#sometimes I am just too trusting of straight men and I’ve been burned before by guys who I thought were just like. my chill platonic friends

[e77y]

Just had the CRAZIEST missed connections moment? This guy I befriended for like an hour at a choir event just sent a message to my poetry club gc (I haven’t seen him at any club meetings) asking about collaborating with a lyricist (which we had talked about), so I texted him to see if it was the same guy and IT WAS??? And he was like “dude I’ve been searching for you” 😭😭 SO WILD

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 6

Summary: Losing someone can make you realize what was already there and the Darkling is about to find that out the hard way.

Warnings: angst, violence, swearing, bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five  

=================================

Five days have passed and the Darkling had never stopped looking for his wife. His men never saw him rest, sleep was simply never on his agenda. He barely ate at all, merely giving time for the rest of them to gather their strength.

He was restless, constantly questioning how this could have happened. No matter how he looked at it, the Darkling felt guilt consuming him. Without his rage, he worried the guilt would have paralyzed him. Had he not went on a pointless hunt for something that’s likely a tale, she would have been right by his side, antagonizing him.

It’s been hundreds of years since he felt this way, as if his heartstrings are being pulled by someone other than himself. In this search for Y/N, he realized she is consuming. After all, she might have been right – a part of him may actually care for her. He cursed that part of himself over and over again as result.

They’ve tracked her toward Fjerdan borders. Every now and then, they would find bodies on the road, their throat cut or stabbed right through the heart. Sometimes, he found them alive still. He never refrained from calling on his shadows, trying to draw useful information to close in on their whereabouts.

Y/N never saw him use his shadows before. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d disapprove of the means he’s using to find her. After all, she called him a demon on their wedding night. She would never accept him as he is, he had no doubt about that.

Did she want to be found by him?

The first body they found, the Darkling smiled. He didn’t question it was her hands who have taken the man’s life. There was no concrete proof, but he was certain of it. Every body found felt like her own version of breadcrumbs.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled heavily. If she managed to set herself free so many times to leave what was now five dead men behind, he couldn’t help but worry for her safety. What was the price of each crumb she left?

It wasn’t just the exposure to snow he worried about – and he did worry as she got cold too quickly and he was the one to warm her up before. Who’d warm her up now?

The darkness of the forest gave him cause to worry too – she may have tried to hide it, but he knew she was afraid of the dark. He realized it when her breathing turned shallow and fast their first night together just as she extinguished the candlelight. The next night, he left his candle to burn long into the night.

Something stirred inside him, a beast has awakened. Despite the war his heart and mind waged, he wondered if he’s his own worst enemy. Maybe it was time to let someone in. For too long, he had been alone in the shadows of his past lives.

Why is he repeating the same mistakes?

How can he be afraid when he married a woman who never blinks in the face of danger?

His heart was ice and stone until she came and now the ice has started to melt. All he’s done is hurt and destroy, but he wanted out of the loneliness that clings to him.

She was right, as hard as it is to admit it. He’s a demon, a devil that walks the earth and he cares. Because of her he hopes he might love again and he can’t let anyone take that from him – hope is the only thing stronger than fear. And when a devil falls in love and discovers hope, it’s the most hauntingly beautiful sight. They should fear him as he will go to the depths of hell to protect her.

While his eyes may have been closed, his heart jumped as a bright flash forced him to open them again.

He was never given a chance to be soft. His hands had to be bloody, to have people fear him. Only when they feared him, they wouldn’t hurt him. Now was the time to show them just why they fear him.

“Where?” He growled out, looking to Ivan and Fedyor who were looking at the sky.

“East”, Fedyor replied hastily, ready to follow Kirigan who set off in said direction without a second thought. He didn’t order anyone to follow, but they did.

Ivan and Fedyor walked two steps behind their general, alert as the flash had awakened them from a deep slumber. They weren’t the only ones shaken, unsure what they’re walking into but none showed fear as their general lead them straight to the source. Their loyalty, their belief in general Kirigan runs deep.

Except for David. He was afraid. He didn’t want to be in that forest and he didn’t want to be in danger, but he trusted Kirigan. Besides, Y/N was nice and Genya seemed to like her. So he came along too.

Kirigan walked in strides, the snow didn’t slow him down. His hands formed fists, his face twisted in anger, but his heart pounded in his chest as he had no inkling what he might find. All he knew was that he had to get there, fast.

As if made of darkness itself, the Darkling emerged on what looked like a battlefield. The trees surrounded a small clearing covered in snow that melted under the spilled blood – still warm as it poured from the dead surrounding her.

She’s on her knees, two Fjerdans chaining her up as if she’s a wild animal.

“You think you’re scary, huh?” She spat at the Fjerdan’s feet – a crimson liquid, Darkling realized. She’s bleeding.  

“That’s adorable”, she chuckled maniacally as she held her fierce gaze on the Fjerdan stood before her. They pulled her left hand behind her back and her right hand in front as they tightened the chains that were secured over rope that laid just beneath.

Darkling’s blood boiled. It is fear that brings rage, that hot burning anger that seeks to harm. Once again, he was afraid, not of her but for her.

Four more Fjerdans came from behind the trees, all covered in blood. “Fucking bitch”, one of them kicked her in the ribs and he couldn’t take anymore. He could kill them easily for what they’ve done – he’s killed every one of them he ran into in the past five days without even blinking, regardless if they were involved in her disappearance or not.

“Mister, I’ve seen scary and you don’t have his handsome smile.”

Licking his lips, the Darkling nearly smiles at her remark. There’s no possible way she means anyone else but him. Looking at his Grisha, he found them nearly all in position. They would attack in a minute, swiftly and deadly.

Yet in a moment of carelessness, he missed the Fjerdans realization they’re being watched. Too quickly, more of them appeared. The pitiful human managed to land a few consecutive blows to Darkling’s face before drawing a dagger.

Angry, dark eyes showed the Fjerdan that the Darkling’s brain is in a different mode, that he has switched gears from empathy he had for his wife to cold emotional indifference. Never once has he directed this mode in Y/N’s direction, yet it emerged when he sensed a threat to her life, letting out a part of him that was full on protective.

Grunting, the Darkling’s eyes narrowed at the human who dared to sink the blade into his heart. Despite his immortality, he could still hurt. The pain of a stab wound felt just as it would if here as fragile as the human before him.

But he’s not human at all.

Connecting his hands, the Darkling lifts his head as he summons the darkness that spills from every corner of the forest. “Foolish”, he sneers, “Attacking me in the dark?” The Darkling smirked, walking past the petrified Fjerdan, allowing his shadows to administer a thousand cuts for his transgression.

As he walked toward the middle of the circle, his shadows followed, aiding his Grisha in taking the rest of the Fjerdans so quickly that Y/N gasped.

Looking around in shock, she found Kirigan kneeling beside her.

“You have a knife”, she coughed into her shoulder, “A knife in your chest.”

“I promised”, he gasped for breath as he pulled the knife from his chest. “That I would protect you and I intend to keep the damn promise.”

On the brink of tears, her lips quivered before she laughed. “I thought you’d let them kill me.” Better to laugh than cry, she thought.

Frowning, he shook his head. “That would be too easy”, he waved David over who stood at the tree line, wide eyed. “If anyone’s going to kill you, it should be me.”

Even with tears blurring her vision, she giggled at his stupid remark. She had tried so hard to free herself.

It wasn’t the first time she had been captured by enemies, she knew what to do. But there were so many of them. Each time she freed herself, they would descend upon her. She managed to run, twice, each time they dragged her back kicking and screaming.

Despite his words, Y/N didn’t believe Kirigan would come for her. She had to be her own hero and she tried. In the end, she used everything at her disposal – everything.

Feeling the chains drop, Y/N glances at David, “Thank you.” The ropes were cut as well, but she didn’t move. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if she could stand on her own and asking for help would wound her. Rubbing her bruised wrists, she reluctantly looked at Kirigan.

“Here”, Kirigan offered his hands. Truth be told, he wanted to carry her, but he knew her pride wouldn’t allow it.

