#but at the same time its simply not that deep im sorry

[rafyki]

Can't believe people are treating Yotha as problematic while nothing he's done is even comparable to how horrible Arc was in the first two episodes

[beloveds-embrace]

(In which you are a witch living in the woods, and yet the crown’s knights, rather than bringing you to be executed, have taken to protecting you in exchange for your services. Inspired by @nightunite, so all credits to them! (I forgor to add this at first im so sorry </3))

The forest had always been a place of mystery, its ancient trees and thick undergrowth concealing stories older than anyone alive. Deep within its heart, where sunlight filtered in golden beams through the canopy, stood your cottage. Ivy curled up its stone walls, and a garden thrived in the clearing. Wind chimes, crafted from bones and stones, tinkled softly in the breeze, their melodies laced with protective enchantments.

You were a witch, but not the kind whispered about with fear and suspicion. The knights of the realm knew you well- not as a threat but as a keeper of secrets, a healer, and a source of quiet, unassuming power- a companion to turn to when things got rough. You gave them charms and potions, warded them against misfortune, and offered refuge when the weight of their duties grew too heavy. In return, they brought you herbs, rare ingredients, and protection from the crown.

And now, that very same forest seemed to hold its breath as Captain Price approached your cottage, his figure blending seamlessly with the shadows of the trees. You felt the subtle hum of your wards shifting, recognizing the familiar presence and allowing him to pass. By the time his knuckles rapped softly on the door, you were already reaching for the latch with an eager smile.

“Evening, Captain,” you greeted, as warm as the crackling hearth, and stepped aside to let him in. “Come in before the chill settles.”

He nodded in thanks, ducking under the low frame of your door. “Evening, love,” he murmured, setting a small bundle wrapped in cloth on your table. “Brought you some chamomile and wild mint. Picked it near the south clearing on patrol and thought you’d probably have better uses for them than me.”

“Always so thoughtful,” you unwrapped the herbs and inhales their fresh, earthy scent, while John simply watching, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “These are perfect! Thank you, John, truly.”

Your fingers moved with practiced ease as you began sorting the herbs, placing them into jars and tying some into small bundles to dry. The rhythm of your movements seemed to ease the tension in Price’s shoulders as he sank heavily into one of the wooden chairs by the hearth, his eyes on you and only you.

“Tea?” you offered, even though you were already reaching for your collection of loose leaves. You bustled about, waving a hand with a glittery, starry shimer left in the wake of your movements; teapot and teacups toddled around in formation, going to their stations.

“Aye, tea sounds nice. Thank you, love.” He said, removing his helmet and setting it on the table.

You chose a blend of lavender, chamomile, and a hint of rosehip, brewing the mixture in the pot that had seen countless evenings like this. As you poured the steaming liquid into a cup, you murmured a soft incantation under your breath- just a touch of magic to soothe his weary spirit and exhausted body. A soft ting! came as the spell took hold, and for a split second, wispy hands curled around the cup before disappearing.

“Here,” you hummed, handing him the cup. “For peace of mind.”

Price sipped the tea, his gaze fixed on the fire crackling in your hearth that waved at him. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that had developed over years of quiet visits and late nights spent together.

“Long day, John?” you asked gently, breaking the stillness. Your brows were furrowed, leaving creases in the skin of your forehead.

He nodded, hand curling around the cup, and sighed. “Long patrols, longer nights. The crown’s getting twitchy, and it’s falling on us to keep the peace.”

Your face softened. “And yet you still find time to bring me herbs. You’re too good to me, John.”

He glanced at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve done more for us than you realize. The men sleep easier knowing you’re out here, keeping watch in your own way.”

You looked away, focusing on the charm you’d been crafting earlier in the day. Made of braided black thread and adorned with tiny iron beads, it hummed faintly with the protective magic you’d woven into it.

“I made this for you,” you said, holding it out. “It’s for endurance- to keep you strong during the long days ahead.”

Price extended his arm, letting you tie the charm around his wrist. “Thank you, love.” He said, his voice low and sincere. His eyes lingered on yours, a quiet warmth in their depths.

When he stood to leave, you followed him to the door, pausing as he adjusted his armor. As easy as breathing, he tilted his head down as you stepped closer, pressing a kiss to his temple. The bristles of his beard brushed your cheek, and he stilled, letting the moment stretch.

“Take care, John.” You whispered, your hand lingering on his arm.

He nodded, his expression unreadable as he placed his hat back on his head. “I’ll make sure no one stumbles too close,” he said, tone firm- a promise he’s repeated many times, and never once broken. “This place stays yours, and no one will ever know.”

As he disappeared into the trees, the wards around your home seemed to settle, reassured by the promise of the man who had always been your quiet protector. You returned inside, the faint scent of chamomile lingering in the air, a reminder of the steady presence that kept your world safe.

It was not just him, of course, and you eagerly awaited the visit from the other knights who have kept your secret.

Masterlist.

[jammiesjars]

MDNI

Warnings: Accusation of Infedelity, heavily unedited writing (wrote this in a power outage in my notes app xx), fingering, eating pussy, dirty talk, dumbification if you squint REALLY hard.

One message is all it took for you to spiral.

Outrage was an understatement. A month, a single month, into Price’s deployment you had recieved a message from an unknown number. They insisted of Price having an affair with his so-called ‘receptionist.’ Being his wife, you didnt believe it. You and John had been married for years now. He wasnt that kind of man! (You hoped.)

Weeks passed and wheels start turning. Seeds of doubt had started digging into you. The late nights he had stayed at base before his deployment, only sending as much as a quick text of ‘Be home late. Dont wait up.’ Or the necessary secrecy between what happens at his job or deployment were starting to plant ideas in your head you wouldnt have ever had if not for that message. Youre being worn down, and its killing you. Its not like you could ask him; being thousands of kilometres away without any time to do as much as glance at his phone.

So the emotional resentment grew. You find yourself wondering how he could do this to you, crying in your empty home that housed the both of you not long ago. Before you even come to terms with it, Youve packed your bags and lawyered up, letting your resentment fester for far to long without any outside input.

On the third month of Prices deployment, you drive yourself up to base with one intention; leave the divorce papers on his desk to find when he comes back and to leave without confrontation.

Security on base knows you as ‘Price’s missus’ by now, offering a small wave and a smile as you walk by and into your husbands office. You put the papers on his desk, that frustration and hurt bubbling up all over again. He has your wedding photo framed on his desk and it only hurts more. What did you do to deserve this?

You turn to go, heading back towards his door when you hear muffled laughter and the sounds of gear being unzipped and dumped from down the hallway. Theyre back. You pick up the pace, praying you can slip out before he gets close enough to notice. You reach for the door handle, but the door opens before you can even grasp it.

Shit.

And there he is, your eyes drinking in the sight of the awfully more rugged version of your husband; beard outgrown and messy with tired eyes that light up at the sight of you.

That light dies as soon as sees just how mad you look.

“So youre telling me, one message is all it took to lose all fucking faith?” Price practically growls, fingers rubbing at his temples. Hes sat in his chair with you on the other side of his desk, just as furious. “Everything makes sense! The staying late at base, the short messages and lack of updates when your deployed!” You hiss, frustration bubbling over making anything small seem huge.

Price takes a deep breath, a futile attempt to calm his temper. “The shit I deal with doesnt sleep. Theres reasons i stay back that you will never know, love. The law itself, wont let me tell you. Same goes for messages. Im sorry i dont have the time to let you know im okay when im deployed, god knows i wish I did.” He scowls, his gaze so heated and intense that you almost look away despite your own fury.

“And what about this receptionist huh?”

Your tone has changed, soft and shaky. vunerable.

Price’s expression softens, but he doesnt say a word, simply rounding his desk to pluck you out of your own chair and putting you down in his office chair. He sinks to his knees in front of you, hands rested on your thighs. Blue eyes peer up at you, sickeningly sincere. “Love, I dont interact with her unless necessary. This isnt some romance movie bullshit.” Your heart is working overtime, lips parted as guilt bubbles. “You- you understand where my doubt is coming from, though…right? Everything lined up perfectly, and-“

Price simply tuts. “We’ve talked about that pretty little head of yours overthinking too much, havent we?” You freeze, throat drying. You nod. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Yes-“ you croak. “We have.”

Price grunts in approval, his hands now running up and down your thighs.

“Have you been feeling neglected, hm? Is that it? My sweet wife needs some attention?” Price rumbles, his large, calloused hands that have been marked by countless battles now playing with the hem of your skirt.

“You’ve got my attention now, luvie. No need to play these stupid games with me.”

Your mind is already growing hazy; your husbands words making you almost want to forget about this whole incident. A finger hooks onto the waistband of your panties, bringing you back to the moment.

“Stupid games? John i was prepared to divorce you-“ he shushes you, dragging your underwear down your thighs, then your calves and over your shoes before slipping them into his pocket. A cheeky smile graces his face. stupid muttonchops.

“Must’ve left you alone for far too long then, if you were willing to take it this far.”

He slings your legs over his impossibly large shoulders, making you squeak as your pulled forward on the chair.

“Wouldve come home and fucked those stupid thoughts straight out of your head if i had known you were having doubts about my loyalty, sweetheart.”

He presses a messy kiss to your clit, making you gasp. He grumbles something incoherent (“Me? Cheat? Silly girl.”), before licking a long stripe up your neglected cunt, causing your hips to buck. The taste of you after going months without has price groaning into your heat. He eats like a man starved, a mix of desire to prove his loyalty and that he finally gets to taste his wife after being away for so long.

Hes fuming, really. Toward you? No.

Towards whatever stupid bastard sent you that message. He’s glad you didnt notice him slip your phone in his pocket, because he knew you’d be against him hunting the fucker down. You just need a distraction to keep that pretty little head thinking too hard. And he’ll give you just that.

“Oh, my poor sweet wife…” He grunts, before sucking on your clit with a renewed fevor. He pulls off with a lewd pop, two thick fingers replacing his previous ministrations. You’re squirming in his office chair, mind hazy and hips bucking.

“Thinkin’ I was out here cheating on ya’… you know better, love.” He tuts.

His fingers curl so nicely into that spongey spot that makes you see stars. “M sorry-“ you’d slur, “I didnt believe it when I first saw the message I promise-“ you gasp as price presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing in small tight circles.

“Lovie, you stormed in here with divorce papers. Dont tell me you didn’t believe it.”

Your head tilts back as you pant, small gasps slipping past your lips.

“There we go.” Price coaxes, his fingers picking up their pace.

“Wouldnt even cross my mind to look at another woman when my gorgeous girl looks like that as I stuff her cunt full of my fingers.” He coos, watching your face intently as your release crashes down; intense enough to make you writhe and moan.

Price pulls his fingers from you, licking them clean before getting up off his knees. Your throat runs dry, bracing for whats to come even as you grapple your bearings. You’re mentally preparing for Price to be dissapointed, upset with you, maybe even mad.

He analyzes your expression, leaning back against his desk. His eyes scrape over your small form sat in his chair.

“Im not upset, love. That pretty little head of yours had months to overthink that message without a voice of reason.”

Price tilts your chin up.

“Lets just not have to do this again, hm? Then i’ll be mad.”

Its sounds like a threat, but it isnt. Price knows he’ll always be there to talk his beloved wife down from the edge.

[pedriache]

i need need NEED pau cubarsi x reader based on efecto by bad bunny especially the “en tus ojos veo el mar” lyric like GIRL i need this BAD 🙇🏻‍♀️

i love your writing sm ty if you do this 🥰

Efecto — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: Pau had never felt so strongly about someone before. He was fortunately, in deep for you.

Word count: 490+

Disclaimer/s: Allllll fluff ^_^

A/N: i probably didn’t fully follow this through im so sorry for that i just didn’t know what to write so so sorry anon its lowk badookie…

Every second Pau was around you made him feel like he was on drugs. You were an endless high, an endless euphoria injected into him just by your smile. So simple, but it made the boys knees buckle every time.

There he stood, only a few feet away—watching you interact with his friends, your bright smile lighting up your face. Pau could feel every other noise fall deaf on his ears when your laughter flooded his brain.

Pure adoration was evident on the boys face as he watched. It wasn’t simply adoration, it was love. He was in love with you so much so, it consumed him.

He still remembers the first night he met you. You’d been at a mutual friend’s birthday party and he hadn’t been able to look at anyone but you the whole night. When you finally looked in his direction, offering him the sweetest smile, he would never forget the way his stomach churned and he felt sweat trickle down his forehead. Just by a smile you already had his nerves running rampant.

Even a year later, when you were finally his, the feeling was just as strong, possibly stronger.

His gaze followed you as you excused yourself and turned in his direction. Your lips pulled into a smile the closer you got. “Why are you so emo?” You teased, which drove Pau crazy just seeing the slight smirk on your lips.

“I’m not emo, i’m observing.” He rolls his eyes, amusement clear in his tone.

Wrapping your arms around his waist, Pau does just the same, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips. “Are you enjoying the party?” He asks when his lips part from yours.

You nod slightly, tilting your head up to him. Whatever you were saying, Pau wasn’t picking up on. He found himself lost in your eyes, the colors that swirled and tangled together, disappearing into your dilated pupils.

His favorite feature of yours was certainly your eyes. He could get lost in them for hours. They were like a riptide, and he was not about to fight it—sinking deeper and deeper into the water until he was suffocating within you. And every moment of it, God, he loved it.

“Pau?” You drawl out and he could hear the grin in your voice.

“Mhm?” He hums, not bothering to speak—his eye’s still trained in the depths of yours.

Your arms unlatch from his waist and Pau’s mouth forms a deep frown. “You didn’t hear a thing I said! Do you want to go get food or not?”

Blinking, Pau pulls himself from the daze you’d put him in. “Yeah, sure.” He swallows hard, his hands sliding away from your hips so you could tug him in the direction of the food table.

