#none of their answers will be as beneficial as mine though

[goddamnit-akabayashi]

Aozaki-san, how does one get over a breakup?

What do I look like, some kind of love guru? Go down to Akihabara and ask the first otaku you find on the street this question; trust me, they'll have plenty of experience with it.

[ijwrsmff]

Romantic! Yandere Silco with an overworked female who desperately needs rest but can't relax. He has tried to be subtle and exert his control from the shadows slowly over time but he feels he has to step in now. He thought he was prepared but it is hard for him to take care of someone who is scared of him and what may happen at any moment. Silco learns that being soft and gentle with his dear works much better than kidnapping or threats.

Here you go :3 I hope you enjoy! Thank you for requesting, Silco is 1000000% husband material. I love him so damn much wuijakcfbnx

Word Count: 2,002

He had tried to steal your heart. It didn’t work. You sat there, tied to a chair, with Silco staring over you. He circled the chair, and gently touched your shoulders and arms as he walked around you. “Darling…you have yet to even say a word to me. What is it you want? Anything you desire…you can have. As long as you’ll be mine.” He stopped directly in front of you and took note of the tears that had fallen each time he entered the room. 

“P-please…just let me go! I promise I won’t tell anyone you did it, I just want to go home.” You whimpered and tried to recoil back when he knelt down to your level so you could stare into his eyes…those terrifying eyes. They didn’t even look human. It only spiked your feelings of fear. 

He looked at your face, your tears and expression. When he went to wipe your tears, he stopped before he could touch you. That look…how you flinched and closed your eyes as you whimpered. It broke what was left of his heart. “If…that is what you wish. However, I can’t part from you for long. We’ll strike a deal, then.” Silco started to untie you, and you looked confused if anything. 

“A…deal?” It sounded awful. What if he was only untying you to torture you? However he hadn’t hurt you yet. Except for the slight burns from the ropes. “What kind of deal?” You stayed still as he untied you, not wanting to find out if he really intended on hurting you. 

“Yes. A deal. If you come back here, to my location once a week, you may have your freedom. However you must stay the full 24 hours. You spend hours upon hours doing paperwork. This one day of relaxation could prove beneficial for us both. That is all I ask.” He smiled, but the smile left his face as soon as you jumped out of the chair and put distance between you. 

“Why? Why do I have to come back?” Skeptical, and slightly fearful it made you furrow your brows and try to hide the remaining terror on your face. He was an extremely powerful man, he practically ran the lanes. “What…do you intend to do with me while I’m here?” 

Silco respected your distance, though he wanted there to be little to none between you. He didn’t do so much as step closer. “I want to see you. That’s all, darling.” His genuine look made you even more confused. If he really meant it, then you had gained the attention of possibly the most dangerous man in the underground. If he wasn’t being honest…he was a damn good actor. 

“If…if you swear to not harm me…I don’t think I have another choice…” It was concerning, knowing you had to meet with the man weekly. “What will you do?” He never answered your question. “What will you do to me?” Part of you didn’t even want to know the answer. The other part wanted to be prepared for what was to come. 

“I aim to win your heart. I have had my eye on you longer than you can imagine. We will eat together, read together…anything your heart desires.” This time he did take a step forward, and when you stepped back he raised his hands on surrender. “We’ll do this the easy way, okay?” He held out a hand, waiting for you to grab it. 

To him, it wasn’t even the “easy” way. Though for you it may be. He realized that kidnapping, torture wasn’t the way to win you over. He knew you liked simple things, crafting and music. Perhaps he could really give this a try. Doing things more “traditionally”, even if harsher methods were more common and even simple for him. 

You looked at him for a long time, eyeing his hand outstretched to you. But you didn’t want to know what would happen if you disobeyed him. With that in mind, you held his hand. It was…cold. Just as you assumed his heart was. 

He led you home, and it wasn’t in the least surprising how he knew exactly where it was and how to get there. He hadn’t let go of your hand the entire time. It was a display of ownership, but even moreso, protection. People would see him with you, and either pity you…or be fearful of you. You were holding hands with someone who is known to be powerful. In that way…it seemed you had your own bit of power now. For as long as he wouldn’t harm you. 

From then on, you followed through with your deal. At first it was terrifying, being escorted by Sevika or another guard dog of Silco’s, but you got used to it eventually. In fact…you found you actually really enjoyed spending time with him. He was polite, to you at least. And he had a sweet relationship with Jinx, who you’d also gotten pretty close to. It was…nice. 

Today was another day that you were aiming to go see Silco. It was earlier in the day when you woke up, so you headed in that direction. He had sent many letters, requesting that you take breaks. He really must have eyes on you at all times. To be honest…you really were overworking yourself. You were tired, zombie-like even. It was really calming to see Silco. For some reason you didn’t quite understand yet. 

There were many people on the street, but the closer you got to Silco’s “lair”, the fewer people there were. It shifted from commonfolk, to mainly Silco’s henchmen of sorts. You recognized a lot of them, as Silco would often have to respond to problems in his plans that he had directed those henchmen to do. It was almost funny how he constantly got onto you for overworking yourself, when he did it to himself as well. 

The streets were mostly desolate. But it seemed it wouldn’t be peaceful in the slightest, given who approached you. It was a regular man, but he would prove to be quite the problem. He was clearly drunk, and staggered towards you. The others looked at him suspiciously, knowing you were under Silco’s care. 

“You’re Silco’s, huh? Why not be mine?” He hiccupped and almost tripped as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. His breath reeked of booze, and a guard or two got closer in case the situation escalated. Did he really think that the “pick up line” would work?

“No thank you.” You shrugged his arm off your shoulders and walked closer to Silco’s main building. Not getting very far, you stopped when he grabbed your arm. Hard. He either had no idea how strong he was, or he was trying to hurt you on purpose. 

“Come on, I’m fun. That jackass probably has no idea how to have a good time.” He leaned closer and you locked eyes with one of the henchmen. Silently begging for help. You weren’t very strong, so breaking free of this firm grasp was extremely difficult. Given how exhausted you were from working nearly all night, it only amplified the feeling of helplessness. 

Luckily the guard saw your look and rushed over. He knew he’d be in deep trouble if he didn’t step in and you were harmed further. Silco had made it very clear you were not to be touched, harmed, or even looked at “wrong”. So when the man grabbed you, he was already in trouble. Silco wouldn’t care about the reasonings if you were harmed in any way, and punish anyone in the area. 

Another guard ran up, and removed the drunk’s hand forcefully. With how he screamed, it wouldn’t be surprising if that arm was broken. The guard led you to Silco’s office, and looked fearful when he noticed the bruising on your arm. 

“What happened?” His words were cold, devoid of any emotion. You knew what that tone meant, and you knew someone…or multiple someones…were about to get hurt. Bad. Maybe even killed. That was not good. Not good at all. 

Before anyone could respond, the other guard walked in with the man who grabbed you in tow. He was screaming profanities and trying (but failing) to remove himself from the guard’s grasp. “He grabbed y/n. Hard. We stopped him as soon as we saw it happening, but he was on her before we could get there.” 

Silco spoke, and directed you to his chair, and made you sit on his lap, facing him. He ran his fingers over your arms and looked at you adoringly. It almost made the following words feel less terrifying. Almost. “Take him to Sevika.” 

He then ignored everything else, and you tried to as well. “Are you okay, my love?” He rubbed the spot covered in a hand shaped bruise. Very gently, mind you. He didn’t want to hurt you, he was simply observing the damage. “He will be dealt with. Never to harm you again.” 

“You don’t have to hurt him! He probably didn’t realize how hard he was grabbing me…” You wanted to save his life. Knowing that those who crossed Silco usually didn’t make it out alive. The ones that did? They lived. But only as a warning to those who dare try the same thing they did. 

He even ignored that statement. “Darling…you look so tired. Had you not obeyed my instructions and taken a rest?” He took note of the bags under your eyes, and how utterly drained you looked now that you were on his lap and he could see you closer. “You know you don’t need a job. You can stay in your home, and allow me to take care of everything.” 

You felt extremely vulnerable at that moment. It did sound…appealing. “But…I don’t know what I would do if I had no job. It’s important, it keeps me busy and I hate not having anything to do…” But your argument continued to grow weaker. You had talked through this many times before, and you know he hated you overworking yourself as you did. 

“I could always provide you with things to do. You could even work for me, as an assistant of sorts.” He smiled and used one hand to cradle your face, the other arm wrapped around your back. “You would never have to worry about anything ever again.” 

“Then…we should make another deal.” It was bold of you to say, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t spark his interest. If it were in his benefit, of course he would. His word was his bond, and you both knew that. 

“What are the conditions of your deal?” It was a fond memory, remembering the deal you had made all those weeks ago. His smile was small, he didn’t often have a big smile. Only with you and Jinx. 

“I work for you…and quit my other job. But I stay here…with you. Instead of my old home. And…” You blushed a little bit, and looked away from him. It took a few deep breaths for you to gather the courage to say the next bit, “And…you stay with me. So we are…together. And you promise not to cast me aside.” It was terrifying, getting those words out. 

You had come to care about Silco, deeply. He was different with you, than anyone else you had seen him with. Softer, more genuine. Your countless “dates”, movie nights, dinners, coffee breaks, hugs…everything. 

His smile was small still, but his eyes lit up. Silco was clearly the happiest man in the world at this exact moment. Having you in his arms, and now knowing you really did want to be with him? It was possible he’d never been happier. 

“Deal.” 

Maybe…just maybe…the easy way paid off in the end sometimes. He would have waited his whole life for you to accept him in this way. But be careful…because now? 

He would never let you go. 

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Villain's Coffee Shop part 5

Warnings: bleeding out, gravely injured Villain, stab wounds, corrupt Superhero

Hero smiled wolfishly, casually propping her feet up on the table with ankles crossed. "Nah, you owe me for the whole 'saving your life' thing. I deserve a free drink."

Villain coughed out a wheezy laugh, then winced at the pain it cost him. "Would now be an appropriate time to question your motives for saving me?" He asked, remembering the conversation from the alley.

Hero tilted her head to one side like an owl studying something intriguing. Something about it put Villain on edge. "Because I'm a hero. It's what we do, we save people."

"Not good enough." Villain shook his head. "Superhero is a hero too, yet he would kill me without remorse. So why did you really help me?"

Hero frowned thoughtfully, mulling it over for a few minutes, and when her answer came it was slow, but honest. "Maybe... maybe I felt that someone like you didn't deserve to die, maybe I thought all you needed is a second chance. Because... maybe you were just unlucky in life, to end up here. Maybe you were dealt a bad hand, maybe something happened that made you cold and bitter. Maybe that's why you became a villain, not because you enjoy hurting people, but because... it's all you've ever known. Stereotypical villain type, a man gone bad due to past trauma, you know?" She quirked an eyebrow quizzically. "Am I wrong to assume that?"

Villain averted his eyes, blood running cold. She wasn't quite right... but she wasn't wrong, either. He raised a weak hand to his face, realizing his mask was gone. Not that it mattered anyway. But it exposed a giant spiderweb of vicious raised scars that covered nearly his whole face, most from serious burns, marring his features. He looked terrifying, like a classic monster.

"...Will you tell me what turned you into a villain if I ask nicely?" Hero teased lightly, but Villain could see the intense curiosity in her eyes.

He chewed his lip, cautious and distrusting. "I guess it's because the world wouldn't accept me as the good guy," he mumbled, half wishing Hero wouldn't hear it. But Hero nodded patiently for him to continue, and Villain swallowed hard.

"I tried to fit in, to be good, and for a while it worked. I was happy, and kind, and charming; a normal guy with big dreams and a great future ahead of him... until my luck and life changed forever." Villain gestured meaningfully to the mass of burn scars stretching across his face. "I was involved in a tragic accident, and now no one sees beyond my face. They see these scars and it terrifies them, but what they don't know is that I got them running into a burning building to save a little girl." Villain's voice hitched, and he tried to squash down the wave of emotions rising in him as he vividly relived the moment that forever changed him. He forced himself to keep talking, though his voice was shaky.

"I was brave like a hero, I ran straight into fire, and both literally and metaphorically got burned for it. I saved a life, but mine ended that day. I spent weeks in the hospital, but when I was discharged... everything was different. No one wanted to hire me. They were all too scared of how I looked, because I was intimidating to customers. Bad for business." Villain's lip curled angrily. "I really did try to be good, but I was rejected at every turn, no one would give me a chance to show my worth. All I wanted, all I needed, was one opportunity. But eventually I found it was more beneficial to me to become a criminal instead, to take what I wanted and hurt anyone who got in the way. And now here I am." He gestured dramatically to his whole broken body laying on the couch.

Hero's face filled with newfound understanding and sympathy, before confusion replaced it. "But... you run the entire coffee shop, and you've never worn a mask when serving customers. How did none of us see your scars?"

"Several hours of my morning every day dedicated to using facial molding makeup to hide all the damage. Like the stuff they use in movies to hide imperfections or change a face's shape." Villain smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "The stuff's expensive to buy, but I use a portion of the money I steal to cover the cost."

Hero leaned back in her chair, taking it all in. "Wow... you've really got it rough, huh?"

"Now you know why I spent my days fighting people like you," Villain snorted bitterly. "It's the only way I can make enough to stay off the streets and survive. By stealing and killing."

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@federthenotsogreat @everynameistakencarrots

[marvelouspeterparker]

mine

pairing: mob!tom holland x reader

requests: wearing Mob!toms stuff? like maybe his suit jacket but without something under it, to a meeting? + mob!tom goes feral after an enemy flirted with his girl? both by anonymous

warnings: violence and smut

notes: hope you don’t mind that i combined two requests! also check out @geminiparkers​ mob!tom playlist which coincidentally has this same gif on the page haha + this might as well be dedicated to @duskholland​ as it is mob monday and she is the queen of mob!tom :)

It wasn’t unusual for you to sit in Tom’s meetings. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. He liked having you as involved as possible, he trusted you with all his heart and he didn’t want to keep you in the dark. He even got you a “throne”, as he called it, to match his in his meeting room. They were two large chairs with intricate and expensive designs on the back rests. As soon as anyone walked into the room, it was clear who was in charge. 

Although you had your own seat, you rarely used it. You appreciated it, of course, and when you sat on it you felt powerful, Tom’s hand over yours, his thumb rubbing your skin softly as he barked orders at his men, intimidating every person in the room. You felt like a queen sitting proudly beside her king.

But, as much as you adored your throne, you and Tom both preferred when you sat in your rightful place, in his lap. He liked to wrap his arms around you and hold you sometimes to destress when his men were acting like fools and everything seemed to be going wrong. 

Sometimes he would even distract himself, slipping his hands under your clothes, one holding you down as the other made a mess between your thighs. He didn’t care if anyone heard you, and you didn’t either––it was hard to worry about anything else when he had his hands on you. 

The men knew not to look at you, only making eye contact with Tom as he spoke, as if nothing were happening. If they did look, they’d be punished. Simple as that. And no one wanted that.

You had just finished eating a snack when you made your way over to the meeting room. You knew that Tom would need your company today, his meeting was with Lorenzo, one of the worst in the business. His actual business was good, and it would be very beneficial to join forces with him, but he was a nightmare. Which is why Tom considered him to be one of his enemies. 

The meeting had started a little while ago, but there hadn’t seemed to be any shouting, so you assumed it was going well. You slipped in quietly and noticed Tom perk up when he saw you, but then his eyes trailed over your body and he licked his lips, partially tuning everyone out as he focused on you. You were wearing one of his shirts with a belt tied around your waist, accentuating your figure. 

He spread his legs and sat back, waiting for you as you walked along the long table, saying hi to Harrison as you walked by him. You bit your lip and smiled as you reached Tom, his hands immediately pulling you in by your waist. You bent down and gave him a kiss and he smacked your ass before grabbing it possessively, making you squeak and giggle softly.

You sat down on his lap, your body turned into him, your arm hanging loosely around his neck, legs over the chair as you faced the front. He leaned in to whisper in your ear, one arm wrapped around your side, the other on your thigh. “You’re not wearing anything under this, are you?” He bit your earlobe and you could tell he wanted to take you right then and there.

You bit your lip as you looked down at him and that was all the answer you needed. “Christ, you’re trying to kill me.” 

You both turned your attention back to the front and you tried not to make a face when you noticed Lorenzo staring at you shamelessly. You took a sharp inhale, knowing this wouldn’t be good––for him. You saw that none of his men were with him, he was so arrogant he often left without backup, stupid, really. 

“Y/N,” Lorenzo spoke up, smiling menacingly at you and you felt Tom’s hold tighten. “How are you, beautiful?”

You tried your best not to roll your eyes but your voice was monotone when you responded. “Fine, thanks.”

You could practically hear Tom’s blood boiling as he growled out his next words. “If we could focus on the task at hand, please.” 

You pressed a kiss to his cheek and felt a little at ease when you noticed his demeanor lighten up a bit. He squeezed your thigh appreciatively. 

Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, annoyingly confident. “Well I’m just saying hello to the pretty girl in your lap.” He licked his teeth, suddenly perking up and you knew this couldn’t possibly be a good thing. “Tell you what. I’ll agree to the terms.”

“Great––” 

“If,” he interrupted, “I get one night with the beautiful lady.” 

You tensed, your eyes widening and just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, he went on. “All I need is one night for you to realize how much better I am than him, sweetheart.” He winked, “Promise I’ll have you screaming my name.” 

Tom made a gesture so fast you barely even saw it, but before you knew it, two of his men grabbed Lorenzo and brought him over to the other end of the table. 

Tom tapped your waist and kissed your cheek and you got the message and slid off his lap. You sat in your chair, your legs curled under you, bracing yourself for what was to come. 

Lorenzo still had an obnoxious smile on his face and Tom wanted nothing more than to punch it off. So he did. His arm swung forward with no warning, knocking the man’s head back momentarily as Tom’s henchmen held him up. He groaned, wincing as blood coated his teeth, his skin already red. There was no doubt his nose was broken, Tom trained almost every day and he knew how to use his hands, in more ways than one. His fists kept pounding into the man, beating him to a pulp. No one disrespected you and got away with it. By the time he was done, the man could barely stand on his own.

Tom lifted his head roughly, gripping his hair. “You don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as her.” He looked at him, pure loathing in his face as he fixed his suit nonchalantly. “Darling?” He held his hand out for you, his eyes softening immediately as they found you. 

You took his hand eagerly and stood next to him. He looked over to the man groaning in pain, his gaze hardening again as he held his head up. “Apologize.”

When he said nothing, Tom raised his fist again and Lorenzo screamed in protest. “Okay okay! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

Tom dropped his head and stood back, watching him indifferently as he weakly rolled his neck back to lift his head on his own.“Do you accept his apology, love?” His tone was sweet when he talked to you and the shocking contrast in how he treated you turned you on more than it should have.

