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yoondles · 3 years

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Grow As We Go - M.YG

CEO! Min Yoongi x CEO! Reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: Marrying your ex isn’t really something you want to do.

Themes: Heavy angst, fluff if you squint for 2 seconds, smut, it ends happily.

Word count: 10k, Unedited

Inspo: Trivia: Seesaw by MYG & Grow As We Go by Ben Platt

Warnings: Yoongi calls you a whore, Yoongi’s pp is huge, reader is a virgin, talks about their toxic relationship, biting/nipping, breast play, light humiliation, fingering, oral (f receiving), squirting, creampie, unprotected seggs, mature language and that’s about it 😐.

A/N: lastly, I haven’t gotten the chance to proofread this and I’m sorry for any mistakes. This is my first fic so feel free to share your thoughts, thank youuu! 😭

You knew you were screwed. The way he held placed his hands inside his pocket, the heavy footsteps that would leave an impression to the carpeted floor of the airport, and the way his eyebrows arched. You were really fucking screwed.

It was the same posture he held one year ago, a few months prior to the separation that lead to the awkwardness that blossomed amidst your honeymoon days. It was eerie silence. You saw the way his veins would pop the moment he saw you as if he was clenching his jaw hard, trying to prevent himself from doing anything he regretted. You refused to make an eye contact with him.

The crowd was going wild, five months after your announced marriage, this was your first public appearance together, as a couple known by the entire nation. The fact that he was Min Yoongi didn’t help either, in fact, more people got interested in your relationship because it was about Min Yoongi.

He was one of the seven bachelors, the current head of BigHit Inc., a large conglomerate. He’s an adopted son of the late Mr. Bang, all of which grew to become individual talents, either blessed in terms of dancing, singing, poetry, even rapping. “Where the fuck have you been?” Cocking one of his brows up as he scrutinised you, looking at your small figure with an imposing look, something that would’ve threatened any normal citizen.

But not you. You knew Yoongi like the back of your hand. Having spent about 5 years of your life in an attempt to make the best out of your arranged marriage with him really helped out. Except for the fact that the two of you haven’t spoken for about one year prior to the wedding itself, and the fact that you were former lovers who decided it wouldn’t work out.

“Japan,” you shrugged him off, dismissing your assistant by giving him your luggage as you tried your best to hide your face from the agonising cameras that the paparazzi held against your face. Thankfully, they were kind enough to make way for the two of you, parting as the newly wedded pair made their way towards the vehicle.

He scoffed at your answer, baffled. He pushed his hair back in annoyance, “why didn’t you tell me anything about this?” You ignored him. Noticing the whispers and glances the people exchanged with one another. You were drifting away, pulled back to reality with the harsh grab you felt in your shoulder, stopping you from moving further. “About what?” You shook his hand off as you attempted to push through. The vehicle seemed to be moving further away from the two of you as tension was quick to rise.

“You, Japan?” You shook your head, walking a tad bit faster this time around. “Hello?” He spoke a bit louder this time, the large empty area made sure that everyone heard him. It was the echoes that reached you. “Just, let me get inside the car,” your voice was getting louder by the second, as the media started cluttering around the two of you, trying to get into the details of what seemed to be an argument between two of the richest heirs in South Korea.

“Can you let me talk to my fucking wife?” His voice was a tad bit louder than earlier, it was nothing that surprised you. He seemed to be fond with wanting himself heard, what shocked you though was the harsh grip that left you wincing as he pulled you inside the car. It was only when you were in front of the door that you managed to shake him off, opening the door yourself as you slumped against the leather seat.

Quickly, you turned away from him, closing your eyes as you forced yourself to shut him out. Pretending that Min Yoongi was a fragment of your imagination and he was no way real, that this was some made up bullshit you fantasised about at 3 AM. “Y/N!” He yelled out your name, anger evident in his voice, as the metal on his seatbelt crashed repeatedly against the plastic, cursing loudly as the driver began to move.

“You couldn’t have fucking waited, could you?!” The loud empty halls in your makeshift home was amplifying your voice. The loud banging of the door was your signal to continue your short rant regarding his unprofessional work, in front of the news outlets that would milk every second that passed in front of them.

“To hell with that, why didn’t you fucking tell me you were going to Japan?” You mocked his tone with a very small voice, removing your heels as you paraded the long hallway, rolling your eyes in the process. Coming to a halt the moment he pulled you back to him with a harsh tug on your wrist. You were quick to react, his face contorting as if confused as to whether he should apologise or continue his facade. “Why should I?” It was a push and pull type of relationship, undoing your dress in front of him was a huge part of the show.

The garment was quick to pool around your feet, swaying your hips gently as you flaunted your white pair of underwear. Moving towards the closet, eyes meeting his through the large mirror. For a moment he paused, taking a few seconds to glance at your body. Taking every curve, every mole, everything he could with such a short amount of time.

“Well, let me see. I’m your husband!”

“Legally, wouldn’t say I voluntarily married you.” You shrugged, grabbing the closest pair of pyjama you found. “Real mature, y/n. It would’ve been nice if I’d gotten a memo, you know?”

“It’s not like you would’ve cared.” You did your best in everything, and right now, pissing him off was on the top of your priorities. Casually grabbing the discarded garment as you walked outside your bedroom, dumping everything in the nearby laundry room, he continued to follow you around like a shadow.

You knew he was pissed. His breathing was a lot harsher, unlike earlier when he was wearing a mask, right now you could see he entirety of his face as he bit his lip in annoyance. “We’re going there, aren’t we?” You nodded, feeling a lot more giddy knowing you did your best to rile him up. Jumping your way towards the kitchen, greeting the maids as you walked over the counter, grabbing a yellow banana.

“Do you seriously think I have no right to know where you are? Is that another privilege I’m not entitled too, hm?”

“Yes, actually. I don’t want you meddling with my business, I want you as far away as possible.” He pursed his lips, placing his hands against his hips as he looked at you dumbfounded. “Contrary to your beliefs, I don’t care about your stupid company. I just want to know if my wife’s safe or if she’s dead.”

“Don’t use the wife card on me, Min Yoongi. Stop acting like you gave a damn about my well-being two weeks ago.” The air conditioning seemed to be working extra harder as the air surrounding the two of you seemed to be a lot more thicker and colder now. His eyebrow slowly arched upwards as he gazed at you, carefully shooting the banana peel inside the automated trash can.

Walking your way towards the fridge to grab a cold glass of water, as he intently gazed at you. “What are you talking about?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at his response, offering him a glass of water before placing it back inside the fridge as you washed it yourself. “I’m just returning the favour, it’s not like I knew where you’ve been the past two months.”

Yoongi was confused, it was amusing to look at him, acting innocently after the crimes he’s committed just three months into the relationship that sealed the two of you towards a muddy path to eternity. “Two months? What?”

“Yes, I don’t fucking know where you’ve been, how you’ve managed to slither past my hands, and how you fucking act like you don’t have a wife at home.” That shut him up. It was silence that followed the short confession you managed to squeeze out after days if trying to keep everything together.

“So to hell with Japan, to hell with you trying to know where I’ve been. Because I’ve been clueless for the past two months, not once did you tell me you were off somewhere.”

It was oddly, fulfilling. To be able to give your pent up emotions some freedom after a few days of relaxation. It was a different kind of satisfaction when you saw the way his face moved, the way his facial features would move with every word that left your mouth. You saw the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, as if figuring out why everything had to happen.

It was at this moment you declared your first victory, moving past him, making sure to touch his shoulder with yours on the way out of the kitchen, locking yourself in your bedroom. Your own personal space, far away from what was intended to be your shared space. Because you and Min Yoongi both appreciated privacy far too much.

It was an immature fight, sure. But that was everything that you and Yoongi had been. Immature lovers who wanted each others’ time for each other, the only thing that you managed to do well was break up publicly and settling everything in private. That was a big enough red flag, however, there was an agreement older than the two of you. Somehow, it managed to slap you both in the back of your heads.

Your relationship with him remained platonic. As if nothing had changed between the two of you, like you were the same pair of lovers who broke up with one another one year ago. Living with him had been many things, it was very exhausting having to keep up with his lifestyle.

It was draining to the point of no return, where you’ve been pushed past all your limits and somehow he chooses to ignore everything instead of addressing it. And it had always been like that, was there not any growth? You assumed there would be some, at least a few, but you thought wrong.

You wanted everything to die out, before proceeding with your plans. The two of you had made an agreement that within the span of two years, you’d be out of the marriage. However, with his brothers growing massively successful, the press made sure to watch almost every movement Min Yoongi made. It doesn’t help that he was private, now that he had to be exposed the media tried its’ best to pry him open. So yes, it had been very exhausting. You only needed two years, and you’d be back to the same situation you had been before.

Eating dinner had been uneventful. It consisted of you looking for the perfect video to watch while sitting in the dining table, your food getting colder every minute that passed. As if you hadn’t had an argument earlier, you had no idea where Yoongi was, whether he was safe or if he was fucking another bitch in the club, hell, maybe he was with someone who could satiate his needs, be there for him, fill up whatever you space you failed to replenish.

Was it painful knowing that? Yes. You could be there for him, you wanted him to at least try and approach you as much as you tried to form a coherent bond with him. It won’t be the same as it was two years ago, but you at least wanted to have a friendship with him. You want the two of you to be able to talk to one another without yelling, cursing. You wanted something to happen, something that was better than your current situation.

Your two weeks in Japan had been the greatest time of your life since your marriage. You’d assume that working there would be no different than if you worked from home, however, there was no empty space in Japan. There was no Min Yoongi reminding you that you were married, yelling that you hated your current life situation and that you wanted to escape. It was a breath of fresh air, but it only lasted for a while, not after his secretary bombarded your secretary.

The door closed with a loud “bang!”. It was something you’ve gotten used to over the course of five months, because you know well enough that Yoongi could never close the door without trying to release his pent up anger. He looked sleek, admittedly, he looked very charming wearing his black turtleneck, and his black coat. But you knew that you needed to stay away, as he removed his shoes, you shut down the television, walking fast while chewing on a piece of kimchi. There was a pause, it was the moment you made eye contact with him.

But you ignored it, walking away with your bowl towards your room. Normally, he’d find you in your room, however, he arrived earlier than usual. Fridays would usually mean that he’d be coming home late, trying to clear up his schedule for the weekends, but he was here in all his glory. “Have you been keeping up with the news?” You were holding a chicken bone, gnawing on it as you were about to pull the door, entering your room, but you were a few seconds late. You shook your head slowly.

He took a few steps closer as he began to open his phone.

“Min Yoongi caught desperately trying to save marriage!”

That was one of the very few articles that had appeared in his phone. Alongside, “Divorce Makes Way For The Newly Wedded Min Couple!” You gave him a shrug, unsure as to what he was waiting for, what reaction he wanted upon showing you mediocre headlines. “Well, I’m glad they’ve reported reliable news.” You could practically see smoke fume out of his nostrils in annoyance. “The fuck do you want me to do? Make a call and tell them no, when we were clearly in the middle of an argument earlier?”

He gritted his teeth, his tongue poking out his cheek as he placed both one of his hands in his hips, the other reaching his forehead as if he was trying to ease a random headache he managed to acquire within the three minutes of talk time you allowed each other to have. “This is the first time they’re seeing us, I’m quite pleased with the reaction.” The sarcasm was dripping off of every word, again, you shrugged. Gently placing the bowl down as you stared at him trying to figure out what he wanted from you.

“You’re a CEO, Min Yoongi. You’re not a performer like your brothers are, this doesn’t mean shit to the millions you earn weekly. None of this matters.” You knew that the reason for this was his brothers’ fame, they were out in the spotlight while he was in the dark. This urged the media to move towards Yoongi’s direction more, as he seemed someone who was more intriguing. Someone who’s name stood out in the crowd, despite not being a public character.

“Do you not care about the reputation you have as an individual?”

“Well in the first place, none of this would have happened if you sat down in your goddamn office chair, like you’re supposed to be doing. Not waiting for me in the airport,”

“Glad you appreciate the effort though, was I supposed to not greet you? After disappearing for two fucking weeks?” He let out a laugh, huffing as he placed down his coat somewhere in the sofa. “You yelled in front of everyone, I asked you to wait, to at least let everything boil down to the moment we were inside the vehicle!” It was a matter of proving who’s fault it really was at this point, it was the same immature fight you’d always have but never seemed to resolve.

“Why do you care so much about everyone else? Why do you care about their opinion, when they barely know you.” That was your conclusion, you halted, and moved towards your room. The bowl was left halfway full in the counter, long forgotten as you’ve lost whatever was left of your will to eat the moment Yoongi presented the news articles he found to be fascinating.

In an attempt to move on from the situation, you distanced yourself from him. The already existing wall between the two of you had only grown taller. You did your best to avoid him, even going as far as checking the CCTVs from your office just to see if he was home, letting him do his nightly routine before proceeding to going home yourself. You wanted no physical interaction, in fact, even the invitation that had been sent for the two of you had been forwarded by him through email.

Even your cellphone numbers had been rendered useless, as you barely talked through messages, not once had he called.

You didn’t know how the night would pan out, you just had to get through this, wear a dress that fit the theme, and pretend that the two of you had been happily married for the past six months. Easy, you thought it’d be easy. However, the void that stood in between the two of you had been way too big to even mend. So, you sat there, tapping your fingers against the soft satin fabric of your dress. Awkwardly licking your lips as you failed to make an eye contact with the man beside you.

You clutched your tiny purse as you had been escorted out of the car by Min Yoongi himself, doing your best to try and act natural. Hooking your hand against his arm, as he cleared his throat in surprise, raising a brow towards your direction as you began to walk the red carpet. Similar to the airport scene, the media was everywhere. In addition to the crowd you’ve managed to form, a bunch of business elites were also waiting for the arrival of the lucky couple, having big names in the business field, wanting to please the two of you for possible collaborations and merges. The two of you were the star of the show.

You began critiquing the way the two of you walked, how his steps were far larger than yours and how you always fell behind. The way your arm awkwardly hung from his, how you attempted to push back stray pieces of hair with your other hand.

Parties had always been your cup of tea, you enjoyed them, you saw them as business opportunities. But for the first time in your life, you lacked the confidence to power through the event, your feet were already worn out from the heels you chose to wear, everything was not going as planned and you were terrified that it showed through. What a hypocrite you were, scolding Yoongi for caring too much despite being anxious yourself.

There was a buffet, wine, champagne, and all of Yoongi’s brothers had also been present. They greeted the two of you, which you happily returned, never missing the sly smirk they gave off especially the way Taehyung laughed at your awkward posture, pointing out that he read the previous articles that mentioned the two of you. The part you dreaded was yet to come, it was at that moment that the old Mr. and Mrs. Choi walked in front of your and began asking you questions.

“You look wonderful tonight!” Mrs. Choi gushed at the two of you, her hands clinging onto yours and Yoongi’s as she began to shake the two of them. You smiled politely, exchanging quiet glances with Yoongi, you were screwed. The old couple loved gossiping, they were familiar with all distributors and were often referred to as the “trusted affiliate” that could juice out everything out of a growing issue in South Korea.

“So do you, I really love your earrings!” You returned the excitement, pointing out wherever your eyes had landed first, so it happened to be her earrings. “Thank you! I got them from Chanel, a little outdated but they do the job.” A few awkward sentences later, they began to ask you about what they were really here for. “I’m so glad the two of you were able to attend, I’ve been anxious since the moment we read the issues, we thought you’d be separating, again.” It was the emphasis on the word again that had Yoongi clenching the glass a little harder, enough for the tips of his finger to turn white. However, his composure remained calm, you gently tapped your heel against his leather shoes.

“Arguments do happen, I’m sure you and mr. Choi have also been victims of small fights every now and then, in the end, don’t we all find ways to resolve these?” He ended by bringing the wine closer to his lips, the dark hue beginning to stain his pink plump lips. The couple laughed.

Navigating a conversation with the Choi’s had always been dangerous, at any moment either one of you could stumble upon a trip mine. On top of this, the lack of communication with Yoongi could lead to possible contradiction of your answers, you didn’t discuss anything nor did you prepare for any interviews.

Their many attempts to find new headlines had almost been unsuccessful, almost. “When are you planning to have kids?” Mr. Choi asked, drinking the sparkling drink in his hand as Mrs. Choi complimented him through her fond eyes.

“Right, it has been six months since the two of you had been married. When are we seeing little Yoongi’s, little y/n’s?” The four of us shared a hearty laugh, “well, my wife and I want more time for each other. Not to say we don’t have any plans in the future, but we don’t intend to have kids as of this moment.” It was a good enough answer, barely any information but it was enough to get a good click worthy title. “Oh, interesting. As much as we’d love to stay, we do have to meet a few more people.”

“We’d leave the two of you be, I’m certain you’d want to talk to hipper and younger guests.”

The two of you gave a polite smile, sighing loudly as they finally left your table. You downed the glass of wine faster than you had done before, the heat in your throat finally easing the tension you’d been feeling. You shared an awkward glance, lightly chuckling after deeming the interaction as somewhat successful.

“You did great,” you praised Yoongi, he started scratching the back of his head as his cheeks glowed in a pink hue, avoiding eye contact for a few seconds. “Who would’ve thought that that would work out?” Biting your lip as you shyly smile at him. It was you getting flustered all over again, similar to how your dimples would show, how you’d look at your feet in order to avoid his stares, those five beautiful years had always been dear to your heart. However, the breakup was almost inevitable.

The two of you were growing at your own pace, while you were busy preparing to be the next CEO, Yoongi had already been managing the company. Although you tried to make ends meet, it still happened. It started with small immature fights, soon it evolved to the days you would fail to meet, bigger arguments emerged, and although you tried your best to settle everything, you were not in the right state of mind. The never ending pressure that erupted from your family, the business meetings, the small problems you encountered in your day-to-day life. Everything collided.

You wanted to find comfort in Yoongi, you wanted him to be the safe space you needed whenever you wanted, but you became selfish. You would tell him everything, disregarding the fact that he too had problems, that he was also suffering considering that a job meant to be split into seven members, were all being handled by one. He tried his best, but on some days it got too much for him to handle, and one day, he finally exploded. He ended the relationship the two of you had, a five year relationship ended in the course of three months.

And now here you were, using your newfound attitude as a way to cope with the heartache that you still feel deep within your heart. Acting like a spoiled kid who was denied for the first time.

What you didn’t know was how much Yoongi had been suffering too. How much he wanted to come to you, and how much he needed to be with you. To him, the arrangement was a blessing in disguise. It felt like a huge blow in the gut when you had suggested a divorce after the noise you’ve made died down, from then he began to feel dejected. Slowly overworking himself, trying his best to distract himself from the fact that you would never be his. The distraction he made soon lead to distance, distance between the two of you.

He tried to act tough around you, spiteful even. But when he remembers how you implicitly rejected his proposal to a life with him, he’d attempt to push through. Putting on this mask as if he was tough, that he was different from the Yoongi you once knew, that he’d no longer be there for you. He halted all of his actions, actions he thought would bring the two of you together. Forming a stronger bond compared to the five years you’ve spent together.

With you acting poorly in front of him, using aggressive retaliation, and him being terrified of the rejection you unknowingly did, your relationship was in a standstill. You were two people who wanted each other, and sadly, there might be no way of knowing that you two did feel the same way.

Despite the flashing lights, the smiles you tried to offer other business associates, you still ended up back into your dark and gloomy house. It was large, had many empty walls and was barely decorated. There was no way of telling if the house was occupied or not, it was far too... professional? It had no character, no visible sign of change, it was bare.

The dark room you managed to inhabit for the past six months reminded you of how lonely you’ve been feeling, how different you were from the persona you tried to play outside of the walls. You’ve grown so accustomed to loneliness that it became such a huge part of your life, you could barely even remember how you acted before you were married to Yoongi, how carefree you were. It was pitiful how a rich, privileged woman like you was stuck inside a place you didn’t feel comfortable in.

It wasn’t the idea of being alone that made you feel lonely, it was living with someone with no physical reaction despite being entitled to at least a little bit of skin-on-skin contact, a hug would’ve been a big help. With these thoughts, you pulled your hand away from Min Yoongi’s as you began to wave the pathway towards the front door. Crossing your arms as you moved in, avoiding him as you made it as quickly as possible towards your bedroom.

Yoongi stood behind the door, for a night that had gone so well, your reaction had been far too harsh. Leaving him as soon as you had the opportunity, as if he were something so toxic to you that you couldn’t even stand being with him, alone, for at least a minute. He felt his chest swell, it wasn’t the good type of swell, it was fucking painful.

Removing his leather shoes, and walking towards the master bedroom, he asked himself what ifs, what if the two of you managed to handle everything more maturely, to the point of having a proper relationship up until now? What if the two of you had really wanted it? Would things be better?

Good grief, of course, things would have been so much better. He cursed himself silently, muttering under his breath as he took the moment to blame himself for just ending the relationship the moment he had the chance too. He didn’t even give himself enough time to process the decision he’d been making. On that same day, he was collected by Kim Namjoon, his brother, in a local bar. He was passed out, his Armani suit reeked of alcohol as he tried his best to push Namjoon away. Telling him desperately that he was fine and that he could drive himself home.