It was clear to Pau that you were oblivious to the affect you had on him and the only made him love you all the more.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pau posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @ar4ujos @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @unx100to @n0vazsq @spidybaby

[mcytanti]

manehare analysis i looooove this freakish duo.

on the surface this team seems very sudden and doesn't make sense i mean they were enemies for such a long time, however, i think they make Perfect Sense Actually.

manehare makes sense because both of them gives what the other wants while acknowledging the place they are coming from. they have a distrust now but i think if they play it right they can have something that lasts across seasons.

we got confirmation today manepear really just loves his little chunguses. (his comment about being a mama bear really stands out to me it was awesome). we saw it earlier in the server with zam, then later with wemmbu and bacon. but all 3 of them didnt satisfy mane in the way he wanted. zam was friendly with the brothers but he was for the most part self sufficient, mane let wemmbu into the bandits thinking he would have to be taken care of but it turns out wemmbu was secretly good at pvp and while he lazy could take care if himself in a fight. bacon never wanted to play ball with mane and refused his advances.

however kab is perfeeeect for mane, she needs his help and his protection but she isnt lazy like wemmbu was. she's intelligent, cunning, and willing to learn so he gets all if the ego boosting of taking care of someone who wants his help but none of the annoyance of a resource drainer (sorry wemmbu but its true 😭).

mane is also perfect for kab, he's filling the void clown has left.

since the start of the season kab has wanted a powerful ally who can stand beside her when she wants them to, someone who can guide her, but someone who is also willing to crush her enemies when asked. she thought clown would be that but when given the opportunity he's been lack luster in the role. she then turned to zam as a guide and a teammate, but he didn't want to be her guiding light and thought it was far too sudden to team plus he was unwilling to do her dirty work so kazam fell apart.

mane, however, has a deep blood lust (wanting to death ban all the revived people is the most notable example of this) so he's perfectly fine with carrying out kab's plans as long as it means they agree on killing. he's also willing to train kab without her having to prove herself like she has to with clown (its in my personal opinion kab would have never proven herself to clown. not because she isn't good but because clown simply isnt interested in her development but thats another matter).

in my opinion the 14 killings is actually really good for this team! it means that kab cannot idolize mane the same way she did clown or zam because she knows that no matter what, mane is dangerous, he's able to kill her and is more than willing to kill her. and for mane despite the 14 killings kab still being willing to work with him must give him a crazy amount of validation because it proves that no matter what happened before kab needs him now

i think as long as the focus on their shared goal they can build a real trust with each other. not like a "i trust you not to kill me" trust but a trust the older lifesteal pairs have, that "i know how you think i know you inside and out and no matter what happens we will comeback together" trust.

however they still have all the potential in the world to fall apart in a pretty spectacular way. like if one of them gets too paranoid and betrays the other, or if they're influenced to betray by people outside the dynamic, or maybe kab's planning to betray from the start and we're all fools for thinking manehare could ever work, or simply losing sight of their shared goal and becoming enemies again. all those things could still happen!

no matter what i just love manehare as a duo. they indulge each other's deepest desires but they have so much potential to fuck it all up it a horrible terrible way. its such a careful balance with them im so excited to see where they go from here

[shuastar]

ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ .4 (JWW)

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴋᴇ!ᴡᴏɴᴡᴏᴏ x ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴄʜᴇꜱꜱ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴡᴄ: 10.2k (oops) warnings: cursing? hot wonwoo, obsessed wonwoo, a lot of tears (this entire thing is more of an angst than anything); y/n acts kind of annoyingly but its all for the plot i promise ᴀ/ɴ: i'm flying back and forth to and from korean rn bc i'm done w midterms rn!! sorry for the delay!! ALSO IM SO PROUD OF SEVENTEEN FOR WINNING 2 DAESANGS OMG; im also trying to go through requests at the same time so if i like dont answer for a while i promise im writing it!! just wait!! anyways, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ᴘʟꜱ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ <3

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ; ɴᴇxᴛ

Wonwoo

Wonwoo would not consider himself a greedy or jealous man.

No, of course not. Why would he be when he could have everything he wanted in the palm of his hands? When he was the Archduke? 

But the sight of her in the winter market roads, dressed too-thinly for the cold biting air of the evening pushes into his chest a stabbing sort of pain he cannot really place. And the sudden tension he feels from her presence, does nothing to ease the tsunami of emotions crashing into his chest. 

The festive winter market of the Capital. The common festive winter market of the Capital. Never had he ever thought of bumping into y/n in the streets of the Capital – without a guard, no less. Although, he thinks, Mingyu serves more than enough of a guard for tonight. He knows that his thoughts are too bitter – too bitter, considering everything she has said, everything she has gone through because of him. Yet, he cannot stop the bile rising in his throat and his fists clenching by his sides as he only watches from the side. 

The familiar, homey scents of warm cider and baked pies mingle with the cold evening air and sprinkles of snow fall around him, yet he can’t seem to pay attention to the stand owners who call for his attention.

He swallows as Y/n moves from the winter flower stall to a jewelry stall. He tries to ignore the way Mingyu laughs at her side, shoulder bumping hers and hand going up to pull her cloak over her head. He tries to ignore the unfamiliar flame of what seems to be anger, regret, or something in between, stoke the fires of his heart, as Y/n simply laughs. And it hurts. It hurts so much because she never laughed like that around him. At least, not since his return. 

He cannot even begin to put into words how gorgeous she looks under the yellow lantern lights and the blinkings of the market stalls. He has just barely enough capacity to recognize how the deep greens and golds of her dress blend in rather unassumingly with the commoners also walking the snowy road. How different she looks when she is far from the palace walls that seem to have always guarded her independent spirit. How joyous she looks when she stares at a piece of jewelry in her hands, fingers running over the blue sapphire in the middle. The gem hangs from the thin gold chain delicately and he can’t help but think how pretty she would look in it. 

He can’t hear the conversation, but he can see Mingyu lean down (curse him for his height), and also inspect the necklace that she is now holding up to his face. 

When Y/n tilts her head, a soft smile gracing her features, Wonwoo’s heart clenches. Almost painfully. Painfully because he recognizes that smile – the smile that used to be locked away only for him when they shared late night tea in his parlor, when he gifted you a diamond-encrusted bangle for your eighteenth birthday, when he danced with you for your debutante, when he went boating with you on a random Thursday afternoon.

Painful because now you are staring up at Mingyu with the same look, some kind of unspoken familiarity in your eyes that he seems to have missed because it sure as fuck wasn’t there when he had left.

At your head tilt, Mingyu leans forward and says something too quiet to catch. But it makes you laugh – loud, brilliant, clear-cut like the most expensive of diamonds. It catches the attention of the people around you and they smile too. And he would if not for the twisting feeling of a knife in his gut because your carefree laugh he only ever heard in the privacy of the night, days ago, flows so naturally when you are with Mingyu. 

What the fuck did he even say? 

It’s a bitter sort of rage. More directed towards himself than anything. But he pins the blame on the prince, opting for an easier way to divulge it fully. It’s easier that way – anger to yourself is easier to let out when directed another way. 

The knife’s presence exponentially sharpens and his throat feels weirdly scratchy when Mingyu gently touches your hand, taking the necklace out of your palm and placing into it a more extravagant piece. Your fingers brush. He can see it from where he is. And he can also see you look up at Mingyu in surprise at his sudden touch – no gloves, too. Were you worried about scandals with Mingyu? He wants to scoff at himself at being this ridiculous, but some shallow part of him wants to yell out your name and whisk you away. Away from Mingyu, away from the market, away from the Capital. To somewhere he can take a deep breath and just let you know. Let you know how much he-

“-Oh, I don’t know, Gyu,” you sigh. 

Wonwoo is surprised at how close his feet had led him to you. If he takes a couple more steps, he can reach out and brush your hair from your shoulders. 

Mingyu just smiles, canines biting down into his bottom lip. “What do you mean? It’s gorgeous. Matches your eyes ‘n everything, duchess.” He gives you a small little wink. It’s teasing, Wonwoo knows. It’s done in passing, which he also knows. But it stirs the pot of bubbling frustration (and jealousy) in his stomach like nothing had ever before. 

And it doesn’t simmer, especially when you just laugh at Mingyu’s words, leaning into his presence to roam your eyes around on other jewels. 

The only thing good to come out of that was your hand slowly letting the bracelet you were holding slip back onto the table. 

Good. It didn’t suit you anyways. 

You need something less flashy. More elegant and timeless. You are breathtaking enough.

He only watches, under the pretense of his hood and perusing through an antique stall, as Mingyu hands you another piece, fingers brushing. Again. 

Wonwoo grits his teeth. 

It’s something small – something that would have gone unnoticed by everyone else. But to him? To him, it feels mocking, almost patronizing and belittling. 

You could have been in his place, it almost says. You could have been the one brushing fingers, tossing an arm around her shoulders, teasing her, laughing with her, buying her jewelry in the Capital night market. Buying her anything she wished for.

Mingyu’s ease with you, the natural way you just take up the space next to him, grates on Wonwoo’s nerves to the last degree. 

Do you two even realize how you look to others? To him? 

Do you realize how his heart clenches at the scene of Mingyu repeatedly suggesting jewelry Wonwoo knows you don’t like, only for you to laugh off his sulking comments about how you and he just don’t have the same taste in exquisite things? 

Have you realized the meaning behind his flowers? His three words he had finally finalized in writing after countless sleepless nights’ worth of letters and love-essays? 

The urge to step forward claws at him – to insert himself, force himself, into the situation – to reclaim some part of your attention he is vying for. But he can’t. He can’t bring his feet to move from their place nor his eyes to move from how you just glance back at your original necklace you chose, studying its gem and masterful metal work. He can’t. Not here. And definitely not now. Still, the thought of walking away feels equally impossible, as if leaving would signify some sort of defeat. 

Wonwoo’s breath clouds the cold air, but he doesn’t notice. He has to force himself to take a step back – back and back and back until he has some reasonable amount of distance between you and Mingyu’s merry little party of two. His gloved hand raises to his chest and pressed hard, as if doing so would stop the chaotic, frantic beating of the muscle. His fingers curl into his coat and he desperately wants to hand you his jacket – wants to place the thick fur over your slightly shivering shoulders (something he tells himself Mingyu would not do, except he knows Mingyu would) – wants to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you close until your cheeks flush in embarrassment at the proximity. He wants to embrace you from behind, placing his chin on your shoulder as you ramble on about the kind of jewelry you like, without knowing that he already knows. He wants to kiss you dizzyingly under the soft snow and cut off your pure sort of laughter. He wants to make you smile and laugh and then smile again just because you were with him. He wants to buy you bouquets of flowers just because he thought of you and send them to your royal advisory meetings. He wants to do those things and more, yet he wills himself to keep composure. 

Not the time, he repeats to himself. Not the time.

She deserves her laughter, he tells himself, though the thought is bitter. Even if it’s not mine to share yet.

And although he wishes it would, the pain does not fade. It lingers in his chest cavity, raw and all-consuming, all-knowing, as he stands there, watching your joy seep into someone else’s laughter. And as Mingyu leans in even closer (terribly ungentleman-like, Wonwoo convinces himself), offering you yet another comment that coaxes yet another bubbly laugh, Wonwoo finally forces himself to turn away. 

He feels a tightness in his chest and a strange thudding in his heart as he stands there, fists clenching as he tries to forget. 

Forget the pain, forget the tears building up, forget what your absence turns him into. 

The crisp night air bites at Wonwoo’s cheeks as he and Soonyoung approach the royal mansion. He would have much rather preferred if Seungcheol had held the Charity Ball in the actual royal palace, but the king had decided to move the venue to a “less extravagant” area, which was only a street down from the palace. So Wonwoo wasn’t too sure what Seungcheol was trying to accomplish except to freeze his palace guests to death as they walked over to the mansion. 

As the tips of the open arched gates could be seen through the winter night’s haze, a warm glow upon the two of them, the mansion’s many windows spillions beacons of golden onto the welcoming courtyard, frozen over with snow. Already, there were many footprints that lined the fallen white carpet, melting the small ice flowers into water again. 

The manor’s golden warmth made the cold knot in his stomach twist further. Beside him, Soonyoung walks with an easy stride – seemingly unaffected by the wintry air or the tension Wonwoo knows he is radiating. 

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight” Soonyoung suddenly says, tone half-teasing, words hanging in the air for Wonwoo to jump and catch in his mouth. “Trying to strategize your grand entrance?”

Wonwoo doesn’t respond, focus already blurring at the edges. His fingers toy with the edges of his scarf.  

Soonyoung casts a sidelong glance at him. “You’re impossible,” he mumbles as he simply flashes his royal knight badge at the soldiers guarding the gate, strolling along. The white of the falling snow blends in nicely with his blonde head of hair. 

“Are you not looking forward to another night of forced smiles and silent judging on your part?” Soonyoung cracks a teasing grin, bumping Wonwoo’s shoulder. 

However, when Wonwoo stays silent, face shadowed as his gaze locks on the mansion, Soonyoung’s grin falters. 

“You okay?” A slant of worry in his voice does not escape Wonwoo and he feels almost guilty for worrying his closest friend. 

Wonwoo swallows, shaking his head as if that would wake him from his trance. “Yes. Yeah, I am. Why would I not be?” He forces a laugh from the confines of his tight throat. It sounds almost hysteric to his ears – as if he was on his last straw. Soonyoung knows, too.

Soonyoung’s eyebrows furrow as he places a firm hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder, stopping him in his place. He turns Wonwoo to face him. “Why? Is it because of her?” 

Wonwoo falters in his forced grin. Just barely. But it’s enough for Soonyoung to notice. 

“Ah,” Soonyoung sighs, clicking his tongue, “so I’m right.” Soonyoung smirks, eyes lighting up in interest but it drops when he realizes the tightness on Wonwoo’s face. “Why the-” he cuts himself off with a gasp. “Wait, please don’t tell me you did something stupid.” 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, lightly shoving Soonyoung away. “Shut up, man,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “If you don’t have anything useful to say, I’m going inside.” Wonwoo resumes his walk down the snow-ridden aisle, down the middle of the courtyard. 

Soonyoung groans. “Wonwoo!” His footsteps are light against the snow as he jogs to catch up with Wonwoo’s wide strides. “You did something, right? What did you do? Huh? What was it? You were literally with me for the entirety of last week!” Soonyoung whines, almost hanging off of Wonwoo’s arm, earning another eye roll from Wonwoo. “Was it bad? How did she react, huh? Why, it couldn’t have been that bad, right?” 

Soonyoung jabs his finger at Wonwoo’s ribs, repeating the same phrases over and over until they reach the entrance of the mansion, huge golden doors guarded by two valets. 

Wonwoo sighs, massaging his temple. “Will you shut up, please? It’s nothing, okay?” To the valet, he hands two pieces of papers, written on them the required name and title announcements of the night. 

Soonyoung stubbornly shakes his head. “You did something. What was it?” he presses as the valets swing open the doors. 

Wonwoo is quiet as his name, along with Soonyoung’s is read out loud for the entire mansion to hear. From his position at the front door, he can see how Seungcheol had turned the entire first parlor of the mansion into a ballroom of sorts. Near the end of the welcoming hall are the charity auction items – the blue sapphire jewelry set and the gold-set ruby diadem. At the call of his name, everyone stops, briefly, before staring up at the entrance balcony where he and Soonyoung are. 

“What was it?” Soonyoung hisses, jabbing an elbow at Wonwoo’s ribs. Wonwoo grits his teeth at the sharp pain, throwing a side-ways look at Soonyoung. 

“Jewelry,” Wonwoo grits out, pushing Soonyoung to start walking down the stairs into the chamber. 

Soonyoung gasps, as if Wonwoo had just said something more scandalous like lingerie or an estate. “When?”

“Last Friday.” 

“It’s been a week?”

“I suppose.”

Soonyoung scoffs in disbelief. “Unbelievable,” he murmurs, almost to himself. He clutches his chest in faux astonishment, eyes blown wider than necessary. “The great Archduke Jeon gifting jewelry – and flowers, I imagine – to a woman he claims doesn’t even-”

“-I don’t need your commentary, thank you very much,” Wonwoo interrupts, voice hard as he and Soonyoung reach, almost, the bottom of the staircase. His eyes scan the open chamber for a familiar face that almost taunts him like a dream. He can’t even control it. It’s natural, instinctive, almost. He needs to see her. He needs for his heart to stop thudding in his chest, just in case this time, she leaves him. Like he left her. 

From next to Wonwoo, Soonyoung lets out a rather loud sigh. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he mutters under his breath. “You send her gifts in secret, pine after her like a lost puppy, and then show up to events like this – which you don’t even like – expecting… What? That she’ll somehow tap into her telepathic reserves and read your desperate mind?” Soonyoung tuts, shaking his head, starting to part with Wonwoo. “Man up, Wonwoo, come on. If you want her that bad, do something.” 

Wonwoo says nothing, his jaw tightening painfully as his teeth grit against each other and his fingers fist at his sides. 

If Wonwoo had to see another fucking interaction between you and Mingyu that ended in laughter from your side, he was going to bust a vein. Most likely the one that was likely protruding from his neck. If he had to sit in the stupid fucking ballroom watching your gorgeous face scrunch up in delight at what someone else says to you, he was going to lose his shit. Here and now, no regrets.

