#AND WHY ARE YOU TRAVELING WITH A COPPER??? WE HATE COPPERS??????

[camellcat]

WTFFF I thought thirteen would be my new girl crush love of my life heart eyes wife you-came-after-twelve-you-must-be-better-than-they're-all-saying bbygirl and then I had to sit down and watch as she told a man who (if he were not a murderer, of course) literally every regeneration before her would've LOVED and FULLY SUPPORTED that "the systems aren't the problem. how people use and exploit the system, that's the problem. people like you" </33333 !?!?

[fadingsnow]

POISON - lord velaryon! aged up! LUCERYS VELARYON x f! reader (SHORT)

SUMMARY AND TW: Reader is Jacaerys' daughter and heir. A lot of hate towards Rhaena.. sorry lmao TW: nsfw (fingering).. i need him so bad, Divider Credits: @firefly-graphics

His hoarse voice rang out against the walls of his and his wife's chambers, rough hands grabbing your thighs eagerly as you found a good place to sit, his lap.

"If only I would be rid of this farce marriage, tala- (niece)."

Your constant efforts to entice him more were starting to get to him, only a few moons ago, had you finally captured him in your grasp, or rather he had.

"Rhaena is a good woman, but not the one that I want." His eyes fluttered slowly, almost falling into a sleeplike look.

"Then, who might it be, Kepus? (Uncle)" You murmured in his ear, putting small kisses under it, knowing how it would make him even more reactable.

"I heard Lady Lannister has been a little eager now to take Rhaena's place, even said she wouldn't mind being your little whore."

"I already have someone in that place, don't I? My sweet niece, my little cock drunk whore. Don't even need to pay you four coppers to get you down on your knees, praising your Kepus (Uncle)."

You let out a small gasp at the carelessness of his words. It certainly had your thighs wrapping harder around his waist, and the throbbing inbetween them harder to ignore.

"I wonder if I placed my fingers in that tight cunt of yours that always seems so enticing, how easy it will be to make you come all over my hand. How about this? For each time, you cum without me letting you, each time I fuck my wife."

He lazily grinned at you, his curls falling to the side of his face. He knew Rhaena was a sore spot for you, you were always jealous at the mention of her, if only you were be able to be called lady Velaryon.

You narrowed your eyes at him waringly, your movements stopping slowly at his words. You and Lucerys usually played around, except you always were reluctant to even speak Rhaena's name during your.. visits. It felt rather disrespectful since she was still your aunt due to your mother being Baela, but you couldn't help but feel vigor from Lucerys fucking you instead of her. And well, you didn't exactly want him to actually proceed with his marital duties towards her, so you let what he said pass your mind.

"Perhaps. Only if you are able to do it, a person might believe with the way you're groaning against my neck, you might release your seed immediately." You smiled at him sweetly, your words the complete opposite from how you looked at him.

Lucerys' hand slowly pulls up your skirt, as his other hand travels to your thighs, trying to look for a piece of clothing, but then his eyes look up back to yours, surprise clouded his features. His lips pursed together, before he asked you.

"You came to me, bare naked?" His voice came out teasing, biting his lower lip.

"Well.." Your voice trailed off, a little embarrassed at your action. You weren't exactly sure why you had dressed in such way, you usually liked it when he took off your smallclothes, his teeth grazing against your thigh as he slid them off, then going to press his tongue against your cunt, making you moan too loudly.

"No need to be nervous, tala (Niece). It is only us in this room." His grip on your thighs tightened, his hips bucking a little against you. "After all, we are the only people that ever entered here, right?"

You could hardly breathe, as warm breath hitched in your throat. As your legs wrapped around his hips once again, you closed your eyes, trying to focus solely on him. When you opened them again, you found his eyes looking right into yours, a soft smile gracing his features.

His fingers slipped inside your entrance, making you arch your hips upwards, your arms hanging limply by your sides. The feeling of being penetrated completely by another made you shiver with excitement. His fingers worked their magic, rubbing against your clit, causing you to cry out in pleasure, his thumb pressing against your nub.

He kept his gaze focused on you, watching as you writhed beneath him. Slowly, he moved his fingers within you, the friction causing you to whimper, unable to stop yourself from doing so. You bit your lip, as his tongue dipped down, licking his way up towards your breast, kissing softly on its peak.

You let out an unsteady giggle as he continued to rub against your nub, his eyes closing close, a smile appearing on his lips as his fingers kept circling your wet core.

His other hand grabbed at the upper part of your dress which confined your breats, which he tugged and let loose. His eyes were blown wide at the sight of your breats, his mind already knowing what to do. Your breathing increased, your nails digging harshly into his shoulder blades as he started sucking on your nipples. You could barely hold back your moans, your inner walls squeezing tightly around his finger tips, and it seemed like you lost all control of the situation when he grabbed onto your leg, dragging it closer to him.

"Please, Lucerys, just let me-"

"Didn't know my little princess wanted me to give Rhaena my heir so bad?"

You gripped his hair tighter as his hand slid between your folds, his fingers finding purchase against your folds. You cried out louder as your walls squeezed and pushed against his digits, his fingers pushing against your walls gently at first, before increasing the pace and increasing the pressure of his fingers. His thumb pressed against your sensitive opening, which made you squirm and gasp loudly. It also brought tears to his eyes at the sound of your cries. He licked your nipple quickly, sucking it hard into his mouth.

Your breath became heavier, your body quivering against his touch, begging for more. He kept his pace slow, wanting you to catch up, wanting you to become overwhelmed, yet wanting you to climax soon. As soon as your orgasm began to build, your hands dug into his shoulders, pulling on his hair lightly, moaning louder than ever before. His fingers curled into your walls, pushing inside deeper as you released your scream, your head tossing backwards. His fingers pumped furiously, filling you up completely and leaving you trembling, your eyes rolling backwards as the final shudder wracked through you. His mouth remained glued to your breasts, his head hung low as you panted heavily, your legs weak at the knees. He kept his hold on your legs, bringing one of them around his waist, keeping it there for a moment until you managed to stand upright with a grunt. Once you did, he wrapped both of his arms around your torso, holding you close as you sat on his lap panting.

"If it gives you any reassurance, tala (Niece), you are much better then Rhaena." He brought his fingers to his mouth, slowly sucking on the white substance that was still currently dripping out of you. He directly looked at you, licking his fingers with no shame.

"Sweeter then her too."

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

1: Journey

Heal my Wounds

journey/kidnapping/ambushed

Warnings: None yet :)

Here we gooo, it’s July! Time to ruin the other brother’s life as well :)

For a synopsis and overview of future warnings, visit the masterlist.

Masterlist | Next

“Don’t call me Fifi!” 

Josephine had mumbled it through grit teeth, so the nyvi on the cart next to her wouldn’t hear her. It didn’t seem like Anka was listening, their nose stuck in a book and a pile of notes, but she didn’t want to take any risks. The quarrel between Valadan and her was childish enough, it shouldn’t affect the other members of the group.

She kept her gaze straight ahead, not giving this insufferable asshole the satisfaction of seeing the annoyance in her eyes. She had heard many variations of her name in her life, but this was by far the worst. Every time Valadan called her by that silly nickname, she wanted to strangle him.

“Sure thing. Fifi.”

Strangle him and then dump him in one of the many small canyons they passed on their way through the lower mountains. She hated that he and his mercenaries had been assigned to her little group of researchers. Why did they even need an escort in the first place? It wasn’t like they were going anywhere dangerous. In fact, Valadan’s behavior had been the only trouble on the journey so far. 

A portal to the other side of the world, then a five day trip from the city to their destination. The weather had been nice, beautiful even. A clear, blue sky, the temperature not too hot and not too cold. It was late summer, the meadows and forests a deep green, overshadowed by the distant mountain tops, powdered with white. What a stark contrast to the remnants of a murky winter they had left behind.

Any other time, Josephine would truly have enjoyed the view. As it was, it only served to anchor her gaze, pointedly ignoring Valadan until he grew bored, wandering away to bother someone else. She didn’t know what his problem was. Authority figures, perhaps, or women, or women in authoritative positions. Maybe all of it.

Her problem was him. She cast a glance in his direction, talking and laughing with his mercenary buddies, two dozen steps behind the rest of the group. All three of them were clad in light leather armor, though he was the only one who had dyed it dark, almost black. It was a nice contrast to his slightly tanned skin and his copper hair, shimmering in the sun. Josephine assumed that he was very aware of that.

Unlike Valadan, the other two were carrying weapons — one a short sword, one two axes. When she had asked him about it, he had told her that she’d have to get to know him better if she wanted to see his sword.

It was a shame that such a nice ass was attached to such an asshole. 

Determined to not let him ruin her day fully, Josephine left her spot next to the covered cart and jogged to the front of the group. Two of the others were walking there, engrossed in conversation. The lead researcher, a human called Marian, and one of the two human brothers — Tassilo, probably. Seeing him only from behind, Josephine had trouble telling them apart. They were both copper skinned with dark brown hair, and while one was half a head taller, that didn’t help her much when the other wasn’t around. Pascal was more likely to wander off, though, only to come running half an hour later, hopping on the cart to sort through a bag full of specimens.

As Josephine came closer, Marian turned around, raising her hand in greeting, a broad smile on her face. In the light of the midday sun, her red dress seemed to glow in contrast to her dark brown skin. Somehow she had managed to keep the skirts in pristine condition, despite the five day travel through uneven terrain. Even though Josephine had the official lead, it was Marian who would oversee the excavation and studies. She had never worked with her before, but so far Marian had proven to be pleasant company.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Josephine said. “What were you talking about?”

“Oh, you know.” As he turned around to nod at her, she could see that it was indeed Tassilo. “Earth mage stuff.” There was an amused glimmer in his brown eyes. No wonder; the previous night, Josephine had fallen asleep while listening to the two of them comparing the properties of two completely identical looking stones.

“Think we’ll make it before nightfall?” Josephine asked.

“Oh, for sure,” Marian said. “I’d say two, three hours at most. We’ll have plenty of time to set up camp, perhaps even get acquainted with the whole area.” Her golden eyes shone with excitement at those words. “Do you think the stones really do move?”

Josephine shrugged. “That’s what they said. And that’s what we’ll find out.”

In this area, the stones were moving. The few scared wanderers hadn’t given the Order much more than that to go on. It could mean anything; magnetism, earthquakes, magic or more sinister things.

Okay, perhaps there was a valid reason to have some mercenaries with them. 

Tagging: @dont-touch-my-soup​ @whumpshaped​ @whump-in-the-moonlight​

[caliciumbaby]

You're the sweetest of them all, and yet you stay so divine.

For my Cherry

My love for you had no bounds, my mind, body and soul belonged to you.

And yet you spit me out, time and time again. You ruined and drained me so completely, yet I still loved you. The sweetest of them all, yet left the sourest of tastes.

Do you remember when I came over, and made you dinner, because you were alone and sick in bed so many times? Do you remember how you, Cherry, loved my big, old jacket because it was so large on you? You wore it so much, a tear appeared at the side of the left sleeve. I still have it to this day.

Do you remember all the forbidden kisses we shared? The times I would go crazy from kissing you so much, the times I would die, just for you to tuck your head in my neck.

I don't think you do.

Or, did.

Lips red as wine, eyes bright and brown, hair copper and unruly. Freckles doted on every single spot on your body. I tried to count them so many times, yet got lost each and every single time. You were the epitome of my ending. Those were my memories of you, now—they're reduced to fire and ash.

You said that you wanted to experience and travel the world with me, and I promised you we would. I wasn't the best at keeping promises back then, and so you shook your head, and smiled with that big dimple of yours on your right cheek showing, and looked down, whispering the only words I seem to remember of your voice—

"'Explore the world, embark on a journey and live.' Those were my grandmothers last words that I remember. And I want to live by them."

But you lied. Not about the words she told you, you lied about living by the rules.

The scar you made on my skin, wasn't visible to anyone but myself. When you left, a part of my heart left. This isn't even supposed to be cliché, but it truly felt like a part of me died that day.

Now, it's been 3 years after you've been gone. And it hurts for me to say it, but I'm getting better. I know your biggest fear was to be forgotten and left behind, and it hurts me to admit it, I want to forget you. I want to forget your touch, your beautiful voice and every single memory that comes with it.

But the one thing I will not let myself forget, is the words you told me.

At the time, they had vague meaning to me, only adding it to the number of beautiful things you said. I wasn't really big on reading and writing as you were. You loved books, had your entire wall in your room dedicated to them even. You would let me lay my head on your chest, and keep the book on my head to read. I would purposely move just a little every few minutes, so you could pinch my sides and tug on my hair. You acted like you were annoyed and hated it, but the stupid little grin on your face wouldn't leave when you tried to hide it with your book, when you knew I would do it over and over again.

That's why I want to forget you.

It feels so selfish of me to say all of this, yet still find my longing for you day and night.

I genuinely believe that you were my soulmate, my partner and my best friend all in one.

And for that, you will be remembered as the most kindest person, the most patient girlfriend and the epitome of the sun. Warmth and comfort truly were your thing.

My Cherry.

[mrminority]

Copper Elm 07/02/23

“Are you sure about this Nya?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“You know you don’t have to go in there if you don't want to.”

“I know Mom.”

“Okay, kiddo. I’ll be in the car. Text me when you’re on your way out.”

“I will Mom.”

Once she finally walked away, the dread washed back over me. I stood at the doors of the Copper Elm Nursing Home and I felt the reaper’s presence. It only takes one trip down the halls to wear out someone’s empathy. I feel tired each time I visit, watching people hobble around and slowly wither away.

These people were dying, and it wasn’t just their bodies, but their minds. This place was like a fire station. People would drop off their orphaned kid, turn around and never look back. That’s probably how he feels. They were alone, not even being able to keep themselves company.

I’d hate to die there, which is why I came to Copper Elm in the first place: I didn’t want my dad to die alone.

I checked in at the receptionist's desk and made my way to a small living area with a lone table, a small retro tv that looked more like a box than a television, and a bookshelf with several WWII novels. I pulled out a chair and waited, twiddling my thumbs as that feeling of dread crawled back into my skin.

I don’t know how Dad got this way. I don’t even know how much I knew about him. What I did know was that this could be my last chance to see him again. He's in no shape to travel and I’ll be on a plane to Connecticut for the fall. This is my last chance. No, this is his last chance.

I’m sure everyone is familiar with divorce. I doubt anyone isn’t. You either were a divorced kid or knew a divorced kid. The problem with my family’s divorce is that I didn’t know who the bad guy was. At first, I thought it was my Mom. I remember having to leave the house in a hurry as she threatened to call the police. My sister Nia stayed behind, not wanting to leave her by herself. There are times I wonder what would have happened if I stayed with them instead of him.

For the months after it was as if I were drafted into a war with my father as the general. We were in the fight against tyranny that was my mother trying to reclaim custody or her two daughters, custody I felt she had no right to. She forced us to sell the house. She got a boyfriend that I hated and blamed everything for. I even found her with a cigarette in hand and alcohol to the side.

I want to say Dad made a villain out of her, but the truth was I did. The war finally ended with my father winning custody, but his health had taken a toll. Once again, I don’t know if he didn’t have access to healthcare or refused. He’s a proud man, something I came to learn when my Mom took her supposed enemy to the hospital and brought refuge to her treacherous daughter.

I couldn’t apologize enough for hating her for so long. We’re in the process of healing, but I missed out on so much because I was Dad’s proud little soldier. I still don’t know the full story, but I know that he wasn’t the perfect leader.

I had been waiting for some time now, just twiddling my thumbs like a jackass. I figured he’d keep me waiting. Unlike the other poor folks here, he was still of “able” mind. He’s not dead at least. No. That’d be too easy.

I was about to get up and walk over to his room, breaking his door down and demanding for him to go see his daughter. Just as I stood up, I heard the sound of my dad’s walker slowly making its way through the hall. The forceful thrust of whatever a walker is made of into the carpet floor echoed in my head. It was his Imperial March, and the dread sea turned into a storm.

I sat up straight and fixed my shirt, then, just as quickly, slumped down and untucked it. As he finally rounded the bend, I saw his face for the first time in ages. He didn’t look worse. He didn’t look better either. He looked just as I expected, maybe just as he deserved: old and sad.

He took his time, perhaps deliberately, to sit down. Setting his walker against the wall, he placed one of his hands against it and the other on the table, easing himself into his seat. He lost balance a bit, but I made no move to help him. I just sat and waited.