If only fate had been a little forgiving, if only. Coincidentally, on that same night, two establishments away, you’d been busy getting drunk. Two drunk adults had been found passed out, the two of them reeking of alcohol, upset about the same relationship that could’ve been something if it weren’t for their carelessness.

The bitterness of yesterday had easily died down the moment that your nostrils engaged with the familiar scent of coffee, it was an early Saturday morning. The curtains had been automatically opened using an A.I, giving you a marvellous view of the infinity pool outside your room. Stretching your limbs as you carefully stepped outside after putting on your Hello Kitty slippers, you were greeted by your husband doing what he was best at, making coffee.

The situation would’ve been more lax if the two of you were on speaking terms but, you weren’t. He offered you a fresh cup of coffee, something you were quick yo take, a soft “thank you,” escaped your lips before letting the warm liquid pass through. Whilst you stood there in your Sanrio pyjama, the other man stood fully clothed with his suit. He was all geared up for work, something you never quite understood. From what you know about him, he’d always been quite the workaholic, he didn’t have time to pause.

“I’ll be off,” he pursed his lips, forming a thin line of something that resembled a smile. You nodded as you took another sip of the warm coffee. Just like that, he left holding a tumbler with coffee, and his car keys. “Well, at least he bothered this time...” you murmured, walking towards the refrigerator to gather ingredients for your pancakes.

You were busy dancing as you flipped distorted, the television was playing, it served as your background music as you enjoyed the short freedom you had. You made another cup of coffee, bringing the mug and grabbing maple syrup from the cabinet, drizzling it on top of the semi-perfect pancakes. Comfy in your pyjamas, you sat down in the couch and began to dig into the pancakes. You were in the mood, for just basically anything. You were at peace, that was what you felt. Two seconds away from pressing the button to finally turn it off, a scene quickly caught your attention.

The man who made you coffee was the same guy in the TV, Min Yoongi was guesting with his little brother on a survival program, it was about a new girl group awaiting for their debut. Today was the day they get to decide which of the members would be debuting as an official member, as a collaboration between two of the largest entertainment companies Yoongi was called out in order to monitor the members. Hoseok had been a judge since the beginning, here he was sitting next to Yoongi as they made small talk. You paused, holding the empty plate as you grew more intrigued.

Everything was going well, up until they met face-to-face with the trainees. All of the judges reunited with one another, one particular judge, Suran had been quite affectionate with Yoongi. It started with a handshake, that was no big deal, it was a formal exchange between two important judges on the show. It was something normal, very normal.

The show escalated smoothly, rushing towards the kitchen counter as you quickly washed the plate despite the maids offering you their own hands. You jumped towards the couch, and sat down, your heart was racing from the adrenaline rush. But it was all worth it as the show continued. There was nothing that interested you, aside from Min Yoongi, so of course you paid attention to him the most. It caught you by surprise when the camera panned towards their direction, there was a soft voice as Suran held Yoongi’s hand, complimenting his bracelet, making small connections with his hands. “It’s really pretty,” Suran murmured, the host went silent upon noticing the interaction between the two of them.

Yoongi was quick to bow, thanking her as soon as possible. “Your cheeks have gotten really pink!” Hoseok exclaimed, his laughter echoing through the stage. Clapping his hands every once in a while as he continued to make fun of his older brother.

Normally, it wouldn’t be a big deal to you. You weren’t exactly the jealous type. However, with the way you and Yoongi were right now, and how quick he was to react to Suran’s simple compliment, the way they exchanged smiles, how they held eye contact for even a split second. Everything was making your blood boil.

You swallowed hard, it didn’t help that throughout the rest of the show the judges and the trainees kept teasing the two of them. How much did you have to pay for in order to get the same treatment as Suran did? Why did he act that way? Most importantly, how come Yoongi never lets you see this side of him, why does he always have to be mad or annoyed whenever he talked to you? How special was Suran to him that the moment the two of them stood close to one another, they had no trouble navigating through their conversation.

Oh you definitely weren’t jealous, yes you were simply making comparisons and that was natural, right? No, you hated yourself for feeling this way. How come he acted like that around her? Why can’t he act like that around you? You were annoyed at how he moved on, how happy he was. On the other hand, here you were, watching he two of them converse, still moving on from the breakup that had happened more than a year ago. You pitied yourself, you really did. “Fucking hell,” you muttered upon noticing the pooling tears from the corners of your eyes. It was at this exact moment that someone had kneeled before you.

When had he arrived? And why were you only finding out about this. Yoongi was looking at you with a worried look in his face as you desperately tried to hide your face from him, closing your eyes as soon as possible and grabbing the neck hole of your shirt as you lifted it up to cover your eyes. He grabbed the remote control and finally shut down the TV, “shh,” he quietly engulfed you with his body, the scent of his cologne slowly emanating from him. He guided you, lifting you up and walking towards your bedroom, covering your face from the rest of the maids that began to throw looks towards your direction.

It was the humiliation that struck you the most, the fact that he caught you watching his guesting on a show, and somehow found a reason to start getting jealous and ending up in such a pitiful condition which involved crying for affection was beyond you, you didn’t know what had happened. Why did you let yourself do this? You silently cursed yourself. “Baby, what happened?” He had a way with his words, somehow he managed to blend in a nickname, somehow that was enough to remind you what you had lost.

You shook your head repeatedly, trying your best to deny any feelings you showed. Pulling your shirt down, you were forced to meet his eyes, his thumbs found your tear stained cheeks, wiping them off gently as he locked eyes with you. “Why, what’s wrong?” He asked you again, you built up the courage, it was either now or never. “I don’t like seeing you with Suran, no, I don’t like seeing you acting like that around anyone else.” Your hiccups got in the way, but you managed to tell him exactly what you had wanted.

“Y/n...” he paused for a moment.

“How come you act like that around them, while you treat me like this? Why do they get better treatment? I’m your wife Yoongi, how come I get the leftovers while they get full course meals?” You heard how ridiculous you sounded, cringing at your choice of words and the way they flowed out of your lips. But you were humiliated enough, if it were a different situation then maybe you’d be laughing at yourself. “I want you all to me, Yoongi. And I know that it’s not possible, but I want us. I want what we both lost,” his fingers carded through your hair, the other massaged your back in a soothing manner, there was dead silence for a moment.

You knew you lost him.

His arms snaked around you, pulling you in closer to him as he gently placed a kiss on your forehead. He lifted your face up using his thumb, finally he kissed you on your lips. “But you already have me, y/n.” You knew it wasn’t real, there was no way this was happening right now. “You have me,” he muttered against your ear before gently sealing the space left in between your lips.

The tears you poured were all worth it, you knew from that point on that the relationship you once broke had been finally mended. You felt weight being lifted away from your chest.

You were sighing against his lips, fixing your posture as you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands slowly moving south. Grasping your arse as you shifted your position, sitting on top of his legs. You didn’t know what had taken over you at that point. You were desperate for more. The whine that left your lips wasn’t something you had voluntarily done, the moment he pulled away from you, his lips were a lot more plump. His chest was heaving, he threaded his palms in his hair as he eyed you. The two of you did your best to catch your breath.

It wasn’t the first time you stopped in the middle of doing something so sensual, you’ve always wanted your first with someone who you were willing to fully commit to.

Within the five years that you’ve spent together, Yoongi had always respected your boundaries. He stopped the moment you told him. He was a man of self control, but you knew that at some point he’d eventually reach his peak. Right now, there was nothing else you’d wish for aside from this finally happening. “Do I have you?” His forehead touched yours, his warm breath fanned over your saturated lips, closing your eyes you once again touched his lips.

He groaned against your lips.

Something unusual erupted from inside you, it was something you’ve felt before. Only now, you weren’t doing anything to stop it. Your lips parted, neck bending sideways as your breathing stuttered. His lips began working wonders, never leaving a spot on your neck untouched.

The flame that erupted from inside you began to engulf you, the moment you felt his lips against the side of your jaw, you knew you were done for. You began to slowly move your hips, moaning as you felt him nip slowly against your skin. His hands wandered through every crevice, eventually finding untouched area just below your cute little top.

You moved faster, trying to chase something you weren’t quite sure for, but for a moment you thanked the heavens above for Yoongi’s rough pants. You were a stuttering mess, grinding harder, pushing yourself even deeper against his thighs as you tried to reach something, just anything. You knew you were close, so close.

His hands worked wonders under your shirt, already unclasping your garment. Yoongi gave you all of his attention, which is why your heavy breathing didn’t go unnoticed. You were inches away from reaching that something, however, he pulled you away from your rhythm with one quick nip against your jaw, his hands clasping against the flesh of your arse, coming to a disagreement as he pulled onto them, giving you a quick slap.

“Yoongi,” you didn’t know if you were pleading him, maybe it came to you out of instinct, annoyance, you weren’t sure. But you were in too deep, you could honestly cry if he didn’t give you what you needed at that moment.

A low chuckle erupted from him, his chest moving against yours, reminding you of how close the two of you were. “Patience baby, this is your first time...” he gave you a quick peck. Holding the hem of your shirt as he gently lifted it off of you, catching his breath at the sight of your bare breasts. Hands finding their natural position as he flipped the two of you, you head cushioned against the pillows as you stared at his eyes, completely captivated by how desperate he looked, how desperate he wanted to lay his hands against your perky buds.

Starting from your lips, he made his way slowly downwards, making sure to nip the exact spot he knew to be sensitive, at this moment you hadn’t bothered to check if he was leaving marks, but with the time he took to make his way where you had wanted him, you would honestly be pissed off if you didn’t have any. He suckled on one of your breasts, making you arch your back off of the soft mattress. Gasping loudly at the newfound sensation, a drug you were exposed too for the first time, you felt his smirk. Long slender fingers began to touch the other, only adding more to the pleasure, making sure that neither of your mounds felt left out.

He pulled out of the other with a pop, mouth lingering downwards, kissing around your belly button before making its’ way towards the other one. The light illuminated the signs he left on your other boob, out of curiosity you touched your gleaming bud while he put all of his attention on the other. It was far more sensitive, your breathing had turned harsh, your throat felt constricted as you failed to let out moans, Yoongi’s ears were filled with nothing but short gasps. Your hips used your legs as support trying to get any form of contact, however, Yoongi’s legs never faltered. You only grew more desperate with every minute his lips dwelled on your breast.

Your underwear would surely be clinging onto your lips by now, you were irritated by the fabric, you wanted more, you needed it off of you.

“Yoon, please,” tears were pooling by the corner of your eyes, despite begging Yoongi whilst grinding your hips against his body, your hands grounded him against your breast. You were dazed, as if you were drowning and yet you didn’t want to be pulled out of the water, it was painful, and yet you indulged in it. It was a newfound addiction you knew you didn’t want to let go off, it was driving you crazy, towards the edge of all the boundaries you wanted to break.

He hummed, sending vibrations through your chest, you moaned loudly. You chased your breath, trying your best to calm down as he lapped your breast. You groaned even harder, protesting and demanding for something else. He grounded your hips with one of his hands, forcing you to lay still as he let go of your breast.

“God, y/n,” he left his words hanging, you lay still catching your breath as you tried to process what was happening. Sweat trickled from his neck, temporarily staining his black top. His hair was a mess, something you were responsible for, desperately clinging onto it as he showed you undiscovered territory with the small flicks of his tongue. Gently kissing your lips, you let out a sigh of relief upon feeling his calloused fingers against the material of your bottoms.

Raising your hips as you he managed to pull your underwear and your pyjamas at the same time. He pulled away from the kiss, appreciating your naked figure, his mouth was slightly open as he drunk in every detail of your body. You had nothing left to hide, lifting your chest slightly off the bed, flaunting your curves.

The moment he was able to process everything that was laid before him, he knew he was screwed. Memorising every detail, even the small mole in your thigh, everything was imprinted in his head. He knew that he’d be having a hard time from this day forward.

“A fucking goddess,” he murmured under his breath, making eye contact with you as he gently dived down, spreading your legs farther away from each other. Slowly, you revealed your entire body to him. He felt like wanton, appreciating the way your tight nether lips gently opened for him, slick evident in your thighs caused by the never ending squeeze of your legs a few minutes ago when he’d been too busy appreciating your breasts.

You looked away from him, it dawned you how exposed you had been. The way he was fully clothed, with nothing but unruly hair as evidence of the sensual act you’d been committing, you felt humiliated. Despite the fact that he was on his knees, attempting to make an eye contact right below you, you knew he was in control. He gave quick pecks just below the area you had wanted him most, “look at me,” warm air hitting your womanhood. You were innocent in this sense, everything he’d been making you feel was a first to you.

“Y/N,” he licked the inside of your thighs, and when you refused to look at him for the second time, he pulled you downwards. Like a rag doll made for him. His tongue darted straight to your clit, you’re knees felt like jelly. Closing your thighs as a response to the sudden movement, his arms we’re quick enough to wrap around your thighs, forcing them open as he let his tongue lick through the mess you’ve managed to create.

He suckled on your clit, as if licking it gently weren’t enough. Leaving open mouthed kisses, as he pushed onto the sensitive bundle of nerves using his wet appendage. You desperately hold on to the sheets, crinkling them, using your arms as support as you tried your best to hold on for your dear life. You could feel every movement he made, the way his tongue desperately tries to enter your tight hole, the way his lips would wrap around your clit, the way he would smirk after hearing you moan his name repeatedly.

“Shit, Yoongi!” You’re voice called out to him, a tad bit louder than your moans. You gasped for air, hands wrapping around his hair, legs quivering upon the new sensation that set fire to your entire body. He continued to lap your cunt, your lips growing even tighter around his tongue. The sounds he’d been able to produce was enough to drive you to the edge. Hearing how loud he was able to make your cunt sound was beyond you.

A few short breaths, the quick tug in your stomach, and the elated beating of your heart. It came crashing down on you.

You did your best, trying to close your thighs as it began to feel too much, beads of sweat trickled down your forehead as you clung onto his dark hair. With one last gasp, and the closure of his lips, you came with a yell of his name. Your release was greeted by his lips, drinking you in like his favourite wine, overwhelmed by the stimulation you felt you begged him to stop. You rode your high against his muscle, finally, he pulled away.

His chin was gleaming, signs of your release scattered around his lips. Using his thumb, he picked it up. “Open,” he raised one of his brows towards your direction, you looked at him in confusion only to follow his orders. You were greeted by his thumb, you sucked on it, not hesitating despite tasting your own cum. He pulled it out only to replace it with his mouth, sharing the familiar taste, on a regular day it would’ve been odd, but to hell with it.

Whining against him, you tugged his sweater, demanding it be discarded somewhere in the expanse of your room. Chuckling once more he finally pulled away, with a quick flick of his wrist, he threw his top somewhere. You were greeted with a body you weren’t used too. He’s been working out, oh, he’s definitely been working out.

The way his chest moved as he heaved on top of you, the way his arms would flex and the veins that crawled from his hand to his shoulder, as if he was carved by the greatest sculptors. You swallowed harshly. God, he was fucking gorgeous.

You were brought back to reality when his finger poked your entrance, biting your lip as you watched in fascination, the way you wrapped around him, the way it quivered after its’ peace had been disrupted for the first time. Pumping his hand slowly as his eyes never left yours, watching the way your face would contort with every movement, closing your eyes as tightly as you could, soaring higher than the clouds that you had to remind yourself to breath every once in a while.

He felt you flesh, making slow movements as he tried different angles, deciding which one made you moan the loudest. Finally, he found your spot. His movements getting a lot harsher by the second, “god damn it, Yoongi.” You cursed him under your breath, gasping as he went faster and faster. “You think you can take more, baby?” his voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the way his hand moved harshly against your weeping cunt.

“More, please, more,” you chanted your mantra. Your wetness spreading to the rest of his fingers, a second one slipping into the mix. His movements were fast, but not fast enough. You tried to meet his thrusts, his eyebrow cocking upwards at the way you moved below him, observing how desperately you wanted to reach your climax for the second time tonight. “Who would’ve thought you’d be this desperate for my fingers, hm?” His voice getting lower and lower throughout the duration of the sentence.

You were in your own little bubble, his hand quickly surging forward, scissoring his fingers apart in an attempt to get you more loose, to get you to open up for him. Two fingers weren’t enough. Gasping as you felt his fingers do their best to stretch inside your needy little hole, his other hand reaching forward as he tried to distract you from the sudden movements he made inside.

Your clit was getting stimulated, while his other hand pumped even faster. You’re mind went blank, unsure as to what Min Yoongi had been saying for the past few minutes. You assumed you would reach your limit at any second, however, you felt a jolt of pain when he inserted his third finger. Cursing loudly as you held his hand, your breathing growing more shallow. He pumped his hand a little harsher, giving an emphasis to the three fingers he had inside of you.

He pulled the other away from your clit and stilled his movements, you tried to move away from his hand, doing your best to form coherent thoughts as you were torn between pushing even deeper or pulling away. You gasped for air, feeling him kiss your cheek as his deep voice murmured against your ear, “you’re going to need more than two if you want us to go all the way in, baby.”

Jesus Christ, how big was his cock?

These were your exact thoughts, “a minute, Yoongi.” You did your best to relax, forcing your hold to relax as he held his hand steady your cunt desperately in need of action. His other hand went back to massaging your clit, while the remaining began pumping in a slower manner. Despite getting used to the feeling of having three fingers inside of you, it was still too much for your tight unused cunt. However, it made you feel something, soon, the pain was ebbing away. “Faster,” you wish you hadn’t told him that, as his palm began hitting your clit in an abusive manner, driving you over the edge.

The strange feeling began to build up inside of you, his pace grew faster, faster, and faster. Before you knew it, you came undone. You pushed his fingers away, your legs shaking as you desperately closed them. Despite not having anything inside of you, the pleasure was still very evident. You opened your eyes to a wet Min Yoongi, realisation dawned you. “Fucking hell,” he smirked, shushing you gently as he pried your legs open, observing the quivering hole that once sheltered three of his fingers.

You had squirted.

It explained so much, the way the sheets were damp, the way his chest had been shining, your cheeks were flushed.

Your eyes found his bulge, restrained by his belt and the rough material of his pants. You didn’t know what had taken over you, but you wanted his cock. You wondered what else he could make you feel. “Want your cock, Yoongi, please. Need it so bad,”

“Do you think you could handle more?”

You nodded eagerly, despite the dwindling tiredness in your eyes, you knew you still wanted one thing just before you pass out. You wanted to explore how much you could take, what else you could possibly feel, you wanted everything. Desperation. You were desperate for everything that Min Yoongi could give you. “Please,” that was all it took to push Yoongi over the edge. His pants and his boxers had been discarded in a flash, you gazed at him, specifically at the massive thing between his thighs.

You gasped.

Maybe you were taking more than you could afford to take, upon seeing the worried look in your face, Yoongi was quick to comfort you. Telling you that there was no rush in taking things this far, but with a quick roll of your wet cunt against his hard cock, he ceased his words. Letting a growl erupt from his chest as he moved his cock against your pussy. “You’re a beast, y/n.” Positioning his manhood against your wet hole, slowly entering you. Just his tip felt massive enough, the tears that threatened to spill earlier, were full on leaking out of your eyes as you shut them.

Gasping loudly, making an inaudible noise as you felt his tip enter you tiny little opening. “Taking me in so well,”

“Pussy still tight after taking all three of my fingers, you’re a fucking whore.” He stilled his movements, pausing every once in a while as he was slowly hugged by your body. “Ha-ah,” you moaned as he pushed it in even further. “How are you this fucking big,” your manicured nails marred the flesh of his back, marking it with small little crescents. He ignored your remarks, instead he focused on how he’d possibly fit everything in you. You thought you’d be ripped in half when he first entered his third finger, however, at this point you were certain you’re literally split into two. His monstrous cock doing its’ best to intrude your virgin walls.

Inch after inch you felt your sanity being washed away from your body, for a split second you knew your soul lifted away. Your eyes rolling back as he continued to penetrate you with his massive manhood, tiny scars forming in his back from how hard you gripped him. His thumbs sinking on your hips in an attempt to keep you grounded as he pushed himself in. The only warning you got was a quick peck on your forehead before he pushed to the hilt. You yelled, back arching off of the comfortable mattress, your tears staining your cheeks. With the way his breathing became shaky, how his words would falter and the short pauses he took in order to process the idea of having him spear through you in its’ entirety, he was over the fucking moon.

Moving away from him in an attempt to ride him, he couldn’t help but laugh at the desperate actions you took just to get fucked. Pulling out until its’ just his tip before harshly slamming back down, knocking the air out of your lungs as you tried to form coherent sentences, before giving up halfway through and just yelling his name repeatedly. “Ruining your tight fucking cunt for everyone else,” his breathing was harsh, he came in raging inside of you. Harsh pain emerging from your pussy as you took your first and last cock, biting down on your lip as you tried to calm yourself down.

Pulling your perked up nipples before releasing them with a pop, adding more pleasure to the large intrusion in your walls. You couldn’t hear anything, the only thing you could process was the filthy sound your cunt made against his balls. The discernible wet noises, the way the bed creaked against the wall, the way he heaved on top of you, for a split second the two of you owned the world. His lips met yours, his gentle kiss was far different from his rigorous thrusts.

