all her life with steps to memorize and rules to follow. This was a dance they'd done hundreds of times, in the middle of the night when they weren't tired enough to sleep or after a boring meeting to let off some steam. It was a dance all their own, intimate and sacred and meant only for the two of them, Kenny taking the lead because that was what she was meant to do. Marjorine was the only one allowed to see this side of her, the girl who could rule a kingdom all on her own without a king by her side. But there were laws, and expectations being placed on those delicate shoulders, and they could only pretend for so long before they'd have to go back and face reality.

But they still had this moment, right now.

Kenny danced them into the far side of the balcony, out of view of the rest of the ball room. Marjorine could feel the cold stone wall against the fabric of her dress, but it didn't compare to the warmth coming from Kenny's body pressed flush against her own. Their lips were only inches apart, but she was distracted by the loose strand of hair that the awful prince had loosened from Kenny's braid. She reached up to tuck it behind her ear, but Kenny caught her hand and pressed a gentle kiss against her work-roughened knuckles.

Marjorine gasped and felt her cheeks burn. "Y-Your highness, you-"

"Kenny." She murmured into her skin, turning her hand to kiss the inside of her wrist. "Not 'your highness' or 'princess' when it's just the two of us. Use my name."

"Kenny." Marjorine breathed, shuddering as Kenny's lips trailed higher, until they were on her neck, her chin, her cheeks. "Kenny, my Kenny... m-my..."

"Just yours, Marji." Kenny whispered, and then their lips met and there were no more words spoken. If Kenny tasted the salt in their kiss, she didn't say, but her mouth worked feverishly against Marjorine's as if she could counter it with the sweetness of her tongue, and make up for the fact that moments like these would soon be fleeting at best.

And nonexistent at worst.

#south park #sp bunny #butters stotch #kenny mccormick #bunny sp #my fics #south park fic #south park is my favorite yuri anime :')#i've outlined the other two requests so hopefully (fingers crossed!) they'll be out later tonight or tomorrow morning :)

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.8k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: please please please use your discretion, this chapter has one of the most intense/rough scenes of the story so far, and while it is all entirely consensual, heed the warnings in case you think they may upset you, unprotected sex, morning sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, creampie, cum play, cum eating, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, public sex, filmed sex, exhib/voyeur, outdoor sex, oral (f receiving), cum eating, nipple play, biting, rough sex, doggy style, manhandling, hair tugging, light choking, a lot of aftercare bc this needs it

banner designer @jamaisjoons | thank you my darling SFHS babies ! i love you i hope this doesn’t feel rushed or anything, eep i didn’t have time to go over it

DAY TEN

Jin’s already awake by the time you blink away the last few dregs of sleep from your eyes. Glancing at you over the top of his phone occasionally, he smiles and wishes you a good morning once he sees you stretching and sitting up.

“Mm, morning,” you hum back, enjoying the well-rested looseness to your muscles from a good night’s sleep. “I think your bed is comfier than mine.”

“Then move in,” he answers immediately, with a wry grin to let you know he’s not fully serious. “Slept good, then?”

You nod, shifting under the duvet to face him. For a moment, you just give him a bemused look. “You like to get yours done early, huh? The prompt, I mean. Wanting to get it over and done with? Both last week and this week you were one of the firsts.”

Jin’s eyebrows lift in mild surprise. Even this early in the morning, his brown hair is endearingly ruffled, and his eyes are as bright as ever, pyjamas not even wrinkled. “Of course not,” he waves away, reaching out to pat your thigh warmly, his palm resting there. “I’m an opportunist.”

Your heart hitches in your chest at the intense gaze he holds on you, the heat from his skin making you shiver. Though he was dressed in a matching set of striped pyjamas, you only had a baggy shirt and a pair of panties on, your preferred way of sleeping, and his fingers splayed broadly over your bare thigh has your stomach turning in pleasure.

Outside, it’s silent, and judging by the early hour of the alarm clock on his nightstand, nobody else would be up. You bite your lip, letting your hand rest over Jin’s. “We’re alone,” you offer up suggestively, “I’m barely dressed, and I’m still needy from not getting to fuck you yesterday. Would you classify that as an opportunity?”

Though his face stays lightly bemused, the twitch of his fingers tightening minutely on your thigh belies his reaction. “Oh, baby; did Seokjinnie not give you his cock, hm? Was he being a meanie?”

You tut, trying not to laugh at the playful pout he’s stuck his bottom lip out for. “You goof, now the mood is ruined. I’m outta here.”

After shaking his hand off your thigh, stumbling awkwardly out of the mess of sheets and blankets, you make it to the desk where your phone has lain, unplugged, overnight. Wincing at the low battery and long train of notifications, you don’t hear the shifting of fabric or bare feet on plush carpet until a clothed hardness is pressed flush against you, making your core clench even as you jump in fright.

Barely breathing, you feel as Jin’s chest leans forward to press against your back, the buttons of his pyjamas digging in. And then further still, pushing until you bend at the hip. As one hand reaches out to brace himself on the desk, and the other arm wraps low around your waist, Jin forces you to bend over the desk longways until your phone has clattered loudly onto the wood and your chest presses against the hard surface.

“What are you-” you break off with a gasp at the feeling of his lower hand moving, fingers slipping between your legs to brush over the crotch of your panties, folds already dampening the fabric. “What are you doing?” you manage to pant out.

“You were right,” Jin murmurs lowly, and your spine trembles to hear his voice so close to your ear, lips barely brushing the lobe. “I would classify this as an opportunity. I’ll give my baby the cock she needs.”

You groan as a single fingertip locates your entrance and presses, obstructed by the fabric but enough to make you clench. “Fuck me,” you plead, letting yourself go slack against the desktop, one hand clutching at his wrist to anchor you.

“Mm,” he hums sweetly, standing himself up again. You whimper at the loss, but it’s drowned out by his gentle shushing. As his clothed erection continues to press against you, he takes his free hand and slips it under your shirt, running his palm up and down your back to calm you. “I will,” he confirms, “but I just want to make sure you’re ready first, yeah? Can you be patient for me?”

You nod shakily, biting down hard on your lip when you feel both of his hands moving until they meet together to slip down your panties. His nails drag lightly over the flesh of your ass as the fabric slides off, and the second they drop and pool at your ankles, you feel his fingers dipping inside you without hesitation.

You jump at the sudden intrusion of two of his thick fingers instinctively, but his hand is on your back again, holding you down with the barest exertion, and he continues thrusting at an unhurried pace.

“That’s it,” he praises, “just take it like that, baby, just relax for me.” He continues to work you open; two fingers, then three, even testing a fourth just to see you wriggle wantonly below him, before he pulls them out wetly.

Already out of breath and sweating, you whine at the lack of contact. “‘M ready, Seokjinnie, just fuck me, please,” you blabber as your core clenches, empty.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, sweetness,” he assures, “I just wanna see your pretty face. Do you wanna go hop on the bed for me?”

No matter how hard you bite on your lip, enough blood is rushing to your cheeks for the blush to be clear to Jin as you stand up shakily and turn to face him. With a pleased smile at how he’s affected you, he helps lead you to the bed again, guiding you to lay down on your back on the cool sheets. As your legs dangle over the edge, Jin steps between them, palming at his crotch.

Splayed out like this, your shirt rides up, and Jin takes the opportunity to grip snugly onto your hip, holding you steady as he slips his cock out from his pants and begins running it through your folds.

Your breath hitches, core clenching around nothing as you whine. “Need you, Seokjinnie,” you gasp as his head finally presses to your entrance. Eyes fluttering shut, you let a hand trail down to find his, entwining your fingers.

You feel him shift to hold your hand better, a low breath leaving him as he tightens his fingers. Even as he drives his length into you, slow enough to feel every inch, it’s the feeling of your hand in his that strikes you as the most intimate, most vulnerable part of this.

You hiss instinctively once his hips press flat against the flesh of your ass, clenching around the intrusion, and Jin passes his free hand over your cheek soothingly. “Just relax,” you hear him coo, “open your eyes for me, baby, deep breath.”

You manage to blink away the pleasured haze that tugs at your lids, staring up at his warm smile. Just like before, the endearing disheveled hair and cosy pyjamas he’s wearing make you smile back at him, heart airy at how beautiful he looks.

Through a crack in his curtains, earthy rays of sunshine filter through the air, the light banding across his face and collarbones. You have the sudden urge to kiss him, your free hand clutching at the soft fabric of his shirt.

When he lets you tug him down, he shifts inside you, and you whimper. The sound is quickly muffled by his lips, moving against yours so sweetly. Jin’s kisses are usually heady, addicting, but this one feels like a deep inhale of clean air, fresh and comforting, and you bury your hand in his shirt like your life depends on keeping him close.

When he finally does pull away, still so close that his nose bumps against yours, he rubs your cheekbone with his thumb fondly. “Are you ready for me to move now, baby?”

You nod, your legs coming up to wrap around his waist, ankles locking in. “Please, Seokjinnie.”

“Just relax,” he murmurs gently again, and presses his nose to your jaw, nudging your face to the side so that he can lay featherlight kisses down the sensitive skin of your throat.

Feeling electrified from his teasing touches, you groan brokenly when he finally begins to pull out. Once your walls clench needily around his head, he thrusts back in, and sets a deep, languid pace.

With your head turned to the side, nerves alight with the worshipping flicks of Jin’s tongue against your pulse point, you let your eyes fall shut again to just let yourself feel. With your legs wrapped around him, Jin doesn’t have much room to drive into you, so instead he rolls his hips, grinding against you in a way that drags against your g-spot every time.

Every exhale is a sigh of pleasure that drips from your open mouth, and a low vibration on your skin tells you Jin’s mumbling quietly against you, face buried into the crook of your neck as he holds tightly onto your hand.

Even with clothes between your chests, you feel closer with him than you have before, something about the lack of space between you more intimate than anything you’ve experienced on the show.

Sliding a hand around the back of his neck to keep him near, you arch your neck further to the side in hopes that the extra room will allow you to hear his panted utterances better.

Jin, however, takes this as a chance to move up again, nipping at your jaw, then around to suck dizzingly at the sensitive skin just behind it, below your lobe. Closer to your ear, though, you can hear him more, and your hands tighten even more on him, the words fluttering in your stomach like butterflies.

“-beautiful, my baby girl,” he coos, gasping out praises through rolls of his hips, “so perfect. Feel so good for me. Doing so well.”

You hitch out a moan as the lower hem of his shirt slips down between you, dragging just beside your clit, and you feel your mind go numb with need. “Seo-Seokjinnie, I need more, please,” you whine, arching your hips to meet him.

With a hard swallow, he pulls away from your ear, bracing himself against the bed with the hand that’s clasping yours, and reaches the other down to where you need him most.

You cry out, feeling your high approaching the moment his fingers strum at your clit, making you tremble. “R-right there, oh god, I’m so close,” you gasp out.

“Baby,” Jin calls through pants of exertion, “fuck, me too, want you to cum for me.”

As your orgasm approaches steadily, the coil in your stomach moments away from snapping, he bends down to reclaim your mouth one last time.

It’s not the length inside you or the fingers rubbing at your clit that send you over the edge. It’s the way his fingers lock around yours so tight yet his lips are so gentle on you, that sensual contrast of domestic and needy.

You cry out when you cum, clenching rhythmically around him with the force of it, and it’s mere moments later that he shudders once, and begins to spill into you, rocking his hips all the while to work you through it.

Even as he’s splayed above you, he holds all his weight on your entwined hands, letting your chest heave freely as the tremors flood through to your toes.

In the force of your combined orgasms, neither of you have the mental capacity to kiss each other, but your mouths never separate, gasping air from the other’s lungs like you’ll suffocate without.

The aftershocks last a while, your limbs feeling weak and head lofty once they finally settle. However, before you can fully come back to your senses, a sudden loud bang makes the two of you startle, Jin hissing when you clench around him.

Behind Jin’s locked door, the unmistakeable chipper voice of Jung Hoseok cries out. “Breakfaaaast! Stop fucking; it’s breakfast time!”

You groan, head dropping back limply onto the sheets. “What the fuck,” you grunt, “isn’t he meant to know not to interrupt a scene from his days in the dungeon or something?”

Jin stiffens, face going uncharacteristically blank as he pulls out of you and stands back up. Your legs unlatch from around him and you clench automatically, trying to avoid any of his cum from dripping out onto the sheets. “Sorry,” he says off-handedly as he untangles his fingers from yours, stepping away to tuck himself back into his pyjama pants. “I’m going to have a shower; just tell them to set some aside for me. Or not. I don’t mind.”

You sit up, frowning at his sudden dismissive behaviour. Like he senses your confusion, his shoulders drop, a hand rubbing over his face tiredly. “Are you alright?” you question, stepping gingerly off the bed to go seek out your panties.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, this time his voice coloured with honesty. “I didn’t realise you saw that as a scene, that’s all. But I understand.”

Your chest sinks as you stand a metre apart, feeling a distance far greater than that between you. “I- That isn’t what I meant, I was just saying Hoseok should’ve known not to interrupt-”

“It’s okay,” he cuts in, brows immediately knitting as if he’s displeased with his own interruption, “could we talk about this later? I want to be honest and open with you, but I need a bit of time to think first. I’ll see you later.”

He’s shut the door before you can process his words, but gently, like he wants to make clear he’s not slamming it. It provides you no comfort, howevever, and rather than showering yourself, you run to your room and put some pants and a fresh shirt on, hurrying downstairs so that your mind doesn’t get the chance to dwell.

Breakfast helps take your mind off it.

It’s easy to let yourself soak up the surroundings; focussing on the others around the table instead of yourself.

Namjoon has the hiccups for a solid half an hour, and every unannounced hic makes the table burst into another peal of laughter, until Taehyung finally gives him a sufficient fright to quell them.

Jungkook regales the rest of you with a (periodically interrupted) story of how he got his thumb stuck in the faucet of his bathroom and had to call out for Taehyung, whose room was just beside his, to come bring some butter and ease it out.

“And then we wanted to test if Jungkook’s thumb was bigger than mine,” Taehyung adds, “so I put my thumb up the faucet and turns out, they’re actually pretty similar sizes.”

Although the masseuse boasts this fact proudly, Jimin scrunches his face up. “So… yours got stuck up there, too?”

Taehyung deflates. “Yeah.”

“But we already had the butter,” Jungkook points out. “So it was fine.”

Jimin pinches the bridge of his nose, like the anecdote physically pains him to hear, and the conversation shifts once again.

Throughout, your eyes can’t help but return over and over again to Yoongi. Jaw tense, eyes calculating yet flighty, and shifting in his seat every few minutes as if he can’t get comfortable.

He notices your gaze, probably because he’s looking your way just as often as you’re looking his, and makes a visible effort to relax. Mulling over his odd behaviour, you’re reminded of the strange text conversation the two of you had the other day. Yoongi had wanted to revise your limits, seemingly out of nowhere; he even asked you in advance to stay in his room the night of his scene so he could make sure you were alright, though he wouldn’t specify what day.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re in for it today.

For the most part, you’re happy letting the boys surprise you, but your curiosity just lifts higher and higher for Yoongi this week every time you’ve seen or spoken with him. He’s all in black today; more formal than usual with black fitted trousers and a high-necked black sweater. Roleplays and dynamics, you remind yourself. Though Yoongi always dressed pretty nicely, he wasn’t one to don dress casual attire, and it has your mind scrambling for answers. Lawyer? CEO? Professor? Truthfully, it could be anything like that - provided this even was a costume choice for his prompt and not just him wanting to dress nicely today.

Putting the thought aside, and trying not to read too much into his odd shifting on the seat, you grab another slice of bacon from the table (Yoongi had apparently shown off his Western cooking skills this morning yet again) and slip back into the flow of conversation.

In the end, Jin comes downstairs before you finish eating. Automatically, you feel your heart begin to thud sickly, but to your surprise he walks past your chair and squeezes your shoulder with a fond smile before sitting down at the end of the table. Clearly far more cheerful, his face is freshly washed and his his hair still damp as he immediately digs in to any and all of the food still left on the table.

It surprises you to see him seemingly unbothered by your word-slip this morning, but upon your inquisitive glance, he just sends you a nod of acknowledgement, mouthing it’s okay at you around a mouthful of rice.

You go lax with relief, though a small voice in the back of your mind nags you, what if it isn’t? What if he’s just pretending to save face and make things less awkward? There’s not much you can do here, not with a crowd of unassuming housemates chattering away, but you try to take a mental note to have a conversation about it later with Jin. He’d appreciate that, you think.

“Are you alright?”

You glance up suddenly at the concerned voice, but it isn’t directed at you. Beside you, Namjoon frowns at Yoongi as the older man shifts in his seat once more.

“Just… feeling a bit uncomfortable,” he admits stiffly, legs splayed with one bouncing restlessly.

Hoseok snickers behind his fork, but makes no further comment. Namjoon, however, still seems genuinely worried for the doctor. “Maybe you should get some air,” he suggests lightly, eyes drooping in sympathy, “there’s a really nice gazebo just out back by the flower beds?”

Yoongi’s tongue slips out to wet the corner of his mouth, and pauses. He blinks once, then his whole demeanor shifts, letting out a heavy sigh even as his eyes light up. “Good idea, Joon,” he allows with a small smile, “though I better not go alone. Y/n; would you mind accompanying me?”