There was a long moment of silence between us. Both of us were just staring at the floor, unsure of our next move. Dad broke the silence when he, without ever looking up, asked, “Where’s Nia.”

“She’s with Mom,” I said, looking up.

“Figures,” he chuckled, still staring down. It was a painful laugh. Brief but painful. Somehow, I could tell that was the first time he smiled in a long while, and it wasn’t even of joy.

After another long pause, he said, “You never called.”

“Well Dad,” I began. “When you want the fish you don’t cut the line.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what that means,” I snapped.

That got him to sit up. He looked at me with scorn, scorn so familiar. “Don’t you get smart with me Nya. I didn’t drag myself out of bed for you to have an attitude problem.”

“I could say the same thing, Dad. I didn’t choose to stop talking to you. You did.”

“I stopped calling ‘cause you went on vacation with that fucking cracker Bill.”

“You told me to have fun, and that’s what I did. I didn’t expect you to get upset by that.”

“No, I was upset you went wi-”

“Yeah, I know Dad. I know.”

His look of scorn turned murderous. That face used to scare the shit out of me. That was the “you fucked up face”. There were times when that face was needed. Yet he started to use that more and more and I learned to recognize when his look was for instruction or control. Not this Dad.

“Don’t interrupt me Nya. Don’t disrespect your father!” He spat.

“No, you don’t interrupt me. You don’t disrespect me. You, for the first time in our years as father and daughter, you will listen to me.”

“Nya, I have listened to you,” Dad claimed. “You had everything you ever wanted right? We went to the toy store so much when you were kids that you memorized the route and turned your little heads like signals.”

He allowed himself a brief moment to reminisce. He laughed, though I am not sure what for. “You had it pretty good.”

I nodded. “I did, but that doesn't mean it was perfect.”

“Oh, what? Have I become a problem to you now?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Oh, okay. So I guess all those late nights of proofreading your book reports, talking to your teachers, taking you to UIL, and going to the movies every week were all just problems. Not to mention the expensive shit I bought you. That’s a big problem right there.”

“Of course, those weren’t problems Dad.”

“I know they weren’t problems,” he said. “I did everything a parent should have and now I’m getting shit on.”

“No! You did everything a parent should have. You did what you were supposed to. Aside from, you know, doing what every parent does, you were a great dad. The problem was that you stopped.”

I briefly waited for his response before continuing, reminding myself not to stop. “Ever since your diagnosis you’ve become, I don’t know, just different. Distant.”

“You used to be so happy,” I sighed. “You always cracked the worst jokes.”

“Well, I’m sorry my humor hasn’t been up to snuff Nya. The jokes kinda stop coming when you’re in a goddamn nursing home!”

He grabbed his knees, bending his head down as he rubbed his legs. “I’m in pain. I’ve been in pain for so long.”

“I know. The problem is your pain became infectious. It amplified your worst traits. It made you angry and stubborn. You couldn’t accept that you needed help or that you could be wrong. Anytime I did, it was the silent treatment.”

“Silent treatment?” he asked. “Are you accusing me of ignoring you?”

“I’m saying that’s what you did. That’s what you’re doing!” I said. I could feel tears forming as my anger boiled. I always got very emotional. I used to try my best to hold it in, thinking it would reduce my argument to shambles. Now I'm holding them back because I’m not finished yet.

“I’m leaving Dad, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again. As far as we both know, this will be the last time we see each other.”

“So why’d you come then?” he asked. “Clearly you’re displeased with how I mistreated you. So why come back to me, huh?”

I didn’t say anything yet. I was too busy clenching my jaw bracing myself for his next words.

“Is this your last stand?” he asked, eyes wide in mock fear. “Is this where the great hero slays the mad king?” Dad lifted out his arms, beckoning to be struck down. “Go ahead Nya! I’m waiting!”

“I want you to be my Dad again, dammit!” I yelled.

Mock fear quickly turned to surprise and my Dad put his arms down. He turned his head, still stern, but finally listening.

“When Mom told me you weren’t going to call anymore, I cried. I just got back from vacation and now my dad won’t talk to me.” I finally let the tears rush down my face as I continued my declaration. “I wasn’t upset because I felt like I wronged you. I know I didn’t. I was upset that you wronged me.”

I tried to wipe the snot from my nose with my sleeve before it reached my mouth, but that just spread it even more. I hate when that happens. Why does sadness have to taste so depressing? I shook it off and continued. “I was sad because the reality of you dying alone was getting dangerously close to becoming true. I don’t want to lose you. Not when we lost so much time together.”

My dad remained silent. I couldn’t tell what his thoughts were. He wasn’t angry or confrontational. He just sat, lost in something. He wasn’t empty of feeling, but I didn’t know what feeling he was in. We remained there for some time like this, neither of us was sure what to say next.

When my eyes finally dried and my nose clogged, I said to him “Anyway, that was my ‘last stand’. Take care, Dad. You call me.” I hurriedly got up to leave. That may have been the most honest I’ve ever been with my dad, but I was still scared of his possible response. I guess I wanted to ask the question, but wasn’t ready for the answer.

Before I made it too far across the hall, I heard my dad call out, “Nya, wait!” I turned to see him struggling for his walker. I rushed back to help him. He raised a hand to wave me aside, but then decided against it, letting me help him up to his feet.

“I was trying to walk over to you. Save you the trouble.”

“There’s always trouble Dad.”

“Yeah, there sure is,” he replied, hugging me close. I was caught off guard before I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. We stood there for a while. A good while.

“I’m sorry Nya, Dad said, letting me go. “You gave me a lot to think about. Listen, I’ll call you when you land in Connecticut, alright?”

I smiled. “I’ve still got time. Why not talk some more now?”

[grad601-dp2a]

TRANSCRIPTION OF FUENTAS INTERVIEW

Where did you grow up and what was it like? Key events

Me and my family grew up in the capital, Santiago, super busy; but Me and my family moved a lot.

In Chile, in South America and other third world countries, they work so hard, that my mum was working all day. And we were just growing up with a babysitter as my mum was working all the time, to provide us with education and all our needs. But we didn’t have the opportunity for holidays, travel or tramping as it was just too busy.

My mum was a single mum, and I had a stepdad. And we relocated to northern Chile. A 24-hour drive. There was a copper mine area, the town was completely different, a small town, everyone knew each other. 

You saw the dramatic changes in the lifestyles, everyone in the town knew each other, and you were going to school with the son of the mine owner. So, you saw the different class systems. Had a sense of another reality. In Chile if you have money, you have a good education, it’s not like New Zealand where it's equal. That’s how it works.

About Stepdad:

I remember my stepdad was a mechanic, and engineer, very practical and hands-on. He was hard with me. I would try to go and play with my mates, but he would be like nah if you’re not getting a score of 80 or above you’re not going out. So, I would be really excited to get these math tests. I hated it at the time, but I remember in the class I was getting pushed as I was getting top in class. 

Even when I graduated, he would check me and 

Yeah looking back, he was really tough but I definitely believe it helped me so much with my work ethic. 

He grew my love for cars. I used to watch him fix cars, and help him out, I would observe, and he would get me involved. We did a cool project and create a 1957 Vespa from three broken ones, sanded, painted and prepared everything from scratch. That was our project together. He was always into welding and hands-on activities which I can now apply and use.

Do you think your mum being working hard and your dad pushing you has helped shape you?

Of course, it helped. All this stuff is them. All the things I know and learnt I did from them. But being grown and looking back it now makes sense. And it’s like Woah that’s why. 

For example, he’s the manager at a mining company. 

And he sent all my brothers and sisters to work office jobs but put me into work with the technicians. I hated it at the time, but when I moved to New Zealand that works experience, though I didn’t know it, gave me the experience which helped me to land a job. 

 More than that the classes at school are assigned to the social level.  

My mum was working hard and did private lessons which enabled the opportunity to land her a job at a private school where we could then go and become educated. I still remember nights when she would head to the grocer after we work two jobs the reduced prices on all food items.

 It’s all about how you think about the situation. You can view it like oh man this sucks, why am I doing this, but a lot of situations or events especially if they are out of control can be for you, shape you and grow you. You just have to trust the process and look at it with an open perspective.

What is Chile like for people who don’t know?

Chile is long, so you get a range of different weather. It ranges from the bottom being cold similar to Queenstown, while the capital and above is desert and, cool flowers.

Political Situation:

I feel privileged to grow up in Chile and then move to NZ to see the two different situations. The political situation isn’t good, the government taking money and taking advantage of people. Corruption in the background and taking a lot of money. People fighting against the police and deaths are quite often.

It is really hard for poor people to have the opportunity to grow. People that know each other stick to themselves, it's super closed off. Everyone stays together. So it's really hard to get a job and build your way up. It's all connections.  For example, in the mines, there would be a group of people with all the same last names as they hire each other and help each other out.

Poor people can do it but it's hard

The middle class is working really hard to pump the economy, but you in a cycle of working two jobs, to gain an education. 

 Travelling to NZ:

Coming to New Zealand put me in a position where there’s no one here… I needed to grow a lot as it wasn’t my environment. In 5 years I have grown like crazy. 

What are the things you learnt the most when moving

It’s not as easy as you think it is. I thought I was young and educated, I got it. But I went to apply for jobs and they would shut the door in my face.

The salary conversion from Chile to New Zealand was massive as well, so I was scraping by off peanut butter and bread for two months before I landed myself a job. Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, Snacks.

 From a young age, I was exposed to so many things. I was hospitalised with a coma, and I was 17, 18 so when I came out I believed I was blessed and had a second chance to do something better. 

So it was like man, what are you doing, you know.” And having that experience at a. Young age made me start focusing on other things. Not parties, girls but put it into perspective about what I wanted - even though it wasn’t clear I became super ambitious to get more and was excited to realise this stuff you know.

But I’m grateful that life has put me into situations that help me so much.

At the same time, it's a good experience to grow in, this stuff is challenging, but that’s why you need to be grateful, its really easy to get into a bad mindset, but you have to remind yourself that you are blessed to have such a great opportunity., and good stuff happening as well. It’s where you are putting your focus, thoughts and energy.

Where have you travelled, what’s your favourite place, and were you always curious to always travel and leave Chile? Where did that curiosity come from?

I have travelled to Peru and a little bit of Chile. I left home at an early stage I was 22. Finished studying and came straight to New Zealand.  I didn’t like the systems n Chile, like the economy. We always had the best but my family wasn’t around which I didn’t like much. That's inspired me to see other realities in other parts. Which inspired me to leave home. It's tough but when you are outsides of your comfort zone you grow so much. Coz you are by yourself. 

I've met so many people, so no regrets. NZ is really beautiful, it's so beautiful and I don’t think people realise how lucky they are. Chile is similar but it is super dirty and wild. Rubbish on the beach people smoking. The government looks after and maintains NZ so well.

Where would you like to go when Covid is finished?

I would like to travel around South America, I've travelled more around NZ than South America.  I would like to see different spots around Peru, including the desert. We have a mountain with 7 different colours. It's so fascinating, and so much good stuff that’s super affordable. 

I would also love to go to Europe

I know for myself that moving away from home and day mother has been hard at such an early age? How did you feel like that process was for you and have you learnt anything throughout it?

It’s a hard decision, you miss birthdays, Christmas, and dinners - all things you miss being a part form. But that’s the sacrifice. You don’t realise how lucky you are that you have a phone you can call your mum. But at the same time, you must see why you’re fighting for. Do you want a career, do you want money, do you want a family. But at the same time, they all come to /

I think when you get older you start appreciating different things too. When you were younger and playing you get frustrated when you must go have dinner with your parents but now, I would pay money to have dinner with my mum. Just like that.

Now if I was to go back home, I would stay at home. I wouldn’t go out if she goes to the supermarket I’ll go to the supermarket. When you’re an adult you realise how important things are. Everyone has their priorities and that’s fine. 

I’m missing time with my family, but I know everything happens for a reason. If I never changed I wouldn’t have known and met all these people.

Do you think there’s a way to balance career and family well?

That’s a tricky one I’m struggling and figuring that out at the moment. You can make yourself so busy to have that balance. If I go back home that’s a 15hr flight and a day change. 

My mum now is going to retire soon so I think she will come to visit and bring the family along too. 

What about in your daily routine how do you make time?

There was a stage when I left home, I left and I was fighting with my family a lot. I realised later on that that’s not what I wanted. Back then I was contacting them twice a week and now I think I realised my mum is one of my best friends. She helps me and supports me and is encouraging me to do stuff, she’s almost like my assistant and truly doing it for love. 

I call her at least every two days, just catching up and doing projects together. It's cool being able to include her in my life and work. Who knows you better than your mum, she’s been dealing with you since she’s been changing your nappies.

How long have you been plant-based?

I've been plant-based now for 4 years. I was a massive meat eater, but I love nature and water and when I went free diving in Chile I found rubbish, just rubbish at the bottom of the ocean. It was really bad…. Like mannnn. But you don’t know where your money is login and where your rubbish goes, what you're putting in your body, the ingredients what happens in the background. Just doing unconscious stuff.

Just eating processed food, no greens but now I eat, greens, spinach, kale etc. I'm not a vegan that is gonna try and fight you but I go try my own beliefs and I just pursue what I think is adding value to my life. 

 Why I started doing this is because I started cutting my plastic and cutting my rubbish. People say groceries are so expensive but I'm saving so much money. I'm buying in bulk and travelling to different places to source my food. A local farm, veggie market, and different whole food stores. It also helps me be more conscious about where my money goes. Instead, of putting my money into supermarkets all owned by the same person. I spend a little more money on local farmers who have more nutritious tasty food, putting pocket and putting food on a family plate.

When you cut the plastic, you start cutting out the processed food. Because most processed food comes with plastic. I used to struggle to wake up with alarms and was defeated already.

But when I started eating better, I started feeling better and performing better. It's all a domino effect.

Where could someone start with being plant-based?

It's all about what’s driving you. People think change is fast from one side to another, Your body and mind need time. I'm a huge fan of baby steps. You're never going back, for example.

What’s driving you. If you wanna be vegan ask why. If you want to do it you can do baby steps that go with your values. With your diet and your lifestyle. Once you realise how you feel when you change your diet you won’t want to stop.

People think life is like a taxi but they don’t know where they are going. You don’t have a clear direction where you're going you get lost along the way. Intentions and affirmations remind you where you're going and what you're aiming for…. Talking about meditations I was sometimes meditating and when at peace you can see clearly. When the water is calm you can see what’s going on.

What would you say key habits are that you would recommend? To be at peace, motivated and having a good life?

Life not gonna be easy or all sunshine and rainbows. But I think you have to have small wins. A lot of people are driven through feelings, but you have to train your mind. Your body will tell you to stay in bed don’t meditate and stay there. Your mind will push you to achieve good stuff. Small wins and be aware of them, give yourself credit. High Five yourself with your wins and small achievements.

Knowing what you wanna do and not going back  Even if it's a small goal take baby steps.

Work hard. Coz if you know what you want to do work hard, don’t people please or worry about what others think. Just do you and show up with the things you enjoy.

I like to think about if it was my last day, and what would I want to be doing on the day of my death.

Even today if you want to read a book. Just read two pages. Don’t read the whole book. Just get those two pages done and your progress. Just showing up.

What's in the future for you?

I want to be more aware and more present. Around the people that add value to my life, and investing in myself. It's the best investment. 

Some days life is beating you so hard but you just got to stand up, brush it off and move on. If you can be driven without people pushing you no one cans top you. 

I think that is important as well if you are comfortable and pushing your limits you can achieve something you didn’t realise you can. Now your increasing your limits every time and expanding your thinking. You can do something you couldn’t imagine.

I'm ambitious not gonna lie I'm ambitious. But not in a bad way. But what is your ambition? It's not about getting rich. I want to get better because I know people around them are gonna get better because of it. If I can support my family and mum, If I can tell her you can stay wherever you are, have your own house and live rent-free. 

If you would like to communicate one thing or let people know something from your life:

When people you love have the success I'm so happy for them. When I see them and they’re doing well it's like I'm winning. It's such a good feeling if you can help/support people and see them win, there’s no better feeling. Leave interactions with people better off. Leaving good energy and making an impact.

That's why I think it's so important to focus on yourself because if you work on yourself, you impact and influence people around you. If you grow everything around you is going to get benefits. Working on yourself is the best way you can help people. But it's also the hardest.