Just when you thought he couldn’t go any faster, he’d prove you wrong with the next. Marking your neck with more purple hues, making you completely his, giving an emphasis on every suck with a harsh thrust, ending it with a gentle kiss on your exposed flesh. You knew you were going to be sore the next day.

Assisting your legs, wrapping them around his waist, he felt your cunt clench around him. “You’re close aren’t you, your cunt clenching around me, refusing to let go of my cock.”

“You’re mine, y/n. No one can ever fuck you the same way as I do,” he growled against your ear as his pace started getting harsher. You couldn’t keep up with him, the next thing you knew you were a shaking mess before him. Coming undone and clenching him, making your pussy a lot more tighter. You tried to push him away, you had already come undone three times in one night, you didn’t know if you had the capacity to cum once more.

However, all you got out of him was an apology, pounding even harder with the added pressure of his thumb circling around your clit repeatedly. “Carving my dick inside of you, because you’re all mine,” You whined in protest, more tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you tried to keep your composure. The pain of overstimulation taking over your entire body, you were all worn out.

Despite all the earlier attempts to push him off, at this point you had no energy left. So you took it all, growing far more needy for another gush of liquid in your cunt, yelling out gibberish as his pace slowly began to falter. Biting your lip, closing your eyes, you felt another tug in your stomach. As if your first orgasm had never ended, you were cumming, for the last time, hopefully.

“All. Fucking. Mine.” With each word he thrusted harder, you felt warm liquid painting your walls white as you choked out a sob. Clinging onto him as he gently pulled out. Meeting your eyes and gently wiping away your tears, jokingly slapping his arm afterwards. “The audacity you have, after doing it so roughly.” His gums appeared in front of you, the same gummy smile that made your heart bloom finally appearing once again.

He kissed your forehead before tucking you in bed, the sticky feeling from the sheets only making you wince. He stretched out his back before walking towards your bathroom, soon enough you heard the shower. Despite the icky and sick feeling of the sheets, you managed to take a 30-minute nap, only to be woken up by Yoongi gently blowing on your face. “Let’s go upstairs...” he whispered softly, pulling you up, as he wrapped your robe around you.

Carrying you as if you weighed nothing, as he walked around the house with nothing but his towel wrapped around his waist. For the first time in months, you finally got to see how his bedroom looked like. You groaned in pain after he put you down against the grain of his marble counter. Grabbing a wash cloth and rubbing the damp towel all over your body, using warm water, finally cleaning up the mess he’s managed to make. Dressing you up in a pair of your own pyjamas he must’ve gotten earlier.

You clung onto him like a baby koala afterwards, forcing him to lay down with you in his bed. The scent of pine trees covered the silk sheets, accompanied by his favourite cologne from Paco Rabanne.

Just as if a year of separation hadn’t happened, you found your way clinging to his body the same way you did when the two of you had been dating. The small peck on top of your head was nothing unusual, the instinct of having his arm gently wrap around you after such a tiring day from work. Slowly, everything pieced itself. You wondered just how you lived through a year without him, how much you wished you’d spent it together.

He inhaled your scent, closing his eyes as he felt the satisfaction rushing in his veins. “I love you, y/n... so much, so, so, much.” He whispered against your ear, lips finding your temple as he gave you another kiss. Telling you how much he appreciated you, terrified that somehow the two of you would find your way back to the same place you ended up in, all alone and in desperate need of comfort from each other. Yoongi took his time to tell you all the sweet nothings he wished he told you before you separated.

By the end of the day, the two of you were just thankful you’d finally found your way back home.

#bts #bts smut #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #bts imagine #bts imagines #min yoongi smut #suga smut #agust d #agust d smut #min yoongi imagine #suga imagine #bts x reader #bts x you #yoongi imagine #arranged marriage #arranged marriage au #bts au

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xxdragonwriterxx · 3 years

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🔥You Are Human, And Damn It, You Are An Important One!🔥

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m back! It looks like my tags finally decided to sort themselves out so I wanted to (finally) post a new story! I’m still working on requests though, so don’t worry, those are coming soon! I just wanted to post this in the mean time while I edit those and test if my tags are really fixed on one of my originals so that any requested fics will actually be seen later should an error occur. Thank you so much for your continued support and patience, you guys are so amazing! I hope this makes up for my temporary hiatus! This one actually has a bit of a heavier tone to it but I think I’m finally happy with it! Thanks again for the support, and don’t be afraid to talk to me! Shoot me a message or just spew random bullshit and I’ll still respond 😂. Enjoy!

(Warning: themes of non-con & abuse. This is set in a brothel, but there’s nothing explicit, it’s just mentioned or implied. Just wanted to put it out there! Viewer discretion advised!)

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Gardener” By: Sarah Sparks 🐉