You let go of his hand and stepped forward. You slapped Lorenzo with all the force you had, your hand stinging from the pain, as he grunted, but you sucked it up. “Fuck no.” You stepped back and found yourself in Tom’s embrace.

Harrison handed Tom a handkerchief to wipe his knuckles and he looked at the two men holding Lorenzo up, “Deal’s off. Take him out of here.” He flicked his wrist towards the door and everyone rushed out, the man’s screams and curses becoming muffled as he was shoved out. 

Before the door even shut, Tom threw the handkerchief aside and kissed you, pouring all his frustrations, love and want into it. You sighed and brought your hands up to his hair, loving the way he groaned and pressed himself into you when you pulled at his curls lovingly. 

He brought his hands to your waist and pulled off the belt and ripped the buttons open as you sat on the table. “Look at you,” he cooed.You felt your skin heat up under his gaze as he lifted your legs over his shoulders, kneeling down in front of you. When he looked between your legs, he gasped quietly, “Naughty girl, you’re practically dripping.” He looked up at you as he started mouthing at your thigh. “Seeing me defend your honor got you that hot and bothered?”

You nodded unabashedly. “Love seeing you get violent,” you muttered quietly, “It’s my guilty pleasure.” Your hand found it’s way back into his curls, the other holding you up on the table. 

He grinned, “Then I guess we’re a perfect match, huh?” He licked into your wet cunt, savoring your taste on his tongue, and you sighed. 

“Oh fuck, Tommy.”

“That’s it,” he licked all over your pussy, spreading your wetness and making an even bigger mess as he spit on your clit before sucking it into his mouth, his hands holding your thighs tightly around his head. “Want you to cum all over me. Want you to scream my name, let everyone know you’re mine.”

He buried your face between your legs, moaning as you used him to get off, clearly enjoying himself. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, letting you squeeze your thighs and grind against him, whines and expletives flying from your mouth freely. It wasn’t long before your head dropped back, a long and breathy “Shit––” falling past your lips as you tensed for a few moments before your body went slack, sinking into the table. 

Tom stood up and grabbed you before you could lie back though, pulling a small whine from you. He got rid of his belt and unbuttoned his pants before pulling his cock out. He was hard, leaking, his tip a prominent red. Seeing you in his clothes, then seeing you slap the shit out of Lorenzo really did something to him. 

He grinned, his lips still shining from your release, and pulled you back into his lap. With shaky legs, you climbed up and slung one leg over him, grabbing his cock and sliding him in slowly. “Oh god––” you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you leaned your forehead against his.

His hands slid up your legs all the way to your waist before one hand slid up to the side of your face. He tilted his head up and pressed his lips against your parted ones, practically inviting him to capture them in his own. “Look at me baby, can you do that? Wanna see your pretty eyes while I fuck you.”

You whimpered and clenched around him making him buck into you and hiss. You opened your eyes slowly, the dazed look in them making him twitch inside of you. You turned your head and kissed his palm before leaning in and kissing him again, practically melting into him, your mouths merging together, your bodies pressed as close as possible as he guided your movements with one hand. 

You were grinding into him, too focused on the pleasure to think about the cold room and the fact that you were fully naked and he was still clothed. But you knew if you did think about it, it would only turn you on even more. 

His hand on your waist slid down and grabbed your ass, smacking it occasionally as the other held the back of your neck and pulled you into him. The kiss was messy and wet and filled with tongue and passion, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way––you just wanted him.

You pulled away reluctantly to take a breath, panting as you watched each other hungrily. You started bouncing up and down on his cock and both his hands grabbed your ass, slamming you down onto him. “That’s it, princess. Just like that. You know how to take my cock, don’t you?”

Even though the question was rhetorical, only meant to rile you up, you nodded, bouncing faster with purpose, your eyes glued to his, your hands digging into his shoulders as you moved yourself up and down.  

He grabbed you, taking charge and thrusting his hips into you with force and speed, your high the only thing on his mind, his not far in tow.

“Want you to give it to me, darling. Can you do that for me?”

You cursed in response, your eyes shutting as you stopped your movements, leaving Tom to hold you up and buck his hips into you, desperately chasing his own release. You whimpered, your body still sensitive as you stared at him, your jaw dropped open. “Cum for me baby. Please. Wanna––feel you.” 

His gaze darkened and he came not long after, a loud groan escaping him as his thrusts slowed down and eventually stopped. He pulled you down onto his cock, letting you rest on him and you whined, your whole body feeling like a live-wire. 

He ran his hands up and down your back, before sliding down to grab your ass. You arched into his touch and leaned into his chest, purring softly and kissing his neck. When he spoke up you trailed your kiss up to his cheek before pulling back to look at him, your hands on his chest.  

“Next time anyone tries anything like that I’m fucking you in front of them, I don’t care who it is. Then I’m beating them to a bloody pulp.” His grip tightened, “It’ll be the last thing they ever see.” 

Oh there was definitely something wrong with you, because hearing his threat only made you clench around him. But maybe you really were the perfect match for each other, as he said, because as soon as he felt your reaction, he smiled up at you and you knew from the look in his eyes that you wouldn’t be leaving this room any time soon.

[yuyupowers]

aristocrat!seonghwa

aristocrat!seonghwa x fem!reader

genre: fluff

trigger warning(s): patriarchal society mostly. let me know if there’s anything else!

author’s note: none of the pictures are mine!!

for reference, i’m using british peerage (hierarchy). there are five ranks: baron, viscount, earl (count), marquess, and duke - the highest being duke, and the lowest, baron.

second son of a duke

i imagine seonghwa to be someone who values tradition

unlike hongjoong who finds who finds the numerous aristocratic mannerisms pointless, hwa believes upholding these (rather stringent) rules is a sign of respect

perfect gentleman pt.1

excellent in swordsmanship, horse-back riding, and hunting

well versed in poetry, literature, art, and finance

(can maintain a conversation about politics but honestly it kinda goes over his head)

a bit on the shyer side, but a decent conversationalist

good at keeping the flow and mediating in case anyone becomes a little too heated about their opinions

definitely cares about his and his family’s image

naturally caring and tends to dote on those close to him

(translates into excellent manners)

holds the door open, offers his hand when stepping out of carriages, makes sure to walk on the side closest to traffic, diverts conversation when things are too “distressing,” wouldn’t be caught dead alone with a woman that wasn’t related to him or his fiancée/wife

and surprise, surprise !!

this is where you come in

you’re the second oldest daughter, fourth child out of six; born to an earl

hwa’s family had the highest title bestowed upon aristocracy

whereas your family accumulated more wealth and land than the park family

and since both you and hwa were prime marrying age™, your parents decided upon a mutually beneficial marriage

the first time you met seonghwa was under the watchful eye of both your parents, when the park’s invited your family for dinner

tbh, you were pretty relieved when you met him

“prime marrying age” was different for men, so you were just glad he wasn’t some old geezer

and he seemed like a decent person !!

a well put together gentleman, and his image was only consolidated throughout dinner

all in all, you didn’t have much to complain about from the initial impression

though it was kinda annoying when your little sister would not shut up about how he was the handsome man she’s ever met

even if you agreed

and didn’t she say that when she met woo?

anyways

after the first meeting with the park’s, both your parents set up multiple occasions for you two to meet

whether that be evening walks, picnics in the park, etc,,,

you learned a great deal about seonghwa 

how his favourite is black, how he loved the stars and that his favourite planet was mars

how he loved kids and doted on your youngest siblings (much to your sister’s glee)

how he enjoyed spending a quiet afternoon with you reading dickens, discussing afterwards the contrast between carton and darnay

how he was always considerate of your feelings and opinions

you liked to think you were a decent judge of character and thought overall that seonghwa was a kind and caring person

but you also noticed a few characteristics that-

you wouldn’t say it was off-putting or anything but,,,

it might bother you in the future

see, you were pretty good friends with hongjoong

and while you weren’t as extreme,

(you didn’t sneak out weekly to hang out with a bar maiden that you definitely did not have a crush on)

you certainly agreed with him on certain points

like hwa, you thought that abiding by certain mannerisms = display of respect

but unlike him, you didn’t care all that much about your image

okay, that was a lie.

you couldn’t say you didn’t care about your image

(social ostracization isn’t exactly fun ya feel)

but you thought it was,,,exhausting

it’s one thing to be respectful, but it’s another thing to say things you don’t mean

to fake humility

to undermine people that are supposed to be your “friends” or “one of you”

to be perfect, when “perfect” was such a subjective term anyways

it just felt so fake and that left a bitter taste in your mouth

even now, you could see all the efforts seonghwa made to constantly keep his image of a “perfect gentleman”

with perfect mannerisms and perfect answers and perfect-

yeah, it kinda frustrated you

not to mention how obedient he was?

of course you didn’t fault him for being a dutiful and filial son, but his loyalty blinded him

and it wasn’t like his parents were bad people !!

no, you’d say they were much kinder than the average noble family

especially considering their status

but when they made important decisions for their son without consulting him,

(because they were more experienced, because they knew better, etc,,,)

and he accepted whatever decision they handed to him?

well,,,

nevertheless, despite being his fiancée, you, by this point, had realistically had known seonghwa for a couple months

and you didn’t feel like it was your place 

(at least not yet)

to point this out

so the two of you continued your cordial but emotionally distant meetings

that is until “the incident” (as hwa fondly likes to call it)

okay, so-

one day you paid hwa a visit and the two of you decided to take a walk in his family’s garden

chattering about this and that

a lovely time !!

it was a bit overcast, but it didn’t look too threatening

so the two of you ignored the clouds looming in the horizon and wandered deep into the garden

big mistake

the weather took a turn for the worst, and soon it was pouring

by this point seonghwa was a little panicked

he knew that for women, getting ready could be excessively long and tenuous task

(courtesy of his little sister’s complaints)

and now !! you were getting rained on !! because he didn’t bring an umbrella !! just in case !!

!!!!

he turns to you, ready to shield you with his jacket and lead you back to the manor

but he’s at a loss by what he sees

he had expected you to be upset, to huddle closer to him, to,,,idk, maybe reprimand him for this thoughtlessness??

but instead, he finds you staring up at the dark sky, eyes shimmering with barely contained glee with the biggest smile he’s ever seen from you adorning your lips

he likes your smile

and if he was already confused (he was), he was about to become even more so

because the next thing he knows, you’re hiking your dress in one hand and grabbing his in the other, running through puddles of water and mud and everything in between, laughter falling from you like the rain

up until this point, you had been acting like the perfect (you hate that word) lady

polite, demure, charming-

in public settings, you only spoke when spoken to, with a voice that was purposely soft and soothing

you chatted with his mother and sisters about traditionally feminine things over tea with impeccable manners

whenever you two met, you were always prim and proper; never a strand of hair out of place

but here you were, getting not only yours but his clothes soggy and muddy, laughing without a care about how pleasant it sounded or how loud it was

seonghwa liked to think he wasn’t a judgemental person-

he wasn’t repulsed or anything by your sudden change in demeanor

just.

really confused

and when you looked back, you could tell,if his expression was anything to go by

but your grin only grew wider, because you could work with this

he wasn’t enjoying himself per say; a bit too confused and bit too stiff to do so

but he wasn’t horrified or disgusted

okay maybe he was a little grossed out; he liked to be clean thank you very much

you could work with this.

and so over the next few months, you showed him things he never dreamed of doing

some of which he liked, some of which he didn’t

some he was willing to try, some, less

like sneaking into the restricted section of the library (he’s never been so scandalized in his life)

or visiting the kitchen in the middle of the night so you could teach him how to make some basic recipes (which he surprisingly enjoyed)

or meeting hongjoong

(“of COURSE it matters if they got the colour wrong?! lord help me you’re the most insufferable person i’ve ever met-”)

and the more the two of you explored, the more he,,,real he became.

and vice versa.

gradually, the mask of perfection he worked so on hard to maintain was slipping before you

don’t get me wrong, he’s still kind and caring and a gentleman

but sometimes he would whine and complain when you encouraged him to do something he was less than enthusiastic about (usually something that involved getting him messy)

or he made The Face™ (the disgusted one) to you and when he didn’t like something or someone

or he would be stupidly stubborn about some random fact that you KNEW was wrong but he just WOULDN’T admit if even when you showed him proof

(“seonghwa for the last time toads don’t give you war-” “LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU” “eye-”)

once, he even playfully stole the strawberry from your cake

(big mistake. he’s never doing that again. he never knew a woman could move so fast or be so scary.)

it made you so, so happy because the two of you were finally getting to know each other

actually know each other

then one day, while the two of you were reading underneath a tree at the park

“,,,hey love?” (hwa)

“yes?”

“why are we doing this?” 

“what do you mean, dear?”

“i mean,,,i’m not complaining, but i guess,,,why did you decide to show me this part of you? the part that runs around in the rain?” hwa

you don’t reply right away

instead, you shut your book and idly stared at the willow swaying over the pond, wind running its fingers through its drooping leaves

after a few moments of silence

“,,,i wanted to know you and what you believed in. actually believed in.”

seonghwa tilts his head slightly to the side

“love, i hardly think my convictions have changed”

“but do you know what your convictions are?”

and you know when you hear something that resonates with you?

something that strikes deep in your core and makes you rethink everything you’ve know?

yeah,,,this is one of those moments

now it was seonghwa’s turn to set his book aside, falling deep in thought

after an unnaturally long stretch of silence, you began to panic a little

because ?? maybe you misread the situation and got a little too comfortable-

cause i mean you were questioning his core values, which is something he takes very seriously

o god you messed up didn’t you o crap you need to apolog-

“will you help me figure it out?”

“,,,huh??”

“will you help me figure out my convictions?” he asked

and you swear, you’ve never seen such a smile from seonghwa

one that conveyed a plethora of emotions, ranging from honesty and vulnerability, to confusion and loss, to lightness and warmth

it filled you with an unnameable feeling

like something sliding into place, fitting perfectly; like it was always meant to be there, filling you with comfort

shyly intertwining your hands for the first time, you looked up to meet his gaze with a pattering heart and a smile matching his own

“,,,of course.”

[rebeccccccaaa]

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ɴᴇʀᴅ ⓟⓐⓡⓣ ①

______________________

ғʀᴀᴛʙᴏʏ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x sʜʏ-ɪsʜ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀᴜ 

(ɪɴᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ɪ ɢᴜᴇss)

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: (two part series!) You’re starting to struggle in class and decide to ask your professor for some tutoring or extra classes to boost your  grade. He ends up assigning the last person you’d expect to tutor you. (is it really a surprise though?)

ᴡᴀ��ɴɪɴɢs: none in this chapter ;)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟸.𝟸ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅs (sᴏʀʀʏ ɪᴛ’s ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ)

______________________

You stare at your work for what seems like hours before deciding to glance at the clock only to find it’s been 20 mins. This subject was never your strong suit but in order to earn your desired degree, you had to take this class. You’d been putting it off for some time but it’s just better to get it over with then struggle right before graduation. So here you are sitting and staring at the work that just doesn’t seem to make sense. 

By the time your professor released the class for the day, you’d barely even lifted your pen from the table.

“Y/n, could I speak to you for a minute?” your professor said, “James, if you could stay as well.”

“What’s up, professor?” Bucky flashed a cheeky smile. The bastard has always been charming since you saw him and especially taking a couple classes with him too. A huge player too of course. I mean what’s a frat boy without getting laid after every party they throw.

“Lemme speak to you first,” he gestured to you, “how is the assignment going?”

You were a bit embarrassed to admit that you were struggling a lot especially in front of Bucky. He’s actually a pretty nice person but not really being a super social one yourself, he tends to intimidate you along with the rest of his friends more than you’d like to admit.

“Well if I’m being honest, I can’t seem to grasp onto the material. I’m really trying but I just can’t,” you practically whispered.

You didn’t want to but you took a quick glance at Bucky to see what he was probably thinking but thankfully he was on his phone; probably giving you as much privacy as he could. 

“Well is there anything you like me to do to help in understanding the material? Maybe a tutor?”

“Yes, that would probably be beneficial,” you chuckled.

“Perfect, because James here is one the best students I’ve had,” ok kinda backhanded. 

Bucky’s head shot up when he heard his name and quickly put his phone away averted his attention to the professor. 

“Right James?”

“Hmm?” 

“James here has a  97% in the class. He’s got the highest grade of all my classes,” the professor seemed like a proud father to him. Bucky merely just shook his head, getting really shy almost. Bucky, shy? Weird. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” he murmured.

“Nope, 100% true. Your teachers and I talk a lot about you. You’re very gifted, James,” James looked at you completely embarrassed. You stood with wide eyes because you didn’t think frat boys actually took their studies seriously. They’re usually up late with all the parties they throw every weekend and some of them are so indulged into their sports that they probably didn’t have time to get A’s in their classes. 

“So what do you say, Y/n? Willing to let him tutor you?”

“I mean if he has time and wants to, I’d be very appreciative of it.”

“Yeah I guess I can,” he smiled.

“Thank you, and thank you too, Professor.”

“Looking forward to that assignment, Y/n. Now scram, kids.”

“Hey thanks for-”

“You can’t tell anyone that I'm tutoring you,” he cut you off, not in a mean way, just panicked.

“Oh ok.”

“I mean it. Look it was already hard getting into the frat house and now being head of house, it’ll be embarrassing if they found out I’m a nerd.”

“What’s so bad about being a nerd?”

“I don’t know. It’s like an unspoken rule I guess.”

“What a nerd,” you joked.

“Whatever,” he chuckled, “So your place or mine?” 

“Huh?” you questioned.

“For tutoring? Do you want me to come over?”

“Oh I thought we would do that in the library or something,” you responded.

“I mean we can, I just didn’t know what time and the library closes pretty early.”

“You can come over. I’ll ask my roommate if it’s ok.”

“Ok, let me get your number so we can coordinate.”

“Ok, thanks again, Tom.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he smiled back.

+++

“Girl what are you getting yourself into?” your roommate, Natasha questioned.

“What do you mean?” 

“Buck is gonna tutor you? I’m pretty sure he knows jack shit about what is going on in that class.” Right, no one knows he’s practically a genius. 

“I don’t know. My professor said he could help me so I’m gonna give it a shot. He can’t stupider than me, especially with this subject.”

“Ok,” she mocked.

“But if he tries anything let me know,” she warned.

“Why would he try anything?” you asked, confused about the sudden subject change. 

“Y/n, Bucky is a huge player. He’s hooked up with like more than half the girls in the sorority houses. Hell, even I hooked up with him.”

“Oh my god, what!”