[jackoshadows]

I'm not an "American  First" (and maybe because I read science fiction) I'm a "Terran First".  I'm a human being first. And I have this sympathy for other human beings  no matter what side of the giant ice wall they happen to be born on. - GRRM 

Jon’s plot with the Freefolk is, for me, one of the best parts of his story. There’s GRRM’s poetic prose in his description of the wilderness of the lands beyond the Wall as Jon travels with the rangers and then the Freefolk. There’s Jon’s character growth and gradual dawning realization that it’s never been the Freefolk who were the real enemy.

It’s interesting to see from Jon’s thoughts and comments ‘Wildlings’ gradually change to ‘Freefolk’. We are introduced to the Wildlings in AGoT as the enemy of the realm from beyond the wall - savage heathens who raid, murder, rape and steal women. The Night’s Watch and even the Warden of the North, Eddard Stark, see the Wildlings as the true enemy against whom the Wall must stand as a defense.

Jon goes undercover among the Wildings to understand the enemy and convey information back to the Night’s Watch. In doing so he learns more about the Freefolk, their people, their culture, their traditions and humbly acknowledges his ignorant hate against a people he knew nothing about (You know nothing, Jon Snow)

The Freefolk tackles the themes of human beings otherizing each other due to bigotry and hate and fighting each other while the real threat - the inhuman Others - advances on them as a threat to ALL humans.

Humanity being one and having to be accepting of differences is a recurring theme in Jon’s story right from AGoT. His new friends and brothers, his new family include the likes of Pyp, a mummers boy, Toad, the son of a winesink keeper, Sam who is bookish and cannot fight. He gets to know and befriends Ygritte, Tormund, Mance, Val and Leathers. He appreciates Satin and Wun Wun.

He told me that a maester's collar is made of chain to remind him that he is sworn to serve," Jon said, remembering. "I asked why each link was a different metal. A silver chain would look much finer with his grey robes, I said. Maester Luwin laughed. A maester forges his chain with study, he told me. The different metals are each a different kind of learning, gold for the study of money and accounts, silver for healing, iron for warcraft. And he said there were other meanings as well. The collar is supposed to remind a maester of the realm he serves, isn't that so? Lords are gold and knights steel, but two links can't make a chain. You also need silver and iron and lead, tin and copper and bronze and all the rest, and those are farmers and smiths and merchants and the like. A chain needs all sorts of metals, and a land needs all sorts of people."  - Jon, AGoT

This is no army, no more than it is a town. This is a whole people come together - Jon, ACoK

A thousand captives watched through the wooden bars of their stockage as the horn was lifted high. All were ragged and half-starved. Wildlings, the Seven Kingdoms called them; they named themselves the free folk. They looked neither wild nor free — only hungry, frightened, numb." - Jon, ADwD

The shield that guards the realms of men. Ghost  nuzzled up against his shoulder, and Jon draped an arm around him. He  could smell Horse’s unwashed breeches, the sweet scent Satin combed into  his beard, the rank sharp smell of fear, the giant’s overpowering musk.  He could hear the beating of his own heart. When he looked across the  grove at the woman with her child, the two greybeards, the Hornfoot man  with his maimed feet, all he saw was men. - Jon, ADwD

“Are you certain that I have not forgotten some? The ones about the king and his laws, and how we must defend every foot of his land and cling to each ruined castle? How does that part go?” Jon waited for an answer. None came. “I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord— what are these wildlings, if not men?” - Jon, ADwD

“These are godless savages,” said Septon Cellador. “Even in the south the treachery of wildlings is renowned.”

Leathers crossed his arms. “That battle down below? I was on t'otherside, remember? Now I wear your blacks and train your boys to kill. Some might call me turncloak. Might be so … but I am no more savage than you crows. We have gods too. The same gods they keep in Winterfell.” - Jon, ADwD

"Free folk and kneelers are more alike than not, Jon Snow. Men are men and women are women, no matter which side of the Wall we were born on. Good men and bad, heroes and villains, men of honor, liars, cravens, brutes . . . we have plenty, as you do."  - Jon, ADwD

The King beyond the Wall, Mance Rayder, understood the Freefolk and managed to unite several warring factions under one man in order to lead them across the Wall.

“When I left the Shadow Tower there were five men making noises about how they might be the stuff of kings. Tormund was one, the Magnar another. The other three I slew, when they made it plain they’d sooner fight than follow.“ - Jon, ASoS

Mance had spent years assembling this vast plodding host, talking to this clan mother and that magnar, winning one village with sweet words and another with a song and a third with the edge of his sword, making peace between Harma Dogshead and the Lord o’ Bones, between the Hornfoots and the Nightrunners, between the walrus men of the Frozen Shore and the cannibal clans of the great ice rivers, hammering a hundred different daggers into one great spear, aimed at the heart of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Free folk don’t follow names, or little cloth animals sewn on a tunic,” the King-Beyond-the-Wall had told him. “They won’t dance for coins, they don’t care how you style yourself or what that chain of office means or who your grandsire was. They follow strength. They follow the man.” - Jon, ADwD

However Mance, while shrewd and a thinker, shares some similarities with Stannis Baratheon in that he is not very flexible in his goals and ambitions

“You can kill your enemies,” Jon  said bluntly, “but can you rule your friends? If we let your people  pass, are you strong enough to make them keep the king’s peace and obey  the laws?”

“Whose  laws? The laws of Winterfell and King’s Landing?” Mance laughed. “When we want laws we’ll make our own. You can keep your king’s justice too,  and your king’s taxes. I’m offering you the horn, not our freedom. We  will not kneel to you.” - Jon X, ASoS

Now there is nothing wrong in Mance’s way of thinking. He is arguing for freedom against feudalism, which aligns with our morals. Mance’s thoughts on why he leaves the NW are very relatable and a bastard like Jon can understand the love for a freedom free from societal rules, bigotry and ignorance.

She was dead, as it happened, but  her daughter saw to me. Cleaned my wounds, sewed me up, and fed me  porridge and potions until I was strong enough to ride again. And she  sewed up the rents in my cloak as well, with some scarlet silk from  Asshai that her grandmother had pulled from the wreck of a cog washed up  on the Frozen Shore. It was the greatest treasure she had, and her gift  to me.” He swept the cloak back over his shoulders. “But at the Shadow  Tower, I was given a new wool cloak from stores, black and black, and  trimmed with black, to go with my black breeches and black boots, my  black doublet and black mail. The new cloak had no frays nor rips nor  tears…and most of all, no red. The men of the Night’s Watch dressed in  black, Ser Denys Mallister reminded me sternly, as if I had forgotten.  My old cloak was fit for burning now, he said.

“I left the next morning…for a place where a kiss was not a crime, and a man could wear any cloak he chose.”  - Jon, ASoS

However, a people who don’t want to obey the laws of Westeros are going to run into trouble with the people of Westeros who already hate them for their raiding, stealing, raping ways.

I think that Jon intends to go further than Mance and that his arc in the books will end with him integrating the Freefolk into the North. We see hints of this in ADwD.

“These wildlings … do you think they will keep faith, my lord?”

“Some will. Not all. We have our cowards and our knaves, our weaklings and our fools, as do they.”

“Once the free folk are settled in the Gift, they will become part of the realm,” Jon pointed out. “These are desperate days, and like to grow more desperate. We have seen the face of our real foe, a dead white face with bright blue eyes. The free folk have seen that face as well. Stannis is not wrong in this. We must make common cause with the wildlings.”- Jon, ADwD

However, Jon’s approach is different to Mance’s - a sort of middle ground where both sides have to make concessions. He goes back to the original interpretation of NW oaths to include the Wildlings and pushes through with allowing Freefolk this side of the wall. At the same time, he insists on the Freefolk following orders, no matter what. Except for the Thenns - in whom Mance valued this quality - much of the Freefolk are without disciplined leadership.

Stannis also wants to settle the Wildlings in the North, but he intends for them to bend the knee, something that Jon knows will not endear them to the king.

“Your brothers will not like it, no more than your father’s lords, but I mean to allow the wildlings through the Wall… those who will swear me their fealty, pledge to keep the king’s peace and the king’s laws, and take the Lord of Light as their god. Even the giants, if those great knees of theirs can bend. I will settle them on the Gift, once I have wrested it away from your new Lord Commander. When the cold winds rise, we shall live or die together. It is time we made alliance against our common foe.” He looked at Jon. “Would you agree?”

“My father dreamed of resettling the Gift,” Jon admitted. “He and my uncle Benjen used to talk of it.” He never thought of settling it with wildlings, though… but he never rode with wildlings, either. He did not fool himself; the free folk would make for unruly subjects and dangerous neighbors. Yet when he weighed Ygritte’s red hair against the cold blue eyes of the wights, the choice was easy. “I agree.”  

Unlike Stannis, Jon does not force them to kneel. Unlike Mance, he does require them to follow orders and NW rules.

It is too cold for this mummer's show, thought Jon. "The free folk despise kneelers," he had warned Stannis. "Let them keep their pride, and they will love you better." His Grace would not listen. He said, "It is swords I need from them, not kisses." - Jon, ADwD

Down in the Seven Kingdoms boys of twelve were often pages or  squires; many had been training at arms for years. Girls of twelve were  children. These are wildlings, though. “As you will. Boys and girls as young as twelve.  But only those who know how to obey an order. That goes for all of you.  I will never ask you to kneel to me, but I will set captains over you,  and sergeants who will tell you when to rise and when to sleep, where to  eat, when to drink, what to wear, when to draw your swords and loose  your arrows. The men of the Night’s Watch serve for life. I will not ask  that of you, but so long as you are on the Wall you will be under my  command. Disobey an order, and I’ll have your head off. Ask my brothers  if I won’t. They’ve seen me do it.”   - Jon, ADwD

And we see the Freefolk accede to this and Tormund bargain a deal that allows them passage to the other side of the wall and Jon Snow getting sworn oaths from them. Many of the Freefolk take up Jon’s offer to fight for the Night Watch. Others are hired to cook and clean, make weapons and become stewards and builders.

Jon plans for Soren Shieldbreaker to garrison Stonedoor with Freefolk. Borroq and his boar is headed there. Jon wants to garrison Hoarfrost Hill and Rimegate with Freefolk like Harle the Huntsman, Harle the Handsome etc. He’s planning on sending Halleck to Deeplake or Sable Hall. Morna White Mask commands Queensgate with her people. Tormund gets Oakenshield. Long Barrow is manned by spear wives under Iron Emmett. Devyn Sealskinner and his clan is given command of Greenguard. By the end of ADwD, of the 19 castles along the wall, at least ten have Freefolk either in command or there as a fighting force.

 Amongst the stream of warriors were the fathers of many of Jon's hostages. Some stared with cold dead eyes as they went by, fingering their sword hilts. Others smiled at him like long-lost kin, though a few  of those smiles discomfited Jon Snow more than any glare. None knelt, but many gave him their oaths. "What Tormund swore, I swear,"  declared black-haired Brogg, a man of few words. Soren Shieldbreaker bowed his head an inch and growled, "Soren's axe is yours, Jon Snow, if  ever you have need of such." Red-bearded Gerrick Kingsblood brought three daughters. “They will make fine wives, and give their husbands strong sons of royal blood,” he boasted. “Like their father, they are descended from Raymun Redbeard, who was King-Beyond-the-Wall.”

Blood meant little and less amongst the free folk, Jon knew. Ygritte had taught him that. Gerrick’s daughters shared her same flame-red hair, though hers had been a tangle of curls and theirs hung long and straight. Kissed by fire. “Three princesses, each lovelier than the last,” he told their father. “I will see that they are presented to the queen.” Selyse Baratheon would take to these three better than she had to Val, he suspected; they were younger and considerably more cowed. Sweet enough to look at them, though their father seems a fool.

Howd Wanderer swore his oath upon his sword, as nicked and pitted a piece of iron as Jon had ever seen. Devyn Sealskinner presented him with a sealskin hat, Harle the Huntsman with a bear-claw necklace. The warrior witch Morna removed her weirwood mask just long enough to kiss his gloved hand and swear to be his man or his woman, whichever he preferred. And on and on and on. - Jon, ADwD

Tormund points out that Mance is King beyond the Wall because he’s clever.

The king gave the older man an  irritated look. “Tormund, some day try thinking before you speak. I know  it was Craster. I asked Jon to see if he would tell it true.”

“Har.” Tormund spat. “Well, I stepped  in that!” He grinned at Jon. “See, lad, that’s why he’s king and I’m  not. I can outdrink, outfight, and outsing him, and my member’s thrice  the size o’ his, but Mance has cunning. He was raised a crow, you know,  and the crow’s a tricksy bird.” - Jon, ASoS

And so is Jon. He does not push the Freefolk, he does not humble them by forcing them to kneel, instead he employs them to address his shortage of man power in return for their access to the same food that the NW brothers get.

And by the end of ADwD, he has their support. They are ready to fight for him.

The Night’s Watch will make for Hardhome. I ride to Winterfell alone, unless …” Jon paused. “… is there any man here who will come stand with me?”

The roar was all he could have hoped for, the tumult so loud that the two old shields tumbled from the walls. Soren Shieldbreaker was on his feet, the Wanderer as well. Toregg the Tall, Brogg, Harle the Huntsman and Harle the Handsome both, Ygon Oldfather, Blind Doss, even the Great Walrus.

 I have my swords, thought Jon Snow, and we are coming for you, Bastard.” - Jon, ADwD

Jon integrating the Freefolk into the NW faces a lot of opposition and anger from his men. He tries to convince them of the necessity and he has to address the issue even with the mountain clan chiefs who have come all the way to see what Jon is upto on the wall.

Integrating the Freefolk into the North is going to be even harder considering the 8000 years of bad blood between them. In ACoK we see the Umbers at the harvest fest complaining about Wildling raids. Jon advises Stannis to not use the Wildlings in his army as it would place the Umbers against him.

However, I do think this will happen considering GRRM’s theme of unity against a common enemy. Jon has already started with House Thenn. Of all the Freefolk, the Thenns are closest to the Northerners.

“The spearwives will be so happy. You might do well to bestow a castle on the Magnar.”

Jon’s smile died. “I might if I could trust him. Sigorn  blames me for his father’s death, I fear. Worse, he was bred and trained  to give orders, not to take them. Do not confuse the Thenns with free folk. Magnar means lord in the Old Tongue, I am told, but Styr was  closer to a god to his people, and his son is cut from the same skin. I do not require men to kneel, but they do need to obey.”

“Aye, m’lord, but you had best do something with the Magnar. You’ll have trouble with the Thenns if you ignore them.”

"Different," she said, "but more like us"

"Aye, my lady. The Thenns have lords and laws." They know how to kneel. They mine tin and copper for bronze, forge their own arms and armor instead of stealing it. A proud folk, and brave. Mance Rayder had to  best the old Magnar thrice before Styr would accept him as  King-Beyond-the-Wall." - Jon, ADwD

The Northerners are not going to be happy with House Thenn taking over for Karstark, but the Thenns in the North is what can start pushing forth the idea that these different people can coexist.

The sigil of house Thenn is also interesting. Notice the similarities to the red sun sigil of Nymeria.

The Dornish Sigil is basically a combination of the red sun with the spear of the Martells. House Thenn has the bronze plate of Thenns, the red flames for R’hllor and the sunburst for Karstark.

House Thenn bringing the people beyond the Wall into the North proper is reminiscent of Nymeria bringing her people to Dorne and integrating the kingdom with Rhoynish customs and laws.

So there are Nymeria’s themes of integration with Jon, Arya has named her Direwolf after Nymeria and GRRM has compared Nymeria to Daenerys.

Q: Also, just how much impact did the Rhoynar  have on the modern customs of Dorne? Beyond the gender-blind inheritance  laws, the couple of Rhoynish gods that smallfolk might have turned into  saints or angelic-type beings, and perhaps the round shields, that is. In particular, given that Nymeria was a warrior-queen, is there a certain amazon tradition?

GRRM:  The Rhoynar did impact Dorne in a number of ways, some of which will be  revealed in later books. Women definitely have more rights in Dorne,  but I would not call it an “Amazon” tradition, necessarily. Nymeria had more in common with someone like Daenerys or Joan d'Arc than with Brienne or Xena the Warrior Princess. - GRRM

While the Freefolk do engage in certain primitive and regressive practices, their women also have more independence in their choice of partners as well as what they would like to do. I don’t think feudalism in Westeros is going to change when the non-kneelers arrive, but I do think the Freefolk could bring with them a more egalitarian approach towards women in the North. And with characters like Arya Stark wanting women to have a more important role, I could see a meeting of minds between these two cultures. 