Word Count: ~7k

~~~

It was that time of year. The time of year that Levi hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It was the time of year in which merchants from all around would come down to the Underground City, away from the prying eyes of the Military Police, and sell anything and everything to the nobles who weren’t exactly looking for orthodox materials. The normally filthy, mostly empty streets would be filled with members of the wealthy, dripping in jewelry, cash, and lavish clothing as they paraded around the sorry excuse for a city, boasting of their wealth and privilege as they bought enough food and luxurious goods to feed three times the number of people in the Underground while sharing none of it.

The days were starting to blur together. Levi honestly couldn’t tell if it had been a day, a week, or a month as the drugs in his system continued to work just like the brothel owners wanted them to, rendering him practically inoperative and perfect for use. His head pounded, swimming with confused thoughts. His gaze was unfocused, warped, and his whole body felt suffocatingly hot despite his lack of cover, his legs shifting as his body instinctively searched for a relief he didn’t even want. But that was exactly how they wanted him.

The sound of his door being unlocked made him look up slowly, his eyes taking a few seconds to fully focus on the man standing in the entrance of his room, a wide, malicious grin on his face. Levi couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. The man smelled of sweat and stale alcohol, and his unkempt appearance made Levi itch, even when drugged out of his mind.

“Oh, Levi…” the man cooed, making Levi shudder. “I have another customer for you.”

Even though Levi had been through this time and time again, even though he had been trapped in his filthy room since he was caught stealing from a merchant friend of the brothel owner at age twenty, even though the drugs in his system were making his body scream for what this new customer could give him, he still couldn’t help the wave of dread that washed through him, the fear. Levi didn’t fear much, having grown up on the streets of the Underground alone since he was abandoned by Kenny at the age of ten, but this? This he was scared of.

He thought back to the wretched old man that had abandoned him as a small child and wondered what he would think of him now. Would he be disgusted? Unsurprised? Angry? Not that it mattered. Levi knew he would never see him again. But even so, his brain couldn’t help itself from going down those roads, asking questions of “what if?” no matter how many times he reminded himself that it didn’t matter. He was just some bastard thug turned whore in the Underground. Nobody was going to even remember him, let alone care about who he was or who he may be in the future.

Levi was once again brought out of his daze when the pig in the doorway moved to the side, letting a noble woman saunter into the room. She had a wicked grin on her face as she approached him, ignoring the brothel owner as he slammed the door shut behind her, giving them some privacy. She was covered in glittering jewelry, and although the dress she wore was extravagant, it was very tight fitting and low cut, barely considered decent, her large breasts one breath away from spilling out over the top. Her hair was pinned up in a lavish braided style, twisting and coiling tightly, and held together with real gold pins that Levi knew must’ve cost a fortune.

“~Well, hello sexy,” the woman purred as she approached the raven-haired man.

Levi had to force himself not to grimace, even with the effect of the drugs, when she slithered her way over his thighs, her hands reaching up to cup his face. The smell of whatever custard perfume she had on was overwhelming, making his eyes water and his throat close up. Her hands felt clammy from all of the lotions and creams she had slathered over her skin to make it look shinier, making them feel like dead fish rubbing against his cheeks.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask my name?” The woman demanded in a sickly sweet voice, making Levi close his eyes in barely suppressed agony.

“What is your name?” Levi asked in a low voice. He felt the woman preen above him at the sound of his voice, knowing she thought his deep tone was for setting the mood rather than the effect of his despair.

“My name is Lady Clarissa! What’s your name, hmmm?”

“Levi,” He said quietly.

“Oooh, Leevviiii, I like that,” Lady Clarissa practically moaned. “Say, Levi, you were quite expensive. That must mean you're really good at what you do. I can already tell that you fulfill my personal tastes in terms of appearance, so why don’t you convince me of the rest and give me a good time. Don’t make me regret spending my good money on you. Don’t make me punish you.”

Levi gritted his teeth when she ground her hips into him, trying his hardest not to fight back. He knew it would be difficult, the drugs making his movements and mental processes much slower, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was shove her off of him. Swallowing the bile in his throat, Levi reached for her as she leaned down to force her tongue into his mouth.

It was that time of year. The time of year that (Y/N) hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It took everything in her to avoid groaning in annoyance as the people she was expected to call her friends dragged her down into the filthy Underground City for a day of “fun”. (Y/N) would much rather be back at home, reading a book in the library, or relaxing with the horses in the barn, or secretly practicing her sword fighting skills with the guards of their estate. But her father had forced her to go when her friends had shown up at the house, begging for her to come with them. He claimed she needed to get her priorities straight and actually present herself, show the honor and pride that came with being part of the (L/N) family. (Y/N) thought there was very little honor and pride in parading their wealth around like they owned the world, especially in front of people who constantly struggled to survive on a daily basis.

(Y/N) walked slowly down the worn cobblestone streets, suppressing the urge to gag at the sight of other nobles walking around, looking and acting as if they were rulers of the walls. She barely looked at anything, only stopping to occasionally buy food when she noticed the hungry children hanging around, looking for a scrap to steal. She could tell they were wary of her, but she never stopped trying, always offering them the food in some way, even if it meant leaving it in a secluded space for them to find later.

Her friends constantly tried to get her to engage, running up to her with crystal jewelry, silk clothing, and delectable foods, attempting to entice her, only to get pushed away. (Y/N) wanted no part in any of it. Even her attire spoke volumes about how little she wanted to be there. She knew that to the people of the Underground, the dress she wore would be considered something of utmost value, but when compared to the nobles around her, she looked underdressed and plain. She wore nothing more than a subtle red dress covered with a black leather jacket, paired with black combat boots and matching gloves, no jewelry to be found except for the simple white earrings she wore in her lobes.

Her father had been less than pleased with her appearance, but stopped arguing when she announced she was leaving, the lord just happy she had at least agreed to go to the festival. She knew he was disappointed in her, annoyed that she wasn’t like the other noble ladies who loved to flaunt their luxurious lifestyles and bend to the every whim of the lords around them, looking to marry early for money and power. (Y/N) wouldn’t be surprised if the entire reason her father wanted her here was so she could possibly win over the affections of a single lord milling about, one that was rich and influential. It was for that possibility alone that (Y/N) had originally thought to wear something that made her look underdressed, having to swallow the bile that rose in her throat at the prospect of catching some snobby noble’s attention.

“Yeah, her name is (Y/N)! She’s the one right over there, I think she could use a good time.”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up when she heard her name, her eyes shooting over to where her friends were standing in a group in front of a large building. All of them were looking at her, covering their faces with their hands to hide their giggles. Dread filled her to the brim when she saw the sign in front of the building, her face paling in horror.

“That one, eh? I think we can arrange something like that,” the brothel owner said, a smug smile on his lips as he stared at her, his grin only widening as her cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “Don’t worry, I’ve got one in particular that could give you a good ride. He’s expensive since he’s my most popular, but he’s worth it.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, her cheeks on fire as her brain fought to think of something, anything to get her out of this situation. She didn’t want to fuck some random stranger for no reason, but she especially didn’t want to have sex in a brothel. She found them vulgar, repulsive, and horrible. The way they treated their “workers” was appalling. Just as the words finally reached the tip of her tongue, one of the girls she had come to the festival with cut off her impending argument.

“Damn, I’m jealous! If he’s that good I’m almost tempted to take him myself. But she needs this. She hasn’t loosened up the entire time we’ve been here and I think this might help. She’ll take him.”

The greasy man smiled and wrote her name down, happily accepting the roll of cash her friend handed him before getting up, supposedly to let the man know that he had another customer on the way. (Y/N) tried to escape when she could, but her friends rushed up and caught her before she could slip into the shadows, dragging her over to the brothel and shoving her towards an open door where the brothel owner stood, a creepy smile still plastered on his face.

“Guys! I don’t want this!” (Y/N) whispered frantically as she was dragged towards her doom.

“It doesn’t matter if you want it or not, you need it!” One of her friends said with a laugh. “Besides, you’re going to have a fun time. Don’t make us regret spending that money for you!”

(Y/N) was practically thrown into the room, stumbling as she fought to catch her balance, before the door was slammed shut behind her, the loud sound of the lock being latched reverberating around the room with the finality of a death toll. Huffing in anger, (Y/N) stood and brushed herself off, smoothing out her dress and straightening back up to her full height, fighting off the panic slithering up her spine.

A low groan of pain coming from behind her made her whirl around in surprise, her eyes landing on a shorter, pale skinned man with stunning silver eyes and raven black hair. Gods he looked pathetic. She could definitely tell he was attractive, it made sense now as to why he was a popular choice, but he looked sickly, his cheeks hollowed out, dark circles under his eyes, and a muscled yet neglected body starting to wear thin from years of hunger and constant overuse. The sight made her want to be sick. How could anybody be cruel enough to force themselves onto this obviously abused man? How could anyone willingly pay money to fuck him rather than help him?

“Um, hello,” (Y/N) said quietly. “W-What’s your name?”

The man raised an eyebrow, not used to the soft, kind, almost shy way she asked for his name. The women and occasional men he dealt with most of the time were demanding, controlling, and sadistic, knowing they paid for a man they could use, and their voices usually projected that. Yet, this woman looked as if she had been forced to do this, further supported by the way she had been nearly thrown into the room by whom he assumed was her friends.

“Levi,” he said quietly, waiting for the usual routine to start, no matter how much his gut twisted in disgust at the thought.

“Hi, Levi, I’m (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)...” Levi murmured softly, training himself to memorize it despite his swimming brain, knowing she would want him to scream it out later. Whether in pain or in pleasure, he wasn’t sure yet.

“Um…” (Y/N) was about to speak, her mind scrambling for something to say when her eye caught sight of a large bruise on his neck. Her eyes widened and suddenly started scanning his entire body, her stomach roiling more and more the longer she stared. Now that she was really paying attention, (Y/N) could see painful bites, hickeys, and splotchy bruises littering his neck, jaw, chest, and thighs. Her eyes narrowed on the long, bloody scratches running down the length of his chest and back, and she noticed blooming red patches of skin all over him that were raw and aching from being slapped hard and rough over and over again.

He was wearing a loose pair of worn boxers as his only cover, and (Y/N) could only imagine what other horrors the thin cloth was hiding. Glancing down, she saw him shift uncomfortably, his boxers tented by his arousal. The sight made her growl in anger, knowing that to keep him going after he had already had so many customers for the day, a drug was being used to make him insatiable, forcing him past the point of pain and probably clouding his judgement and mental process as well. It made her want to go cut up the brothel owner and serve him to a pig.

Without thinking, (Y/N) rushed to him, reaching out to him, only to freeze when he flinched. She heard him curse at the involuntary movement, knowing it was his job to appear as unaffected and sexually appealing as possible, and it made her heart clench even harder, her hatred for this place and the people who ran it increasing tenfold.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) immediately slowed her movements, trying to appear as calm and unhurried as possible. Her gaze softened and glazed with unshed tears when he closed his eyes, his arms reaching out as he prepared for her to sit on his lap and have her way with him like she knew every other man and woman who used him did. Gritting her teeth against the fury she felt, she carefully slid her way across his thighs. She felt him force himself to relax under her as he leaned forward to let her kiss him.

When he felt nothing, and heard something click, Levi cracked open his eyes in curiosity, only to have them fly open all the way when he felt something cool and wet against his neck. Looking down at the woman in his arms, his lips parted in shock, watching in confused awe as she leaned back and soaked a small cloth in some water from a bottle, rinsing the fresh blood from the fabric. Looking to the side, he saw a small first aid kit by her feet, the container open to reveal a variety of medical tools inside.

(Y/N) leaned forward again, raising the towel to his neck to dab at his abrasions, washing them carefully, reverently, almost... lovingly. Levi opened and closed his mouth but no words came out as she continued to work on him, delicately cleaning his jaw and neck before carefully moving on to his chest. Was this some kind of strange ritual she always performed during sex? Did she just find him dirty and want to clean him up before putting her lips or her pussy on his skin? His mind was running a million miles a minute as she worked on him in silence, only pausing when he hissed quietly at the feeling of his gashes being washed.

(Y/N) frowned as she gently swiped the cloth along the red gouges in his skin. They were deep, most likely caused by the long, sharp nail extensions some ladies liked to wear, or the dull blade of a man with violent tendencies. It didn’t surprise her, a lot of the men and women who used people like this did have sadistic qualities, but it didn’t help to quell the now roaring fire in her blood, wanting nothing more than to fight against the injustice of this man.

“W-What are you doing?” Levi finally managed to ask.

“Cleaning your wounds.”

“Why? Is this some kind of-”

“Preparation? No. We aren’t going to do anything. I just want to help your injuries heal.”

Levi felt like his brain was full of static, like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He wasn’t complaining, far from it, but he couldn’t get a reading on this woman. Why would she, a noble from the surface, want to help him, a hopeless whore from the Underground?

“Wha-”

“Before you ask what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I didn’t even want to do this. I was forced to come to this festival because my father wants me to become more of a proper noble woman. But since I wasn’t too thrilled about having to be here, the people I came with thought I could use an opportunity to loosen up, and paid for me to do this with you in the hopes that I’d start having fun with them afterwards. But I have no intention of doing any of that. I hate how everyone in the Underground is treated like shit, and the last thing I want to do is take advantage of someone who obviously isn’t in control of his situation. I just want to help.”

Levi closed his mouth, all of his protests dying on his tongue. He still had questions, a lot of them, but he decided those could wait, her explanation making him feel surprisingly relaxed for someone who had trained himself to never take the word of a noble at face value. He had never met anyone like her. Even before he was forced to whore himself out, all he had ever known of nobles was their complete lack of humility and egotistical sense of self-importance.

It was silent for a moment, but this time, the silence was more comfortable, both of them starting to relax a little as (Y/N) continued to patch him up. Levi felt himself loosen up a bit, his muscles unwinding as his hands settled on her waist, keeping her securely balanced on his lap as she worked. Pride swirled in (Y/N)’s chest as she felt his tense muscles soften, her eyes sparkling as she started to work her way towards earning his trust.

“What’s your happiest memory?” (Y/N) asked suddenly.

Levi quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, “Why should I tell you, brat?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head and stifling a giggle at the nickname. “I only asked because I figured we may as well talk while we do this. Not only that, I feel like you could use some happiness right now. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you don’t want to talk to me, you don’t have to.”

Levi was silent for a minute, the cogs in his mind turning as he tried to make what he believed to be the right decision despite the fog clouding his judgement. Just as she had promised, (Y/N) waited patiently, not pressuring him to answer, or even bringing up another question. She merely sat in silence, her clear (e/c) eyes narrowed on his injuries as she worked to make him feel better.

“There was a time when I was with my friend Farlan, a few years back. We were doing a job, trying to get rid of a troublesome merchant for a client of ours when we found out the merchant had a cat. We were hiding around the corner, waiting to strike when that damn cat jumped up onto Farlan’s lap. I’m fine with cats, but that was the day we found out Farlan had some kind of allergy to them. He was trying to hold back his sneezes but finally lost control right when the merchant came around the corner, and Farlan ended up sneezing really violently in his face. That merchant got so scared he must’ve jumped at least three feet in the air, and even managed to piss himself before he took off. We still had to finish him off later, but in that moment, when Farlan was mortified and our target was running for the hills because of a cat induced sneeze, I couldn’t help but laugh a little.”

(Y/N) had paused in her work to listen to him, and couldn’t help but smile when he finished his story. Going back to work, (Y/N) didn’t ask what happened to Farlan, not wanting to drag him back down after she had finally gotten him to talk to her, about something so personal no less.

“What about you?” Levi asked.

“Hmm, I think I’d have to say when I got my horse for my birthday,” (Y/N) said. “I was never around the horses, wasn’t allowed to be in the barn because it wasn’t “proper for a lady”. But I loved them, loved seeing them on the streets when other nobles would come visit my father or when the soldiers from the Survey Corps would come back from a mission. I couldn’t stay away, so no matter how much my father tried to squash my love of them, it just wouldn’t happen. My mother eventually convinced him to let it go, and surprised me with a little chestnut filly that I named Sashay when I was about sixteen years old. Now, she’s my best friend. We’ve been through everything together, and she’s the only one who doesn’t try to force me to be something I’m not. Aside from the royal guards, I guess. They learned a long time ago to stop trying to get me to sit still and look pretty when I beat all of them in the sword fighting ring.”

Levi’s brows shot up into his hair at that, his lips parting in surprise. “You know how to sword fight?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Yeah, not what you were expecting, huh?”

“No,” Levi said. “I’ve never heard of a noble woman who could fight, let alone with a blade. Are you any good?”

“I tend to think so, but that all depends on who I’m up against,” (Y/N) said with a cheeky smile.

For some reason, Levi couldn’t help but smile back for the first time in years. His lips felt chapped and strained from disuse, but it felt good, a light feeling flooding his chest with warmth. “You said earlier that your horse’s name is Sashay,” Levi said, suddenly changing the topic.

“Mm hm.”

“That’s weird.”

(Y/N) giggled at his bluntness, making another fluttering feeling swirl in his chest. He had never met anyone other than Farlan who saw his language as something other than rude.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” (Y/N) said. “But I named her that because she is a sassy chestnut mare. I like to imagine that if she were human, she’d be someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, someone who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but would do so with a spicy attitude. So I named her accordingly.”

Levi huffed a laugh at her response but almost immediately regretted it when the movement of his chest caused the rough gauze at her fingertips to brush against his injuries a little harder than before, the stinging sensation making him hiss in pain.

“Sorry!” (Y/N) said, quickly retracting her hands and holding them up, waiting for him to give her the signal to continue.

“Not your fault,” Levi mumbled, motioning that it was alright for her to get back to work. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I said that before.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I want to do this.”

Levi wanted to ask her why but remembered what she had told him at the start of this and decided to trust her word, swallowing the question and instead changing topics. “Why do you even have this? Do you always just carry a first aid kit around?”

“Only when I come to the Underground. I want to have it available for those who really need it.”

“You do know that at least half of the people down here would kill you without a second thought to get to that medicine. Or they’d kill you if they thought you were pitying them.”

“I know, but I’d like to think I can handle myself a bit more than the average person. Even so, I usually keep it hidden unless I really want or need to use it on someone, and it’s only for quick patch-ups anyway. I can’t really fix anything major.”

(Y/N) finally finished with his front and carefully slid off of his thighs, moving slowly to begin working on his back. She made sure he was okay with everything she was doing before settling herself down onto the edge of the bed behind him, her hands reaching up to start her work once more.

Levi wanted to know more about her. He felt as if he could talk to her for hours, as if he had known her for years. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, what her vision was for the future. It was insane, so much so that Levi idly wondered if he’d fallen off the deep end. But he couldn’t deny it. She was just too intriguing, so surprisingly kind, so genuine.

What was your childhood like? What are your favorite things to do? Do you come down here often? When will I see you again?

The questions continued to rattle around in Levi’s head as they once again lapsed into a comfortable silence but he forced all of them back, not wanting to seem either too desperate to get to know her, or be seen as coming on too strong.

After debating with himself for a while, Levi finally settled on, “You’ve mentioned your father a lot, and how he doesn’t want you to be yourself.”

(Y/N) tensed a little, her face twisted in a grimace behind Levi’s back. “Yeah… he used to be better about it, but ever since my mother died, he’s been like a tyrant. He’s upset he didn’t get a son in the first place, but now that he’s stuck with me for a daughter, he’s even more disappointed that I’m not someone he can easily make profits off of by marrying me off to someone. Not only have I been adamant about not allowing it, but no nobleman wants a woman who can think for herself. A woman who can ride a horse, go toe to toe with her soldiers, has an opinion, and is knowledgeable about current conflicts. They want someone who will dress up all pretty for them and be in bed, ready to satisfy them when they get home from gambling and drinking all day while sitting on their parents’ money.”

Levi scoffed and (Y/N) huffed in agreement. “I’m just not that kind of person. Every suitor that has ever met me has run away from my casual attire and sailor’s mouth.”

“Your father wasn’t like this when your mother was alive?” Levi asked.

“He was, but he wasn’t as bad. My parents were in an arranged marriage, but they got along alright. At least my father loved my mother enough to listen to her most of the time when she told him to lay off of me. I honestly think she’s the reason why I have such a strong fighting spirit.”

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Levi said awkwardly, not used to providing words of comfort.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) said genuinely, a warm smile gracing her beautiful features.

“I didn’t know my mother that well,” Levi said haltingly, still unsure why he felt comfortable telling her about things he hadn’t even talked to Farlan about. “She died of a disease when I was four years old. She was a prostitute, like me, so I never knew my father. When she died, I was picked up by a man named Kenny, who I thought might’ve been my father for a short while, but as I grew older, I realized he wasn’t. I don’t have any proof, I just know. When he abandoned me at ten, I was alone for a few years before I met Farlan.”

“So… you didn’t get stuck doing this because of your mother?” (Y/N) asked carefully, almost afraid to ask in case it made him shy away from her.

“No,” Levi said slowly. “I was twenty years old when I was caught stealing from a rich friend of this brothel owner. I had made a mistake and there was no way out. He figured out who I was, a thug who was known at the time for carrying out favors for people, whether that meant stealing or killing depended on how much they were willing to pay. Unfortunately, this led them to Farlan, and he gave me a choice. Me, or my best and only friend.”

“And you chose to save your friend at the expense of yourself,” (Y/N) finished for him in a hoarse whisper, filled with horror and unbridled fury at what this man had been through. She figured she should’ve been alarmed, he had just admitted that he had blood on his hands. He was a thief, a thug, a criminal, a murderer. But (Y/N) knew those things were nearly requirements for living in the Underground and no matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anything that would make this man deserve what he was going through.

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something just as she put the last bandage in place when a loud pounding on the door startled them both. “Time’s up, you two!” The brothel owner shouted through the door.

(Y/N) shot up from the bed and rushed around to where the water and first aid kit sat, quickly packing up the little box of supplies and splashing her face with water, trying to make herself look sweaty enough to look convincing. Once everything had been packed away, (Y/N) stood and shrugged off her leather jacket, throwing it to him.

“Here, take this, it’ll keep your boss from seeing the bandages and trying to get rid of them. It’ll also give your injuries a little more protection from the bacteria in this room.”

Levi wanted to refuse, tell her he couldn’t accept a gift like this, even if it was temporary, but no words would come out as he watched the beautiful woman in front of him mess up her hair and swipe her fingers across her lips, trying to make herself look as wrecked as possible. When she finally looked the part enough to seem convincing, (Y/N) made her way to the door, turning one last time before she opened it to throw him a wink and a sweet smile.

“~Goodbye Levi, I hope we can see each other again soon.”

The lilt in her voice was fake, an act for anyone who may be listening on the other side of the door, meant to be taken as a sickly promise of more sexual endeavors to come, but he could feel the genuine emotion in her statement.

“I hope so too,” Levi said quietly after she had already left, the once comforting quiet of his room now making him feel lonely and empty.

The sound of pounding on his door woke Levi abruptly, making the raven-haired man growl in anger and annoyance. It was rare that the poor man got to sleep, not only because customers could come in at almost any time, day or night, but also because of the horrible insomnia that often plagued him. It made him even more irritable to be woken up, his body sore and his mind groggy as another round of pounding roused him further and prompted him to swing his legs over the side of the small cot he was provided when not busy fucking, and make his way to the door.

“What?” Levi snapped when he swung open the door, genuinely surprised that the pig who owned him hadn’t just burst into his room like he always did, raving about yet another customer for Levi.

“Get your shit, you’re going to the surface.”

Levi blinked. This had to be some kind of joke. The brothel owner never let anyone under his foot leave the brothel, let alone the Underground. Even the highest class noble women couldn’t request for him to come to them, the old man not trusting his prostitutes to be sent back. Especially Levi.

“Oi, your ears gone to shit now? Grab your pathetic bullshit and get out of my sight,” the man snarled, his small, watery eyes narrowed on Levi like he was the scum of the world.

Shaking himself out of it, Levi didn’t hesitate for another moment, rushing back into his room to grab the pitifully few things he had with him, including the leather jacket he had gotten from (Y/N), draping it over his shoulders to hide his healing injuries just in case it was a trick. The festival was still going on afterall, this could just be some ruse the old man set up to make the experience more interesting for the men and women who paid for him.