Hissing, she forced herself up despite Kirigan’s offer. “I am perfectly capable of walking on my own.”

He’d have asked her again because she trembled when the wind blew. Her hair was matted with blood, her face red and not from blushing. He could see the damage they’ve done more clearly now as she bent to take a deep breath as if the simple act of breathing hurt her.

Staring at her, he nodded despite his better judgment. Her breathing was ragged, dragging her feet as she walked. She felt his eyes on her, it unnerved her. All she could do is hope her legs don’t give out, but it felt as if they would betray her any moment now.

“Go and make camp ahead”, he ordered his Grisha to speed up as he realized her stubbornness would kill her. Stepping before her, he wrapped an arm around her waist. There would be no asking her for permission this time, he’ll not allow her to deny his help. Hoisting her up in his arm, he held his breath as she cried out in pain.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

How could he not bring any healers? How could he have been so stupid?

Groaning, she sent him a stern glare yet found no anger in his. His eyes are like the ocean - they have the potential to destroy, yet when the waves reach the shore, they dissipate, leaving soft designs in the sand as a gentle reminder of its presence.

Leaning into his embrace, Y/N let out a gentle sigh of resignation. She’s been caught in the riptide and for once, she doesn’t want to fight it.

“I really thought I’d die”, she admits reluctantly.

Feeling him stiffen as he held her in his arms, Y/N frowned. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that, or anything at all. This isn’t what they do, they don’t bare their hearts open.

“And when I faced death”, she continued regardless. Tilting her head to look up at him, she let out a shuddered exhale. A shy smile adorned her lips as their eyes shared a gaze so tender, an outsider would believe them to be in love.

“I thought how silly it is that I don’t know your first name.”

Snorting, Kirigan raised his eyebrows, “Really?”

“Yes”, she breathes out.

Looking at her now, the Darkling couldn’t believe this is his wife. The woman who infuriates him so often seemed so small, so fragile in his arms. Her gaze held remains of the horrors she was cast into and yet he never saw her as earnest before.

“I married you and I don’t even know your name.”

Licking his lips, he stops. Truth be told, no one actually knows his name. His name was long forgotten, a piece of his soul he had left behind in the fold. He promised himself he’d never utter it while he lives. He had promised he would never be that man again.

Unfortunately for him, he seems to be breaking his promises lately.

He promised her he’d protect her and he failed, just as he promised himself he’d never care for her and yet he does.

“Aleksander”, he mutters, still unsure if it’s the right decision. He placed one of his greatest secrets in the hands of a woman who’d see his world burn. He gave her power she never should possess and yet he’s not afraid. No one could make him fear anything after the ordeal he was put through since she decided to tear down his defenses.  

Smiling softly, she closed her eyes. Resting her head on his shoulder she felt satisfied. It may be small, but finding out his name felt like a victory. She was born to play this game, it was her destiny. He is her destiny.

Waking up, she found herself wrapped in several blankets inside a tent. Grunting, she struggled to sit up on her own. It seemed to be dark still, but she had a blue light lantern lit inside. She may not know who left it there, but Y/N was thankful. Despite her fear of dark, she found it odd she did not fear Aleksander’s darkness at all.

When his shadows nearly encased her in the clearing, she didn’t fret or worry. She smiled.

As contradictory as it may seem, she wished he was with her now. Her entire body ached and still, she was more bothered by the empty spot beside her. Shaking her head, she bites her lower lip. Would it be so bad if she showed a sliver of vulnerability for a single night? Would making a small concession such as this truly take away her power?

Before she has a chance to change her mind, she’s already outside of her tent. The cold chilled her to the bone, biting every inch of exposed skin. Teeth chattering, she looked to the tent next to hers as it was the only one so close – seemingly intentional.

Trying to open it in the cold seemed impossible as her fingers shook violently. Feeling faint, she wondered why she couldn’t just stay in her own tent for the night. Surely it would have been a better idea than to admit she’s scared to be alone.

A warm liquid trickled down her lip and she nearly laughed at her own idiocy. The darkness and cold and her own injuries have all been fairly good reasons for her to just sleep and try to recover and she still tried to find her husband who showed so much disdain for her in the past.

Just as she was about to give up, a familiar head of hair peaked through.

Shivering, she wipes the liquid from under her nose with the back of her hand. Looking at it, she realizes it’s blood. There’s a slightly dazed look in her eyes, the blood loss suffered over the past days leaving its mark.

Looking up at Kirigan, her lips tremble and she sways slightly as her legs threaten to give out. “I didn’t know who else to go to”, she mumbles meekly before collapsing into Kirigan’s arms.

No…Aleksander’s arms.

Pulling her inside, he wrapped her in his arms as she shivered. Covering her with blankets didn’t seem to help either, but he had confidence it would soon enough.

She closed her eyes, clinging to him and selfishly, he smiled. It brought back memories of the night she climbed atop of him to warm up, he assumed. She didn’t know he was awake then, but she did now. She trusted him enough to seek warmth and as her shivers stopped slowly. That’s when the Darkling realized he would never deny her anything she asked of him.

“Fuck”, he whispers under his breath and her eyes open.

He looked at her in a haunted way, a shadow of a bruise marred his jaw and she reached up to touch it, her chest aching when he nuzzled into her palm. They have never been quite as tender with one another, never so intimate. It felt surprisingly nice.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” She asked, feeling so emotionally raw. Physical pain and lingering fear of impending death must have weakened her for a short while. Surely, she can allow herself a few moments of humanity?

He caught her wrist and pulled her hand down to press flat over his heart. “Here.”

Drawing a shuddered breath, her eyebrows knitted in worry. That’s where the knife was, she remembered with guilt. He could have died for her. Hating him requires too much energy; one she had little to spare. For the night, he can just be her husband and she will just be his wife. What harm can it do?

“Why did you come for me? Didn’t you say you wouldn’t fight for me?” Her confidence wavered as he sighed, brushing his fingers along her cheek. Not only did he come for her, but he murdered men for her.

Blinking slow, half in a daze as a low-grade fever began to grip her too, she had no more strength to deny how beautiful he is or how disarming his charm is. He may never love her, but she could…she could love him. If she ever fell for him, she knew she’d never be able to unlove him. She wouldn’t want to and that…that felt oddly comforting. For once, she was too tired to listen to her mind that preferred to set the world on fire rather than care for him.

As her eyes closed and her face relaxed, he stayed awake. He didn’t understand it, but he embraced the warm feeling spreading in his chest as she fell asleep.

“I’d burn this world for you.”

=============================

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon  @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06  @whatthefluffrichard​

PART 7

[iiraven]

Odyssey

Pairing: Poseidon!Armin x Reader

Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: slow-burn, minor character death, manipulation, stalking, possessiveness, Yandere behaviour, puppy play, piss play, body worship, throne sex, implied age-gap, oral(male receiving), hair pulling, collaring (without consent)

Word count: 9.8K

Synopsis: Armin’s quest for revenge leads him to you, daughter of a merchant and object of his infatuation.

Author’s note: thank you @bubbleteaimagines​ for hosting this collab and allowing me to join <3 Also, thank you @onyxoverride​ for teaching me how to write about pee!

Attack on Titan Masterlist

Present day:

If the river could speak, you wonder what it would say.

In the silence that surrounds the rushing of the water, you’re sure you would hear it. Sometimes, you’re sure you can hear it, but then you remember the dangers of trusting unfamiliar voices. Especially unfamiliar voices in a place like this.

No one goes near the river Shiganshina. And you forget the reasons why much too often.

It’s rocky, slippery, there’s no path to walk on, and the nymphs grow sharp teeth when men approach them, hissing and eyes glowing red. But that’s what makes it perfect for you.

Sasha first mentioned the river months ago, recalling the places on the island that her and her father avoided whenever they went hunting. You hadn’t paid much attention to it until days later, when Connie recounted with round eyes how Floch’s body was found beside the river Shiganshina, mouth full of water and eyes gouged out. You knew you needed to go there yourself.