Well, maybe a little regret. But mostly no regrets. 

His eyes trace your figure as you return back to your table, draped in a rich crimson cloth, occupied by a small group (that deep-down, he felt hurt not being invited into): Joshua’s wife, laughing and fan fluttering in animated conversation with Seungcheol, Joshua, who simply leans back in his chair, arm draped over the back of his wife’s chair, you, with your dazzling twinkle in your eyes and the way the light reflected – refracted – off of almost every part of you, and Mingyu. 

Mingyu makes him freeze. The prince leans in ever-so-slightly, a teasing smile dancing on the corners of his lips as he whispers something in your ear that makes you blush like a virgin, lightly slapping his upper arm in protest at his words. Wonwoo tries his best to not walk up and intervene because who was he to decide what you do with your life? He didn’t see you as a duty, thus he doesn’t need to intervene whenever someone is-

Mingyu leans back in his gold-draped chair, a casual arm thrown over the back of your. It’s not the act in itself that bothers Wonwoo (although it does), it’s the way Mingyu’s fingertips drum against your upper arm. Your bare upper arm. Your bare upper arm that should be clean of anyone’s touch (except for his). The prince reaches into his coat pocket, brandishing something akin to a box – neatly wrapped, twinkling under the low light. 

Wonwoo can’t really see your face from where he is – on the other side of the shorter hall, arms crossed, and leaning against a wall – but he can see that you tilt your head, a scrunch of your brows as you probably ask Mingyu what he was giving you. 

Mingyu shrugs, an easy grin on his face, and places the box in your hands, opening the top. Wonwoo sees your eyes widen in surprise, which makes Joshua, his wife, and even Seungcheol lean forward to see what it is that Mingyu had the audacity to give you. 

When you bring it out of the box, Wonwoo has to admit the quality of the gift. It’s a handkerchief, embroidered with amazing detail and an intricate floral pattern. He can make out your initials on the corner and the studded pearls that line the other corner in small mother-of-pearl flowers. 

For a while, you’re silent and Wonwoo thinks you’re going to shove it back in the box and place it back in Mingyu’s pocket. Because that’s what you would do – at least with him. 

But then your lips slowly curve up into a soft, genuine smile – the whites of your teeth poking out – and you launch out of your seat, arms suddenly thrown around Mingyu. And Wonwoo can see all of this unfold in absolute slow motion. It’s all in slow motion — from the way you jump up with a small clap to the way you bring Mingyu in a hug that’s so unlike you that even Joshua’s wife blinks in surprise at your sudden movement. 

Wonwoo can hear your delighted laughter and “Thank you!” even from where he is. Mingyu looks rather flustered at your sudden embrace but seems to brush it off with a quick laugh and a sheepish grin, mumbling something like “if I knew you would like handkerchiefs so much, I would’ve bought more, duchess.” 

God. Wonwoo’s nails presses painfully into his palms when Mingyu leans in again and steals another bout of laughter from your precious mouth. Wonwoo’s chest tightens at the sight. The sight of your joy, so free and unguarded, so genuine, should have been more beautiful. And it is. He thinks you’re the most beautiful person to ever walk this planet and any other – your warm eyes, your pouting lips, your blushed cheeks, your gorgeous peals of laughter, the way you blush under any of his heavy stares. But this time, looking on at you and Mingyu, it filled him with such a shredding visceral sense of loss. A sense of loss at the time he willingly gave up – what you could have been – what you are to him now – what he is to you – what he wants to desperately shout out for the entire world to hear. 

The undulations of the orchestra notes slowly faded out gradually as Mingyu stole more laughter from you. And Wonwoo barely even recognized Soonyoung standing next to him, a hand on his shoulder, saying something. But his voice sounds muted, almost like he’s underwater and she’s the only source of pure oxygen that he needs to inhale to live. All he can see is you. You, you, you, you, you. Just like always. Except this time, Mingyu’s next to you, elbowing you, bumping shoulders, brushing fingers, twirling your hair, gifting you handkerchiefs, for Christ’s sake.

And he suddenly finds himself pushing off the wall (and consequently Soonyoung’s arm and his concerned words of “Where the fuck are you going?”), and slowly walking over to the crimson table. He doesn’t notice the curious glances of the other guests as his growing presence becomes the source of whisperings between tables. All he can he is you. You, leaning towards Mingyu, the faintest of blushes barely visibly but fucking unmistakeable. You and red. Dark red as some carnal part of him – a desperate part of him drowning in jealousy – takes over, flashing warning signs across his brain. 

With every step he took closer to the two, the room seemed to shift around him – air growing heavier and thicker with tension. Before he could stop himself, Wonwoo was two steps away, jaw clenched, head slightly tilted down, arms crossed. The table instantly falls silent when Joshua looks up and blinks, almost surprised at Wonwoo’s intrusion. Seungcheol straightens in his chair, throwing a questioning mouthing of words at Wonwoo (that he completely misses), and Joshua’s wife darting a glance between himself and Mingyu. 

“Is this really necessary?” Wonwoo’s voice is low but it carries. Each word, though he means to not make it so, is clipped and sharp, precise knife points nicking parts of your plush skin. His stormy gaze flickers briefly to Mingyu before fixing on you. It’s easier like this. It feels like he can still reach out and know you’re there. He knows what he might look like – a man without a warrant. And technically, he doesn’t have one. He doesn’t have an extravagant excuse as to why he is suddenly intervening except for the fact that he felt jealous. 

The only thing that falters his confidence is the way your face almost immediately drops at his words. Instead, your expression is replaced with something he can’t quite place – surprise, deliberate coldness, and maybe something sharper. Slowly, you rise, your silk gown flowing down your form. He wants to tell you how beautiful you look tonight – how the sage green suits you exceedingly well, how the pearl-drop earrings blend in perfectly with your braided hair tonight – but he notices the necklace that sits in between your collarbones – it’s small, but it’s there. The necklace with the crafted jade and pearl flowers. The one you had periodically gone back to at the Night Market. The one he had, after not-so-deliberate thought, gone up and bought before the end of the night and slipped under your door along with a single tulip. 

“I am confused as to why any of this is your concern,” you say evenly, voice quiet but steady. 

Those words threaten to crack Wonwoo’s composure. He can feel his jaw tighten because he doesn’t know why it is his concern. “This-” he sighs, raking a hand through his hair. He tries his best to swallow down the tightness of his throat. “This act, this pretense with him-”

Your laugh cuts him off. It’s nothing like the one you give Mingyu. It’s sharper, more combined with a set of unshed tears. Wonwoo wants to punch himself. “Pretense?” You whisper, voice cutting through his words like they were made of the thinest grass. It is sharper than the cold air outside, more biting with unsaid disbelief. Your eyes narrow and he can so clearly see the anger simmering inside of them that it takes him off-guard. You take a step closer. His breath catches. 

“You are no one who should be talking about pretense, your grace,” you hiss. And Wonwoo tries desperately to keep his tormented eyes to rest on your eyes, but they flicker hesitantly to your lips, down to your necklace, and then back up to your eyes. “Is this-” you gesture vaguely to the entire group, “part of your duty too? Are you afraid of someone snatching up your convenient little wife before you can call it official?” Your voice slowly rises in pitch the more Wonwoo’s eyes wander. And he swears, it’s not on purpose, but he can’t bear to look at your glassy, tear-covered orbs because he knows then that he will break. He’ll break and bring you into a hug and start murmuring apologies for everything he’s ever done. 

“What is your-” you stop yourself and he knows immediately that you’ve seen his eyes flicker to your lips. You scoff. It’s loud, haunting, taunting. “Fucking look at me,” you snap, hands balling into small fists by your side. Wonwoo looks up into your eyes and it feels like a part of his heart shatters at the sight of your faint dark circles and redness of your eyes. “Your grace, I’ve said this once and I’ll say it only one more time,” you whisper, stepping just one more half-step closer to him. He can feel your dress flutter against his skin and your expensive Capital perfumery perfume waft towards him. “If duty is all you care about,” you choke out, and he can see the way your bottom lip trembles as you continue, “get the fuck out of my life.”

The words hit him squarely in his chest. He can feel his constructed walls tremble under the weight and restrained emotion of your words. 

He swallows down his own set of tears. It’s infuriating, really, having the one person you care about the most strike you down before you can even say anything. It’s frustrating when even he can’t decide to let you be or if he needs you – needs you the breathe, to sleep, to help the blood flow in his veins. 

Around you, the ballroom almost holds its breath. Of course, the dancers still twirled, the string ensemble still played on, but in the one meter radius of you, every table feels frozen, watching a scene unfold that no one dares to interrupt. 

“You still think you’re part of my-” Wonwoo starts, but the way you stare at him almost chokes him out of the rest of his words. He couldn’t even argue against the truth of what you said. On the probability that you had figured out the flowers and necklace were from him, it would have only worked against him in ways he had not properly thought out or even intended. He wishes he could just scream out the words. 

You take a shaky breath, expression almost forcefully hardening as you lift your chin. “Don’t question me, your grace, when you’ve made it crystal clear that your reputation and your title mean more to you than anything else.” He can hear the wavering undulations of your voice, but your resolve, whether forced or not, held firm. It held the entirety of your sentences together. “So yes. I’m going to keep up with whatever it is you think is pretense and you…” you trail off as your eyes rake up and down his body, finally landing on the crest of his duchy by his shoulder. You scoff, “should stick to what you think is best for your Archduchy.” 

Wonwoo feels almost wronged at your words. Is that really what you see him as? Did you really only see him as someone who would do something if it meant for a greater reward for his duchy? His heart thuds in his chest, except this time, it’s in dread. The sting of your words root him in place and the crowd blurs into a scene of motion and moving colors. 

“Then why do you wear the necklace?” he murmurs, more to himself than anything, but you hear him. 

Your hand flies to finger at your necklace, smoothening over the jade pieces. You look down. “A mistake on my part,” you whisper, voice shaking now. Your finger suddenly undo the clasp at the back and the necklace falls into your palm. The jade flowers sit there, like a dejected piece of artwork. Without any more words, you drop the necklace into his palm. The stones feel much heavier than when he bought them – as if they had absorbed some of the weight of your words. He looks up at you – mouth slightly open, eyes blown wide. He can’t even believe it. This feels as if you were finally ending everything. Because you knew the flowers, the jade, were from him. 

“Wait-” he hurries, fingers clenching over the jade. But before he can say anything else, you turn around and Mingyu stands. Wonwoo can only watch as you turn away from him, back straight and head held high, as you walk towards Mingyu, who rests a firm hand on your shoulder. 

“Perhaps, Archduke,” Mingyu says softly, though Wonwoo can hear – loud and clear – the unmistakable warning, “it would be best to just let her be.” 

Wonwoo’s fists clench at his sides. He has to be trembling from the pure forceful restraint he held all night now fraying exponentially at the edges. His gaze lingers on Mingyu’s hand, on the easy familiarity between you and him, on the jealousy that gnaws at his insides. 

Wonwoo can’t bear to speak. The faint scent of your perfume lingers in the air, almost like a cruel reminder of your presence even as you move further away from him. The orchestra swells with the tsunami of his emotion. The triumphant notes almost feel like mockery to the hollowness of his chest. The ballroom returns back to life but Wonwoo can’t seem to remove himself from his position, until he feels a warm hand on his shoulder. 

“Wonwoo.” Soonyoung. “Wonwoo, come on. You’re making a scene,” Soonyoung whispers, pulling his arm. 

Wonwoo stumbles after Soonyoung, feet not leading him in any way. He wants to scoff – to go back up to his room and cry. He had told himself that he could handle this – seeing you, being near you without tapping into any of the feelings he had tried so hard to suppress. But now, at your words, faced with the stunning reality of the depth of your scar, the realistic distance, of you being able to continue life without him, a tsunami of loss threatens to drown him. Because he can’t. He can’t live without you. Because he had underestimated, severely, the pain of it. 

And for the first time, being pulled out of the ballroom by Soonyoung, he wonders if he has lost you for good. If he has no chance anymore of pulling you close to him and kissing you under the starlight again. If he has no chance anymore of you returning his deep-rooted affections. 

y/n

It was kind of sad to see the royal gardens cloaked under both night and the snow. Your hands brush against the winter rose bushes as you walk along the path to the atrium, outfitted with a dying fire in a hearth and hot tea that steams under the wintry temperature. You smile softly at the memories flooding your mind of running through these very gardens when you were younger, laughing and tumbling with all your friends. Smiling during a time that seemed so carefree. 

You wish you could go back. You wish you could go back and experience the carefree again. You miss it. You miss being able to fall asleep at night without trouble, being able to wake up in the morning without cold sweat in a nightmare, being able to go about your day without the constant plaguing thought of him wandering the confines of your mind. 

A soft crunch of a branch startles you. You turn. 

The sight in front of you makes you stumble back in surprise. 

Wonwoo steps up to you hesitantly. It’s more so the expression – the emotions – clouded with something so raw it seems almost not humane in his eyes that stutter your breath in your lungs. Under the moonlight, way past the time both of you should be outside, he looks vulnerable. Much more vulnerable since the last time you saw him at that stupid charity ball two nights ago. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say. It’s quiet but it rings through the empty garden. You want to laugh at how much your voice lacks the conviction you wish it had. You fidget with your fingers as Wonwoo stares at you with an unfamiliar intensity. The rosiness of his cheeks make you wonder if he’s slightly tipsy. 

“I couldn’t stay away,” he rasps, voice a low murmur that carries to your ears, stabbing a long knife in your lung. 

You want to scoff but the deep tenor of his voice stops you from actually doing so. Your arms instead cross over your chest. “Why?” 

You’re not quite sure if you want to hear the reason, lest all of your walls come crumbling down, but you ask anyway. 

Wonwoo steps closer, movements slow as if to not spook you. “Because there are things I need to say – things I should have said years ago.” 

You swallow, head tilted up to look into his eyes. Behind his glasses, tears swim unidentified in his eyes. Rather late of you, you want to say. Instead, you opt on “Say them,” you whisper. “What is it?” 

His jaw tightens. You want to reach up and kiss his worries away. You do, really. For a second, it seems as though he is regretting ever bumping into you, but then he speaks, voice trembling with the weight of all of his emotions. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, hands reaching for yours. You give them up without hesitation – as if your body was acting on its own habitual wants. “I made a mistake. I left because I thought it was the right thing to do. Because I thought I could protect you by staying away – by returning to you with some sort of success.” He falters. “But I was wrong, y/n. I’ve been wrong about so many things.” 

You can feel the foundation of your walls shaking. 

No. No, stay with your resolve, y/n. 

You look away, lips pressing into a thin line. But you don’t pull your hands out of his caress. “You’ve said enough. I want to be with someone who doesn’t disappear the moment duty calls.” 

Wonwoo takes a sharp breath. You can almost feel the unspoken accusations swirl between you. 

“Is that really what you think of me?” Wonwoo's words sound almost bitter. “That I left without caring? That I would risk everything just to avoid you for the time being?” 

“What else am I supposed to think, Wonwoo?” You snap back, your voice rising. You wish desperately for him to leave. If you talk about this any longer, you were going to break. “You left without a word, without confidence in me, and then waltzed back into my life expecting everything to be as it was! But people don’t just fucking stand around waiting-” 

“-You have no idea what you’re saying, y/n.” Wonwoo’s voice is dangerously low now. He steps even closer and you finally register something in his hand. “Do you think I do all of this because it’s convenient? Because it’s an obligation?” he asks. It hurts to hear your words used against you. It hurts even more to hear the pure anger in his voice. 