“It was last year when I was in a house. I hated it so I moved out this year. Still friends with Wanda though. You’d like her.”

“Ok well I don’t think he will, I mean look at me.”

“What?”

You hesitated because you weren’t the most confident person. There was nothing wrong with you but there also wasn’t anything special. You were barely a social person let alone some who could easily pursue a relationship or even a hook up. 

“I think you’re hot, but something tells me you think otherwise,” Nat said.

“I don’t wanna get into it but just know you won’t have to worry about anything happening.”

You texted Bucky that he could come over whenever he was available and about 30 mins later he was knocking on your door ready to help you with the assignment.

+++

Obviously nothing happened that night, or the night after, or the night after. Or the next four weeks after. Bucky was actually helping you understand the material a lot better. You were still a bit confused but not as much as before. During your sessions you were beginning to learn a lot more things about Bucky like how his childhood best friend Steve Rogers was also a member in the house; and also knows about his prodigy brain. 

“How’s the tutoring going?” Steve asked walking into the kitchen where you and Bucky were doing work.  

“Good I guess,” you responded.

“Well I’ll uh, leave you two be.”

He didn’t in fact  leave but instead start gesturing quite aggressively to ask you more questions to get to know you better. See what you didn’t know was that Bucky had taken even more of a liking to you since starting  your study sessions together. He never pursued anything because he didn’t want to scare you and definitely didn’t want you to think that he was taking advantage of the situation you guys were in; you know being your tutor and all.

Sure Bucky was kind of  a player but the rumors of sleeping with another girl at every party every weekend wasn’t totally true. He hooked up with a couple girls but he wasn’t a sex addict. And he definitely didn’t leave them high and dry. He would usually meet up with the girls but they didn’t seem to want anything more than a one night stand. 

He sort of gave up on finding a relationship and soon after altogether stopped having sex, especially at their parties the boys host every weekend. He definitely wasn’t waiting until marriage but he didn’t want to feel used anymore because that was seemingly the case after each ‘hook-up’ that happened. 

When Bucky first saw you in class, he truly thought you the most beautiful girl ever. He quickly caught on to the fact that you were not a social person; you weren’t exactly shy but definitely didn’t initiate conversation. You always kept to yourself in the back of each classroom and quietly did your work. Bucky goddamn fell head over heels for you. 

But you two never talked.

Every chance he got to initiate some sort of conversation was quickly taken away whether it’d be the end of class time where you’d briskly leave the classroom to attend your next lecture, or the boys in his house would meet up with him completely interfering with his window to talk to you. And it’s not like you ever went to any of the frat parties. 

So he continued to chase you all the while having absolutely no idea one of the most well known and well liked frat boys at the university having this massive giant enormous fat crush on you. And to top it off, now that he’s certainly got all the time in the world to finally get to know you, he freezes up and can only seem to answer your questions… about school.

You didn’t take Bucky to be such an awkward guy. You definitely didn’t think with all the girls that are constantly after him and how charismatic he seemed he would actually be super quiet awkward after the initial ‘Hey, what’s up!’.

You grew a liking to him though because he wasn’t annoying. The majority of guys in the house were pretty loud and obnoxious whenever you got the chance to hear them usually while you were studying in Bucky’s room because again, no one really knew how much of a nerd he really was. But you never actually met the rest of the boys. You’d always managed to sneak out to avoid confrontation about why you're even there. 

Speaking of loud and obnoxious frat boys.

“Hey hey hey!” they walked in.

Immediately you and Bucky grabbed all the papers and threw them in your backpack while Steve went out to hopefully stall the boys from coming into the kitchen like they always did after football practice. 

As soon as the last paper went inside your bag, the boys walked past Steve into the kitchen to find you and Bucky standing there awkwardly.

“Who’s this?” Tony asked.

“This is a girl in my class, Y/n.”

“Whatcha doing here?”

“She’s tutoring me,” Bucky quickly lied. Ironically. 

“Oh man, dude,” one of the boys laughed.

“Well we’ll be out of your hair. Good luck, Bucky and don’t annoy her.”

“We’ll be in my room studying you guys are fine,” Bucky grabbed your arm and took upstairs to his room.

“So they’re fine with you being tutored but not tutoring?” you asked in a mocking tone.

“It’s a weird rule but also a lot of the guys downstairs get tutored too. Like Vis, and Thor, oh Thor. Loki does too and Steve. But if I’m being honest, I  do in fact think Bruce and Tony are science nerds. But Tony sleeps around enough to distract from it, not Bruce so much but he’s pretty quiet.”

“Ugh, boys.”

“Anyways, shall we continue?” he chuckled.

“I guess, yeah.”

After about an hour in his room, you ended up leaning out of studying and more into talking and getting to know each other; properly this time. 

“And yeah, that’s how my sister’s pants exploded.”

“That’s hilarious.”

There was a moment of silence between you two before it got too awkward and you spoke out.

“I should probably get going.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“I can call a cab. It’s fi-”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted, “I’ll drive you. It’s not a big deal.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yeah. It’s totally fine.”

You told Bucky your address to your apartment and remained in silence during the majority of the car ride.

“You know I never striked you as a quiet person,” you broke the silence.

“What? I’m not a quiet person.”

“Yes you are. Everytime we have a study session it’s usually silent until I have to ask you a question about something.”

“Well, it’s not my intention to be so awkward around you.”

“Why are you?” you asked him.

“I don’t know,” then it got quiet again.

You arrived at your apartment and unclicked your seatbelt. You turned to Bucky to say goodbye and realized how close you two were. Admittedly you didn’t mind too much; what you didn’t expect was for Bucky to in fact kiss you. He grabbed your arm gently and pulled closer to him as his eyes closed, lips moving against yours slowly. You weren’t exactly mad but you weren’t also happy with this outcome. 

Despite Bucky not hooking up with anyone for a long time now and being completely enamored by you, you still believe he was a ladies man because he hadn’t told you otherwise. You didn’t want to be another name added to the list of a frat boy’s one night stands. So you pulled away with slightly furrowed brows and Bucky realized he fucked up. 

“Thanks again, Bucky,” you quickly got out of the car, not acknowledging him shouting your name before the car door closed. You ran up the steps to enter your apartment as fast as you can, still feeling the taste of him on your lips and tongue. God why did he have to do that?

Bucky sat in his car for a bit but decided to leave to not bother you and possibly fuck things up more than they already are. He’ll wait for you to come to him so he doesn’t seem invasive. Yeah that’s the plan.

But things don’t normally go to plan right?

[thanakite]

My parents are like literally always trying to get me to give up on getting a diagnosis, they don’t think it will actually do anything beneficial and think that I need to just figure out how to live and have a job despite the constant pain I’m in (Which is technically true to an extent, as I do need to figure out how to live with it because it isn’t going away, but they mean it in a “we don’t believe that you are actually in as much pain as you say you are and you need to just get over it” kind of way)

They don’t seem to get that, that is exactly what the medical industry and the United States government want me to do

They don’t want me to get an actual, helpful, accurate diagnosis because then the doctors will actually have to do something to try and help or admit that they can’t (Instead of tossing me from one to the next saying that they will have the answers instead, when the reality is that none of them want to admit there is nothing they can do to help and I am like this for the rest of my life) and the US government definitely doesn’t want that because then they will likely have to admit that I need support and provide it to me (Despite the fact that providing that support is supposed to be what they do in cases like mine and that doing so is barely a drop in the bucket of how much money they have moving around all the time)

The systems in place want me to give up, because if I do, even though it won’t do anything but make it likely even more difficult for me to provide any actual form of contribution, then they don’t have to do shit and that is their preference, the system is designed to make people give up before attaining the support they need and if you do give up, they win

Full stop, they WIN

Like they are already going to be partially winning if I get the support I need because it would even out to likely less of a drain on resources than if I end up homeless and still dealing with this bullshit, but they would rather have nothing to do with me and be able to blame the resource drain of homelessness on the homeless rather than the systemic issues that cause homelessness that would have less problems and shell out less money long term if they just actually helped the people who needed support

I can’t give up because then the fucked up systems win and I get nothing, whereas if I keep trying I may very well get at least some support, which is still better than nothing

[librarianandguardian]

Just a feeling- Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Pairing : Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Word Count : ~2300

Warnings : Fluff, brief mention of drug use and burns

Music : Un homme - Jérémy Frerot

Author’s note : Getting pretty stressed because of a huge project at school, so I wrote this to blow off some steam ! I also wanted to say that I do not agree with the way some characters are written and treated in this show. I hope I did not perpetuate these errors, and that I got Silva’s personality a bit right at least. Feedback is appreciated, may it be on the story telling or even the grammar. English isn’t my first language. Flahs-backs in italics. Enjoy ! :D

GIF ‘s not mine, and I can’t find the creator.

French First World songs resonate in the Great Hall, she is dancing. Wild and free. Her loosened hairs fly through the wind. She has traded her Specialist armour for a long flowing dress. Her feet are hammering the ground in rhythm. The crowd carries her all over the dancefloor; she twirls and claps her hands following the music.

From an ignored fairy bloodline, her parents considered her a Specialist Legacy. When her mind fairies powers woke up, everything went wrong ; she was always an overwhelmed child. No one could help her everytime she lost control. Nothing but medication: earrings to contain, and pills to attenuate. It wasn't bad. She lived like that her entire life.

Silva is sitting on a plastic chair, leaning on the table by his side, his gaze lingering. She is an exceptional fighter; dance must be a piece of cake and fun judging from her large smile. To be fair, he barely remembered her from their time at Alfea. Farah told him she was three years younger than him and seemed to have a few memories.

« (Y/N) travelled a lot to the First World prior to college. Her parents were emissaries and brought back souvenirs. Rumours said that her room resembled a cave of wonders.

-Ever went there ?»

His friend chuckled.

« Once. It was full of trinkets, books, movies, postal cards too. Ben caught interest in it, especially the giant botanic encyclopaedia throning on her bookshelf. We both agreed after a while that she might be the ray of sunshine of her Specialist promotion. But I guess she was discreet, if you've never heard of her.»

It took some memory searching, but he indeed remembered one thing. A conversation between a bunch of 1st years talking about a secret party displaying famous First World movies. A few hours later, on the training field, (Y/N) battled fiercely. It caught the attention of many students, who gathered around the platform. Curiosity taking the best of him, he had followed the crowd.

« What's that First World song that I love to describe you with ?

-By the light Clairo, is it really necessary ? »

Her opponent mocked her. She rolled her eyes, wielding her sword before choosing her fight stance.

« You son of... Maneater from Nelly Furtado. Now let's fight please.

-Alright doll, eat me up. »

(Y/N) huffed in annoyance. Clairo was a good fighter, but a little bit too flirty. He launched himself at her. The young woman stayed incredibly calm. Dodging to the right, she left him to stumble before hitting his back with the wooden weapon. He fell to the ground with a grunt. A shy smile spread on her features.

Now that he thinks about it, her earring had intrigued him : an ear chain hanging from the top of the cartilage of her ear to her lobe. Each end was composed of a lavendish round lilac crystal. When she lost control recently, those crystals lit up with a blinding light and burned her skin.

« I change the earring every five year. Every year If any several big crises occurred.

-What about your burns ? How did they clean them up ? »

Her left hand ghosted over her intact lobe, while Harvey healed the bruised flesh. Her eyes stared at the floor of the greenhouse. Saul was holding her other hand.

« They... I stuffed myself with pills. Sometimes enough to sleep through an entire day. Within the Solarian force, it was the only way for them to treat me. None of their mind fairies could calm me down. I don't think you realize how much this, she lifted her intertwined hand, helps.»

The soldier chuckles at the memory. His eyes examined his fingers, remembering how she locked hers, as she found an anchor in his mind.

« My best guess ? Your training forged your head to have a certain mindset in crisis.

-Loads of Solarian troupers could have given you that.

-Yeah. I can't really explain it, she laughed shyly, maybe because you're a teacher, that two of your long time friends are fairies or just because you're good with people.»

Their gazes crossed. The air thickened. Truth to be told, (Y/N) was so lost upon why he managed to calm her down. Farah tried to guide her, but even then, nothing positive came out. Her youth as a student at Alfea only consisted in shared side glances with him in hallways. She sure as hell found the man attractive, but she had other stuff to think about.

A loud giggle snaps him back to reality. (Y/N) falls on his laps while trying to take off her high heels. Her eyes are opened wide and a little glassy. She's definitely drunk.

« Oh by the light, I'm sorry Silva. Aimed at the table ! »

The atmosphere becomes lighter. He catches her when she nearly trips off by trying to get up, one of his arms snaking around to help. Steadying herself on his laps, she catches her breath slowly, though some giggles erupt as she looks around.

« How can you still dance, uh ?»

With a guilty smile, she leans slightly against the table.

« Alcohol ! It's the only thing keeping me up, baby !»

Instant regret shoots through her veins. Some red creeps up on her cheeks, as her hands cover her mouth. The soldier chuckles, enamoured by her adorableness. One thing that strucked him when they met was her lightness. Out of all the solarian troupers out there, or even all the specialists he ever crossed paths with, she was one of the few who stayed so bright and playful. Subconsciously, his fingers dig slightly in her hips.

« It's alright, (Y/L/N).»

She giggles a bit, but thanks him. Farah watches from a far, joined by Ben. (Y/N)(Y/L/N) has been teaching at Alfea for a year now. The entire school seemed to have transformed into a much more joyous place : students got along better, the shyest opened a tad and the roughest softened. Ben's daughter Terra found a supporter of her personal projects and a confidant. Ben himself benefited from her return. Mostly in books and knowledge but that meant already so much to him. Farah gained a daughter ; (Y/N)'s powers were a mess for her advanced age, helping felt natural. But what she loved the most was how confused Saul got with the new Specialist. Their bond strengthened with time, however the first few days rocked the Headmaster all over the place.

«(Y/L/N), what did you do to our office ? Did you... Are these books classified by alphabetic order and colour ?! »

His colleague shrugged, trying to see if he was mad or just surprised. It happened a few days after her arrival. Their shared office went under few renovations.

« (Y/L/N), why dancing classes ? »

She shot up, put her hands on his desk and took twenty minutes to explain how it would make their movements more flexible, strengthen teamwork and be a tool for future mission on the job. Astonished could not describe Silva's feeling.

An admirable change that proved beneficial to the students. These two grew very fond of each other. A lot more than they thought. Words in the hallways started to spread about their growing fondness.

« Okay, I got a question for you, soldier boy.»

Saul tilted his head to the side.

« Are you having fun ?

-Of course I am.»

(Y/N) looks disappointed. Turning around, she pours some water in her cup and chugs it down.

« Really ? 'Cause the only thing I've seen you do is sit in a corner all night. »

He lowers his head, searching for the right words. How does he say that he just loves watching her run around the dancefloor ? How she bounds with students but also keeps their respect ? The fact that she's so organised that she could plan a First World themed party and keep her teacher skills to their best ? The shortest way for that would be admitting his feelings. He zones out long enough for her to talk again.

« It's okay. »

His eyes lock with hers. How did she sober up so quickly ?

« I know you have a reputation as a serious and frowny teacher to keep. And this is a graduation party, so. »

Never mind, she did not. The woman gets up, only to kneel under the tablecloth. He panics briefly.

« (Y/N), what on Earth are you doing ?»

She mumbles before appearing back outside. Her hands are holding a package. Another bright smile shines on her face. Silva knows what's coming, and he has mixed feelings about it; between fear, excitement and confusion.

« Happy Birthday Saul. »

His heart nearly stops. Few people know about his birthday, she is now a part of them. He frankly does not mind, even wished for it for a while now. His hands gently take the package to open it. Before his eyes lies a hard covered sketchbook and a wooden box full of high-quality pencils. The cover has a crow flying in a pearly sky with a red sun. The box is made of ebony and his name carved in silver. She knows an another of his secret. He tears up. The woman worries when he starts to sniffle. Much to her surprise, the soldier puts the gifts on the table before hugging her with all his might. Thank God the students are dancing or already out of the hall to smoke. (Y/N) answers his embrace, reassured.

« Thank you so much dear. »

It's her turn to have glossy eyes. She buries her face in his shoulder. This man is constantly under pressure and she has always wondered what he does during his free time : Does he train more ? He probably reads, right ? The answer came on a regular afternoon.

Silva knocked on her quarters' door. He heard shuffling before (Y/N) opened. She was wearing a bathrobe and a towel around her hair.

« Hi Saul ! Sorry hum. I woke up late and did not expect you so soon so, hum. »

The woman looked around, making her towel fall. Picking it up, she invited him in. He indulged, though a bit surprised.

« I'll be back in a jiffy, you know, putting some clothes on and all. Okay.»

She disappeared in her bathroom, leaving him to explore her room. Many watercolour paintings covered the walls, some abstract and others from the Realms of the Otherworld. However, a few landscapes felt unknown to him. On her desk lied sketches with a horde of different pencils. He discovered portraits of Farah, Ben, Terra, Sky, Riven and finally him. The lines were thin, some shadows sharp for the warriors and smoother for the fairies. A hint of jealousy took over him, quickly brushed away by shyness. The fact that she took the time to draw him was flattering. His fingers grazed over the pencils, wondering if he had time to prepare a little surprise. He puts down the file he came to discuss. A few minutes later, (Y/N) came out, dressed but her hair still wet on the edges. Silva was leaning against her desk, file in hand, a small smile on his features. She mirrored it before asking about the important matter at hand. Twenty minutes later, he left. Her eye caught a change in her drawing material : the portrait of Farah and Ben switched positions. She shuffled them, making sure everything was here, only to find an unknown piece. A cute fox was smiling, a little bubble under him stating :

« Nice Work (Y/L/N). Nice pencils too. Wish I had your talent.»

That last sentence made her wonder if he indeed had an artistic side. Needless to say that his quarters gave her answer. Same reason as his when he came, she knocked on his door one night. Though he did not fully invite her in, her eyes caught glimpses of nice sketches lying on a table, some rudimental equipment next to it.

They stay like this for a few seconds. The headmistress and Professor Harvey look at each other. No words, no need. Terra is chatting with a second year in a corner, bur her eyes catch them. She smiles, looking away shyly, but happy Sky sees the scene too, thanks to Riven who taps on his shoulder. They can't help the smile growing on their faces. Sky's father figure finding support is definitely going to be one of the highlights of their first year. (Y/N) and Saul part. One of her hands pats his arm.

« Wanna dance ? »

He closes his eyes, sighing. There is no lack of desire but the fear of what the students will say.

« I wish but... I don't know.

-I get it. But one day, you will ! That's a promise. »

With one last smile, she strolls back to the dancefloor, leaving him sheepish. He takes the sketchbook and a pencil. He might not dance tonight, but he'll make up to it.