Jon has always struggled with his identity, even more so after his sojourn with the Freefolk.

Ygritte wanted me to be a wildling. Stannis wants me to be the Lord of Winterfell. But what do I want? - Jon, ASoS

I suspect that in TWoW, Jon will become even closer to the Freefolk after the assassination and mutiny by his fellow brothers of the NW. I think that he will indeed march south of the wall at the head of a Wildling army. And the North will have to make their peace with Jon Stark - if Robb’s decree is taken into consideration - and his army of the Freefolk.

Succession and land is already a very complex issue as we see with Lady Hornwood’s case and the king having to make the tough decisions. If the Boltons are defeated who gets the Dreadfort? Just like with the Karstarks I can see Jon injecting new blood into the North. What about House Giantsbane? Will Tormund bend the knee to Jon Stark? Considering that Last Hearth is next door to the Dreadfort and House Umber’s sigil is a giant, that’s going to be so much trouble for Jon if he did this! But that’s what makes these books so much fun.

So in effect, considering how much opposition Jon faced from his men in regards to integrating the Freefolk even into just the NW, at the moment the Gift seems to be the only option for them. And as Jon points out, that does indeed bring them into the realm. I do think that Jon will try for further integration and succeed by the end. I can see him talking to the Umbers and making his case - just like he explained to the Mountain clan chiefs, just like he explained to his men.  And if that’s not going to work, he has a huge direwolf and a valyrian steel sword that can be quite convincing as well, as we saw with Robb. The Freefolk who desire to settle beyond the Gift would also have to agree to bend the knee. I can’t see the other houses agreeing to anything else.

I think the approaching threat of the Others is going to make the case for Jon anyway and force everyone else to concede.

“Because they’re different,” he insisted. “Like night and day, or ice and fire.”

“If ice can burn,” said Jojen in his solemn voice, “then love and hate can mate. Mountain or marsh, it makes no matter. The land is one.” - Bran, ASoS

[nestasgalpal]

Can you do a A Gwynriel one shot where Az is drunk and tired. Gwyn takes care of him and takes him to bed. He doesn’t want to sleep. She reads him a bed time story. It’s Peter Pan. Hes so In love with Gwyn. He can’t stop touching her hair and tracing her freckles. He can’t stop saying her name just to hear it. He keeps urging her to talk to hear her voice. He makes her lay down and sleep with him. He can’t stop marveling at her red hair.

Yes!!! But just so we are clear, I'm sticking with the roommates thing because the friends to lovers trope is my favorite for them.

Nesta’s Gal Pal masterlist | AO3

The empty apartment

Somehow, he had found his way back home all on his own. Muscle memory was the one to thank for his arrival at the apartment in the middle of the night, when every street looked the same to his barely opened eyes. On top of everything, Azriel was angry —or was he confused? No, he was definitely mad at his coordination, which had been nowhere to be seen in the last hours. It had left him to fend for himself as he swallowed the fifth glass of amber liquid, and never came back.

If the place was in complete darkness or if he was the one with his eyes closed, Azriel didn't know. He stumbled to his room, pushing on his way a very ungrateful lamp that attacked him out of nowhere.

"Get the fuck out." He mumbled as he made sure it learned its lesson.

Quietly, Azriel tried to push his bedroom door open, but it didn't obey. He pushed again, feeling that simmering anger fighting for control of his body. "If you don't let me in right now, I'm letting it win", he threatened. His head weighted nothing and too much at the same time, so, why not, Azriel rested it against the wood as he gave it another push. He screamed for all he was worth, but quietly.

A ball of fire manifested by his side, wrapping him in its warmth. His anger had come to help him fight his strongest enemy to this day.

"Az?"

It was not his anger, it was just Gwyn. How could he not recognize her? Her hand taking his cooled down the tangle of mixed feelings in his guts, reassuring him with her mere presence and smoothing the situation. With his forehead still against the door, he smiled at her. Azriel breathed Gwyn's scent, and suddenly the door not opening for him wasn't as important anymore.

"You will help me, right?" he asked Gwyn. But he didn't need to. He was certain Gwyn would think of something to unlock the entrance to his bedroom. She was smart like that.

"Come here." She pulled his hand, urging him to step back. Then she grabbed the door handle, and pulled it as well. It opened.

Even doors are scared of her.

"Let's take you to bed. I want to have at least one piece of furniture intact in the morning."

Az sought her eyes, but she wasn't looking at him, so he could only marvel at the brightness of her copper hair in the dim candlelight. His eyes then travelled to their intertwined hands. Her grip was tight, as if she didn't mind the scars all over them. He hated how they looked, always had. But it didn't make sense to be the only one worrying, so Az decided he didn't mind the ugly marks of his once tore skin either.

"The lamp started the fight. It wouldn't move, and I needed to pass by." He explained.

"Of course." Gwyn didn't believe him. She might think her lying voice was good enough, but Azriel was a Spymaster.

Even after countless drinks, he could tell when people lied to him. When they tried to fool him, or manipulate his mind. She doesn't know I know, he thought. But I know everything. "I know everything." He said aloud.

"Good for you, Az."

Gwyn was taking him to his bed, and Azriel let her work to take his boots off, and unbutton his shirt. He took it off himself, knowing undressing a male would make her uncomfortable. He wasn't drunk enough to forget his manners. Unless he was of course facing the door. His hatred towards it was so much not even the alcohol would save it from being unhinged and hurled into the Sidra first thing in the morning.

"We will need a screwdriver, though." Her eyebrows were knitted together. Did she not understand? Nah, Gwyn understood everything. She also knew how to read his every thought. It was something else. She was worried. Does she worry about me? In a way, Azriel hoped she did. "Don't. I will do the work. You only have to find the screwdriver for me, hon, because I can't see a thing."

The room was in complete darkness again, and not even her beautiful hair was visible now. Open, he commanded his eyelids. But nothing happened.

"The only thing you need is a good night of sleep. Things will be clearer in the morning" she promised.

"I don't wanna go to seep."

She clicked her tongue. Her scent was intoxicating. Azriel didn't need eyes to know she was right beside him, sitting on the bed. He might be blind, but every other sense was painfully aware of her. Her soft touch on his wrist, the melody of her voice lingering in the air. The bittersweet taste of her kindness, when they both knew he was not worthy of it. Not when he had absolutely crushed and humiliated that ugly lamp someone had gifted him years ago, and Gwyn had dusted that very morning. She must be so mad at me.

Stretching his arm in her direction, sure with every fiber of his body of where her head was, Az caressed her hair. It was tied in a messy bun, and his fingers tugged the ribbon keeping it in place to free her mane.

Open your eyes, he commanded himself again. Because if he missed that view, Azriel would never forgive himself. She was a vision, illuminated by a few candles and nothing else, her hair did look like fire. And he would gladly dance with it. Dance, and twirl within it, since her flames could never burn him.

Twisting a lock around one finger, Azriel realize he was the luckiest male in the world. No one else could see her like this. See her beauty in such an intimate scene. "You are so beautiful, Gwyn."

"Az... You are wasted. If you don't sleep, you will regret it in the morning." She insisted.

"I would never regret spending a night awake looking at you." His hands drifted to her cheekbone, the bridge of her nose. Gwyn didn't flinch away, so he kept tracking every freckle, making sure he remembered the exact location of each, and none had escaped since the last time he got lost looking at them. She was silent now, her eyes closed. "Please, keep talking." He begged, more than asked.

Moving to one side, he left enough room for her to lay down beside him in bed. "Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?"

Say anything. Tell me everything. Azriel was unsure if he had said it aloud or this time his pathetic whimpers had remained a thought. "You are so beautiful, Gwyn." He never allowed himself to voice it, but he thought about it every day. Azriel was sure at some point, the situation would be right, and he would openly let Gwyn how easily her smile had charmed him forever. Until then, it would remain a secret only for him to know. "You are so beautiful." Az saw her chuckle at something, but lost in his thoughts, he hadn't heard it. Her cheeks turned red, and she looked away.

"Let me tell you my favorite story from when I was a child."

Tentatively, Gwyn lay beside him and started narrating this tale she apparently held so close to her heart. He didn't complain, for he would gladly o listen her recite her grocery-shopping list. Azriel did try to pay attention, he really did, but her voice was music, and his tired mind followed the path it marked, trustful, down and down and down into the pitch black nothingness.

As it guided him into his own dreams, it sang the most exciting and detailed descriptions of places.

Something about a boy named Peter and a girl named Wendy who flew together over the sea and a land of miracles. Azriel fell asleep, just as Gwyn said he would, only she didn't know he would dream of himself flying over that magical place named Wonderland with her in his arms. Only he knew that. As the Spymaster, he knew everything.

[valdomarx]

“Geralt. My dearest friend. My closest companion. Light of my life, fire of my-”

Geralt narrows his eyes. “What do you want, Jaskier?”

“Seeing as how I’ve made you famous, and I flatter myself that this has eased you path somewhat, why, this very inn not only took us in but even offered us a discounted rate-”

“What do you want, Jaskier?” Testier this time.

“Ahh. Well. Let me put it plainly: I’m in need of a favour.”

Geralt raises one eyebrow, in an expression he knows speaks volumes.

“I need you to come with me to Lettenhove this winter and pose as my fiancé.”

Geralt nearly drops the sword he’s sharpening. A million thoughts whip through his mind, but one is most pressing: “Why, for Melitele’s sake?”

Jaskier waves a hand in a vague and non-descriptive gesture. “It’s a court thing, you know how families are, and my mother has made it abundantly clear that it’s time for me to settle down and this year I’m to return affianced or else she’ll select someone for me. And I can’t get hitched to some local lady, Geralt, I simply can’t, it’ll ruin my bardic appeal, not to mention my employment prospects, and of course I won’t be able to travel with you, and it’s-”

Geralt holds up a hand to ward off the wall of words. The idea of no longer travelling with Jaskier is unconscionable, not that he’d ever admit that out loud. And they spend so much time together they’re practically married anyway. How hard could it be to pretend for a few days?

“Fine,” he says gruffly.

“Oh, Geralt, you are wonderful.” Jaskier beams and throws his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt growls, but secretly, it’s actually rather nice.

-

“Mother, this is Geralt, my fiancé.”

Cold, clear eyes look him up and down, assessing him, and pinch into an expression suggesting he has been found wanting. Geralt decides against opening his mouth and further cementing that opinion.

“A witcher.” Her voice has the familiar twang of Jaskier’s, but with the flat, expressionless cadence he associates with the higher echelons of the aristocracy.

“A witcher!” Jaskier confirms in a cheery tone. “Isn’t that exciting?”

She sniffs in a manner which makes it clear that exciting would not be her first choice of word. “I see. He will be joining us for this year’s Yuletide?”

“He will.”

Her face draws back into the impassive mask of the well-bred. “Very well. You will stay in the east wing.”

“Thank you, mother.” Jaskier executes a stiff bow which Geralt copies and they beat a hasty retreat.

-

“That went rather well!”

Geralt blinks. “Jaskier, I’m fairly sure your mother means to have me killed in my sleep.”

“Oh, don’t mind her. She’s always like that. She’s actually softened up a lot since dear old dad died, gods rest the grumpy bastard.”

Geralt struggles to imagine how such staid, cold people could possibly have produced a son as bright and warm as Jaskier. They might as well be a different species.

Jaskier pushes open a door to a grand suite, all plush velvets and gold ornamentation, a thick woven rug underfoot. It’s the most opulent room Geralt has ever seen, but Jaskier pays it no mind and throws his bag casually on the bed.

“We’ll have to stay here together,” he says apologetically, not looking Geralt in the eye. “But the bed is plenty big, or I can sleep on the sofa if you’d rather -”

Geralt is still taking it all in: The space, the furnishings, the frankly enormous bed which looks divinely comfortable. And there, through the next room, that looks like-

“Is that a copper bathtub?” he asks, eyes wide. Such luxuries were a rarity indeed.

Jaskier grinned. “It is. Let me get some food sent up and I’ll wash your hair?”

Geralt grumbles, just for the effect, and decides that putting up with tedious aristocracy might have its benefits after all.

-

Yule festivities in Lettenhove are, mercifully, a mere matter of days. First there is the fitting for formal attire, which Geralt scowls through but Jaskier promises will be made up for with plenty of good food and wine. Then there are several deeply tedious aristocratic parties, which Jaskier sails through and Geralt spends mostly hiding in dark corners, as is his wont.

Occasionally, Jaskier will grab him by the hand and introduce him as, “Geralt, my husband-to-be,” and something funny will flip over in his stomach which will require several drinks to settle. When he returns to his dark corner he’ll find his heart pumping a little faster as his eyes track Jaskier flitting around the room. It’s probably just indigestion from all the rich food.

Then there is the formal family Yuletide dinner, a spectacularly awkward and singly unpleasant evening spent around a long, cold table with Jaskier’s mother and various cousins, who regard Geralt with expressions ranging from bland disinterest to active hostility. The food is heavy beyond measure and the conversation cruel and bland by turns.

They cover the need for raising taxes, the many failings of the servant class, and the petty squabbles over jewels and titles that seems to be the bread and butter of these people. With each hateful line, Geralt feels his blood rising. If it weren’t for Jaskier making pleading eyes at him, he’d take great pleasure in explaining some hard truths to them.

When a cousin begins expounding on useless lazy peasants in the estate, complaining that they can’t work because of plague, but we all know they’re simply idle, Geralt grits his teeth so hard that he swears the sound must be audible.

Beneath the table, Jaskier takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Staring down at their joined hands, Geralt detaches from these awful people and their awful conversation and focuses on the simple warmth of Jaskier’s fingers intertwined with his own.

-

They make their escape from dinner as soon as can be considered polite, and Geralt takes a second to lean against the door to their room, breathing deeply.

“You did well not to throttle anyone,” Jaskier says with a reassuring smile. “If we’d had to listen to cousin Edrick for a minute longer, I might have launched over the table with a carving knife myself.”

Geralt reaches for him without thinking, and once again Jaskier’s hand slips into his own. It’s grounding, to feel something genuine in this place surrounded by artifice.

“Come on,” Jaskier says. “Let’s get out of here.”

Geralt doesn’t even ask where they’re going before nodding.

-

They sneak away from the estate out of the servants’ door and follow a winding path toward a cluster of lights in the valley below. The path into Lettenhove town is quiet and calm, and as they walk the snow begins to fall in soft flurries, covering the ground in a peaceful white blanket.

The town looks picture perfect when they arrive, a charming jumble of thatched cottages and a small, cosy inn from which bright light spills out into the snowy night. When they enter the barmaid runs over to hug Jaskier and the proprietor slaps him on the back, and Jaskier has a kind word and a waved greeting for every person in there.

Geralt feels something unwind in his chest, something he hadn’t realised was tight and twisted until now. Seeing Jaskier in his element, among people who love him for who he is, instead of among that cold, hateful family, he feels right in a way he hasn’t for days.

Jaskier is already buying drinks and passing them around, and he excitedly waves Geralt over. “Bree, Geoffrey,” he addresses the couple behind the bar, “This is Geralt.” A shy smile sneaks over his face. “My fiancé.” The couple gasp in delight and congratulate Jaskier, then they’re embracing Geralt like old friends and pushing a drink into his hands.

“Come on, Geralt, join us!” Bree smiles warmly. “It’ll be the ten o’clock bells soon, and we must have Jaskier lead us in a song.”

The evening is a whirl of music and dance and loud, terrible singing, which the entire town seems to join in. For once there is no corner for Geralt to hide in, so he stays by Jaskier’s side, basking in the reflected glow of these people’s clear adoration of his bard.

-

When the midnight bell chimes and Geoffrey turns them all out for the night, the revelers wend their way home still singing and drinking. As the place empties out, Jaskier slides over to Bree to press a kiss to her cheek and a bulging purse into her hand. She tries to wave him off but Jaskier tucks the money behind the counter all the same, and Geralt watches, a deep wave of fondness sweeping through him.