You know he knows that you see right through him; the twinkle in his eyes as they rest on you speaks clearly. But then again, you also know that he knows that you have no real idea of what exactly he’s planning on doing with you. That mixed adrenaline of being in on the naughty little secret, as well as having no clue what really was coming, stirs excitement in your stomach, and you find yourself on your feet before you’ve even fully processed his words.

True to what Namjoon said, the gazebo is really nice. Trellis on two sides with winding strands of climber plants are studded with small flowers in white and pale blue, the sun still streams in through the two open sides, providing wooden benches warmed from the rays.

You don’t sit, though, as you face Yoongi. Your pulse races and core throbs, but he holds you in that electric silence, eyes running over your figure shamelessly.

“You remember the safewords?” You nod at Yoongi’s quiet but firm voice, closer to a statement than a question. He doesn’t even look you in the eye, instead licking his lips wolfishly as he admires you, making you shift from the fierce attention. Yoongi grunts in acknowledgement. “Good. I hope these clothes you’re wearing aren’t expensive.”

You frown at him, lost, but he’s tilting his head to the side suddenly, gaze locked between your legs. Even as you instinctively glance down, you feel it before you see it.

A thin stripe of wetness, trailing down your inner thigh past your shorts. The off-white colour and thick consistency is unmistakeable, as is the wetness of your panties. Your cheeks flood as Yoongi tsks, raising a brow.

“I see someone beat me to the prize this morning. Let me guess; Jin?”

You open your mouth, but close it again, feeling somehow too shy to speak. Yoongi’s always been a pretty introspective guy, but never have you seen him this quietly intense before, his lips set in a line that is neither amused nor disappointed. You nod instead.

Even as he lets out a minute sigh, his hand leaves his side, and your breath catches in your chest as you feel a fingertip collecting the trail, all the way up to the sodden seam of your panties, and pulls back.

Holding it in between both your faces, Yoongi’s eyes observe the older man’s cum as it pools on the pad of his finger. There’s something so dirty, so taboo about the sight that you have to smother a sob of need at the sight, but you’re unable to muffle a guttural groan as he dips that same finger into his own mouth, sucking it off with a pop.

“Yoongi, fuck,” you breathe, feeling lightheated even though he’s barely touched you.

His hand drops, eyes latching back onto yours sharply. “Guess I’ll have to fuck him out of you. Claim you as mine.”

Your eyes widen, heart racing. “Yoongi…” You don’t even know what else to say, mind blank with desire.

He grins, and the primal satisfaction in his eyes has you dampening your panties even more than Jin’s cum already has. “Perhaps if you scream loud enough, he’ll hear you from inside.”

You squeak as he rushes you, chest pressed against yours and an arm under your ass, lifting you off the ground as he walks back. Feeling air rush around you and the sun suddenly pierce into your eyes, you clutch onto Yoongi as he kneels down and drops you softly but suddenly onto the lush bed of grass, warmed from the sun.

With eyes wide with shock, you watch as Yoongi reaches for your shirt. Without a moment to process him fisting the fabric, you hear it rip from the neck down, until the two torn fronts lay over your arms, bra exposed. “Yoongi!” you cry, not angry so much as startled, but he’s not done.

With a sneer and a grunt of exertion, he rips away your bra too, the lack of an underwire on the lacy garment making it too easy for him to tear away. Like a man possessed, he tugs off your shorts, jerking your body as the waistband is roughly pulled past your hips, and by the time his fingers dig into the sodden fabric of your panties to shred them too, your whole body is on fire with arousal.

His black shirt and pants, once reminding you of a rich CEO or classy lawyer, now seem to fit him like the pelt of a wolf or the sleek fur of a panther, his eyes pinning you back onto the grass. His hands are all over you, nails digging in like claws to make you shiver. “I’m going to ruin you, little dove,” he promises. “But first; I’m sick of smelling another man’s cum on you.”

With the sun blazing down on you, a cool breeze peaking your bared nipples, you can barely comprehend what he’s doing when he backs away, further from the shelter of the gazebo. Not until he lowers himself down, wraps a iron-tight grip around your ankle and tugs you down to meet him halfway as his mouth descends on you.

Instead of where you expect, however, you feel his lips sucking up your thigh, cleaning up the drips that have run down since. “God, Yoongi,” you start, but he chastises your whining by replacing lips with teeth, biting harshly into the sensitive flesh.

You cry out wordlessly, hand reaching down to fist in his hair. His mouth finally finds your core, and his flicking tongue is just as sharp as his teeth, and more deft.

It’s sinful; the way you can feel his tongue digging into you, sucking out Jin’s cum like his life depends on it. Every lash of it runs over your swollen clit, thighs trembling.

There’s no one around, and your cries echo strangely in the open air, making you feel small. One of Yoongi’s hands reaches up to paw roughly at your breast, tweaking at the nipple until you try to bat him away. The lazy late-morning breeze, the soft blades of grass, the scrapes of Yoongi’s teeth on your folds as he eats you out like a man starved. These things don’t seem like they should ever be together, yet it’s so deliciously addictive to be pinned to the ground like this, Yoongi’s grunts mixing with your moans.

You tighten your grip in his hair, jumping when he sinks his teeth into your inner thigh in reproach, mirroring the earlier one surely enough to bruise.

Marking you, you realise. Claiming you.

Though any trace of the cum inside you must surely have been tongued away, Yoongi doesn’t slow down for a minute, determined to make you scream as promised.

Now that the pretence of cleaning you out has been surpassed, he targets your clit, sucking and flicking and grazing until you’re a shivering mess, unable to think about anything but him between your legs, and the orgasm that is so close you can almost taste it.

Your thighs still throb with the memory of his teeth, and even as they ache, you long for more. You try your luck with a gasped breath. “Y-Yoongi, please!”

The moment he sucks your clit between his teeth and nips, your vision goes white, the moan halfway out of your throat morphing into a strangled stream as you tug at his hair, seeking out more pleasure to ride your high.

His hand doesn’t stop its assault on your breast as you cum violently beneath him, and the tugging at your nipple makes your spine go taut in an arch, the climax rushing through you quick and hot, nothing like the slow flowing warmth of your orgasm earlier this morning. It’s over almost as soon as it takes you, and you let out a cry when the stimulation quickly turns into needle-like sharpness.

“Too much,” you gasp, but he acts like he hasn’t heard you, laving his tongue over your overstimulated clit like he's addicted to it.

It’s only once you begin to physically push at him, his shoulders and head, that he sits up, grinning down at you as you pant.

The entire bottom half of his face from the tip of his nose down is glossy with your arousal, and his hair is tangled from you clutching at it. He looks positively wild, drunk off your core, and the thought itself makes a moan rumble deep in your throat.

You brace your trembling arms on either side of you and shift up onto your hands, ragged shirt immediately slipping down to pool at your wrists. “Holy shit, Yoongi,” you enthuse, the intensity of your orgasm still hazy in your mind even if it’s left your body.

“Oh, you think that was me ruining you? You think I’m done?” Something in Yoongi’s eyes glints, something primal. He sits back on his heels. “Run, little dove.”

You pause for a moment, even as his words lick at your core with arousal. He wanted you to run, so that he could chase you. So that he could catch you and ruin you like he promised, like he warned.

You swallow, stumble to your feet with shaky knees, and take off.

With clothes shredded, you have no choice but to dart away, naked, and the thought of any of the others seeing you through the glass from inside makes your heart beat faster.

The you an hour ago would have shied away at the full nudity, perhaps, but you feel high on adrenaline and arousal, and so you aim your path boldly towards the back door of the house.

Feet thumping against the grass, you slow to a stop to glance behind you. No longer on his knees, Yoongi is brushing off his pants, eyes narrowed and blazing like twin suns as he takes off right towards you.

Another streak of excitement rushes through you, the absurdity of the situation disappearing under the need of feeling him fucking into you with abandon once he catches you.

You take off again, grass changing to concrete until you bang against the glass door, throwing it open and rushing through the kitchen.

Strangely, there’s no one in the lounge or the dining area, and as the lush diners of the carpet soothe your feet, you can’t tell whether the leap in your heart is relief or disappointment.

Your momentary pause of surprise loses you precious distance, and you squeal when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Whirling away from Yoongi’s grip, you stumble back into a run, feeling the impact of his feet on the floor right behind you all the way.

In the end, you make it to the base of the stairs before his hands reach you again.

Your knees buckle only the stairs with a jarring thud, and you catch yourself, sprawled on the incline of the stairs.

You cry out when a hand buries itself in your hair, Yoongi’s legs straddling you and hips pressing you down as he tugs your head back. The growl that emerges from his throat is nothing short of animalistic as he runs his nose up your throat to nip roughly at your earlobe.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, little dove,” the doctor warns in a gravelly voice, “so hold still.”

As you tremble beneath him, Yoongi darts out his tongue to lick one slow stripe up the side of your face possessively, before he lets go of your hair and shifts back.

Impatiently, you hear him slip his pants down just enough to expose his cock, and he swears gruffly under his breath, spitting into his palm to slick himself up with a few quick strokes.

Like you’re lighter than air, Yoongi grabs your hips and lifts them up so that your knees rest on a higher step. “Wider,” he snaps, and you rush to obey with a whimper, feeling exposed on your hands and knees, right where anyone coming downstairs could see you.

Perhaps because he knows Jin must’ve stretched you out earlier, or perhaps he just wants to stay in character, but the moment he lines himself up with your entrance, he’s pounding into you without abandon.

Too fucked out to even notice the level of your voice, you cry out with every thrust, the sound punctuated by his hips slapping against you.

You can’t think of anything but his cock in you, the growls leaving his throat, his fingers digging into your hips almost enough to bruise. Your mouth doesn’t close, a trail of drool collecting under your chin but there’s nothing inside you to care.

With all your other scenes, no matter how intense, there’s been a degree of restraint, most of the guys only having been with you once. But with Yoongi, and the safety net of your safe words and limits he so carefully reminded you both of.

All you can feel is unbidden pleasure. Every thrust is intense enough to make your toes curl, but you’re drunk on it, pushing your hips back to meet each one and feel him even deeper inside you.

His hand finds your hair again, gathering a handful to tug back, and you curse as his mouth meets your throat again, lips latching harshly onto the part where your neck meets your collarbone, sucking deeply, teeth nipping, undoubtedly enough to leave a mark that would stick around for who knows how long.

“They’ll see,” he growls, “I’m gonna breed you, little dove, and then they’ll know who you belong to. One of them could come down the stairs right now, and know that I’m the one that owns this precious little pussy of yours.” He’s huffing now, panting with the energy he’s spending on ravaging you so deeply, but his voice is as intoxicating as ever, “Would you like that, hm? Like them to watch me fuck you full of my cum?”

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you cry out hopelessly, and your nails dig into the fibres of the carpet harshly as your orgasm approaches. “Y-Yes, want you to fill me!”

His thrusts get impossibly faster and your jaw slackens even more, eyes rolling back with the inescapable pleasure you feel. You’re so close, but before you can cum, you feel Yoongi begin to spill in you.

Instead of stopping however, he just snaps his hips more, fucking the cum into you messily, growled words of dirty praise as you feel it drip down the backs of your thighs, the increased slickness of his thrusting making it obscenely loud.

You pant, desperately chasing your high, and suddenly you feel Yoongi’s hand in your hair shift, reaching out to wrap his fingers around your throat.

Not pressing enough to cut off air, but enough to make your breaths shallower, he bends down to whisper in your ear. “Cum for me now, little dove.”

On command, your body falls apart, legs shaking and spine arching from the whitehot pleasure. Your elbows buckle, and it’s actually Yoongi’s hand on your throat that keeps your chin banging into the stairs below, letting you down carefully even as he fucks you through your orgasm; slow, measured thrusts to strike your g-spot as you soak his cock even further with your juices.

Feeling tears of pleasure pricking at your eyes, all the energy in your body evaporates as he finally takes his hand away and the unrestricted air rushes into your lungs.

You shiver when he pulls out, feeling oddly vulnerable and exposed, even though you were no more naked or debauched than when you’d ran here. Exhausted from your second orgasm, that erotic haze begins to dissipate, and you can’t picture how you ever had the brazenness to dash through the house and backyard naked.

It’s strange how quickly the atmosphere shifts out of that animalistic delight. Even as aftershocks make your clit throb, a part of you wants to curl up and not face the world. You indulge this, burying your face into the crook of your arm, but then there are hands on you, soft and soothing and nothing like the clawed hands that unraveled you so entirely before.

“Hey, sweetheart,” a warm tone calls out, “are you still with me?”

“Mm,” you mumble ungracefully, but Yoongi takes that as the affirmative.

“Okay, I’m going to lift you up now, yeah? I’m taking you to my room for some privacy.”

You don’t have the energy to nod, so you make a noise of confirmation again, letting deceptively strong arms pick you up off the stairs, carefully navigating you into his hold as he makes his way upstairs one step at a time.

Everything seems a little light and fuzzy, and it’s easier to let your eyes slip closed and Yoongi to do the heavy lifting - quite literally - so you do just that. It’s the cold touch of a made bed against the naked skin of your back that brings back some clarity, and you shift, eyes blinking open again dizzily.

Yoongi’s rushing away, coming back with a blanket to tuck over you, your head propped up on a pillow. “Still feeling fuzzy?”

You do manage to nod this time. You could speak, but the idea itself seems too energy-sapping to bear much thinking about. Yoongi seems more than capable to do the talking himself.

He smiles brightly at your response, taking your hand in his comfortingly. The predatorial glint in his eyes is gone, replaced by focus and intent, carefully monitoring you. Even his caring attention alone feels rejuvenating.

“I shouldn’t have, but I’m going to make sure I haven’t broken the skin anywhere, okay? Just bare with me, sweetheart, you did so well.”

In the end, it takes what must be half an hour of Yoongi checking you over, getting you to sip at some water, and clothing you in some old flannel pyjamas of his so you were warm - the bulky socks were itchy, but they still helped - before your mind feels cleared enough to speak.

It’s strange, coming back from a tough scene like that. You remember Hoseok mentioning something about subdrop before. When all the high emotions and adrenaline of a scene drop away like low tide, leaving your mind sometimes feeling at sea even if your body was back on shore. Eventually, though, with the care of the kind doctor, you feel yourself again, cosy and happy bundled up in his clothes and a warm blanket.

“I’m okay now,” you croak out, voice rusty no doubt from your pleasured cries just before. “I’m good. And it was good, too. It was exciting.”

Yoongi’s brows furrow, glancing up at you from where he’s bending over at the bedside, slipping off a grass-stained shoe. Only after he’d made completely sure you were okay did he even begin to think about himself, and the thought just warms your heart. Yoongi, though, still seems to worry. “It wasn’t too much? I wasn’t sure if I was pushing it too far, even if it was within your-”

“I liked it, Yoongi, and I felt safe,” you insist truthfully, shuffling over to make room for him on his bed. “You know I would’ve said red if I needed to. Or yellow.” You bite down on your lip as the springs in the mattress shift, Yoongi still in his rumpled turtleneck and trousers decidedly less alpha male as he tugs a corner of the blanket over his lap. Your knees bump together, and you find yourself leaning into his side, drinking in the physical contact. “Did… Did you like it?”

Yoongi stays silent for a moment, but you know it’s just because he likes organising his thoughts before speaking. “It was pretty different to my usual,” he admits, “though perhaps not as much as you’d think. There were certainly aspects I enjoyed very much, and others I perhaps don’t feel a need to repeat.”

“Like?” you question.

His shoulder shifts beneath your head, a hand coming up to brush at the tender spot on your neck. “I like marking you up. Making you cum. Though I must admit, I just about popped a hip back there. I think I’m too old for the real kinky shit now.”

You scoff, pushing at his shoulder playfully. “I doubt that. I would say eating Jin’s cum out of me is pretty kinky, and you loved that.”

“I-” Yoongi’s voice of protest is cut off by his own reluctant laugh. “Fine, sure, you got me. I guess I am kinda setting a streak there, huh?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug noncommittally, “you could always find someone else’s cum to enjoy. Get a little variety.”

Yoongi makes a noise of indignation. “You little shit! Don’t kinkshame! You’re the one that fell apart as soon as I put my hand around your throat. We’re as bad as each other.”

You laugh, punching him lightly but letting him get the win. The two of you fall into silence for a few moments, before you sigh lightly. “I think Jin’s angry at me,” you offer up.

To your surprise, Yoongi matches your sigh, like he knows something too. His arm wraps around your waist, tugging you close as he rests his chin on the crown of your head. “He’s just fond of you, sweetheart. Well; we all are, I suppose. But Jin is trying really hard to be the voice of objectivity, and I think he’s struggling with that a bit right now. It’s not you. I promise you that.” You hum, still feeling a poke of guilt in your gut. Unsatisfied, Yoongi presses on. “I suggested he see a therapist.”

Perhaps, when you think of Yoongi, that’s something that will always make your heart warm first. He knows when to be serious, and when to joke, and either way he never fails to comfort you, to make you laugh.

So when Yoongi asks you to stay, not just tonight but for the rest of the afternoon, you don’t hesitate for a moment. There’s nothing you want more than his company.

#yoongi smut #bts x reader #jin smut #bts smut #yoongi x reader #ficswithluv #jin x reader #minthlynet #thekimlinenet #magicshopnet #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #btswritersnet #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #bangtanidx #bangtanfairygarden #hyungsmutsociety

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wormtoxin · 3 years

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I wanna talk about! Female friendships in horror!