[moontheoretist]

When she and Tony Stark meet it is very clear that he was not expecting her there, “Jesus Christ, who the hell are you?” he asks, hand pressed to the space over his heart. His right arm is in a sling and that does not look good. “Is there something wrong with your arm?” she asks. It did not appear to be in a cast and she saw no bruising. His breathing was restricted though and that did not bode well either. She narrows her eyes at the thought of someone harming her King’s soul mate but she blinks, letting the anger go. Now was not the time or place. “None of your business, and you are?” he snaps, glaring at her suspiciously. “Dora Milaje,” she responds vaguely, “and I am here on the behalf of King T’Challa.” “T’Challa can fuck off,” Tony snarls viciously and her eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me,” she says in a dangerous tone. Soul mate or not she would not allow him to insult her King. “Anyone who is involved with Steve Rogers is no use to me,” he snaps. Her eyebrows remain raised, “I understand that Steve Rogers has caused you pain, but I do not understand how that extends to King T’Challa,” she says calmly. Perhaps too calmly but Stark either does not understand the danger or he does not care. Stark rolls his eyes, “I’ve spent the last five years dealing with people who blindly follow Steve Rogers around like a bunch of fucking lap dogs, I don’t need to have one more person tell me that I can never compare. I know that. No need to have anyone else remind me,” he says bitterly, his lip curling up in disgust. That changed things. “I here because the King is not sure what to believe about you. He and the Dora Milaje agree that the information about you is too conflicting to draw a reasonable conclusion. So I am here to try and find the truth, to see what you’re really like. I must admit that I do not like you,” she says honestly. Perhaps the man would take the honesty well. He does not, instead he flinches hard but the expression is gone very quickly. “Great, then you’re just like everyone else. Go report back to your king, tell him I’m as worthless as everyone says I am,” Tony says, turning and walking towards his kitchen. “I do not like many people, that does not mean that you are not a good person. And my personal opinion of you means little when you are not meant for me,” she says. Tony’s shoulders tense at that but he turns slowly to face her. “What do you want to know?” He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in days and she supposes that it is very likely that he has not. The man had chronic insomnia and she suspected it made his very obvious PTSD worse. The dismissals from everyone else around him, including his closest friends, probably did not help the situation. “Why did you support the Accords?” she asks bluntly. Cutting to the heart of the issue was what she was good at, and it saved her time and effort beating around the bush. “Steve told me that I needed to trust people, to listen to them. He was right, so when the opportunity came to listen I did, or at least I tired but apparently that wasn’t right either,” he snaps bitterly, that disgusted look back on his face. “You feel guilty for Ultron,” she says and it is not a question. He flinches at the bot’s name, he certainly felt guilty for being the creator of such chaos. “Of course I do, who the fuck wouldn’t? I nearly ended the world when I ran that program and I should have said something to someone,” he says. She finds that curious, his anger at Steve and his acceptance that Steve was right in his conclusions about his communication skills or lack thereof. “But you did talk to someone, Dr. Banner. I know that he is currently missing but surely you count your communication with him as something,” she says. Banner appeared to be the only Avenger who was not adverse to Tony. The two bonded over science and Tony’s lack of fear of him. “Lot of good that did,” Tony mumbles. “But you spoke to him and he agreed that it was a good enough idea to try,” she says. “So what if I did? Everyone blamed me for it anyways, might as well take the blame. Bruce said it could go wrong and I didn’t listen, I should have.” He leans against the counter and sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just because your team blamed only you does not mean it was fair. It is not like they are lacking in recklessness and stupidity themselves. What kind of moron releases a brainwashed assassin onto the world? Steve Rogers is very lucky that seems to have had no consequences. And his taking the word of Bucky Barnes as proof of five other Winter Soldiers was not wise either, the man hardly knows what is real and what is not, he is still partially under the control of HYDRA conditioning. Only a fool would take the man’s word at face value. I believe that your holding off until you found real proof of the Winter Soldiers’ existence made you the most intelligent and clear headed of the group, at least in that moment. The rest of the team has far too much faith in a man who is living in nostalgia. Bucky Barnes does not, nor will he ever, exist again as Rogers knew him. He should accept that,” she says bluntly. It was a harsh truth, yes, but a man would never be the same after a trauma like that. Rogers himself was more than likely not the same man he used to be so he should not expect Bucky to be. He should also accept the reality of that trauma on his friend because living in his memories was not going to help Bucky Barnes. Accepting reality, no matter how harsh, was the only way to help Barnes heal from his wounds. It would not be easy for anyone but it was the most beneficial. “You… think I’m the smartest and most clear headed of the group?” Tony asks, looking beyond shocked. “In that moment, yes. You are not without your mistakes but that was not one of them. Tell me more about why you chose to support the Accords,” she says. This time Tony pauses for a long time and she lets him gather himself. It was important to make an accurate judgment. Finally Tony looks up, “Steve was right about listening to people. Sometimes I go too fast and I don’t think things through right, I’ve done it time and time again, even when I was supporting the Accords. I’ll make a snap decision that looks good at the time but I don’t talk to the people I’m supposed to be helping, I just make a decision and assume it’s for the best when it isn’t. I had one hundred and seventeen countries telling me to slow down and stop and I didn’t think that was something I should ignore. They weren’t making unreasonable requests, they just wanted a say in how we ran things and you can’t help people if you aren’t willing to listen to what they need you to do. I’ve learned that now,” he says. “Rogers thinks the best hands are still your own, you do not agree?” she asks, curious. Tony rolls his eyes, “no, he thinks the best hands are still his own, not our own regardless of what he says. You saw what happened when someone said no, it didn’t line up with his beliefs and instead of reaching out and asking to change things, or asking why things looked the way thy did he threw the whole damn thing out. Besides, if we’re talking histories here I have a near one hundred percent fail rate. The best hands aren’t my own so I thought maybe if I had someone else vetting my decisions they might be better but if that person isn’t Steve Rogers Steve doesn’t think it’s good enough.” Harsh words, but they were mostly true. She, too, found the Captain too rigid in his values. “And the agendas he spoke of?” she asks. He was not wrong for being suspicious of the government. They were corrupt, as near all systems were outside of Wakanda and even there they had their issues. At this Tony looks down, “I put too much faith in a system I know doesn’t really work that well. But we aren’t apolitical people, we know what the UN’s agendas were, they were clearly written on paper and we could have worked with that, used it to our advantage. But the fuck if I know what their agendas are. Natasha flip-flops more than a fucking fish out of water, so does Clint, I have no idea what Wanda’s thinking, you already know what I think of Steve, and Sam… well he’s an alright guy. I think he’s an idiot for following Steve around like a lost bird but he’s a good man. I know I made mistakes but that bullshit letter Steve sent me proves he doesn’t care.” She did not read the letter so she is unsure what he is talking about, “would you care to explain?” she asks, trying to be gentle. The man was raw, in pain, and it was bound to end badly for him. She was sure she had her answers but she was curious about the letter and more information would not hurt. “Oh he’s glad I’m back on the compound, obviously I moved back out, but he doesn’t like to think of me being alone because the Avengers were more mine than his. Pretty sure the fact that they’ve all always hated me minus maybe Bruce indicates that that’s a bunch of shit but whatever. And he has faith in people, in individuals? Really? Because I didn’t see any of that faith when people, individuals, were reaching out to us to talk to them and he slapped them down because what they wanted wasn’t what he wanted. And he’s never had faith in me. Never. I find it really hard to accept that he gives a damn about hurting my feelings, especially when he’s always assumed that I didn’t have any. And his stupid ‘I wish we agreed on the Accords but we didn’t so fuck you’ at the end was a real nice touch. He might as well have wrote ‘lol everything before this was a joke because I don’t really care what you think was right, it wasn’t what I think is right so you’re wrong’. At least we can both agree that he was a selfish prick keeping my parents’ deaths to himself,” he mumbles. So Tony Stark fell somewhere in between his public image and someone she did not know. He was clearly emotional, in pain, and that was not going to go well for him but he was not a bad person. He was not what the Avengers thought he was either. “You’re parents’ deaths?” she asks. “Yeah, I mean I can’t keep secrets or so he reminded me about a million times with that Ultron bullshit, but he can keep the fact that Barnes killed my parents to himself. Guess all the shit I do is totally fine if he does the same damn thing. I don’t listen and accidentally create Ultron I’m a problem, and that’s fair, but he can ignore the whole fucking world and that’s totally A-Okay with him. I can’t keep secrets, but it’s fine if he does. I can’t be suspicious of government structures without being labeled ‘insubordinate’ and ‘arrogant’ but when he does it it’s fine!”

The Truth Never Set Me Free (I Did It Myself) by TenSpencerRiedPlease

[frisianwrites]

Listen-

Chapter 1. 

Tw for this chapter: Angst, fluff. SoftDom!Chan but also HardDom!Chan. D/s dynamic, language, hair pulling, manhandling, mention of bad selfcare, spanking, bruises.Mentions of subspace, rope bondage. Mention of y/n being self-conscious about her body. Breath play/choking.

You have lost track of time again, and didn't notice the shadows in your work space getting longer. When you hear the front door unlocking you startle into action, eager to see Chan, but also apprehensive because there are some things you should have done today but didn't do..

“You're home! I missed you so much” you yell, running towards him and jumping into his embrace, a move you two have perfectly synchronized over time, you clinging to him like a koala, his arms supporting your thighs easily. “Hey there baby, did you have a good day?” he asks. “Uhuh”, you nod. “I almost finished two projects today!”, you proudly add. “Two? Show me, little one”. You make a move to get out of his embrace but Chan just holds you tighter and walks to your workspace with you in his arms. He looks over your desk, appraising the two difficult projects you were working on. “Very well done sweety, but this was a lot of work. Did you take breaks like I told you to?”. You wriggle a bit in his grasp, uneasy. “Y-yes? Sort of?”, you answer, avoiding looking into his eyes. He's having none of it though, setting you down on your desk and firmly taking your chin to make you look up at him. “That's not an answer. Did you or didn't you take breaks?” he repeats, a sternness lacing his voice. “I did take a break”, you mumble. “One break? Did you eat?” he continues. Your answer is silence, not wanting to confess you worked all day with just one break, a grilled cheese and some water. Chan leaves you on the desk and makes his way to the kitchen. You are dreading the moment he opens the refrigerator and...”Y/N! Why is your food still here?” 

Oh no. He's raising his voice. Not good. Still not answering, you shift awkwardly on your desk when you hear him coming back to your workspace. You swallow hard when Chan appears in the doorway. His eyes are a shade or two darker, his face in a disapproving frown. “Look at me, and fucking answer”, he says through clenched teeth. “I forgot. But I made a grilled cheese and...” your voice gets cut off when he's with you in seconds and wraps his hand around your throat. Clinching a fist in your hair, he drags you off the desk, your knees making harsh contact with the floor. You whimper at the sudden change in his demeanor.

It's been a while since you needed a harder approach, you were inherently good, happily living within the borders set by, at first, the both of you, and later only by him. You knew the rules Chan set out for you were beneficial to you, keeping you healthy and happy, and you rarely needed to be reminded of them. Chan has a preference for soft guidance over hard punishment, but looking into his eyes, you know you won't be getting his soft side now. “You skipped a meal last week as well. AND you went to bed at 4 AM last monday. I didn't punish you then, hoping some stern words were enough, but you clearly need a reminder of why it is in your best interest to follow my rules.”

Your breath hitches as you hear his voice getting deeper, any trace of softness quickly disappearing. “Strip”. The single command sends a jolt through your body and you quickly scramble to get up, only to be janked back by your hair. “Did I say you can get up?” he seethes, and you shake your head. “Words, y/n”, “No, no Chan”, you mumble. “Stay on the floor and strip. Now.” You hurriedly pull off your  sweats and cotton shirt, leaving you in only your panties. Chan's hand finds your hair again, pulling your head backwards. He leans in from above, filling your entire view. “What part of 'strip' did you not understand, girl? Take. Them. Off.” You wriggle them off as best as you can with his hand still lodged in your hair, pulling at the roots painfully. You have no time to wonder what's next when he lifts you up by your hair until you're standing up. “To your desk, y/n. Face down, ass up”. “But..” you protest. “So now you're breaking the rules AND talking back to me? You definitely need some behaviour adjustment, brat.” Using the grip on your hair to pull you down to the desk, his other arm reaches around your stomach to pull your hips out. Your face lands on the desk, his hand on the side of it to keep you from getting up. You're facing away from him but you don't need to see him to know he's thoroughly pissed off. “So...you want to tell me why you think not taking care of yourself is allowed? Why skipping meals and sleep is okay?” he runs his fingers along your spine until they land on your ass. “I...I didn't mean to, I just forgot”, you stutter. You yelp as his hand lands hard on your ass twice. “You forgot. That's not an aswer”, he lands two more hits, not holding back in the slightest. “I'll make sure you'll remember for weeks” he nearly spits the words in anger. “Now fucking count”, and he proceeds to hit your ass again and again until you reach 25, leaving you a panting, crying mess, your ass sore and bruised and your legs shaking against the desk. He pulls you up, your back against his front, one arm around your waist, supporting you. His other hand slips around your throat holding you in place until you've calmed down some. He walks you towards the couch in the living room and pulls you into his lap, facing him. “How can you forget to take care of something that's mine? To take care of something that is so important to me?” His voice is soft, his eyes searching yours. Your eyes tear up again at the realization that he's right. “I'm s-sorry...” you hiccup around the lump in your throat. He pulls you into a full embrace, “Shh, I know you don't do this on purpose y/n, but you really need to look after yourself, especially when I am not here, you understand?” You feel his voice reverberating against your ear from where you're nestled into the crook of his neck. “I'll do better, I promise”, you whisper. The two of you just stay quiet for a moment, enjoying each other's closeness. Then your stomach rumbles audibly and you both laugh. ‘Come on little one, let's get some food in you, up you go” You squeek when he pats your ass a little harder than is necessary, which reminds you that you'll probably have difficulty sitting for a few days.

“Why were you staying up that late y/n?” Chan asks while you're both clearing the table after dinner and start doing the dishes. “I don't know, I guess I wasn't tired enough to stop working and go to bed”, you answer. You feel his hands enclosing your waist and his breath tickles your ear when he breathes “not tired enough huh? I bet we can change that real fast”. For the umpteenth time that day you swallow hard. “T-that's okay, I think I can sleep fine tonight”. “You bet you will, little slut”. The choice of words sends heat flushing your abdomen and your breathing speeds up. Chan cards his fingers through your hair before yanking your head back against his shoulder. “You didn't think I was done after a few spanks did you?”. His smile does not match with the dark tone of his voice and it has you shivering involuntarily. He releases you after a final pull on your hair. “Go, take a shower and when you're done I want you kneeling on the rug.” “What about the dis...” you get cut off by his hand on your face, painfully squeezing your cheeks, making your lips part. “Don't. Talk. Back. To me.” he intones. “Shower. Now.” The look in his eyes has you running to the bathroom.

While showering you can't help but again feel both a bit nervous and aroused at the same time. The prospect of Chan dominating you has your head spinning but you know there will be some challenges as well. It puts your head in a daze, mind growing a bit foggy as you easily slip further into your submissive headspace. So much so that when Chan suddenly opens the door you jump with a cry which in turn has him laughing. “What's wrong little one? Did I catch you doing something...inappropriate hmm?” “N-no”, you stammer. “Good. Now, off you go.” You pad to the bedroom to finish your routine before making your way to the plush rug on the living room floor. You sit down on your heels, head getting fuzzy again. Staring dreamily into nothing you don't even notice the soft footfalls coming your way until you feel a hand on your head. “How are you feeling little one? Chan asks softly. “Good, Chan”, you smile and lean into his touch. “Good. Stand up for me”. You're swaying on your feet a little while he pulls out the large wooden chest from underneath the couch that contains your gear. Having gathered an armful of rope he returns, dropping the coils. You sigh as you feel the first touch of rope against your skin. Chan easily manipulates your body into the positions he needs, your limbs letting themselves be bent or released as if they have lost the ability to move on their own. You don't pay attention to the position he maneuvers you in until you notice Chan pushing your legs apart. You're on your back in a full rope harness, hands bound in front of you. Your legs are tied calf to thigh and he's is now rigging each leg to a part of the harness in a way that forces you to keep your legs spread and your sex in full view. You slip out of your space a little because of how self conscious you still are, being open like this. Chan notices and wraps a hand gently around your throat, face close to yours. “Get back in there little one. Now”. He steadily applies more pressure to your airways until you feel your eyelids getting heavy; mind going blank again. “There we go”, he murmurs. 

part 2 here

[salad-tales]

OC Interview: Cor

tagged by: @dumb-dumb-mander, thank you fren!

Draw (or use an old drawing, don’t worry!) or take a screen of your character in an interview setting and make them answer the following questions!

INTRODUCTION

Can you introduce yourself? "Gladly!", she laughs, "I am Cor. Though most of Tyria knows me as Commander Tellus of the Pact."

What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status? "Well, you see, sylvari don't really care about gender. Neither our own, nor the one of our beloveds. Though in the terms of other races, I identify as a pansexual woman. And yes, I am taken."

Where and when were you born? "Sylvari aren't typically born. We grow in.. fruit pods if you will, that grow on the Pale Mother's boughs", she turns and points to the boughs and roots reaching all the way to the Caledon. "I awoke and was peeled from one of them at dusk, as I was not able to get out of it myself. Just outside the portal. It was.. 1309 AE if I remember correctly. It's been a while."

What is your weapon of choice and fighting style? "My first weapon was a staff and it's been my trusted choice ever since. Though I have learned at least partial proficiency with a handful of other weapons due to my work for the Pact."

Lastly, are you happy? "I've just come home to my beloved after being away for years because of wars that we have won. ...yes. Yes, I am happy."

FAMILY AND FRIENDS

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them? "I don't have a family in the traditional sense of other races. Though it is not uncommon for sylvari to form familial bonds. I, too, have close friends who I view as siblings. My brother, Rosalus, for example. And I have been a mentor and somewhat of a mother to two saplings. Well, they are not saplings anymore, but i still fill that spot."

Have you ever ran away from home? "Not really, no. I believe it doesn't count when you are given permission"

Would you consider marriage or having children? "Marriage.. we didn't have any kind of ceremony but we hold a promise", she smiles wistfully, almost bittersweet. "Though there are a lot of voices suggesting that an official ceremony and/or celebration may be beneficial for uhm.. the people's overall mood. Give them a reason to celebrate and look at the brighter side of things."

Do you secretly hate one of your friend? She shook her head. "No, they weren't my friend if I did. Nor is that of anyone's concern."

Which friend knows everything about you? "I don't have many secrets, though my closest friends all know about the same, especially those I consider siblings."