The snow is still falling when they step out into the now-quiet street, soft, fat flakes drifting lazily from the sky and sticking in Jaskier’s hair. His cheeks are flushed pink and his hair falls in an messy sweep over his eyes; without thinking Geralt reaches out to brush it away behind his ear. Jaskier’s blush deepens as he does so, but he shivers in the cold.

“Here.” Geralt unclasps the thick cloak from around his neck and sweeps it over Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier’s mouth forms a little o of surprise and he looks up at Geralt, something tender in his eyes.

Geralt’s gaze is caught by the snow flakes settling on Jaskier’s lashes; he’s so focused that he almost jumps when Jaskier reaches out to take his hand. The sky seems to glow with a soft orange light as the clouds reflect the last few fires in the town below; everything is warm with Jaskier’s hand in his despite the chill in the air.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says softly. “For being here with me.” And leaning in, his breath caressing over Geralt’s face, he touches his lips to Geralt’s cheek in a ghost of a kiss.

Suddenly it occurs to Geralt that this will be it, tomorrow they’ll head back on the path like none of this ever happened, no more holding hands or being close, no more being introduced as Jaskier’s betrothed. And despite the hellish parts of this experience he really doesn’t want it to end. He likes being Jaskier’s person, and he likes Jaskier being his.

They are still standing close together, mere inches between them, and it’s no effort at all to lean in, slowly, cautiously, to find Jaskier’s lips with his own, to place a tentative kiss there. And then Jaskier’s hands are fisting in his shirt and tugging him closer still, and his arms go around his waist and Jaskier is kissing him back like he’s been waiting for it, their mouths slotting together like they were made to fit each other, and everything is blazingly bright like the white of the snow.

When they pull apart they stay with foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, and Geralt can see a smile cracking wide over Jaskier’s face.

“I like being engaged to you,” Geralt says quietly, unable to keep it in.

Jaskier’s smile widens even further. “I like being engaged to you too,” he says. He kisses him again. “Fiancé.” Another kiss. “Husband to be.” And another. “Partner.” One more. “Beloved.”

“I like the sound of those.” He suspects he may be wearing the same dopey grin as Jaskier is.

“Then let’s make it official.” Jaskier bites his lip. “Marry me?”

Jaskier is a picture of perfection, eyes gleaming and cheeks ruddy, snowflakes in his hair. Geralt’s heart has always been right here.

“I’d be honoured.” He considers for a second. “But not in Lettenhove.”

Jaskier’s laugh sparkles with joy. “Anywhere but here.”

[pirates-pirates-pirates]

One Piece Bingo! Death

for @one-piece-bingo!

I know this isn't a new concept but I really wanted to write something that people weren't expecting of my angst ass.

Marco x Ace TW: age gap Word Count: 885

Ace couldn’t believe his eyes or maybe he was simply refusing to. The way Marco went down, the large blue creature plummeted from the sky, the blue and gold flames leaving streaks in the sky as he fell limply from the heavens themselves.

He’d seen Marco take hits before, they just went through him though, similar to how Ace could avoid most things. Why had he been shredded by the hail of gunfire this time? The enemy was retreating at least, which did nothing to relax Ace’s screaming mind as he ran over to the shimmering form that laid so painfully still on the ground.

“Marco!” he cried out, running, skidding across the rough dirt, placing his hands on his lover’s body the second he got there.

Marco let out a sputter, the bird still somehow managed to smile, the fondness in his eyes shined through the pained expression. Ace stroked the silky feathers around his face, brows furrowed as his line of sight travelled along the splendour of his phoenix form, wincing at the beautiful feathers covered in slick red stains.

So many marks, the flames of healing did their best, skittered over them, trying their best to pull the flesh together, to mend the damage to the zoan. Ace bit his lip hard, tasting copper on the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t leaving Marco’s side..

“Marco, c-come on… you got this right?” Ace tried to sound confident, the tremor in his voice, the blink of his eyes, the presence of tears counteracted that.

Marco chuckled, a grimace as the action caused pain to roll across his aching body. The flames swirled and dissipated as his avian form changed, the wildfire of blue swallowed him, Ace jumped back when a wall of cooling flames shot up around Marco, he barely heard his partner’s apology before he closed his eyes, flames overtaking everything.

Panic and anguish didn’t begin to cover how he was feeling as the fire vanished, leaving nothing but a pile of dust, soot, and signs of a burned-out vessel remained. Ace let out a cry, sharp, jagged as his heart broke in two sticking his hands into the ashes, he felt tears roll down his freckled cheeks, making wet dots on the grey below.

Thatch and Izou had rushed over at this point after seeing what had happened, both men giving one another a look as Ace cried with all his soul at the loss of his partner. Thatch crouched down, a hand resting on Ace’s shoulder which was jerked away, angry words drowned out by sobbing chokes, but Thatch was pretty sure ‘get the fuck off me!’ had been hissed at him through gritted teeth and a wall of grief.

The three commanders remained at the pile of ash, heads bowed in solemn silence, letting Marco’s passing sink in. There was a loud laugh from Whitebeard as he came over, seeing the collection of sad faces. Ace sneered a snarl on his lips, hating the joyful laughter from his father.

“Have you no respect?” Ace snapped, about to turn his balled-up fists into flames as Izou and Thatch held him back.

“He’s done this before, calm down. He’s the phoenix, he can’t die. Ace, dig around a little, you’ll see.” Pop’s hummed and watched as his sons stared at him with raised eyebrows and wide eyes.

Ace knelt once more, moving around the piles of ash, watching as it seemed to move by itself. The pirate blinked, seeing the slightest peek of blue through the grey, scooping up the small, fluffy chick. Marco peeped in Ace’s cupped hands, turning to face the human, flapping soft downy wings, and peeping again.

“Looks like you’re going to have to look after him for once boy.”  Whitebeard’s grin stretched across his face as Ace stared at the bundle of blue.

“H-how long will he be like this?”

“Let me think..” the captain rubbed his chin in thought, an eye closed as he tried to recall the first time his son had reverted into the puffball that was currently nuzzling at Ace’s thumb. “About a week.”

Thatch burst into laughter at the entire situation now they knew their friend wasn’t dead, Izou elbowed him in the ribs with little concern about how much it would hurt, Thatch’s howl of laughter was stifled as he gripped his side, Izou’s narrowed eyes were enough to make the laughter completely abandon the chef.

“A week….” Ace narrowed his eyes at bird Marco, how the small pompom of a creature closed its eyes, getting comfy, feeling safe in his partner’s hands.

Ace wondered how much of his human memory would still be intact after the rebirth, he had so many things to ask Pop’s, the man was already heading back to the ship before he had a chance to. He simply sighed, shoulders sagging, his lips twitched into a smile, at least his boyfriend wasn’t dead, maybe being the one to look after Marco would humble him, show him some appreciation for the doctor.

“Di-did you just… shit in my hand Marco?”

A cheep.

“Enjoy your week, Freckles.” Thatch slapped him on the back, heading towards the ship with Izou in tow.

“Yeah, thanks.” Ace grumbled, shaking off the hand that the bird had decided was too clean.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Trust In Me ~ PJM [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.2K

PAIRING: Jimin x reader

GENRE: established-relationship, angst, fluffy ending, mentions of family and being raised by grandparents instead of mother

As you walked down the staircase of your house you placed earrings into your ears, calling out for Jimin to come out.

"Jimin, we're going to be late if we don't leave right now." You cried out as you walked into the living room to find him standing there in his practice clothes. Frowning at him you looked him up at down, today was supposed to be the day he had managed to get off work.

"I thought you got the day off," You whined slipping your shoes on as you looked at him. Jimin felt his stomach begin to churn as he looked at you and lied. Right to your face.

"I got called in again."

"But it's my Grandmothers 90th birthday...We were going to the meal." You reminded him, he had promised you weeks ago that he had gotten the day off and was going to be there.

"I got busy Y/n, I'm sorry." he walked towards you but you ignored his attempt at a hug. All it seemed as of late was that he was busy. Hardly home, always out until late hours of the morning and when he was home he was acting odd. Jittery whenever you asked him how his day had been, on edge whenever you told him that you were going to clean up the house. It felt as though he was hiding something. But you and Jimin had been together for almost 6 years, there was no way he would do something stupid. 

That you knew of.

"I know baby, I'll make it up to you," He promised as he attempted to reach for you but you moved away from him. Grabbing your bag and looking around for your car keys.

"You've been saying that for weeks Jimin" You knew you were probably overreacting. You knew what his lifestyle was like. You had been living it for the last six years but that didn't make it easier. 

"I'll make sure Seojun is following you." He told you as he looked outside. The world knew about your relationship which meant you travelled almost everywhere with a personal guard. Seojun was there to make sure you weren't trampled by paparazzi or Sassengs in the street. There wasn't anyone out there right now but he knew it wouldn't be long until someone was around.

"Thanks." You mumbled turning to leave when he took your hand in his, pulling you closer to him so that you were chest to chest with one another.

"You can't forget this." He placed a gift bag into your hand. The present you had gotten for Grandmas birthday. Something that the two of you had been planning on giving her for almost nine months.

"This is from both of us. I can't give it to her without you." You looked into the bag at the wrapped-up box and Jimin sighed.

"She'll know I'm sorry." Without a word to him, you walked out of the house with the bag. Climbing into the car more pissed off than ever that Jimin would leave you to go to a function like this alone. 

Jimin stood watching you leave and biting down on his lip. It was never his intention to hurt you but this was something he had to do in secrecy. Grabbing his phone scrolling through until he found the name, "Seojun 2" and pressed the call.

"Can you meet me at the house?" He questioned as soon as the other line picked up.

"Sure. Shall I order pizza for when we're done?" An excited female voice asked as she got happy to hear Jimin calling her so early in the morning.

"Of course how could I ever say no when you get so excited like this?" He chuckled grabbing his bag and keys before heading out to his own car. Throwing a bag into the boot before climbing into the front seat, 

"Make sure you bring protection this time, I'm not having a repeat of last time. We got in such a mess!" She grumbled at him as she began to think back on all of their times together. 

"It wasn't my fault we were in the mess." Jimin scoffed as he began to start up the car and put his phone onto the stand, 

"I think you'll find that it was your fault. You're so messy," She complained,

"I never hear you complain until the next time we see each other. I'll see you soon. Make sure you're ready, I want to start right away." He laughed before getting ready to end the phone call,

"So eager Mr Park."

"Only for you." He teased playfully. Hanging up and beginning his slow drive.

"Happy birthday Grandma," You whispered as you walked into the small restaurant your family was hosting in. A small family-run restaurant that had been in the mall for almost 12 years. Your whole family had been going there for years, your grandmother insisting that it was the only restaurant she would ever eat inside of.

"Thank you, dear," She looked behind you and you knew what she was looking for. Grandma happened to be Jimin's number one fan.

"He couldn't make it." You whispered as you put the gift bag down onto the table of other gifts and looked back at Granny who seemed to be upset.

"Why?" 

"Because he had other things to do." You shrugged it off giving her a quick peck on the cheek before going to find you both a drink. 

The truth was you had no idea where Jimin was. It seemed that he was always busy lately and it was beginning to bother you. You had no idea what he was so busy with. There was no comeback coming up and they weren't filming any dancing videos for their channel.

"Your grandfather used to get like that whenever he was hiding something." Your mother's voice sounded from beside you. Anger boiled up inside of you as soon as she felt the need to insert herself in your business when she was never really much of a mother anyway. Not to you at least.

"He isn't hiding anything." You hissed at your mother. She'd never liked you and Jimin together. She never liked you with anybody now that you came to think about it.

"All I'm saying is, he's a very handsome young man. He could have anybody he wanted." She smirked at you, you knew what she was thinking. The moment you had bought him to meet your grandmother your mother had begun flirting with Jimin. Doing anything she could to get his eyes on her.

"Thanks, mum." You grumbled sarcastically before walking away to go and join your grandmother who was opening her gifts. Your brother begging to go first as she picked up an envelope.

"That one's from me!" Your brother yelled excited as your grandmother began to tear it open, frowning and staring over at him as she slowly pulled out what was inside.

"Retirement home flyers?!" You cried out looking from the flyers and back to him as he nodded his head clearly proud at what he had gotten her. 

"Granny needs somewhere she can live," Granny wasted no time in rolling the papers up and smacking him with them playfully until he pulled out a small box.

"This is your real one," He whined as he gave her the box. She pulled it open, 

"It's Granddads old medals. I had them polished and cleaned." She began to tear up before hugging him tightly. Practically making his eyes pop out from his head as she thanked him over and over again.

"Mine next," You whispered pushing the box towards her. Something you had been keeping quiet for months, scared in case she hated it.

"It's from me and Jimin,"

"Who isn't here," Your mother laughed before your brother jabbed her in the side.

"Shut up and sit down. I don't see you with a date either." Grandma shut her up, taking the box from you carefully and smiling up at you. 

Pulling the box open she began to tear up once again, tears beginning to roll down her face as she saw the snowglobe sitting there. 

"A snowglobe for your collection," You smiled as you picked it up to show her that there was a small model of her old home. The one you had spent most of your life growing up inside of. 

"Y/n how did you do this?" Your brother gasped as he moved closer to get a better look at the house. It was almost an exact replica, all it was missing was the porch swings.

"I found someone online who can make custom globes, Jimin and I went to the old house we got pictures." You explained as you shook the snowglobe for your grandmother.

"It's still standing?" She gasped looking up at you with widened eyes.

"Barely. It was practically withering away while we were there but the artist managed to capture everything it used to look like." You smiled remembering the day you took Jimin. It was almost 9 months ago, the two of you went for a road trip to go and find it, You'd almost cried seeing it so dishevelled and abandoned. The inside was terrible with broken glass on the floor, burnt flooring. The inside joinery was exposed and all of the wiring and copper had been stolen. You and Jimin had sat together for a few hours talking about how much the place meant to you and how much you wished you could have saved it.

"This is amazing, thank you." She left a giant kiss on your cheek and you smiled as she began shaking it and showing it off to anyone that was looking at her. Like a child on Christmas.

"I'm glad you like it, I'll text Jimin." You smiled before going to go and find a drink which you had intended to do before. 

Sitting by the window you looked out at the people that were doing their shopping. The party seemed to be dragging by slowly since Jimin wasn't with you to help lighten the mood up a little.

"You're daydreaming." Grandma laughed as she fed you some more mozzarella sticks. Practically piling your plate higher each time. She claimed that you never ate enough when she was around and would always give you more food than you could possibly ever handle. 

"Sorry, are you enjoying your birthday?" You questioned as you looked at her, she nodded her head. The whole family seemed to have spoiled her, which she truly deserved for everything she had done in her lifetime. 

"It's been fun besides your mother, I swear she thinks I'm suddenly going to drop down dead." Your mother had been questioning her about the will all day. It came as no surprise that she only came around sniffing for money.

"Nope, you're going to live until 190," You teased as she shook her head at you. Taking your hands in hers and squeezing them softly making you look at her as she took on a serious look.

"You were always my favourite." You shook your head and scoffed at her,

"Granny..." You said slowly hoping that no one around you was listening to the conversation.

"I'm serious...When I do go everything will be going to you Including the silver. Make sure you hide that from your auntie Gina." She grumbled looking over at Gina who was eyeing up some of the gifts at the table. She was always sly about it but things magically disappeared whenever she was around. 

"What about mum?"

"What about her? She gets nothing." You sighed before looking back out of the window. Your grandmother had practically raised you in that old house while your mother did nothing but party and not come home until 4 am only to sleep until 4 pm and start all over again. 

"What about my brother-" You stopped yourself from speaking when you caught a glimpse of someone in the distance. It looked like Jimin. 

"He gets to have Grandpas stuff, he always loved to look at it." You nodded as you continued to look over at the couple walking around together. Arms linked and ice cream in their hands. It couldn't have been Jimin. 

Could it? 

"I'm going to get some air," You whispered as you excused yourself from the restaurant and headed out of the door. Keeping your head down just in case it was Jimin. 

"What are we doing?" Seojun asked as he finished off the slice of cake he was chewing. The family had been feeding him mass amounts of food since he had been standing by the door for most of the duration of the party.

"Going to see if that's Jimin," You whispered looking up at him as you pointed over near a shop. It was like his whole demeanour changed as he stared over in the direction you had pointed in. 

"Seojun?" You questioned when you noticed how weird he seemed to be.

"It's not him." He mumbled,

"You barely even looked."

"It's not him." He told you again as he tried to usher you back to the restaurant but you got out of his grasp.