A pearl necklace is what you stole. And under the guise of going to wash clothes at the well, you made your way south of your small island with only Sasha’s vague instructions and your intuition guiding you.

You could hear the ocean as you walked through the untouched woods, your heart hammering in your chest every time the waves crashed against the island’s cliffs. You weren’t allowed to see the ocean- you weren’t allowed to be around any large body of water, for that matter- but you still knew your island well enough to know that a step in the wrong place could lead you tumbling down the cliff.

You would die before you got to feel the water on your skin and that, you thought, would be the most tragic part.

As your feet began to sink into the muddy ground, you could smell the salty water, and a slight metallic scent behind it that only drew you in closer until you reached a clearing. It was small, crowded with foliage with only a few dead plants on the ground where you could only assume people had attempted to step foot.

And there was the river. It was small, its water emerging from underground before the tide pushed it to the edge of the island- to a waterfall. So loud that it could drown out any noise, any screams. You shivered. For a moment, you just stood back and watched. The water was was green, but so clear that you could still see the fish swimming beside the floating objects. Coins, silver, small statues, and whatever else hopefuls had tried to offer. You pulled out your own offering and whispered a short prayer before throwing the necklace in.

It could have been your imagination, but the water calmed. It was quieter. And, like that, you felt as if the river had opened up its arms to you. Strong arms that you have to be cautious not to spend too long within lest you get trapped.

Thankfully, you’ve learned to read the signs. You know when the river wants you to leave, when it wants you to keep your distance, when it wants to keep you close, and even when it wants you to bathe. Those are the special moments. It’s rare the river is calm enough for you to dip your naked body into, but surrounded by the cool water, you feel like you could stay their forever.

If the river could speak now, however, you’re sure it would tell you to fuck off.

Either that or it would tell you to come back when you have something more to offer its god than a single golden bead from your grandmother’s necklace. Only three are left on the thin string, though you think you might keep the last one to honour her death. After that, you’ll have to go back to offering coins and whatever other trinkets that will keep the god of this river sedated long enough for you to dip your feet into the cool water, maybe take a sip, and then return home before your father realises where you’ve been, much less where you’ve been unchaperoned.

The latter is hardly your fault. Sasha and Connie are too scared to step foot in the Shiganshina forest, let alone the river itself. And you can’t trust anyone else to accompany you, especially the servants whose tongue could slip at the drop of a golden coin. Your father would never forgive you for spending time in the territory of the God of the Ocean or- as he liked to call Armin- the destroyer of seas. And thus, being left alone seems to be the only way.

Well, that’s unless Mr Arlert decides to join you.

The owner of the stable who appeared on the island out of nowhere is the last person anyone would expect to be brave enough to spend time at the river Shiganshina. He mostly keeps to himself, only ever seen tending to his horses or immersed in scrolls of literature and poetry. And yet, he’s here almost as often as you are, almost as vulnerable as you are.

Despite his solitary nature, Mr Arlert has been quick to make himself adored. Mothers swoon over his charm, scholars constantly indulge in his curiosity, and sailors are fascinated by his knowledge of the world and its oceans. He’s no warrior, and already in his late twenties, but he’s still without a doubt one of the most eligible bachelors on Paradis. And, yet, to any marriage proposal sent his way, he declines with a polite “A husband is not what I am fated to become”. Even Annie Leonhardt- whose father Mr Arlert would constantly visit- had her heart broken. But no one blames Mr Arlert, of course, who was there to comfort Annie, to make her realise that she just needs to be a better person, that’s all. It’s not his fault her heart broke, Mr Arlert reassured.

Thinking about it now, you’re amongst the handful of women who haven’t been offered to the tall blond. And with that comes a sigh of relief as you drag your fingers through the water.

It’s not like you dislike him- the opposite, actually- but being with Mr Arlert is like taking the hand of an invisible man in the dark and letting him guide you.

His words constantly have your thoughts spiralling in directions that they shouldn’t be. Thoughts about leaving the island, thoughts about going to the ocean, thoughts about becoming a priestess. Thoughts you aren’t allowed to have.

You fate is bound to the home you were born in, a thick rope tied to your ankle, only letting you go as far as this very river. And Mr Arlert sits beside that rope, a knife in his hand, blue eyes staring into your soul, waiting. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. But what you’re sure of is that to be taken away from the life you know of is an inconceivable fantasy. The unknown is a dangerous thing, after all.

The small island of Paradis may lie far away from the rest of the world, but their core values remain the same. A woman must grow up to either serve her father or her husband. Your fate has already been decided for you. And, frankly, if it means not having to share a bed with an old man who marries you for your dowry, you’re very happy with taking care of your father until the day that he’ll be put into the ground.

But then there’s always the third option. A woman who serves neither her father nor her husband will serve her god. 

You had never been given that option by your god-hating kin. Simply suggesting a future as priestess would earn you at least five lashes, so why… why can’t you stop thinking about it? Your instincts have you blame Mr Arlert, but you know that your fixation began before he arrived on the island; all he’s done is vocalise your thoughts.

As a gust of wind blows the leaves and the salt from the sea gently caresses your cheek, you wonder who your god would be. Do you resonate with Pieck’s beauty, or Zeke’s creativity? Maybe. But as you look into your reflection, you know that your god is no other than Armin, the god of the ocean. The fates must think this is hilarious, but you just want to scream.

“It’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your father worrying about you.”

You jump at the sudden voice, turning around at the familiar face, leaning against a tree with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Mr Arlert.”

His footsteps are so gentle, as are his apologies.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve come to invade your space, after all.”

“It’s not my space, it’s Armin’s. The god is only letting me stay here.”

He smiles a knowing smile, one that you would usually find patronising on any other man. But Armin is charming, too charming for you ever to think that of him. “I suppose you’re right.”

He comes to sit down beside you, taking his usual place at your right- the voice of reason. It’s quiet for a moment, before you remember.

“Lemnos,” you say.

The blond smiles. “I’m not named after a place.”

And you roll your eyes, as you’ve done every time he’s given you a useless hint. “That hardly narrows it down.”

“Well, I can’t make it too easy of a game.”

“You can’t make it impossible either!”

“It seems like I already have.” And you’re not sure if you want to wipe the smirk off his face or just stare at it.

“What about Tree?”

Arlert laughs. “No, but you have one guess left.”

“What?!” You sit up straight, eyes wide. Now you really want to wipe the smirk off his face.

“You have seven guesses, and in the eleven months we’ve known each other, you’ve used up six.” His explanation is calm and rational enough for you to almost convince yourself that the rule has been there from the start.

“Wait- wait. I never knew about this!”

“I thought everyone did. It’s traditional wager rules.” Mr Arlert’s tone is sorry, but you know he’s everything but. So, you cross your arms and pout, hoping that staring him down might at least give you the smallest chance of winning your wager.

He leans forward, mirthful and you feel a shiver go down your spine. “What is it, little puppy, sulking because you’re afraid you can’t win?”

You flush at the implication of your loss- “No- no not at all- no”- before registering his actual words are and only then can you feel the heat rise and you’re sure it’s doing you no service. “I know I can win!”

“I know you can too,” he assures you.

You frown. “Are you being sarcastic?”

It’s his turn to flush. “No, not at all! You can win- the water god favours you, after all.”

And although you shrug, his words stick. They always do.

Before you go home, you pass by Armin’s temple and place at the foot of his statue the remainder of your grandmother’s necklace.

A year ago:

Amrin knew how fickle the gods were and he thought that this knowledge made him impervious to those feelings. He watched how Eren jumped from woman to woman daily, how Reiner picked and chose his battles without a care, how every single fixation a deity would have never lasted more than a year. He thought of how stupid it was to spend a life of immortality indulging in such temporary pleasures. And he looked down on his kin for that very reason.

It was only after one argument too many that Armin finally let it slip. The god of the sea was usually quiet, offering soft smiles, casual conversation, and minimal conflict. That was his only rule: keeps quiet before the gods of the pantheon as he takes his anger out on the humans below. But that day, he forgot about his rule.