“Isn’t it, though?” you whisper, stepping back defensively, hands slipping out of his hold. “Wonwoo,” you murmur looking down at your feet briefly, “ the only reason we’re even speaking is because of a scandal. We are simply solutions to each other’s inconvenient situations! What part of that do you not get?” You slam a hand on your own chest. Your breaths come out as puffs of white in the air. You can feel your tears welling up in your eyes. 

Wonwoo stares at you in disbelief, as if he can’t believe he’s hearing you right. His hands curl into fists. 

The next words he utters are low and full of just pure fury (at you or himself, you’re not too sure). His next words almost punch all the breath out of you.

“If you think I’d waste my fucking time, my life, on anyone I didn’t want – on anyone who didn’t mean everything to me – then you never even knew me at all.” 

His words hit you square in the face. It’s so vulnerable, the most emotional you’ve seen him, that it incites another spark in your chest. “But you’ve never been here, Wonwoo. You always leave! You’ve left once and you’ll keep on leaving.” Your own words are a desperate attempt to keep your walls up. You can feel your tears poke and prod and threaten to fall. You can hear your voice shake and your bottom lip tremble at your words. Actually, more of his words. You want to keep arguing. You want him to leave – leave you, leave the Capital, leave your life, but you desperately need him to stay – stay with you, stay in the Capital, stay in your life until you die. 

Wonwoo shakes his head as if he doesn’t agree with you. “You can call it duty all you want, y/n. But it doesn’t change my heart. It doesn't change what I feel towards you. You think I really wouldn’t have stayed if I could help it? You think I’d willingly let someone else have what I’ve always needed more than my next breath?” Wonwoo’s hand comes up to caress your cold cheek, thumb rubbing your cheekbone. 

“Don’t say that shit to me,” you whisper, glassy eyes gazing up at his. You can see the tears that are welling up near the corners of his eyes and if you didn’t have the last remaining thread of resolve left in you, you wouldn’t have kissed his tears away. 

Your shattered heart jackhammers in your chest as Wonwoo stares into what feels like your soul. It makes you feel bare – naked, almost. “Y/n,” he whispers, his voice breaking, “I came back for you.” 

You don’t make a move to leave his warmth, but you look up at him with your own air of defiance. There’s a confusing sort of wreath of emotions that circle your bruised heart, and the words escape you before you can stop them. “You’ve left before. And I would be a fool to not believe you’ll leave again.” 

Wonwoo’s hand stills on your face and he looks so pained for a moment that you wonder if continuing your facade is really a good idea. If it’s better to just give in. “I left to protect what matters, y/n, you have to understand,” he almost begs, desperate for you to just know, “To protect you.” 

You bite your cheek, a single tear falling from your eyes. It’s immediately rubbed away by Wonwoo’s thumb. “And what do you want me to do, Wonwoo?” you whisper, voice bordering on hysterics. “Wait around until you leave me? Again? Do you know the pain of your heart shattering when someone like that just up and leaves?” 

A few more tears fall from your eyes. You can’t even help it anymore. You feel the tightness of your lungs come back again. You can feel yourself start to choke up on your own tears. You can feel yourself start to break down – unwind completely under the softly falling snow. 

“No, no, no,” Wonwoo murmurs, cupping your face, brushing away all your tears. “Y/n please, I left because I had to. But now I’m here. I’m here, and I won’t leave,” he whispers, breath fanning over your lips. 

“I’m convenient, Wonwoo,” you suddenly cry, tears streaming down your face. “You need a partner, not me!” You want to look away, run away, but Wonwoo’s caress on your jaw holds you still. 

Wonwoo’s face contorts painfully with hurt. And you wonder if you have finally pushed him out. But then his jaw sets, like every time he is ready to argue in the royal court. Like every time he is ready to prove his point. “If I had wanted convenience, I’d have chosen anyone but you. This,” he gestured between you two, “is the furtherest thing from fucking easy.” 

You open your mouth, but you can’t find the words to express anything you’re feeling. The pain, the hurt, the resolve you are trying desperately to keep up. Wonwoo watches you with such sharp eyes it sends you into another spiral of being flustered. 

“I’m giving you my heart, y/n,” he murmurs. One look into his eyes tells you everything you need to know. “It’s terrifying – more than any battlefield I’ve seen,” he admits, “but for you? For you, I’d face any danger, any fear over and over again, even if it means standing in front of the love of my life, knowing you don’t believe me. Even if it means standing in front of the one person I would give up my life for, knowing she doesn’t want me like I want her.” 

Your eyes blow wide and a stuttered gasp of a breath feels punched out of your stomach. For a moment, it seems deathly quiet – even the winds seem to soften around you two. And then memories of the nights of your sobs, of your broken heart, scattered into the smallest of shards on the floor, taunt you like a haunted nightmare, circling over and over again.

“Maybe you should have given it to someone who wouldn’t have questioned it,” you whisper, placing a hand over his. “Do you think your proclaimed love is enough, Wonwoo, to erase my pain? My memories? That you can come here and confess and it’ll fix just about everything?” 

You know. You’re being overly critical. You’re being annoying, you’re being frustrating. You know he means every word he utters because he’s Jeon Wonwoo. If he didn’t mean it, he would have not even said it. But even you can’t help the words that flow out of you, fueled with bitterness and pettiness. 

“No,” he says softly, interlocking your hands together. You almost pull away. “I don’t even expect forgiveness, Y/n. Hell, I don’t even deserve it. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t fucking love you. Like I don’t want you by my side for every passing hour. That I don’t want-” his voice breaks and you flinch in surprise when a single tear rolls down his cheek. “That I don’t love you ‘till my last breath.” 

His words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. 

You shake your head, pulling away from his reach, frantically brushing through your hair. “This is unfair, Wonwoo. You can’t just- just come back and say that you love me.” You sound desperate even to your own ears. You will for Wonwoo to stop there. Please. 

“It’s all I have, y/n,” he admits, voice cracking at your name. The way he utters your name, it carries such unrestrained emotion that it makes you shudder. “It’s all I’ve ever had.” 

Your knees give out, and you sink into your skirts, arms caging your body close to your legs. You rock yourself back and forth gently, eyes trained on the white snow beneath your feet. “What am I supposed to do with that?” You whisper, more to yourself than to him, but it catches Wonwoo’s ears. 

He kneels in the cold snow, brushing hair out of your face. “I’m willing to wait, y/n, you have to know. There is no one else. There never was and there never will be. And when you are ready to believe that – believe me – I’ll be here. Always. I’ll wait. Even if it takes fifty years. I’ll wait.” He tucks the strands of curled hair behind your ear, fingers lingering on your temple. Another hand rubs your shoulder. “And I’m sorry, y/n,” he continues. “I’m so sorry for leaving you by yourself for all those years. I really am.”

You can’t bear to look up because you can already feel two warm teardrops on the back of your hand that Wonwoo holds close to his face. Because you know that if you look up and see his desperate, dejected eyes, it’ll haunt you forever. Because if you look up and then match his expression to his vulnerable words, laced with such truth, you’ll break. 

“I don’t know if I can, Wonwoo,” you finally murmur. 

“That’s okay. I’ll wait,” he responds. His words are full of such conviction they almost reassure you. 

“Don’t say that.” 

“Y/n,” he laughs, tears falling down his face. “I’m not giving up on us.” 

“You should!” you sob, burying your face into your palms. “Wonwoo, just give up on us! Please!” You don’t mean it. Not even one bit. But you say it because you can’t live through him leaving again. Because if, in the chance that he does, leave again, you don’t think you can bear it. You know your heart won’t be able to bear the brunt force of it. 

Wonwoo shakes his head. You know he knows. Or at least can tell. “I can’t, y/n. Not when you mean so much to me. Not when it doesn’t feel like living when you’re not close to me – when you’re not next to me,” he replies. His voice is much calmer than yours and holds to it a sense of firmness in his decision, like nothing could convince him out of it. He pulls you up by your arms, holding you at arms-length, almost inspecting your face for something. Some emotion he may be losing in the heat of everything. 

“Wonwoo, please. Let me just forget,” you murmur, nails biting into your palms. 

Wonwoo shakes his head again, tilting your face up. He swallows. Your red eyes, swollen from tears, close briefly at his warm hand. “You know I can’t, y/n. You mean everything to me.” 

“You’re being selfish.” 

“Maybe. But you should be too.” 

“Wonwoo…” 

“Y/n, I’m not demanding an answer right now. I know the pain I’ve caused you. I know the-” Wonwoo stops suddenly when he sees you biting your lips, teeth clenching down hard on the flesh until you can feel a thin sheen of iron against your tongue. His brows furrow and his thumb gently pries your lip from your teeth, letting out a small sigh. “You don’t ever have to say anything. I just needed you to know. I need you to know how much I love you.” 

Wonwoo ends with a certain sort of flourish you remember from when he would conclude a debate in the National Academy, or when he would argue with his father. It was with a conviction that he knew the other person could not argue against. And you couldn’t. 

“Don’t do this to me,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes as if to stop the flow of tears. Your heart clenched and you could feel the cold start to seep in. 

Wonwoo’s eyes softened at your tears. You stare down at your feet as his hands work to unbuckle the fur cloak from his shoulders. In the next second, your body is engulfed in a familiar sort of warmth and the scent of a more familiar cologne. He adjusts the cloak around your shivering frame. Warm fingers brush your tears off your skin and your hair from your eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, angel.” 

Your breath hitches at the nickname. The nickname that took you three years to get over – to forget and partially forgive. The nickname that felt so wrong coming out of anyone else’s mouth. You look up, warm tears pooling in your eyes again. “Don’t call me that,” you whisper and you know he can hear the pure pain in your voice. “Don’t-” you hit his chest with your fist, though lightly, “fucking call me that,” you choke out. Your forehead rests on his chest, tears falling freely down your cheeks, chin, and onto the snow. You can feel the gentle pressure of Wonwoo’s chin on your head and the way his hesitant arms encircle your waist, pulling you closer to his embrace – pulling you closer to his comforting warmth. 

Wonwoo presses his lips together, inhaling a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, y/n, I really am. You don’t have to answer,” he confesses, more desperate this time. “I’ll wait. I’ll wait and wait until you’re ready for me, whenever that is. And if you accept only for one day, that’s okay too.” 

Wonwoo’s fingers fix the cloak around your shoulders and they falter when they brush gently against your empty neck. There is a pang of guilt when you realize it’s because of how you shove the necklace he had gifted you back into his hands on that night. But he doesn’t linger, opting to pull away.

“It’s all okay, y/n. It’s okay. And I’m sorry,” Wonwoo murmured one last time, before he pressed a fleeting kiss – gentle, warm, so him – against your forehead. Before he turns away and steps through the snow-covered walkway, back towards the warmth of the palace, leaving you with your own bubbling thoughts. 

There is a tightening sensation in your heart that travels along the arteries and veins and seeps into your lungs, then the rest of your chest, until you find yourself slumped on a bench, tears soaking your handkerchief and sobs echoing through the otherwise quiet garden. 

Approximately two days later, Joshua comes to visit you in your Capital estate, hands laden with gifts sent up from his wife who had gone down early to their country duchy. 

Your parlor is warm, lit by the steady glow and crackle of the fire that dances within the ornate hearth. Darkened drapes are tied back, letting the minimal winter sun seep into the room. A soft atmosphere of silence wraps itself around the room, broken only by the soft clinks of your cups as you and Joshua both sip on the tea laid out in the tea table in front of you. 

Joshua sits opposite you in a high-backed chair. His usual easy demeanor around you belies the sharpness of his attention. You can see it just from how his brows scrunch and his eyes dart from your face to your wringing hands in your lap. His coat is draped over the arm of his chair, leaving him only in a simple waistcoat. He cradles his own teacup with the same kind of quiet thoughtfulness that seems to define his entire being in times like this. 

The tension only grows as you slowly get more anxious at your senior’s silence and Joshua grows more wary of your wandering eyes – how your gaze flickers to the flames and then to the ceiling and then back to your hands, never truly focusing on anything. 

“Do you have anything to tell me?” Joshua asks, voice gentle but firm, how it’s always been with you. Sometimes, you wonder if he actually saw himself as more of your father than your older brother. 

You hesitate to respond. Should you tell him? No, you want to argue. But technically, if Joshua was already asking you if you had anything to tell him, that meant that he already knew something happened, or he already knew what happened and wanted to hear it from you. Either way, it leaves you with no choice but to answer him. 

“Why?” you choose to respond, setting your teacup down. 

Joshua shrugs, stirring his tea. “Just a hunch,” he hums. 

You’re quiet. And Joshua indulges in your voluntary silence. But only for a minute, as it has always been. Joshua Hong is only patient when he wants to be. 

“Y/n, what happened between you and Wonwoo?” he finally asks, ripping the coarsely-placed bandage off of your wound. He leans forward, elbows on his knees. 

You sigh, slumping down in your chair. Your hand pulls at your hair. “What didn’t happen,” you mutter. 

Joshua sighs, tapping your foot. “Not an answer. Come on, y/n. I need you to tell me so that I can help you or something.” 

You falter at his words. It was curious, really, how Joshua knew exactly the perfect time to come and visit you. How he knew exactly when you needed help. 

You finally give in. 

“He said he loves me,” you whisper. You cringe at your own words. They feel foreign leaving your own mouth, and maybe it’s because you haven’t even given yourself the time to wrap your own head around it. But in any sense, you say it. 

“So he finally confessed,” Joshua muses, as if he already knew your little tidbit. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, really. He had a knack of finding things out before you could properly process what was happening. But it does annoy you, just a little bit. It’s the same thing, you guess, as Seungcheol asking you to weekly afternoon teas to see if everything in your life is okay. 

“If you put it that way,” you mutter, crossing your arms, eyes fluttering over to the window. 

There is a thick sheet of silence that lands heavy between you two as Joshua chooses not to respond. Instead, he sets his cup down on the small table between you with deliberate care. He studies you for a long moment and for a second, you think you have biscuit crumbs on your chin or something. 

“I feel like I can guess what you said to him,” Joshua finally says, leaning back on his chair. 

You nod hesitantly. “I just-” you sigh, sinking further into the chair, “-I don’t want to be the convenient choice so that he can fulfil his obligations. What if he doesn’t choose me if he had the option?” you ask quietly. An edge of bitterness and underlying hurt seeps into your tone even though you try to mask it. And you know Joshua picks up on it too. 

“If that’s what you believe,” Joshua says, voice low and deliberate it almost scares you, “then you don’t know him as well as you think.” 

You blink at his words. The certainty in his words – almost like he knows because he’s talked it over with the person in question – throws you off. It’s rather unlike Joshua to frequently give relationship or love advice, seeing as how his own marriage came to fruition. 

You’re about to retort when Joshua continues. 

“Wonwoo’s never taken the easy path,” he says, “Not once. Not in the National Academy, not in society, not in the knight corps, and definitely not when it comes to you. Actually, the man probably takes the hardest route whenever it comes to you.” His words hang in the air, laden with something akin to a heavy truth that makes your chest tighten. No tears though, which is good, considering the considerable amount of tears you’ve accumulated over the past couple of days. 

The glow of the firelight lends a warmth to Joshua’s face that contrasts with the intensity of his gaze. You want to desperately argue, to push back against the certainty of his words, but the sheer conviction in them, as well as Joshua’s rare sure relationship advice, has you basically grasping for words. 

“He’s struggling too, Y/n.” His words are quiet but firm enough to pierce the silence. 

You laugh, tears stuck in your throat. “Oh, I bet,” you mumble. 