"I'll go over there myself and see-" You didn't need to go over yourself, the girl began laughing loudly and you turned to look. Jimin was standing there, the small tattoo on his left wrist a giveaway that it was him. The date of your anniversary was tattooed there. 

"Y/n! We have more cake!" Your grandmother yelled from the door but you felt too sick to move. Everything was still going over in your head. Did you confront him now or later?

"You should do this later Miss Y/l/n, you don't want to ruin the party," Seojun whispered as he began to pull you into the house. Frantically texting Jimin to alert him that you had seen him out with another woman. The other woman he had been hiding from you.

When Jimin walked through the door that night he expected you to be asleep. That maybe you had calmed down from everything you had seen earlier but he couldn't have been more wrong. You were sitting and waiting for him surrounded by cups of coffee. It was clear you had decided to wait up for a long time for him.

"Where have you been? And don't lie to me because I asked the boys." He swallowed the lump in his throat. Maybe there was a chance that he could get away with all of this.

"I was out with a friend,"

"A girl?" You questioned. Not angry that he was with someone else but angry that he felt the need to lie to you about it.

"Yes. She's just a friend." You got up and walked over to the cupboard. Pulling out an overnight bag and throwing it down onto the floor. If she was a friend then why did he have clothes packed up in a bag, looking as though he was planning to leave you?

"A friend you sleepover with at an undisclosed location?" You pulled the bag to show him everything that you had found inside of the bag. 

"Y/n, it's not what it looks like." He stuttered out as you began to show him everything that was in the bag.

"So you just have spare underwear and clothes packed up for nothing?"

"It's not what you think it is, she's just a friend." He assured you trying to reach out to touch you but you backed away from him.

"If lies keep spewing from those lips then I am walking out of that door." You said coldly before kicking the bag towards him. Jimin sighed looking down at the bag and then up at you. It was time for him to come clean with you but there was no way you were going to believe him unless he showed you.

"Let me prove it...Let me show you where I've been doing, what I've been doing." You looked at him before nodding.

A quiet and agonizingly slow car ride later and you were standing at the house. The house you had grown up in. 

"What are we doing here?" You questioned looking over at the house and then to Jimin who got out. The house was still falling apart except now there seemed to be a giant skip outside with rubbish inside of it.

"Follow me." He whispered not wanting to wake anyone else up on the street. It was almost 3 in the morning no one wanted to be woken up.

Following after him, you frowned as he walked into the house. Although the outside of the house was still falling apart the inside was all-new. The exposed walls were patched up, fresh paint all over the walls. Furniture in the place it had been in when you were younger. New flooring was put down to replace the burnt patches that had been left by squatters.

"I've been doing this...I wanted it to be a surprise for you but you saw me so I had to show you." He told you as he walked further into the house showing that everything was as you remembered it to be. A fireplace was put in place where your Grandmother used to sit and read you bedtime stories. 

"I got everything from old images you'd shown me. Your brother gave me old photo albums so I could match everything." You were tearing up as you walked around the house. Everything looked to be exactly the same as your childhood home.

"The second floor isn't finished yet, Sooyoung and I were going to get started on it." The name of the girl he had been with, you turned to look at him.

"Sooyoung?"

"The girl you saw me with. She's Seojun's sister, she's a decorator." Your mouth formed an 'O' as you looked around at everything. Seojun had told you about his sister almost a million times but you'd never seen her before.

"Jimin this is perfect,"

"I wanted you to have everything you wanted...I know how much this place meant to you." Saying nothing you walked into his arms and hugged him tightly, kissing his chest. You couldn't believe you let your head run to the fact that he would cheat on you. Jimin would never hurt you and you knew that.

"I'm sorry I called you a liar."

"I'm sorry I hid it from you...I wanted it to be a surprise." He laughed weakly as he rubbed his hand up and down your back. Kissing the top of your head softly,

"I trust you Jimin. I really do...I was just scared. You'd been so busy and then mum said you could have whoever you wanted." He knew your mum would have something to do with the way you reacted so he shook his head. Promising you that everything was okay.

"I only want you." He whispered leaning down to kiss your lips softly. The start of the rest of your lives was going to happen in a house you had always dreamed of owning.

"This is our place?"

"It will be when we finish on the top floor. We have to way for a contractor to come out for that though." You smiled at him, kissing him once again. You were never going to get tired of kissing his perfect lips.

"Thank you Jimin, this is...This is the best surprise you could have ever given to me," He smiled down at you before bringing you into a real kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you deeper as you jumped up into his arms.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @taestannie @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​

[infinitebread]

reasons why i love taang because this ship is beautiful and won't leave me in peace:

- their differences: the contrast in the way they were both brought up just fascinates me to no end. like she's basically a billionaire heiress and he's a simple nomad with barely anything to his name. toph is blunt and strong willed. aang is gentle and with his head often in the clouds. this dynamic is so *chef's kiss*.

- their similarities: i will literally never shut up about how both their journeys began with them running away from home or how the aforementioned running was born from a powerful desire to be free from the roles they were born into. they both love to travel. they're both child prodigies who mastered their native elements at outstandingly young ages.

- he was her first friend and the first person she told about her seismic vision using earth bending!!!

- that they both had feelings for a water tribe sibling (i mean who could blame them). i could totally see an alternate universe where they bond over heartbreak and first loves. they then both make a pact to help each get over their crushes and to protect each other from further hurt only to fall for each other instead...

- they challenge each other: nobody gets under aang's skin quite like toph. and like we saw during the dinner scene in the 'blind bandit' he can definitely challenge her right back. he was able to discover an unbendable rocklike aspect of himself thanks to her. he could also help her get in touch with her spirituality through meditation and the like. i just feel like they'd have a lot to teach and learn from each other :')

- i feel like earth and air is such an underrated opposite element pairing. there's something so lovely about this combination especially when you take into consideration that many creation stories (as in the creation of the world) across multiple cultures include an earth mother and sky father. there's just something so epic, so mythic about this combination.

- "best friends to lovers" trope. nuff said.

- "childhood best friends to lovers" trope. like the former but even better. especially in scenarios where aang has to leave for avatar training and they reunite years later and have to reconcile who they remember each other as with who they've become.

- the fact that king bhumi foretold their meeting. bhumi would ship them so hard, dont @ me. and he would affectionately embarrass aang in the process, much to toph's amusement.

- the fact that he saw a vision of her in a mystical swamp where you see visions of people you "loved and lost". and how she turned out to be nothing like the demure, giggly vision he saw in the swamp but was still awestruck by her and her power anyway and was determined to meet her almost like he was inexplicably drawn to her.

- the fact that there is a, very convincing, theory that toph is the reincarnation of avatar kuruk's slain lover, ummi. that that's why toph was born blind because her face was stolen in a past life so not all of her features were reincarnated with her and that their spirits found each other again after nearly 1000 years.

- the beifongs reacting to taang: toph's dad canonically believes that aang kidnapped his daughter. it's hilarious on so many levels. he probably thinks aang is some dangerous, bad boy who's influencing his daughter. which just sends me into space tbh. also lao beifong probably always pictured a wealthy suitor marrying his daughter and contributing to his vast fortune. but the man his daughter loves doesn't have a copper piece to his name. "i mean yes he's the avatar sure but his only possessions are the clothes on his back and a literal stick. a stick, poppy!"

- i think poppy would be cold to aang at first but after seeing how hopelessly in love toph and aang are and how much he genuinely cares about her daughter she'd grow to love and accept him wholeheartedly.

- the thematic and elemental symbolism: i mean technically yes, every ship in atla has this at least to some extent, but i once read a taang fic with the phrase, "she keeps him grounded and he gives her wings" and y'all... i haven't been the same ever since. because like, yes! that's it, that's the ship!

i say all this just to say:

i love them. i love this ship.

thanks for coming to my ted talk.

*******

***NOTE: PLEASE DO NOT USE THIS POST TO HATE OR CRITICIZE ANY CHARACTER OR SHIP (CANON, FANON OR OTHERWISE) I'D REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF THIS POST COULD REMAIN JUST FUN AND SHIPPY AND DISCOURSE FREE. THANK YOU :)***

[julietwiskey1]

Chapter 6 snippet from “The Bear against the Dragon”

A tall woman with golden eyes and black hair sat at a table in a small house located in a forgotten corner of the former earth kingdom.  Her golden eyes studied the man, no more than a boy really, lying on his stomach before her.  His father removed the bandages from his back the odor of the infected flesh filled the room with a gut turning odor.  The boy’s mother sat by his side washing away the sweat and attempting to calm the fever, one of his younger siblings could be heard letting out faint sobs while the other ran out of the room.

Ursa let out a small huff as she looked back down to her mortar and pestle, carefully mashing together a concoction to help.  Though her hopes were low for the boy.  Not even the doctor cared to make his way out of town for a case this severe.

But it was hard to see him so badly burned.  If her son… when her own son was burned, she hoped that someone would have stayed to help even if it looked hopeless.  And how could she do any less then what she would have begged for?

The pain of the parents was something she could relate to all too well. She couldn’t imagine anything worse seeing one’s child leave for war with the possibility of never seeing them alive again, only to see them again when all was nearly lost.  Except maybe only ever getting to hear about it from people who hated her children for what they represented.  

“Is it ready?”  The mothers voice hoarse and rough broke Ursa out of her thoughts as she refocused on the ointment.

“Yes, it is, do you need me to show you how to apply it?”

The mother gave a strained smile before responding.  “No, I remember from last time.”

A lump built up in the bottom of her throat.  All she could do was nod as she gave them the ointment and cleaned up her supplies.  After she took her pay, she stepped into the rosy light of the evening sun and took in a deep breath of fresh air.

She looked down at her bag and let out a small sigh as her feet carried her towards her apartment in the town, she was starting to run low on many of her most used ingredients.  Some could be found in the local woods or for a copper piece in a farmer’s garden, others not native to here could be bought from a traveling merchant.  But that would have to wait.  Soon the sun would be too far gone to be able to tell the difference between poison ivy and licorice and the merchant wasn’t due in town for another few weeks.

Every step closer to the center of town the more and more things she started to notice were different.  The doors that were usually closed were open to the let in the evening breeze. Children who played out front under the watchful gaze of a parent were absent.  Old men and women who do nothing other than complain were having animated conversations with their neighbors.

It was something she had only witnessed once before in her time living here, the day they learned the avatar returned.  It was hope and joy, the ability to be happy and to live with the belief that the future would hold something better in store.

Ursa stopped one of the many people she has befriended during her time in exile.  “What is going on?  Why is everyone celebrating?”

“We won the war!  Here look.” Quickly a month-old was shoved into her hand.

[binniesthighs]

call me babydoll | reader x chan

soooo shhhh this actually a part one shhhh but i’m just trying out writing out different things and getting out some of my ideas outta my head that i’m really excited about, this one being one of them!! for now...just pretend that this is just a regular ol’ drabble hehehehe. this part is the set-up chapter (shhh i mean drabble) 

One

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: fluff, smut, and angst 

Tags: (overall) bodyguard au, moderndayprince!chan, bodyguard!reader, secret agent au, royal au, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, softswitch!chan, hardswitch!reader, some skz side characters, jeongin third wheel and comedic relief LOL, travelling, chan being expensive and having a lil bit of a superiority complex, flirtyyyy chan, bits of mystery, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, idk think like 007 vibes hehe 

CWs: guns and gun violence, a shooting in a ballroom, mentions of blood 

Word count: 4.6k 

Parts

ONE | TWO 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here early.” 

“Well, expect the unexpected.” 

“Don’t turn the motto back at me. I’m sick of hearing it so many damn times.” 

“What? You and I both know that it’s true. You’re here early too, so, technically you don’t get to say anything.” 

Jeongin straightened his bow tie, then patted down the sides of his perfectly ironed tux with not a crinkle to be found. Knowing him, it was a miracle that he hadn’t messed it up in some form yet. He promptly took out his pocket square to clean off his glasses. 

“You’re looking nice. Seems like they don’t mind spending money now on you these days.” He blew off the flecks of dust on his lenses. 

“They know that they get their return on their investment. And thank you.” 

You smoothed down the sides of your dusty pink dress that nearly went all the way down to your ankles. Had you any other choice, it would’ve been something different, but, dresses were really good at hiding your thigh holster compared to the slacks you usually favored. You didn’t mind the times that you would have to put on a pretty dress, it somewhat reminded you that there was normal life outside of your job. Not to mention, they had started sending you jewelry as well. You always had liked the look of a diamond necklace. 

“You do your research for tonight?” 

Jeongin nodded, then took from his pocket his phone to read over the details. 

“I’ve done a background check on everyone attending, we shouldn’t have any issues. It’s already a low risk event anyway. Charity is never something to get too worked up over, but, you never know with the detail that some of these people come with...who they might be tied to...” 

“--The only people we can trust is ourselves.” You nodded with arms crossed. 

“Expect the unexpected, I know.” He slid his phone back into his inside suit pocket to adjust his cufflinks. 

“--Nervous?” You took note of his fidgeting actions. 

“Nervous? No. I’ve been through this before. You know that.” 

You flicked your partner right on his forehead strung with his white hair. You had really wished that he had picked a less conspicuous color, but he had strings to pull that you didn’t. 

Jeongin cleared his throat, “You do your once over?” 

“Do you even need to ask? I did it hours ago and when we arrived. You know that I’ve done this before too.” 

“I know. I know.” 

Jeongin looked out at the vast circular atrium that made up the center of the hotel. Several stories down under the glass rooftop, you could hear the faint sprinkling of the intricate fountain which smelled of copper. A bit further down, you could see the tips of the tree branches from the indoor landscaping. Across the way, a door slammed with residents tucking in their ties. The two men you had recognized from the roster: a simple thing which made you feel at ease. Your young partner must’ve started to have an effect on you. A sense of unease seemed to quell in your neck. You always listened to your hunches. 

“W-what do you think he thinks of us?” Jeongin broke the silence. 

“Well,” From inside the room you had waited outside, you could hear his distant murmuring, so you lowered your tone. “I think that he has yet to trust us. It’s only been a few weeks. He doesn’t seem like the kind to give himself up easy. That, and I’m sure his resentment of his father must have some influence.” 

“You think he hates us?” 

“I think he hates his father for hiring us. I mean, wouldn’t you? His old security detail, he had them for years.” 

“I guess so. But, we’re not like his old detail.” 

“No. We’re not. I don’t think he gets that yet. I think he sees us as one more way his father has a hold on him.” 

“It’s not like he can do much else about it when his dad’s a kin--” 

“--No, no, thank you, really, it’s lovely. Some of your best work. Thank you.” 

Chan swung open the door to his room, stopping Jeongin right in his sentence. 

“Ah. You’re here already. That’s...punctual.” 

As dazzling and showy as ever, Chan looking nothing short of a magazine model. For a prince, he had certain...appearances that he had to maintain. Today, it was a velvety and maroon suit jacket with a white button up. On the collar, two matching brooches had been perfectly placed, and they were silver like moonlight in the shape of English ivy and adorned with diamonds. On his lapel, he wore the royal insignia of the lion and the wolf. Behind him, you could see his slew of stylists cleaning up their makeup kits and obscene assortment of designer dress shoes for him to pick from. You had thought before that he even smelled like royalty: stuffy white roses with a hint of priceless cognac. 

Jeongin bowed his head respectfully. “Everything has been prepared for tonight. The rest of your guards are surrounding the building, and I’ll be corresponding with them as needed, your Highness.” He tapped at his earpiece. 

Chan drew his attention over to you, giving you a rather lusty glare. Over the past couple weeks, you had gotten used to it. He was a prince to every extent of the word. If there was anything that he had wanted, he simply had to ask. It drove him insane that all he could do was merely look at you. You had  wondered if he harbored anything else for you besides the way that he would devour the curves of your shoulders and hips. 

“Fox. Bee. You look nice tonight. I like seeing you dressed up. Makes me feel less out of place.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a little sound of discontentment over his rather affectionate nickname for you. You and your partner had been introduced to him as F and B. Quickly he had figured out Jeongin’s codename as Fox, considering that he had done a poor job picking out one that wasn’t related to him at all. Anyone could tell that boy was fox-like, and he also just wasn’t that creative when it came to picking out a name for himself. B, or Bee as he had decided, was your name; as in bumblebee. After learning about Fox, he figured that there was an animal theme going, so Bee seemed to fit best in his oponion. 