When Levi returned, the man pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and jerked his head, signaling Levi to follow him. Levi knew better than to risk running. In his full health he could’ve easily escaped from the man’s clutches, but with little more than a half hour of rest, his injured body, weak muscles, and the remnants of the drugs still working through his system, Levi didn’t trust himself to outrun a bullet, and knew the pig wouldn’t hesitate to fire, no matter how valuable Levi was to him.

Even though Levi kept expecting the brothel owner to turn down a secluded street and lead him right into an ambush or trick of some sort, he never did, leading Levi right to the stairs exiting the Underground. When they reached the guards at the base of the stairs, the man took two slips of paper from the inner pocket of his worn brown coat and showed it to the guard. When he was cleared to continue on, the brothel owner turned and motioned for Levi to stay close as he stomped his way up the stairs, grumbling incoherently to himself all the while.

Breaching the surface, Levi brought an arm to his face, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the sun as it attacked his face with warm, bright light. He eventually got used to it, slowly lowering his arm and rushing to catch up with his boss, who was impatiently grunting for him to hurry up.

Passing through what appeared to be a busy market square, Levi followed the brothel owner along the lively cobblestone streets until they reached a quieter part of the town, stopping along the edge of a beautiful flower field, the grassy meadow filled with colorful blossoms that secretly took Levi’s breath away.

The sound of horse hooves caught his attention, and Levi looked up only to have the air fly from his lungs when (Y/N)’s bright face came into view, the stunning woman seated astride whom he assumed to be Sashay and flanked by two armed men.

“Right on time,” the brothel owner grumbled, his little pig eyes narrowing when he saw her passive aggressive smile.

“Of course I’m on time, this is my deal, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man growled. “Are you sure you want this one? He’s my most popular, I’d hate to lose him.”

“Yes, he’s the one I want. Besides, I believe the money I’ve paid you has far exceeded the profit you have earned from having him around. I’m sure you will be able to manage.”

The man sneered at her but didn’t respond, using the muzzle of the gun to push Levi forward and digging in his pocket to fish out the same pieces of paper he had shown the guards on the stairs, handing them to (Y/N).

“Thank you, sir. I believe we are done here.”

The brothel owner slunk off, casting dark looks at her but refusing to argue as he hunkered off to head back down to the Underground, where he would continue to rot like the rat he was. Levi watched him go before turning to (Y/N), surprised by the bright smile she flashed him when he met her gaze.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

(Y/N) smiled even wider and held up the pieces of paper she had been handed. One of them was the file labeling him as a slave to the brothel owner, keeping him from escaping, and the other was a bill of sale. His eyes widened when he saw her signature on the bottom of both pages, officially registering her as his new owner. He opened his mouth, about to speak when she took both pages in her hands and ripped them in half, letting the torn pages float onto the street below, forgotten, useless.

“There, you’re free now.”

Levi was at a loss for words, his mouth gaping open. “(Y/N)? What-”

“Before you ask me what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about your life, your sacrifice, your pain, and I decided I could do something about it. You are human, and damn it, you are an important one! I couldn’t just leave you there. Now, you won’t have to work for anyone but yourself. You won’t have to cater to anyone else’s needs and you can fulfill whatever dreams you have.”

“But, that must’ve cost you a fortune, to cover more than the amount of money he’s made off of using me? What about-”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Levi. I want to use my funds for good, put them towards the people who need it the most. That includes you. Especially you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to stay in that shit hole for even a second longer than necessary.”

“What do I do now, then?” Levi asked, trying to focus on keeping his voice steady.

“Well, you can do whatever you want now. You’re a free man, you can find a house and settle down somewhere, or you can go back to the Underground and pick up your life where you left off. You can join the military, or you can start a small business here in the square. It’s anything you want. You get to choose your life now.”

“And what if I don’t want to do any of those things?”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face then, her heart filling with warmth. “Like I said, it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want, carve your own path, but if you want to come with me, you’re always welcome to.”

Levi’s lip twitched and he took a step forward, reaching up to pat Sashay’s muzzle as he got closer. “Alright, I’ll follow you.”

(Y/N) beamed before turning around to nod at each one of her guards, dismissing them. When they had left, presumably returning to (Y/N)’s family estate, she reached down for him, her hand extended for him to take. Placing his rough palm into her warm hand, he allowed her to help him up into the saddle behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep himself secure as (Y/N) kicked Sashay into an easy canter. Sighing blissfully, Levi let himself relax, his chin coming down to rest on (Y/N)’s shoulder as they made their way home, together.

Levi had never expected to see the day when he would willingly go with a noble, but then again, he never thought he’d ever meet a noble like (Y/N). Now, as he felt her warmth soak into his chest, he knew he’d made the right decision.

Levi finally felt the remnant effects of the drugs in his system fade away as the sun beams broke through the fluffy clouds in the sky, leaving his mind clear. He was making this decision all on his own, nothing left to impair his judgement, and no matter what, he knew he would never regret the path he chose to take just so long as (Y/N) stayed by his side.

152 notes · View notes

levicanpunchme · 3 years

Text

Levi X Y/N

Genre: Romance/Fluff/Modern AU

Warning: sexual references

Summary: You attend a business party with your boyfriend, Levi in hopes of introducing yourself but things turn hazy when a blonde idiot keeps staring at you. Levi’s burning anguish strikes.

Mine

The large dining hall was illuminated with yellow candles, creating a sophisticated atmosphere for the various honourable guests. The darkness of the hall suffocated you, making you clench onto your purse tighter. These high society parties were not your cup of tea; they made you uncomfortable. If you could, you’d never again breathe next to these oblivious, high nosed women who flaunted their lavished lifestyle which their husbands had earned after dirty business work. What was there to be so proud of-? You wondered. When they spoke to you, you heard the discreet arrogance in their tone and it made you want to scream.

You desperately avoided these events; however, this time, you wanted to formerly introduce yourself-after all your boyfriend was a well established businessman. He was required to attend such parties and ever since he told you about the women throwing themselves at him, you couldn’t help jump into an elegant dress and rush to join his side.

Your lips touching the rim of your glass paused when you caught sight of your raven haired boyfriend in a black suit, wearing a blank expression on his face as a domineering aura surrounded him. This was the first time you had asked to join him in such an event and you were kind-of-glad you did. He looked awfully attractive, his eyes forecasting a shadowy glow in the darkness of the hall. He was the centre of attention; not just because of his godly appearance but also his reputable character.

Levi Ackerman was the sole owner of X company, a name in the higher ups of the world’s largest food industry. His work ethics were widely praised all over the country and every businessman was desperate to earn an opportunity to work with him. His work ethics were a reflection of his character. He had started at the bottom of the chain and earned his way up, struggle after struggle.

You were so proud to call him yours.

“My husband wanted to donate to the local NGO and I was personally against it because we already do so much. We take part in various charitable events after all.” - for publicity, a voice completed in your head. You smiled to yourself at the hypocrisy of the rich brats.

You rolled your eyes, looking back at your boyfriend on the other table and you noticed he was already staring at you. His eyes carefully read your expression. He immediately realised your discomfort and rose from his seat, taking wide strides towards you. Your eyes widened when he grabbed your hand and tugged at you to stand up with him. The five ladies on the table quickly shut up as they softly greeted Levi, their voices growing coy and shy. They sounded so sweet as if they weren’t already married; it made you want to puke.

As Levi clasped his arm around your waist, he silently nodded at the ladies not even sparing them a glance as he walked away with you back to his table. You almost smirked back at the women but restrained yourself, knowing you couldn’t afford to trample over Levi’s reputation by falling into a childish girly scuffle.

“You have to pay me when we get home for saving your ass back there,” he softly whispered against your frame, causing goosebumps to awaken on your skin. You glanced at him and laughed at the dark glaze in his eyes.

“I didn’t need any saving,” you replied back, your challenging gaze daring him to say otherwise. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a soft smile on his lips and then whispered back. “We’ll see about that at home.”

Your stomach flipped.

Levi casually pulled you with him to his table and sat you down next to him. You stared, wide eyed. He was currently sitting around huge business tycoons, discussing future arrangements. You noticed the blonde man sitting opposite to Levi and froze up. He was the man Levi was bidding on for future collaborations as he was the second largest producer in food industry in the world.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/n L/n.” You didn’t realise when he introduced you and quickly sat up, smiling at the men as you greeted them.

“Oh, how wonderful! They say behind every successful man stands a woman,” one of the older men stated and Levi nodded firmly. “Indeed.” And you looked at Levi explicitly.

You felt a wave of emotions course through you and suddenly you wanted to kiss him. Levi was so hardworking. He had struggled for every opportunity in his career and deserved every ounce of the success he currently had. You wanted to throw away everything to make him happy.

“How beautiful,” you gazed away from your boyfriend to the origins of the voice and sat frigid. The blonde, thin-lipped man was staring at you with a strange glint in his eyes, a smirk uplifting his lips as he eyed you up and down.

“Are you currently studying?” the blonde man slurred, his British accent becoming more apparent now. You felt chills run down your spine as you noticed his eyes wander to your cleavage and it made you feel icky. You knew his intentions were dirty but it didn’t matter. You wouldn’t see him ever again after today. You never wanted anyone to stare at you like that. It made your insides crawl. It made you feel insignificant, demoralised and inferior.

You gulped and smiled indifferently. “Journalism,” you answered and looked away quickly. You noticed Levi’s hand clench tightly under the table and panic rippled in your chest. You quickly grabbed his hand, fear racking your head. Levi would singlehandedly destroy anyone who looked at you with nasty intentions and you knew that. You were a witness to it once when you were drunk after a university gathering and a man tried to take you home. Levi had stalked down the street and knocked the man’s front tooth out before safely taking you back to his place.

He was so full of anguish that he almost got the man kicked out of uni. Fortunately, you managed to stop him before things escalated.

“Levi,” you muttered, your mind going blank as you noticed the awakening demon in his eyes; his darkening predatory stare trained at the man, his mouth tightly shut and jaw clenched. You suddenly wanted to evaporate. You tried to appease him as you stroked his large hand, your soft skin gliding against his callous one. He reacted by gripping your hand tightly, holding it. He still didn’t spare you a glance and kept his drilling gaze trained at the man in front.

“Journalism? So you’re one of the smart ones.” His eyes were hazy and tone lousy due to heavy alcohol consumption. His eyes again feasted at your exposed skin and you shrunk into your chair, your heart clashing against your chest. You noticed the dead silence pinning the table as everyone felt the thick tension from Levi’s disgusted stare. Your hold on Levi’s hand grew tighter, forcing him to look at you.

“I’m fine, don’t do anything rash,” you whispered but it seemed like your plea went through him, unheard.

You realised that if the man said anything more, Levi would definitely charge at him. You had to get out of here before it was too late.

“Excuse me, I’m heading to the washroom,” you muttered and gave Levi’s hand another comforting squeeze before standing to leave. You didn’t look back as you hurried to the washrooms. You planned on spending the rest of the night in the lavatory since the party was just awfully disappointing.

You wanted to stand beside Levi but not under the current circumstances. The blonde smug idiot was the most influential in the field and you wanted to do nothing to sabotage your boyfriend’s future goals.

You locked yourself in one of the stalls and sat down annoyedly. It was supposed to be a fun night out with your boyfriend. You didn’t know a rich party full of influential businessmen was just a pathetic havoc wreaking battlefield. You mentally promised to never ask Levi to take you to another event. You annoyedly massaged your forehead in slow circles, hoping to ease the ache.

“Excuse me,” you heard a shrill voice call out as someone knocked from outside. You sat up alarmed.

“Yes?” You replied unsurely.

“I think your boyfriend is outside the washroom waiting for you.” You stood up, your eyes zeroing as you whipped the door open. A brunette haired woman stood before you. “You’re Levi Ackerman’s girlfriend, right? He asked me to check inside for you,” she told you, giggling and then stepped to the sink, resuming back to washing her hands.

You rushed for the door and abruptly pulled it open, stepping outside. As expected, Levi was stationed against the wall, his eyes already tracing yours, needy and impatient. He stepped towards you and pulled you close to him, his fingers grazing your exposed neckline and you heard him breath you in.

“We’re going home,” he whispered into your neck. You nodded hesitantly as he held your hand tightly and marched out to the hall. You almost gasped- as everyone was staring at you both, thick tension brewing in the air. It seemed like you were under spotlight. Levi’s gaze was unaffectedly cold as he stayed upright. Standing beside him was a privilege since Levi had a significant presence to mobilise the crowd to stop and stare.

But this was different. Everyone was whispering and murmuring among themselves as they stared at you horrified. You wondered what had happened for everyone to be so silent and meek around him. Your gaze fearfully swayed to the table where the blonde man had been and you were shell shocked when you noticed a heavy purple bruise under his eye. Your body grew cold as you looked at Levi shocked. He noticed your questioning gaze but only responded by pulling you closer to him.

When you both were out the premises, inside the car park, you pulled at his hold. “Levi, how could you attack a powerful businessman! Have you gone mad?” You gasped, finding it hard to comprehend. He didn’t answer you and kept his moderate pace towards the car.

“Levi, I’m talking to you!” You shrieked, your eyes growing large with anger. He finally halted in his tracks and turned towards you, his eyes burning with seething anger, his fists still clenched, a bluish bruise starting to form on his right fist.

“We need to get out of here before I do something worse,” he spat, his aggressive voice making your throat dry. You felt the frustration building in your chest and your eyes burned with tears.

“You’ve ruined a great opportunity! Do you think he’ll let this go? He won’t-!” You yelled, your head pounding as you felt desperate enough to cry out. “Levi, you’ve worked so hard for this,” you cried, your heart aching.

He was adamant on establishing himself. Never losing sight of his goals, he spent a year working on his startup. He earned investments after tirelessly sacrificing sleep and lunch, date nights and family dinners. You loved him so much, so much that you were always supportive. His absence made you so lonely yet you never complained; there were nights you wanted him to hold you, days you wanted him to listen to your grieving heart, but it was best to not bother him. You internally ached and slowly the ache started to disappear when he came back. After successfully earning a huge investment, everything changed. It was like his pot of love for you flooded and spilled everywhere, unable to be contained. He stopped working excessively. He became so clingy, so needy for your presence, it drove you insane- in a good way.

“Y/n, why’re you crying?” His stern voice caused your body to shrink, goosebumps awakening on your skin. His eyes were so thunderously dark, waves of anger rippling in his frame.

“Because!” You croaked, you sounded awfully hurt. “How could you ruin chances of growing this? After you’ve worked so hard for it!” You shouted, your face angry red with tears spilling out. You were so angry and frustrated that you wanted to physically beat someone.

Levi’s chest was heaving as he stared at you, his face pinning you down, holding you captive. “You care about my fucking business right now?” He sounded hurt as well, his raspy voice so quiet, you could tell he was boiling.

“Yes!” You cried. “You’ve wanted this so bad. After this deal, you would’ve been unbeatable Levi!” You threw your hands in despair, the frown on your face deepening. Levi’s body shook as he stepped closer and before you could register it, he had grabbed your wrist and slammed you to the car, his arms immediately protecting your anterior from pain. A loud clash was heard as he pinned you beneath him, his breathing heavy, his eyes glazed.

“I’ve worked so hard, day after day so you can stand next to me without shame. You deserve someone strong and I was so pathetic back then,” he stated, his eyes trained on yours as he truthfully uttered. Each word pained you more than you could imagine. Your heart began to break, tears rolling down your cheeks like a stream.

“How could I be with you, such a gorgeous, strong woman? I was unworthy and it made my blood boil.” His confession left you utterly speechless. “Hange said I should give you up. It’s an easy way out but the thought of that kept me up at night.” Hange was Levi’s best friend from college and now a dear friend of yours. You were completely unaware of these conversations.

“The fact that Hange even mentioned that made me sick. That night, I decided to be worthy of you. Because you’re mine. I can give up this whole world but never you,” he whispered and his mouth found your neck.

“W-why didn’t you ever tell me?” You contained your moans, crying out in pain and awe as Levi’s teeth dug in your collarbone. His tongue slickly traced the bite mark across the neckline as he tasted you to his fulfilment.

“Because you don’t need to care about it,” he rasped, his heavy pants taking over your head making you twitch and turn in his hold.

“I’ve achieved enough to protect you,” he whispered against your skin and dropped wet kisses down to your cleavage.

“I want to rip his filthy fucking eyes out for looking at you like that, y/n,” he roared, the bitterness returning; his eyes remained on yours, watching you throw your head back as he satiated his hunger. His kisses grew desperate, needy- his hand against your waist tightening as he pulled you into him.

Your body reacted on its own, curling into his hot frame. Everything felt hot: from the heavy breaths exhaled against your neck to the hand gripping your waist. Your face was probably on fire and you felt so dirty for letting him submit to his desires outside in a car-park where anyone could walk in and watch a show. But it also felt so euphoric, to have him desperately feasting on you that you couldn’t reject him.

Jealous Levi made your stomach pool.

“You’re only mine-how dare that fucking crook stare at you like that,” his words were cut off as he painfully dug his teeth into your breast, a gasp escaping from your mouth.

“Levi,” you breathed, your body aching like you had caught a fever. He heard you clear and your airy words turned him on more than ever because he started to push himself into you, kisses trailing into your chest.

You felt him. You almost screamed because he was so brutally turned on, you shook against his frame, your legs falling weak. He supported you as he held you tightly, digging his nose into your hair, inhaling your sweet scent.

You were so heated when you heard footsteps, a heel clicking against a marble floor. Even though, your ears heard the sounds loud and clear, your mind was elsewhere and refused to comprehend or react appropriately by pulling away. You knew you should-this is so embarrassing but you couldn’t get yourself to push Levi away.

You were pulled out of your trance when Levi jerked back, his gaze so pained and hazy. You swear you saw his limbs shake as his chest heaved, his body so rigid, afraid to move or he would fall to the ground. He clenched his fist determinedly and swore under his breath.

“Get in the car-no one sees you like this,” he commanded. You didn’t know what he meant but you obediently ran to the passenger seat and rushed inside, your heart clashing against your chest. In the rear view mirror, you saw yourself and immediately realised what your boyfriend meant. He didn’t want anyone to see you-your hair messy, eyes hooded with intense desperation, your face flushed and breathing heavy; you looked lustrous, so turned on and oozing of desire.

The next second, you heard Levi pull the door and get inside. His forehead was covered in a cast of sweat and his hair was now a mess as if he had run his fingers through the black strands.

“I can’t drive. I literally can’t feel my legs.”

You threw your head back, your frame wreaking with laughter. He glared at you, his eyes still brewing with desire.

“Shut up before I take you here,” he threatened and you quickly shut up. You knew him too well to know that he would actually comply. You gazed at him as he sat inhaling and exhaling, an exercise he sometimes used to recover.

After sitting for ten more painful minutes, he finally drove home and you had never seen him drive so fast. It was going to be a long, long, long night and you were going to enjoy every second of it with Levi.

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fabricated-misslieness · 3 years

Text

Daniel Le Domas x gender neutral reader

Yo I hate Alex that motherfucker but also I think it’d be easier if Daniel killed Tony in the forest and then ran away with Grace, but I guess it’d be safe to bet that others left for the forest when the car got flipped.

Also for some reason my gifs aren’t workin

Requested: No

Word Count: 2847

Warnings: suggested use of drugs because Emilie exists, mentions of hypothetical violence, some angst i think, mentions of a gun in a world war themed board game

Normal AU where Le Domas are a ‘normal’ rich family, still weird, but no deal with the devil.

Servants, lavish parties, gourmet food, expensive alcohol, this was the life you might be inheriting. You say ‘might’ because you’re not married, nor are you getting married.

Your partner, Daniel Le Domas, was born to a rich family, so he was entitled to all these privileges, not that he seemed quite fond of them. Deep down you knew he was, but he for sure didn’t make it clear.

“Don’t worry,” Speak of the devil. He reassures you, squeezing your hand as you walk down the halls to the music room. A music room, for god’s sake! Not speakers, not a radio, but their butler playing the piano. At least they didn’t have a ballroom, that would just be way extra. “We’re a normal family, I promise.”

“Normal?” You raise an eyebrow, gesturing to a nearby seemingly ancient, though you exaggerated that, portrait of a newlywed couple. “All the portraits I’ve seen so far are newlywed couples.”

“That’s normal for rich families.”

“Haha.” You say sarcastically. “But seriously, you can’t even paint them in normal clothes? Not even family pictures of one of your many vacations?”

“First of all, who said we even had vacations?” You assumed they did, seeing as they were wealthy. Doesn’t the average rich person go on vacation twice a year? Whatever, who were you to assume? Though the thought of it is still a little peculiar, so you decide to question it.

“You don’t? No little tour over Europe? No visiting the seven wonders in the span of a week?” You go on and on, suggesting outlandish places.

Daniel nudges your side playfully to get you to stop. “No, haven’t even toured the US.”

You laugh, nudging him back. “You’re no fun, for a board game family.” You pluck a nearby board game from it’s shelf, Yankee Bayonet. Initially, you’d been attracted because of the gun on the box. It's world war one or two themed. “Well, can’t blame you. Don’t know how this would seem fun. What’s it even about?” You put the box back on display before Daniel can scold you for touching it.

“Honestly, I don’t know. There’s so many games, and I’ve barely played a quarter of them. That one, however,” he points at a box further down the hallway, “that one I play-tested as a kid. It’s somewhat fun.”

“Somewhat.”

As you near the end of the hallway, your eyes land on a portrait of Charity. You stop, which makes Daniel stop too. For a second, he’s confused, until he looks up at the portrait. Immediately, he turns to survey you. Among every emotion dancing in your eyes, he catches disturbance, nervousness, and most importantly, a splash of disgust. “Charity.” You say a little bitterly.

“Charity.” He repeats. “That’s where our painting used to be.” He cups your cheek and pulls you to look at him, putting his other hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

You shake your head, putting one hand on his hip and the other on the hand resting on your cheek. “It’s nothing. If I’m going to be with you, I’m going to have to face your family.” Daniel smiles, giving you a quick peck on the nose. He’s glad you’re so willing to get to know them, especially with how much he’s down-talked them, to put it lightly. “The only thing that confuses me is why this is still here. She’s your ex-wife.”

“They took a liking to her.” The both of you grimace. “She was just as crazy as them. Honestly, I don’t see what they see in her. But,” He takes your hand and presses a kiss on it. “I won’t let her bother you. If you want, I’ll even flaunt our relationship more than I would’ve.”

You shake your head, turning towards the next corridor. “No need. I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words, “I’ll be fine.”

You were not fine, in fact, you were a fish out of water. Standing next to the family, you felt severely underdressed, even when you’d gone out your way to wear something fancy. Though that wasn’t the biggest problem. They were all very distinct, but they fit into the family. Of course, they were family, but it made you feel like an outcast.

“(y/n),” Becky greets you with a smile. You offer her a hand, but she gives you a hug instead. You barely manage to reciprocate it. “I’m delighted that you came for a visit."

You give her the best smile you can, hoping she doesn’t notice it’s fake. “I’m glad I’m here with you.” You’d really thought that meeting the family would go smooth, honestly though, how could you? These were rich people, your lifestyle, mannerisms, nothing was even remotely similar to theirs.

“Oh, thank you.” She hands you a glass of champagne which you gingerly take, just to be polite. “I hope you can bring my son back to his old self. He’s never been the same since the divorce!” Before she can take you off towards a couch somewhere, Daniel stops her. He’d excused himself for some whiskey when you made it to the entrance and promised he’d make it quick.

“Mom.” He scolds lightly. He takes the drink from your hands and leaves it on a servant’s tray, knowing you’re not one for fancy champagne.

“Daniel.” Her face lights up. She gives him a quick hug, which you notice Daniel is a bit uncomfortable in. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” She teases.

Daniel nods rather stiffly, moving to your side and taking your hand almost immediately. “Been busy.” The whole family knows that ‘busy’ meant being with you, yet he covers up for it anyway.

“I know, I know. They’re a nice catch, by the way.” Becky pats you on the shoulder, a gesture both you and Daniel seem to dislike. “Well, I better not keep you for any longer. I’m sure the rest of the family is eager to meet you.” For some reason, you highly doubt that.

Becky leaves you for another glass of champagne. Daniel turns to you once she’s gone. “You okay?” He holds your hands in his in the hopes it’ll comfort you.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He can tell you’re lying, you’re not hiding it very well. He gives you a knowing look, pushing you to tell the truth. “Alright, I’m not okay. Charity and your aunt have been eyeing me up since we arrived, your dad looks way older than your mom, Emily and Finch seem too happy to be real, your nephews are creepy, and Alex and Grace both look like they want to leave. That’s not reassuring, now is it?” Your ever rising tone makes Daniel squeeze your hands to stop you.

“Honey, they’re harmless.” He knows that’s an awful way of reassuring someone, but he knows that no matter what he says, you’ll still be doubtful.

You frown, letting out a sigh through your nose. “I know they’re harmless, but..” You bite your lip, trying to find a way to sugar coat your words. “Charity looks like she wants to kill me and your aunt looks like she could skin me alive without even blinking.”

“Look,” He brings his hands to cup your cheeks. “there’s nothing to worry about. From now on, I won’t leave your side. And if I need a refill, I’ll bring you with me. I love you.”

You sigh again, closing your eyes. In the end, you nod, opening them back up to look at him. “I love you too.”

“Good,” He brings you in for a chaste kiss. “Let’s go fuck them, like mom says.”

"She really says that?"

Daniel was right, they were harmless. Well, you hadn’t talked to Charity, but at least you’d talked to the second person giving you a serial killer look, aunt Helene.