“The weight of duty, of everything, it’s heavier on him that anyone else realizes,” Joshua hums, pausing for a bit when he sees your frown, “But you can-” 

Suddenly, the doors to your parlor swung open, followed by hurried half-yells of your estate staff asking the prince to “Please wait outside, your highness!” 

Both your and Joshua’s heads whip towards the sound, the tense atmosphere now conveniently broken. When you turn towards the oak doors of your parlor, Mingyu stands in the doorway, his wide frame taking up the entire doorway. He looks rushed, almost distressed – hair sticking out of his fur hat, cloak lopsided on his shoulders. 

Joshua opens his mouth to speak but Mingyu beats him to it. 

“Oh thank god you’re here,” he breathes, ripping his hat off of his head as he bends forward, hands on his knees as he tries to collect himself. 

You turn your wide eyes towards Joshua as if he can give you an answer. Joshua only shrugs, confusion marring the space between his eyes. 

“Your highness, what is this about?” Joshua asks, standing up as Mingyu makes his way over to the long couch, collapsing on top of it. 

Mingyu heaves in another breath. “He left,” he states. 

“What?” your voice is sharp with annoyance. Really, the men in this kingdom need to learn how to talk in full sentences. How is anyone supposed to understand who “he” is when the speaker doesn’t clarify it with any proper noun? “Speak properly, Mingyu.” 

Mingyu looks up from his position on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes. “Wonwoo, Y/n,” he sighs, turning over to face the back of the couch. “He was commissioned to the north. Again. He left at dawn yesterday, apparently.” 

Mingyu’s words are like a bath of cold water that is thrown on you. They crash over you like an unwanted gasp of air. It threatens to break you. You can’t breathe and you don’t know why. Your body suddenly feels like it isn’t yours. You feel like your lungs are caving in themselves and you can feel your heart punching at your ribs, threatening to break the bones. You clutch at your chair, gasping in inhales of oxygen like you are a fish out of water. Like you were some sort of broken machine that needed fuel. Like you had just heard a world-ending news. 

He was gone. 

“Left?” you croak out and a gasp of air follows, which clearly worries both Joshua and Mingyu because both men either stand up or sit up, heads whipping towards your weak voice. You don’t even realize that you’re crying until Mingyu’s eyes blow wide and he’s hurrying over, dabbing your tears off with his handkerchief. You want to push him away – let yourself mingle in with another set of tears – but the only thing that you can think is that his cologne is too strong compared to Wonwoo’s. The only thing that you can think of, while your eyes drift towards the open-curtained windows and watch the thick snow fall down from the dark skies, is that Wonwoo left. Again. Wonwoo left you again. And he’ll have to ride through the thick snow of the Capital and then ride again through the thicker snow of the countryside, and then fight in the thickest snow of the north. That he’ll face another battlefield – a battlefield you knew, from Soonyoung’s letters – that he hated with all his being. That he’ll most likely get injured while fighting for the king, for the kingdom, for you, apparently. That he might-

“Oh my god,” you breathe, shooting up and out of your seat with a speed that scares both Mingyu and Joshua, who are staring at you like you’re going through a life-changing crisis. “Oh my god!” you choke out, steadying yourself with your chair. The three words just fall from your lips like a mantra as you pace back and forth through your parlor, pulling at the ends of your hair and biting your lips. And through everything – Mingyu glancing over at Joshua and Joshua trying to get Nai to bring you some chamomile tea – the only thought in your head is the singular worry that gnaws and teeths at your entire soul: what if he dies? 

: ̗̀➛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ @syluslittlecrows @gaslysainz @meowmeowminnie @luvjichang @peachytokki @nicoleparadas @haneulparadx @venuszaa @lilylikesthat @ppaia @ameliamirabela @tearsdntfall617

[lehguru]

BE MINE + ONE PIECE MEN

request: them asking the reader to be their partner + luffy, zoro, sanji & law

info: gn!reader, i forgor how i characterize them so bear with me, also this is me trying to crawl back to one piece so im sorry if its rlly bad; not proofread!!! (i should start asking ppl to beta read those istg)

monkey d.luffy didn't really straight up asked you to be his partner. luffy being luffy, he walked up to you one day and said that you were his partner. you, having feelings for the captain for a really long time now, chuckled nervously, asking "what do you mean?". as he explained that nami told him that if he liked you, then he should ask you out, you could hear the red head sighing from somewhere—you knew at least half of the crew was watching you two right now. you laughed softly at the proud smile he wore and nodded, agreeing to be his.

roronoa zoro was almost the same as luffy, but at least he had the decency to actually ask you about it. during a beautiful day, you were on one side of the little garden that was built in the thousand sunny's deck, helping robin to water the plants. out of nowhere, a shadow was cast upon your crouching form; looking up, you noticed the green haired swordsman and smiled at him, getting up. "yes, zor—"

cutting you off, he asked in the same stoic tone he almost always had: "do you want to be my partner?". your eyes went wide and you let out a small exclamation of surprise. taking that as a denial, he turned back and started to walk away, but you managed to yell out his name. "yes! i will be your partner." the man huffed and nodded, but you could see a slight blush dusting his cheekbones.

when the subject is romance and love, you always expect sanji to be a master at it. out of everyone, he should be the one knowing how to ask someone to be his significant other, but he has never felt this... strongly about someone like he feels about you. when he approaches you to ask that, he's holding a little box with your favorite dessert, his long slender fingers shaking a little as words seemed to catch on his throat for the first time in front of someone he loves. he took a deep breath, a bead of sweat dripping down the back of his neck, you touching his arm and asking 'is everything okay, sanji?' with your sweet voice sent him over the edge. "do you want to date me?", his words were clear for him, but for you, he simply spat all of them out at the same time. you told him to breathe and say it again, and he did, his eyes looking at the floor with the shame of the rejection that would surely come his way. your head almost bumped on his as you jumped on his arms, screaming a yes and giggling loudly. he hugged you and spun you around, giggles of his own leaving his pink lips.

trafalgar d.water law didn't want to acknowledge his feelings for you. you were one of his closest friends, one of the few people he trusted the most—you knew things about him that he never told another soul; so he was afraid of losing you. terrified even. he had lost enough people that he loved during his life and he couldn't bear to lose another one. but... his other friends knew a little too much about his "silly" feelings.

"c'mon man, go ask them out." law saw himself being cornered by penguin, sachi and bepo one day, all of them with playful expressions. "the worst you can get is a punch."

he tried to ignore them, ignore how his cheeks seemed to be heating up, but they were being so obnoxious and annoying, he couldn't handle them anymore. with a burst of rage, he yelled at them, "can you shut up? i don't like them and they don't like me, either!"

"like who?" your voice made his heart leave his body and he felt like stabbing the three men—and bear—that were running away now. "no one." law replied, scoffing to himself for the slip up. "torao! tell me! come on!" now you were the one bugging him and he rubbed his face with his hand. you poked his cheek, giving him a little pout. "law, please!"

"it's you." he snapped, making you freeze. "it's you, dumbass." surprising the man, you started to giggle, making him go from annoyed to even more embarassed. "what?" you kissed his lips softly and started to walk away, saying that you accepted to be his partner.

2024 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

[bitchslapblastoids]

Prompted by your post about dnp inviting audience interaction: it /is/ really brave, and so interesting! I haven't been watching them for long at all and one of the biggest things that just drew me in and deeply fascinated me about them is how so much of their work (not just on stage) is in some way a conversation/interaction with their audience and the more you watch the more you notice it. No wonder its easy to be parasocial about them and about the Phandom itself!

To me, at least, they seem to be the sort of performers/creators that need a relatively high level of audience interaction in order to be inspired or for their work to feel meaningful. Like, im absolutely sure they could also create things without this close relationship with their audience but it seems to be what their naturally drawn towards? Obviously the problem has been in maintaining boundaries within that but it seems like that's going better now than at some points in the past, which makes me really happy for everyone!

Sorry about the long yap, this is so interesting to me and I just needed to express it a little

(original post referenced) yes!!! i love this!!! so beautifully worded! no need to apologize at all - i am in such hearty agreement and actually think about this so often. i think the engagement with their audience is their superpower, and it runs so deep. what was one of dan's favorite things about phil before he met him? phil's interactive adventure videos, in which he was creating an interactive experience for his viewers.

when they film pinof1 together, what are they doing? they're answering an audience-submitted q&a. the audience interaction is literally baked into their foundation! <3

2010, dan's uni dorm. what's displayed behind him on his wall? art and letters sent to him by viewers. he films danmail vids where he opens and reacts to said art and letters and personally thanks the senders.

for years and years and years, what's at the end of every phil video? fanart! draw phil naked! (in retrospect literally so weird lol but shhh)

the ongoing avalanche of vyous and younows and tumblr reblogs/follows and responding to yt comments and retweets and and and. so much interaction. the videos directly engaging with twitter and tumblr creations. they see us, they know us, they get us.

their first book? included a double-page spread with dozens of pieces of phanart.

every single one of their tours has multiple essential audience interaction components, and even more brilliantly, with multiple different access points that are perfectly calibrated to their audience. too shy to speak up? send in a submission ahead of time. want to be a part of the masses? shout something out during the audience participation segments! and there's always the likelihood that they'll include fanart in the show itself, casually mention an actual actively popular fic, throw in an ancient phwedding manip, or just build whole segments of the show around our tropes and the world that we created with them. all of that keeps things exciting and engaging on stage, bc you never know exactly what's going to come next. but it also keeps their audience feeling seen, valued, and like co-creators in a way.

When you look at the other britcrew and big yters from the 2010s, they simply weren't generating that ongoing, authentic conversation with their audiences. their approach followed the simple format of: i post, you watch. and then it became: i post, you watch, then i try and sell you something while i call you my 'community' because you are all watching me and sometimes you talk to one another in the comments. but it's not like zalfie or joe and casper etc. were chiming in on the convos too, or at least not in any meaningful way. it wasn't a community in the same way.

dan and phil truly built community. i think communities require mutual exchange, communication, a sense of value and worth, commonly agreed upon truths, shared experiences, touchstones of connection, and leaders who have integrity. i know this is all starting to sound a little lofty, but i really do think dan and phil are good humans who have worked hard to wield their power and influence responsibly and compassionately. they set the tone for us, constructed this world, paid attention to what landed for us, how we responded to things, everything that we were up to in response to what they were up to. they listened. they made us feel seen and celebrated and appreciated, and in turn we continued to celebrate them. they created weird inside jokes, we adopted them, then we all shared the weird inside jokes. they existed, we created our own language and lore and encyclopedia in response, and now there's a whole stage show about it.

that's how you get people sticking around for 15 years. that's how you get people to actually want to spend money on you. and yeah, some more boundaries at times couldn't have hurt. they fostered a sense of proximity and entitlement that obviously put them in harm's way. but i'd say ultimately what they've manage to do has been a net good for them and a tremendous success.

you raised such a good point that it seems to be what they are naturally drawn towards. i think it's because they, too, were fangirls. phil was writing buffy fic. dan was running a lost wiki. they both understood the power of online fan community before they were the titans of their own. they get it, they get us <3

[thelov3lybookworm]

Am I Forgiven?

Summary: one chance is all he gets

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 2650

Warnings: tinyy bit of angst, keir, rhysie poo being nosy. language ig? let me know if theres more i need to add here hehe 🫶🏻

A/n: based on this request by @nightless <3333 hope you like this pookie and please forgive me for taking over a year almost to post this 😭😭😭

(i feel like i kinda went off track but i tried to stick to the plot and my mind took the steering and was like. 'hmm this new route looks cool' im sorry lmaoo)

anyways, ENJOY🥹

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Y/n felt her eyebrows rise, glancing at the back of Keir’s head. She had thought the high lord would try to sweeten his offer, maybe start slow. But he apparently was in a no bullshit mood, and Y/n was not complaining. The quicker the ordeal was over, the quicker she could go back to her back and forth with the General.

Y/n was only here to help protect Keir, maybe even intimidate the high lord, though she knew that would only really happen in Keir’s dreams. That meant Y/n didn’t need to pay attention to whatever big words the two males threw at each other, and so she let her eyes wander.

Morrigan, Keir’s daughter, definitely got her looks from her father, but no one would point that out loud, not wanting to get into anyone's bad graces.

The shadowsinger was one of the most beautiful people Y/n had seen. Pity that he was so cold and closed off from everyone.

If he had been even a little less cold, Y/n would have had him in her bed long ago.

It was a good thing she didn’t really like pretty males.

She liked her males built, rough, and roguish.

Which, fortunately for her, her mate was exactly that.

Unfortunately for her, he was the Lord of Bloodshed, the General of the night court’s armies.

Cassian.

The thought brought a sly smirk on her face as she met the hazel eyes of the illyrian, who already looked ready to pounce over the table to get to her.

Y/n turned her attention back to the high lord before he could see the same urges in her eyes. She had mostly tuned everyone out, so when she heard the words muttered by Rhysand, shock jolted her entire body.

"So your darkbringers will fight when need be, and in exchange, you get to visit velaris. We’re settled then."

Y/n glanced at Keir, wide eyed, who simply offered a nod to the high lord before stalking out. Y/n had no choice but to follow, but she did shoot a last look at Cassian, who looked like he’d seen a ghost.

She knew how hard it must’ve been to receive such news, considering he called the place home and considering how much the elite members of the high lords inner circle hated hewn city and its people, Y/n would not blame him if he lost his mind in the cavernous meeting chamber.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Keir had led Y/n and Bastian to a smaller room, ordering the two to get the darkbringer army ready and prepared to leave at a moment’s notice, to increase their training time and try and test every single one of the soldiers to make sure they were giving their best. And after half an hour of unceasing droning about the upcoming war, he told them to leave, mumbling something about freedom and velaris under his breath as the two generals escaped the empty yet full room, hurrying to get away before Keir decided he needed to ramble more.

The moment they were far enough away, Bastian let loose a breath, stepping off to the side and leaning against the wall. Y/n followed, standing toe to toe with him as she focused her eyes on the rock formations next to his head.

"How soon do you think the war will be upon us?"

Y/n took a deep breath, meeting the onyx eyes that always seemed to know her a little too well. "I don’t know. But it will be soon, I’m sure."

He was quiet for a moment. "When are you going to tell him, Y/n?"

Y/n turned away from him, letting her eyes survey the nearby brothels and shops, full of drinking and revelling patrons.

"Y/n?"

She sighed. "I don’t know, Bas. I feel like he knows already, but then he leaves every time. Every visit, I wonder if he will stop running in circles and finally talk to me about it, but then all he does is flirt all night and then vanish when I start to feel like we might be getting somewhere. I don’t know what to think anymore."

Bas hummed, rubbing his brow. "Maybe just talk to him? Tell him to get his shit together. After all, you do love ordering the soldiers around. Maybe he needs to get a taste of that to stop being a child."

Y/n rolled her eyes then, shaking her head. "Good night, Bas."

He laughed, then clasped her shoulder as she began walking away, halting her in her tracks. "Jokes aside, I mean it, Y/n. you should talk to him."

Y/n blinked at him, then nodded uncertainly. And with a last squeeze, Bas walked away, humming his favourite off key tune.

Maybe he was right. She needed to talk to Cassian.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Cassian’s pov.

Cassian was not someone who squirmed. Sure, when he liked someone and wanted to impress them, he’d be jumping off the walls. But he had never felt uncomfortable under his brother’s gazes, let alone Rhysand's gaze.