You tested his glare with your best, “Thank you, your Highness.” 

Jeongin gulped. “Your assistant should be waiting downstairs with your itinerary. She told me that you should meet her first off.” 

“You work too hard F. Have some fun tonight, hm? But don’t...drink too much. You’re responsible for my life remember?” Chan clapped his bodyguard on the back. 

Your partner nervously laughed and adjusted his glasses once more: his preferred tic. 

“And Bee?” Chan rose a brow to lean into close and whisper. “Stay close, alright?” 

“Of course, your Highness.” 

Chan let out a little scoff after getting one more proper look at your frame. “Damn. You really are stunning. Just a little too dangerous for me though.” 

You rolled your eyes, dishing him outa, “Whatever you say, your Highness.” 

Jeongin threw you and annoyed glare before tracing after Chan as he sauntered down the hall to the glass elevator. 

“Bee? You coming? Or do you have something better to do?” Chan’s voice called down the hall with an echo and a little teasing gesture of his hand. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

It had been seven years since you had chosen this line of work, and each time that you had to go to one of these things, you hated them more and more. Not because they were hard to control--they were easy--but you just hated how many superficial and self-absorbed people that they could fit into one room. 

The air was filled with the scent of champagne bubbles and too much Chanel No. 5. From corner to corner of the room, and even next to the ice sculpture of the lion and the wolf crest, silk, satin; velvet and the best cotton could be found. Long gloves covered the arms of ladies with wrinkling skin, and tweed vests held in the guts of men who indulged in their food just as much as their mistresses. All this effort just to appear as if they had given one care about the philanthropic efforts of the royalty.

Several neatly dressed waiters passed you with golden platters of hors d'oeuvres made of ingredients so expensive, they would’ve cost the same amount as the generous donations made by the attendees. If you could’ve, you would’ve scooped up as many of them as you could, just to eat all of their copious amounts of money yourself, but, there was somewhere a rule that you had to keep your hand to yourself when you were on duty. The best that you had to look forward too was take-out to eat at 3 in the morning with Jeongin later. 

Buzzing chatter filled your earpiece while each of the additional guards gave their hourly report. 

“Damn. It’s fucking colder out here than I thought. It’s fucking summer.” One of them joked to the tune of the other guards laughter. 

“Stay focused.” Jeongin scolded over the line. “Don’t leave your posts until your shifts change.” 

While he was a timid man, Jeongin was not one to mess around. Son of the director, he knew that he had big shoes to fill. After pleading for years for her to admit him into the academy, she had agreed. Everyone knew the reason why she didn’t want him in this line of work. Too many dead. Too many missing. In some ways, he was also yours to look after. 

You trailed after Chan who was busy talking to his assistant and his publicist. While he nodded at their words, you knew that he must’ve been barely listening. Chan never really was one for formality, but much rather enjoyed simplicity and pleasure. Jeongin and you had somewhat of a bet going: out of all the guests, you had liked to bet which one he would take with him to his bedroom. Since you had all the profiles of the guests, you liked to bet a little money on which one it would be. 

Jeongin had guessed it to be the heiress and daughter of a tycoon who had made a multi-million won donation in the name of his company. It was ironic; his very company was a big-scale pollutor who liked to make nice with the crown. She was conventionally very pretty: long legs, a thin frame, she was educated and looked as if she could hold somewhat of a conversation...not like that mattered to him. 

You had predicted it to be the foreign CEO who had just started business dealings with the crown. While she might’ve looked a bit stuck-up and prim, she was intimidating, and a challenge. Chan loved challenges. Chan also had a pension for pretty boys with a bit too much money on their hands--usually inherited--and with nothing much else to do other than dote on him. There were plenty of those attending the gala tonight. 

Chan snaked through the crowd, bowing his head at all of the Good evening, your Highnesses and the It’s a pleasure to meet you, your Highnesses. Every few moments or so he would take a bite from a golden plate and then pop it into his mouth. The whole night long, he would hold his glass with him and it would get refilled for him without him even needing to ask. You sometimes liked to pretend that in some places, they must’ve assigned someone to watch him from afar to make sure that he would never need anything before it was given to him. It wouldn’t have surprised you. 

“Having fun Bee?” Chan languidly rolled his head back, swirling his glass. 

“As much fun as you are.” You quipped. 

“Anything that I should be concerned about?” 

“Nothing of concern.” You stated matter-of-factly. Had you matched his flirting tone, you knew that you wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the night. “Fox. Report?” 

“Nothing that I can see. No one has been tagging you.” Jeongin had staked himself up on the upper balcony of the banquet hall room, and had been watching for as long as you had been following after the prince. “You sensing anything strange?” His voice tickled in your in-ear. 

“Just a bunch of the normal crowd.” You kept your tone down low. “He’s rubbing noses with the usual. You’ve seen too?” 

He chuckled. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

You followed Chan to his seat nearest the front of the room which had been fashioned into a stage with a clear glass podium in the center. Right in front there was one more crest decorating it. Chan had ensured it to be so: he had wanted everyone to know that this was all for his charity. 

“It seems like our bets aren’t working out. He hasn’t talked to either of the...suspects.” Your partner changed his choice of words knowing that the other guards were listening. 

From the opposite side of the room both the heiress and the CEO stood with thin glasses of wine in their lithe hands. Chan had in fact walked right past them, and didn’t even notice. 

“Tonight is going to be a long night.” Jeongin sighed over the line. 

You politely pushed past attendees with a raised hand and a sweet smile. You had found that when you smiled, you had appeared less intimidating. 

“Oh wait...what’s this?” 

“What?” You whipped your head around after Jeongin’s interjection. “What? Do you see something? What’s the call?” 

“Relax! It just looks like he’s approaching someone he wants to talk to. I think both of us are about to be proven wrong.” 

“Ah, shit.” You sighed. “Don’t put me on edge like that.” 

“I’m only trying to entertain myself.” 

“Name. Who is it? You’ve got the roster.” 

You partner was quiet for a minute, and you watched from a distance as Chan approached the man leaned over a martini seated at one of the perfectly decorated tables. 

“Uh, I think that he’s Lee Minho. Some kind of royalty from somewhere else. Pretty low ranking from the looks of it. I think that he made a donation himself...and it’s...damn, larger than you would expect.” 

“Should we be concerned?” 

“No. Seems harmless.” 

“Thank you for coming,” You made out the words that Chan had mouthed. He drew a chair next to the unknown man. 

From what you could tell, Lee Minho was handsome to the full extent of the word: nearly all of his physical features were exemplary and his suit appeared to have been fitted to perfect for him; likely one of a kind. He too wore an insignia on his lapel, but it was one that you hadn’t recognized before. He had immaculately styled hair that had some kind of rebellious and boyish charm to it. The man had a kind of mystery about him too: you had been able to pride yourself in being able to read people, and it had saved your life on more than one occasion. But with him, there was something that you couldn’t place. 

“Do they know eachother?” You asked Jeongin. 

“Not that I know of. School friend maybe? Seems like all the royals send their kids to the same schools.”

“Hm. That would make sense.” 

“Enjoying yourself?” Chan said. 

Lee Minho nodded, and rose his glass to clink it with the prince’s. 

“Do we think that he’s our...suspect?” 

The stranger dipped his head into his hand as he listened to Chan speak. A flirty gesture that you had seen a hundred times or more. Still, the way that he inspected Chan, it wasn’t adoring. Or at least, you didn’t think that it was.

“No. I don’t think so.” 

“What the hell are you yapping about?” One of the other guards snapped over the line. 

“Um, classified stuff.” Jeongin quickly explained. “Above your paygrade. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Fox. Watch out for him tonight.” You snuck over to a corner of the room where you could watch the two of them more discreetly. 

“Affirmative....” Your partner paused. “Babydoll.” 

“Pffff--Babydoll??” The same guard stifled his laughter. “You call her Babydoll, Fox? Damn, you all must be closer than I thought. Didn’t know that I was missing out on some of the action--” 

“--Ever heard of a codename, Three?” 

“Babydoll’s her codename.” 

A grin crept over your lips. “Expect the unexpected.” 

You had almost gotten distracted enough to miss how Lee Minho had leaned over to whisper something into the prince’s ear. After he had done so, Chan laughed out a little, then reached his arm around the other man’s chair comfortably. 

“They’re...cozy.” You updated your partner. 

“I’m trying to cross-check where he might know him from.” 

Chan’s assistant and publicist finally slipped away with giddy little smiles. In many ways, you were jealous of them. They could leave whenever the wanted, eat what they wanted...

Jeongin scoffed. “Well, turns out...nothing. I can’t find anything.” 

“Nothing?” 

“Negative. I’m not seeing any crossover.” 

“So they really are strangers?” 

Your partner sighed. “Looks like neither of us are cashing ou--I mean--finding the suspect.” 

Under your breath, you wondered aloud, “Who are you...Lee Minho?” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The night drew on longer with the rest of the formalities: the formal dinner, followed by several speeches from important people while dessert was being served. It all led up to the final act: His Royal Highness, Prince Chan’s speech. On several neat notecards marked with the crest, he held them in front of him while he ate his last bits of Mont Blanc Chocolate Pavlova. Even the name of the sweet itself sounded pretentious. Granted, it smelled delicious--as many expensive things did. 

You stifled a yawn from your little set up on the edge of the room. At least you should’ve been able to sit, but it turns out that sitting is also against the rules in this line of work. A couple other security and bodyguards had joined you at the edge: some of their heads nodded with sleep, and the others looked as if they had taken one too many energy shots. Luckily, your stamina had been well crafted. 

A fancily dressed MC made his way up to the podium and the room filled with applause after the last speaker had said all of their correct mandatory words. 

“It is my honor to introduce to the stage, our wonderful head benefactor of this organization, His Royal Highness, Prince Chan of the Crown. 

Applause tenfold of before erupted through the whole room and it wasn’t even an afterthought for the every attendee to stand up from their seats in an ovation. It was a force of habit for you, but you found yourself clapping as well. 

Chan rose with grace, and re-buttoned his jacket with finesse. A blinding spotlight found him and it made the diamonds adorning his beck wink brilliantly. Even more blinding was his pearl white, and perfectly trained smile accompanied by his wave. 

Thank you. Thank you. He mouthed. 

“It’s like he’s a frickin’ movie star.” Jeongin groaned. 

“Might as well be with the way that they treat him. You know deep down they’re all just terrified.” 

Chan made his way up to the stage in all of his regality, and the applause didn’t stop until he cleared his throat. A collective groaning of a couple hundred chairs squeaked when everyone sat back down. 

“Thank you everyone, really. I wanted to thank you all for your generous support in your donations to this organization, as well as your association with the crown. I’m sure that all the beneficiaries of your donations are beyond thankful compared to me. Without you, this would not be possible.” Chan spoke with grandiose gestures, as usual, but this time, he had found you on the side of the room. “Listen, aside from being a prince, I’m also just a person. A person who knows what it means to struggle, to--” 

“--I can’t listen to this anymore.” You whispered into the quiet room, and to your partner. 

“Just a few more hours.” He droned. “I almost wish that something would happen so that we don’t have to sit though much else of this.” 

“Be careful what you wish for.” 

In the corner of your eye, Lee Minho shifted in his seat, but still kept his undivided attention to the stage. You figured he must’ve been just like the rest of them: enamored by the flashiness of the crown--and Chan. He had a way of putting a spell on people: it was the kind of spell that a prince of deception had crafted after years of being kept under lock and key. 

“--Anyway, what I’m trying to say, royal or fanciful we all might be, in the simplest way, we’re all just people, therefore this is what connects us all. Thank you.” 

Chan was gifted yet another standing ovation that was somehow even more thunderous than before. 

“Yeah right.” You scoffed. “People born into money. There’s a difference.” 

Chan gave his last waves, then a clamor echoed from the back of the room. At first, it had just sounded like the same raucous laughter you had heard all night, but then it shifted to something different. The sound of laugher turned into shouting, then screams: high pitched and piercing. You had seconds to respond, head whipping around the room to catch sight of the confused prince. In your in-ears, the the sound of gunshots echoed with rapid-fire speed. Machine guns. Shouting commands barked in your ear, and muddled with Jeongin’s string of demands and questions. 

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT THERE? REPORT! REPORT!” 

Your heart instantly started beating into hyperdrive, and your legs sprinted as fast has physically possible 

“THEY’VE GOT GUNS!” A shrill and cracked voice of an older woman wailed from the back of the room. 

Immediately after she had said so, shots fired into the darkened room with sparks, and the metallic sound of bullets hitting the marbled ground followed. 

Chan looked around in his panic for you, petrified on the stage. You slung your gun out from your thigh holster and latched onto him with all of your might. 

“TH-THEY JUST CAME OUT OF NOWHERE IN THESE VANS. THEY’RE ARMOURED, WE CAN’T--” 

“Get the fuck down there and secure the exists!” Jeongin growled into his mic. “B--is the prince secure??” 

“Secure!” You yelled back. Using your body as a barrier, you led the cowering prince through the mass hysteria of the crowd. 

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Shit.” Chan shook under your iron grip. 

More shots fired into the room and bodies parted like the sea and fell over each other. 

From the balcony, you had caught Jeongin aiming his own gun at the chaos below. 

“I’ll cover you! Fuck! There’s so many of them! Get him to the car out back--Three, Six, meet B out there! Three!? Six!? Report!” 

“Three and Six are down F!” One of the guards panted. “I can provide cover out back!!” 

“Who’s speaking??” Jeongin bellowed, then aimed from above at one of the intruders. Your only focus was on weaving you and Chan out of there, but you had seen one of them in a blur. Each of the men with guns wore dark grey suits with black ties and leather gloves. Each of them wore their own crest: and it was all red. 

“Bee?? Bee???” Chan shouted out for you, and jumped every time the crack of a shot echoed in the ballroom. 

“I’ve got you, your Highness. We’ll be out soon. Keep your head down and listen to me.” Your arm held to him tightly, and you soon found the exit nearest. There was no telling if there would be more of them outside, but you loaded your gun quickly just in case, and pointed it out. 

“Jeongin, get your ass down here!” 

“Jeongin? Who the fuck is that??” Chan ducked down to hide himself behind your frame. 

His name had slipped on your tongue, but that hardly mattered. 

“I’ll be down in a second!!!” 

“Don’t fucking waste time up there when I need you down here!!” 

“Two! Two Reporting!!” A man suddenly yelled in your in-ear. “I’ve made it out back and I’ve secured the exit. The car is safe!!” 

“FOX! Now!” 

Your partner heaved, “I’m coming, I’m coming!!” 

You kicked open the exit door, gun’s still blazing, however one one else could be found on the other side. 

“Thank God,” You sighed. 

“Oh shit, I’m gonna be sick.” Chan had turned paler than white, then stumbled in your arms. 

“Hey, HEY!” You held him upright. “It’s gonna be alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You need to trust me. Your life is in my hands and I’m not giving it up easy, got it?” 

“O-okay.” He stammered, then attempted to straighten himself. 

“The Prince is outside, repeat, The Prince is outside. Two, are you in position?” 

“Yes. Yes, I am.” 

Other than the fact that you had just escaped absolute peril, the evening was unbearably pleasant. Crickets chirped in the summer evening, and the humidity of the night smelled gorgeously of the lake that was near-by as well as the vast array of flowers that had been purposefully landscaped around the hotel. Chan’s uneven steps scraped at the gravel walkway. 

Since you had canvassed the whole building well, you had known exactly where the getaway car was, but you were still careful. 

“Bee. Bee!” Chan blabbered. “Have-have I told you yet that I-I’m in love with you?” 

“No, you haven’t Your Highness.” 

“I fucking am. If I die tonight, I want you to know that I am ridiculously in love with you, and fuck, I wanna--” 

“--I’m sorry, Your Highness, respectfully, but now is not the time for this and you are not dying on my watch.” 

Somewhere off in the distance, frogs croaked, and the splashing of fish in the lake plopped at the surface waters. You turned a corner to finally see Two waiting his his gun raised. He was a bit of a shorter and scrawnier man, but something about him told you that where he lacked in strength, he must’ve made up for in agility. 

“I’m out! I’m out!” Your partner gasped, and over the in-ear you could hear his running footsteps. “I’m almost there! I’ll be there in a second!” 

“Your Highness,” Two bowed and opened the car door. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You can call me Two or J. Either you prefer.” 