Maybe it was the years of silence that caused the Eathshaker’s outburst, or maybe it was just Eren’s bored expression as he talked about his mistresses in front of Mikasa. Armin couldn’t take it. Gathered at a marble table beside all the Olympians, he scowled and told them how stupid they all were.

“Don’t you realise? You’re all wasting your immortality by being so idiotic, so fickle! Everything you touch becomes a temporary pleasure, ruined by your inability to act like real gods.”

He should have stopped; he really should have stopped. But the crack in the glass bridge had been there for years, and now the shards of glass were dropping down into the sea. “You might as well be human!”

The room went silent. Eyes went wide, and mouths gaped, but the gods opted for silence. Every deity wanted to speak up, maybe even draw their swords, but they were more intelligent than Armin was in that moment, which was more unusual than one might think. He had never snapped so violently before. Armin may have been aggressive, but he knew his place. Knew when to be docile. Now, he felt like he could crumble Olympus itself with his rage and bury the Olympians with their dead parents.

The king of the gods, however, leaned forward. His emerald eyes were unmoving, devoid of emotion though his lips tilted into a monstrous grin.

“You’re just as fickle as the rest of us, brother,” was all Eren said.

When Armin lunged at him, knocking the fine glass off the table, it was Mikasa who pinned him down. Arms locked behind his back, all Armin could do was watch as mirth flooded Eren’s face, and the god of the sky laughed. The bastard laughed and laughed and licked the small wound on his hand from a shard of glass. It healed immediately. Even their pain was temporary.

And like he had been doing for the past millennia, Armin found solice in his only rule: if he couldn’t take out his rage on his brother, Armin would take out his frustration elsewhere.

His first instinct was to find a woman, but the thought of seeking out temporary pleasure, from a mistress no less, reminded him too much of Eren. So, he descended to earth, trident in one hand as the other gripped the reigns of his horse and they rode for three days and three nights. That’s all it took for the god of the sea to find what he was looking for- someone deserving of his hatred.

There are many humans like the merchant. But most of their hatred is silent. And when it’s not, blasphemy often falls upon deaf ears. The merchant just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when his drunk rambles led him up on the deck screaming out Armin’s name like it was venom in his throat, until he could scream no more. He was drunk, but the merchant’s hatred for the god of the sea did not cease when he was sober.

And when Armin heard his name, the god wasted no time calling forth a storm to sink the merchant’s ship. He took care to ensure that the arrogant man watched each and every one of his men be swallowed whole, their bodies only resurfacing lifeless, before the storm calmed.

It took five days for the merchant to swim back to his island.

He never returned to the sea.

As the weeks passed, he relocated his home to help him stay away from any body of water and made sure that his family followed suit.

But Armin followed, and the merchant’s father died weeks later with saltwater water found in his lungs.  

Unfortunately, that was not enough to sedate the god of the sea’s need for vengeance. Fortunately, it was not enough to sedate the merchant’s hatred either. The hubris didn’t leave him. Instead, it just grew and grew and grew until the merchant considered himself more of a god than Armin would ever be.

“Oh, oh.” Armin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the man urinate before his temple. “This is perfect, so perfect.”

Armin was going to show his uncaring brother how different he was from the rest of the miserable Olympians. As he stood above the island of Paradis, golden hair blowing in the ocean wind, the god vowed to begin his Odyssey. An eternal Odyssey. A journey that would last longer than the ten fleeting years he had with the Greek hero- a journey that would last longer than the universe itself.

And he knew exactly where to begin. A man’s most valuable possession: his child.

It was only after your grandfather’s death that Armin noticed you. When he first began watching the merchant’s household, under the guise of either a guest or a bird, he had been surprised to learn that the blasphemous man had no wife, nor children. Armin only realised his mistake one night, when you came to lay a blanket on the drunk man’s barely conscious body. The merchant had pulled you towards him, muttering apologies and you had wrinkled your nose before offering him a soft smile. “It’s okay, papa”.

A daughter sheltered from the world, it seemed.

The god had initially thought you were one of the servants. There were only two in the house, and your tasks were all similar. But as Armin began to watch you closer, he saw how you did have a life outside your home with friends, interests, men- a life your father was blissfully unaware of.

The merchant hardly left home- playing the part of the sick man- and you took care of him- playing the part of your dead mother- in a happy sort of agreement.

You didn’t speak about it to your friends, but you detested your doting role. Armin could tell. The way you wrinkled your nose every time your father walked through the door, the eye-roll when you were given a load of laundry. The god couldn’t help by laugh at how pathetic the merchant was that not even his only daughter- his lifeline- cared for him. The merchant didn’t know, of course. Your fake smiles and gentle hands were enough to deceive him, keep him sane. But Armin was going to break that pattern.

The merchant didn’t deserve the care of a woman. He didn’t deserve anything. So, Armin was going to take you away from him.

His initial plan was to kill you. Simple, efficient, quick. And then he thought of dumping your body somewhere far so that the search for you would break your father’s spirit even more. He hesitated, though, he wasn’t sure why, but he did. And then, you changed your routine.

After meeting up with the two individuals you called your friends at the Sunday market- instead of going back home- you carried on walking. Through the houses on the outskirts and into the dense trees, you almost stung your sandal-clad feet twice before reaching a river. The river had no god of itself, but you still threw in an offering and muttered. Stupid human. And then you sat beside the river and- nothing. Your routine was boring, obviously a ritual to let you escape from reality. Yet, he couldn’t tear away from you. The woman at the river Shiganshina was a different one than the woman who served her father. The one here relaxed her shoulders, cursed at the world around her, smiled- albeit randomly but it was real. He decided there that he would kill you tomorrow.

But when, the next day, you led him back to the river, Armin was lost in you again. Lost in your honestly, lost in your need to escape. He wanted to see more, he needed to see more. Metaphorically, of course. But when you began undressing, the pleated robes dropping to reveal soft skin and tender curves, the god of the sea realised that he wouldn’t mind literally seeing more of you. Armin had been with goddesses and nymphs and, hell, even Aphrodite herself, but never had he been this awestruck. He had to hold himself back. Even though the way you were bathing made it seem like you were worshipping him, water dripping from your body, wet hair hiding the swell of your breasts. Armin’s breath stuttered. He couldn’t reveal himself. He couldn’t.

So, he watched, and watched. Trying desperately to take in everything you were from a distance. Armin didn’t count the number of times he visited you before finally decided that killing you was no longer an option. He told himself that his change of mind was progressive. A practical choice to draw out his revenge into the most painful and convoluted Odyssey. To do that, he couldn’t kill you. No. He was going to take you for himself. Armin was going to turn the daughter of the merchant into a servant of the one God he detested.

Putting the thought into your mind was pathetically easy. As you walked past his temple on your way home, an echo of laughter emerged from the marble building. You paused for only a moment, but it was enough for Armin to catch the look in your eyes. It was one of longing, mixed with a curiosity that threatened to pull you in. But you seemed to catch yourself in the act and hastened yourself home.

And so, Armin’s true Odyssey began. 

For his journey to progress, he had to meet you. Not as a bird or a horse or through glances as a guest. He had to meet you properly. This was the only way to draw you in, he told himself. The only way for you to submit completely and willingly.

Armin could have forced you too your knees, but he had to ensure that your father watched has his daughter chose Armin over him. And chose Armin you would. Every piece was in perfect place. The fates seemed to have woven a beautiful cloth of gold for the god of the sea.

What he failed to realise was that the cloth was in fact a snare- a trap which he will never be able to escape from.

Eleven months ago:

A short gust of wind had the pears in your thin basket tumbling down onto the rocky ground. You rushed after the fruit, crouching down to pick it up when a shadow appeared, and a hand reached out to pick it up for you. The sandal-clad feet were pale- paler than anyone living on this warm island and the robes a fine, ironed white. He somehow seemed to glow brighter than his clothes, and you purposefully let your fingers graze his as you picked up the fruit.