ASKED BY FANS

Are you literate? Have you been to school? "I never visited a school but I have been taught by mentors and my luminary in the early days of my life. Though I was fortunate to awake with the knowledge of how to read and write. I'm grateful to all those that have come before me and provided their knowledge. And I hope to contribute in my lifetime as well."

The eeriest prediction you made that later came true? " 'It can't get much worse, can it?' I've regretted that sentence so many times."

What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize? "Oh dear..", she raised a hand to cover her mouth out of reflex, "There quite a few that would surely take too long to wrap up if I were to start now."

Do you have mental health or physical issues? She hummed, looking from side to side, searching for an appropriate answer. "It.. is how it is."

What is your current main goal? "I dare be honest? Living my life."

CHOICES

Drink or food? "Drink as in alcohol, or..? If it's about alcohol, then food. Otherwise.. why not both?"

Cats or dogs? "Birds, definitely. Despite how many cats one would find at our home. They belong to Mox."

Early bird or night owl? "Staying up so long at night that you are awake in the morning,so both."

Optimist or pessimist? "I wouldn't be here having this conversation with you, if I hadn't always kept hope. Whenever I feel close to losing hope, I sing the Mother's song. Fear not this night, you will not go astray Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way ..you see?"

Sassy or sarcastic? "I fear I am neither."

HAVE YOU EVER

Been caught sneaking out "Oh no, I wouldn't have come far anyway."

Broke a bone "None of mine, as I don't have any. But someone elses, surely."

Received flowers "Occasionally", she smiles, a soft glow creepins to her cheeks.

Ghosted someone "What?"

Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get "That happens more often in the Priory, than you'd believe. But we laugh about it."

I fear all the people I know are already tagged, so I will send this out to everyone who would like to do it too!

[sorjuanas]

june 22nd

taglist idk honestly i'm just tagging a few friends lol pls lmk if you don't want to be tagged and if you do want to be tagged also lmk 💘💗💝💕💓 @ruckenfigurs @dilfdeclan @chaosofbattle @dreamertrilogys @richardsiiken @boysaints

[Transcript.

what happened? nothing. i think that's the problem really, i can sit and do nothing sometimes. more accurately i cannot do anything. i can't move my hands, or get the words to come out. i feel like i'm never going to finish doing it and even though i know - my brain knows it, i will have to start to finish, eventually. my body refuses to acknowledge it, i think my body is tired. i think i should sleep more. i think maybe i should cry more, too, because today when my hands couldn't move i just started crying wailing sobbing. i haven't done that. sobbing wailing crying my heart out like that since i was, i don't know. 

i don't think i remember. at eleven, maybe, when my mother found out i used to hurt my wrists because it was the only command my hands responded to. i don't do that anymore though. i'm good now, i'm kinder, i'm hard-working. i am exemplary. i think i'm trembling right now. i think im shaking. i think i'm not thinking at all and i am simply moving my hands. it's strange how i can move my hands for this, but not anything else, something useful, something people can get, something that reflects my value, my intelligence my will to participate in this society. i think my hands don't want me to participate in this society. i think they just want me to sit down and write, scroll past it all, to not think ever again, they want to wipe my tears and they don't want to muffle my sobs. my dad texted me asking if i wanted to go ride my bike with him. i didn't answer, my fingers were motionless in front of the screen. he told me it was okay if i didn't want to (and like i don't even know if i did want to. if would be beneficial to my health, he says, to clear my mind and flex my muscles and breathe actual air rather than whatever else i've been inhaling these past twenty four months.) he told me it was okay, because he is good like that. he just asked me to say no. to tell him no.

and i think that’s also the hard part, many people have told him no before. he’s very nervous these days. i can tell he’s trying his best but i think the distance is killing him. i think he’s so incredibly sad and i don't know how to help him if not getting good grades so he can look at me and not worry about my grades and my future and how successful and happy and fulfilled my life is going to be, so he doesn't have to worry about me being miserable the way he feels. i don't want to make him sad. i just wish i could move my hands, move my eyes, read what i need to read and not what i want to read, listen with my ears open to what i need to listen. i want my hands to have a brain of their own but no free will, so i can use their knowledge and predisposition to make up for the fact that i have none of those things left. 

i don't know what to do anymore. i don't know where my phone is. i don't want to look at my phone ever again i think i'm going to cry again. its close, it gets closer, the tears are closer. the tears are closer, the sobs in my throat feel strange and a hundred times more familiar than my hands and my ears and my eyes. i haven't heard of these sobs in my throat in years. decades. not like this, not with such an intensity. i wonder how mom is. i wonder if she’s happy with my academic achievements - scratch that i know she's not happy, but i at the very least can mildy hope she is content. not that the results require a happy response they are mediocre at best. 

i just think i have done worse before. i have been so deep before, i don't know how i got where i am now but i think it was too hard, too much work, i don't know how to do it again. i don't know how to do it for me, instead of whatever else is pushing me through. probably my father’s grief. probably my mother’s anger — disappointment. everything else. anything else. i don't know what i'm doing, i don't know what to do. i am going to try and breathe. breathe breathe breathe. i really wanted today to be the day. i don't know what happened.

dad will be home soon. he will know nothing. it saddens me, in a way, knowing nobody will know i cried my heart out in these walls today, with only me and myself to hear and bear witness to it. i don't want to have to deal with it alone, but i don't want anyone else to deal with it. this is something mine, my burden and my secrets. explaining sounds like too much work. i do wonder sometimes how many times my dad or my mom have cried their heart out in my house while i was out. and when i arrived the crime scene was clean, and so i never found out. i do wonder. because after i finished crying, i cleaned my room, i organized my closet, maybe so not to think, maybe to give myself the illusion that there is a fixable mess out there. something i can fix. dad will come home at any moment now. i hope he’s happy with the room.

End Transcript.]

[bybdolan]

ANYTHING THEY WANT TO HEAR [based on cowboy like me by Taylor Swift and this edit] Word Count: 4225 ; Rating: T+ ; TW: slight mention of corruption of minors ; AO3 PLAYLIST

“I'm trying to save my money when it comes to small things like that, you know.” She pushes her sunglasses up. “This thing has an expiration date for me.” “What do you mean?” “I'm getting older, Jack. My beauty and my youth are my currency, and they won't be mine forever.” He looks at her for a very long time. “I don't think you'll ever not be beautiful,” he says after a while, and Isis knows he actually means it. His voice is almost plain when he's being honest, it's so different from his usual act.

read below the cut.

“May I have this dance?”

His voice is dark and low in all the right ways and for a moment Isis is almost lured into his sweet web, but then she remembers how he talked to the old lady with the sapphire ring earlier and she knows that he wants something from her she isn't willing to give him. So instead of answering, she lazily stretches her back like a cat in the sun and takes another sip of her champagne.

“Dancing is a dangerous game,” she replies after a while, and it's almost a bored sigh.

He laughs and exposes a perfect row of white teeth. “Cynical, aren't we?”

“Takes one to know one.”

Her eyes scan the crowd and she catches the eye of a man who is looking at her over the shoulder of the woman Isis assumes is his wife. Isis looks away. This is only her second day here. She has to give the men time to take her in first, let them see her exit the pool in her wet swimsuit and cross her long legs while waiting at the bar; so when they finally get to undress her, it feels like a relief, like unwrapping a gift you have been waiting for. It makes them feel special, to think that they of all people charmed her. Isis knows that men like that.

“You know that he's a married man?”

Isis smiles. “Hasn't stopped me before. It's their choice, not mine.”

She turns back to the man beside her. He's very handsome, all dark skin and dark hair and dark eyes. There's something rugged about him, as if he was a statue somebody had left unfinished, and Isis has the sudden urge to put her hand on his cheek and feel the roughness of his beard against her palm.

He reaches out his hand and Isis takes it. His long slender fingers wrap tightly around hers.

“Jack. Nice to meet you.”

“Isis.”

“Did your parents give you that name?”, he asks, and she laughs and shakes her head.

“No. I did.”

“What's your real name, then?” He lowers his voice and Isis has to smile because she knows what he is trying to do. There's a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes when she doesn't lean in to hear him better.

“It was a church name. A good church name for a good church girl.” She enjoys the sight of Jack's white-teethed grin for a quick second before she turns away.

“I'm sure that's what you are,” Jack says, his voice still low and dark, and it sends shivers down her spine. He's good. If she talks to him for too long, he might get her where he wants her, but Isis isn't willing to give him that satisfaction. So she puts her now empty champagne flute on a tray a waiter carries past, rolls her shoulders in a way she knows makes her shoulder blades look good, and gives him an apologetic smile that he will know is fake.

“Well, Jack, it was nice meeting you, but good girls like me shouldn't talk to young men for too long. It gives them ideas.”

Her high heels are softly clicking on the tennis court floor as she is walking away and she can tell that Jack is looking at the silky skin of her back, exposed by her sequined gown, and for once she actually feels good about it.

The gentle wind that blows across the town square tugs at Isis' napkin and her blouse, but she doesn't mind it because the breeze is making the heavy heat slightly more bearable. Jack is sitting across from her, Aviator sunglasses up in his dark curls, head thrown back as he enjoys the cool air.

“Had I known how awful this heat would be, I would have gone to England,” he groans, and Isis smiles.

“I personally prefer sunshine over constant rain, but that might just be me.”

“Of course you do.” He grins. “It allows you to wear the skimpy bathing suits you love so much.”

Isis rolls her eyes at him over the rim of her sunglasses, but she doesn't actually mean it. “If you don't like me doing that, you have done a very bad job at showing it.”

Jack chuckles and looks up into the blue sky again.

They have been spending some time together these past weeks. It's beneficial to both of them to be seen together occasionally, in situations that suggest they are romantically involved. When Isis goes out with an older man later in the day, his ego is soothed by the impression that somehow, Isis chose him over Jack, and it's the same with the ladies that Jack dines with. Isis is aware of the way they look at her. Most with jealousy, some with desire. Isis feels sorry for the latter.

Of course they sleep together sometimes, secretly, and Jack always sneaks out of Isis' room when they are done, leaving her alone in the big, cold bed. She enjoys the arrangement, it is nice to do something just for her own pleasure, without submitting to others' wishes or expecting monetary gain from it. As much as they publicly exploit their sympathy for one another, their friendship – though Isis wouldn't necessarily call it that – is genuine.

“Do you think that store over there is selling an English newspaper?” Jack asks and Isis follows his eyes to the small shop across the square. She shakes her head.

“I doubt it. But why don't you just wait until we get new ones at the hotel?”

Jack shrugs.

Every week or so, there is a fresh stack of newspapers on the receptionist's desk, and Jack is always the first to buy one. He spends the entire morning standing around somewhere, hair dishevelled, completely engulfed in whatever news he's reading, and Isis knows he actually cares about the articles because there is a spark in his eyes that isn't there when he is reading Albert Camus by the pool.

“Why does it interest you so much?” She cocks her head to the side and drinks her Espresso.

“Because I care about what's going on in the world,” he replies, “I actually wanted to be a journalist when I was younger.”

It surprises Isis. For some reason, she automatically assumed Jack was like her, with no aspirations besides getting the most out of what they were doing.

“Is that why you started doing this?” She makes a vague gesture with her hand. “To get money for college?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I wouldn't sit here with you if that was the case.”

“Then what was the reason?” She doesn't know why it suddenly interests her so much.

“I didn't want to go to war.” There's a moment of silence. “All my friends got their drafting letters and none of their weird tricks to get out of it worked, so I figured the only way to not get shipped to Vietnam if my number was pulled was bribing the officers. And since I didn't have the money myself, I had to find somebody to pay for me.” He picks up his coffee cup, but instead of drinking he just stares at the dark liquid. “I borrowed a suit and snuck into the fanciest bar in town and somehow managed to get this widow – her name was Rebekah – wrapped around my finger. When my letter came, she gave the officer a thousand bucks to let me off the hook. I couldn't fuck her while being dead in the jungle, after all.”

The silence between them suddenly feels as heavy as the heat. Jack finally drinks his coffee, then his eyes go to Isis.

“What about you?” he asks. She looks away, gaze fixed on the child playing with a stray cat by the fountain in the middle of the square.

“I just wanted pretty dresses,” she says plainly. “My parents were very religious in an almost puritan way, my sisters and I weren't allowed to do anything that was deemed a distraction from our faith. I hated it. I wanted to be like the other girls in school. So whenever I could, I would take the bus into town and look at the dresses in the shop windows or flip through every fashion magazine I saw. And one day this guy came up to me in the streets and told me he'd buy me the dress I was looking at if I did a little favor for him.” Isis looks back at Jack, eyes all cold and icy through her tinted glasses. She puts her chin up, even after all those years. “I wore that dress like an armor. I felt like fucking Joan Of Arc. It was a fuck you to my parents and my church and my teachers and everybody else who thought they could control what I wanted in life.”

The wind blows her hair into her face. It sticks to her cheeks and her lipstick and Isis combs it back into place with her fingers angrily. It's an unusually rough motion for her.

“And then I just went with it, I guess. Always on the lookout for men who were willing to pay for my attention. It's so easy, you just look pretty and tell them anything they want to hear and that's it.”

Jack nods slowly, fingers toying with the white paper napkin tucked under his cup. “That's one of the reasons I didn't go to college with the money I made. I was scared of not being any good.”

Isis looks at him and her features soften. “That's a stupid reason for not trying.”

Jack gives her a crooked grin. “I guess.”

He looks at his hands and then at his wristwatch and makes a face. “Fuck, I've got to get going.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Her choice of words makes him laugh. “Yes. The blonde lady who always carries those expensive leather handbags, I'm sure you know her.”

Isis nods. “She looked at me this morning when I sat with you during breakfast and I'm surprised I didn't drop dead right then and there.”

Jack laughs again and runs his fingers through his hair. “She's the jealous type. I'm sure she'll be willing to do me a lot of favors if it only means I won't look at you for a few days.”

“You won't manage that.”

“Maybe.”

They both grin.

“If you are planning on ignoring me,” she says, “You should at least pay for my coffee.”

He shrugs. “I guess it would be the nice thing to do. But let it be known that I always pay for your food.”

“I'm trying to save my money when it comes to small things like that, you know.” She pushes her sunglasses up. “This thing has an expiration date for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm getting older, Jack. My beauty and my youth are my currency, and they won't be mine forever.”

He looks at her for a very long time. “I don't think you'll ever not be beautiful,” he says after a while, and Isis knows he actually means it. His voice is almost plain when he's being honest, it's so different from his usual act.

“A lot of people don't think like that.” She looks back at the child near the fountain. The stray cat is gone. She feels a tightness in her throat. “So it would be nice if you could pay for my coffee.” Her voice is a little shaky and she hates it.

Jack silently pulls his wallet from his pocket and puts a bill on the table.

“Thank you,” she says, without looking at him.

He stands up and nods his head as a good-bye.

Isis feels terribly embarrassed and uncomfortably close to him for reasons she can't quite explain, and when she watches him walk to the brown Chrysler he parked in one of the neatly marked spots on the other side of the town square, she has the urge to say something that will make him forget about how unusual this conversation was for them.

“You're really just in this for the fancy cars, aren't you?”

It's a stupid thing to say, now that she knows how untrue it is, but she hopes it's shallow enough to erase what they just shared and make them go back to the sly back-and-forth they've gotten so used to, always vague enough to be fun.

There is relief in his laugh that warmly bounces off the buildings and echoes over the piazza. He throws up his hands in an almost triumphant gesture.

“Damn right I am!"

And that's how Isis knows everything is fine between them. The smile eases its way onto her face without her noticing at first, but when she feels the warmth in her cheeks and in her gut, she bites her lip to make it stop.

Five weeks after his arrival in Italy, Jack gets sick. Isis blames it on a bad oyster, which makes him laugh because she says it in a way that allows no discussion and reminds him of his mother. There are flowers in his hotel room with Get Well Soon!-cards written in fancy ink, but it's Isis who goes to the pharmacy to buy him medicine using her broken Italian, it's Isis who comes to air out his room when he's too tired to leave the bed, and it's Isis who wipes the sweat off his forehead and reassuringly runs her fingers through his greasy hair.

She knows she has better things to do than sitting by his bed and conversing about the topics they only educated themselves about to appeal to the rich folk. The man she has slept with for the past two weeks has flown back to England (not without declaring his love for her in the form of a letter and a diamond necklace), and there are new visitors at the hotel who look at Isis the way she wants them to look at her, and she should be by the pool with her head thrown back and legs curved, or at the bar, touching their shoulders while laughing at the stories they tell. Instead, she is sitting on the cushioned chair in Jack's room with her legs comfortably stretched out, arguing about whether or not Andy Warhol is any good. Sometimes it scares her how much she enjoys his company. She'd rather spend the days with him than alone in her room, she doesn't remember the last time she felt like that about another person.

Her visits get rarer and shorter once Jack gets better and Isis finds a man that takes her to fancy restaurants and buys her flowy dresses in the shops in town, but she makes sure to see Jack at least every other day. One time, as she is about to leave, he tells her to wait and rummages through his bedside table until he pulls out the sapphire ring she had seen on the hand of the lady at the tennis court dance, all those weeks ago.

“For you,” he says, “As a thank you for your time and care.”

When Isis hesitates he cocks his head to the side. "I won't miss it. Blue is more of your color anyway."

Isis lets him slide the ring on her pointer finger and looks at how the blue stone catches the light.

“I'm surprised you actually scored that lady,” she says softly, “I would have bet she wasn't interested in you.”

It's not what she actually wanted to say and they both know it, but they let it slide, and Isis manages to hide how fast her heart is beating until she is alone in the hallway and presses her palm to her chest.

“Do you want me to light that cigarette for you, sweetheart?”

Isis nods and leans over so James can reach the tip of her cigarette with his lighter. She knows that her pose allows him a good look down her dress, and she can tell that he enjoys it.

“Thank you,” she says after her first exhale. The smoke drifts away over the town. The restaurant they are at has a nice view, but maybe she just thinks that because when she looks at the city, she doesn't have to look at James.

It's not that he is ugly – he still has a lot of thick brown hair and some of the bluest eyes Isis has ever seen – but she can't look at him without thinking about his wife, Elizabeth, who had left the hotel last week because she missed their children back home.

Usually, Isis doesn't care about the casualties of her actions, but guilt has slipped into her mind over the course of the past few days. When she told Jack about it, he just shrugged and said he doesn't care, he knows how these people would treat him if he wasn't staying at their hotel but working in his father's garage, and while Isis understands him, her skin is still the same color as theirs and so it’s not her anger to share. Besides, she doesn't feel bad for the men she lies to about her feelings, she feels bad for their wives.