Turns out the stink eye was her resting face and that her husband had died tragically. It was the main reason she looked so miserable. She was most likely merely reminiscing about her husband while looking at you two, the newest couple in love. If anything, it made you feel bad for her.

"I'm pretty sure I saw her take a pill like a shot in the hallway." You side glance Emilie as Daniel pulls you off to the side. You were just done talking to her, and somehow, even with all that parental stress, her smile was genuine. She was happy and extremely friendly. Well, so was her husband, but even he had a bit of awkwardness in him. "She's not suffering from anything, is she?"

Daniel shrugs, "Not that I know of."

He sits the both of you down on a loveseat out of earshot from the rest. "Now, we only have to wait until dinner." You nod. "But I have something to tell you. When somebody marries into the family, they have to play a game. It's just tradition. Play the game and you're part of the family, but win it, and you'll gain respect. Might as well get some practice in, right?"

"Did you just propose to me?" You mean it as a joke, but Daniel shrugs and reaches into his pocket. It's a wonder how people aren't looking over right now, well, apart from Charity.

"This is a claddagh ring. It's been sitting in my pocket for ages." He says as he pulls it out of the box. The majority of the ring is normal, but in the middle is a heart with a crown on it. "But, it's up to you how you want to wear it."

"So is this a proposal or..?"

He gives you a quick rundown on the meanings. On the right hand crown pointing towards the fingerprints is single and looking, towards the wrist is taken, on the left ring finger crown pointing towards the fingertips is engaged, and pointing to the wrist is married. Obviously, you're not married or single, so that leaves taken or engaged; and he's giving you that decision.

"You want me to choose?"

Daniel looks like he's regretting his spontaneous and presumably drunken decision. But with a swig of his drink, he smiles again. "Yes. I mean, we've talked about marriage and all but I wasn't sure if you'd be ready. I'm still not sure, but now that you know about it, you might as well wear it."

You admire the ring as you weigh your options. Daniel takes your free hand, absentmindedly playing with your fingers, especially your ring finger.

Engagement is the brightest thing in your heart and mind, despite that, it still finds doubts. Your in-laws, they were weird. But they didn't have anything to hide, they were harmless. On the plus side, you loved Daniel.

That was the final push. You grab Daniel's left hand, sliding the ring down his ring finger with the crown pointing to the fingertips.

Daniel's left hand curls around your right, the metal feels cold against your skin, despite all your fiddling. You look up at him, seeing his brows furrowed with confusion. You speak up before he can, "I might as well be proposing to you, if you're giving me the decision."

Daniel laughs, giving you a kiss followed by an eskimo kiss. He isn't usually one for eskimo kisses, but you figure it's happiness. "Okay, but I'll buy you one."

"Deal." You give him a final kiss before pulling him off the seat. "What should we play?"

"Well, first we have to go to the game room."

"The game room?"

You were hoping the game room was the room with the double doors painted with the name 'Le Domas', seeing as they were a board game family, but apparently not. "It's reserved for family, so technically you're not allowed in. But, we have a game room for parties." Daniel explains on the way. Rich people and their special rooms…

Once inside, Becky plucks a family board game from the shelf, no doubt a Le Baile product. Before you can join them at the couch, however, Charity pulls you off to the side.

Daniel follows, putting his arm around your shoulder protectively. Charity glares at him for a second before turning back to you, it was clear she wanted you alone. "Care for a game of chess?"

"Usually, we play more traditional games, stuff that would be here during my great-great-grandfather's time. He founded the company but the family tradition comes from before most of the games they've created." He whispers quickly into your ear. Due to the quickness, you almost fail to comprehend his words, but luckily you understand them.

"Alright." You agree to the game. Charity leads you over to the chess table, where conveniently, the chess board is already set out.

Daniel pulls a chair from seemingly out of nowhere, setting it down to your side, much to Charity's distaste.

"I got chess when I married in." Somehow she manages to avoid bitterness in her tone. "You should go first."

God, you barely knew the basics.

"So tell me about yourself." Charity speaks up.

You give her a quick rundown, which hopefully doesn't reveal any information that she could use to her advantage. "Interesting." She takes your bishop. "From what I've heard Daniel say, I expected the worst."

Daniel narrows his eyes at her as a warning, though Charity doesn't see. Her eyes are glued to the board.

"I don't know why he'd leave me for you."

"Charity." Daniel warns her.

Charity holds her hands up in mock surrender. "I'm only speaking my mind. But I'll stop now."

She does stop for the remainder of the game, nevertheless there's no doubt in your mind that she has a lot more to say. She beats you quite easily, though she seemed disappointed when the reward was not getting to remarry your new fiancé. It's either that or you'd read her wrong.

"You have much to practice." Becky remarks, taking a sip of her champagne before continuing. "But, you'll get there." She smiles.

You smile back, standing up from your chair. Daniel does so too, almost protectively. He stares ahead towards Charity. The two seem to be having a glaring contest. You decide to ignore them, "I don't know about that."

"Oh, sure you will." Her eyes trail towards your hands when you intertwine them.

"I didn't see that there before. Claddagh ring, left ring finger pointing up." She continues to stare, a little disrespectfully. She notices this before it becomes moderately disrespectful. "You're engaged." Her smile widens.

Her words catch everyone's attention. Almost immediately, Emilie runs over with the brightest smile you'd ever seen.

"Congrats!" She exclaims, reaching out to hold your hand but stopping when she sees it connected to Daniel's. "I can't wait to have you in the family!"

"Thanks."

"They're not normal." You remark as you sit next to Daniel on the bed. The family had insisted that you stay the night, and while that was quite sweet of them, you really wanted to get out of there. They were no longer creepy or ominous, but you want a break. You weren't feeling as social as you did when you came in.

"Can't judge what normal is when they're the only family I've met." Daniel brings the blanket over your legs. "Sorry, anyway."

You shrug, planting a kiss on his forehead. "It's alright. Though that proposal was a little spontaneous."

At the mention of the proposal, Daniel shifts his ring around on his finger. "I was drunk, still am. At least I got it out of my chest. Who knows how long I'd keep it in my pocket otherwise."

"Knowing you, it'd be months, maybe a year."

"Hey!" Daniel whines, nonetheless, it's followed up by a laugh.

You can't help but give him a kiss again, this time on his temple. Daniel moves closer afterwards, pulling you into a proper kiss on the lips.

"Did you like them?" He asks when you pull apart.

You shake your head side to side in a more or less motion. "Mostly. Charity is Charity, you know. Your dad seemed to only focus on the engagement, I think I saw Emilie snort something, I don't know what to feel. Well, your mom is nice, maybe a little too nice. She hopes that I make you behave like you, but I wouldn't know how that is."

"So that's what she was talking to you about." He bites his lip for a second. "Well, don't worry. I believe I behave the way 'I used to' around anybody that isn't them, apart from Alex and Grace."

"Reassuring." You say sarcastically, laying down.

"Seriously? Can't tell the difference?" He lays down, cupping your cheek and allowing you to wrap your arms around him.

"Honestly, yeah. It's a little concerning." You nuzzle into his hand.

"Well, don't be. We'll be back home in no time. After breakfast, though, they're going to insist on that." You groan at the thought. Daniel simply laughs in reply, turning off the lamp.

"Goodnight, sweet dreams. Love ya."

"Love you too."

#daniel le domas x reader #ready or not fanfiction #craving fic #daniel le domas x gender neutral reader #fluff

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nostuntmanneeded · 3 years

Note

I need to rant Mod. Sorry in advance.

The longer AO hangs around, I find myself disliking her more and more. It started with the CA and racism, then her rich, party girl lifestyle, her “activism” which is really just her being completely oblivious of things like ocean life, and her flaunting of Covid rules have all just rubbed me the wrong way.

This woman cares for no one but herself and she doesn’t care who or what she uses or hurts in the process. In the very slim chance that this with Sebastian is real, she is also someone who uses others for her own personal gain. She strikes me as a social climber and it’s obvious her target was Hollywood. That obviously is not going to pan out because you have to have talent in order to make it in Hollywood, not just money to throw around.

I’m sick of people defending her whenever she does something stupid on Instagram. She is not someone who needs defending. She’s someone who needs to be held accountable for all of her actions. Furthermore, (and no I’m not defending his screwups) we need to stop blaming Sebastian for her BS. She is the cultural appropriator, she is the racist, she is the problem. Not him. Stop accusing this man of things he had no part in. (Again I’m not defending him because he’s not perfect; nobody is. But at least he’s exhibited a willingness to learn from his mistakes.) she has shown no desire to change her ways or learn from her mistakes. She continues to want to be an ignorant twit.

Sorry Mod. I’ve seen people defending her on socials and I just couldn’t hold my rant in anymore. 💁🏼‍♀️

(PS: love your blog!! You do an awesome job each day answering these questions and rants!)

You're all good, anon, and this was really well said!

Alejandra has shown time and time again that she's privileged and doesn't care about anything else. She acts as if she can get by with everything because she's blonde and rich.

She clearly doesn't have a good image, and she has shown no intentions on changing her attitude and behavior.

Anyway, thank you for the love!

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lordrethandus · 3 years

Text

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 24

Revelry/Denial ( @daily-writing-challenge, @syrahnbloodfeather )

World: Warcraft

It was a long ride from the gates of the Amber Glade to Silvermoon City.

Syrahn would have preferred to use the portal within the Red Raven to teleport directly into the capital, but her sister Viridias insisted otherwise. “Flaunting your wealth is an important part of your job ruling the Glade.” She could still hear her excited voice hours later. “Even your most mundane errands need to be a spectacle for the commoners. It brings pride to our house and potential investors to our secluded city! So go out and travel in style!” Because of her Syrahn sat in the fanciest carriage she could buy, escorted by a host of guards in the flashiest armor, while she wore a dress worth a small fortune.

She kept her window closed once she reached the gates of Silvermoon City, but the thin veil was not enough to stop her from seeing the gathering crowd ogling at her carriage. She wasn’t a celebrity, or a legendary war heroine returning home; just a privileged woman with the spending power of a prestigious trade prince. Bathing in gold certainly looked desirable from the outside looking in, but this lifestyle wasn’t her; it wasn’t Syrahn.

An accident in the Walk of Elders forced her carriage to take the long way around in order to reach the Bazaar, but the ride through the Royal Exchange brought forth a wave of memories; her encounter with a demon hunter interested in her bounty, the numerous conversations with old friends and bitter enemies alike, meeting all those colorful people she regretfully forgot the names of -- it all felt like a distant dream. She couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the shimmering fountain where she spent hours upon hours sitting in the nearby grass, completely consumed by a fantastic book. Syrahn took those years for granted, convinced she would be a relatively unknown girl few would care about until the end of her days; how she missed those simpler times. They turned the corner beyond Farstriders’ Square and briefly strode by the majestic Sunfury Spire before wisely rushing through the aptly named Murder Row.

Her heart stopped fluttering once she entered the Bazaar. It was fairly empty as always, save for the crowd of people following behind her carriage. The doctor’s office was larger than she remembered, but she didn’t have much time to think about the booming business before her carriage slowed to a halt. The Countess reached out to open the door, but it appeared to be locked from the outside. Before she had a chance to react, her gaze settled on two of her guards rolling out a long carpet between the entrance to the office and her carriage. “Really, Zandis?! Unbelievable!”

Captain Zandis opened the door from the outside and reached in with an extended hand. “My Lady,” she couldn’t see his face underneath his enclosed helmet, but she could hear the smile in his voice all the same. “Your appointment awaits.” The crowd had gathered along both ends of the embroidered carpet, but her regiment of guards kept them beyond reach.

“I can do this.” Syrahn briefly touched her burning cheeks and inhaled sharply before taking his gauntlet.

Her face flushed red the moment the crowd gasped at her attire. Her dress was woven from the giant firemoth silkworms of the Firelands, causing her to seemingly crackle from a thousand cinders dancing off her bodice. A heavy gold chain hung loosely from her neck, supporting a heart-sized ruby encased in chiseled amber. Her gloves were encrusted with dazzling void diamonds from the deepest reaches of Blackrock Mountain, and long elegant heels were tipped with tigerseye gemstones shaped to look like hawkstrider talons. Her elekk ivory crown was fitted with white gold, giving her a glowing halo in the bright sunlight. Lastly a satin gold scarf was entwined between her arms and draped over her bare shoulders. Syrahn felt like a chandelier in this outfit, and she dared not look down lest she be blinded by the reflected light; to add to her embarrassment she was forced to walk slowly in her unconventional heels, or she risked tripping and bouncing her face against the cobblestone street for all to witness. “We will wait outside, Countess.” Zandis started, before turning his back to the building. “No one will disturb your meeting.”

Sitting alone in the doctor’s office was one of the most uncomfortable moments of her life -- in recent memory, at least. She kept her hands busy by turning her crown in her lap for what felt like the better part of the afternoon, but she was far too distracted by her own concerns to complain; they uncovered the worst news she could ever hear the last time she visited this place, but if she was to accept her condition and move on with her life, she needed to be absolutely sure.

Syrahn stiffened once Doctor Falo stepped inside. “Thank you for waiting patiently for so long, Lady Bloodfeather. I could’ve given the results of your blood sample much earlier, but you did insist on checking everything.”

“Yes, that was…” Syrahn couldn’t find the right words to accurately describe that uncomfortable ordeal. “D-did you discover anything…?”

“We did.” He sighed, pausing only to sit in a nearby chair. “I’ve got good news and bad news. Are you ready to hear what I have to say?”

A cold chill ran up Syrahn’s spine, and she took a deep breath to brace herself before speaking. “… yes. I’m ready. Bad news first… please.”

“You have a defect in your heart that’s aggravated by stress. I can only hazard a guess at how much trouble running your Amber Glade can be, but if you don’t find an outlet for your anxiety, your first heart attack may be your last.” Doctor Falo watched her reaction closely. “Also your eyes. Your retinas are wearing out faster than they are supposed to. At this rate you’ll become completely blind within the next century… sixty years at the earliest.”

“Can’t I simply heal it with the Light?” Syrahn asked, now self conscious about her heart pounding against her chest.

Doctor Falo gave her a weak and unconvincing smile. “I’m afraid not. Magic can heal wounds, for a time, but both of your ailments are more or less genetic. For example: if a warrior is crippled from a blow to his spine, magic can put him back on his feet. However if a child is born crippled, there’s nothing that can be done.”

The thought of suffering from a lethal heart attack induced by anxiety and stress made her anxious. Most of her life she worked to attune herself to the Holy Light, and yet she was still powerless to save herself from these plights. “This is… terrible. I can’t believe there’s nothing I- wait, that’s it?”

Falo looked puzzled. “Ma'am these are serious problems. You need to watch your stress levels.”

“But I was diagnosed with her-ahhh… well you know…”

“Your blood is clean. I’d recommend eating more vegetables and less red meat, but aside from your heart and eyes you’re in immaculate health.”

Syrahn wasn’t convinced. “Are you absolutely certain? Doctor Tsurathiel told me otherwise… are you saying she was wrong?”

“She is never wrong.” Doctor Falo assured, smiling briefly. “However the goblin interns working in the lab that processed your sample certainly could be; they often mix up labels in an effort to cut corners... that’s what we get for hiring foreigners, sadly. But don’t worry! I went back there and did your tests myself.” He paused to glance down at his clipboard. “Which... leads me to the good news.”

“That wasn’t the good news…?” Syrahn stiffened up again. “Well what is it?”

“When we took your urine sample we ran all the tests we could, upon your request, of course. It came back negative on everything… except for one.”

“Huh?” The smug grin spread across his face only made his elusiveness all the more confusing. Instead of speaking plainly, Doctor Falo slowly rose from his chair and handed her his clipboard. Syrahn scrunched her nose at the fine print, wondering if her vision was already beginning to fade; her eyes stopped at his elegant handwriting underlined in red, and her whole body went numb.

“Congratulations, Lady Bloodfeather.”

#dwc2021 #day242021 #syrahnbloodfeather

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rachusdwarfus · 5 years

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so thing is, 7 rings goes hard. it’s the most hip hop ariana has ever been in a song and once you appreciate it for what it is and stop trying to wish it into a pop song it truly slaps. which is why I feel so betrayed that its message is so so awful. I’ve never been a fan of how rich ariana is but at least in the past she’s kept that separate from her art. it’s so......... gross. to hear this superiority and bragging about the riches she (like any millionaire) doesn’t deserve. no one, in the world, absolutely no one should have that much money. as a regular ol’ prole it makes you feel so alienated by the artist, and the overt flaunting of wealth just reminded me of why I hate rich people. because the message of this song kindaaaa works as propaganda. her fans will love the song obviously, i do too, but many will champion her success and wealth—“yeah girl get that coin” etc—and it masks the real issue because sentiments like this song successfully shy away from the fact that as regular people we shouldn’t be cheering on her spending habits from the sidelines, we should be questioning why there’s such a gap in income between her and the average person (and no, don’t come at me with the “sHe wOrKeD hArD aNd eArNeD iT uR jUsT jeALoUs”, what we’re questioning here is why entertainers are so vastly overpaid). what gives her the right to be paid several million for a TV appearance, when doctors and nurses who arguably work just as hard or harder, get paid a pittance? it’s aaaalmost as though people don’t actually get paid according to how hard they work and and it’s more about the exploitation of labour. basically. just remember when you see these decadent and luxury millionaire lifestyles, try to see them with unbiased eyes and look past the ideology because behind it you’ll find a very justified outrage at what the ruling class are able to do whilst the rest of the world is burning because of them. remember that it’s in the interests of rich people to have you on board with the idea that rich people SHOULD be rich—that money is a privilege only a few receive. that way, there is no dissent. it goes without saying, I’m still going to listen to and enjoy the song, and you can too. I guess it works in my favour though that it sounds like she’s singing in simlish so I don’t have to pay too much attention to the lyrics.

#ariana grande #7 rings #seven rings #discourse #capitalism #bourgeoisie #ruling class

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kingofnxwyxrk · 4 years

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introducing: katherine ‘kat’ plumber

⌞ʾ⁎ ⊰ maia mitchell, female, she/her ⊱ i think i just saw KATHERINE ‘KAT’ PLUMBER walk across trafalgar square, singing to SOULMATE ( LIZZO ). you know, the TWENTY-FOUR year old JOURNALIST? people claim that they are just like KATHERINE PULITZER from NEWSIES . it must be because they are AMBITIOUS and PRIVILEGED as well… though i could be wrong. all i know for sure is that they live at EMERALD apartment.⌝

i noticed some other peeps had introductions of sorts, and i needed a place to gather my general headcanons / history, so here it is. i may or may not update this as time goes on. whoops?

daughter of a higher up in a huge media company in the united states. she doesn’t talk about it, but her father definitely got her the job she has in london. however, no one really puts two-and-two together, except for some of her bosses. she’s made it very clear that her work speaks for itself, and her connections only got her in the door.

speaking of her parents, she moved to get away from their image. her mother was a pageant queen and wanted the same for kat. she even did some youth pageants as a kid, but if you expect to see pictures, kat’s has tried to destroy them all. when she didn’t want to be some pageant girl, her mother than suggested she just be an influencer. just travel and show off her parents wealth. the mere idea makes kat sick. if she’s gonna make a name of herself, it’s not going to be posting pics of food on insta or making travel vlogs on youtube...

safe to say, kat doesn’t really talk to or about her parents all that much. at least, not the specifics.

she obviously doesn’t have a lot of money problems, but she tries not to flaunt that fact best she can. she stays away from anything too flashy. but... it does take all her willpower not to offer financial help to some of her closer friends...

she works for the arts and lifestyle section of her news company. this usually means she mostly covers local events in the community, sometimes the occasional piece of celebrity news, and the random pop culture article. ( do not ask her assignments that involve online memes and trends. cause she will scream. ) her work is usually just on the website, but it occasionally gets into the physical paper...

she’s really a sucker for learning. she believes you never stop learning, both through experiences and book knowledge. you can catch her binge-watching random documentries ( you won’t believe how much she loves fyre fest and the new mcmillions hbo series ) or reading the most random biographies. it’s also never a surprise when she does random internet deep dives into the most obscure topics...

possible connections:

kat literally makes the most random connections, either through events or just by being social in general. you never know when you’re gonna need a connection to get in somewhere for a story... this tend to be fairly shallow relationships. almost like acquaintances.

coworkers. she works for a news / media company. so... i don’t know what else to say. they may or may not know of her mogul of a parent. otherwise, they prob overhear kat complaining. a lot.

friends. maybe they met while she was working on a story. maybe they met at some volunteering event for some human rights org. who knows?

L I N K S

general ✦ threads ✦ muse page ✦ connections ✦ tag navigation

#❝ WHO’DA THUNK? I’M THE KING OF NEW YORK! ❞ ✘ 𝐊𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 #about ― 𝙠𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙡𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧 #introduction ― 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡 #queued ― 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡

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ofaphrvdite · 5 years

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silence ! raise the royal standard, for the duke of huéscar, ISANDRO DE TRASTÀMARA, has arrived. being 26 years old, he is sixth in line to the throne. many around the court call him the icarian, by virtue of him being suave and dynamic, while also being covetous and egotistical. — played by sean teale.

- THE BASICS.

full name: isandro alonso de trastàmara name meaning: isandro ‘liberator’, alonso ‘noble and ready’ known in history as: the usurper king, the king who avenged aurelia: the little rose, light of the east date of birth: june 3rd, 1992/1639 age: twenty six star sign: gemini profession: junior investment banker (modern verse) / duke of huéscar, heir apparent to the dukedom of alba, grandee of spain (royal verse) loyalty: spain, house trastàmara, the entente, eventually france and house du bourbon through marriage alignment: chaotic neutral mbti: esfj spoken languages: english, spanish, advanced french, advanced mandarin, intermediate german (modern verse) / spanish, english, advanced french, advanced portuguese, advanced latin, intermediate german, basic italian (royal verse) mother’s name: eleanor de trastàmara nee. mendoza (deceased in both verses), fifty two. father’s name: alonso de trastàmara, sixty siblings, if any: half brother, pedro moctezuma, thirty. half sister, elena de trastàmara, twenty-nine. height: 6’1” hair colour: black eye colour: brown

- BACKSTORY / MODERN VERSE.

there was little hope for isandro trastàmara developing any sense of ambition, as from his infancy he was taught nothing but how powerful his family was. ever since he was a baby, he had been raised by a hoard of the world’s best nannies - his own mother barely getting a look in. coming from a long line of incredibly successful bankers, and spanish nobility as his father loved to boast of, he was always provided with the very best that money could buy. he had everything he could ever want, resulting in a spoiled child who would grow into an entitled young man. and yet at every turn he was denied the only thing he craved - love. his father was always off on business trips, or with his latest flavour of the week, and his siblings were children all from different women, leaving the youngest of the brood alone in a home too large for a boy. in the turbulence of his childhood, there had been one sole grounding force, and that had been his mother. a woman who selflessly tried to devote as much time to her son as she possible could whilst her marriage self-destructed on the inside. there was no love between alonso and eleanor, only convenience. alonso had something pretty for his arm to make his ex wife seethe, and eleanor was able to stay in the country with her son.

it was aged ten when isandro’s only chance of forming any real familial bonds disappeared. and thus any hope that he might be saved from the trappings of his father’s legacy. on a bright sunny afternoon both mother and son were on their way back from izzy’s rugby practice and stopped for ice cream as they did every sunday. had he not insisted on handing the money to the ice cream man himself, perhaps his mother would not have chased the change he had dropped with clumsy hands into the street. maybe then she could have avoided the motorcycle that had swerved round the corner and sent his mother flying into the nearest windscreen. the memories of that day are buried deep, trauma locked away, but isandro can still remembers the screams of horrified onlookers, the screeching sound as the motorcyclist had sped away and the feeling of panic like a vice around his heart. he remembers the funeral though. how so few of her family had been able to attend, and most there had been men in suits from his father’s work that had barely known her more than her feigned smile. men who had patted him on the back and offered empty condolences to a child in a suit too big for him that only wanted a moment alone with his mother to say goodbye.

following his mothers death, isandro’s father sent him away to boarding school to keep him out from underneath his feet - adding to isandro’s already growing belief that it was his fate to be abandoned. within a few short years he moved on to eton after a hefty donation from alonso to study alongside the country’s future leaders. each year he would return home less and less, and the older he got, the more debauched his behavior grew. summers were spent abroad skiing in the alps, private yachts in cannes and villas in santorini. his exploits made front page news in the tabloids at home due to his high profile inner circle. among his friends were distant claimants to the british throne, sons of politicians, daughters of millionaires - all children who knew the numbness of an abandoned childhood that had been thrown together because they shared the same postcode.

oxford did little to settle his restless spirit despite all the threats from his father that he would be cut off. he had laughed in the man’s face. how could he ask for his lifestyle to be put aside, when it had been alonso who had flaunted the perks of it in his face for his entire life? his father had been no model citizen, certainly not a good husband nor parent, isandro could do nothing but mimic all he had ever known. throughout school he had always been told that he could do so much better - if only he applied himself. what was the point, he had asked, in trying when everything would always be handed to him anyway? complacency was the death of ambition afterall, and isandro was in no rush to leave behind the tornado that was his life. he would only be proven right when his acceptance letter for oxford had come in the post despite possessing none of the grades he needed. nepotism and a healthy donation to the great oxford library was all he’d really needed.