“Thank you,” you said, standing up.

You were hoping that he wouldn’t catch your staring. But even if he did, you couldn’t tear your eyes off him. He was lean, taller than you but not intimidatingly so and his eyes were like oceans that you found yourself staring into as he introduced himself as Mr Arlert. Just Mr Arlert. The new owner of the stables with a voice so soft, it took a moment before you remembered to introduce yourself.

“Y/N. And thank you, again.” It isn’t appropriate for an unmarried woman to be talking to a man on her own, but you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you have a first name Mr Arlert?”

His smile was contagious. “I do. But names are a powerful thing. I’m afraid I can’t give mine up freely.”

“Oh.” You scrunched your nose. “Can I pay for it then?”

You were dead serious, but the blond man laughed. How can someone look so pretty when they laugh? You wondered.

“I’m serious! I can pay you; name your price.”

Mr Arlert looked down at you, blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll think about it.”

“So, is that a no?”

“It’s a no, for now. One day I’ll tell you my name.”

He was sweet, so sweet, but you still gave him a sceptical frown, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. Mr Arlert in turn gave you a sorry look before his eyes lit up and he pulled out from his brown satchel a small book of yellowed pages and a dusty blue cover, the gold embossing hardly visible. You nose only scrunched further.

“My name is in this story. It’s mentioned few times, but it’s an important one,” he said to you.

You took the book and flipped through the worn pages, immediately recognising the tale of Aphrodite and Ares. The lovers.

Why the challenge? You wanted to ask Mr Arlert but you knew the answer you your get would be too cryptic. Besides, you think, I like a challenge.

“How long do I have?” You asked instead.

“A year and a day.”

“And what will I get if I figure it out?”

At this, he pondered. But it seemed feigned, and you wondered, just for a split second, if the man had planned this from the beginning. But why? This was another one of your questions that went unanswered that day. Because before you could say anything more, Mr Arlert leaned forward and said, “Your reward will be divine”. And he walked away.

Nine months ago:

Life was well after Armin arrived. There was no other way to put it. Your father was confining himself to his room more often than before, and you were finding more opportunities to visit the river, leave the house and, eventually, you met the handsome baker’s son. Jean was kind, a gentleman, but not the arrogant type like most the men your age. You didn’t even feel too much guilt when you thought that spending a future with Jean- taking care of him and his home- wouldn’t be too bad. It’s quite pathetic that your life had been reduced to not being “too bad”, but the idea of marrying Jean sat on the comfortable line between reality and fantasy. Safety.

And then you were visited at the river.

Mr Arlert wasn’t even surprised to find you there, he had just smiled and sat beside you as you clenched your fists and forced yourself to smile back at him. You had always enjoyed him, his company, his challenges, but now it was like he was provoking you. The river Shiganshina was your river, your special place away from the hellscape that was the town. And now Mr Arlert had brought himself and his ordinary life into it.

You pulled your sandals back on, the crease in your brow evident. He clearly couldn’t get the hint. But before you could stand up, he spoke, and you paused.

“I wish I could jump in and swim away,” he said.

Curiosity got the best of you, as it often did with the man.

“The waterfall would kill you.”

The awkward laugh again. It had an effect on you so that your jaw couldn’t help but unclench. “If it means that I get to touch a waterfall, I wouldn’t mind, you know?”

You knew. You knew exactly what he meant. But you didn’t tell him.

“Didn’t take you as the suicidal type,” you said.

“I might get saved, who knows.”

“If you’re counting on me to jump after you, I’m letting you know I won’t.”

“I know,” he laughed. “I was thinking of more of a divine rescue.”

You finally looked at him, and- unsurprisingly- his blue eyes were glued to yours. What was surprising was his unwavering tone, his straight face. Mr Arlert was being serious. Why was he opening up to you this suddenly? So far, your interactions had consisted of him staring, you trying to guess his name, and him continuing to stare. In that order. You knew there was more to him, but it’s only now that you found yourself wanting to seek that out.

“You think Armin would save you?” You didn’t miss Arlert’s smile.

“I’m hoping I’ve gained his favour- done enough for him to allow me freedom via waterfall.”

It was your turn to smile. “You probably have, You’re at the temple often.”

“Thank you.” He blushed and you quickly pushed down the thought of how cute he looked. Sitting beside you, trousers rolled up and feet in the water, Mr Arlert looked more than cute. He looked like he belonged. You weren’t sure how that made you feel but, in that moment, you didn’t mind him entering your world.

“I think you would also be saved if you jumped into the waterfall,” Mr Arlert said.

You laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’m a nice person?”

“Something like that.” He paused. “I think Armin would appreciate your- uh- honesty. You’re like a priestess.” He laughs nervously at your expression. “You know, they have this personal affinity with the water and such.”

You knew exactly what he meant. How a stranger could read you so perfectly, you weren’t sure. But as you hid your smile between your hands, you wondered whether you were prepared to face the fear of the unknown. Maybe, with Mr Arlert, it would be a bit less unknown.

A few days later, Jean was announced missing. A search party was sent out and even Mr Arlert, on his recently acquired brown horse, couldn’t find him.

Present day:

Armin isn’t sure if he likes playing the part of the nice boy or not. Humans are simple creatures who praise him continuously and, without divine responsibilities, there is no need to take his rage out anywhere. But a god is who he is, and every day, he yearns to be seen as one. To be seen as one by you. He watches as you worship him, but you never look at him- not like you do the statues, or even the small river which you think is your only true connection to the god of the ocean.

You both want more, and you both know that, but you only ever admit it to each other when you sit beside that very river. There, in those moments, Armin feels a bit more like a god. Whenever he’s around you, he feels a bit more like a god.  

He’s told you before, but your perfect honesty has made it easy for him to unravel around you. He wants to unravel around you in other ways, too, and he wants you to unravel around him. Armin can’t count the number of times he’s sat beside you at the riverside and wanted to do nothing more than to kiss those lips of yours, to press the hard cock that he hides inside of you and watch as your eyes roll back, and you call out his name.  

But the God of the Sea is not Eren. Armin will earn you. And he’s very close to doing so. Not Mr Arlert. You have no interest in human men, that much is clear. You yearn for something more powerful. And you’re right. Only a god is worthy enough to stand beside you, lay between your legs, be in your arms. Mr Arlert is simply a means to push you to realising that the god in question is Armin.

In the meantime, he’s been nothing but patient.

It’s only when you come to his door one night, eyes puffy and red, that he lays his hands on you for the first time. He rubs your back as you cry and cry, fat tears refusing stop falling. You tell him about bout your father. About how, since he got better, he’s been refusing to let you out of the house, snapping at every moment and accusing you of being a filthy god-worshipper.

“He s-sai-d- he said we’re ‘gonna move away- said we’re gonna get as far away from the s-sea as possible.” You can hardly speak, though the tears have stopped, your voice still shakes violently. But Armin listens, he holds you close to him and repeats that everything is going to be fine.

You can’t stop thanking him as you leave, and he promises that his door is always open for you. “Whenever you call for me, I’m here,” Armin tells you. “Right beside you, always,” he adds as he watches you walk away.

He’s reached a new chapter of this Odyssey.

Present day:

You suppose your father’s death should have been expected. He was an old man, obviously depressed, and his only lifeline was his daughter who hated him.

You also suppose you should feel guilty. You don’t.

Familiar faces give their condolences and whisper questions of what is to happen to you now. You only pay heed to Sasha and Connie, though, who give you a soft hug before Sasha tells you that her family would be happy to take you in. You reassure her and everyone else that you have a plan, though your best friends are the only ones who seem to believe you.

“I heard Marie has a son who’s single, maybe they can-“

“You’re not actually talking about marriage here are you?”

“Well, the girl is all alone in the world, now! She needs a man to lead her on the right path.”

The old women are wrong, so very wrong. You don’t need a man. You’re fucking sick of men- sick of them all- everything they’ve created and everything they stand for.

What you need is a god.