It’s no secret that since it’s inception, horror media has centered women. The horror genre as a whole was either invented or heavily influenced by the work of Mary Shelley during early literature, and the horror films have nearly always featured a titular women, whether or not the story properly centers her interiority. (Yhara Zayd has a video essay about this, as well as many other excellent video essays on the subject on her channel if you’re curious).

Whether it’s as the victims of voyeurs and slashers, heroic survivors, or the killers themselves, women have always been important to most horror media. There’s even a name for this phenomena, the Final Girl.

But the particular aspect of this I want to talk about is Female Friendship in Horror. Female characters in horror are usually under a considerable amount of duress.

On the rare occasion that there is more than a single girl character in a horror movie, girls tend to form a very unique relationship. Two women, when threatened by the same violent or supernatural terror, cling to each other for dear life- often literally. As a result, these friendships become very intimate very quickly. Another unique aspect of these relationships is a certain toxicity, often brought about because of one or both girls’ involvements with the supernatural forces threatening them. I want to use two examples: The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson, and Karyn Kusama’s film: Jennifer’s Body.

These female friendships go back at least as far as 1959, with the publication of Shirley Jackson’s “The Haunting of Hill House”. While Hill House and it’s architecture are the most obvious threat within the book. When, during the night, an invisible force wanders the halls and knocks on the door of each bedroom, the main character Eleanor takes comfort with Theo, the eccentric and exuberant psychic living in the house with her. The other two (male) residents of the house volunteer take up active roles, deciding to protect the two women from the ghosts. However, it is Theo who most directly comforts, cheers, and consoles Eleanor.

As a result, Eleanor quickly becomes infatuated with Theo. She sleeps in her bedroom for comfort at night, and spends time with her out on the grounds of Hill House during the day. Theo offers for Eleanor to come and live with her after their stay at Hill House is over, and Eleanor dreams and fantasizes about this future often, imagining the furniture and particularly the kitchenware they’ll share. Before arriving at Hill House, Eleanor has spent her entire adult life caring for her terminally ill mother, and has no friends, save for her antagonistic sister. she comes to Hill House as the very first expression of her newfound freedom when her mother dies. As a result, Theo is the first person to show her genuine care and affection.

This is the first aspect of female friendships in horror. Because of the duress, fear, and stress any character in a horror novel is bound to experience (and which horror media always seems to level with particular voyeuristic glee at women), women in horror come to be very close very quickly. These female friendships are incredibly intense, almost romantic. Women, both in horror movies and in real-life, find physical and emotional comfort in each other’s presence. This comfort is born out of a mutual understanding of what it’s like to be pursued and tormented, particularly as women in a misogynistic setting. Myself, and plenty of other women, find catharsis and comfort in these relationships. Like the protagonist of a slasher, women know what it’s like to feel afraid and threatened by forces outside of our control, and to commiserate with other women about that fear.

Jennifer’s Body takes this a step further, in allowing it’s two teenaged protagonists to flirt and share a kiss. The romantic subtext within Jennifer’s Body is brought explicitly to the surface. Even it’s director, Karyn Kusama, when talking about the film says that her “female friendships were so intense, even romantic at times”. (I am having trouble finding her exact quote about the movie, if anyone can locate that interview please let me know).

However, The Haunting of Hill House and Jennifer’s Body are labelled as horror for a reason. Each escalates the horror (a haunted house and demonic posession, respectively) to it’s natural conclusion. Horror is powerful because it’s characters are at the precipice of destruction, and the most powerful expressions of horror follow through on that promise. As The Haunting of Hill House continues, Eleanor’s relationship with Theo grows. Eleanor becomes, at once, obsessed with the imagined future Theo has promised her, and resentful of Theo. She falls for Theo, and at the same time, hates her for failing to reciprocate Eleanor’s own intense level of affection. At the usual nights spent drinking together in the parlor, Eleanor begins to see Theo’s comforts as increasingly hurtful jabs. And as Eleanor becomes increasingly unwell throughout the book, she begs Theo to promise to live with her, and when Theo refuses, Eleanor hates her.

Female relationships formed under duress become intense and powerful, but under that same stress, develop into toxic relationships. Jennifer’s Body, right from the start, is about these intoxicating-yet-toxic friendships between girls. The titular Jennifer puts Needy down in order to make herself seem more interesting and attractive by comparison. At the same time, Jennifer is ultimately more insecure (and, well, needy) than Needy. While Needy has a lot of success with men and a healthy, stable relationship with her boyfriend, Jennifer constantly works to intercept her relationships and to vy for Needy’s affection to boost her own ego (and, explicitly, to capture Needy’s romantic attention for herself).

These two works, as pieces of horror written by women, detail three tiers of increasingly feminist discourse on female relationships. First, misogynistic horror views women as objects to be tormented, watched, sexualized, and ultimately killed for the benefit of the viewer. Secondly, more feminist works of horror treat their women characters as sympathetic, or even empathetic. Viewers identify with the female characters not as a passive symbol of victimhood, but as people who need comfort, safety, and who actively work to help and provide for each other. Finally, and in my opinion, the most interesting and respectful to it’s female characters, is the third tier of feminist horror. Works like The Haunting of Hill House and Jennifer’s Body recognize that the women within their novels are more than passive victims, and even more than saints and martyrs for viewers to root for. They each recognize that women can also be a serious threat to themselves and each other. Since these works go the furthest in realizing these women as people through exploration of their interpersonal relationships, they realize both their strengths AND their faults. Women, like other human beings of any gender, are imperfect.

Women and men alike adore Final Girls in their many different forms. It’s cathartic to identify with someone else’s fear and distress, and to watch them overcome and outlast that threat. However, real acknowledgement of women’s interiority also recognizes complexity, and that sometimes women are a threat to each other. And, for me, the works which recognize and hold all three to be true without any diminishing the other are some of the most enjoyable and complex works of emotional horror I’ve ever encountered. I don’t have a final note beyond that to end on. I just think it’s neat.

#horror #women in horror #uhhh sorry to write a whole essay #I'll throw this under a read more i guess #i had a lot of fun writing it though!!#Sorry it's not the cleanest #but I have real schoolwork and chores I'm putting off #anyways! hope you're having a good day

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that-otome-potato · 3 years

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Showing Love

Pairing: Kokuyou x Reader is intended, but I left it vague in case you felt it was more fitting for one of your guys! Rating: SFW - fluff? Notes: This just kind of started writing itself in my head this afternoon at work and I had to get it written down before I forgot.

I actually did a drabble! Sorry if it doesn’t really make a lot of sense... it made sense in my head and I needed to make room in there for more stuff lol. And I intended this to not really be a specific guy, Kokuyou is just who I had in mind while writing it. If you pictured someone else, please share! I’m curious who you pictured in this!

~*~

He would never say the words out loud.

There were never grandiose declarations of love, no loud proclamations or obvious signs of his affection to those around him.

His love was intense, passionate, private.

His love was in the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking; How his eyes glowed with the emotion he felt deep in his heart where no one could touch it. You could see it in the crinkle at the corners of his eyes when you pulled a rare smile from him that softened all of his facial features.

His love was in the small gifts that he would place in your bag that you left in the office, in the little desserts he would leave next to you while you were paying attention to something else, acting like a secret admirer who was vying for your attentions. He knew that he was so much more to you, and he knew you told him often, but this was his way of showing you how he cared. Showing you his love.

His love was the affection and devotion proclaimed in the way he kissed you - changing how he pressed his lips against yours, licking and nibbling, taking sips before devouring you like a hungry beast.

His love was in his whispered words in the dark of night or away from prying eyes. The ‘I love you’’s before you closed your eyes at night, or in the midst of shared passions. The sweet nothings for your ears only in the privacy you can only find while cuddling beneath blankets at his apartment or yours.

His love was in the press of his long fingers into your flesh, in the way you both melded together in your most intimate moments. Slow and sensual, hard and fast, always making you both gasp and clutch each other closer as if to keep the other from leaving, knowing you couldn’t be with out the other.

His love was protecting you from everything with all the power he had in him. Protecting you when someone tried to attack you for the umpteenth time since coming to Starless. It was standing up for you when others wouldn’t. It was being there when you needed him most, a shoulder to cry on, some one to pick you up when you fell down.

You may be more vocal about your affections towards him in public, sometimes bringing a lovely flush to his strong features, but his feelings towards you shouted louder than any other sound you had ever heard.

#bsts kokuyou #bsts fanfic #my work #my words

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angelatmidnight1 · 3 years

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hey there! so glad you're back, and happy new years btw!! idk if you're taking prompts atm so don't feel like you have to write this straight away (since you just posted a new fanfic anyway, and it was worth the wait as always), but i was thinking maybe you could write something with wattson and loba? because on this current season, loba is trying to be nicer to her, to kind of make up for the S5 accident, and i mean we love to see that character development lol. cheers!

A/N: Hi, happy (very late) New Years! I’ve actually picked up Loba as my secondary main, so I was really excited to write for both her and Wattson. This story is based on quest events from season 5 and onward, as well as the Legends’ dialogue mainly between Loba, Wattson, and Crypto (this video kind of shows the lines, but I couldn't find the one I originally watched). I was also inspired by a post from @thebliznet, which helped the story along a lot. Thank you for allowing me to mention your post and the blog! I hope this story is to your liking anon :). I had fun writing it.

Unleashing Your Inner Wolf- After Wattson’s accident, Loba has kept a watchful eye over her. This is especially true after Revenant has sworn to ruin the thief’s life. When the murderous simulacrum joined the Apex Games, Loba was hellbent on killing him herself. But, this wasn’t a job she had to do alone. Loba had all of the Legends wrapped around her fingers with the dirt she had on them, and she was pleased to have them at her disposal. The job was simple: find the artifacts she needed, locate Revenant’s source code, and end his miserable existence. So, when Wattson wandered into the building alone to retrieve an artifact, her plans literally went up in flames. Not only was she further away from what she wanted, someone nearly died, and it wasn’t the demonio. Loba secretly thanks the gods for Wattson’s recovery; the engineer has a harsher view of the world now, yes, but she’s alive. It was the first and last time that Loba would put someone in danger on her behalf. After having her as a teammate during a couple of games, Loba discovers some new, interesting information: Wattson spends a great deal of time speaking with Crypto. And, the thief finds their nervous, awkward interactions absolutely adorable. Loba decides to take the engineer under her wing to teach her the art of flirting. But first, she has to teach her the most important lesson out there: self love. Wattson finds her lessons a bit unorthodox, and is reluctant to open up. So, Loba’s first job is getting her to smile...and maybe laugh, too.

When Crypto fell on the battlefield, Loba was quick to toss her bracelet and teleport to his aid. She had a Guardian Angel backpack and there were fences set up within their hideout to deter an enemy push. She was just slipping her bracelet back on when someone else rounded the corner and ran over to the downed hacker. It was Wattson, who put her Interception Pylon in the center of the room to deny incoming projectiles. The engineer heard an angry “bloody hell” from the explosive expert outside, which made her grin inwardly. Natalie knelt down and rubbed her hands together to generate a charge. Unlike the rest of the Legends, the engineer revived her teammates by using her equipment like a defibrillator.

“Got you Tae J---ohhh…” Instead of pulling him up, Wattson accidentally dropped him back onto the floor, covering her mouth with both hands. Crypto landed with a heavy thump and a groan.

“Ugh, Natalie..” The hacker winced, prompting her to start the revive again, her mind still racing to finish her sentence.

“J...Joules and Watts are tied for my favorite units of measurements. And yours?” Natalie giggled nervously after she successfully pulled the man back onto his feet. She looked over her shoulder to see Loba staring at them like they each had two heads. But then, the enemy Bangalore shot at her through the window, giving the engineer and hacker a welcome distraction.

“...I’ll get better at this. I promise.” Wattson smiled and pushed a Phoenix Kit into Crypto’s hands. Crypto sighed and put the healing item to use, giving her a small smile of his own.

“Thank you, Natalie.” Tae Joon huddled in the corner of the room to stay out of enemy sights. This prompted Natalie to put another fence at the doorway that would lead to them. No one was going to get in and hurt her friend; not if she had something to say about it! So, when she heard someone approaching, Wattson immediately pointed her Mastiff at the door, ready to take down whoever managed to slip in. She yelped and fired at the thief when she stuck her head in; fortunately, there was no friendly fire allowed in the Games.

“Relax, it’s just me.” Loba frowned and walked further into the room. “The whole squad’s down and a wall of death is coming our way. We need to move.”

“Got it!” Wattson hopped to her feet and offered a hand to the hacker. Crypto reached up to take it but froze, looking over Natalie’s shoulder. For some reason, the thief was still looking at them. The engineer arched a brow and, since she didn’t see what he saw, she grabbed onto his hand anyway. “Let’s go, Crypto. Allons-y!”

Crypto stood without a word and followed the engineer out of the room. Wattson didn’t release his hand even when they were well inside the ring. The hacker cleared his throat and gave the woman’s hand a gentle, but urgent squeeze, and she promptly let go of him. But, since Loba was trailing behind them, she saw everything, and a knowing smirk graced her lips.

Loba found the engineer in her room after the match was over. Her high heels sounding throughout the hallway announced her arrival way before she did. So, by the time the thief sauntered to her doorway, Wattson was already facing her.

“Ah, there’s the little heart breaker in the making…” Loba grinned and leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed against her chest. The engineer furrowed her brows and pushed her organized clutter further back onto her desk.

“Huh? What’re you talking about?” Wattson appeared even more confused as she approached her. Loba glanced to the woman’s desk; besides the textbooks and random sticky notes everywhere, the thief didn’t see any obvious signs of a romantic rendezvous. No roses, no letters, and worse: no shiny trinkets.

“I used to think hand holding was a dying art. No more lingering touches, or a bat of the eye. Nowadays it’s just sloppy grabbing, a couple minutes of heavy breathing, and then...nothing.” Loba let out a wistful sigh as stood behind the younger woman, putting her hands on her shoulders. “It’s all quite dull, if you ask me. But then, I saw you and Crypto holding hands…”

The realization hit Wattson and her face turned pink. For a moment, she was at a loss for words, so the thief continued. “And it was so refreshing to see. It’s subtle. Innocent. And yet...intimate. Especially with the right person.”

Wattson hopped out of her chair and faced the thief, her pink face quickly turning red. “I...I didn’t...I wasn’t...he was injured!” She stammered, suddenly unable to meet Loba’s teasing gaze. “I only held his hand to make sure he was okay!”

“Oh, of course, beautiful. That’s kind of you..” Loba chuckled and stepped in front of her. She knelt down, “In fact, it was so kind that it must’ve stuck with him the whole time he watched you walk away~.”

Wattson looked up with a gasp and finally met her gaze. Her face grew even redder as she struggled to find her words again. “...Crypto and I...we--we’re just friends. That’s all. I’m sure he was just...um...w-watching my back. His drone is very useful on the battlefield.” She put a hand on the back of her neck; it was burning hot, just like her face.

Loba didn’t want the engineer to pass out on her, so she took a step back to give her some breathing room. “I can’t argue with you there. But...what do you think of him?” She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “He’s on the quieter side, I’ll have to admit. But he’s very handsome, no?”

“...Well..maybe...” Natalie toyed with the ends of her shirt as she looked to the corner of the room. There was a radio that Octane gave her a while back, and Loba caught her looking at it. This made the thief smirk again.

“Where’d you get that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a radio like that before.” Loba strutted over to the little device and picked it up. Natalie perked up and hurried over to gently take it from her.

“Oh! Octavio gave this to me. He spray painted it using my favorite colors.” The engineer visibly relaxed and finally allowed herself to smile. Loba’s eyebrows rose and, grinning, she couldn’t help but to tease her again.

“Oh, so there’s two people vying for your affection. You like to have options.” Loba giggled when the engineer’s face turned a deeper shade of red. “I like how you think. There’s so many beautiful people out there...why limit yourself to one?”

“No! It isn’t like that, really!” Natalie insisted and put her radio back down so she didn’t drop it. “I mean...Octavio and Ta---er, Crypto, are attractive, yes. But I wouldn’t flirt with them! Because...well, I...don’t know how.”

Loba wanted to laugh, but this new bit of information surprised her. She arched a brow and crossed one leg over the other. “You don’t know how?”

“Well, I know how.” The engineer corrected herself and fiddled with her hair next. “But I don’t know what to say! Plus, I don’t want to make things awkward between us.”

Loba’s eyes softened; the engineer was too cute. “Aw, it’s alright, doll. A little harmless flirting every now and then doesn’t hurt anyone. Keeps things interesting, if you ask me.” She smirked, playfully nudging her side with her elbow. Natalie stiffened and pursed her lips.

“That’s easy for you to say. You flirt with everybody.” The engineer muttered, giving her a coy smile when Loba feigned offense.

“Oh, come on, I do not flirt with everyone. I’m very selective in who I choose. Not everyone is worth my time.” Loba fired back with a grin. It didn’t seem like she was winning the engineer over, so she decided to switch tactics. “I suppose you can say there’s a certain elegance to flirting. If you’d like, I’ll show you. Free of charge, of course.”

Wattson looked up at the woman skeptically. The engineer didn’t know her as well as some of her other friends, but she didn’t believe that she would steer her wrong. “Er..how do you propose to do that?”