Azriel was supposed to be the intimidating one, the one who looked at people and saw right through them. But the way Rhysand stared at Cassian, his brows furrowed and lips pursed, Cassian wondered if he was trying to stare into Cassian’s soul.

Or maybe trying to get through his mental walls to find out the answer to the question he very clearly had.

When Cassian was tired of being stared at like a medicinal herb specimen while he scanned the crowd in Hewn City, he finally snapped. "What?"

"What’s the deal between you and the General of the Darkbringers?"

Instantly, Cassian felt his blood cooling.

"Is there supposed to be a deal?"

Rhysand scoffed. "Not really, but the way you two act around each other suggests otherwise."

Cassian narrowed his eyes, gaze fixed to a far corner in the throne room where a couple had started kissing. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

The high lord snorted. "Yeah sure, I believe you."

Cassian remained quiet, and before long, Rhysand was opening his mouth again. As expected.

"You know, I was wondering if she has something going on with her right hand man. What was his name? Blaise? B-"

"Bastian." Cassian half snarled, his gaze swinging to the knowing eyes of his brother, and he realised that this was his plot all along. He’d been poking Cassian about mindless matters the whole evening, and to add to the annoyance of the general, Rhysand had hit where it hurt the most.

Cassian had seen the two, Y/n and Bastian, interact. And while they probably merely shared camaraderie, it irked Cassian to no end that another male got to talk to his mate so freely and get no repercussions for it, while Cassian had to skirt around everything he wanted to say to that magnificent female, having to settle to flirting when he wanted to tear open his chest and present her with the organ that kept him alive.

"So, I’ll ask again. What’s the deal between you two?"

Cassian released a frustrated sigh, then turned his gaze to the wide double doors, knowing his eyes showed his longing more than he wanted them to.

"She…"

But then she walked in, and his breath caught at the way her eyes instantly met his, as if she had come here solely for the purpose of finding him. And as he watched her stalk to him, her posture impeccable and confidence unwavering, not even sparing a glance to the people as they stepped out of her way the moment they spied her march up to the thrones the rulers occupied without care, he knew he was right.

She stopped only once her boots hit the first step leading up the dais where the high lord and lady sat, brows high. She bowed her head, eyes looking up at them.

"My lord, my lady. Would you mind if I steal away your general for a few moments?"

If possible, Rhysand’s brows rose even higher, glancing once at Cassian before shaking his head. "We wouldn’t mind at all."

Y/n shot Cassian a look, which promptly made him move to follow, but he also could not help but be worried.

She looks like she’s gonna cut off my balls.

The further away he moved from his brother and his high lady, the deeper in the crowd, it got harder to focus on worrying about his assets over the sound of the loud, seductive lilt of the orchestra that blared from the corner.

Once again, he felt Rhysand tap on his mental shields.

��What?’

‘Is she your mate?’

Cassian stilled for a moment, then kept moving before he lost sight of Y/n’s back.

‘Yes.’

Rhys was silent for a moment, prompting Cassian to wonder whether he had left his mind when he spoke again.

‘Look, I will understand if you don’t want to accept the bond, but do not fuck this up. Reject her after the war is over. If she gets upset, everything will be ruined-’

‘Shut the fuck up. What makes you think I don’t want her?’

Another pause.

‘I thought if you hadn’t yet accepted the bond, you didn’t want to-’

Cassian shoved Rhysand out before he could rile him up even more, pulling his wings closer to himself as he finally escaped the throng of revellers and stepped out of the throne room.

He did not have it in himself to tell his brother that he was the reason Cassian had suppressed his urge to claim his mate right the moment the bond snapped.

He had been worried that Rhysand, despite how much he loved his family, was also the high lord, and he would do anything to keep the court safe, no matter how much he despised it. And if Y/n had accepted the bond already, there was a high chance Rhys would use her to win this war, as he already was planning to.

Cassian did not want to go against his brother, but neither did he want to let his mate be used.

Fingers snapped in Cassian’s face, making him jerk back, wide eyes scanning his surroundings, snagging on the jutting rock’s overhead, the cavernous ceiling, the scarce lighting, before finally focusing on the reason for his abrupt departure from the throne room.

She stared back at him, her arms folded across her chest.

"Are you so distracted because you don’t want to talk to me?"

He blinked, swallowing.

How would he ever tell her that she was as far from the truth as she could get.

Instead, he offered her a smirk. "No sweetheart, I was wondering which wall I would like to take you against first."

Y/n was no shadowsinger, but she was a darkbringer. That brought along night powers, faint wisps of dark sky swirling around her wings frantically that were generally utilised for hiding better as she raised an eyebrow at him, and despite her calm exterior, Cassian knew she was getting agitated by his continuous refusal to acknowledge the mating bond.

He suspected that would no longer be the case very soon if the anger also glimmering in her eyes was any indication.

Also the tiny, foreign emotions taking root in his chest that came from the other side of the bond, because no matter how hard the two tried to block the pathway connecting their souls, it was as if the mother refused to let it be shut completely.

"Cassian, I am tired."

He swallowed again. "Well, that’s nice. Maybe I can give you a massage afterwards, oils and all. Maybe a bath together-"

"Do you feel it too?"

His mouth snapped shut, and he wondered if not speaking would help him at all.

And then he caught a whiff of his scent from her skin, and that set somethin feral that had till now been bound in his chest loose.

"Why the fuck do you smell like Bastian?" He spat out the name, as if even having to move his facial muscles to speak the offending male’s name disgusted him to the core.

Which it did.

Y/n blinked, her brows raising. "Are you serious right now? I just asked you a question and you respond like a typical animalistic illyrian." She shook his head, and the smile that lifted the edges of her lips sent cold fingers skittering down Cassian’s spine, knowing he had messed up. "But you did answer me, didn’t you? Even if indirectly. Pathetic."

Y/n turned away from him, her wings splaying out in a furious stretch before wrapping back tightly against her back.

"Wait, Y/n."

She paused, glancing back at him, incredulous tilt to her lips as she surveyed him. "I have been waiting for quite a long time now, Cassian."

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair as he released a frustrated exhale. "I know that Y/n, but I was doing it to keep you safe."

She barked out a harsh laugh. "Keep me safe?"

He nodded. "I didn’t want you to get caught in between Keir and Rhysand. And you know you would have if they’d realised what we shared sooner."

She was no longer grinning at him, the mocking expression having long melted off of her beautiful features. "And you could not have handled it better?" She took a step towards him, and despite her menacing shadows swirling around her, Cassian relaxed, happy she would stay for a few precious moments longer, even if it was just to yell at him.

"Cassian, I know you can feel my emotions too. You know how badly I wanted to talk to you and figure this out. You really could not have come to me and told me that we’d have to keep the bond under wraps instead of flirting with me and then leaving me waiting for you?"

Cassian dipped his head, shame burning through him. He had nothing to say, knowing she was right and nothing he uttered could possibly justify his actions.

If he really wanted to keep her safe, he would have left her alone. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. This was his mate. And he would have damned himself and everyone around him if he had to ignore his mate.

"Y/n, I- I’m sorry. I know I have wronged you, making you feel like I do not care, but please, give me one chance?"

Cassian watched as her eyes softened the tiniest bit, her shoulders slumping.

"Just tell me why you kept me hanging."

He nodded, rubbing his eyes. "I was scared Rhys would try to use you, and I did not want you to think that I only… accepted the bond to get closer to you."

She stared at him, then dipped her head. "I guess that makes sense."

He watched her, uncertain. "I… does it?"

She shook her head, a smile slipping onto her lips. "I am still mad at you, so don’t go getting too happy. I am not letting you off easy, but…"

"But?" He pressed.

"I guess it’s for the best that we don't do anything now because I need to focus on the darkbringers and make sure they are trained. I’m sure you also have duties, whatever it is you do."

Cassian blinked. He could not believe she was being so gracious. He had thought she would be angrier.

"So… does that mean there is a chance I will be forgiven?"

She snorted, turning away. "One chance, a lot of grovelling. And maybe I will consider it."

She walked away, hips swaying lightly, but then paused, head turning to look at him.

"For the record, I’m sure these walls would be pretty uncomfortable against my back."

And then she was gone.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

permanent taglist: @berryzxx @serenescureforboredom @cassie6392 @harrystylesfan2686

@sarawritestories @milswrites @throneofsmut

@daycourtofficial @sweetorangeblossom @secret-third-thing

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

@cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1

@hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21

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Cassian Taglist: @moonlwghts @samslittlespoon @nickishadow139

@illyriassweetheart

[brights-place]

[Spiderman] Miles 42 x Reader

1K 5 Part Special: 1 (You are here) , 2 , 3 ,4,5 Warnings: Mafia AU, Cursing, fluff, blood

A/N: 5 POSTS OF FIVE DIFFERENT FANDOMS TO FEED I WILL NOT BE LIMITED BECAUSE IMMA MAKE YALL BE FED anyways thank you all so much for 1K im so happy !! TY SO MUCH

Summary: A mafia au ATSV type or idk something similar to mafia au but the reader being Miles' personal bodyguard after they took all their anger out on their parents for being abusive despite being young and later got found by someone Miles' family who took them in and trained them then as the reader spent more time with Miles 42 they fall in love and super possessive since they would give their life protecting Miles and get jealous very easily if someone flirts with their partner, that they would glare at the person threaten to kill them if they didn't back off sorry if it's short I've been having writers block more then usual

The sound of rough heaving echoed as a silhouette was gripping its side The small boy, with deep/light e/c eyes, tilts his head as he gazes over the old floors. Each slab of wood was old and beginning to rot, defunct seeds fostered by mold. That's why the gentleman in front of the small boy seemed far too out of place he was clean and tidy unlike the boys state.

Like water and oil, he simply did not fit in with his surroundings yet a hand was held out infront of him as the h/cnette looked up to see a guy staring down at him as your hand stared at the hand afraid as you looked back to the furrowed brows and eyes of a man who spoke harshly "You wanna be left here to die?" you stared shakily taking his hands as he spoke "so you are... (Full Name) right?" you looked down "(Nickname) sir..." he stared at you and spoke "Aaron... Morales" You stared at him. You had heard the about the awful rumors and secrets of this city. How drunk driving accidents are the norm, small businesses getting robbed at gunpoint was just a regular day especially the arson and deaths with the mafia around yet you wouldn't expect one of the biggest underground crime groups to be holding a hand out to you yet you couldn't help but take it ignoring the bleeding hand under the debris twitching and the famillar eyes through a gap in the crumbled areas that surrounded them the same e/c eyes that they had of their own that had always stared at you with hatred. You couldn't help but turn back to the man who started to guide you away with a blank face. A/N: HEADCANNON TIME BABY OML I'm so tired Im trying my best to upload more since holidays started so Im planning on writing books more on my wattpad, writing also on tumblr for ramble babbles and drawing more so uhh YEAH!

- You were trained by Aaron or known as 'Uncle aaron' by a boy that was around your agel. Aaron would have taught you things that you shouldn't know for someone your age, being tasked to help him with his dirty work before - You had devoted your life to Uncle Aaron after saving you and even if you were tasked to start protecting miles which was easy blending in with him at his highschool even though he'd tell you to fuck off - He claims he's babysitting you because now you're in his care more like He's in your care where he pretends to be all tough shit when your the one cutting someones tongue out for spouting lies and talking to the pigs - Miles always fights his own battles so you doing this pissed him off yet he slowly started to get used to it - You both would practice fighting together hell you cleaned up his prowler mask and costume for when he and uncle aaron went off on missions - The amount of blood that was already on his hands disgusted you but you couldn't talk when you'd come back after getting information out of a guy with bloodied knuckles or a small trash bag being dragged through the room dripping a crimson drop onto the floor - You both falling for each other was a weakness something that shouldn't have happened but it did

- You sometimes think it's foolish for someone like miles to love you but then you remember this man has murdered and stole for good reasons even if he's apart of the mafia. He doesn't take shit from anyone. People follow him like obedient dogs out of fear and admiration because they know he's the right hand to Uncle aaron. - Orders or Not people would take a bullet without a second of hesitation and you were one of them being well Miles is personal body guard protecting him and threatening lives of those who speak ill of him and aaron. - You have certain things that you enjoy outside of battle doing things to relax you as Miles would be in the same room as you doing his own thing as you both were filled with the familiar relaxation. - Everytime your sent out on a mission you'd stare down at your gun loading it just wanting to get back to miles since he needs his right hand - One moment though when on a mission hiding behind a crate when another underground group is leader was shooting with his man you were gripping onto your gun only having one thought before the slaughter this man would not make you lose your life to let miles suffer once more.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2024 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[elliewrites77]

An Intimate Celebration

Your birthday had always been a quiet celebration. When you were young, your family didn't throw a fuss about having a big party or anything like that, instead having simple, intimate dinners with a few gifts. That same intimacy stayed with you till even now. Although you didn't do dinners with your immediate family anymore, you still took the day to celebrate without a big fuss. Since moving to Japan, you would simply take the day to yourself, to pamper and treat your self a little. It was nice, using the day to show some self-love, spoil yourself a little.

Even when you started dating Sukuna, you didn't care to make a big deal out of your birthday. After a whole year of dating, you had probably mentioned the date a handful of times, you honestly wouldn't be surprised if he forgot. That's why, when the day comes, you think nothing of it when he doesn't wish you a happy birthday before leaving the house. You simply get ready, looking forward to the day you had planned for yourself.

You get your nails done, get a massage, do a little bit of high-end shopping, have lunch at a fancier placed than you usually go to, and go to see a movie. Throughout the day, you get a few messages from family, and a few close friends. The latter confused you, as the friends that messaged you, you didn't recall mentioning your birthday. You thanked them, all the same, before making your way home as the sun began to set.

When you made it home, you saw Sukuna's bike parked in its usual spot, smiling to yourself. You were excited to spend your evening with the man you loved, even if it would be like every other day.

However, you were surprised when you opened the door to an unexpected sight. The house dimly lit, quiet music playing as you walked deeper. Once you reached the living room, you were shocked to see a dozen or more name brand filling the room, all of various sizes. The next thing to shock you, is when you turn your head to see a candlelit dinner on the dining table, your man standing beside it with his usual smirk. He was wearing a handsome suit, almost making you drool, staring at your frozen expression.

"Happy birthday, baby." He said, his deep voice bringing you back to earth.

You examined the room again, processing the fact that he had done all this, all while you thought he had forgotten. Sure, it wasn't a big deal, but the fact that he remembered, that he knew you preferred an intimate celebration versus some big party or something, and still found a way to celebrate you, it made you feel so loved. It hit you then how your friends knew about your birthday.

It was strange, how his actions made you feel seen in a way you hadn't been before, a way you hadn't known you wanted to be. It made you love him even more.

You didn't reply, simply walking towards the love of your life, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. It was passionate as always, full of the feelings neither of you could find the words for. And when you finally pulled away, due to the unfortunate need for air, you stayed close, still wrapped in each other. You lips brush his when you speak, your voice a mere whisper.

"The best one yet."

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

heres a short, fluffy birthday one-shot with sukuna. It's actually my birthday, which is why this idea came to head. It was very rushed, but I think it's cute.

I also want to thank everyone for 100+ followers!! I am so grateful, literally you guys have no idea. I love that people have been enjoying my works, and I promise to try and have something new posted every few days.