She has never thought much about what it must feel like for them, to be betrayed by the ones they've sworn to dedicate their lives to, be hurt and discarded by the ones they love. Love had been a commodity to Isis, as long as she can remember, and it worries her that the term has started to feel more and more like the vague idea of ‘sacrifice’ she has read about in countless romance novels. It had always seemed so foreign to her, but she kind of understands it now.

“Is there something wrong?” asks James and Isis smiles sweetly and shakes her head. Her mind is trying to replicate how it had felt when Jack kissed her temple last week, when she asked him to stay after they had slept together. Of course he left anyway, but the tenderness of his goodbye kiss made Isis so happy that it frightened her.

“I'm just admiring the view.” She takes another drag of her cigarette and tilts her head in a way that shows off her long, pale neck.

James looks at her and grins. “So am I.”

It takes everything in Isis not to roll her eyes. Instead, she throws her head back with a laugh that bubbles like champagne, covers her mouth with her one hand and puts the other one on James'.

“Oh, stop it, Jac– James!”

The C is a full stop in her throat and she can tell by the look on James' face that he heard it. She intertwines her fingers with his and strokes his thumb to make him forget.

“I’m going back to San Francisco.”

“When?”

“In two days.”

“Why?”

Jack shrugs. “I’m bored of this place. These people. And the heat.”

Isis nods. She knows she would feel the same if it wasn’t for him, but it still feels like he punched her in the gut. She’s not reason enough to stay.

“I just felt like you should know,” he says when Isis doesn’t respond, and she nods again.

“Thank you for telling me.”

There is an uncomfortable silence. Isis doesn’t know what else to tell him, except for the truth: “I’m going to miss you, you know.”

“I’m going to miss you, too.” She can tell that this isn’t all that he wants to say, but he stays silent after finishing his sentence and she wants to grab him by the collar of his stupid yellow shirt and call him a fucking coward. But she doesn’t. Instead, she grabs her book from the table next to her and tells Jack that she has to get ready for dinner.

When he knocks on her door hours later and asks her why she wasn’t at the dining hall, she tells him a lie.

“Come to L.A. with me.” The words fall from her lips carelessly. She had a plan on how to ask him, but then the sunlight made his skin glow even more than usual and suddenly, her words were stronger than her self-control.

“What?” Jack turns around, the look in his eyes somewhere between bewildered surprise and a deep sadness Isis wasn't expecting.

“I'm serious,” she says, voice shaking, “Come to L.A. with me. Or I come to San Francisco with you. I don't care.” She presses her hands into the wall behind her back. “We can live together and sell the other apartment so you can pay for college and finally become a journalist, and I'm sure that I'd find something to do, too, and –”

“Isis,” he interrupts her, and his voice is so gentle that it breaks her heart, “I... Why?”

She shrugs and looks at the shiny tiles on the floor. “I like being around you. And I want you to like me, even though there's nothing in it for me. I've never felt that way about anybody before I met you. And I don't want it to go away.” Her back is pressed against the wall so tightly by now that she feels like the wallpaper is going to swallow her. She doesn't dare to look at Jack.

There is a long moment of silence. Jack looks at his suitcase and sighs. His left thumb is pressed into the palm of his right hand, as if to distract him from pain somewhere else in his body.

“Do you think we can do this?”

It's not a no. Isis feels like she could cry.

“Maybe. I don't know.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“But what if we fail?” He turns to her and his eyes are filled with worry. “We both haven't done anything besides this in our lives. Do you really think we can just stop?”

“That's a stupid reason for not trying.” She puts her chin up. “The fear of failure. I've told you that before.”

He exhales and his shoulders drop.

“My god, Jack, look at us. Have we ever failed before?”

“This is different.”

“But it's still us.” Her hands are numb by now from being trapped between her back and the wall, but she doesn't care. She feels the same way she felt as a young girl, standing in front of the storefront windows, so determined to get what she wanted.

Jack looks very lost in the middle of his room. It's the first time Isis notices how big it is. “I'm just scared of hurting you,” he says softly.

“The fact that you care is enough for me.”

There's a short moment where neither of them move, as if they were frozen in time. Jack looks past Isis through the window, out into the sky, then back at her. She holds his gaze. She wants this. She wants him. So much that it’s clawing at her from the inside. He should know that.

Finally, slowly, he closes the space between them, wraps his arms around her waist and puts his head on her shoulder. He pulls her away from the wall and Isis feels the blood rush back into her hands. She buries her fingers in his hair. Jack softly rocks her from side to side as if she was a child.

“You know, I've always wanted to go to L.A.,” he murmurs into her neck and his words are echoing in her bones, “The palm trees look very pretty.”

“They are,” she whispers, “They are.”

“I’ve forgotten how uncomfortable these seats are.”

Jack chuckles beside her. “You've been in Italy for too long.”

Isis sighs. “Yes.”

She feels her body vibrate as the plane starts to drive. It will take them to Rome, from there, they will go to Los Angeles. Her stomach starts to twitch, like it always does during takeoff, but there is more to her anxiety today. The rattling of the tires on the concrete and the roaring of the engines drown out her thoughts. She closes her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Jack's voice is as soft as ever and yet she understands him just fine.

“I'm nervous,” she replies.

“Is it because of the plane?”

Isis opens her eyes and smiles at him. It's an unsure smile, flickering somewhere between excitement and fear. She can tell from the look in his eyes that he understands what she is trying to tell him.

He reaches for her hand and starts drawing small circles on her skin with his thumb. The plane lifts off and suddenly everything feels very still and quiet, despite the engines’ constant roar.

Jack's thumb rests on the sapphire ring on her pointer finger.

“I can't believe you're actually wearing it,” he murmurs, “Considering how it came into my possession.”

Isis puts her head on his shoulder. “It was the first gift you ever gave me. It's mine now. It doesn't matter how you got it.”

Jack laces their fingers together and kisses her forehead. Then he turns his head back to the window and they both watch as the plane breaks through the clouds, into the bright sky.

[delu-jean]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨: 𝐍𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

(Jean x fem!/reader) -> Angst -> 3.1k words 

Ⅰ> Ⅲ

‘What is this?...it feels so...warm…’ your eyes fluttered as you felt a presence. The comfort of that heat held you while laying limp. It wasn’t a familiar feeling, but even so, it felt like it was. 

Before you could say anything else, the warmth was now gone. Confused, you tried moving your body, but instead, it froze. With no type of heat, your body started to ice. Instead of struggling, you accepted it...something you wish you didn’t end up doing.

Your eyes opened to then see Bertholdt’s head. He was carrying you elsewhere as you watched people surround you. It seemed as if both him, and the other two were in a rush to get somewhere, however, you decided not to question and trusted them instead. 

What felt like two seconds, was apparently two hours. You woke up to see the three in front of you. Confused by what had just happened, Reiner sighed and decided to explain. 

“We stole from some merchants earlier, and since you were sleeping, ‘long legs’ needed to carry you.” 

“I wasn’t much help though. I probably should have just let Reiner grab you.” 

“Yeah, you should have.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m a little heavy so-”

“No, you’re not. I’m just, not as strong. But don’t apologize, you seemed like you needed the rest. So I’m glad you got some.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking, where are we now?” 

“Apparently, this is ‘Wall Rose,’ the second interior. When it comes to this place, I’m not quite sure when it comes to specifics. But what matters is that we have food, we’re together, and we make up a plan.” 

Before Reiner could speak any further, he sat there in silence. It looked like he had something on his mind, along with the other two. You decided to avert your gaze elsewhere, to then see that brunette yet again. 

You decided to smile at the boy which seemed to confuse him. Even though he had such a puzzled look, your attention shifted after hearing Reiner clear his throat. 

“Okay, so I have a plan-”

` “Should we even listen to your plan? Look where all of your plans have gotten us,” Annie barked with an annoyed tone. 

Reiner scoffed and came back with: “Then I’m assuming you have a better one? Or rather, if you even have one.” 

“Let’s not fight…” Bertholdt said while holding back Reiner

“Yeah, let’s not.”

“You’re right. Well anyways, my idea is for us to join the “Scouts.” Apparently, they were the people with that odd gear. I think we’ll have a good opportunity to learn what we’re up against, build thought out strategies, and overall, get a step closer to retrieving the Founding Titan.” 

“It may not sound like much of a step, but at least it’s something. And Y/n, don’t worry. I know you may not have any titan powers, but we’ll do our best to keep you safe. You’re one of our friends after all.” 

Although you weren’t sure about the plan, you decided to have faith in Reiner. It’s better believing you had one chance versus none. You didn’t worry too much though. Even if you weren’t the “best” when it came to fighting, it’s not like you had no capability whatsoever. 

You were a quick learner, and a perfectionist. In Marely, although you had prepared for wars, you were in the military for too little (meaning you never had the chance to go to an actual war). Because of this, you didn’t really have any motivation to build your skills, but knowing that you would need them to help you survive, sparked your utmost concentration. You could go the distance, you knew that for a fact. And the least you could do was protect yourself, to get out of their way at least.

“Okay then it’s settled. The next thing we need to do is join the scouts.” 

Time Skip

You spent the next couple of years training with Annie and Reiner. Bertholdt tried helping every now and then, but decided it would be best if he focused on his skill (since he thought he was lacking). 

They taught you the most they could with combat, and handling blades. Since they couldn’t get their hands on actual ODM gear, they instead substituted with long sticks. A bit heavier than the blades themself, but beneficial. 

“Y/n, camp starts in a couple days. The guys and girls will be in separate quarters, but if you ever need one of us, be sure to come to our bunker. We’ll show you where we are after getting assigned.” 

“Sounds good.” 

‘Wow...after all this time, I guess the journey begins.’ 

First Day Of Camp

“Annie, Annie where did you go?” you whispered feeling frustrated. 

It was orientation day and she was nowhere to be found. The boys didn’t seem to know where she was either, and well...you didn’t want her to be alone. So you decided to move your legs and do something. Unfortunately in the process, you bumped into someone, which caused them to collide into someone else. 

“OWW!! WATCH IT WILL YOU!!”

“S-sorry,” the black haired freckled fella said.

The person in front seemed very upset. You heard him say something under his breath, but didn’t ask what. He stood in such a way which agitated you. It was just a mistake, what was his problem? You caught a glimpse of his back side. Somewhat lanky, short light brown hair, along with an undercut? Yeah, you had to keep that look in mind while here. 

After pushing that thought away, you tapped on the other person’s shoulder.

“Hey, I’m sorry about that. I was trying to look for someone, but ended up causing trouble for you.” 

“It’s okay...I think he’s just a little roughed up because of the commander. He wasn’t exactly nice to either of us. I’m just glad that segment is over if anything.” 

“Haha speaking of the commander, it looks like potato girl isn’t on his good list.” 

“Yeah..but she’ll be fine. Aww but lucky, wish I got a potato in,” you both giggled at his statement, to then see the commander eye you both, which made the two of you stop immediately. 

‘But speaking of the commander, I remember...ah I don’t remember his name but, that boy mentioned something about joining the interior. Maybe I should bring it up to Reiner, see what he thinks about it,’ you thought to yourself. 

Later Into The Evening

The two boys and you had discussed things over dinner. Annie decided to sit by herself, saying she needed some time alone. You respected that and sat with the boys eating whatever was served.

Bertholdt seemed a little worn out, but being both concerned for you, and uncomfortable (because of the silence), he decided to ask you questions. Things such as: “How are you guys?,``'' “Did training go well for you Y/n?,” “Learn anything new?”

Your answers were quick and short. It’s not that you didn’t want to talk to Bertholdt, rather, your attention was drawn somewhere else. A fight started to break out, and you couldn’t help but bud in. Playing judge wasn’t one of your specialties, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t incapable of doing so. 

While listening in, you started inferring things. For one, the guy who started the fight was a jerk. Making fun of the other kid and bringing the events of Shiganshina into it, that wasn’t very nice. But then at the sametime, that second boy made it hard for you to feel empathetic. 

He just seemed so brash and hot tempered. It looked like he wanted to start a fight by running his mouth off. Both seemed to be at fault in their own ways. Regardless, at this point, the volume was too grand for you not to look. So you did. 

Although you couldn’t see them both very well, the boy in the back looked like that brunette...but you weren’t sure. You tried getting a better view by standing up and watching the two bicker. Reiner stopped you, thinking you wanted to involve yourself in the conflict. 

“Y/n, it’s none of our business. Plus, remember who the enemy is…” you halted to then see the two “resolve” their differences. 

You were glad that it was over, but then saw another person had arisen. A girl who looked all too familiar walked past the other boy. You then heard him mumble a couple things here and there, which made you giggle a tad. 

“It’s just, I’ve never seen such pretty black hair,” a blush spread on his cheeks. 

“Thanks,” she said bluntly. 

She then walked out following the other person. To your “surprise,” so does the undercut, and that being the case, you decide to walk out and listen in. You finished dinner anyways and what better way to kill time. There was silence for a bit, but then you heard someone exclaim: 

“HEY, WHAT DID YOU WIPE ON ME!?” 

“Nothing...just my trust.” 

You laughed a little at the situation. He was probably upset that a cute girl ended up cruising with some guy he had just quarreled with. You thought about it, and to be honest, you would’ve been pissed as well. You started to realise the resemblance you had with some of the Eldians here, this being an example.

Because of that, you decided to let down your guard for once (thinking of it as a “special occasion”). You opened the door once you heard the other person leave, and then stepped outside. You stood behind him and heard the words: 

“What do you want?-”

“Nothing, just someone to talk to I guess.” 

“I-I’m sorry about that,” he straightened himself. 

“I thought you were one of my buddies. I didn’t realise you were a gi-...someone else.” 

“Well, now you do,” you chuckled and then stared straight at him. 

“Wait a second, you’re that guy from earlier. Who yelled at the freckled boy. Know this, it wasn’t his fault he crashed into you. It was mine. I apologize for that.” 

“Honestly, it’s fine. I’m over it anyways. Plus, mistakes are mistakes.”

“Mhm, they most definitely are. Speaking of which, you definitely made one earlier. You shouldn’t have mentioned Shiganshina in such a brash manner. You know, the girl you like is from there. So try to be more sensitive regarding the matter.” 

“Wait, how do you know?”

“I was...there.” 

“I also interacted with her…” this sparked an idea in your head. 

Since you wanted something to entertain you, know more about Eldians, and maybe even befriend one, what better experiment than this? It helps you kill time, and you could possibly help someone out. 

“She doesn’t mind me. You know, that being the case, and knowing you like her...I could help you out. Get you into her good books and what not.” 

‘Hopefully I can get closer to her in general. She seems like an interesting person.’ 

He seemed a little reluctant, and because of that, you decided to say: 

“That brunette’s already in the lead as of right now. With my help, you could possibly catch up, or even better...surpass him,” you now had a cheeky grin plastered on your face. 

“Ugh, I guess I really don’t have a choice,” his ego just wouldn’t let him. 

You grabbed his hand and shook it. 

“You better not wipe off this trust. You can put your faith in me, so don’t worry too much, okay?” 

He sighed and you beamed. Before you could ask/say anything else, you then felt Bertholdt grasp your other hand, tugging it. You let go of the person’s hand, and walked towards Bertholdt. 

“Let’s get going Y/n,” you nodded in agreement following the other two. 

“Just what are you planning?” Reiner asked playfully. 

“Ohohoho, you shall see!” 

“I’m betting on Eren,” Bertholdt exclaimed. 

“Eren, who’s that?” They both laughed and then looked at you. 

“Just where was your head today? Ahh, Eren in the brunette, and Jean, the boy you shook hands with.” 

“Jean...I like that.” 

Jean POV 

‘Y/n?...That's a cute name. Her hand was so small compared to mine. Was that her boyfriend? OR were THEY her boyfriends!? No, stop Jean. You’re thinking like a maniac. But thank goodness she’s going to help me.’

Time Skip (Still In Jean pov)

I walked to the training grounds, and watched as Y/n and Mikasa conversed. Seeing them talk made me nervous (not knowing about what was being said). Regardless, I tried to keep my cool and sat on a rock, trying to flex my better angels to Mikasa. 

I’m really glad Y/n decided to talk with me that night. Although I DO HAVE MANY FRIENDS (I’m not lonely for goodness sake), having her there comforted me. We were able to talk about almost anything. She clarified Bertholdt was like her older brother, along with Reiner (no two timing fiasco). I got to know her interests and vice versa. 

She helped me out with dual wielding, and I, ODM gear (she was surprisingly flimsy with it).  Spending time with her was interesting. Although we talk for what seems like hours, I’m not dumb. I’m smart enough to know that she had built some type of boundary. Of course everyone had their secrets, but she always seemed so reluctant, hesitant, and well...one edge. Maybe it has to do with Shiganshina, she was a survivor afterall?...well I’m assuming. I still have more to learn and hopefully, she’ll give me that chance. 

I continued to watch the two converse. Changing my approach, I decided to move in a little closer. That way, I could hear a bit about what was going on. I sighed to then see Annie block me (surprisingly). 

“I see you’re paying close attention to Y/n. Or is it that black haired wench you’re oozing over?” I jumped a bit to see Y/n approach. 

“This twerp was spying on you. Be careful Y/n-” 

“Spying? OOOOOOoooo,” Sasha teased and skidded towards us (along with Connie). 

“Hehe, your boyfriend was admiring the view,” Connie winked as I glared at him. 

“HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND. But maybe Mikasa’s to be~” 

“Wait, really?” I questioned as she winked at me. 

“Hmmm, oh I see. Y/n wants Jean to get with Mikasa, so that she can get with Jaegar. Ehhhh, a strategist in the making! I like it,” Connie snorted as Annie tails in. 

“That would explain why you stare at him so often. I’m not going to lie, I do find that kind of weird.” 

“WHAT!!” I shrieked a little louder than expected. 

“IT’s nOt LikE thAt! I can guarantee you, it’s for different purposes!! I SWEAR!” 

I was honestly hoping that was the case. Y/n and Eren? Like crap. He’s so full of himself, “killing all of the titans?” Yeah right. Y/n deserves someone so much better than that...someone who will put their pride to the side, and get to know her on the same level. She’s a great person. Someone who empathizes easily, a very well spoken lady, understands the feelings of others, and truly cherishes those she loves. 

‘No, stop it. You shouldn’t be thinking about that. I like Mikasa...let’s think about her instead,’ As long as she doesn’t get with someone like him/Eren himself, things should be fine...right?

“*sigh*, okay okay, whatever you say.” I then walked off as the other two raced to my direction. 

Original POV

You weren’t going to lie but, Jean probably despised the idea of you hanging out with Eren. Even if you weren’t doing it alone (because Armin and Mikasa were there), it still pissed him off. You couldn’t help it though. You wanted, no, needed to understand Eren’s character more. Along with the other two. 