The head priestess of Armin’s temple in unsurprised when you knock on her door with nothing but a bag and the clothes on your body. Those clothes are burned soon after, along with many of your other things, leaving your old life behind.

She tells you that you’re lucky there’s a place for you. The last priestess left running off with a man, “Which is a cardinal sin”, she makes sure to repeat every-so-often. The head priestess seems to hate men more than you do, sneering whenever Connie comes by.

Sasha and Connie are unsurprisingly shocked at your choice of work and even if they visit almost every day, they always tell you that they miss you. They think you’ve come the temple out of desperation- everyone does- and you let them believe. Because despite cleaning the marble floors or whatever other arduous duty you’ve been given, a smile is never far as you realise that you’re free from man. Indeed, explaining the truth to anyone would be far too difficult.

Well, except one person.

You’ve never missed anyone before. Not with your father keeping you so sheltered for most of your life. But as you push through the Head Priestess’ relentless schedule, you can’t help but miss Mr Arlert. He disappears after your father’s funeral, so you leave him a note at the empty stable with your final guess. You like to think he decided to follow his own path, you also like to think that he too wishes you were beside him, a guide in the unknown.

Present day:

The room is a box of marble, with a throne sat upon a dais at the centre and one fountain at every corner, each one sculped into a horse. The object of your interests, however, is the large bowl of water on the floor in front of the throne.

This is your initiation. You will emerge from this room not as an apprentice, but a Priestess.

You kneel down and lift the pot of clay to your lips. The head priestess kept on repeating how important it is to not put it down until you’re finished. So, you gulp the water down until you can see the image of Armin. You’re the one who selected the pot, with its faded paint depicting Armin and Hange’s fight for patronage of Sina. It’s a powerful image, but when you put the pot down, you come face to face with something very different. Armin is standing in a room-this room, you realise- and crouched down before him is a young woman, looking up in awe. It takes bit longer of a moment for you to realise that the woman is you.

Looking up slowly from the pot, the first thing you see is sandal-clad feet. Golden sandals, just as fine as the robes he wears, draped in perfect waves. The first word you think of to describe him is divine and it’s indeed accurate because-

“Mr Arlert.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

But you know that’s not correct. The man- no, not a man- before you is taller than Mr Arlert, by a foot and a half at least. His muscles are more prominent that the stable boy’s ever were, strong legs visible through the large slit between the layers of fabric draped over the god’s figure. Half of his shoulder-length hair is tied back using a golden pin whilst the rest frames his perfect, perfect face. You can’t help but think that Armin looks nothing like his statues- no medium of art could capture the ocean within his eyes, glowing in the dull light of the room. Then again, the stories didn’t capture the way the god acts either.

“Armin,” you say, this time your voice louder.

Now, you know.

His sad smile is familiar, but there’s something there that never was. “Oh dear,” he says. “I’m afraid you’ve lost out wager.”

Armin can’t help but compare you to a puppy, with large eyes staring up at him from your crouched position and an expression a perfect mix of excitement, curiosity, and shock.

You reach out a hand tentatively, but it hovers in the air between the two of you once you notice Armin’s raised brow. But he doesn’t rebuke you for it. After all, it’s only your first encounter with the god. He can’t expect you to behave perfectly, to adopt the right etiquette- no, he’ll have to train you first. Like he would a baby mutt. The thought makes him smile.

“I’ll accept any consequences, my god,” you say. Your voice sounds so sure of itself, so unlike your usual ramblings, those that Armin could and would listen to for hours. Right now, though, the certainty, it’s laced with desire that sends blood rushing south. You don’t notice. You’re too lost in his eyes to notice anything.

When he places his hand on your chin to hold it up, he can feel you shiver. “Such a perfect little worshipper,” he says. “I couldn’t possibly punish you.”

Armin can swear he sees disappointment in your eyes before he turns around and walks up the dais. The marble of the throne is cold beneath him, but the sight of you looking up at him with such longing is enough to warm him up. Now, Armin is sure you’ve noticed his growing erection because you crawl towards the dais, not yet climbing it, but close enough to see and lick your lips.

“Let me thank you at least, Armin.” He almost groans at the sound of his name. God, he wants to hear you say it over and over.

“Come here.”

And you climb up the dais only to pause before Armin leans forward and grabs your hips. Two lips, as if led by an invisible string, meet. You kiss like you’ve been waiting years for Armin and, in a way, you have. His tongue is inside your mouth quickly and he’s kissing, sucking, letting his teeth gently graze your lips as he revels in the feeling of you. As your bodies lean against each other, you can feel his heart hammering against your own. His chest is stone, but his lips are so soft and your hands find his golden hair. It’s also softer than it looks, and Armin can’t help but let out a moan as you gently tug.

When you pull back, his pupils are blown. “Thank me, then,” Armin says, breathless.

Sitting between his legs, your hand is tiny compared to his cock, and you can’t stop staring at it. Long and somewhat slender, but veiny with a flushed red top- he can see you gulp before you take an experimental lick at him. Armin’s hold on your hair only tightens and you look up at him, doe eyed and seemingly innocent.

“Put it in your mouth, pretty girl,” he says, guiding your head gently. “So obedient- Yes, exactly, just like-ah- just like that.”

But he doesn’t need to push down- no- he lets you set your own pace only because you do it so perfectly, almost as perfect as the wet noises you make. Armin doesn’t have time to be surprised, he’s just able to react fast enough to suppress his own moans so he can hear your wet tongue caress the base of his cock, as your lips create the perfect o-shape to accommodate him. Your drool is everywhere in a matter of seconds- his balls are coated with it, and so is your lap, where the spit seeps through the thin white fabric you call a robe.

“Like a puppy,” he murmurs. And you look up quizzically. “You’re drooling over me like a desperate puppy- a puppy in heat,” he grunts. “You just want to please me, don’t you? ‘S alright, puppy, I’ll let you do that.”

If you could nod your head, you would. Instead, your cheeks burn, and Armin is so lost in the way that you look- not even able to take his entire cock in his mouth- that his hips begin to buck unconsciously. He hits the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden impact, but he hisses and murmurs “What a good, wet hole. So good, good-”

The earthshaker is afraid that if he speaks any louder, his voice will slur into incomprehensible sultry sounds. But as you struggle to take his cock even deeper into his mouth, he lets out groans that go straight between your own legs. You moan around him, and the reverberations make his head roll back. God, you could stare at him forever. And he would let you.

“Look at me,” he says whenever your eyes go astray. “Look at your god.”

As his hips buck more violently, Armin can feel the pressure in his lower stomach, the impending orgasm and he wants to stop- wants to hold out the way he always has. But he can’t, it’s too much and he just cannot pull out of you. He simply pushes further and further into your tight throat, repeating your name like it’s a blessing. “fuck, puppy, ‘m going to- I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that, do you you’re your god’s cum- ah, fuck, ahhh”-

Pushing your head down to the base, both of his hands at the back of your head, Armin cries out you name and you can feel the warm liquid go down your throat, thick ropes filling up your mouth, some of it dribbling out. Armin reflexively pushes it back in your mouth, ordering you to swallow it all, to show how grateful you are. Of course, you oblige. But before you can even regain your breath, Armin suddenly pulls you off his cock. His pupils are dilated, and he wears an expression- anger? Shock?

“You’re not a virgin,” he hisses, teeth gritting against each other. His breath is frantic, uneven. It’s not a question and you begin to recognise his expression. Rage. “You’ve done this before.”

Fuck.

The God of the sea has his fair share of consorts and mistresses. Some of them virgins- though he never chases them the way Eren does- some of them not, but none have made him cum so fast. He would like to blame it on the year of pining, of restraint, but he knows better. It’s you. You do this him. You make him so wild, so willing, so pliant even. 

In that moment, as he looks your worried face, so desperate to please, he thinks that he’ll never be able to let it go. You’ve consumed Armin and he wants to do nothing more than burn eternally. You must understand that- that you exist as his beacon, that’s where you’ll be your happiest, but those thoughts are too complex for a human. You, in your fragile state, can’t understand. It’s alright, he’ll just have to show you bit by bit that you’re his. But to do so, he must first take on the role he’s familiar with. That of the punisher.