For the people who are here for the Uncle!Sukuna series, there will be a new part soon! as well as some other JJK stuff :)

this was not proofread (im sorry)

<3333333

[acid-ixx]

update !

a/n: yall im incredibly sorry for the extremely long delay for chapter 3, it's literally exceeding 7500 words and it's not even finished 😭 im also adding in the fact that writer's block is really kicking my ass and i cant for the life of me focus much nor am i ever satisfied with my countless drafts (literally had to rewrite so much). i swear im not losing interest in dc (or the series) it's just these days have been really hard to me hehe

uhm if u guys want a teaser, then look below !!! (spoilers duh)

the wayne manor, in all its glory, is truly just an empty palace that houses buried memories.

with walls that cover the cries of one lonely child; a child who yearns for the unreciprocated love of their family. it was a cage for a child who stalks the frigid halls without any company, who sleeps in a room too small for their age, who cries for anybody to notice the pain that they had hidden with rose colored tints for so long, who yearns for a warmth that could never be provided in the spaces of harsh, black wallpaper and harsh winters.

it will always be innately lonely, and cold.

yet it's even more sullen now, an atmosphere so empty nobody could pinpoint.

no more was the voice that sings of the butler's splendid cooking. no more was the etching of ballpens on smooth paper on an intricately designed diary that stores all the rants of one's daily life. no more were the strokes on colorful canvases that paint dreams of a different life. no more was the humming of multiple tunes every morning. no more was the presence of the ghost who water the plants every afternoon. no more were the footsteps that thud in the kitchen and the hands that opens the fridge.

and most importantly—

no more were the hushed cries of the kid who resides in the smallest room of the wayne manor.

a house could be described as a building where a unit, moreover a family, lives in; but a home is what represents comfort, a place of belonging and safety.

it was a place encased with deep, historical roots.

but right now, encased in a field of damp grass - wet from heavy rain - and the overwhelming scent of petrichor— the manor is simply a house.

for it could never be complete without the presence of the very lonely child who cries for a love never to be attained.

the wayne manor, in all its worth, would never be the same without (name) wayne, a child who had always belonged, but at the same time, always wronged.

[velvetypoets]

Spoiled Rotten

James Potter always gets what he wants. That's just how it goes.

Warnings: James Potter x reader fanfic, James is down bad, I tagged marauders but no peter, Slytherin reader, Black family reader, reader is portrayed as she/her, reader centric, forbidden love trope, SFW, James perspective, Sirius loves his friends, James is a blurting mess but it leads to victory anyways

thank u sososomuch for the support on the first one!!! im very fond of this work and everyone's been super sweet to me. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE UPLOADED 1 MONTH AGO BEFORE I WENT ON A FIELD TRIP IM SO SORRY my dumbass uploaded it in private. the third might take a longer while since ill' be busier with uni so this one will be a tad longer. ty for the warm support and ily guys <333

[ part 1|part 2|part 3 ]

————————————————————————————————————————

The clock was striking 1:00 when it appears. Perched at the Marauders dorm windowsill stands the purest white owl with beads of orbs so clear James could almost see his own reflection. Its eyes focused on Sirius's drooling face and for every little twitch he makes, the bird's grip on the letter in his claw tightens.

He left a crack of the window open on purpose once Sirius and Remus had fallen still. Sirius had been bullying—Scratch that, James thought. Assaulting every owl that even comes close to the trio the whole day. Looking at it, the bird and Sirius seem well acquainted so what did that Tawny ever do to Pads? James wondered. That owl got a few of its feathers off this morning fighting his friend all for nothing.

 "Emerald," whispered James from his bed. The majestic being blinks slowly before diving in from the open window as she lands gracefully at his bedside table. The letter she was so carefully guarding sits neatly on his lap now. James was simply astonished, "A magnificent bird for a magnificent girl, huh? Thank you, Emerald." 

Emerald blinks to him as she receives James smile. She went straight back to her guard duty and she turned her head dutifully to watch Sirius. He reaches for his glasses and the letter opener next to Emeralds's feet, the bird doesn't flinch one bit. He takes a deep inhale from the velvet green coloured paper as he opens the letter. The parchment smells of the same one that he's been basking in all night. Yes, he slept with his stupid scarf with trails of your warm scent on his neck.

I heard there was an attack on an owl by a wild dog this afternoon. Can that brat of a cousin be any more duller?

James can't hold his smile any longer, he glanced at Emerald who seems interested in his expressions as she keeps looking his way while still keeping guard. "Oh, so you do have a personality," He whispered with a chuckle. 

I don't know how you and Lupin stand him this long. Well, you live and you learn. Now take good care of Emerald. She's fed and full so don't even dare try to buy her love with treats. I told her to keep her eyes on the dog for as long as you're reading this letter. 

Do send her back once you're done, simply say the words. Meet me at the farthest tower of the south near astronomy at dawn. You're a prankster, figure out how to sneak through Filch yourself.

Knock 4 times. Sincerely, 

A blot of ink ended the last word of the letter. James ran a finger softly to it as he let go of the breath he was holding for so long. He reads your letter over and over till he's sure he can recite every word. It was way too short. He reminds himself to ask his charm professor tomorrow of a protection charm to keep time from damaging. 

"Bloody hell, did you really have to risk us all getting the cold for a darn letter, Prongs??" Remus is awake, James expected it. He's a light sleeper and the ruffling paper sound James was making while inspecting the content of the letter to see for any hidden message was probably enough. That and the cold air of a one in the morning approaching winter breeze. 

Remus's drowsy eyes lands on the white snow owl perched on James's table. His brows furry, "Its a snow all along? What was his problem with that Tawny from earlier then??" James shrugs a shoulder still deep in thought, he has not a care in this world right now for anything other than the piece of paper in his hand. "She warned us it was a snow. He shooed all the other owls for precaution I guess,"

Remus lets out an annoyed sigh at James reply, "Those poor birds. We genuinely have enough feathers now to last the three of us a school year thanks to him." 

James hums at the comment. They did keep all the feathers since it'll be a huge waste. They were also avoiding Filch's fury for littering. Remus looks at the sight of his best friend fully immersed in a mere piece of paper, "You're really going through with this?"

The boy halted, looking up to find Remus's concerned face. He knows what he's doing. His best friends are protecting him from what only compares to a mountain of incoming trouble.

Sirius had made it truly sound that your family are absolutely no one to tamper with. With how dramatic he is, he made it explicitly sound like what James has done is an entire war crime. "I told you! Archivus and Nebula Black are not ones to tamper with! They will leash hell on you if you keep this up!"

"Well I can't stop now, Moony."

"You can't or you won't?"  

"Why do you always ask questions you've always known the answer to, my friend?" James lets a frustrated sighs as he rests his head back to his pillow. He cast it to float over his face. All of those words, all 120 of them– 121 since James is counting in the ink blot, they're all directed to him. You took the time to write and send it through your owl, for James. A letter from his new, his cherished, girlfriend.

A full day had abruptly passed by from that meeting with you in front of Charms. Every word and every tune you uttered rings about his head the entire day. Especially the last few bit, one on which you called him your boyfriend. He'd never thought for a million years that you would've called him that soon. James would've never had the guts to do it first. He was supposed to be the courageous one. He's Gryffindors poster boy for Merlin sake!

My idiot boyfriend. Idiot. Boyfriend. Her boyfriend. I'm an idiot boyfriend.

"I don't... know why I'm like this either. I just know I have so much love to give to her.

"Remus turns his head to the window to relieve himself of a smile. He bites his lips for an answer to not let it known, he promised himself he would stay neutral, "I won't stop you."

James closed his eyes. Remus knows the weight he sets free to his friend. He glances back at the owl now looking curiously at him, "Close the window after, yeah? Good night, Prongs."

"Good night, Moony."

——————————————————————————

The marauders had all made up and are back to being attached at the hip again the next day. Remus dragged Sirius the next afternoon to another puzzle night—of which Sirius has a lot to complained about all day— at the common room. Sirius isn't the type to sit around for too long and even for James, finishing a 10k puzzle seems a lot.

The type of person Sirius Black is though, is one that transforms the entire Gryffindor common room decorations and moves the furniture to lay out blankets and swarms of pillows. He even went as far as sneaking to the kitchen and begs the Hogwarts house elves for cookies and hot chocolate. Now there's a huge misunderstanding about the elves point of view in Pads since he is in fact, a Black. But Sirius isn't himself if he didn't have tricks up his sleeves and James has a hunch on that.

"I must say... You've really outdone yourself now, mate," James said, sincerely amused. Sirius put his last touch of fluffing the pillows before he approached James to join him in examining the room, "Oh what would our little Moony do without me, huh Prongsie? Now that I've learned my lesson on that painstaking first game night I'm making this activity worthwhile. He was only going to set up a plain grey blanket and tea! The general ones in bags too! Glad I rid of that one quick."

Sirius makes a condescending tsk, tsk, tsk from his mouth before his brow furrowed, "Say... Where are you off to, Mate? You know you're always welcome to join us. I mean, lily and the other girls said they're joining too."

He wouldn't be able to lie and look at Sirius's face. James averts his attention to kneel and inspect the steaming tray of cookies and fudge laying on top of the puffy carpet. Sirius had somehow got the grant from McGonagall to lay out the Christmas carpet early for the game. Moony's going to have such a headache keeping the carpet out of cookie crumbs.

"Believe me my cookies loving heart breaking here but I've got to talk to Slughorn, Mate. Thinks he's got an idea on improving one of dad's medicines."

Sirius eyes lit up in the last sentence, James wants to punch himself in the face, "That's terrific! That's such good news for Fleamont, Prongs! Why we should be the one joining you!!" Sirius didn't even question him one bit, he pulled him stead to a hug full on the thrill. James hugs him back as he tries to keep his voice from wavering, "Nah, don't ruin your good time with Moony. Go and get absolutely wrecked, man."

Sirius chuckled as he ruffled a hand to James curls, "Oh we'll be so out by the time you got here, don't you worry. I'm going to fill my belly with hard-earned fudge!"

James manages to release himself from Sirius's rough hug and tries to fix his hair up a bit, "I should be going now, but hey! Don't forget to leave me some of that fudge!" He said as he did a bit of run to the door while Sirius tends to Lily and Mary who came just in time to light the candles. Sirius looks back to James one last time, the fangs on him peaking through his grin, "Oh don't you worry, mate. We'll make sure to lick the plate right off tonight!"

James closed the door with a crackle of laughter. He replies to Sirius's grin with an even sassier one, slipping his hand onto his coat pocket that fits exactly four pieces of fudge. He's not James Potter if he doesn't double down.

He puts on the invisibility cloak and makes his way through Hogwarts with ease. Being a Marauder he had his fair share sneaking out a million times and yet, his heart beats so loud it feels like bursting out of him. He's at the southernmost tower bottom of stairs when he heard footsteps.

It was you. You're out of uniform, a Slytherin sweater that's way too big for you and a black coat with emerald buttons that James swears he's seen the same in Sirius's back closet and on Regulus every now and again. You're visibly cold, your cheeks pale as you hold yourself close to keep the warmth in your coat from escaping. Your brows furrowed, James can't think of a more sweeter creature.

Your head whipped right to where he's standing, your face a couple inches away from him. James got absolutely the fear of his life, he almost yelps and gave his presence away. You were looking at the window right behind him, "Dawn is settling... Oh if that man is late for even a minute I'm dumping his ass so hard," You complain to yourself. He held his chuckle and his lips are already giving into a dumb smile as he follows you from a distance. He's thinking of giving you a headstart to make yourself feel better for arriving sooner.

He notices the mystery boxes and blanket you're hiding in the inside of your coat jacket. James eyes widens, it's a thermos that smells familiarly of general store brewed tea, blankets, and a box of magic puzzles.

James freezes in his tracks right then and there, holding his heart to his chest as if its trying to escape. He waits until the door to the tower room at the top creaks open and shuts– to uncover the cloak and lets a laugh for himself. His body trembled the whole time. Tint of flushing red quickly took over his cheeks. James rests his back to the stone wall behind him and let his body slump. He covers his face with his hands before catching his breath and turning to check his faint reflection in the window.

"James Potter you're so incredibly fucked."

——————————————————————————

"There you are!! Do you know how long I've been waiting for you!"

Exactly 9 minutes and 24 seconds James believed. It took him that long to finally rid the tint of his face and regain just enough composure before he's ready to opens the door that leads to you. He counted so he wouldn't make you wait too long. James had decided to set on 10 minutes, max. He closed the door behind him and leaned his back against the door, his famously charming grin forms, "Apologies my darling, I wanted to give you the time to feel like Rapunzel."

Your brows raised, you're sitting in the middle of the room on a carpet with a blanket in your lap. The huge rustic style window behind you makes James view look like a framed painting. "Who's Rapunzel?"

James grin had never fallen that quick, he quickly caught himself, "What? Don't tell me you don't know Rapunzel, Love. Huge Muggle folklore? Long-haired blonde princess that's locked on a tower! She has both a barbie and a disney movie!" His eyes widened in disbelief as he claimed a seat next to you, his eyes met the burnt mark to the hem of your sweater. To rid of feuds from the lack of sharing culture between the Blacks, all family members are required to mark everything they own with a custom spell that burns their names perfectly on the items. (Y/N) Soleia Black He gives a relaxed sigh, he really thought for a second there you were wearing Regulus's sweater or even worse, Notts.

You were nice enough to let him ramble before knocking a soft one on his head, "Really Potter? Muggles? Should I remind you of which lineage I am from?" You shook your head at his clumsiness but you'd be lying if you didn't find that cute. You know what a movie and the gist of it is, Sirius took you to a muggle theatre a while back, "This Rapunzel girl seems like quite the actress to play in a movie with whoever this disney and barbie is though. She's a princess you say, did she ever find her prince?"

You don't seem to be quite aware of the absolute power James is using to not laugh at your innocence, that would be quite rude, "No, well– Yes, she did found her a man but not quite a prince. She fell in love with the thief who tried to rob her and got happily wedded at the end of the story."

You're wide-eyed and let your lips agape at his explanation, James hearts melts at sight of it, "I'm sorry, did you really just say she married the man who tried to bloody robbed her? Happily at that?"

"Oh Merlin, we should really watch tangled together sometimes. I have a telly and the cd at my house, uhh... It's the muggle technology that plays videos on a little screen we learned on Muggles Studies— Well I could just show it to you later, Pads mind was absolutely blown when I showed him," James chuckle as he's reminded of the time he brought his friends over to his house. Sirius keeps trying to look behind the tv to catch some form of little persons coming out.

You giggled at his story, "Is that an invitation for another date, Mister Potter? This one hasn't even started yet," You brought out the box of magic puzzles and the thermos of tea and said innocently, "Why unfortunately for us the wizarding worlds entertainment bizz is limited. Though I did pick up this game that had been trending quite recently. Are you familiar with it by any chance?"

James sighs at the sight of the 10k puzzle game, the same bright colored box with cheesy lines written on it that was sitting as the centerpiece of Sirius's golden plan. Reality is not so subtly mocking him at this point, "Did anybody give this to you or did you lied to the sorting hat and is you just a Ravenclaw in secret?"

You give him a playful punch on the arm, "Hey! Us Slytherins could be smart too! And is capable of doing a little solving here and there, I mean I love to read mystery novels myself. I got the puzzle at the shop but the lame blankets and tea were from this suspicious looking guy in robe that visited me earlier. Made me promised to burn it and never let a wizard know where to find it again. I don't quite get his disgust on the tea, generics are just fine," You pour James a cup of tea from the thermos cup and you look up to find him staring at you like you just said something weird. You raise a brow, "What? You a fancy tea leaves only guy too?"