Something about those three made you...nervous. Observing them helped you understand these Eldians from a deeper standpoint. Yes talking with Jean was lovely, but he seemed to be missing a factor that these three (and just about everyone else) had. That was fear. You knew Jean was one of the luckier ones. He had a family, warm bed, and everything anyone could ask for. 

Whereas the rest didn’t grow up with such things, or, had horrendous experiences. Of course you had somewhat of a good child, though it wasn’t exactly rainbows. But that was beside the point. Being with them taught you just how determined they were when trying to fight the titans. Seeing how each had resentment for what they had done, terrified you. Eren’s anger scared you the most though. That burning fire in the brim of his eyes, was one no one could put out. That being the case, you’d rather be on the safe side of that flame,  and not the opposing. For now at least. 

That’s why you tried your best to understand him. Along with Mikasa, and Armin. You three were close enough to converse, but that was about it. You made sure to keep your guard up. Reminding yourself that their hate against their enemy, would one day also be yours. That ultimately, Marely was against them and you being from there...meant you were too…. 

Even though these thoughts held you back, you also had moments where you were able to let through (which gave you a little hope in these people). You and Mikasa were able to interact more. She didn’t seem bothered, nor unbothered by you trying to get to know her better. You brought up Jean a couple of times, hoping things would go well. She seemed somewhat open (yet opposed) to the idea of them being friends. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure if things were going the way you had promised, but progress was progress. Yet at the same time, did you really want things to go the way they were planned?-

‘Stop that,’ you sighed at your childish thinking. Of course you wanted things to go according to plan. 

You decided to run and catch up with the others. Jean patted your head with a discouraged look on his face. You raised an eyebrow wondering as to why, but kept quiet. 

“You better have different intentions...Eren is no good-”

“And you are?” he paused and shot you a look you’ve never seen before. 

“Whaaat? I’m just joking,” you remarked as he awkwardly patted his nape. 

“Haha yeah, of course you are,” you both laugh to then see Bertholdt scurry over. He seemed anxious, so anxious to the point you knew you needed to check on him. You quickly ran the other direction and approached Bertholdt. 

“Y/n...damn, I shouldn’t...no...I really shouldn’t be doing this, but you need to trust me.” 

“Trust you?-” 

“Whatever you do, don’t get killed. Stay alive, and alert. Stick with Jean, Eren, Mikasa. Anyone for the matter...okay?” 

“Bertholdt, what’s going on?-”

“Just promise me, okay?”

“Okay...I will.”  

Chapter three will be out soon!! 

Ⅰ> Ⅲ

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 1 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: Gene Page/AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: This will be a collection of conversations set before the events of season 9 in which the reader speaks with Negan while in his cell as they recount events and memories from their time in the Apocalypse as well as stories of his own. 

Word Count: 2417

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Open Season” by Josef Salvat

Note: These are going to be smaller stories that I will be updating randomly. Each fic will be a conversation/situation about Negan in his cell in Alexandria. Some maybe very short, others not. I am still working on the other stories, but I wanted to post this as I work on those as well. Thank you for your kind words about my family, I really appreciate it.

------

“I just don’t know why you’re asking me to do this, Michonne.” 

You stood across from Alexandria’s head of security in her kitchen. Michonne meticulously cleaned her Katana as you spoke, remaining calm the entire time. When she had asked you to meet her today, you never imagined this would be the reason. 

“Gabriel is worried about his state of mind,” Michonne said, “He thinks somebody should be speaking with him on a regular basis.” 

“Isn’t that already Gabriel’s job?” you asked. “He’s always the one who’s down there.” Michonne sighed, sliding the blade back into its sheath.

“He believes that he can no longer get through to him and that they’ve become too familiar with each other,” Michonne said, placing her sword down and bracing her hands against the kitchen counter, “I also think we can benefit from it and I suppose he can as well.” You frowned. 

“You’re asking me to become Negan’s therapist,” you pointed out. “How is any of that beneficial?”

“Whether we like it or not, Negan did run an entire community unchallenged. He may have insight into this world that we don’t and I have started to think that perhaps keeping him so isolated isn’t doing anyone any good,” Michonne explained. “I am asking you because you don’t have a relationship with him. The two of you never interacted during the war and you made sure to stay out of his line of sight for most of it. You’re not a total stranger, but he doesn’t know you like he knows Gabriel, me, or even Aaron.”

“So, basically, you want someone he can’t push around by pushing their buttons,” you concluded and Michonne grimaced. 

“You were also a teacher, (Y/N),” said Michonne, “that is something you two have in common. Maybe that will get him to open up or at least… God, I don’t know what I want the outcome to be, but Rick wanted Negan to be a symbol for how we can grow as a society. I don’t know if he can ever be redeemed, but if he can even a small amount, then it may start with you.” 

“You pulled out your Rick card,” you said with a sigh, “not fair.” Michonne smiled with a shrug. 

“I knew it would come in handy someday,” she said and you finally gave in. 

“Okay, I will be the big bad wolf’s confidant, but if he tries anything or pisses me off to a degree that makes me want to commit murder, that’s on Gabriel,” you said with a wink and Michonne visibly relaxed. 

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she said, relieved. “I’m going to let you run it the way you want to, but try not to piss him off if you can.” You smiled at her brightly. 

“Oh, you know me, Michonne, something like that is inevitable.”

-----

When you arrived at the cell an hour later, you dismissed the guard who stood out front. 

If you were going to be talking to Negan to gain insight and trust, you didn’t see the need for a chaperone. As the guard left, you pushed open the heavy door and sealed it behind you. 

“Gabe, if you’re here to give me another life lesson, you can save it. I’m not in the mood,” Negan said in the darkness of his cell. You had never been this close to the man before. You had fought against the Saviors of course, but always at an outpost or in a larger fight. Rick had also used your talents with the sniper rifle and kept you up high most of the time. This whole situation was alien to you and while it was unnerving to be so near to a killer, you didn’t let that stop you from stepping out of the shadows. 

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not Father Gabriel,” you said, dragging a chair from the wall and centering it before the jail cell. Negan, who had been laying on his bed with his back to the door, slowly sat up and turned towards you.

In the cool light of the room, you could see him clearly now. His hair was shorter than the last time you had seen him which was when Rick had dragged him into this cell about five years before. He still had the stubble on his face, but the cocky grin that you had gotten used to seeing through your scope was nowhere to be seen. 

“Have we met?” he asked, tilting his head in curiosity. You shifted slightly in your seat, trying to get comfortable. 

“Not officially,” you told him. “I’m (Y/N).” Recognition dawned on his face then. 

“Yes,” he said, sitting forward on the edge of his cot, “Little Miss Grimes has mentioned you before.” It wasn’t news to you that he spoke to Judith. Most people knew that she visited Negan often. The only person who probably didn’t know was Michonne. Judith had confided in you that she wasn’t scared of the man and that all she wanted was for him to know he wasn’t some kind of wild animal. You now started to realize that her reasoning was exactly why you were here. “So what can I do for you, (Y/N)?”

“I’ve been sent by the overlords of Alexandria to be your new best friend,” you explained, crossing one leg over the other. 

“Is that right?” he asked, leaning forward. “Gabe get too bored with little ole me?” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask,” you told him, “but I am here as a favor for Michonne so how about we just accept the new normal?” Negan bowed his head slightly. 

“Well then, what exactly do the big shots upstairs want us to do? Compare breakup stories? Organize a block party?” 

“I see you haven’t lost your wit,” you pointed out, leaning back in your chair.  

“We all have our things, (Y/N),” he said, “I am curious, though,” he went on, “where were you when your people were trying to kill all of mine?” 

“Usually on a rooftop,” you explained, “Grimes always had me up high with the guns.” Negan seemed genuinely thrilled by the thought of that. 

“And you never got me in your cross-hairs and took a shot? Damn, that is incredibly terrifying.”

“I was never ordered to,” you told him. “I was more surveillance than an assassin.” 

“Either way, my men never saw you watchin’ me,” he said and it sounded like a compliment. The way Negan was looking at you reminded you of kids staring at a lion in a zoo. Ironic seeing how he was the one in the cage and not you. Every glance was out of curiosity and you thought you noticed a bit of gratitude in his eyes. Perhaps Michonne and Gabriel were right after all. The man just needed someone to talk to.

“Okay, how about this?” you said, after a moment of silence. He waited for you to continue. “You and I are just gonna talk. You can ask me anything you want and I’ll answer and hopefully, you will return the favor when I want to .” Negan raised a single brow. 

“It’s that simple?” he asked.

“Do you want it to be difficult?” you asked. “I think I could add some really brash and annoying terms to the arrangement if you want."

"You are a very strange person," Negan said.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"As you should," Negan said with a cheeky grin. "However, I am curious about one thing. Don't you hate me?" You mulled over his words for a few seconds before shaking your head.

"Hate, it has caused a lot of problems in this world, but has not solved one yet," you quoted easily. Negan's eyes lit up.

"Morrison?"

"Angelou," you corrected.

"Ah," he said. "Wise woman. So what you're saying is that hating me isn't going to solve anything, am I right?"

"Pretty much," you agreed, crossing your arms.

"But I killed your people," he reminded you. Negan was clearly trying to put you off, but you had expected this. 

"And I killed your people," you said. "Do you hate me?" Negan scoffed, leaning back on his hands as he watched you through the bars.

"You're good," he complimented.

"You didn't answer my question," you said. Negan licked his lips before shaking his head.

"No, I don't hate you. Although, I don't even know you so that could change." This time you let out a quick laugh that was pure instinct at this point.

"Fair enough," you conceded.

"Alright, (Y/N), if you are so inclined to answer questions, answer me this: how did you end up with this merry bunch of survivors?" 

"Simple," you said, "I saved Carl Grimes from a Walker." Negan's face dropped at the mention of the late teenager. You knew about the soft spot Negan had for Carl. It wasn't a mystery, hell, Carl wouldn't have lived long after he attacked the Sanctuary if Negan didn't like him.

"You saved him?" Negan asked, pulling you from your memories.

"Yeah, I met Carl and his mom, Lori, shortly after everything happened," you began, "They, alongside other survivors, were camped at a quarry outside of Atlanta. I was on my own, trying to make it to the coast when I came across their campsite. I was wary of people, of course, but I knew I wouldn't make it far on my own. I stayed around the edge of camp for a while, just gettin' a feel for the people when Carl ran off when Lori wasn't looking. He was running around with another kid from the group." You paused, unsure if you should divulge much more, but Negan was staying entirely focused on your story.

"Carl was with Sophia...Carol's late daughter." Slight surprise entered Negan's eyes, but he remained quiet. You went on, "The two of them got turned around and then Carl being Carl, decided to run off alone without Sophia. He was near me when the Walker came out of the trees and grabbed him. I didn't really think at that moment. I just ran for the kid. I shot the Walker in the head and the next thing I know, I had a crossbow pointed at my back."

"Let me guess, Daryl?" Negan figured. 

"Damn right. Son of a bitch thought I was shooting at the kid, but luckily Carl spoke up and explained. They took me back to their camp and Lori insisted I stay so that's what I did."

"And here you are," Negan said, impressed.

"Here I am."

"That kid was pretty damn special," Negan said fondly. "This world really does take the good ones, don't it?"

"I always think that it would have been easier if a person had killed him instead of a Walker, you know? At least then we would have an enemy." 

"What, you don't think the Walkers are the enemy?" 

"They're just a part of the new world," you explained. "Can't really call them an enemy if they didn't intend to be here in the first place."

Negan was quiet again as your words sank in. In fact, you were surprised that he hadn't spoken over you whenever he got the chance. According to the rest of your friends and family, the man loved to hear himself talk. You stored that new observation away for later.

"In your opinion," Negan said slowly, "what kind of person classifies as an enemy, or rather, just evil?"

"I've seen darkness, Negan," you told him. "We all have and it was before we even heard your name. If you're trying to ask me if I think you’re evil, the answer is no, I don't. Most of us here like myself, Daryl, Michonne, we've all seen what happens when someone has lost all trace of humanity. Seen what they do to other human beings and trust me, those are the evil people of this screwed-up world. You haven't lost your humanity, Negan, and I pray you never will."

Negan leaned his forearms onto his knees, rubbing a calloused hand over his bearded face. Something had clicked inside his head, that much was apparent, but you weren't sure what.

Yet.

"Sounds like you've been through hell," Negan whispered.

"And back," you finished. "Multiple times."

"You gonna tell me that story? About the loss of humanity?" His question wasn't overly eager, instead, it was all curiosity and you were starting to think that was the main characteristic of the man who once called himself the "big bad wolf".

"One day," you nodded. "If you'll let me come back again."

"I get to decide?" he asked, intrigued.

"Yeah, no point in coming down here if you won't talk to me. That would be wasting both of our time."

"Then by all means, (Y/N), feel free to drop by," Negan said, spreading his arms wide in a welcome gesture. You rolled your eyes but nodded.

"If it means anything," you said as you stood from your seat and turned towards the door, "Carl once told me that you were the only person he always trusted to tell him the truth, and coming from him, that's a lot."

Negan looked at you for a long moment before bowing his head. "Thanks for that," he said softly. You gave him a small smile, one more out of understanding than anything. Whether people hated him or not, nobody could deny that he cared about Carl Grimes and that the teen's death had affected him as well.

"I'll see you tomorrow," you told him as you pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the sunlight. Negan didn't call you back as you climbed the steps and began walking home.

You watched as Alexandria spun on, unaware of the emotions that ran deep through you at the moment. Gabriel and Michonne had been right, after all, Negan needed to talk to another human being, but perhaps that was exactly what you needed as well and you had a feeling this was just the beginning of an odd relationship. 

TAGS: @thanossexual​

[ktheist]

saving grace | 3

muses. duke!yoongi x lady!reader

universe. arranged marriage / minor traces of magic in history

concept. driven into a corner with the new king, seokjin, offering to marry you off to a prince in a foreign land and a persistent mother who would seize the chance of a lucrative marriage for her daughter, you’re forced with the only other option to secure your freedom ‒ enter into a beneficial agreement with the man who reaped the seeds of war, the duke of cralon, yoongi min.

words. 5.3k

warnings. mentions of war, it’s cliche and cheesy all in one package

index. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / finale

x

yoongi doesn’t explicitly say it - and you don’t dare inquire as to the reason he’s accepting the circumstances forced into his hands but the more you ponder on it, the more the plausible answer seems to be the cause of your palpitating heart.

“we’ll attend the party together,” his breath had felt warm against the back of your hand but its the callousness of his touch that rooted yourself to the ground.

yoongi is doing this because he can’t let you ruin yourself. call it the gentleman in him. nothing more. nothing less. and because of that, you couldn’t allow yourself to be the one to rope him into a loveless marriage  in the name of politics when it’s been clear that he wants no part in this game of chess.

“leslie,” you speak into the darkness, fingers pulling on the strings that tie the cloak together.

“yes, my lady.” a figure steps out of the shadow in your periphery.

“i need you to pay a visit to the other informant guilds and see if they have something on what the nobles that are to attend my party, have been doing in the last three months.”

not like they’d have anything you don’t but you can’t rule out the possibility that they’d have even the littlest detail that could be of great help.

“three months, my lady?” leslie quizzes, you can’t see her face in the dark but you can just picture her blinking and cocking her head to the side at your prescribed timeline.

three months is a gamble but enough to establish a routine. whether it’s walking by the park everyday and then stopping to chat with a man in black from head to toe once on every 25th. or whether it’s for attending gatherings, only to keep the 16th fully empty.

“yes and prepare a carriage to go to the royal palace today.” with that, the shadow shifts as though bowing.

“i shall let felix know promptly. since you’ve just returned, would you like to take a short nap first?”

your gaze slants to the slightest gap between the curtains that you just slipped through, amber light pouring in a sharp stripe over the floor, “no, i’d like to take a bath and prepare for the day - did anyone come to my room while i was gone?”

“the madam came last night,” the maid informs, hands folding the cloak that she helped took of your shoulders, “but i told her you were sick and wanted to rest.”

“did she believe you?” walking over table, you plop into the chair with a sigh.

“she left after i told her you were asleep.” she disappears into the closet after you wave a dismissive hand, possibly to store the cloak in the secret compartment within the innermost corner of the walls.

knowing your mother, she probably saw through leslie’s lies but it’s not as if it’s the first time nor will it be the last. as long as you made sure to hide your face and avoid any rumors of count ___’s daughter’s sightings in the middle of the night in the rougher part of town, it’s fine.

x

a panting and disheveled jungkook bursts through the towering doors engraved with intricate carvings of a roaring lion and a crown. his eyes widens when they met yours like they usually as though seeing a ghost. you thought his timid nature would go away over time but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“lady ___!” he calls in a hurry after you walked past him and down the familiar hallway lain with blazing red carpet, “h-his majesty is busy! you have to give the palace a month’s notice for an audience before-”

“jungkook.” the abrupt twirl almost sends the boy smashing into you but he manages to stop just inches away, sighing a sigh of relief that only lives for a split second at your words, “his majesty ordered for the rumors to be spread.”

when you take one step forward, he takes another backwards, “you’re his closest aide so he must’ve told you to do it and not some ordinary maid-”

“n-n-no! i-” he sputters, eyes glancing over his shoulders as though seeking for a knight to call for help but the goddess must be in your favor today because no other soul can be seen.

you’re not sure what kind of face you’re making but you doubt it’s a smile but the fact that all colors seem to drain when he looks at you again must mean something, “it was lady jung! his majesty called for lady jung and after that, the rumors started spreading!”

“krystal?”

a sigh escapes the black haired boy when your feet roots itself into the ground. the jung family had been part of the aristocratic faction who tried to push for their daughter and krystal’s eldest sister to marry the crown prince, seokjin’s brother and heir apparent.

but only those who secretly swear allegiance to seokjin could attain an exclusive invite to the palace and jungkook had explicitly mentioned that it was seokjin who called her over, not the other way around.

“lady ___! please!” jungkook’s cries echo somewhere behind you, almost drowned by the series of questions that begin to flood your head.

“your majesty!” your hands ache from having to push through the oak doors after jungkook orders the knights to stand down at your arrival, which meant they had no obligations to announce your presence nor push the doors open for you, “you’re throwing yoongi and i into a cage full of wolves!”

“oh you two are calling each other by first names now?” the way seokjin's eyes glazes over you does nothing but pour oil to the flames burning inside your stomach, “regardless, i thought we agreed to cease this act of prancing around in the palace like you own the place.”

a thud echoes off the walls as your barely recovering hand slams down on his desk, but judging from how the stack of papers stood still, you doubted it’d made the desirable impact, “if you knew i was lying, why didn’t you call me out?!”