after graduation he had wandered europe for a year, as was the rite of passage for every child of the british upper class seeking to patronise all those lesser than them when they returned with tales of natives who lived such utterly simple lives. how else would they boast of how good a person they were if they hadn’t helped paint a school somewhere and then posted it all over the gram? he had put off his return for as long as possible, knowing a desk had already been reserved for him for the next forty years of his life. something he wasn’t eager to begin.

eventually his fathers patience could be pushed no further and he had begrudgingly returned to the uk and his new ( and so very exciting ) position as a junior investment banker in his father’s branch where he has remained ever since. the man is still as restless as ever, out every weekend and blowing his salary on ridiculous purchases. he hardly ever speaks to his family unless he utterly has to, most of their interactions now taking place at events that require a strong family presence. they all want their share of inheritance when dear old dad dies afterall. the only difference now is that he’s beginning to realise how meaningless his life really is, getting to an age where he’s beginning to wonder if he’s really just wasting the time he’s been given. ever since he was a child he’s only ever wanted to feel wanted, and that is perhaps the only thing in the world he can’t have.

- BACKSTORY / ROYAL VERSE.

it speaks volumes to his character that isandro de trastàmara was born third and youngest to his father, and yet it was he who would inherit the grandest title in spain below actual royalty. he had done little to earn the privileges in his life, and would grow to be a selfish and egocentric man - so expectant for good things as he had been bestowed them with no effort since birth. his eldest brother was born a bastard to his father’s mistress, and although he favoured pedro ( always so clever, so sensible, so very boring ), he was a brother to the crown. a prince in his own right. he would not deface the family name by legitimising him, and setting a dangerous precedent for someone so close to the throne. his first wife only bore him disappointment with a daughter and died in childbirth - leaving him still without a legitimate heir and now wifeless.

in his years abroad he met a young woman from a minor venezuelan noble family, awarded titles by the crown for their loyalties. she had been young and naive when brought to court for the king’s blessing, something he had begrudgingly granted, but soon discovered she was unwanted by spain. she was not of their country, not one of them, and yet it was the son she birthed that would seize so much power, who would be a cousin to the future rulers of spain. her life was a miserable one, none of the other highborn ladies would dare invite her into their society, leaving her lonely and isolated from her family. it was her son isandro who became her guiding light.

eleanor did her best to instill kindness and a decent moral compass in her son, knowing her husband would be attempting to warp him as best he could to bend to his will as she had. perhaps she may have succeeded and the future duke of alba would have been ruled by a good heart rather than bitterness and ruthless ambition. alas it was not meant to be, and her departure would serve only to darken him for many years before she was to be his guide in return.

isandro was only four years old when his mother was found murdered in the streets. her guards had abandoned her in favour of their lives and a small mob had claimed her life. though there were whispers it had been organised by someone higher up to look like an accident. he had been too young to understand why then, but the older he grew the more the need for vengeance had taken root in his heart. the king, his uncle, had done little to seek justice for his mother. and his father had not sought for it either. it had been an inconvenience at best but she was of no great loss to them when all was said and done.

and so isandro had grown up surrounded by nannies and tutors, no family to care for him. his elder brother too envious of missing out on a title he felt he deserved more, and his sister ambivalent towards her half brother, too caught up in the problems of her own life. his resentment grew against his cousins and the crown, festering over the years into something impossible to contain. when his cousin had succeeded the throne and began her reign of terror he had been more intent than ever that this must end. they had shared the same goal, and wished for spain to be as glorious as it always had been - but there was vast difference in their methods. he watched as his cousin’s bride charlotte was treated as a hostage for the entirety of her marriage, and then her pregnancy. as underhand deals left the foundations of greece unstable. murdering loved ones just to shake other rulers. and all under the guise of peace negotiations. so many innocent trampled that even he found no satisfaction in it, no matter how much it furthered spain’s plans.

he was by far not a good man. he had lied and cheated, feigned injury to escape from a war whilst men died for their country. had left a string of broken hearts behind him, leading women on before leaving them ruined. his behaviour was nothing short of selfish and reckless, and his father greatly disapproved. how could he trust his title to a son he didn’t believe had the responsibility to possess it? but alonso had always known how to bend others to his will, and isandro was no difference. threatening to cut his son off, he promised he would not see an ounce of his inheritance until he married a respectable bride. he had hoped this might settle the restless soul brewing in his son, and distract him from ideas of revenge he knew lay in wait.

unfortunately for alonso ( a blessing to isandro ) he won the hand of princess marguerite of france. a grand match to be sure, but two kindred spirits when it came to settling down. their’s was a betrothal of convenience for them both. isandro had no issues spoiling her as she deserved to be, and in turn he would get his inheritance. if anything, she fed into his ambition to take the crown from his cousins, to make spain what he thought it should be, and to give his future wife the throne she deserved. he had no wish to tame her, he much preferred a challenge, a partner that would push him. and she took no issue with his grey morality and less than sparkling record.

he is not at versailles to help bring about peace for europe. he doesn’t care if the continent tears itself in two, for he knows that spain will withstand it all. though he plays the part of dutiful noble, he is eager to secure support for his rapidly increasing coup. though he pretends it’s for selfish means, for revenge for his mother, there is an element of redemption to his cause. for so long he had sat idly by while innocents suffered at the hand of his queen, his family, and it had blackened his heart. perhaps he is not smart enough to wear the crown, and his morality is too confused to ever be a just ruler - but he is confident enough that his rule would be a kinder one than the tyranny currently subjected to them.

#! * INTRODUCTION / isandro.#! * INTRODUCTIONS.#izzy's intro is the equivalent of a spiderman origin story #in that #izzy's mum is the uncle ben that i must kill every single time

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oxfordeliterp · 7 years

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❝ He’s the afternoon in his quiet sublime not quite the sunrise, but not quite when it sets he is somewhere in between him and him, both of which bore his name at one point. at some point.❞

Amir Jain | twenty-four (III) | The Riot Club | Sidharth Malhotra | open

It's relatively easy to get lost in his eyes, the darkest possible pair of irises, but the black holes are soothing and gentle and the light in them shines more strongly through the contrast. Amir has always been a soft child, who wrote poetry on his mother's day and left the garden bare by giving his grandmother a rose every day. Yet, it is a wonder how he could keep his kindness and grow into a gentleman when surrounded by life's finest and temptation at every step. It is just that everything glittery had no value to him and no matter what car he was driving through campus, he would still get out of the car and pick up a dandelion from the sideway. For that, he left to university with the minimum possible trust fund and even took a job as a barista in his first year, although it didn't work out as well as in theory and he had to draw the responsible kid line there. He doesn't mean to be spoiled, but he is, even more than most of these other people acting like they own the world and flaunting their possessions with frivolity. The spoon he has been fed with was of gold, not silver, and no matter how much he likes to think of himself as simple and spiritual as possible and where he parks his car, he is used to a certain lifestyle and doesn't know sorrow. He could say all he wants that he undressed his expensive clothing and now wears a decent watch on his wrist, but the privilege soaked in him all the way to the bone. Perhaps a bit too malleable, too easy to bent and influence, and too serious at times, Amir isn't particularly fond of the things the Riot Club stands for, but he couldn't refuse their offer, wanting not only to be nice and make friends rather than enemies rejecting them, but also to belong. And what better way to be part of the university's community than by joining its top circle? His father takes great pride in his son and he encourages his initiative to be a tenth of Oxford's Elite, although he doesn’t understand what the Riot Club truly means. If he did, he would have made Amir withdraw, disappointed that his son — the only child he is giving everything for, whose shoulders were already burdened with the pressure that one day, everything the Jain family ruled and owned would fall on him — shows such rebellious behavior. That describes three fourths of the young man’s life, for he has always been locked in a bubble of duties and expectations that he couldn’t escape and learned to love, having no alternative, until he became something reserved and worn-out. Trying to please everybody and be the best possible version of himself is exhausting and he feels like collapsing to the floor and exploding every day, but it doesn't stop the strict routine. He knows that, if anybody at all can find joggle with everything in their life and come out of it successful, it is him and he has enough ambition to drag himself through the mud and pick himself up gracefully afterwards when he has succeeded. If there is one thing he isn't taking lightheartedly, that is business. He has a mind for it — analytical and strategic despite all the sugars and benignity — and once he hears the words, he can turn from the soft boy next door into an entrepreneur, because he was born into it and his father made sure not to raise a fool. Amir takes the family legacy seriously — as he does with most of the expectations set up for him — having it in his blood to enjoy it, dutiful and down-to-earth. It brings out the competitiveness in him, almost waking up a spark of excitement and ruthlessness in his eyes that the otherwise warm appearance of them would deny in a heartbeat. Despite being good at heart and genuine, seeding no shadow of conflict or frustration if he can help it, Amir has a secret boiling inside his veins, behind closed curtains. It all started last year, after getting remarked for his business passion and the fire in his eyes talking about strategies and approaches. He easily managed to get to the top of the class and lift the eyes of the young, just assigned in her function Ms. Abrams towards him, impressing the professor, but the extents of the impression he has left on her went even further than he had expected. In time, from the teacher's favorite, hanging out even after class to engage in endless conversations and even debates where their opinions didn't meet, Amir grew familiar with the woman and one thing led to another, ending up with their lips meeting. Ever since, it has been all about hotel cards and secondary phones for grades he already deserves and a more mature kind of company. The young man is aware of how easy their daliance can come tumbling down, dragging them with it in ruins, but for once, he has something exciting to live for and although he can't explain the source of his smile to anybody, living on the edge seems to be more interesting than expected to him.

Elizabeth Pemberly Amir only briefly encountered with Elizabeth, but it was enough to leave him with a bitter taste in his mouth the day he heard about her death. Since she had a way of crawling under one’s skin and make most love her in an instant, as if it were magic, the man was no exception to it. He wasn’t in love with Elizabeth — nor could he have been, especially since they barely knew each other — but everybody was a little in love with her, in the end, and he felt like she was too innocent and too childish to take care of herself, and felt instinctively responsible for her well-being. After having taken her under his wing, even for a short amount of time, it is only natural that her death unsettled him. He has made it his life purpose to find out who gave her — such a fragile, defenseless little bird — the drugs that supposedly have ended her life and make them pay. Aria Bellefonte To Aria, Amir is incredibly boring the way he is now. They officially met when she was in a vulnerable place with herself, and he acted like the perfect gentleman that he is, comforted her without crossing any lines and it should have been enough for the girl to be swept off her feet, even if it was unintentional. Yet, Aria found him nothing but a younger, better looking reminder of her grandfather and she decided to put her mind into corrupting him, thinking that he could use her help to loosen up and live a little before he went old physically too. Amir doesn’t mind her perception of him and passively allows her to drag him with her in clubs from time to time, but knows that he won’t change for the worse. What neither knows is that more than a coincidence ties them together and that they have more in common than initially thought. Jacob de Terreros They are roommates, despite Amir affording otherwise, because he is trying to approach a modest lifestyle. Howsoever, they couldn't get along less well, no matter how much both tried to make a connection and turn living together into something pleasant and cordial. It is embarrassing that they can't manage to find a common ground to start on, in spite of sharing the place they live in, but, if anybody at all asks about their dynamic, instantly assuming that they would be the best of friends just because one acts like a prince and the other is literally one, they are answered with the same lie that they are. Pretending a friendship is beneath both of them and an unnecessary lie, but as soon as they took down that route, they couldn't turn back and admit they don't know anything about each other past the color of their toothbrushes. Dexter Carraway Although they have been invited to join the Riot Club at about the same time, they didn't have much of a friendship back in the days, that changing drastically after Dexter's accident, that caused the other man to perceive him as a charity case — his ultimate weakness. Ever since, Amir has been trying to befriend him, because he felt bad about his condition and wanted to help as much as possible, drawn to the tragedy and wanting to flaunt his compassion, although not realizing. Dexter, of course, didn't fight back, always in need for friends and reaching the impressive number of two once Amir decided to get to know him better. Of course that the computer nerd has nothing of the royal grace that is the main vibe Amir gives people, but, regardless, the two get along and share opinions on most things, with few exceptions that the latter chooses to overlook.

#university rp #bio rp #lsbio #literate rp #literate roleplay #amir jain #amir jain bio #a #o #or #r

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chasingeast · 4 years

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Day 53- 7:37 P.M., Tuesday, February 11, 2020

Now that it’s been over 50 days of this new process, hopefully some new habits are beginning to form to support better things.

I’ve been journaling more often which is a plus. I’ve always loved to journal to get my thoughts out. I just always struggled with choosing the correct medium that would work for me. Traditionally, I would write in a notebook and my handwriting would be a hit or miss. I would get tired after a while. It would take me ages to get out what I needed to write due to the fact that my hand would always tire after a short period of time. Typing is effortless. It doesn’t tire out my fingers. In fact, I could probably go on endlessly until my eyes tire from screen fatigue. I’m not sure if that’s what I’m feeling now or if I’m just generally really sleepy. I am sitting up rather sloppily against my dresser which is flushed against my bed. My eyes are getting droopy but I’m not sure if it’s because the end of the day is drawing near or I’m just feeling comfortable. My toes are definitely not agreeing with the rest of my body. Each little digit is icy cold and frozen. I’m trying to warm them up by simply tucking them under my legs even though it doesn’t seem to be working.

I am keeping track of how many days have passed since I first started my new resolutions. I am also keeping track of all the things I’ve done in the meantime to work on these resolutions. I do notice that I did spend a majority of these posts hoping and longing for someone. Even though I still feel that way, I won’t be able to improve myself if I don’t spend more time working on deeper topics if I’m always stuck at the surface.

These new found resolutions were established to help me get a better understanding of myself in order to make the necessary adjustments I need to continue moving forward. I know that I’ve come to a point in my life where I can no longer stay standing. I must move forward. My parents provide me with a comfortable home. I truly have no worries or concerns. I have no need to drown my sorrows in bills or payments to survive the week. It’s just not something I have to worry about. I also know that that’s a situation that will come to an end. Could I ride it out until the end? Certainly. I probably wouldn’t save any money from it anyway so it’s really just money better spent elsewhere. I’ve been putting in the time and effort to look into different rental units. The overall consensus is that nothing is cheap. Everything is expensive and I wonder how I’ll ever be able to afford anything. One of the biggest calculations I tried to consider was how much I could realistically save and how much I could spend freely. It’s not much. If I count my overall savings in terms of long-term planning then I could be in a good spot. I’m not saving all that much each year, however, between the amount I have put towards my two retirement funds, that equals 30% of my salary. I’ll at least have a minimum amount to begin with. On the other hand, the amount of money that I’d have remaining to use for other forms of savings would be very limited unless I decide to take on other jobs. I will probably need to do so in order to have money for the things I want without having a credit card statement that charges interest fees. I admit that I spend a great deal of money each month. I’m trying very hard to curb my spendings but it’s not easy. I just love to swipe my card. It’s this incredible form of power that is not accessible by any other logical means. I mean I have power at work- I’m responsible for all these little humans, but that’s different. I love to spend money. I just wonder if I’m able to stick within a budget.

I have a certain amount set aside for “savings”, “vacationing”, and other expenses. At the moment it’s a luxury to be able to plan like that. In the future, I don’t know that it’d be possible to plan for vacations unless I was cutting back my budget as is. At least, going back to the feeling of luxury, I have the ability to safely and leisurely test my boundaries. I wonder if I enjoyed more solitude and video games then I too would be able to cut back on my expenses in general. It’s probably best because that also means less plastic consumption and waste in general. I plan on trying to practice cutting back for as long as possible in order to see if I can truly maintain this time of lifestyle.

When I was younger I never knew what type of life I wanted. The only vision I had in the forefront was to survive college and to get a job once college spit me out into the “real world.” I never planned for a life after getting a job. It seemed to already be such a difficult task. I didn’t know if there was a life after that. Now that I am finally in a time and place where it’s appropriate to address these topics, as well as having the openness and readiness to learn about them, I have a clearer idea of what I hope to see. It’s not too far fetched from an idea that a thought process that I developed back in college. In college, I wanted to surround myself with the people that I care about. I wanted to spend my time with those I value and cherish the most. Post college I wanted adventure. I wanted to face every moment and experience every thrill to the last drop. I never wanted to sit still and was constantly on the move. I would not slow down for anyone or anything. Now, years later, I find that my wants and desires have fused together. I still want to spend time with those I cherish, but even more so I want a reason to work hard for something everyday. I want a reason to come home and be home. That doesn’t necessarily mean a person, though I would love to have someone that I’m working towards building a relationship with. I get attached easily. I love spending all my time, energy, and effort towards one incredible source. I would rather do that than to go back to sprinkling a piece of me everywhere for the affection to never truly be reciprocated. I love love. I love being loved. I love loving someone. I don’t think I’ve necessarily given up, I just don’t like the methods I have to use. I don’t have anything against online dating. I think it’s one of the more common ways to go about finding a partner in this day and age, especially considering the fact that I don’t exactly spend all my time out and about the town and bumping into people all that often. It would honestly be the only interaction I could get that would be purposeful. I just don’t want it to be like that. I know myself enough. I don’t flaunt myself well. I also don’t really have an interest in doing so. I’m fun loving, kind, and sweet but I have a thirst for adventure and thrills. I feed off of human interactions and physical presence. I need to know that I get these rushed butterfly feelings that last for more than a few seconds. It needs to infiltrate every crack and crevice. I want someone to make me blush. I want to be awestruck by someone. I want to laugh wholeheartedly and roll my eyes at the silliness of something. I just want more. I don’t know how to get more, but I promise that I will find it.

I was asked today why I’m not acting myself. What they meant by “acting myself” was why I wasn’t exploring the world or hiking every possible track out there. I’m not by any means trying to avoid nature. I just haven’t felt inclined to go. I still love it. I still look up photos. I still read articles about the outdoor conditions and check in with my favorite social media posts. I just don’t feel obligated to put myself out there. I’ve been directing my energy towards other things and I don’t necessarily see that as being a bad thing. It’s just different. I would really just love to get out and see everything around me. Though I may say that, even now I don’t go out and about. I haven’t gone outside to walk around other towns. I want to. I want to explore other places. I have actually been itching to get back on my bike. I’m considering fixing it this weekend so I can make use of it on the couple days off for President’s Day. I don’t know where I’ll bike. Maybe I’ll drive around and stop at a park to bike around. I haven’t come to a decision yet. I just want to be able to get out and about. I want to see what’s around me. I want to appreciate every little thing and everything I’m surrounded by. I am still very much myself. I just have other parts to me. I know I had gotten into a habit of labeling and categorizing myself. I want to be more than just “the girl that goes hiking.” I don’t need a label. I just want to be myself.

I want a simple life. Well, I would love to live a lavish lifestyle but I know that I’ll never be able to afford one. I could never afford much on my own. I would probably forever live paycheck to paycheck unless I find other means to improve upon. Even if I did end up having a very simple lifestyle, I wouldn’t mind. I know how to find ways to occupy my time. Taking pictures of different sights. Driving to find new locations. They’re all very important things to me. I think everything is very much doable. It’s just a matter of whether or not I’m open to it. I guess that’s also one of the big reasons why I’m pushing myself to truly plan for a life moving forward. I’ve lived such a privileged life free of responsibilities. That time will come to an end. It’s not a negative thing. It’s just a matter of reality and accepting it. Is it the most fulfilling at times? Probably not. But it’s a lifestyle. I just hope that I can provide myself with the type of life that I want. I’m just hoping at the very least I can have the furniture I want. Hahaha. I do think I’ll make it. I definitely think that I’ll survive. It’s just a matter of getting started. Maybe also study a few things to educate myself a little more as well. Don’t just drown myself in social media all the time. Do something a little more productive.

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gyrlversion · 5 years

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Plastic bags feel integral to modern life. But theyre a relatively new addition we could live without.

Plastic bags are so ubiquitous they’re almost invisible. We rely on them to carry everything from routine grocery purchases to one-off drugstore runs to food delivery and more. Unless you live somewhere where plastic bags are banned — like Hawaii — or taxed — such as in Washington D.C., where both paper and plastic bags incur a 5-cent fee to help raise funds for environmental cleanup — it’s easy to think of a flimsy plastic bag, destined for the landfill or, worse, the oceans, as an extension of our hands, a place to stuff whatever we must buy at any given moment without any pre-planning or precaution for the environment.

Our reliance on one-time-use plastic bags, however, is relatively new. We’d landed on the moon, the Beatles had recorded their last album and broken up, and Studio 54 was in full swing before plastic grocery bags were introduced in America, circa 1979. From there, it took three years for major grocery stores to catch on to the usefulness (and cheapness) of the invention. They weren’t totally ubiquitous until 1985, following a 1984 New York Times piece suggesting plastic bags were the chic urban alternative to paper bags — the bulky, ugly practical objects that had been invented over 100 years prior.

Plastic bags, though a worldwide phenomenon, feel quintessentially American.They allow stores a cheap, easy solution to keep more profits (paper bags cost, on average, five times more than plastic ones) and offer space for free advertising. The concept of marketing on a free, disposable vessel to carry your purchases, however, dates back to the 1870s, when Massachusetts designer Margaret Knight revolutionized disposable packaging, creating a machine to produce flat bags that would unfold to have rectangular bottoms — as still seen in sandwich bags and grocery bags today. A decade later, the bag was improved upon, mass-marketed and yes, used as a way for shops to advertise their logo and name on the exterior.

The concept of a one-time use bag is consumerism at its best (or, perhaps, its worst). We can shop for whatever we want, wherever we want and whenever we want without worrying about the logistics of the purchase, perhaps even boasting about where we spend our money based on the elite store’s branding. Especially in our e-commerce world, what’s the point of buying Gucci loafers on Fifth Avenue or a Louis Vuitton purse on Rodeo Drive if you don’t have a glossy disposable shopping bag to flaunt post-purchase?

Whether paper or plastic, Americans do seemingly feel responsible for properly disposing of the free items known to cause environmental harm. Making plastic bags involves heating oil or natural gas at extreme temperatures, creating a non-biodegradable substance, pollution and using roughly six percent of the world’s oil to create this harmful plastics.

Americans use roughly 100 billion plastic bags each year (that’s 300 bags annually per American, i.e. less than one bag a day, but that adds up quickly). Each of these bags takes an estimated 500-1,000 years to decompose in a landfill — if they make it to a landfill.

Of the trillions of plastic bags used worldwide each year, it’s impossible to know how many are disposed of properly, though roughly 1 percent are recycled, and an uncountable number become litter. A 2011 coastal cleanup campaign in Massachusetts led to volunteers collecting nearly 6,000 pounds of plastic bags. Disposable plastic bags like those are responsible for the death of marine wildlife, such as birds and turtles, which mistake plastic particles for food, and larger mammals, including whales and dolphins, which accidentally ingest the toxic plastic.

The negative side of lightweight plastic bags is not new information. Eager to mitigate pollution and a potential environmental downfall, Ireland became the first nation to institute a plastic bag tax, back in 2002, charging 22 euro cents at the time (which was then about 33 American cents) for consumers who wanted a plastic bag. Plastic bag usage dropped 95 percent.

Worldwide, bag taxes and full-on bans are gaining steam with environmentalists: 127 countries currently have some type of limitation on plastic bag distribution. Single-use plastic bags are still complimentary in most American states, though, and when more municipalities and states push for legislation to regulate plastics, controversy generally ensues. But the price we pay for using them is much higher than the minor lifestyle tweaks we can make to quit the toxic objects for good.

Some argue that tote bags, typically made from non-biodegradable materials or materials, like cotton, that require significant amounts of processing, are just as bad for the environment if not reused a significant number of times. And though this may be true, a tote bag user is hopefully more accountable for their tote, not tossing the bag on a street corner or watching it fly out of a city trash bin without chasing the flimsy plastic down the seat. While a plastic bag maybe has a few extra uses in it (dog poop, lunch), a tote bag shelf life can be interminable — especially if my stash of tote bags in is any indication. If a strap breaks, you can sew it. Stain? Toss it in the laundry. Nothing lasts forever, but a properly-cared-for reusable bag has a pretty long lifespan.