“Who is he?” Armin snaps.

“It was only-“

“Who is he?”

You pause. Memories of nights spent together, huddled close and trying to keep quiet already fading. “Berthrolt Hoover.”

Armin’s shoulders relax, “I see.”

His breathing slowly goes back to normal, and, at the back of your mind, you know you’ve signed the young warrior’s death. But your worry is fleeting as Armin grabs you by the neck and hoists you over his knees, laying you down on your stomach effortlessly. “A priestess who isn’t a virgin?”

You look up as see Armin’s familiar sweet smile, but it’s laced with mirth that makes you forget the Mr Arlert he was before. You cry out at the first slap of his hand on your ass, more out of surprise than pain.

“I don’t think the people of Paradis will be very happy to hear that,” he says. “An unmarried woman giving herself away to a pathetic boy.”

Slap!

“I’m sorry!” you cry out. “It was a mis-”

He slaps you thrice.

“No excuses, dumb little puppy. I’m afraid you’ll have to endure this punishment.” His voice is deceptively soft, as if he is actually sorry. And when you look back up at Armin, his face betrays no malice. But it doesn’t show any cruelty either. Instead, there’s a fascination.

Armin has you sprawled across his lap, at his mercy and he is discovering you bit by bit. As a god. His cock twitches and then suddenly he tugs off the fabric of your robes and they disappear.

The way you squirm is half- hearted, and Armin has to laugh. “Embarrassed? Now of all times? I didn’t know you were such a prude. Or is this all just to compensate for the fact that you’re a whore in my temple?”

You shake your head, “I swear, I’ve never belonged to any man!”

Fingers trace the expanse of your naked body, soft enough to send shivers down your spine. “Oh? Really?”

“Yes yes, I swear, ah!” His fingers find your naked ass and they grab onto the flesh, massaging, groping, feeling you. Armin’s other hand rests on top of your head, stroking it gently and you’re so lost in his touch that you almost forget to speak.

“I belong to no man, I never have. Only you. It’s always been you, Armin.”

The god’s eyes widen, and he gently pulls you up from his lap only to seat you on it, upright and, this time, there’s so much more to admire. “You’re right,” he says. Armin captures your lips and this time, it’s longer, rougher. He doesn’t want to pull back, doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your soft lips against his, but his hands have already found your breasts and soon, his tongue joins them. You moan as he begins to lap at your breasts, leaving hickeys and spit in his wake as his finally finds your nipples and begins sucking them like a child as you whine and lean into him.

“You do belong to me,” he finally says, his voice partially muffled as he loses himself in the worship your breasts. “You’ve always belonged to me.”

And you can do nothing more than nod your head as your fingers tangle in Armin’s hair and you’re pulled into another kiss. His hand goes down your body, squeezing every single mound of flesh as if it needs to be touched so that when he finds your cunt, Armin can’t help but smile at how wet you are.

“Already, but I’ve hardly done anything to you?”

What a liar, but you don’t have a chance to tell him before he plunges a finger inside of you. “Oh, puppy, my puppy,” he groans at the contact the same time you moan, pushing your hips against his digits. “You like my fingers like that inside of you?”

“Yes, yes, I do, I really love them- it feels, oh my god, it feels too good!” you grip his shoulders, unable to do anything but desperately buck your hips at the smiling Armin. He knows what he’s doing, he knows that his fingers are giving you just that satisfaction, but it’s still not enough to bring you over the edge.

“Please Armin, please.” You squeeze his shoulders.

“Tell me what you want, tell me, I’ll give it to you- I swear.”

“I want to feel you, all- ah- all of you. I need to feel you inside of me!”

You’re not sure at which moment Armin removes his robes, but as he moves both of your legs so that you’re straddling him, your hands are on his bare, lean chest. The god’s nipples are flushed pink and pert, practically calling to you and you respond by brushing your fingers over them and watching him twitch ever-so-slightly in response. You withhold the urge to take them into your mouth, even as Armin rubs his cock against your cunt, releasing the sweetest of sounds.

He’s already leaking precum and it mixes with your juices so perfectly, his cock being dragged back and forth, only making you gush even more. “So messy,” he mumbles as he uses his tip to spreads your juices across your thighs. At this point, you can practically feel it throbbing, ready to be sheathed inside of you and the whimpers of your desperation echo against the temple walls.

When Armin slips inside of you, simultaneous gasps escape your lips. The god pulls your body closer to his as you throw your head back, stars in your eyes.

“Look,” he whispers. “Look how easily I slip in- it’s- it’s like your cunt is made for me.”

“Armin,” you whisper back. “Armin, Armin- ah- Armin.”

He sinks you down slowly, the stretch hitting every single spot that leaves your legs practically limp. The god is holding you up, whispering his own mantra that you can’t hear over your bliss. Once inside, your eyes look lock with Armin’s and he’s staring at you in a way he’s never done before. You’ve never seen pupils so dilated and the two of you stay like that as if making up for the moments when you should have been connected in this way. An eternity, it seems, the two of you have needed each other.

“I’m your god,” Armin finally says. “I’m your god and- hng ah-” He begins moving you up and down his shaft. “And I’m going to make you cum all over this cock- okay? All over your god’s cock.”

You nod your head pathetically as he lifts your hips and slams them down against his own. He is strong, ruthless in the way he bucks his hips up every time he lifts you from his cock, as if he can’t bare the empty feeling of not having your tight pussy clamped around him. At this relentless pace, you’re sure that the sound of your connecting bodies could penetrate even these marble walls. And yet, you don’t hold back. Thanks and praises spill from your swollen lips and Armin can’t help but lean forward and push his tongue between your mouth, as if he can absorb all of your word. “So good, so good, it’s- uah- I just want more, more of your cock, you fill me up so good!”

Armin can’t deny you. He pushes your thighs to your chest and picks up your entire body to fuck himself. He manoeuvres your body like a toy and as your tongue rolls out and your eyes become glassy, you begin to look like one too. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are incomprehensible, even as Armin attaches his mouth to one of your bouncing tits, you can only squeal.

“Such a good puppy,” he says between kisses. “Letting me use her holes like this. A god using a puppy’s holes- you should be- you should be grateful! Tell me, tell me you’re grateful!”

“I am!” you cry out. “I am grateful!”

“Good girl, good puppygirl.”

When Armin flips you over, you’re sat on his throne and he fucks into you harder, harder than he was doing before, and you swear his moans are louder too. He’s looking down at the movement of your stomach as if hypnotized by the way his cock disappears into you. And, in a way, he is. The fascination of being inside of you- just the idea even- is enough to make him want to cum.

The sudden position has him hitting new spots and the build-up is so fast, you hardly have the time to warn him. “Armin, Armin I’m cum-“

He grabs your face as you release around his cock, body spasming but unable to look away as Armin’s gaze burns through you. “Good girl,” he says. “Show me, show me how you cum. Just like that, just like that.”

He continues to plough his hips into yours and the spasms of your pussy leave him unable to hold back. “Inside of you,” he practically growls. “I’m going to cum inside of you- yes, yes, yes I am puppy. I’m going to cum inside of you and you’re going to show me how you take it yeah?”

You’re too far gone to even register the implications of what he’s saying, but he buries his cock in your warm walls and releases his cum inside of you with a heavy groan. “Just like that, just like that- I’m going to fill you up with my seed, puppy, my puppy.”

Armin feels like he’s emptied his balls- two powerful orgasms which leave his legs shaking violently. And yet, he pulls out of you slowly and stands back up to his full height, cock in front of your face. Almost instinctively, you rub your cheek against it, giving Armin soft kitten licks and he coos at you, stroking your hair. But he doesn’t push, he just holds his cock there and pumps softly as he stares at your fucked out face. Messy, covered in his spit, his hickeys, his bites, his cum- you look perfect, divine. Only one thing is missing. “I’m going to give you everything I have, puppy. And you’re going to take it, okay?” You nod and open your mouth for him and, immediately, a strong stream of pee emerges.