Loba beamed at her and gestured to her closet with a manicured hand. “Put on your favorite outfit, then stop by my room.” She grinned and sauntered back out into the hallway. She looked over her shoulder and saw the uncertainty lingering in her eyes. She sighed, “Trust me, beautiful. I won’t embarrass you. I know just what you need to have whomever you like flocking over to you.”

“...Okay, Loba. I’ll be there in a moment.” Wattson smiled and waited for her to leave so that she could change clothes.

Natalie opted for a simple outfit with her favorite Nessie shirt and jeans. She stepped out of her room and closed the door behind her. Then, she wandered down the hall until she got to the thief’s room. She could hear music playing as she approached the door, and found the thief idly swaying to the beat when she stepped into the room.

Loba beckoned for the engineer to come closer, another smirk on her face. “Come on in. I don’t bite.” She snickered, her cocky smirk giving way to a small smile. “You look cute.”

“Merci. Um...so what will we be doing, exactly?” The engineer peeked behind Loba to see a pole in the corner of the room. She blinked; what on Earth was this woman planning?

“Well, before we work on making your special Legend fall for you, I think you could use a bit of a confidence boost.” Loba smiled and strode over to her pole, hooking an arm around it. “I’m going to teach you how to pole dance.”

Wattson’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates, and her face turned a bright shade of red. Loba immediately put up her hands.

“Hold on, it’s not what you think. I didn’t say you were stripping, nor does pole dancing have to involve it. This is about doing something fun, something that makes you feel sexy. Because when you feel good, you look good. And others notice it too…” Loba smiled at her hopefully and extended a hand. “Won’t you give it a try, love? If at any point you don’t like it, we stop. Simple as that.”

“Umm...a-alright…” Natalie blushed even more as she took the thief’s hand. Loba beamed excitedly and led her to the pole.

“Wonderful. Now, let’s just set the mood.” Loba had the best wireless speakers that a thief could get their hands on, and she switched the current song to something slower.

“Mmm, there we go. So! The first thing you want to do is take your dominant hand, and reach high above your head.” Loba demonstrated what Natalie needed to do on the opposite side of the pole. “Then you want to...ah, hold on.” She let go of her side of the pole and walked behind the engineer. “Make sure your shoulders are down and back, like this…”

Loba took her shoulders and gently maneuvered them in the correct position. Her nails gently brushed against them as she drew back, causing the younger woman to squeak and flinch. The thief looked down at her with an arched brow. “...What?”

“Pardon (Sorry), Loba! It’s just...your nails are long, and that tickled a bit.” Natalie smiled sheepishly and rolled her shoulders. Loba chuckled and stood behind her again.

“Oh, not a problem.” The thief put her shoulders in the correct position one more time; then, smirking, she stood back in front of her to continue the lesson. “There we go, perfect. Next, you want to stand on your toes, and take three steps with the leg closest to the pole. So, like this…”

Loba walked Wattson through the rest of the steps for a basic, fireman spin. The engineer caught on quickly but, although she was performing the moves correctly, her overall movement was pretty stiff. It didn’t help that Octane wandered down the hallway, drawn to the music, and curiously poked his head in the room. He wasn’t wearing his usual mask and was eating a candy bar; but, when he saw Natalie pole dancing, his jaw dropped...along with his snack. Thankfully, Natalie didn’t notice him because of the music and her focus; Loba, on the other hand, heard the sound and she glanced at the door. She narrowed her eyes at the daredevil, mouthing ‘get out, or you’re dead.’ She grabbed her staff and pointed it at him to show that she wasn’t messing around. Octane held up his hands and, nudging the candy bar back towards him with his leg, he picked it up and took off down the hall. After a few more spins, Wattson stood up straight and looked up at the thief.

“Loba? Did I do it right?” Natalie panted a bit and rubbed the back of her neck. Loba turned back around; the engineer got the moves down to a T, but there was still something missing. She looked so shy, so unsure of herself...and, perking up, Loba knew exactly what she needed.

“You did, and I’m impressed. I don’t see many people catch on to this sort of thing so quickly.” She complimented, slowly making her way back to her side. Wattson re-assumed the position by the pole, assuming that they were going to practice again. The thief chuckled. “There is just one, tiny thing I think you need to do…”

Wattson looked up at her and stepped away from the pole. She was flattered by the compliment...but, the mischievous glint in the she-wolf’s eyes made her falter. “Okay...what is it?”

“...Smile.” Loba grinned and latched her hand onto her hip, giving it a quick squeeze. Wattson yelped and lurched away from her hand, but Loba was quick to close the distance. When the engineer pushed her hand off of one hip, she just squeezed the other one instead. Loba already had her laughing before she even pinned her down onto the mattress behind her.

“Nohohohohoh! Nohohohoh Lohohohohba, dohohohn’t!” Natale panicked and tried to roll away from the she-wolf. She arched her back when Loba’s manicured nails found her sides, giggling loudly. “DohohoHOHOHOHN’T!”

“Don’t what?” Loba grinned and gently poked at her belly, tracing five manicured nails up and down her torso. Wattson’s giggles picked up to laughter and she bucked her hips.

“DOHOHOohohohohn’t tihihihckle mehehehehehe!” The engineer squeaked and struggled harder when the thief slipped her hand underneath her shirt, clawing at her bare stomach. “LOHOHOHOHBAHAHA!”

“Oh, that tickles? I had no idea.” Loba smirked and lifted her shirt up to give her better access to her stomach. She slowed her tickles to gentle, featherlight strokes along her tummy. This still made the engineer laugh, but not quite as hard. “Why didn’t you tell me you were ticklish before? That would’ve made things much easier.”

Natalie giggled uncontrollably and sucked in her belly to try and escape the tickles. Not only did it fail, but Loba kept up the slow, teasing pace, which sent ticklish shivers up her spine. “N-Nohohohohohoh ihhihiht wohohohohuhuhldn’t!” She tittered, another laugh escaping her as the thief gave her hips another squeeze.

“Yes it would!” Loba snickered, kneading her thumbs into the woman’s hip bones. Wattson squealed and bucked her hips, but Loba didn’t let go of them. “A smile can bring even the hardest of men, and women, to their knees, falling for you...”

The color came rushing back to Wattson’s face as she squirmed in the she-wolf’s iron-hold, giggling. “Okahahahay! Okahahahay I’ll smhihihihle MOHOHOHOHRE!” Natalie shrieked and laughed when Loba’s fingers scribbled back into her stomach. “STAHAHAHAHAH!”

“Oho, yes. You certainly will be smiling more...” Loba teased and swiped her nails from one side of her tummy to the next. She laughed at the squeal it produced, which only encouraged her to tickle faster. “You’re stuck with the big bad wolf, and she’s going to tickle you to pieces~.”

Wattson fell into a deeper fit of laughter and increased her efforts to escape. The thief’s fingers strayed away from her stomach and scritched to her lowermost ribs. Natalie’s eyes widened and her laughter went up a few pitches as she rocked side to side. “NOHOHOHOHOH! PLEHEHEHEAHAHSE DOHOHOHOHN’T!” She begged, pulling at her trapped arms repeatedly. Loba had her arms pinned underneath her thighs and despite all of her struggling, they didn’t move an inch. “LOHOHOHOBAHAHA NOHOHAHAHAHAHA!”

Loba raised a brow and grinned, suddenly swiping her nails up the entire length of her ribs. Natalie squeaked and arched her back, causing the thief to giggle. “I think this is a good spot..” She purred, resting her hands back onto her lowermost ribs. She kneaded in between the bones and moved up her ribcage. The engineer kicked her legs against the bed and laughed louder, which made the thief smirk. “Aw, does that tickle? That looks like it tickles so much..”

Wattson turned crimson at the teasing and she shook her head, filling up the room with her laughter. Her laughter was so infectious that Loba laughed along with her, poking her fingers into her uppermost ribs. “No?” She tilted her head to the side when Natalie shrieked and threw her head back, laughing. Then, grinning, the she-wolf leaned in and repeatedly tweaked those ribs. “Are you sure?”

Wattson shook her head even harder and whipped her body around, trying to avoid her long nails. When that didn’t work, she opted for attempting to buck Loba off of her...which also failed. So, the engineer continued to laugh herself silly and make futile attempts to escape. “NAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I-I MEHEHEHAHAHAN--AH!” The thief leaned over and blew a raspberry onto her bare stomach. “DOHOHOHOHN’T DOHOHOHOH THAHAHT HAHAHAAHA!”

“Do what?” Loba chuckled and blew another raspberry, snickering when the engineer bucked her hips again. She blew another raspberry on a different spot on her stomach, and then another one somewhere else. She resumed wriggling her nails on her uppermost ribs while she continued blowing on her stomach, sending the engineer on a one-way trip to hysterics.

“THAHAHAHAHT!” Wattson screamed and shut her eyes tight, her laughter sounding squeakier each time Loba’s lips made contact with her stomach. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP THAHAHAHAHT! PLEHEHEHEHEAHAHAHSE!”

Loba paused, pretending to think, only to resume tickling the younger woman’s ribs and stomach. “Hmm, what if I don’t want to stop?” She hummed, swiping her fingers back down the length of her ribcage. The engineer yelped and snorted, making Loba giggle again. “What if I find it enjoyable to make you laugh so much?”

The thief eased up on the tickling so that Natalie could speak. Wattson’s laughter died down to giggles as Loba squeezed her sides and hips. “Iheheheheheheheh ahahahahalready ahaahahahaham!” She tittered, snickering as Loba stroked her nails up her torso. Loba wriggled her nails in slow, circular motions just underneath Natalie’s ribcage, causing her to jolt and giggle harder. “I’m ahahahahalrehehehady laahahahaughihihihng!”

“So you are. But, I think I can make you laugh a little bit more, no?” Loba smirked and tickled further up her ribcage. This time, she pressed her fingertips into the bones and kneaded each rib individually. Wattson’s eyes bugged out and she squealed, dissolving back into laughter.

“NOHOHOHOHOH! YOHOHOHU DOHOHOHN’T NEEHEHEHED TOHOHOHO!” The engineer yelled, kicking her legs out again as she laughed. She twisted her torso around, but Loba kept up with her struggling and focused on the most sensitive ribs. Her laughter and squirming grew more desperate by the second, and Loba took advantage of her adorable state to lower herself back towards her stomach. By the time Wattson noticed, it was too late; Loba took a deep breath and ducked her head down, blowing a raspberry right over her navel. Natalie shrieked and thrashed around violently, but this didn’t deter the she-wolf. “NAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAHP! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHP IHIHIHIHIHIHT!”

Loba was still blowing the raspberry as the engineer cackled out her demands; she made sure to empty her lungs. Then, instead of complying, she brushed her fingers against her uppermost ribs again while she blew another lung-emptying raspberry over her navel. By then, Wattson was howling with laughter. After a few more raspberries, Loba reached up further and burrowed her nails into her armpits, prompting a sudden shriek of desperate laughter.

“NONONOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHA! PAHAHAHAHAHS IHIHIHCI! PAHAHAHAHAHAS IHIHIHIHCI! (Not there! Not there!)” Natalie screamed and pulled at her arms as much as she could. Loba smirked widely and stopped tickling, but kept her nails pressed into the woman’s armpits.

“Well, well, well...look what I’ve found…” The thief purred, applying just a little bit of pressure to make her shiver and giggle. “This spot must be terribly ticklish, huh?” She slowly raked her nails back and forth where her armpits began, looking down at the engineer with a smile. “Call it woman’s intuition.”

Wattson sputtered and giggled heavily, teetering on the edge of laughter. She gave her arms another sharp pull, but it didn’t do anything to free them. When she didn’t respond with understandable words, the thief gave her armpits a quick scribble, making her shriek and laugh. “YEHEHEHEHS! Ihihihihiht tihihihckles! Sohohohohoh leheheheht mehehehe gohohohoh! Plehehehehease…” She pleaded, staring up at the thief with nervous, giggly anticipation.

Loba playfully tutted at her and shook her head. “Aw, Natalie. When have you ever known me to walk away from a gold mine?” She simpered, sneaking her hands underneath her arms and scratching away at her hollows.

Wattson screeched and burst out laughing, bucking against the mattress. The thief focused on the very center of each armpit, where the muscles split. Loba almost toppled over from how much Wattson was squirming; so, for a moment, she believed that the younger woman would somehow be able to free herself. So, keeping her fingers buried in her right armpit, the thief shifted her weight so that she could reach above her bed.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA LOHOHOHOHOHBAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHN!” Natalie cried out, squirming as far to the left as she could to try and get away from the intense sensation. “DOHOHOHOHOHN’T TIHIHIHIHCKLE THEHEHER--HEHEHEHEHY!”

While Wattson was laughing, Loba lifted up her left arm and slipped her wrist through a restraint above the bed frame. It was soft, black, and made out of nylon, but sturdy enough to keep her arm in place. The she-wolf stopped tickling to do the same thing to her right arm. Now, she had easy access to her armpits and torso. Loba settled back down onto her waist, making a dramatic show of wiggling her fingers in the air.

“There we go, much better.” The thief began, grinning as Natalie paled and tried to tug her wrists free from the newfound restraints. “Now there’s nothing in my way…” She whispered tauntingly, lowering her hands even closer to her exposed armpits. Wattson’s eyes were locked onto Loba’s wiggling nails and she squirmed, already giggling.

“Nohohohohoh wahahahait! WahahAHAHAHIT!” Natalie squeaked and jumped when Loba held her nails just inches from her armpits. The she-wolf cocked her head to the side and smirked at her.

“...Yes?” Loba chuckled, wiggling her fingers in the air again. She wasn’t even touching Wattson yet, but the engineer squealed and giggled harder the closer her fingers got.

“PLEHEHEHEAHASE STAHAHAHAHA!” Wattson yelled, her arms twitching from how much she was trying to pull them down. The phantom tickles caught up with her and she started laughing, making the thief laugh in turn.

“What? I’m not even touching you!” Loba giggled, barely pressing her fingertips to her armpits. The engineer screamed and bucked her hips; now, Loba was laughing almost as hard as she was. “Seriously? I don’t even have to do anything, do I? You’re too ticklish for your own good.” She smiled, letting her words hang in the air. Just when Wattson thought she was going to attack her armpits, the she-wolf switched gears and started stroking her sides.

Wattson shivered and wiggled, biting her lips to trap the giggles. Loba arched a brow at her and, grinning, she jabbed her fingers into her ribs. The engineer flinched and grinned widely, shaking with the laughter that she refused to let free.

“That’s not going to work, love…” Loba sang, rubbing her fingertips between the bones. Wattson gasped and let a few giggles slip out, but she was determined to hold out. Loba leaned in again and slowly started scratching her way up her ribcage. “I know you want to laugh. And, it would seem that I’m exceptionally good at making you laugh…” She continued teasing, causing the engineer to giggle even more. The thief continued tickling her ribs and even her stomach before finally descending on her armpits. Loba dug five wiggling nails into each armpit, causing Natalie to scream and cackle loudly.

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHON LOHOHOHOHBA! AHAHAHARRÊHEHEHETE ÇAAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHARRÊHEHEHETE ÇAAHAHAHAHA! (Stop it! Stop it!)” Wattson shrieked and threw her body around, laughing harder when Loba tickled faster. Loba chuckled and jabbed her fingers into her armpits instead, making the engineer let out another cry of laughter.

“Sorry, beautiful. But I never did pick up on the language of love. You’ll have to translate for me..” Loba jeered, scribbling away along the poor woman’s armpits. Wattson tossed her head back again and shook with laughter. Any words that she tried to say were lost as she desperately tried to escape the woman’s devious nails. Loba kept up the tickling for a good five minutes before slowing the scribbling down to slow, gentle strokes. “You know what? There’s something I meant to ask you..” She remembered, slowing the tickling down even more so that the engineer could breathe and speak.

“...Whahahahahahahat?” Natalie panted and snickered, grateful for the small break, but still twitching from the residue tickles. Loba, since she noticed how especially ticklish her right armpit seemed to be, traced a nail just around that particular armpit.

“You know, all of this talk about flirting and charming others has got me wondering...who is it you have your eyes on?” The thief inquired, taking that same nail and poking it into her armpit at random intervals. Wattson snorted and pulled at her right arm, her cheeks reddening.

“I-I dohohohn’t hahahahave mhyhy ehehehehyes ohohohn ahahahanyoohohohne…” Natalie giggled; when the engineer looked up at her, there was skepticism written all over her face. And that one, lone finger poking into her armpit noticeably picked up speed. “I’m sehehehehrious! Lohohohohbahahaha plehehehehase!” She tried again, rolling her body to the side and frantically giggling.

“Aw, sweetie. I’ve been doing this sort of thing a long time. I can always tell when someone has a crush…” Loba purred, starting to poke all five of her fingers into that same armpit. Wattson yelped and turned her face into her shoulder, loud laughter mixing in with her giggles. In fact, she was giggling so loud that the thief had to speak up so that she could be heard. “Would you like to know what else I’m good at?”

“NOHOHohohohohohohohoh!” Natalie rejected and resumed kicking at the mattress. She was dangerously close to laughing; so, the thief positioned her free hand by the woman’s left armpit while continuing to tickle the right one.