Jeongin came bounding around the corner with heaving breaths and his clothes askew. His glasses which just barely held onto his face had a crack on them and his knuckles were covered in blood. 

“Let’s go.” The younger man prompted. 

“In the car you go, Your Highness.” You motioned for him to do so. 

Chan whimpered like a toddler. 

You shoved his body in, “Stop that. Get in the car.” 

“I’m in love with you Bee!” He yelled out, “I’M FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU BEE!” 

Jeongin slammed the door in his face with a bit of a chuckle. 

“He’s delirious.” 

“Mm.” your partner smiled. “Sure.” 

[bangtanfancamp]

∴ summary: After spending a gloomy afternoon  trying to get out of your own head alone , you finally seek out your boyfriend for help

∴ masterlist

∴ one shot

∴ pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

∴ word count: 2k

∴ rating: pg-13

∴ genre: soft angst, comfort, established relationship

∴ warnings: oc is struggling with something akin to depression, it’s alluded to but not explicitly stated

∴ author’s note: this is incredibly self indulgent and was written in one go. I’ll edit later. I’d rather have it here to share sooner in case anyone needs it as much as me.

─────────────────────

“Joonie, what are you doing? Are you busy?” Your voice comes out small as you peak around the corner into his office, sweater pawed knuckles sneaking around the edge of the door frame.

He doesn’t look up at first. Perhaps you really were too quiet. Or maybe he’s just that immersed in his book. It’s not a cover you’ve seen before so it very well may be the latter. You know how he is when he has a new thing to get lost in. Ever your astronaut adrift, exploring the moons just beyond whatever new world he’s found.

He looks so at home now. Cozy in his den of words and letters. Perfectly domestic amidst lofty thoughts and paragraphs. His skin is mostly bare today, his coordinated tank top and shorts exposing a golden expanse of toned arms, long legs . They’re folded up and crossed, a little boy lost in wonder as he sits on his futon.

His hair is a warm chestnut this week, fringe too long around the lashes but too short to pull back. The way it refuses to cooperate when he brushes it out of his eyes, trickling silkily, stubbornly back into place, exactly where it wants to be, makes you want to chuckle.

He still hasn’t noticed you’re there. Too far gone in whatever his newest philosophy is to notice the way you study the dip of his furrowed brow, how it juxtaposes against the relief of his shadowed dimples, smiling even as he frowns. He finds so much pleasure in being studious— just for fun. No matter how much concentration it takes. You’ve always admired that about him. Admired everything about him really.

Clearing your throat, though you hate to interrupt him, you try again. 

“Joonie?”

 Somehow it’s even quieter than before, and as he turns another reverent page, you know you’ll have to physically intervene to interrupt him. You sigh. You hate to break the spell. He loves days like this—with the rain trickling down the window’s glass casting shadows on his focused face— he’s so happy to read when it rains.

He leans forward then without looking up to take a sip of his Earl grey, bumbling when the steam unexpectedly fogs his glasses. He laughs at himself, folding his book so it splays across the seat to mark his place and removing his glasses. It’s the first time he’s looked up. He spots you then, his face splitting into the smoothest “there’s my girl” smile you’ve ever seen.

“Hey… how long have you been standing there?” His voices comes low, warm, soothes something in you that desperately needs rest.

“Long enough to see you blind yourself with tea, it seems.” You try to smile back, but it’s a weak, floppy thing. Your cheeks can’t seem to commit so it falls a bit too flat. His brows pinch when he sees it. Something’s amiss.

“Hey… are you okay?” His inscrutable eyes analyze you, and you let him. Too tired to resist or put up a fight.

“It’s not my day, joonie.” Your voice is pitiful, even to your own ears. You’d normally wince at sounding like this in front of anyone else. But honestly, it’s okay. It’s Namjoon you’re with. You don’t have to play games or hide things. Not here. Not with him.

“Yeah?” His eyes catch yours as his palms rub the tops of his thighs. It’s an invitation. You know the gesture by now.

“Yeah… again. There have been so many of these lately,” you say, crossing the room to him, his arms unfolding to welcome you into them. “They come too often and stay too long. They’re terrible house guests. I’m tired of them, joon. I can’t seem to get rid of them.”

You’re scooped against him now, head on the space between his neck and his chest, fingers twisted into his tank top, bum in his lap, knees tucked up til you’re as small as you can get. There’s a broad palm of his on your back, fingertips on his other hand traveling the length of your arm in tender caresses as his cheek rests atop your head.

“Maybe we should start charging them rent. I bet even they can’t afford to pay that in this economy.” He offers the idea solemnly, fully committed to carrying out the metaphor that your mental health really is just an unfortunate airbnb plagued with hideously mannered squatters.

“You know, I love that about you, Joon.”

“My inability to pay rent?”

You nuzzle a sappy no into the heat of his neck,” dummy, your very real ability to never minimize things that are hard to me.”

The dip of his chest as he exhales is oddly soothing. It makes you feel like you’re being rocked and god if you don’t need to be cradled right now. “Things  have been really hard lately, haven’t they?” He wonders aloud.

“It isn’t just my perception?” You look up, eyes entirely too pitiful, too round to belong to a functioning adult. No, Namjoon’s heart goes soft as he realizes he’s looking at the eyes of a very scared four year old you. The haunted gaze of an innocent girl who never got told everything would be alright. Even without knowing any more than that, it makes him want to cry.

“No, my sweet girl, it’s not.” Closing his eyes, he presses somber lips to your forehead, scooping you close to shield you— from the world, from yourself, from all the insidious things that took root in you so long ago you’re not even sure how they got in. His wide hands grip you tighter, a feeble attempt to help hold you altogether.

It’s silent then. A few beats of quiet, only disrupted by the clumsy clatter of irreverent raindrops on glass. His caress stays steady against your soft sleeves, his languid fingers perpetually in motion as he attempts to soothe the wounds that sit just beneath your skin.

You look up at him again, unsure what you’ll find. 

You almost cry when you see the gentleness in his eyes. No judgment anywhere within them. Just something kind that stretches into the lines his eyes carve as he smiles. How you itch to gently peel his horn rimmed glasses off the tip of his button nose and kiss it. Bless him.

God, you don’t know why he’s so nice to you, but you’re so glad that he is. The smile you give back to him is wobbly, trembly, poorly constructed— but so so sincere that it makes your sad eyes shine. He bumps your nose with his, burying himself against your forehead as you cocoon into him.

You want to ask him what he’s reading, listen intently to him as he tells you all about it, but you know you can’t. You can’t decipher anything today. It all feels too heavy. You can’t carry the weight of anything new with hands already full. At this point, you’ve lived in this soft hoodie of his , the one you stole after his tour two years back because it smelled like him, for the past 3 days. You don’t even have the energy to change. With that kind of retention rate, seems there’s no point in asking your brilliant professor to explain anything.

Still, it’s always so nice to hear his voice. Especially with your ear to his chest like this. 

So you ask anyway.

“Will you read to me, Joonie? Life always feels better when you’re reading.” You press your face deep into the copper of his neck, an open mouthed kiss placed against his pulse.

“It’s all kind of theoretical,” he chuckles. He’s bashful. If holding you weren’t occupying his hands, you know they’d be nervously fiddling with the back of his neck. A nerdy boy with a too big brain hesitant to share his discoveries.

“Is it good though? You’ve already read Jung to me, and I stayed awake through that. I think I deserve more credit.” You poke his throat with your nose. You’re not genuinely affronted, it’s just nice to remind him you're competent too. Sometimes.

His sweet chuckle then is earthy and rich, all dark molasses. “True. You actually gave pretty good feedback for that too. Fine. Didn’t mean to underestimate you. Just… bear with me if it feels odd? I haven't read it before. I can’t vouch for it all yet.”

“Fine by me. I’m just here for the cuddles and my Kim Namjoon audiobook.”

He can feel your smile against his skin. It makes him press you just that extra little bit tighter against him, exhaling soft through his nose when he feels you return the gesture.

Scooping up his paperback, he adjusts his glasses where they’ve slipped down his nose, clearing his throat to project like the narrator he claims he’s not but loves to be. He’s quiet for a few more beats. You can hear pages rustling as you sink against his skin. You imagine he must be trying to find where he was when you interrupted, or perhaps searching for a passage that seems apropos. Which he chooses, you don’t know, but you can feel when he settles, just before his caramel voice sweetens the thin air of the room.

“It's the same with the wound in our hearts,” he begins. “ We need to give them our attention so that they can heal. Otherwise the wounds continue to cause us pain. Sometimes for a very long time. We're all going to get hurt. But here's the trick - they also serve an amazing purpose. 

When our hearts are wounded that's when they open. We grow through pain. We grow through difficult situations. That's why you have to embrace each and every difficult thing in your life.”

You aren’t sure when your eyes opened, not sure when they began to glaze over or when you started to cry. But you did. And you are. The salty things dripping down against Namjoon’s silken skin. Your sweatered knuckles try to knock them away, but to no avail. Your cheeks are still a wet mess and now his collarbone is too.

“Joon, what is this? What are you reading?”

“Oh… um, it’s— terribly long title but— Into the Magic Shop: A Neurosurgeon's Quest to Discover the Mysteries of the Brain and the Secrets of the Heart. Isn't that a mouthful?” his laugh is self deprecating, small, but still the most beautiful sound.

God, you hate how sensitive and soft you are right now. You don’t want to be sitting here at 4pm in your boyfriend’s lap crying over a paragraph in a book you've never even heard of before, but here you are.

“ is that… what the whole book is about ?”

“You know, I don’t know. I haven’t read it all yet. Jackson recommended it, I’m just now getting to it. Why - do you not like it? I can put this down. Read you something else if this is too heavy. You always like the poetry. I can grab that one anthology you like.”

You can feel as he starts to shuffle beneath you, eager to track down new reading material for you, afraid he’s scared you off, when the fluttering weight of your palm tethers him to his spot.

“No, stay. Keep reading. I want to hear the rest.”

You can practically hear him smile. Relieved. Can feel his dimples manifest without even trying. He kisses your hair, tilts your chin up to kiss you too. The complexity of bergamot and black tea making his supple lips even more bewitching than normal. The window in the corner is cracked open, the humidity it leaks in making your skin sticky as you lean against him.

He’s lovely like this. The rain soaked air mixing with his natural scent, a broad hand on your chin, warm thumb beneath your lip as you mold pliant into his kiss. He ends it with a peck to your lips, a tap of his nose to your nose, before hoisting you so close against him you just may fuse together.

And he reads. He reads until he’s exhausted. Til the rain has stopped, and you’ve drifted to rest pressed against the skin of his chest.

He folds the book shut once your breathing has stilled, his thumb marking the page as he tips you both to lay down sideways. As he extends his pinprick tingling legs for the first time in ages, you hoist yourself around him in your sleep like a koala, and he chuckles. That’s usually his move.

He kisses your hair then, traipsing fingers tenderly through the escaped bits of it that brush across your cheeks. He wonders if you know how madly in love with you he is. How often he’s wondered what he’d do without you. Today, like most days lately, your light was dim, but still kelvins brighter than anyone else’s.

He sends a silent thank you to whatever deity arranged things in such a way that he can hold you to his chest like this as the daylight saving’s darkness floods his studio office. You seemed so sad today, but he knows it won’t last forever. It’ll pass. It always does. He’ll just hold you until it does. And then some.

[kaichan24]

Favorite Historical AUs part II

1. For He Had Eyes and Chose Me: Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

It is a truth that is universally acknowledged, and it is a burden that threatens to suffocate Victor every single day. But as duty calls and traditions demand to be fulfilled, a young man named Yuuri comes into Victor’s life like a breathtaking force – and with him, the potential to shake the kingdom to its core.

Never has Victor played a more dangerous game. Never has the price been so enchanting.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896636/chapters/65631349  

2. That Would Be Enough: The day the nomads arrive, Yuuri's life takes an unexpected turn.

For he has known Victor, or rather, of Victor, long before he had even first laid his eyes on him. He has known of his reputation, of his name, of his title, of his influence and power, just like everyone else. His knowledge had not made him any special, and it certainly has not prepared him for anything he faces now.

For what, truly, could it possibly be that the man that everyone calls the hokin sees in him?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29808543/chapters/73335837

3. Red Winter: 1905. The end of the Russo-Japanese War brings a stalemate and a treaty, one that gives Prince Yuuri as a bride to the Grand Duke of Imperial Russia.

Relocated to Russia, a bitterly cold, decadent palace, Yuuri struggles in a foreign court. Silently vowing to seize control of the Russian throne, he finds himself slowly falling for the handsome Grand Duke and the inhabitants of his new home.

But in the backdrop of Imperial Russia lies the hunger for change and the seeds of a revolution.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25712032/chapters/62431243

4. Lord Nikiforov takes a Mate: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741048

5. Spirits Dancing in the Night: A respectable, middle-class omega, Yuuri can’t understand why the Crown is so insistent that he must marry Earl Victor Nikiforov, especially considering the Mayberry bloodline is haunted by secrets and intrigue so thick that Yuuri’s future husband can’t even show his face in public. Or the Victorian-light alpha/beta/omega AU (my first time writing a/b/o so be kind, please,) with aesthetic hints and lots of fantasy elements. https://archiveofourown.org/works/13507527/chapters/30979059

6. In Thine Own Heart: Lord Victor Nikiforov knows nothing about physical pleasures and is given time with a rent boy of his choice.

This is how Yuuri comes into Victor’s life, a rent boy from London’s most exclusive establishment, one of its best kept secrets.

A gift bestowed on Victor by his best friend for a limited time.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24192418?view_adult=true

7. Wagerverse. https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942678

8.The Senator and His Concubine: https ://archiveofourown.org/series/1698856

9. Burn that page for me: Prince Victor Nikiforov never asked to be dragged to Leglein's Palace and to live under the same roof as his hated father, King Dmitry Nikiforov. Victor swore to stay away from the man and never touch any of his possessions. Everything is fated to change when Victor discovers that one of the King's possessions has large brown eyes with unfathomable depths and the grace of a dancer's movements. And that he is in grave danger. https://archiveofourown.org/works/27080512/chapters/66122071

10. pulses that beat double. Katsuki Yuuri traveled all the way from Japan to study medicine in London, but finds himself very short on funds. He's long had a fascination with the scandalous Baron Viktor Nikiforov, so he's shocked when the baron takes an interest in him. So shocked he runs away as quickly as possible. But Viktor Nikiforov is a persistent man when he sees something he wants. https://archiveofourown.org/works/12210117/chapters/27730044

11. We Can't... But What If We Did Anyway?: Victor is the attractive coachman for the young Lord Katsuki with an impossible crush on his master. He knows that his feelings can never be returned, that anything more is impossible... ...or is it?. https://archiveofourown.org/works/31146431

12. Let Love Rule: Sixty years ago a small altercation let to the death of the Omega Princess of Shidon. A war followed and when the dust sets the country of Levgrad was ordered to deliver one Omega to serve their live in the Emperor of Shidon's harem. Every year an Omega is delivered and every year the outcry against this practice grows. At the front is Prince Yuuri who is so far removed from inheriting the thrown he doesn't worry losing his chance. That is till his great-Grandfather and current Emperor calls him in for an interview over one of the many files he sent in to the counsel to review. https://archiveofourown.org/works/11213472

13. The Emperor's Deepest Desire: "How much are they paying for me?” “Fifty copper coins, 600 grains of millet, and even a silver coin…” Yuuri’s eyes widened. “That’s outrageous.” “That’s the Emperor,” Hiroko retorted with a laugh. “And if I say no?” Hiroko continued to laugh heartily. “No-one says no to Emperor Nikiforov, you know that, Yuuri.” Yes, she was right. Whatever Emperor Victor Nikiforov wanted, he got.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19307692/chapters/45923053#workskin

14. tattoo your name across my heart: “Your Excellency, may I present my son, Viktor Yakovitch Nikiforov, Prince of Rossi?”

Viktor took a robotic step forward and swept an equally robotic bow. It was only when he rose again that he saw the face of the man his father wanted him to marry.

It was not a face to make Viktor inclined to joy at the match. Handsome, to be sure; the man was almost preternaturally beautiful, round cheeks and a sweet chin and dark, dazzling eyes under arched brows. But those eyes were furrowed, narrowed, a shocking display of outright hostility at a betrothal meeting that set Viktor’s hackles up.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30645971