The privileged ethos of disposable consumerism, whether it manifests in unthinkingly grabbing a plastic bag or replacing an iPhone annually (though electronics account for about 70 percent of landfill waste; for what it’s worth, every Best Buy in America accepts used electronics for recycling) or leasing a car to drive the newest model every odd year, needs to shift as we accept human culpability for climate change and our massive carbon footprint. Plastic bags are far from necessarily ubiquitous and, knowing what we do now — as opposed to in 1984, when they became so‚ should encourage us to evolve beyond relying on the damaging disposables.

We all share one environment — one that has a grimmer and grimmer projection of sustaining itself as humans continue to trash it. A plastic bag blown down the street of small town in America can easily end up in the Atlantic or Pacific oceans, or across the globe in a whale’s belly, beaching the gigantic mammal, disrupting the aquatic systems as they’ve existed for thousands of years, interrupting our food chain, source of water, and yes, an entire way of life. One bag isn’t going to automatically cause all this, but the trillions still used worldwide have dire consequences for all 7.7 billion of us.

I’m not a climate scientist nor am I an environmental expert — I’m a millennial who loves modern conveniences and sometimes still grabs a plastic straw out of habit when I’m not thinking about the impact. I read a lot and I care a lot, and if all signs are pointing toward humans destroying the earth, with minute-yet-routine-actions like using plastic bags, maybe it’s finally time we think just long enough to stop using them.

Melissa Kravitz Hoeffner is a writer based in Brooklyn. Her work appears in Glamour, Bon Appetit, Travel & Leisure, Conde Nast Traveler, Mic and many more publications.

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almightygodismydependence-blog · 5 years

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The Transformation of a Fallen Man

By Tong Xin, Fujian Province

I was born in the countryside. I came from a line of honest farmers and on top of that our family was few in number, so we were often bullied. When I was 13 years old, there was a child beaten by someone from outside of our village. The villagers falsely accused my father of instigating it and they said they were going to search our house and confiscate our property, take away our pigs and beat my father. There was also a time when another villager took our fishing net and kept it as his own. When my father went to get it back, the villager actually hit my father, relying on his own power and influence. My father had to just eat humble pie as he knew that he had neither money nor power. My mother told my brothers and me that we must fight for ourselves in the future, and never live a life of oppression like this. Being young and detesting the injustice in society, I was determined that in the future I would stand out from the crowd and earn their respect, and never be oppressed. So I studied very hard, but I wasn’t smart enough and I couldn’t get into any universities, so I chose to seek good prospects in the army and joined easily by going through connections.

When I first joined the army, I scrambled to take on all the difficult and dirty work and to show my proactiveness to impress my leaders so that I could be promoted in the future. However, after a few years, I could not even get a position of squad leader no matter how hard I tried. I was also constantly made fun of and bullied by my comrades because of my shabby clothes and thriftiness, which just intensified my desire to stand out. Later, based on advice from my fellow villager, I learned that evaluations and promotion in the army did not depend on hard work, but rather gift-giving. Even though I found this kind of thing was disgusting, I had to take the only path to promotion. Therefore, I determined to take all my savings to give gifts to my leaders and make connections; after that I was finally able to enroll in the military academy. But when I returned to the army after graduation, I was assigned to cook in the canteen because I didn’t have enough money for gift-giving, and later I became a quartermaster, but in name only. After several years of army life, I understood such sayings as “Officials do not make things difficult for those who bear gifts,” and “You can’t accomplish anything without licking their boots.” If you want to keep a foothold, you have to try every means to make money and give gifts, otherwise you won’t achieve anything no matter how great your abilities are. In order to achieve my aspiration, I started to making money through underhanded means: I over quoted and exaggerated the quantity on purpose when buying food, getting some extra dirty money; seeing other quartermasters selling rice, I secretly sold a truck of rice from the army and made several thousand yuan, and so on. Though I had believed in Jesus since childhood and clearly knew that these things I was doing were crimes, I was also constantly worried about being found out and convicted someday, the desire to be promoted still drove me to do those things against my conscience. Once I had saved up some money, I started to flatter my leaders and give them gifts catering to their likes. Every time the leaders came to carry out inspections I would busy myself going to drink with them, sing, get in touch with prostitutes…. I did every possible thing to curry favor with them. Whenever the leaders needed some help, I was happy to offer my services. Whoever had a good relationship with the leaders, I would try to get close to him in order to get a positive recommendation. During those years, I rose quickly to the position of battalion commander by resorting to this kind of worldly philosophy. I finally stood out and I could return home gloriously! After that, every time I went back home, the villagers would crowd around me, flattering and complimenting me, which greatly satisfied my vanity. My ambitions and my desires grew then. As people say, “Officials are just looking out for number one, not the public,” “Use power when you have it, because after it’s gone, you can’t use it,” and “There’s no such thing as an official who’s not corrupt.” So, I started to enjoy the privileges of an official. I would get things for free wherever I went, and if someone sought help from me, I would ask them for gifts and I wouldn’t help them if the gifts were inadequate. I started to go after fancy food and clothing, and began to indulge in extravagance. Relying on the fact that I was like a “golden child” with important leaders such as the commander and political commissar, I even became so arrogant that I would bully people by flaunting my powerful connections, requesting gifts from my subordinates in the names of these leaders. This was how I degenerated from a simple Christian country boy into a greedy, slick, treacherous, and arrogant man.

Being corrupt and fallen, I even projected my own terrible nature onto others. I often suspected for no good reason that my beautiful wife who worked for a foreign company was having affairs; this led to more conflict between us and growing estrangement. In 2006, my wife was pushed to her limit and initiated divorce; this felt like a great disgrace to me, so I would not agree to it. Late at night I would often think about my life. I thought to myself: I have been determined to stand out since childhood and my wife and I are both successful in our careers. Conditions in our home are good in every way and other people envy us, so why am I living in such pain, and why has it gotten to the point that my wife wants to divorce me? Even our son is suffering along with us. Is my life the way I want it to be? What exactly am I living for? Just as I was feeling lost and confused, my wife accepted Almighty God’s salvation in the last days. Through frequent meetings and fellowship with sisters and brothers, she became more and more optimistic, stopped arguing with me, and never mentioned divorce again. Instead, she was busy preaching the gospel and fulfilling her duty. Later, driven by my wife and mother, I also started to believe in Almighty God.

Because of the life in the church, I understood that God is holy and righteous, and that He most hates the filth and corruption of humans. I thought of the filthy ways I developed in the army and that I could not possibly be saved by God if I didn’t change my old disposition, so I started to hungrily read God’s words, hoping that I could find a solution in them. One day, I read these words from God: “Born into such a filthy land, man has been severely blighted by society, he has been influenced by feudal ethics, and he has been taught at ‘institutes of higher learning.’ The backward thinking, corrupt morality, mean view on life, despicable philosophy, utterly worthless existence, and depraved lifestyle and customs—all of these things have severely intruded upon man’s heart, and severely undermined and attacked his conscience. As a result, man is ever more distant from God, and ever more opposed to Him” (“To Have an Unchanged Disposition Is to Be in Enmity to God” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). God’s words exposed the secrets in the bottom of my heart; I was badly shaken. Over those years of serving in the army, I had followed the unspoken rules of the world for the sake of standing out. I had done many things which burdened my conscience. I had become wealthy from ill-gotten gains and lived a dark and corrupted life—I constantly indulged myself in sin but felt no shame. Then, God’s words not only allowed me to distinguish good from evil, but also made me see clearly the origin of my fall and my corruption. It turned out that these scourges came from Satan. It was Satan that turned this country into a morass of evil and viciousness where powerless, honest people were oppressed and struggled to get by while the powerful, influential and tyrannical prospered. In this society was full of heresies and fallacies like “Everyone for himself and the devil take the hindmost,” “Officials do not make things difficult for those who bear gifts,” “You can’t accomplish anything without licking their boots,” “Officials are just looking out for number one, not the public,” “Use power when you have it, because after it’s gone, you can’t use it,” and so on. I was taken in by these terrible sayings, and because of the oppression around me I lost my way, abandoned human principles, sought high positions unscrupulously, and became entrenched in a mire of sin. I eventually became an evil person who sought nothing but wealth, abused power for personal gain, and embezzled public funds. From the judgment in God’s words, I saw the intense rage and holiness of God, and understood that offending His righteous disposition was not permitted. I regretted my evil actions and my heart was filled with fear. I felt that if it had not been for God saving me in time and pulling me from the evil mire, I would have been cursed and punished by God for what I had done. Thank God for letting me see light again, and understand human principles. From then on, I never again did those things that brought shame to God’s name.

As I understood more and more of the truth, I experienced more and deeper salvation from God. In 2009, I had served in the army for 20 years. According to national regulations, I was permitted to go out and look for work on my own. I determined to shun evil and do good, so I left the army and chose to be transferred to civilian work, and put my heart and soul into working for God. However, my leader tried to persuade me to stay and asked me to think it over thoroughly, and another older leader in a high position made me a promise: “You will be promoted to deputy regimental commander if you continue to work hard.” I hesitated a bit—this was the opportunity that I had longed for day and night! I couldn’t let go of the idea of that position, so I sought help from God and prayed, “Oh, God, being in a high position has always been my dream. Now I have that opportunity and I don’t know how to choose. May You enlighten and lead me!” The following words of God brought me enlightenment, “If you are of high station, of honorable reputation, possessed of abundant knowledge, the owner of plentiful assets, and supported by many people, yet these things do not prevent you from coming before God to accept His calling and His commission, to do what God asks of you, then all that you do shall be the most significant on earth and the most righteous of mankind. If you reject the call of God for the sake of status and your own goals, all that you do shall be cursed and even despised by God” (“God Presides Over the Fate of All Mankind” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). “People come to the earth and it is rare to encounter Me, and it is also rare to have the opportunity to seek and to gain the truth. Why would you not prize this beautiful time as the right path of pursuit in this life?” (“Words to the Young and Old” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). Every word of God struck my conscience, and I was awoken from my hesitation. I had the privilege of encountering the work on the earth of God incarnate and the precious opportunity to pursue the truth and work for God. What an exaltation and grace from God! What career in the world could be more meaningful than working for the Creator? Even if you were in the highest position and were the highest official, if you did not know God and had not made any changes in your disposition, you would eventually be punished by God. So many people in prestigious positions had fallen into disaster and died a premature death, and so many high-ranking officials had had an ignominious fall and a terrible end. As for me, I had fought and tried desperately to stand out as an official, resulting in me ruining myself to such an extent that I was tarnished and filthy, and lived the life of someone who was barely human. God had then led me back from the wrong path and clearly showed me the path for a human life. How could I still choose to take those risks and return to my old ways? The first half of my life had been subject to Satan’s affliction and trickery and brought me great pain. I could not be enslaved, exploited, and corrupted by Satan for the latter half. I had to change my way of living, follow God wholeheartedly, walk the path of pursuing the truth, and live a meaningful life. So I resolutely determined to find a job on my own and leave the army completely. However, because my corruption from Satan was so profound, its poisonous idea of standing out and being an important person had been deeply rooted in my heart and often hindered me from taking the right path of life.

After fulfilling my duty in the church for some time, I saw that some of the church leaders were quite young and one of them had been my friend, which made me feel uncomfortable. I thought: None of your positions in the earthly world were as high as mine, but your current positions in the church are higher than mine. If you are capable of being leaders, then I am even more so! So I worked hard in this pursuit; I got up at five every morning to read God’s words, and set goals for myself—listening to at least two hours every day of sermons on entering into life, learning three songs every week, and planning to learn all the songs of God’s word. I was even more proactive and hardworking at performing my duty. As long as it was something that I was capable of dealing with in the church, I would rush to do it regardless of how difficult or tiring it was. Meanwhile, I bragged my experience and skills in the army in front of my sisters and brothers, turned my nose up at the fellowship of the church leaders or subtly belittled how they approached issues or dealt with problems. So, I charged straight ahead, struggling to seek fame and status, hoping to get a position in the church as soon as possible. In 2011, I was finally selected to be a leader in the church as I had expected. I was very excited and I wanted to distinguish myself and accomplish a great many things in order to impress others. At that time, for various reasons, I had no choice but to resign and I recommended a sister as the leader. However, I had not reconciled myself to this in my heart. After some time, I found that the leader had some shortcomings in how she dealt with problems, and my ambition once again reared its head. I indirectly suggested to her that she take the blame and resign, which would give me the chance to be selected in the next election. However, the sisters and brothers who heard of this analyzed me, saying that I was too deceitful and ambitious, and that I always wanted to take control of the church, so they dismissed me from my post of group leader. I simply could not accept it. I was such a capable person; how could it be that I was not even fit to be a group leader! For months, I was very dissatisfied in my heart and I was not happy with my sisters and brothers, so I did not talk much in the meetings. My spirit was full of darkness and I could not find God. In the midst of this pain, I asked God to lead me out of the darkness. And one day, I read God’s words, “Today, in man’s experience, every single step of God’s work strikes back at his conceptions, and all lies beyond man’s intellect and outside his expectations. God provides everything that man needs, and in every respect this is at odds with his conceptions. … By striking back at your conceptions, He makes you accept the dealing of God; only in this way can you rid yourself of your corruption” (“Only Those Who Know God Can Bear Testimony to God” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). “If you do not obey now, in the end you will be cursed—will you be happy then? You do not pay attention to the way of life but only focus on your status and title; what is your life like? … You don’t focus on pursuing personal transformation and entering in; you always focus on those extravagant desires, and things that constrain your love for God and restrain you from getting close to Him. Can those things transform you? Can they bring you into the kingdom?” (“Why Aren’t You Willing to Be a Foil?” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). God’s words were like a two-edged sword cutting into my heart, making rebellious me feel ashamed and embarrassed. Not until then did I realize that all the things that had happened to me recently, while not what I wanted, did not mean that people were just giving me a hard time. Rather, they were the just judgment of me from God, and His timely salvation of me. God’s work this time was meant to change people’s old thoughts and perspectives, to save them from the influence of Satan, and for them to gain the truth and life from God to live a bright life. I did not take the correct path and seek to gain the truth as my life, but pursued status and fame, and I even played tricks and hatched schemes, no different than the pursuit of becoming an official and someone of importance. Wasn’t this against God’s work and His will to save mankind? How could I gain the truth and live a meaningful life if I continued to pursue these? If I had not turned back, wouldn’t it have ruined me and made me a target for punishment by God when He completes His work? In order to prevent me from taking the wrong path and correct my flawed ideas of pursuits, God pruned me and dealt with me “ruthlessly,” through those people and events around me, took away my status, and shattered my ambitions and desires, so that I could reflect on myself and turn back. I then understood the righteous and holy disposition of God, and that my intentions, motivations, and even every single thought and action were under His observation. God carried out the most genuine salvation of me at the same time that He demonstrated His majesty. After recognizing the grace of God’s salvation, I no longer allowed myself to get entangled in the loss of a position, and I had the will to pursue the truth. God loved me so much that He tried to save me, so I could not let Him down. I had to obey God’s arrangements, and no matter whether I was a leader or just a regular believer, I should pursue the truth and do my duty as well as possible.

Half a year later, the leader in my church arranged for me to continue my church life at another church. Its church leaders were being selected at that time. When I learned that I had believed in God longer than all the sisters and brothers there, I felt very happy and I thought: “Now comes my chance. I can finally show my abilities as a leader. After all, I have more life experience and I believed in God earlier than they did. I am the best person for the position.” As I was about to present myself well to them, one of the sisters from my previous church was transferred to join the election. I was afraid that she would reveal my previous scandal of jostling for position, which would be an embarrassment to me, so I had to give up my initial plan. I decided to try to get elected as a group leader, then work my way up step by step after that. I hadn’t imagined that I would not be elected as a group leader, but I would instead be arranged to deliver books of God’s words to sisters and brothers. I really hadn’t expected that I, a dignified battalion commander, would be running around doing little errands. I found this difficult to accept. However, after undergoing the judgment and chastisement of God, I understood that this was from the rule of God and His arrangements. God was dealing with my desire to pursue status, so I forsook myself and obeyed. However, before long the place where I attended meetings was spotted by the police, so the church arranged for me to meet with another two elderly sisters somewhere else. As for the leader of the church, she could not come very often to perform her watering duty for us as she was being persecuted by the Communist Party of China. At that time, I could not bear it any longer: “Aside from having me do petty work, I have to meet with those elders with poor caliber. How did I get to this situation?” The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. I even felt that life was not worth living. In pain, I earnestly prayed unto God and asked for His enlightenment. One day, I read God’s words, “What’s the most appropriate method of pursuit on today’s path? What kind of figure should you see yourself as in your pursuit? You should know how to handle everything that is befalling you now, be it trials or suffering, merciless chastisement or curses—you should give careful consideration to all of this” (“Aren’t Those Who Do Not Learn and Know Nothing but Beasts?” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). From God’s words, I understood that I was driven by my arrogant satanic nature, deviated from God’s will, and walked on the wrong path of pursuing fame and positions. As a result, I only regarded those duties with “official titles” as important and despised other duties, and even detested those sisters and brothers of low caliber in the sense that I felt my status was lowered by being with them. The status and fame had gone to my head. However, I did not know that in the house of God, all duties were equal, and my sisters and brothers as well as I were all creatures with equal status. Thinking of this, I felt greatly relieved. However, I knew that fame and status were my fatal weaknesses and I couldn’t just easily let go of them, so I prayed unto God to seek more truth to resolve this issue. Later, I heard a sermon, saying: “In your opinion, is it meaningful for people to hold positions and cherish them? You should see clearly status and fame and be indifferent to them. They are empty and meaningless. A high position does not guarantee blessings. If you don’t have a good disposition, a high position may bring you misfortune. If you do not pursue the truth, that position will be a source of great evil for you. Without the truth, you cannot see things clearly, and might easily be ruined by positions. … You cannot be a leader without pursuing the truth; it can only ruin you. If you pursue the truth, leadership can make you perfect” (“The Differentiations of and Solutions to the False Leaders, Antichrists and the Wicked” in Sermons and Fellowship on Entry Into Life VII). “People appear to be good when they don’t have power but as soon as they have it, they will show their true colors. How can power expose people? When someone is an ordinary person, they seem decent and appear to be dignified and upright. Once they hold some power, they become perverse” (“How People Should Cooperate With God’s Work of Perfecting Man” in Sermons and Fellowship on Entry Into Life III). These words suddenly opened my eyes and I saw the void and meaninglessness of pursuing status. Valuing status and failing to pursue the truth can only lead to people’s ruin. Take my experience in the army as an example—I hated those corrupt officials when I was a soldier. However, as my status continued to grow, I started to become perverse and in the end I became a truly corrupt official. Those who were in high positions seemed to be good and honest when they didn’t have high status. However, as soon as they held power, they started to behave tyrannically and commit countless crimes. These facts were enough to illustrate that after people had been corrupted by Satan, they would without exception be subject to its affliction and trickery; if they did not pursue the truth and have a change in disposition, they could only become perverse and do evil once they held power and status, be it in the earthly world or in God’s house, with an end result of being punished justly by God. Thinking of this, I felt both fear and gratitude. It turned out that my repeated frustrations were my salvation, done out of love for me! Because I struggled to ascend in the world of officialdom for many years, I had been sullied with the poisons of Satan. It could be said that I was a combination of arrogance, deceit, selfishness and greed. After believing in God, I valued status too much and did not really pursue the truth. As a result, even by then I had gained little of the truth, and I had little fear of God. If I had actually been in a high position, I would only have become ambitious and behaved tyrannically as I did in the army, and I would end up being punished for offending God’s disposition. Thanks be to God’s enlightenment, I could see clearly the essence and the outcome of pursuing fame and status, and more than that, I could see the importance of pursuing the truth.

After that I started to concentrate my efforts on God’s words. I deeply longed for God’s words to be my life and paid no attention to duties with “official titles,” and never belittled other duties. I felt that every duty had its meaning, that it was all ruled and preordained by God, and that my duty was the responsibility I should bear. When I longed for God’s words with all of my heart and tried to complete my duties, I not only understood many truths which I had not understood before, but also enjoyed God’s presence quite often. I received the enlightenment and leadership of the Holy Spirit, which made me feel grounded and unspeakably joyful. After a period of time, I found myself keeping a low profile when interacting with others, and I no longer boasted about my old positions in the army or used them to show off. No matter who pointed out my shortcomings, I would obey first and reflect on myself later. I could treat the sisters and brothers in the church with poor education and low caliber equally, and I no longer regarded myself as superior to them. Before I knew it my opinions on pursuit changed a lot, and I became indifferent to status and fame and was not so constrained and controlled by these. When I saw sisters and brothers who had believed in God for less time than me get elected as leaders of the church, I felt a little bit of jealousy. However, I was able to let it go through prayer. I felt embarrassed thinking of the fact that I used to struggle for fame and gain; I felt it was ugly and inhumane. Now, my wife and I fulfill our duties at home together. Though they are not significant, I feel very content and I experience enjoyment. My son now also believes in Almighty God, which makes our family a true Christian family where God’s words rule in our daily life. No matter who speaks in line with the truth, we will listen to that person. Even if there is revelation of corrupt dispositions, we can forbear and forgive each other, and know ourselves according to God’s words, which has made our family happier and happier. I strongly feel that it is Almighty God who has changed me and my wife, who has saved my marriage and family, and what’s more, has saved me from extreme corruption and transformed me from an arrogant, evil and filthy seeker of fame into a person who pursues light and justice, who has real life goals. When I read these words of God, all sorts of feelings well up in me: “From the creation of the world until now, all that God has done in His work is love, without any hatred for man. Even the chastisement and judgment you have seen are also love, a truer and more real love, a love that leads man to the right way of human life. … All the work He has done is for the purpose of leading people to the right way of human life, so that they can have the normal life of mankind, because man does not know how to lead a life. Without such leading, you would only be able to live an empty life, would only be able to live a worthless and meaningless life, and would not know at all how to be a normal person” (“The Inside Truth of the Conquering Work (4)” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). Yes, without God’s salvation, I would not have taken the right path in life; I would only have become more and more degenerate, and would have become filthy scum who would be cursed by God in the end. It is the just judgment of God that has saved me, and ruthless refinement that has changed me. This allows me to understand what is ugly and what is holy as well as God’s greatness, beauty and goodness, and Satan’s meanness and evilness. I will never follow Satan again, and will only pursue the truth wholeheartedly, rid myself of Satan’s corruption, and live out a real human likeness. Although I have experienced the suffering of many chastisements and refinements, I have gained the most precious way of life, allowing me to be reborn and enter a true path in life.

This year, I went back to my former workplace to take care of some procedural tasks. I saw that my previous colleagues and my previous leaders had all been promoted. When my previous colleagues saw me, they said, “If you had not left the army, you would have been promoted by now.” I remained unmoved, and thought: “Of what use is a high position? If you live without any goal, direction or meaning as a person but just churn in that mire of evil, isn’t it the most degrading kind of life? Aren’t you just Satan’s slaves, its toys? You will suffer God’s just punishment and retribution in the end! Though I do not have a high position, I never regret my choice, because I have truly experienced peace and ease in my heart, which is true happiness. Only being the creature you should be, obeying and worshiping God is a true human life, and only through this can you have a bright future!”

#Almighty God #the Holy Spirit #God's word #God's work #obey God #blessing #judgment

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