“I’m also good at picking out lies…” Loba muttered with an evil grin, spidering her all ten of her nails against both of her armpits. Wattson started bucking her hips again, hysterical laughter filling up every last corner of the room.

“I’M NAHAHAHAHT LYHYHYHYING! AHAHAHAHAH I’M NAHAHAHAHAT!” Natalie argued, her trapped arms twitching in place as she fell deeper into hysterics. It didn’t matter how much she pulled or bucked; her arms stayed above her head, and Loba was having a blast tickling her super sensitive armpits. The thief decided to drag her nails along her outer left armpit while she continued tickling every inch of the right one. “PLEHEHEHAHASE LOHOHOHOBAHAHAHA I’M NAHAHT LHYHYHYINHG HAHAHAHA!”

“Yes you are! Just tell me who it is. I’ll keep it a secret.” Loba promised and, smiling, she flicked her nail against her left armpit. Wattson squirmed to the right and squeaked, so the thief did the same thing to the right armpit. She laughed when the engineer jumped to the opposite side, so she kept on alternating the pokes, amused by the little ‘dance’ she was doing.

“IT’S NOHOHOH OHOHOHOHNE HAHAHAHAHA!” Natalie insisted and shut her eyes, her laughter completely taking over her. “I DOHOHOHOHN’T HAHAHAHAVE A CRUHUHSHAHAHAHAHA!”

A small part of Loba believed her, but another part of her wanted to keep tickling just a bit longer. She could tell the engineer was reaching her limit, though, so she wanted to give her one last good tickling before she stopped. So, with a small sigh, Loba grabbed onto her right arm with her left hand. Then, with her right hand, she pressed her fingertips into her uppermost rib. Wattson arched her back and kept on giggling but, when she tried to pull her arm down again, it didn’t move at all. The restraints were already keeping her limbs still anyway, but Loba’s grip made it virtually impossible for her arm to have the slightest movement. Natalie froze as the panic seeped in.

“Last chance, beautiful. Tell me who you have the hots for, and I’ll stop.” Loba demanded, vibrating her fingers against the bone. Wattson shook her head and laughed, pleadingly looking into the she-wolf’s dark eyes. “If you don’t...well, let’s just say I’m sure you’ll come around…” She continued warning, smirking as she slowly inched toward her armpit. “So? Who’s that special Legend?”

Wattson breathed heavily, her body going rigid in anticipation of the incoming tickles. She kept her eyes on her just in case she decided to have mercy...but Loba wasn’t so easily swayed. The engineer scrambled to provide her a satisfactory answer, but she took too long, and the thief wasn’t a fan of waiting. Loba kept a firm grip on Natalie’s arm as she wriggled her nails into the right armpit, scribbling along the area where the muscles split.

The engineer thrashed in Loba’s grip, convulsing with laughter. She repeatedly shook her head and tried to get even the smallest bit of leverage on her arm, but the thief wasn’t having any of it. So, Natalie didn’t have a choice but to take the tickles and laugh her head off...which is exactly what she did.

“AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Wattson gave up on trying to speak and resumed laughing into her shoulder. “SAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“No can do, love. I gave you plenty of chances to come clean. And you didn’t take them.” Loba donned her best pitying voice as she fluttered her fingertips into her left armpit, now tickling both armpits. Wattson squeaked and scrunched her nose up from how hard she was laughing. “I told you what would happen…” She whispered, leaning over to resume blowing on the engineer’s stomach.

Wattson yelled one more time before her laughter became silent. She was too tired to struggle, so she laid limp as the she-wolf tickled her. Loba stopped the tickling altogether when she didn’t hear anymore laughter, reaching above the bed frame to undo her restraints. The engineer’s arms felt heavy as she finally brought them down, trembling and giggling.

“I’ll tehehehell yohohohu...I’ll tehehehell yohohohu..” Natalie gasped for air and sat up, pulling down her shirt and rubbing her arms together. Loba chuckled and shook her head, crawling off the bed to give her some space.

“No need, beautiful. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough. And I’m sure whoever it is will love hearing you laugh just as much as I did.” She winked, giggling when the woman’s cheeks reddened. Loba strode away from her just to turn off the music. Then, she returned to the engineer and sat beside her. The thief’s expression became more serious and she turned to face her. “Mind if I give you some advice on pursuing this mystery lover of yours?” She quipped and offered her a smile...but, something about the way she asked made Wattson look up. And, when she did, the smile also disappeared.

“Yes? What is it, Loba?” Natalie put her hands in her lap and eyed her curiously. Loba sighed and stared at the wall for a moment before looking at the engineer.

“I haven’t always been honest with you. With anyone, really. Because after I lost my parents...well, I didn’t think any of that mattered anymore.” Loba admitted quietly, frowning for the first time in the time she and Wattson spent together. “I learned that the world is a cold, unforgiving place. And as long as I got what I wanted, nothing else mattered. I had to claw my way out of the slums to get where I am now, so if I broke someone’s heart or stole some old guy’s jewelry, so what? At the end of the day, I took care of myself. Because I didn’t have anyone to do it for me.” She sighed, putting one hand over the other as she remembered her parents. Wattson blinked and opened her mouth to speak, but the thief held up her hand.

“I don’t want you to feel bad for me, Natalie. I’m fine. I’m just...what I’m saying is that once the demonio joined the Games, I realized that I didn’t have to do everything by myself anymore. I lied to you, to everyone, to get what I wanted. And..I almost got you killed. I just want to tell you that no matter who you fall for, always take care of yourself first. And do it by yourself. That way, no one else gets hurt if things go south…” Loba affirmed, looking directly into the engineer’s eyes. “And if they’re dishonest with you, make sure you walk away.”

Wattson’s gaze didn’t falter as she looked up at the thief. She took on a serious expression, too. “You did what you did to avenge your family. I don’t blame you for that..” She answered firmly, which surprised the thief. Loba expected anger, rage even….but she got quite the opposite. “If Revenant did that to my family, I’d…” The engineer trailed off, suddenly getting louder, her eyes momentarily engulfed with fury. But then, she calmed down and sighed. “I don’t even want to say it. But, I also think that people can change for the better, if they want to. I’ve seen it myself.” A smile sprung onto Natalie’s face as she put her hand over Loba’s. “So no matter what you choose to do, Loba, I forgive you. You’re a part of the Legend-ary family now, for better or worse!” Natalie giggled and beamed up at the woman. Loba chuckled and patted her hand; she wasn’t the emotional type, but the engineer’s words made her heart feel warm.

“Thanks, Natalie. Now, it’s getting late. And I have some...things, I have to take care of. Why don’t you go break some more hearts and tell me about it tomorrow?” Loba quipped, pulling her hand free to poke Wattson’s sides. Wattson lurched away from her and laughed, hopping off of the bed.

“Okahahy...I’ll see you around, Loba!” Natalie smiled and bid the thief farewell, hurrying out of her room and down the hallway. Loba noticed the slight strut to her walk as she left, which made her heart swell with pride.

Aw, they grow up so fast…

#wattson #wattson apex legends #natalie paquette #crypto #crypto apex legends #tae joon park #loba #loba apex legends #loba andrade #ticklish!wattson #ticklish!nataliepaquette #ticklish!natalie #ticklish!paquette

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dwellordream · 3 years

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“Having established friendship’s intimate links to proper womanhood, and having demarcated the unrequited passions, obsessive infatuations, and conjugal relationships often conflated with friendship, we can now turn to female friendship itself. What repertory of gestures, emotions, and actions defined friendship? How did women mark their friendships and how did friendships evolve? How did friendship interact with kinship and marital bonds, religious belief, and the Victorian gender system?

One of the most striking differences between Victorian and twentieth century friendship is how often Victorian friends used “love” interchangeably with weaker expressions, such as “fond of” or “like,” and how often women used the language of physical attraction to describe their feelings for women whom a larger context shows were friends, not lovers. In 1864, when Lady Knightley’s beloved cousin Edith died, the twenty three-year-old offset her grief with a romantic quotation: “And yet through all I feel sure / ‘Tis better to have loved and lost / Than never to have loved at all’” (71). A year later, Knightley rhapsodized that a new woman, also named Edith, “has come to bless my life. . . . I have grown to love Edie very dearly” (105–6).

…Lifewriting provides many instances of a woman recording her attraction to other women or boasting of being “intimate” with other women in youth and adulthood; Ann Gilbert recalled how as a girl, her sister became “by instantaneous attraction” another girl’s “bosom friend” (24, 78). In an 1881 memoir published in 1930, fifty-one-year old Augusta Becher recalled a youthful meeting with a young woman who “proved just charming—took me captive quite at once” and went to dinner wearing “lilies of the valley I had gathered for her in her hair” (37–38). Ethel Smyth’s autobiography discussed her own sexual affairs with women in coded terms but openly described how her mother and the children’s author Juliana Ewing “were attracted to each other at once and eventually became great friends” (68, 111).

Others wrote of loving (rather than liking) women; in 1837, Emily Shore (1819–1839) wrote of her friend Matilda Warren, “I love her more and more. . . . It is difficult to stop my pen when once I begin to write of her.” The two women argued fine points of religious doctrine but concluded “that, after all, we agreed in loving each other very dearly.” Addressing her friend Catherine Marsh in 1862, twenty years after they first met, a married woman wrote, “My Katie, you were mine in 1842, and you have been twenty times more mine every year since,” reveling in friendship as the proud possession of a beloved intimate (40).

Such expressions of love between friends, as we have seen, were perceived as fulfilling the social function of feminization that led Sarah Ellis to promote friendship alongside motherhood and marriage as one of the duties of women. In The Bonds of Womanhood, historian Nancy Cott influentially argues that in the United States, domestic ideology promoted friendship between women as one way of confining women to a female world and to female roles, even as female friendship also laid the foundations for a feminist movement that sought to open the male worlds of education and professional work to women.

But even women who were not active feminist reformers enjoyed the ways that friendships allowed them to go beyond the limits assigned to their gender without being perceived as mannish or unladylike. Friendship was both a technology of gender and an enactment of the play in the gender system. As friends, for example, women were able to exercise a prerogative otherwise associated with men: taking an active stance towards the object of their affections. In an 1880s memoir about the 1830s, Georgiana Sitwell, later Swinton (1823–1900), recalled a governess who “was romantic, worshipped the curate, and formed a passionate attachment to our newly imported French governess.”

…Counseled to be passive in relation to men, women were allowed to act with initiative and spontaneity toward female friends, and friendship enabled women to exercise powers of choice and expression that they could not display in relation to parents or prospective husbands. Bonds with parents and siblings were given, not chosen, and friendship was for many girls their first experience of an affinity elected rather than assigned. For women who grew up in families with over ten children, friendship was also a girl’s first experience of a dyad rather than a swarm.

While women had the power to turn down marriage offers and had subtle ways of attracting men they wanted as spouses, they were not allowed to choose a mate too overtly; only in Punch lampoons did women propose to men, and it was considered equally improper for women openly to initiate courtship. It was perfectly acceptable, however, for a woman to make the first move toward friendship with another woman, or to solidify amity by writing to a female acquaintance, calling on her, or giving her a gift. Aristocratic women had exchanged gifts, miniatures, and poems for centuries, and in the Victorian era the practice became widespread among middle-class women of all ages.

One of adolescent Emily Shore’s several intimates, Elizabeth, gave her a “chain made of her beautiful rich brown hair” before leaving England, which Shore considered a token of her friend’s affection and looked forward to displaying as a sign of social distinction: “I have generally worn a pretty little chain of bought hair, and when people have asked me ‘whose hair is that?’ I have been mortified at being obliged to answer ‘Nobody’s.’ Now, when asked the same question, I shall be able to say it is the hair of my best and dearest friend” (269).

Mature women painted portraits of friends and composed poems about them that they then bestowed as gifts, creating a friendship economy based on artifacts whose praise of a friend’s beauty, loyalty, and achievements also implicitly lauded their maker for having chosen so wisely. Female friendship allowed middle-class women to enjoy another privilege that scholars have assumed only men could indulge—the opportunity to display affection and experience pleasurable physical contact outside marriage without any loss of respectability.

Women who were friends, not lovers, wrote openly of exchanging kisses and caresses in documents that their spouses and relatives read without comment. Women regularly kissed each other on the lips, a gesture that could be a routine social greeting or provide intense enjoyment. Emily Shore, whose Bedfordshire Anglican family was so proper they did not allow her to read Byron, described in a diary later published by her sisters the “heartfelt pleasure” she obtained from a visit to her friend Miss Warren’s room: “She was sitting up in bed, looking so sweet and lovely that I could not take my eyes off her. . . . She made me sit on her bed, and kissed me many times, and was kinder to me than ever [and] held my hand clasped in hers” (203).

Female amity gave married and unmarried women the opportunity to play the social field with impunity, since a woman could show devoted love, lighthearted affection, fleeting attraction, and ardent physical appreciation for multiple female friends without incurring rebuke. The editor of Emily Shore’s journals noted that when Shore wrote of loving Matilda Warren her diary was also “filled most especially with her passionate love” for a woman named Mary (207). Thomas Carlyle wrote indulgently about Geraldine Jewsbury’s affection for his wife Jane as well as about “a very pretty . . . specimen of the London maiden of the middle classes” who “felt quite captivated with my Jane.”

Marion Bradley, wife and mother, wrote of her deep bond with Emily Tennyson and in an 1865 diary entry observed more casually that her new governess was “a gentle, lively, wise, cultivated little creature. . . . I love her and hope always to be very thoughtful for her and good to her.” Equal latitude was afforded to unmarried women. The biography of Agnes Jones (1832–1868), written by her sister and published in 1871, narrated her life in terms of two arcs: achievements as a nurse and love for various women. In adolescence, her sister’s “ardent affectionate nature was drawn out in warmest love” for a teacher, followed by an “attachment” to a fellow missionary that “ripened into a warm and lasting friendship” as well as a close connection with another “devoted friend” (15, 21).

In an era that saw no contest between what we now call heterosexual and homosexual desire, neither men nor women saw anything disruptive about amorous badinage between women, and therefore no effort was made to contain and denigrate female homoeroticism as an immature stage to be overcome. Only in the late 1930s, after fear of female inverts had become widespread, did women’s lifewritings start to describe female friendship as a developmental phase to be effaced by marriage. Since then, erotic playfulness between women has either been overinterpreted as having the same seriousness as sexual acts or underinterpreted and trivialized as a phase significant only as training for heterosexual courtship.

…Victorian society harshly condemned adultery, castigated female heterosexual agency as unladylike, and considered it improper for women to compete with men intellectually, professionally, or physically. But a woman could enjoy, without guilt, the pleasures of toying with another woman’s affections or vying with other women for precedence as a friend. In maturity as in youth, women delighted in attracting and securing female friends whom they often singled out for being beautiful and socially in demand. In a letter to her brother in 1817, the unmarried Catherine Hutton of Birmingham (1756–1846) boasted, “I have been a great favourite with a most elegant and clever woman.”

To a married female friend who often gave her fashion advice she wrote of acquiring yet another “new” friend: “[S]he is beautiful, unaffected, and to me most friendly.” Female rivalry over men was discouraged because it implied that women fought for and won their husbands, but women were allowed the agency of competing for one another’s favor. Lady Monkswell crowed about having “supplanted” one woman as the “great friend” of Mrs. Edith Bland, and the relative who edited her published letters and diaries included many other instances in which she bragged of similar successes (12).

Such relish in contending with women over women was possible without any loss of ascribed femininity, even as it took women well beyond the parameters of womanhood as defined relative to men. Just as women boasted of making conquests of female friends, they also openly appreciated each other’s physical charms. Women commented compulsively in their journals and letters on the appearance of every new woman they met, even when they did not know the woman personally.

Adrienne Rich has influentially argued that “compulsory heterosexuality” works by stifling all kinds of bonds between women, from the homosocial to the homosexual, but Victorian society’s investment in heterosexuality went hand-in-hand with what we could call compulsory homosociability and homoeroticism for women. The imperative to please men required women to scrutinize other women’s dress and appearance in order to improve their own, and at the same time promoted a specifically feminine appetite for attractive friends and lovely strangers. Conduct literature praised female friendships for developing in women the loyalty, selflessness, empathy, and self-effacement that they were required to exercise in relation to men.

Women’s lifewriting shows an acceptance of that idealized and ideological version of female friendship; few women left records of conflict or rivalry with friends, though some acknowledged engaging in jealous competition with relative strangers over prized acquaintances and intimates. At the same time, friendship provided a realm where women exercised an authority, agency, willfulness, and caprice for which they would have been censured in the universe of male-female relations. Female friendship provided women with a sanctioned realm of erotic choice, agency, and indulgence, in contrast to the sharp restrictions that middle-class gender codes placed on female flirtation with men.

A woman who wrote of spending time alone with a man in his bedroom or giving him a lock of hair without being engaged to him would have transgressed the rules governing heterosexual gender, but to write of doing so with another woman was to describe an accepted means of forming social bonds and acquiring social status in the realm of homosocial gender. The celebration of women’s friendships shows that femininity was defined not only in relation to masculinity but also through bonds between women that did not simply tether them to the gender system but also afforded them a degree of play within it.”

- Sharon Marcus, “The Play of the System.” in Between Women: Friendship, Desire, and Marriage in Victorian England

#sharon marcus #between women #victorian #history #gender #sexuality

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

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You Can STAY- Part One

M/F Main Pairing: Y/N x Lee Felix (M/F side pairings: Y/N x Stray Kids)

Genre: Fantasy AU, Scarlet Heart AU, OT8 SKZ

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Language?