He snaps back quickly and curses himself in his mind, "No, No! I.. I just never heard you talk that much before," The truth came out of him involuntarily, he's never done this before. Speaking his mind. That only ever leads to bad outcomes, he thinks. Outcomes he can't control. Every second you take to process his words makes him even more anxious, "Look... Fuck, I don't mean anything about it, I love hearing you rant. I'd give everything for it. It's just I've never really heard you talk... This much—"

You watch him stumble on his own words, processing what on earth have you done to this man. For some reason you felt like you've just broken James Potter. Like you went on a ride and it started malfunctioning, is he malfunctioning? Oh God Sirius wouldn't have your head for breaking his best mate right?

"James, it's just me. Breathe, I'm not going anywhere," You said, deciding to save him from more embarrassment that is surely coming if he doesn't stop. It's not just you though, you are not just someone! ,Was all he wanted to scream. You raise your hands to cups his cheeks as it warms your skin almost effectively. James ego can't suffer more than it already is. He is a crumbling, stuttering, mess, all from your presence.

James Fleamont Potter, on his last bit of sanity that hadn't left him yet decides to be truthful for once, "I think your ranting has done burnt my brain."

You stifle a laugh, "Wah-What?! That's your explanation for me? You big foolish mess of an idiot, you! Ohh I'm so going to hex you now! What was all that about, Potter??"

James feels there should exist a spell to make the ground open up and swallow him whole, "Next time you try something new to me, I think you might have to do a bit of precaution first, Lovie," He sighs, he lets a hand courses through the curls of the hair upon his forehead, "My heart nearly jumped out of its place. I'm being truthful to you, you should open your eyes to the crazy things you do to me, (Y/N)."

Hearing your name come out of him feels surreal, not a sweet nickname or your family name, just yours. You don't know how to feel about all of this. You don't know what to think of him. Fuck it. You shoot.

"You don't actually like me do you, James?"

Silence. Then another brain fart erupts.

"What if I said yes?"

That came out too soon for his liking. James lets out a groan as he stops himself from covering his face to hide away, "What about it, (Y/N)? What if I did all this to set myself up with you. What if my thing for our complicated arrangement was you all along?"

You seem to have fallen still again. He brings your hand gently to his face and lightly plants a kiss on the back, "I've completely fallen for you. (Y/N) you have no idea the mess you made out of me. You've not a clue of the lengths I do for you and.. And I feel like I'm always doing the wrong things when I'm with you."

The kiss feels hot on your skin. He continues with his hazel eyes piercing sincerely right through you and it feels like he's seeing you bare for what you are. The girl who was born from the wrong family. A Black with more feelings than the other. The weak one, as your father likes to remind you.

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. Truthfully, I'm not used to love," You blurts, biting your lips in agony.

"I, If there's anything I can do to help you..." He sensed the weight anchoring in his stomach long before it falls. His tensed shoulders feel like it's crumbling down on him. You smile faintly and leaned closer.

Don't blame James for feeling so down cause not even Merlin himself would've predicted you to plant a kiss on his cheek, a near miss from his lips.

"I do feel intrigued enough that you somehow managed to trick me into all this. Bravo, Potter. I think I'd give you a chance."

He's stiff as the day he'll be when he's gone. The paleness leaving his tone as warmth fluttery butterflies color him in the reddest hue. You chuckled,

"Well, Potter. You've got your princess. Now what?"

[precure1ove]

must be the season of the witch w. cater diamond

byi : secret witch reader, no magic au except for reader, cater being weak to pretty people, non graphic mentioned animal corpses

a/n : A LOVELY BIRTHDAY GIFT FOR MY MOST AMAZING FRIEND @ceruleancattail ₍^ >ヮ<^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ!!

Cater sighs, checking his phone once more despite it being ultimately useless as were the other times he tried before. It was just his luck that everyone decided to cancel on him with half-assed excuses; perhaps he should've known by the looks on their faces when he first asked.

It's not his fault that everyone was posting about that new trendy pumpkin latte so of course he had to join in or else he'll lose his status as a social influencer, even THE Vil Schoenheit posted about it.

Cater finally tucks his phone away, looking around at the street he ended on or the one he was supposed to meet up with his friends. Rows of the same high quality modern shops though one caught his eye it was a tucked shop with a sort of ‘witchy’ vibe.

 He didn't know what drew him towards that shop, maybe it was magic but he quickly shook that thought out of his head after all magic is fictional.

The door gave off a little ring as Cater took a peek inside the shop, the realization set in that it wasn't that far off from being every teenager's witch phase come true. As he explored every shelf the store had to offer, corpses of cats, rabbits, birds stuffed and posed for the artists desire, unusually labeled jars—seriously why was one named ‘drink me’ and nothing more—he realized how the shop seemed so much bigger than it looked on the outside, maybe it really was magic.

He snorted quietly in his hand, magic, yeah right. He passes by a section full of charms, this was more his style, objects to match with a bracelet or decorate his phone. Cater let his hands drift carefully from charm to charm, one shaped like the skulls he saw earlier, others from the stuffed animals. However one caught his eye, a crescent moon hanging off a diamond he traces the delicate patterns carved on the object, entranced by the object as if it put a spell on him. 

Cater didn't know how long he stood there admiring the mini charm but it was long enough that a teasing voice pulled him out of trance.

 “If you're gonna stare any longer i can ring it up by the register so i know you won't steal it”

He turns towards the noise, only to be met with a huge white hat, his eyes glance downward and there you are, an amused smirk paired with a smile that could only scream mischief. Embarrassment swelled within him, was he really acting like a shoplifter from being spell bound by a witchy charm—a small part of him is now glad that he was alone, he would of never lived this down if his friends were here— a nervous laugh escaped from him “Im..uh sorry i wasn't going to steal this i swear.”

 You laugh out loud at his nervousness and Cater swears that was its own magical remedy. His heart stuttered as he gaped at you, words dying even before they dared to make a sound out of him, you truly stole his breath away, like a real enchantress.

Your laughter turned to quiet giggles, twisting away beckoning him to follow, the charm tight in his grasp. You both ventured deeper into the shop, an opening appearing ahead with a register on top of a desk with small knick knacks to decorate.

He watches you skip behind the register, a ding welcoming you as you smile back up at him, he places the charm into your hand, “So- what made you want to work in a place like this?”

A hand scratches his cheek, contempt in simply observing you after handing in the money you asked for. “Witchcraft has been an ...interest of mine for some time so I thought why not make a hobby out of it! Long story short, I found a ramshackled building, fixed it up and ta-da my own shop!” A grin plastered on your face, Cater returns a smile of his own, lifting the charm as it dinged together up to his eyes receipt deep in his pocket,

“Well my dear little witch, what does this charm mean?” 

An exasperated look was on your face at the word ‘little’ but you complied with his question anyway, reaching over the register for a closer look. 

“Desire and protection.”

A hum of acknowledgement made its way out of him, grasping the charm in his hands again, he glimpsed up at you busy with packing away certain items, a smile once again presenting itself on his face. His phone vibrates in his pockets, checking it he sees another post about the forgotten trendy drink, crap.

“A-aha… it was great coming here! But i best be off, gotta update my magicam!♡” You look at him just as he blows a kiss at you then saunterinnering off quickly, the bell door rang throughout the shop, signifying his exit. 

A couple streets over Cater whines miserably, why had he acted like such a fool in front of such a , where was his normal happy go lucky attitude. He stops walking, realization settled in…

.…HE FORGOT TO ASK FOR YOUR NAME?!

⠀

EXTRA

You sigh again, a light pink dust over your cheeks as soon as the shop bell confirms you of the pretty man's exit. You giggle to yourself, lifting up a diamond charm hanging off a crescent moon.

You had no faith in that soulmate spell you casted out of pure boredom but surprisingly it had worked. A giddy feeling fueled you, you had found your soulmate and he was surprisingly cute, hopefully by now he would find your name and number written on the receipt.

And he did after venting to his notes app, especially how your phone was now always full of notifications and a date was planned for the following day to try out a new trendy drink.

likes & reblogs appreciated

masterlist⠀ — ⠀ request here

[kkoffin]

Im sorry I just have to rant for a sec.

Everytime I see a radfem talk about the palestine and isreal situation, they never actually talk about whats happening in palestine or the history behind it. Like they never have a discussion about palestine itself.

Unless to say, that hating on jews isn't right. Which I agree with 100%. But why is that the only time the situation, or the GENOCIDE gets talked about in radfem spaces.

Why isn't radfems actually advocting/discussing about it, with deep analysis and data, as they do with other important discussions (fgm, racism, gender ideology, misogyny in many types, ect ect)

Idk maybe I'm just full of hate.

I believe that if you aren’t thoroughly educated on a topic I don’t think you should broadcast your uneducated opinions to ur followers. I do not consider myself educated enough on the history and politics to speak on the topic, but I assure you, there’s aplenty of discussion about it not only in radfem spaces but in all leftist spaces if you want to engage with it. Or even better, just do your own research. Stop relying on fucking social media accounts and tumblr blogs for your global political views. I kinda have to ask, why is it that every time I talk about being jewish or about antisemitism, my ask inbox is flooded with interrogations regarding a conflict I never claimed to be educated on? As far as I’m aware, I speak very little on the I/P conflict outside of responding to said asks. Even then, I ignore half of them.

I recognise antisemitism when I see it. I am cautious of who I tell I’m jewish. I keep updated on who’s yelling “fuck the jews” and who’s burning and graffitiing synagogues, only for my own safety. I’ll say something when someone in my community says “antisemitism isn’t real” or “I wouldn’t shed a tear if there was an organised rape against jewish women”, but I never claimed to be an expert on some many many decade old political issue. I’m not a journalist, I don’t research every happening in Israel and Palestine and its entire history. It’s simply not my area of expertise, but for some fucking reason when yall hear I’m jewish, you insist it must be, and interrogate me with questions about it. My blog and my interests are with women’s issues, not wars. I am jewish, sometimes I will speak about antisemitism and the jewish experience. “they never talk about the history” okay and yall don’t talk about the history of the civil war in Syria. Or immigration, or global warming or animal abuse. It’s just not my field. I do not know enough of the history to make claims and start debates. You cannot expect everyone to know everything. I have a fucking law degree to fill my brain with on top of women’s issues. Do not expect every social media influencer and blogger to know everything about every issue enough to speak on them all. We are not the president. We are (mostly) teenagers and young adults who have laundry to fold.

“why aren’t radfems actually advocating…” probably the same mf reason. they have a focus on women’s issues. I have occasionally mentioned the rape involved in the conflict, but all that boils down to is men rape. no matter what their political alignment, no matter who they think owns what land. If men are so inclined and they are provided the opportunity, they rape women. That’s as far as it goes regarding my field.

I will not speak on an issue I do not feel confidently educated on. Just because I’m jewish doesn’t mean I know every working of the IDF, and I never claimed to. Please fuck off and stop interrogating jewish people on their opinions of the actions of a government/military they aren’t even governed by. And stop relying on and expecting fucking tumblr blogs to tell you about every issue in the world. Go ask someone who’s got it as their paid job.

[llondonfog]

ough listening to The Prince of Egypt soundtrack again. The Plauges. Malleus and Silver. Ough. Im psychologically damaging myself 🛌.

allow me to contribute to the psychological damage even further!! :) (+ sorry in advance for the incredible word vomit because i got in a Mood!!)

The relationship between Malleus, Silver, and Lilia is one that has me foaming on the floor, scratching at my walls, and genuinely rocking back and forth in all around despair, and I don't think it's given the nuance that it should be.

Lilia hatched Malleus out of the love he had for Meleanor and Raverne, a grieving and mournful love that he's carried for centuries for the two people in the world who he cared for most and could not save. The fact that their child, the only remnant left of their existence in this world, might die because of the cold, aching loneliness it has suffered under for so many centuries without its parents, is simply unthinkable. He cannot fail again, and whatever the price may be, he will not allow Malleus, Lilia's last link to his loved ones, to perish. And yet we know from Malleus during his youth, Lilia was not one to raise him directly, though he was called in from time to time to help aid in Malleus' tantrums despite the fact that he was most likely exiled. While not cruel nor unkind to the young prince, he is not fatherly material, nor does he pretend to be even as he softens over time due to his travels and worldly experiences. However, one cannot fault Malleus for latching on to Lilia to perceive him in that role, whether or not he's ever spoken such a desire— without another male figure in his life, Lilia is the only constant enough for Malleus to look to for guidance.

On the other hand, we have Silver. Silver, the child of Lilia's greatest enemy, the one who is directly responsible for the death of Meleanor and most likely had a hand in Raverne's disappearance. A child who Lilia fully considers killing in his cradle in an act of revenge for all that had been lost due to the Knight of Dawn and the Kingdom of Swords' quest for power and control. And yet Silver is the very same child fated to be loved so truly by Lilia, waking for him from a sleep of four hundred years. And with Silver, Lilia truly becomes a father— albeit, not the best example of parenthood as we know. But there's a depth of care here that we do not see with Malleus (understanding it would have been impossible— Malleus was the crown prince, Lilia a disgraced and lowly species in the hierarchy of Briar Valley), and Lilia truly tries his best to ensure Silver's childhood is a happy and healthy one. It's clear that even Silver reciprocates that same devotion (cue me blubbering over the acorn scene), and that Lilia does recognize himself as Silver's father to the point of feeling agitated when his "lie" is discovered and he refuses to dig deep and confront the reasoning behind why he simply couldn't tell Silver the truth of their relationship before.

(Don't get me started on THAT, I could have a whole page on my fascination with Lilia's twisted relationship on love and bonds.)

So we have two young men for the sake of comparison— both owe their lives to Lilia, both raised/guided in some capacity by him, both viewing him as a father/father figure. And yet, there's a difference in their closeness with this man; Malleus has the gift of having spent more time with Lilia, and yet Silver is the one who views himself as Lilia's one and only son. Silver constantly thinks of how to ease his father's life, how to repay him for all that he's done, and how he can best ensure Lilia's "happily ever after", devoted to him in a way that almost makes him Lilia's knight in shining armor instead of Malleus'. Whereas I feel like Malleus not necessarily takes Lilia for granted, but I don't think he's as acutely aware as Silver of the precious nature of time, and how they might have so little left with Lilia until the start of Chapter 7. And I think it's that separation of Silver viewing himself as Lilia's son out of gratitude vs Malleus' view of Lilia being his because he's simply always been a protective, guiding force that really sets off this confrontation for me.

It's this difference in how they think of Lilia that has me spinning wildly in my head. Lilia's departure is tearing Silver apart, it is breaking this boy into a million, shattered pieces, and he is hiding it from his father! He wants nothing more than to beg the man to take him along, to stay by his side and protect him, and yet there is simply no way that he feels that he could demand such things from Lilia if this is the choice that his father has made— he will respect Lilia's decision even if it breaks his heart. For Malleus, this is simply unthinkable— Lilia MUST stay, because it is what both he and Silver want. And while I do agree that Lilia handled this entire decision in the absolute worst way possible, it was still his choice (to be a dick) and Malleus is robbing him (and everyone) of this agency by forcing them into his dreamworld.

So now Silver must stand before the prince he's sworn to protect and serve, on behalf of the man who truly loves him out of everyone in this world, and fight for Lilia's right to leave them and die alone even if allowing him to leave will destroy Silver. And that's just Wild to me— the son of the man who took nearly everything from Lilia is now the one to love him so fiercely that he is willing to stand up to the greatest mage in the world and fight on Lilia's behalf. And every day I live in fear of the next update where Malleus has had enough of Silver's meddling, and finally fulfills what his mother was not capable of accomplishing.

All for the love of the man who believes himself to be so truly unnecessary in their lives.

When I get you, Lilia Vanrouge, WHEN I GET YOU!!!!