“i can’t say i didn’t fall for it in the beginning but weren’t you the one who told me that information can be gathered and used like a sword?” seokjin’s steel gaze settles on you like a blanket of winter snow.

“that...” thrown off by the your own words used against you, a pause lapses before you manage to speak again, “i may have made a mistake by involving yoongi but this ends here. call off the party i- i’ll marry the 12th prince.”

a scoff.

“to think you swore to be the shield you’re now holding against me because of that brute cousin of mine.”

“my promise remains the same,” you stand straighter, hit by the reminder of your ordeal, “i'll support you for as long as you stay a just ruler but not if you start a war within cearis by this reckless action of yours.”

his eyes bore into you for the longest moment, searching for a hint of your faltered promise. 

there is none. 

to think it would come to this. when you agreed to help seokjin become the king, you knew you have vastly contrasting ideals but the end goal was the same. to bring peace over cearis and end the previous king’s tyrannic reign.

the previous king hadn’t directly committed murder but the increasing tax rate had slowly caused the economy to be sucked dry. the people couldn’t even afford basic necessity and the rich buying wheat and grains and storing them with the intention to resell them once the price sky-rocketed. up until last year, only nobles were able to still live comfortably.

the thought of the hollowed cheeks, tattered clothing and skin and bones of the people in the streets whenever your carriage passed to get to the tea parties and gathering, still sends your body shaking with rage.

and if a civil war broke out between the two factions, history might repeat itself.

“i’d wanted you to rule by my side as my queen.” seokjin’s blunt confession causes you to almost stumble backwards, as though hit by an invisible brick.

“what-”

“but that’s simply absurd.”

he gingerly chuckles at your apparent reaction, “at least pretend to be disappointed ___, i didn’t want it too- the thought repulses me but since we’ve always been so much alike, we could at least make a political marriage work, right? but when you rejected me so directly, i couldn’t help but want to push you a little. i wasn’t going to go through the marriage with the 12th prince.”

“so all that trouble to get the duke to become my fake fiance... was because your fragile ego couldn’t handle being rejected by a woman?”  you force through gritted teeth.

“i-i didn’t say such a thing,” the king’s eyebrows furrow in undue frustration, face reddening, “plus it’s you, we’re talking about. how could i be-”

“your majesty...” a hiss slips out of your mouth, causing the man to physically flinch at the realization of how dire the circumstances are for him. for one there are no windows to avoid assassination attempts but also means he can’t escape you through any other way but the door - assuming he could get past you at all, “you’ve caused duke min and i a great deal of hardships. it’s something money alone cannot fix, do you not think so?”

“c-calm down, ___,” he begins to sputter whilst the table begins to turn, gaze thrown over your shoulder - perhaps, he’s calculating his chances of survival if he made a beeline to the door,“jungkook! jungkook, let him in!”

almost as if on cue, the muted thud of footsteps fill the air before the door swings open. you have absolutely zero interest if it was an assassin he’d prepared beforehand, knowing that you’d barge your way to the palace. with this distance, even an assassin couldn’t get-

“the house of min greets the sun of the kingdom.”

your heels twirl on their own before you even manage to register the deep voice that echoes off the falls, eyes landing on the owner of the silver locks that begins to straighten up after a bow.

“yoongi.” the man’s name falls off your lips involuntarily as he spares you a chiding glance. almost as though he’s not pleased with your rash decisions of meeting with seokjin without consulting him.

yet despite that, he comes to stand next to you, his hand brushing the back of yours. and in his own way, it feels as though he’s saying i stand with you.

the sound of someone clearing his throat brings you back to the matter at hand. seokjin seems to have regained a semblance of his composure. though, he fails to hide the rise of his eyebrows for the briefest moment at the unusually close proximity for two people who claim to feign being lovers. “as you know, the the min lineage has extraordinary senses. i summoned yoongi over to wait for me in the next room but your crassness has delayed the duke’s audience. and since the walls are thin, i don’t know how much he’s heard.”

your lips twitch in contempt.

it doesn’t take long for you to piece two and two together. no noble family has expressly supported seokjin and with the two aristocratic and royal factions’ internal division, you suspect another faction would rise in support of seokjin, the son who the late king never even spared a glance at.

having aided seokjin in the shadows since his time as an outcast prince, you were never told of the other families that shared the same shoes and chose to support him until the time is right to step into the light. you swore to be his shield and the min family had always been known to be the crown’s loyal sword.

you catch yoongi’s deep eyes before meeting the king’s,“so the min family is one of the noble families who supported you as well.”

it isn’t a question but seokjin nods anyway, his eyes now hold a sort of burden that ages him ten years, “i know your reason for supporting me are too far glaring and what i’m asking you requires a great sacrifice that’ll affect your children, but can i count on the two of you for this?”

x

seokjin meant you might actually have to get married to yoongi legally. at the engagement party, you’ll be showing up as supporters of the king and shift the unending feud between and within the factions. those who have been supporting seokjin in the dark will be your allies while those neutral, like what your house had appeared to be, will not need much convincing to join the new faction - the king’s. though, those who are against his forceful succession won’t stand still.

“it’s getting late so we should stop here but i’ll be visiting soon to finish our little talk, your majesty,” you didn’t miss the king’s shoulder line jolting as you shot up, letting a few seconds stretch in suspense before dipping into a formal bow.

“um, that’s quite fine. you don’t have to-” the man’s mouth clamped shut at the glare you shot over your shoulder before trudging out of the room, the click clack click of your heels bouncing off the walls while you faintly caught seokjin stammering out a plea for help to the only other person left in the room and receiving a ‘you dug your own grave with this one, your majesty’.

yet you couldn’t deny the agreeable course of direction you should take to single out the wild flowers from mere weeds being through a garden party. that’s where politics takes place and where one would usually work out connections. halting in your steps, you found yourself letting out a sigh, the chin you’ve kept so high now lowered to the ground.

after this, there will no longer be an aristocratic and royalist factions - only those who opposes seokjin and those who supports him. the first bunch would no doubt go after you and your family since they can’t touch the duke, if you got divorced within five, no - ten, maybe even twenty years of your marriage. though there have been politically arranged marriages that lasts for a lifetime. while some of the couples seem civil to each other, there would always be speculations of their happiness lying in the arms of their lovers outside of their marriage.

your parents are no exception. though they never quite opened up to you about their past or even present. the only time you ever recall your mother’s heart breaking was when the bells of the palace rang across the capital, signaling the previous queen’s demise.

“how could i not have noticed which faction he’s in...” you trail off, staring into the darkened ceiling where the chandelier would have been and the paintings of a great tree that symbolizes the foundation of your house.

“my lady,” leslie’s fluttery voice chirps from somewhere next to you “get up! today is the day for the duke’s formal visit!”

it’s been a week since your visit to the palace and having been driven to a corner yet again by seokjin. for some reason it didn’t bother you as much as the revelation of that the house of min had always been by the king’s side as a loyal supporter.

yoongi had escorted you to the carriage silently. and you would have left without exchanging a word if not for he gloved hand that grasps onto you tightly and the eyes that bores into your soul. almost imploring you to please, say something.

“since we’re pressed for time, i’ll have the contract sent to you to be reviewed in three day’s time,” was all you said.

your ankles are shackled with invisible cuffs. it takes everything in you not to drag your feet as you strut down the hallway with your chin high and shoulder line dignified.

“right,” you murmur to yourself, pushing yourself up only to have your hand dragged by the maid all the way to the bathtub where warm water has already been filled and waiting for you.

the other maids are already waiting for you with dresses in their hands and jewel boxes littered on your otherwise neatly kept vanity, chattering to themselves about how exciting it is for the only and eldest daughter’s official engagement. granted, your mother has been bugging you about the lack of rock on your finger when every other noblewoman would be showing off their engagement ring as soon as the news breaks out in high society.

but when you step out of the room, donned in an extravagant but elegant dress, you did not expect the overflow of people you’ve never seen before walking towards the main parlor that’s much larger than your mother’s and reserved for entertaining guests. the servants who seem to be carrying boxes and wrapped dresses bow at the sight of you.

“leslie, what’s all this?” you quiz the ever smiling maid on your side even though you have a good hunch already.

“these are the duke’s gifts to you, my lady.” there’s a certain tilt in her voice - the closest indication you’d get of leslie being excited.

“gifts?” you echoe.

the plan was for you to review the other’s contract, make necessary amendments and exchange them in secret.

that is, until yoongi sent a letter to your father, to notify his visit and ‘entourage’. but then again, the duke has always had a knack for downplaying important matters. otherwise, you would have caught on to where his loyalty lies.

before the maid could elaborate further, you’re already in front of the parlor and whisked away by your mother as soon as she sees you.

“___!” she grasps your hands tightly, “how i was mistaken about the duke. his grace was waiting for the siren’s heart to arrive from raefetia!”

colored diamonds are especially hard to get due to the different component and temperature required for its formation. the siren’s heart is said to be a rare jewel that was lost after the siren’s lover was killed on land and the diamond that was with him got sold in the black market.

how yoongi got a hold of it, is not entirely a mystery but the impact of the entourage he brought to your manner and the two jewelers who confirmed it to be the real siren’s heart will, without a doubt, spread throughout the kingdom within a week.

“are these all bought by the duke?” you manage to pull one of the workers who you’d confirmed to be from whitlace, into a corner when your mother is busy salivating over one of the many boxes of jewels that seem to sparkle and call for her.

“th-the duke ask for the jewels to be sent to my lady’s manor and pick whichever my lady’s heart desires,” the slight tremble at the mention of yoongi shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you yet it does. he just hasn’t been looking at you with eyes that could kill.

“is your manager here?” you don’t plan to let the woman be ridden with worry any more than she already is.

as soon as she leads you to a tanned woman with an elegant air around her and the finest jewels adorning her ears and neck, you know that it isn’t just the manager but countess wyvner herself who’d come here.

“lady ___, it’s an honor to meet your acquaintance,” she smiles, her deep brown eyes gleaming with a sort of observance fitting for a woman who runs one of the most high end jewelry store in the kingdom alongside her husband.

“countess,” you say after bowing, “thank you for preparing this on such a short notice.”

a slot itself needs booking at least for one month prior, you can’t imagine how much trouble and setbacks in their schedule they’d have to suffer because of yoongi’s whims. you’d only come to a realization that you’d have to legally marry each other last week. let alone have enough time to prepare for such grand proposal.

“on behalf of my husband and i, it’s an honor to serve the duke and future duchess,” she has a sort of pleasant tone that makes the lady in you listen to anything and everything she says.

you let out a low chuckle, “my, that does put me in a difficult situation.”

the countess blinks in surprise, “how so, lady ___?”

“you see, countess, i specifically asked for the duke to not spend so extravagantly for me,” you lament, a sigh escaping your lips, “as the money could have gone to charity work and helping those in need.”

“ah yes, the house of ___ has been well-known for their generosity since your father’s time,” she agrees, as though recalling a long-lost memory.

it takes several more praises and teetering over the fine line of offensive and modest before you can finally convey your wishes for the jewels to be brought back and as a compromise, the countess will leave only the best, hand-picked diamonds for you to at least look at.

not even five minutes after your conversation with the countess ends, the butler approaches you, informing yoongi’s arrival.

“alright, thank you aiden,” you dismiss the butler, eye skimming the mannequins and dresses piled into the room. whichever store these are from, you’lll have to deal with them later, “bring him to mother’s parlor.”

x

“your grace, thank you for coming,” you greet the man with a bow, noting how his eyebrows threaten to pull together at the title yet only silence follows your greeting.

neither of you say anything as the maid sets down the baked goods you requested to be made for this meeting. the smell of lavender fills your senses as you pour the drink into the white teacup with deep violet flowers engraved around them.

“your grace,” that is possibly the last straw when you see the man’s heavy frown, as though the first time might have been a mistake, but the second time couldn’t have been, so you let out a soft sigh, “i shall address you formally for what i’m about to say involves the state of affair of the kingdom.”

when no word of protest seem to come from the duke, you continue, “i trust your grace has read the contract and made the desired amendments on your part?”

as though recalling the purpose of his visit, the man’s eyes flit away from you. it’s expected for him to behave so, especially when all you’d agreed on at the beginning was a simple hoax to trick the eyes of the beholders. 

out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“that... yes.” he mindlessly mumbles, pulling out the contract from the inside pocket of his jacket and placing it in front of you in a manner that told you he couldn’t be bothered with it for a minute longer.

yet if that was truly the case, he could have sent someone to deliver the contract after the review instead of a notice informing you of his visit. the letters on the contract almost seem to blur together as you mull over his reasons for sitting through a one hour ride just to get here until you catch the insignia of twin dragons and a shield.

“your grace,” your heart almost jumps in your throat when you look up from the paper only to meet a pair of crimson ones that seem to already be staring, “none of the content seem to be modified. is there nothing you wish to add?”

contracts are made to give both parties an equal standings. you’d only included your terms which you made sure weren’t excessive but not potentially harming to you in an event there would be a talk of divorce in the future.

“no, there isn’t.” he answers simply, eyes reverting to the brownish golden liquid before hey flutter close just as he nears the cup to his lips.

all of a sudden, you’re brought back to the sunlit office of his. your hands had trembled and your heart had felt like a dead weight was pulling at its strings until the duke pulled you out of that darkened crevice and kissed the back of your hand.

the act alone had been reserved for lovers who’d sworn their souls to the other. but it’d also been done by noblemen in respect for noblewomen of higher ranking. but the fact that you were a mere count’s daughter and he was a duke rendered the latter interpretation null.

yet he’s acting so indifferently to you now.

“your grace, i implore you to take this matter seriously as it concerns not just the ducal house and ___ house but also cearis.”

no matter how prepared you are, there’s no telling what would happen once seokjin’s plan is set in motion. but even if you’re both nothing but chess pieces, your lives worth something. perhaps, yoongi hasn’t much to lose - but you’ve held out this long to avoid being tangled in an arranged marriage. you need a guarantee for your future and if yoongi refuses to pay his due attention-

“___,” the familiarity of your name rolling off his tongue is unsettling yet comforting at the same time, “isn’t everything that caters to your needs and wishes all in there? why are you displeased?” though the color of his eyes reminds you of burning flames, his gaze sends icy shivers down your spine. as opposed to the way he used to search for the secrets beyond the windows of your soul, this time, he seems as though he’s studied every crevice of it.

it takes you a moment to register that he’d read every line of the terms. and it isn’t a question needing mulling over nor do the flood of memories from your first meeting up until now, is unforeseeable. and you couldn’t help the little prick of betrayal that buries itself to the hilt in your heart,“did you know?”

his stare doesn’t falter. almost like a culprit brought to trial and knows of his innocence even though others don’t, “no- you know how secretive the king is but with the way you’d been behaving at the mention of him... i thought you’d been lovers instead of just subject and monarch.”

in other words, if yoongi knew - which he did have his suspcicions, it was because you’d exposed yourself. the realization hits you like a brick as you recall the many times you almost called seokjin by his name and the one time you actually did.

you figured he’d believe you when you said it was because of your house’s just upbringing but suspicions couldn’t just be shrugged off just like that.

“we’re not.” is all you say, your shoulders threaten to sag with the lifted weight yet the noble blood in you forces you to keep your chin up. those deep eyes bore into you. it’s no secret that even the seemingly indifferent duke of cralon would be curious of how you came to be acquainted with the king when he was just a prince.

truth to be told, it isn’t so much as a mysterious tale as it seems to be. your family’s territory doesn’t harbor fertile lands nor is it strategically situated near the shores for a harbor to be built and attract merchants. it’s a bit far off from the capital but not entirely suitable for planting corps either. and because your family’s refusal to join the royalist faction, the previous king had cut off the supplies and funds for your family’s territory.

your father had to buy food from merchants at a high price while you were in charge of distributing  them all to representatives of each family. in the midst of it, at the age of 16, you’d met seokjin. every time you’d see him, he’d donned the same tattered clothes that didn’t seem to fit his smooth, honeyed skin and noble mannerism.

you didn’t question his motives for always being there to lend another hand to distribute whatever supplies your father could get and leaving without accepting so much as a slice of bread. it was some few years later, after you’ve talked to too many people and remember too little of their faces, did seokjin finally told you about his lowly maid mother and the parents she’d left in pursuit of a job in the capital. it took another year for you to realize his high official dad was the king and by then, you’d sputtered far too many insults at the second prince in your fits of rage.

but if you’re being honest, it possibly had something to do with your mother’s tens of hundreds of letters addressed to the palace, pleading for the king’s good graces. she’d attended social gatherings to obtain funds for charities that went to orphanages, managed to allocate budgets for the supplies and still maintain an appearance fitting for a noblewoman. you did help with pointing out which house had the disadvantage you could use and which could be recruited under your fold but it was mostly your mother - a useless information that yoongi didn’t need to know.

“we started getting more supplies and to shift the suspicion of our family’s support leaning towards the new crown, seokjin started distributing more supplies to noble families of neutral standings,” the thought alone warrants a well needed pause as you sip on cold tea, “after he proposed to me and promised to make me queen, i tried my best to avoid letting the two meet especially at banquets held in the palace.”

“that bastard...” a sharp cracking sound hits the air as you watch the tea ripple within the small confines of the now cracked teacup within the duke’s grasp, “...really had the nerve to propose to you, huh.”

“well,” you set the cup on the saucer gently before standing up and walking over the man who watches you with a mix of curiosity as to what you’re doing and subdued rage for the king.

sitting down, you place your hand on his gloved one. it takes a moment  for him to realize the damage he’d done before he releases the poor ceramic and allow you to twine your fingers together. when you meet his gaze, it’s already soften with something you can’t pinpoint as you suppress the rising heat on your cheeks, “i believe seokjin was telling the truth when he said he was doing it because he had to. at that time, he most likely didn’t know of any other young ladies around his age though there’s no telling for sure just who and how many people was already under his folds,” the hard crimson stare does little to unnerve you though they still make your heart restless for a completely different reason now.

yoongi laughs dryly, almost like a swords mater defeated in his own game, “so we’re merely tools for his disposal.”

that, you can’t deny but no matter how deep you’d pondered on the man’s actions and how much you’d have to sacrifice-

“yet we still trust him like blind fools.” you say.

“fools won’t know what they’re getting into before it’s too late,” he rasps.

words of protest bubbles in your throat as his hand falls away from you but the way he stands up only to fall on his knee, makes your breath hitch.

“we’re no fools, you and i,” his eyes that capture you in a garden of red are glaringly contrasting to his fair complexion and naturally soft features, “___, i do not wish to be married to you only on paper.”

x

note. that’s all for the third chapter, hope you guys enjoyed it!

taglist: @ayujmi​