Summary: Loosely based on the K-Drama Moon Lovers Scarlet Heart Ryeo, a beautiful, but deadly, magic-user is invited to be the royal Mage to the King. It is a great honor for a young lady to accept, but she does not anticipate the deadly game of court politics awaiting her arrival. Not to mention eight young princes who all begin vying for her affections.

The sky is exquisite at its rare setting caught between the fall of the sun and the vast expanse of an illuminated horizon. I could admire it for hours, feeling the soft breeze tangle the strands of my hair while I counted the glistening stars adorning the rapidly darkening sea of black. In these moments of solitude, I can reflect back on all that has led me to this point in my life. An endless tournament of fights to prove myself as the strongest, competing against some of the greatest magic-users to ever cross the grassy high plains of the Clè Kingdom. Yet, in the end, I was the one who emerged victorious, accepting the honor of positioning myself as the Court’s chosen Royal Mage solely responsible for protecting the King and his people from potential threats to the North.

It was the kind of status that every able-bodied magic-user strived to achieve in some capacity. Notwithstanding, it was often difficult and dangerous work, but I knew in my heart that I wanted nothing more than the privilege to serve my people. Because a kingdom was only as strong as its weakest soldiers and I was determined to accommodate any weaknesses detected amongst our people. For this reason, I have bravely trekked far away from my home village, arriving at the gate point to the Royal City just before Nightfall. My plan was to make camp here in the forest overlooking the castle, taking advantage of one more night’s sleep of freedom before I relinquished my complete servitude to the Royal family.

I shivered just thinking about it, wrapping my arms tighter around my torso to imitate the warmth and comfort of my mother’s embrace. Sadly, the only considerable disadvantage of my position is the fact that I am meant to serve alone, leaving my family behind for the next step in my journey. But I could rest easy knowing that I would be sending them a sizable income back home to allow them the life of luxury they deserved. Especially for my youngest sister, who was suffering from a rare sickness that required immediate attention and my monthly allowance would easily accommodate her expenses. It brought me a sense of pride knowing that I could take care of my family now as they have done for me all of my life.

Ironically, I knew very little about the Court I was meant to serve. Such trivial politics have never served me any use in my life as I often dedicated my time to learning new magic as opposed to memorizing Royal names. All I knew for certain was that the King was much older now and he had married various wives with whom he had sired many children. Eight of them to be precise. Otherwise, I was completely ignorant of the castle itself, a foreign entity that provided countless occasions of deep pondering on my part. I would frequently think about the people here: what they were like and how I was meant to serve them.

But deep in my heart, I knew that the most righteous path was seldom the one most familiar and worn. Instead, it was the mysterious path, full of twists and turns, that provided the greatest benefit in life. This is why I stand on the precipice of the unknown, prepared to start over again as I contributed my magic to the King and his Kingdom. It was everything that I had dreamed about since I first realized that I possessed magical influence, and I was determined to succeed.

With such promising potential for my future, I was finally able to succumb to a necessary sleep under the peaceful watch of the intimate stars. Thereafter, I dreamed of many great things like standing at the front of the King’s army, facing enemies with pride and unmatched skill. Because I was determined to become the greatest magic-user to ever serve the Kingdom.

Consequently, by daybreak, I felt well-rested enough to conquer the remaining miles to my destination with unrivaled enthusiasm, arriving at the vast front gates by noon. Unsurprisingly, two guards awaited my arrival dressed in Royal colors of black and yellow, swords poised at their sides and helmets vibrating beneath the influence of the sun. It was an imposing sight, and I remembered to steady my nerves before approaching the guards.

“Greetings, friends,” I said. “My name is Y/N. I am expected by the King to accept my new post as the Court’s Mage.”

My words were met by initial silence until one of the guards bowed low at the waist as if finally understanding my claim. I continued to wait patiently while he retreated behind the great doors barricading the castle. In the meantime, I took a moment to admire the elegance of the enormous fortress; a patterned wall of symmetrical stone pieces held together, undoubtedly, by a useful combination of magic and hard-work at the hands of my predecessors and an array of talented craftsmen. In any case, I recalled the circulating rumors from my home village that the walls were impossible to penetrate and provided ample security to those who dwelled inside.

It certainly paid no favors to someone like myself who stood on the outside. In fact, the sun was hot against my body and I resisted the urge to fan my flushed skin when the guard finally returned accompanied by an elderly woman whose bright green eyes appraised me with clear disdain. “The Royal Mage?”

“That’s me, ma’am,” I said politely, maintaining my manners even when it was clear that this woman would not extend the same courtesy.

“I am the head of the house,” she explained. “You can call me Ms. White if it pleases you.”

“It would ma’am,” I said. “I enjoy the honor of addressing the recipient of my conversation.”

“Well,” Ms. White sniffed, head held high as she nodded to the guard. “Come inside quickly. Your room has been prepared.”

I offered another bow, rising only when Ms. White turned her back to me, fully expecting the new Mage to follow her as she led us inside the castle for the very first time. With a shiver of anticipation, I held my head high with newfound pride as we walked through the wide halls together, lit by the elegant candles from the gothic wall sconces. It provided the castle with an air of intimacy, compelling me to gaze around at my surroundings with a sort of childish wonder that I had not experienced in a very long time.

Ms. White ignored the way I gasped at the brilliant chandeliers, concerned only with attending to her courtly duties which somehow involved introducing me to a rather young woman who waited outside the door to my new quarters. “This is your handmaiden,” Ms. White said, reaching over to adjust the collar of the poor girl’s shirt. “She is at your disposal.”

“Thank you,” I said, offering the girl a pleasant smile. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

I received a small smile in return before the girl bowed her head and held the door wide to allow my entrance with Ms. White. I fully expected time to recover from my journey, but Ms. White was busy flitting about my new quarters while rummaging through the impressive wardrobe filled with an unexpected amount of new clothes. “Your gown is here for tonight, Mage. The King expects to meet with you later; however, I invite you to stay in your quarters until orders for your arrival have been sent.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied smoothly, offering a gentle curtsey as Ms. White passed with a tired sigh. Of course, such mannerisms held no regard in my opinion, but that didn’t mean I wanted to disrespect the ones who cared about them. Otherwise, I would definitely face scrutiny from the ones I was now meant to serve and obey. “She’s quite something,” I remarked to my handmaiden once I was completely sure that Ms. White was gone. “Have you worked here long?”

The girl was eerily silent, head-trained down as she stood in front of me. I recognized the submissive tendency because my mother once practiced similar restraint when she was forced to serve a harsh landowner to repay our debts. “Please don’t take such formalities with me. I really have no need for a handmaiden. You can speak freely in my presence.”

The girl seemed to evaluate my words, appearing doubtful that I was being genuine. “Thank you,” she finally whispered and I sighed into the room.

“I’d rather us be friends,” I said. “Wouldn’t that be more appropriate?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted shyly. “Your position is higher than mine in the castle.”

“I care nothing for ranks,” I reassured her, stepping closer to the sole window overlooking the castle’s vast grounds. “Is there a good place to walk?”

The girl startled at my sudden question. “But Ms. White ordered you to stay in your quarters.”

“The day is too beautiful for that,” I said, already set on a new destination. “Come and walk with me for a while.”

“If you must insist,” she nodded with some reluctance. I wondered how often the poor girl took liberties to test the limits of her given orders.

“And do tell me your name,” I said. “I’d prefer to address you that way.”

“Anna,” she offered kindly.

“Anna,” I repeated with conviction. “It’s a beautiful name, and I’ll be sure to call upon you often.”

“You’re too kind,” Anna replied. “I wasn’t sure what to expect from my new charge.”

“Consider me a friend,” I said. “That’s all I want from you, especially during my walks. I enjoy pleasant company.”

Anna blushed at my statement but appeared far more relaxed. In the meantime, I tightened the belt of my sweater to act as an appropriate barrier for the slight chill I detected outside upon my arrival. Ergo, Anna was next to my side in an instant, offering to fetch me a variety of sweaters and jackets which I appropriately declined, looping my arm through hers as we prepared for our trip outside to explore the beautiful castle grounds.

“The gardens are my favorite,” Anna remarked, settling into her designated role as my self-proclaimed guide, leading me around the defined boundaries of the castle borders. “My father once worked tirelessly to ensure the viability of the flowers which bloom every spring.”

“It must be gorgeous then,” I proclaimed. “Since it receives so much care and attention.”

Anna nodded enthusiastically, pulling me along with a generous grip on my forearm. “If you enjoy the outdoors, then I highly suggest taking your walks through the gardens.”

“At your insistence, of course,” I nodded. “Tell me more about the castle. I’d like to know about your life here.”

“It isn’t always easy,” Anna revealed. “There are hardships when the soldiers go away to war. The servants are the first to make great concessions in surrendering the things we take for granted like sugar or cloth. After all, the Royals are the priority of the Kingdom, and we must serve them as dictated.”

“That sounds insufferable,” I groaned. “I do hope war isn’t possible anytime soon.”

“No,” Anna agreed. “The King has made favorable treaties with the other kingdoms. He made special agreements to secure our borders.”

“Special agreements?”

Anna shifted uneasily from next to me. “Perhaps it isn’t my position to gossip about such things.”

I nodded in understanding. “What about the Royals, then? I know the King has many wives and children.”

“The Royals are fine if you obey them,” Anna said. “I don’t intend to speak ill of anyone, but the younger sons can be a handful.”

“But they’re still only children, I presume?”

“For now, but they ought to take their lessons more seriously. The youngest Princes Seungmin and Jeongin are notorious for playing pranks on their tutors.”

“As to be expected from those who feel entitled and privileged,” I remarked, ignoring the small gasp Anna allowed at my comment. “Does the King bother to help raise them?”

“The King insists that he is not responsible.”

“Which explains their mischievous behavior.”

“But they can be such good boys!”

“Yes, I’m sure they’re more than capable, as long as their mothers ensure their well-being without the assistance of the King.”

“The King is quite busy with other affairs.”

I paused next to a rose bush, plucking a random stem from the array of vibrant reds and pinks. “He should never be too busy for his children.”

I lifted the flower to inhale its scent, watching Anna fidget nervously as she glanced around to survey our surroundings. “Life is much different in the castle.”

“I’m gathering that for myself,” I agreed. “How much acreage does the garden cover?”

Anna seemed relieved to change topics, talking in great detail about the tenuous process of ensuring the garden’s elegance. Meanwhile, she continued to escort me further back into the maze of elaborate greenery, pausing every so often to remark on a passing display. It was quite nice, listening to her passionate explanations while taking in the fresh blooming flowers.

I only grew distracted when, up ahead in the distance, I noticed two young women standing together next to a large basket full of what I could only presume to be flowers from the bushes. However, something seemed amiss given the passionate way they spoke to one another, voices carrying over to where Anna and I were slowly approaching. “Girls,” Anna said with a stern tone. “What seems to be the problem?”

“The Queen requested these flowers,” a trepid reply offered. “We’re not sure what she’s expecting.”

“Queen Seo-Yeon frequently demands fresh arrangements,” Anna briefly explained to me before addressing the timid housemaids in front of her. “Let me assist you.”

The girls seemed grateful, offering their words of gratitude to a visibly annoyed Anna who only huffed in response as she snatched a pair of cutters from one of the handmaidens. I stood to the side, tilting my head when I heard something peculiar from the other side of the hedge. “I’ll continue by myself,” I said.

Anna turned around, eyes wide as she shook her head aggressively. “There’s no need for that, Y/N! I’ll only take a moment or two with the girls.”

“Take your time,” I insisted. “Don’t feel obligated to accompany me when it isn’t necessary. Help your friends with the arrangements, and I promise to stay close.”

Anna hesitated, glancing between the sharp cutters in her hand to where I waited patiently. “Okay, but I’ll proceed with urgency.”

I nodded once, sparing no further thought to Anna’s situation before retreating down the maze path, following the noise of what sounded like a potential argument. It definitely required investigation, and there was a part of me that desperately wanted to intervene if necessary since my magic often proved reliable in conflicts. With this in mind, I arrived promptly to witness the fight unfolding right before my very eyes.

I paused as I took in the scene, anger rising in my chest as I watched a young boy shove an innocent handmaiden to the ground, her fabrics falling from the basket she had been carrying. At this point, my magic was vibrating against my fingertips in response to the shameless act of aggression. I swallowed hard and immediately started for the young boy who only noticed my presence once I was close enough in proximity. “Who are you?” he growled, dark eyes arrogant.

“Apologize,” I said, not bothering to answer his question.

The younger boy chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

“Does it matter?” I returned with equal ardor. “It is impolite under any circumstances to treat a lady with such unkindness.”

“Who are you to talk down to me?” the boy snapped, reaching for the scabbard around his waist to retrieve his sword. The point was aligned with my chest. “Speak again, whore!”

I narrowed my eyes, flexing my fingers to summon a familiar spell. The younger boy froze when the sword vanished from his hand. He gasped, surprise evident across his features as I dared another step closer, summoning more of the impregnable magic to send the boy falling onto his back, air leaving his lungs with a harsh exhale. “Do not call me such names with a loose tongue,” I said, leering down at the boy who only returned my gaze with one of clear shock.

I was completely focused on the issue at hand, concentration unwavering, which probably explained why Anna was able to find me without attracting my attention. “Prince Seungmin,” Anna squealed, coming to a halt next to me. “I’m terribly sorry, your highness. My mistress must have been unaware of your identity.”

“Be it so,” I glowered down at the younger boy. “It doesn’t matter if he’s a prince or not, you will show respect to the women who serve you.”

Seungmin scoffed, a challenge evident in his eyes. “She’s nothing but a peasant girl and I am of Royal blood.”

I narrowed my eyes and Seungmin cried out again when I increased the pressure of my magic at his throat, fingers struggling against the invisible force. “You could use a lesson in manners, young man,” I told him, relinquishing the hold only when his pale skin started to glow in a deathly blue color. “Take this as a push in the right direction,” I said, ignoring Anna’s protests as I walked around his body with every intention of returning inside the castle.

Later on, Anna decided to remain mute on the subject of our encounter with Prince Seungmin. Despite her simple reprimand, Anna refused to elaborate on why I should treat the Prince with respect when he had none to give in return. Nevertheless, the issue was more or less forgotten by the time night had once again darkened the gentle fields of the Clè Kingdom.

“Tonight is a very special occasion,” Anna informed me as she helped me change into my dress, flitting about my new quarters with practiced ease. “The King is expected to name his immediate successor.”

My eyes widened at the announcement. “Is it so? Are there any rumors concerning the new successor?”

Anna considered my question as she pulled a gorgeous evening gown from the wardrobe. “It might be Prince Changbin,” she said at last. “His mother is the King’s favorite wife, and he’s also the third oldest.”

“I see,” I nodded, having no experience with such selection. “What about the oldest Prince?”

“Prince Chan?” Anna scoffed. “That’s doubtful. The King was very displeased with his marriage to a common lady.”

“Was it not pre-arranged?” I asked, mildly astonished because I knew that such formalities were an important tradition in the Royal Family.

“Chan married her secretly,” Anna whispered. “And she’s very ill these days which only makes the situation worse.”

My eyes widened at the revelation. “Is it truly so? I can’t imagine that such actions went unpunished?”

“Of course they didn’t,” Anna nodded. “Chan will have no claim to the throne and his mother was cast aside as the King’s favorite.”

“Such a harsh punishment for someone who had no part of the decision?”

“The King considers it entirely the Queen’s fault. After all, his wives are responsible for ensuring that his sons represent their Kingdom well.”

“I suppose the ways of the Royals are foreign to someone like me,” I admitted. “I can’t understand the justification for such exile, but I dare not question the ones I am meant to protect.”

Anna nodded solemnly. “The King’s children have very strict expectations. Oftentimes, their actions and behaviors reflect back on the Kingdom.”

“Understandable,” I allowed, turning to look in the mirror once Anna proclaimed she had finished my alterations.

“What do you think?” she asked, beaming with a mixture of excitement and relief. She was probably glad to be finished since I made such a big deal out of the tight corset currently suffocating my poor lungs.

I studied my reflection with a bored gaze. The idea of playing dress-up for the Court Royals was unappealing, even if the colors of the gown were rather beautiful. “When am I expected?” I asked instead.

“My mistress informed me to escort you downstairs as soon as possible. Apparently, the King will introduce you formally to the Court before the choosing ceremony is set to commence.”

I offered my reflection a reassuring look before fussing over the lace of my dress sleeves. They were unexpectedly uncomfortably, scratching at the tender skin of my wrists. “Well, I certainly don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“Shall we?” Anna asked, opening the door to my quarters wide to invite my immediate exit. I grinned at her meticulous organization, deciding it was better to entertain her desire for timely attendance.

However, I eventually discovered why Anna was so insistent when we found Miss White waiting for us at the entrance to the throne room. I could tell that Miss White was furious at our tardiness, directing a reprimanding look in the direction of my handmaiden before addressing me formally. “You’re late.”

“It’s my fault,” I said with a bow. “Forgive me, ma’am. I insisted on taking extra time to prepare myself for the King.”

Miss White sighed. “I suppose we can make an exception. However, it’s best not to keep his majesty waiting any longer.”

“Of course,” I said, holding my breath when Miss White signaled for the guards to finally open the heavy doors of the throne room.

Once inside, my eyes were immediately attracted to the enormous throne cathedra directed in the center of the room. It was immense in size, and I was shocked when I realized that it was made entirely of gold, decorated in an elegant pattern of swirls and ancient lettering. Unsurprisingly, its current occupant, who was adorned in a gorgeous traditional hanbok, was my new King and he appeared every part of the infamous Royal I had heard about since I was a child in my small village. He was much older now, but his stern features served as a reminder of his immense power; and standing next to him were three beautiful women who wore gentle floral arrangements as delicate headpieces. A clear symbol of their status.

“Your highness,” Miss White greeted the king with a generous bow, encouraging me to do the same with a fierce look in my direction.

“Rise,” the King said, but his tone was not as aggressive as the kind smile he offered me. “Greetings, Mage.”

“Your majesty,” I replied before clearing my throat. “I am honored to have been chosen for this rare honor.”

“I am pleased to accept your generous words,” the King said. “After all, you are the one who is willing to protect my Kingdom.”

I nodded. “It is my duty now, your majesty, and I accept full responsibility.”

“Very well,” the King nodded and he now stood tall as he pointed in the direction of the three women I noticed from before. “Let’s make introductions. These are my wives, Queen Seo-Yeon, Queen Hyun-ae, and Queen Eun-Jung.”

I studied the three Queens carefully, taking in their feminine features, before offering a bow in return. From just a simple glance, I had already discerned that Queen Seo-Yeon was clearly displeased with my presence while the other two shared similar looks of distrust. Of course, this could be considered a trivial matter until I had proven myself worthy in the eyes of these powerful Royals.

“Squire,” the King spoke again, directing his words to a well-dressed man whose arms were crossed over his chest. “Please introduce my sons.”

The squire offered a polite nod in return. “Prepare for the entrance of our Kingdom’s Princes!”

On the opposite side of the room, a new pair of doors opened and two guards stepped inside before retreating to their posts, allowing a neat line of young men to enter with cordial posture and matching hanboks painted with colors of yellow and black. The King’s sons were clearly on their best behavior, acting to their appropriate status as they kneeled before the King. “Rise, my sons,” the King said. “As you are called.”

The squire cleared his throat. “The first Prince, Chan.”

The elegant young man stepped forward into position. His hair was practically golden beneath the harsh lights of the candles simpering in their stations along the base of a brilliant chandelier. It made him look almost like an angel, blue eyes wide and considerate as he bowed politely to his father who only briefly acknowledged the existence of a son he probably scorned...Speaking of which, I couldn’t help but notice that Chan’s wife was not next to him. In fact, the only women currently present in the room included the King’s three wives, myself, and Miss White.

“The second Prince, Minho.”

The elder son stepped forward promptly and I immediately noticed the way the King’s gaze lingered on the man who bowed before him. Minho was surprisingly youthful given his age, dark brown hair curtaining the softer features of his countenance coupled with dark eyes that remained fixed to the floor before he stood proudly. It reminded me of the way the warriors in Ancient Times would behave when they addressed their superiors, quaint and old-fashioned in their strict natures.

“The third Prince, Changbin.”

I frowned at the arrogant smile adorning the sculpted lips of the King’s son. He was obviously very sure of himself, striking in appearance because of his long, silver hair and the dark eyes that greedily drank in the sight of the empty throne in the background. Changbin definitely stood out, but my initial impression led me to believe that his appearance might not necessarily be as deceitful as I wanted to believe.

“The fourth Prince, Hyunjin.”

A kind soul, timid in nature as he took a hesitant step forward. One hand combed through the dark strands of his silky hair, eyes searching the presence of the King’s wives before he bowed. I realized only a moment later that Hyunjin was the only son who even bothered to acknowledge the other women, which certainly demonstrated the respect he obviously felt for the beautiful Queens.

“The fifth Prince, Jisung.”

His mischievous leaning was obvious in the dramatic way he leaned forward, bowing low at the waist before scrambling into position. It drew a laugh from Queen Hyun-ae who I could only assume must be Prince Jisung’s mother. In any case, it was obvious he didn’t take these proceedings too seriously, outfit slightly disheveled and blonde hair messy in wavy strands.

“The seventh Prince, Seungmin.”

I swallowed hard, remembering my encounter with Prince Seugmin in the gardens with Anna. Despite the way he treated the handmaiden, he now appeared to be the picture of goodness, bowing politely and adjusting the collar of his well-pressed shirt. An outfit likely made for him by the very handmaidens he showed little appreciation for, especially when it came to exerting his influence.

“The eighth Prince, Jeongin.”

He was the picture of childish innocence with a smile that was impossible to ignore. There was a stumble, quickly rectified by the Prince’s emphasized posture, attempting to stand as straight as possible. Still, a chuckle could be heard from Prince Jisung and Queen Seo-Yeon had rolled her eyes in obvious exasperation. It was a curious reaction, considering the boy was extremely young and did not possess the same finesse as the rest of his siblings.

But then again, perhaps most curious of all was the absence of the fourth Prince who was never acknowledged alongside his brothers. It generated many questions; most importantly, where was this mysterious Prince? Was he busy in another Kingdom, or maybe he had been sent away for a special assignment?

“Before the ceremony begins,” the King announced, beckoning me forward. My eyes immediately dropped to Seungmin whose accompanying smirk was positively devilish. “Our new Court Mage arrived this morning.”

From his side, the King’s three wives also bowed again in my direction and I noticed they were also dressed appropriately to fit their status. “It’s a pleasure to serve my Kingdom,” I said with a simple nod, glaring back at Seungmin who seemed to enjoy my attention far too much.

“Y/N is one of the most powerful magic-users in centuries,” the King continued, offering me a gentle smile. “She will make a worthy successor to those who have come before.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” I said, bowing once again to the King who seemed content with my humble expression of gratitude.

The King turned back to address his sons, several of whom visibly faltered under their father’s attention. “Now that my sons are here, I’d like to explain exactly why we’re gathering on this fine evening. You see, currently waiting in the ballroom is a room full of distinguished guests who have gathered in full anticipation for the announcement of the next successor to the throne.”

There was an array of distinctive reactions from the King’s son, but I couldn’t help but notice the way Prince Changbin stood taller with a visible smirk that sent a shiver down my spine. “I want everyone to behave for tonight’s proceedings, regardless of the outcome.”

A monotonous chorus of agreement came from the seven sons who each offered some version of a polite bow. Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but notice a strange scuffle from behind the closed doors of the throne room...

The barrier was abruptly disturbed upon the haggard appearance of a royal guard who entered the room without approval. “Your highness!” the distraught voice shouted above the white noise filtering inside the room. The guard was panting hard, helmet askew as he frantically glanced back over his shoulder. “I tried to stop him...” His words trailed off with a wince, the door slamming further back against its hinges at the behest of another unanticipated arrival.

“The invitation was lost in transit, I assume?”

A cold despondency took over the previous jubilance masking the King’s countenance. “Prince Felix,” the King growled.

I shivered at the hostility in the King’s tone, turning my attention to the young man walking rapidly in our direction. Felix carried an immense dark aura, hair a gorgeous burnt orange color that glowed with the fiery temperament masking his words. His eyes were a vivid green that glinted with his obvious disdain for the King I was now meant to serve. But the most charismatic feature was the dark mask obscuring the skin around his left eye, accentuating the sharp profile of his jawline. “Your majesty,” Felix snarled. “I’m offended that I was not called to partake in the choosing ceremony.”

“Why are you here?” the King returned with equal hostility. “You’re meant to serve the Northern Kingdom.”

“Consider it a temporary arrangement,” Felix offered cooly. “How could I possibly miss this occasion?” He turned around, hands behind his back as he offered his seven brothers a shallow bow. “Forgive my late arrival.”

“Only if you’ll tolerate my confusion,” the King practically growled. “I hardly think the Northern Kingdom gave you permission to leave their court.”

“I took special liberties,” Prince Felix replied with a cool smile. “His majesty found no fault in an obedient son wishing to celebrate the crowning of a cherished sibling.”

The King snorted at Prince Felix’s blatant sarcasm. “I suppose there is little I can do now that you have arrived.”

“You could forbid him from attending the ceremony,” Queen Eun-Jung said, glaring at Felix with an intensity that only highlighted just how similar the two opposing forces appeared according to the delicate lines of their features.

“Yes, but we both know that Felix has a way of disobeying orders,” the King replied, regarding his wife with a dismissive shake of his head.

“How generous, your majesty,” Felix said with a smirk. Thereafter, his gaze suddenly rested on me with suspicion. “Who is this?”

“Our new Court Mage,” the King replied.

“A pleasure,” I managed, refusing to break away from Felix’s gaze.

“The guests are waiting in the ballroom,” the King sighed. “This issue will have to be resolved later.”

I frowned at the King’s willing compliance, seemingly sedulous as he ordered everyone to put on their best behavior for the castle’s guests. Accordingly, the King slowly led the way, followed by his sons and three visibly frazzled Queens who shared matching expressions of bemusement. Felix was the only one who remained out of place, trailing behind everyone else until he paused in the entranceway to look back at me with obvious distrust. Thereupon, despite the King’s command, I still waited until Felix broke our intense stare to proceed with the other Royals.

The ballroom was flooded with elegantly dressed Royals adorned in their neat hanboks and flowery gowns sweeping across the floor with grace and poise. It was almost too glamorous, and I felt slightly out of place considering my status and position in the castle. Instead of socializing, Anna and I lingered around the perimeter of the dance floor, keeping an eye on Felix because I had a strange feeling about the wayward prince.

“What can you tell me about him?” I asked Anna and she quickly followed my gaze.

“Prince Felix was obviously an unexpected surprise,” Anna told me. “He was sent away when he was a very young boy to satisfy our closest neighbors in the North.”

“Why does he wear the mask?” I asked her, ensuring that nobody was overhearing our conversation.

“There are rumors,” Anna said. “But none I can confirm. I’ve heard many stories about Prince Felix and some of them are rather horrible.”

I considered Felix from afar, watching as the young prince took a preference for the shadows of the room, eyes watchful as he considered the other occupants. For a brief moment, our eyes met from across the room and I stood taller, meeting the challenge in his gaze with one of my own. Felix smirked, apparently amused by my actions, turning away to speak to a passing guest who was visibly startled by the young prince’s attention. “He must be very dangerous,” I remarked to Anna. “Everyone seems afraid of him.”

“I’d imagine so,” Anna shivered. “I would certainly never want to cross paths with Prince Felix.”

At that moment, I decided to take it upon myself as the castle’s best line of defense to pay close attention to the movements of Felix. I would study him as he interacted with the other Royals, and watch him closely for any suspicious activity. If he so much as breathed the wrong way, I wouldn’t hesitate to unleash the magic demanding to make itself known from deep inside of me.

“The King is about to make his announcement,” Anna whispered to me, perhaps sensing I was distracted.

I reluctantly pulled my gaze from Felix, finding the King standing at the foot of his thrown with a welcoming smile. “Ladies and Gentleman of the gathered court,” the King began, enchanting the gathered crowd who all broke their conversations to focus on their revered leader. “Tonight, we are celebrating a very special occasion.”

The guests broke into applause, polite and reverent, stopping in synchrony as the King waved his hand. “You’ve been very patient with this old King, and as much as I love serving this kingdom, I must now face the inevitable. As such, I want to name one of my sons before my gathered friends to shadow me from this moment until he wears the crown that we all cherish.” The King paused for a moment, waiting for his eight children to line themselves by order of age before their powerful father. Behind them, the Queens waited patiently, but I easily detected the flicker of anticipation behind their indifference. “I now have the honor of naming my son, Prince Minho, as the successor to my crown!”

There was an audible gasp from the crowd as several of the guests exchanged gestures and expressions of shock at the announcement. Even Prince Minho appeared startled by the revelation, only moving to accept the King’s invitation following a push from his mother, the beautiful Queen Hyun-ae who was beaming with pride.

“Your highness,” Prince Minho replied once he managed to kneel at his father’s feet. “I am at your disposal.”

“My son,” the King smiled, touching his fingers against the side of Prince Minho’s blushing face. “I know you will serve your people well.”

The King’s words seemed to have a positive effect on the other guests who started to cheer and applaud for the chosen successor. The ballroom was filled with the sound and Prince Minho was blushing, hanging his head sheepishly as he experienced the effects of such reverence and adoration. Of course, not everyone shared the same exuberant attitude, and I watched Prince Changbin carefully, noting how the younger boy was refusing to celebrate with everyone else, glaring at Minho with dark foreboding.

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hopevalley · 3 years

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The Real Problem with the Love Triangle

Here we are, in Season 8, and I feel like I’ve finally settled on what it is I hate about the love triangle.

I mean, there are a lot of things wrong with it. It divides the fans, it splits the attention of the scenes between two “potential” romances instead of one certain one, and, perhaps one of its biggest offenses: it’s in the spotlight due to the fact that the plotline was given to the main character.

I could talk about all of these, and I could do it all day, but let’s just look at them quickly (because I do feel there’s a bigger issue than any of these at play, here).

It divides the fans. Yikes? They clearly expected some kind of...I don’t know, Twilight-era Team Jacob/Team Edward split, but Twilight’s endgame was always painfully clear. It’s not that fans weren’t disappointed by the reality when it hit, but...I don’t think many people were...genuinely surprised by it, either. Splitting the fans of an already itty-bitty teeny-tiny fandom was maybe not the best idea, but I guess I can see why they took the risk. After so many characters left the show in S5 (Frank, Dottie, Phillip, Shane, Jack) they probably felt they had to do something drastic to keep the fans invested in the show.

It splits the screentime between two potential romances instead of one certain one. This is less yikes in some ways and moreso in others. The biggest issue with this is mostly that When Calls the Heart has limited screentime to begin with, so splitting screentime and therefore also believable development of any romance makes everything take twice as long to happen, which can either bog down the show (if they take the time to do things correctly) or everything will feel rushed (if they skip proper character development).

It’s in the spotlight. Obviously they had to do this to get attention from the fans, but I can’t help but think that a genuine love triangle for a side character/background character might have been a more appealing option story-wise. Having the focus of the triangle be on Elizabeth means that most of the fans are very invested in their choice...which is GREAT up until the point where it’s suddenly not anymore. Writing yourself into a position where approximately half of the fanbase will be disappointed, perhaps even to the loss of their viewership when things don’t go their way (this is always a risk) is...maybe not the best idea. I can’t imagine anyone would quit over a minor love triangle storyline (for example, Bill/Molly/AJ or Fiona/Kevin/Hickam). Sure, you won’t have the level of engagement in the fans that Lucas/Elizabeth/Nathan brings to the table, but I think it could be fun while also not really risking anything. Not many people would stop watching if Fiona picked Hickam over Kevin, you know?

There are other problems with the love triangle and the concept/use of it, but I think the writers at least tried to make it feel balanced. Did they succeed? Well, that’s personal opinion, so I won’t get into that, but you can tell the effort was there from the start.

So we have a love triangle. Lucas and Nathan are both vying for Elizabeth’s affection, and the crux of Season 8 is: she needs to choose one of them.

Which brings me to my thesis statement.

The problem with the love triangle is that the choice is limited to two options.

She chooses Nathan.

She chooses Lucas.

I think logically as a fan and as a writer who occasionally does enjoy trashy tropes, it’s really no surprise that one of these choices is going to be endgame. What’s annoying—what hurts the love triangle the most—is that they are also the only options presented to the audience. They are the only options Elizabeth and those around her are openly considering.

In reality, there are at least three options.

She chooses Nathan.

She chooses Lucas.

She chooses nobody/to remain single.

We all know When Calls the Heart is a romantic “period drama” so naturally the writers leaned into writing the romance. And again, we know that one of these men is endgame.

But when you’re writing something like this, a plotline that is most assuredly risking future viewership to some degree, you can’t really forget that Staying Single is equally as good an option as Lucas or Nathan.

It’s made worse with things like time skips. Elizabeth has had plenty of time to make a choice if she wanted to make one. She’s obviously not that attached to either man if she’s just going to leave them hanging like that. I think it could be argued that she’s avoided letting herself get too emotionally intimate with either of them on purpose—because she’s scared to try again after what happened to Jack, she’s afraid of having to feel like that again—but that lends credence to my thesis: if she’s not that emotionally attached, and she’s not ready to actually move forward romantically, then...Staying Single is looking like a great option.

But...not one character in the show has told her that. No one encourages it. Not Rosemary (which I sort of expect), not Bill or Henry or Florence (who all seem likely candidates), not anyone. It’s not like Elizabeth’s still heavily mourning Jack (if so, I could see her friends eagerly encouraging her past that). She seems perfectly content by herself and is seemingly doing a good job of raising her son. She doesn’t need a man. She doesn’t act like she wants one.

So why does she have to choose between TWO of them?

What could fix it? Not much at this point. Elizabeth said ages ago that she was ready to move on, or at least try, and that was followed up by all of her friends (Rosemary and Clara specifically) being extremely pushy about how she needed to find romance again. Not once were all of her fears/anxieties seriously discussed and validated.

The best they can do now is have someone close to Elizabeth point out that if she’s not ready to move on, or simply doesn’t want to get involved in a romance again, she doesn’t have to pick anyone (but should be honest with both Lucas and Nathan that she’s not looking for that kind of commitment in her life). It’s also possible that Elizabeth herself could come to this conclusion and speak it aloud to a friend like Rosemary. Just because both men are interested doesn’t mean she has to pick either of them.

I know the fans have been really frustrated at the triangle, specifically how drawn-out it’s been, but I think the reason for that is that Elizabeth’s character has been written in this...really confusing sort of way where...she’s understandably not ready to move on right after her husband has passed away, but even though she’s still in mourning the “potential suitors” get shoved down her throat (and ours) for two full seasons. We (and she, by extension) never get the idea that she could just choose to stay single. The next “logical” step is to choose a man. And that would be fine if she were like Mary Dunbar from the first season, but...she’s the main character. We should see her considering all of her choices.

And like, not to be a fun-killer, but...everything from the past few seasons makes me think she’d just be happier single. That’s the issue, too, with not giving Elizabeth “staying single” as a valid choice: we’re all kind of at a point where we all see how poor her relationship to both suitors is and we’re like, “Hey...maybe neither of them are good options for her at this point in her life.”

Certainly the ensemble-style show lately has contributed to less screentime for Elizabeth and therefore also Lucas/Elizabeth and Nathan/Elizabeth stuff, but I think this could all be fixed if...her choice wasn’t between the two of them, but between choosing to date again vs. choosing not to. She has a career. She has a child. She has a lot of friends. She doesn’t NEED a man, so I want “choosing a man” to feel like...she actually WANTS to date. She WANTS to be romanced. She WANTS physical affection/sex/to be loved and cared for in a romantic fashion.

If I felt that Elizabeth was wholly into the idea of romance and dating and finding someone to live out the rest of her life with, then I might feel good about the love triangle, and about her trying to decide which of two decent men she’d like to allow to court her first.

But because she doesn’t seem eager to court or date, we feel like she never made the decision to move on, and as a result of all of this and the writers trying to keep the love triangle balanced (which unintentionally makes her seem equally DISINTERESTED IN BOTH MEN), her relationships with both Lucas and Nathan feel flat and uninspiring.

TL;DR? The love triangle should have been presented from the start as Nathan vs. Lucas vs. Staying Single, and then we wouldn’t be in a situation where she’s known these men for two+ years and has been ready to move on for more than one of those years, and still doesn’t feel like she knows either man well enough to choose which of them she might like to court.

If we would have started with three choices, she could have spent all of Season 6 working on eliminating one of the options (staying single, in this case) while also being open to CLOSE friendship with both Lucas and Nathan*. Then, in Season 7, she could find that while it’s flattering to have the attention of two good men, it’s emotionally draining and anxiety-inducing to feel she has to choose between them as she likes them both a great deal and doesn’t want to hurt either of them.

*I think they were sort of trying for this, but it fell flat. It would have been ideal to have Lucas and Nathan confide in Elizabeth about deeply personal/emotional things that never leave those scenes. Fears, concerns, they could have some inside jokes... In order for a love triangle that lasts a long time to work, she has to feel very close to both men...and right now she doesn’t feel close to either of them.

As an aside, the love triangle would definitely feel softer around the edges if it wasn’t pushed from Day 1 as a Thing They Were Doing. Elizabeth forming close friendships with two men without TPTB ever saying anything about romance (let alone a love triangle) would have given the characters time to feel like they’re friends first. What we got was romance shoved down our throat (à la “Elizabeth’s still in mourning because her husband seriously just died BUT ALSO LOOK AT THESE TWO NEW MEN... WHICH WILL SHE CHOOSE WHEN SHE’S READY TO MOVE ON?!”) which put too much pressure on the triangle and the characters/interactions from the get-go. It felt like they jumped from brand-new acquaintances to love interests in the span of five minutes...which is, you know...bad.

#when calls the heart #analysis and meta discussion #character studies and information #elizabeth thornton #long post

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jimlingss · 4 years

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The President’s Son [15]

Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 15.5 OR Chapter 16

➜ Words: 2.7k

➜ Genres: 100% Fluff, Slice of Life, Bodyguard!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Taehyung is the President’s son, mischievous and playful, and infamous for being a troublemaker. When everyone’s given up, they call for you to be his personal guard. There’s no other choice when your dad’s assigned you to it and surprisingly Taehyung doesn’t mind either. Maybe because you happened to grow up with that brat.

It’s getting harder to understand Taehyung. And even harder to comprehend your reaction.

“Hold my book for a second, dumbo.” He rudely chucks it aside, and you barely manage to catch it. It’s piled on top of the other textbooks you’re holding for him like a maid, the tower tipping back and forth, nearly spilling all to the ground. Your glare is unforgiving. “Can’t you ask me nicel—” Taehyung suddenly drops down. “Your shoelaces are untied.” “O-oh.” The college student ties your sneakers gingerly, making sure they’re secure. He loops two bunny ears around the knot and then stands up with a smile. “All done! Now you won’t trip. I can’t always be there to catch you.” Taehyung takes his book off the pile you’re holding and walks off. You’re left staring at his backside before you pick up the pace, unable to help feeling a little perplexed and caught off guard. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to understand him and predict his actions — but it’s not like they were ever predictable in the first place. He’s always had a knack for spontaneity. It’s your susceptibility to surprise, that’s changed. “I know you said you weren’t hungry—” Taehyung sits down across the picnic table and slides a brown bag towards you. “—but I got you the jelly doughnut. It was on discount. You liked this one, right?” “Y-yeah. Thanks.” You watch him go to town on his hash brown, chomping like a ravenous beast. You’re agitated, muddled, but also more than that. You’re not sure what this emotion is. It’s puzzling to pinpoint, challenging and strenuous on your mind. You just know it’s different from annoyance, disenchantment, and the usual disenthrallment. “Oh, look!” Taehyung’s pointing to your left shoulder. When you look down, you’re unable to see what he’s indicating. Running out of patience and without thinking twice, he leans himself over. You flinch back on natural instinct, but he’s undeterred, paying no mind to the reaction that’s conditioned you since childhood. You feel his chest hovering above yours, thin lips a millimeter away, and you hold your breath. But Taehyung’s eyes are nowhere near your body; his stare isn’t greasy or purposely flirtatious. It stays quiet for a moment too long before he draws back. “It’s a ladybug.” Taehyung shows you with a grin, one that had landed on your shoulder, and one he sets down into the grass behind him. “See you later, little guy.” You’re absolutely bewildered, though finally able to breathe again. There are times Taehyung’s unbearably cheesy and teasing, trying to get under your skin or vying for a reaction when he yearns for a kind of attention he receives from nowhere else, much like how he was when he was a kid. But the times that affect you the most are his unintentional actions — when he’s being sincere, genuine, his innocent self. You’re not sure what to think of it. It’s confusing. And the worst part is you can’t comprehend Taehyung lately — your own head’s become chaotic and you’re not quite certain of the reason for it. “Y/N, hang on tight.” Taehyung pedals harder and glances over his shoulder. “The road ahead’s under construction. It’s gonna be bumpy.” “Want to switch spots?” “Nope,” he sings. “Just hold onto me.” You obliged, grasping onto him, locking your wrists together around his waist. Apparently it’s not enough. “Tighter.” Your head leans on him, front pressed against his back, holding on. Taehyung laughs, the noise drawing out from his chest, and you can already envision his satisfied grin. “Good.” You wonder since when his laugh became so melodic and pleasant to listen to. It seems when he’s not trying whatsoever, he’s the most charming. When Taehyung’s not trying to flirt or retain intense eye contact or shower you in excessive compliments — and instead being his mischievous self, caring in quiet ways without making a whole show about it, laughing and smiling — he’s the most charismatic, much like his dad. The magnetism that draws people in seems to run through the Kim blood. Maybe you just never realized it before, but stepping back from your own biases and objectively analyzing him, Taehyung is rather appealing. He has a handful of good traits, and you’ve noticed the way females and males murmur as he walks past or stares across the room, not quite because of malicious rumours either or due to his status. He’s a tall, strapping, blonde fellow. Even before when he had shaggy hair and was trying to grow a moustache, he wasn’t terrible on the eyes. Now that you recognize it, you gotta give it to him...he’s impressive in many ways. You wonder why you’re only recognizing this now. Why you didn’t see it sooner. Maybe your childhoods that overlapped inhibited your perception and clouded your judgment, or perhaps you had learnt to overlook such trivial details. But if there’s one thing that you’re beginning to learn about Taehyung, it’s that he’s the most attractive when he’s serious. You wish more people saw him like this — they wouldn’t take his words or opinions for granted otherwise. Though now that you know this, you don’t really need a front row ticket to it... “You want to what?” “I want to draw you.” “Absolutely not.” “Why?” Taehyung pouts and he doesn’t know it’s because you don’t want him to stare at you intently, because it would be too intimate for your liking. As good as you are at pretending you’re a statue at social events, this is not part of your job description. The last thing you are is a piece of art. “I promise it’ll be quick. Half an hour, tops. I just need a rough sketch of someone as part of my portfolio.” A sigh befalls your lips. “Can’t you pick someone else?” “I don’t have anyone else. C’mon, it’s for school. Don’t you have to make sure I’m doing well in my schooling too?” “But…” You look down at yourself. You’re not one to pay mind to futile things like your outer appearance, but you know you’re not in appropriate attire to be sketched. Once it’s permanently on paper, there’s no going back or reversing time. “I’m not even dressed properly, Taehyung.” “You look fine,” he emphasizes and reaches over, grabbing your elbow. Taehyung walks you towards the center of the small studio. He turns you away from the sunlight, holds your shoulders and scoots you an inch to his right until it’s to his liking. “There. Good. Now stay still, okay?” He smiles and struts back, plopping down onto his stool. With a sketchbook in hand, he looks up and begins. The sound of graphite scratching against the paper fills the space between the four walls. It’s awkward, dreadful as you stare straight at him, and you release your held breath. “Do you want me to pose?” “No.” There’s a full ten seconds of silence. “Just stay still.” You feel out of place, stiff. The only thing you do is blink and barely breathe, not wanting to ruin his efforts. “Can I ask you something, dumbo?” Taehyung mutters out of the corner of his mouth, eyes still pinned to his sketchbook. “I...guess.” “It’s kind of a stupid question, but I’m really curious as to what you’ll answer. So….think about it before you answer.” He hesitates for a moment and then goes for the kill. “Would you ever date me?” “What?” You blink at him, unsure how to answer. “Don’t move,” he suddenly barks out and you freeze at once, catching yourself halfway to stepping forward. “Thanks. Anyways I said, would you ever hypothetically date me or go out with me?” “I don’t date.” “Yeah, but let’s pretend that you did,” he mutters again and doesn’t even look at you properly to read your expression. Taehyung’s still concentrated, brows furrowed, the tip of his tongue peeking past the seam of his lips. His pencil comes out to measure something and then he quickly returns to the sketchbook. It’s not uncomfortable when he’s not full on staring and waiting for you to respond. There’s less pressure when he gives you time to reply. “Well….that would be highly unprofessional. I’m your bodyguard—” “Then let’s pretend you’re not,” he says carelessly as if this is small talk or a game of ‘would you rather’ to pass the time and make you less bored. You hum, unintentionally relaxing in your spot as you give in and consider this what-if scenario he’s handed to you. “In a hypothetical world where I happen to have enough time and commitment to want to even date and I’m not your bodyguard and we happen to run into each other and we got the opportunity to go out….in a non-platonic sense…” “Yes.” “I….don’t know.” “Wow, that’s it?” The corner of Taehyung’s mouth curls, but it’s a dangerous question. You’re uncertain of what he wants you to say, what you want to say. The possibility of such a circumstance makes your palms clammy. “Well, I wouldn’t know.” You shrug. “You kind of have to be in the moment to know.” “Hmmmm, I see.” The artist at work nods to himself. “Interesting.” As reckless as it is, you find yourself asking, “How about you?” “Me? Yeah, I’d date you. If you’d even let me.” Taehyung laughs and a smile appears on your face. He announces it like he’s so sure of himself, and it almost makes you...nervous. But you’re probably sweating from the heat of the room. “I don’t see why not.” “But why me?” you question. “Like you said, I’m emotionally stunted. And I wouldn’t be able to offer you anything.” It doesn’t make sense to you — you’re not exciting, adventurous, or fun. The type of person you imagine Taehyung to be with, you can’t find any shred of it in yourself. In fact, you feel more like a drag on people’s lives. The sidekick or background character that helps them accomplish one mission and hints them to the next. Never the hero. Most certainly never the love interest. Taehyung’s hand pauses. He glances at you with a frown, earnest in his words. “Don’t sell yourself short. Seriously.” The student continues his sketch. “You’re responsible and hard-working and smart and capable. Most people aren’t like that. They’re not like you. And you keep me grounded. Make sure I don’t make stupid fucking decisions and end up breaking my legs.” The corner of your mouth pulls again. “Okay, fine. That’s fair. But is it really enough to date me in this hypothetical world?” “In this hypothetical world,” he pauses to inhale, “Yes. But there’s so much more than that. I wish you knew. I’d be the lucky one here. Not the other way around.” Your face heats. He gives you more credit than you deserve, but you appreciate the wholehearted praise. For once, he’s not trying to butter you to succumb to whatever he wants, to get you to roll your eyes and banter with him. There’s nothing he can gain from it. It’s meaningful and you’re brought back to the time he told you no one could replace you... “This is going to sound so lame and I know for a fact it’s one sided,” Taehyung mumbles as his eraser scrapes along the drawing you can’t discern from this distance, “but you’re my best friend, Y/N.” Your chest is tight and you meet his eyes, staring at each other. His pencil continues to move on the paper, having sketched your curves, the dips of your waist, the slope of your nose, shape of your lips and strands of your hair. “It’s not one-sided.” Taehyung smiles. He looks down and the rest of the time is spent quietly as he tries to finish, focusing. The conversation sinks down onto your shoulders and unlike his promise, it lasts longer than an hour. But you don’t find it difficult to stay in place anymore under his gaze. Eventually, he finishes and sets his pencil down with a grin. “Good enough. You wanna see?” “Yes. In case you wasted an hour of my life….” You walk over, dragging your sleeping leg behind you to peer over his shoulder. At once, your expression wipes away. He looks up at you in worry. “What do you think?” “It’s….pretty decent,” you admit with an approving nod. “I look so….” Pretty. Happy. The sketch isn’t so rough as he said it would be. It’s a clear drawing of you, standing with arms behind your back, facial expression melted into a sheepish smile. It’s uncanny to how you remember your mother when you used to look at her, back before she became worn down, cynical, disappointed in how her own life turned out. You wonder if this is how Taehyung sees you. In a way that’s so lovely and carefree. “It better be decent. My hand hurts.” He shakes it and stretches his arms above his head with a groan. “I’m beat too.” “Can I get a copy of it? When you’re done….” Taehyung sets his notebook down on the table and spins around in pleasant shock. “You like it that much?” A stupidly wide grin begins to expand into his cheeks. You try to shrug casually. “It’s not bad.” He walks across the room, falling onto the worn sofa in the corner. “I’ll let you have the original when I get it back. Come here.” Taehyung pats a spot beside him, but you glance at the watch on your wrist. “Shouldn’t we go get dinner?” “Yeah, but I’m so tired. Let me rest for a second.” Once you give in, moving to sit down beside him, he scoots closer to you. Side-eyeing Taehyung only causes him to smile. “Thanks, dumbo, for letting me draw you.” “It’s fine. Better than your idea of going bungee jumping.” “I still wanna do that.” “Maybe when it’s not my shift.” “So you can actually join me?” “So I’m not responsible if something goes wrong.” He bursts out with a scoff and a laugh before settling down, tearing his eyes away from the profile of your face he had tried to recreate on paper and failed. He shifts to look straight ahead instead. Another thought bubbles to the surface of his consciousness. “In a hypothetical world where we never grew up together, where you weren’t my bodyguard, if I wasn’t the President’s son, and we met here...do you think you’d be my friend?” “What’s up with you and hypotheticals today?” “I just wish things were different.” “Different how?” “I don’t know,” he says, but you think he does know. You don’t push him to tell you if he doesn’t want to. It goes quiet. Every blink that is taken is heavy. The exhaustion of the day catches up to you, muscles sore, feet aching. But you’re suddenly broken out of your trance when there’s a newfound weight on your shoulder. You flinch from the affection, yet Taehyung stays, chest rising and falling. He’s leaning on your shoulder, fast asleep. Your eyes soften, staring at the icy blonde strands of his hair. Your breath steadies and you sigh gently, allowing him to stay. You don’t notice the way Taehyung’s mouth tugs upwards discreetly, how he sheepishly smiles, noticing the change. Just a month ago, he had tried the same thing and you shoved him off without waiting a single beat…. And just like that, he falls asleep on you, lulled by your scent and warmth. It’s now that you’re sitting right beside him, peace allowing you to think, that you can finally put your finger on the feeling that’s been brewing inside of you ever since he embraced your body in his bed, underneath his covers, and the pair of you fell asleep in each other’s arms. You know it now. And it brings a whole plethora of emotions washing down on you — confusion, worry, fear. You’re agitated, muddled, but also more than that. It’s different from annoyance, disenchantment, and the usual disenthrallment. It’s fluster. Kim Taehyung’s made you flustered.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #taehyung #LOAD UP THE FLUFF

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