At the bitter taste on your tongue, your eyes roll back, and you spread your legs even wider, a welcome to the mess he is about to make. Armin accepts and angles his cock to release his pee over your chest, then your stomach, and then your already-throbbing cunt. He lifts a foot to rest on the throne and Armin doesn’t think he’s even seen such a beautiful sight in his life.

As if guided by an implicit will, Armin’s foot hovers on top of you and suddenly, he presses against your lower stomach. Your eyes snap back into focus as you whine out for him to wait, wait just a moment “I just had water,” you cry out. “It’s gonna- It’s gonna come out!”

But Armin simply grins. “Let it come out,” he says and presses his foot down harder. “Pee yourself dumb little mutt, be a good puppy for your owner.” The trickle that emerges is involuntary, but Armin’s grin is wider. “Yes, good girl, just like that. Let me see more, let me see more of you.”

The pressure that was holding the bowl of water back broke and you felt the warm liquid against your thighs before you realise what’s happening. Armin practically moans as he watches you whimper and struggle to hold your pee back as it spreads over the throne, the dais, and even Armin himself. He doesn’t stop until you’ve given it all to him.

You expect Armin to disappear. 

You’ve given him everything. His goal is complete, you think, he has nothing more to do with you. But, as he has done many times before, the god surprises you. Armin’s body is heavy against yours when he collapses on top of you, but the weight is comforting. Despite the malaise of urine and cum rubbing against both of your bodies, you wrap your arms around the god of the ocean and hold him close. 

Even as you close your eyes and lean your head back on the marble throne, Armin doesn’t leave you. Even as you open your eyes back up and see blue ones staring back at you, the look he gives you is so familiar and long hair in such unfamiliar disarray that you can’t help but smile.

He doesn’t ask why. Instead, Armin calls forth a stream of warm water from the adjacent fountain to clean the both of you. It feels like a fever dream the way floating droplets caress your bodies, and when Armin stands you up, his hands not leaving you, the perfume that suddenly envelops you is heavenly.

“Can I give you a last kiss, please?” you ask when your robe appears once again. And Armin leans forward to capture your lips, dragging his tongue on your bottom lip as if to taste you.

It doesn’t feel like a final kiss. You’ve had many of them- Jean, Sasha, Berthrold, your father, and even your mother, though you can’t remember it. This kiss is different. It feels less like a kiss and more like a promise, a vow. a shiver runs down your spine. 

“I am your god,” he says and lifts his both of his hands slowly to wrap around your neck. “And you’re my worshipper.” You gasp as a cold sensation spreads around your neck, just below Armin’s fingers. It’s sudden, and heavy and when he removes his hands, yours fly to your neck and there’s a metal band there where there was none before.

“It’s sculpted from Hephaestus’ gold,” Armin says as he strokes his fingers along the metal. But he’s not looking at his gift, instead he looks at you. 

“Armin- I- this is. But why?”

For the first time, he can’t read your expression. But it doesn’t matter. You belong to him. You always have, but now you know. And if it takes time for you to understand, Armin can wait. He’ll wait right beside you, always, always there to guide you.

“This is not the end of my Odyssey. My Odyssey is eternal,” he says before giving you another short kiss and disappearing, the warmth of his lips still present.

The gods might not all be fickle, you think, so you just smile sadly. But the gods are all selfish, so you touch the collar around your neck.

A/N: This is my first ever collab and I was- as still am- a bit insecure about how this story turned out so I appreciate all of your support ❤️. I would also like to apologise to my fellow history nerds for the historical inaccuracies. 

[raggaraddy]

Sugar Daddy turned sour

Request: Hi!!!! read all of ur works its all amazing cant believe ur new.. can i request for a yan sugar daddy taehyung x reader x yan sugar daddy jungkook. they found out that that y/n have 2 sugar daddies and they lost their sanity(as if they even have that)...Thank u and YOU GOOD,KEEP GOING💜💞💞💞💞😘😁

A/N: I don't know how to post a reply to a personal message yet because I am new and Tumblr deficient 😅 But I hope you like the scenario ^-^ thanks for the request 💜

Here for Part 2

Summary: Juggling two guys and getting everything you want from them has always been easy for you, and Taehyung and Jungkook are no exception. Or so you thought.

Trigger warnings: Mentions of non-con, assault, cheating, violence.

Yandere! Taehyung

Yandere! Jungkook

Sunday.  Taehyungs day.  

You open your webcam, checking your eyeliner quickly in the startup view as you wait for the Tae to pick up on the other side. He pops up quickly a beaming smile filling his face.  

“Y/n! Baby, I’ve missed you.” He’s radiant. As happy and as bubbly he always is. 

You go along listening to him excitedly run through his past few days, telling you everything in excruciating detail as he jumps from one half-finished thought to another. He may be an adult but he certainly has a young soul. The whole while you feign attention, your fingers continually fidgeting with the diamond necklace or the matching bracelet he had sent you a few weeks back.

“How was your weekend?”  He finally gets around to asking. 

“Not so good. I always have to work so much," You complain, batting your eyes at the camera.  

“You could always quit and come live with me.” He jokes-but not really. It’s a topic he has raised 3 times already.  And you have the same answer ready as always. 

“Daddy, you know I’m a strong and independent woman. I could never let someone else pay for me.” You pout, running your tongue over your lower lip while pushing your chest up a little to draw attention.  “It’s just my rent is so expensive. I feel like I work just to pay the bills.” 

In truth, your rent is already being covered by someone else.  But he doesn’t need to know that. 

While you continue to run through the fabricated details of your weekend, Taehyung is distracted, looking down at his phone.  You know what's happening. It’s like a game. And you’re winning. Your banking app sends a notification, letting you know that K. Taehyung has just sent you a payment. 

You open it up. Yep. That's rent for the month.  Or more, money for that new TV you wanted.  

“Oh! Daddy, noo.” You whine down the camera. “You can’t.  I am okay. Really. Please don’t spend your money on me.” You frown if only to stop the smile that is fighting to fill your face. 

“I want to baby. I have the money, and I just want you to be happy. Don’t stress about bills okay. I’m here.” 

Sometimes, it’s almost too easy.  

“Okay Daddy, if you insist.”

Tuesday.  Jungkooks day.  

With Jungkook it’s a much more straightforward transaction.  He has said he wants to pay for you and he hates the back and forth pretences.  He just wants you to say thank you, smile pretty, and give him all your attention.  

“Do you need anything more for the week?” He asks through the camera.

“No Daddy, you take such good care of me. Thank you.” You smile. 

“You still have the weekend of the 14th off?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.  Off-screen you quickly scan through your calendar.  

14th, 15th and 16th: Jk weekend.  

Hmm, that came up quicker than you expected. You try to keep your booty calls with them as far apart as possible. 

“Of course, I’m so excited! I haven’t seen you in weeks.” You say, it been less than 100% truthful.

“Months.” He corrects with a surreptitious undertone.  

“Where are we staying this time?” 

You always insist to stay in hotels. Because ‘your apartment feels too busy and mundane, and you want the time you spend with him to be magical and undistracted’. Honestly, you just don’t want him, either of them, in your personal space. You purposefully chose boys who live a few hours away.  It’s hard enough to keep them separated in your everyday life with them being far away. It could only get messy for them to know where you live and how to reach you in person.

You’ve certainly gotten smart at this. Arranging the two men into different days of the week, scheduling them into your calendar to keep them apart and unaware of the other. Both had specifically said very early on that they do not want to share you with anyone else.  And that you were all theirs. And while both of them seemed to trust you, you knew their reactions would be unpleasant, to say the least, if they found out about the other. 

Sugar Daddies can be so possessive. 

But while both these men are very handsome, money is better and more reliable than boys. And if they are stupid enough to spend it all on you, why should you care.

The week passes quickly and it’s the 14th.  Once more you find yourself in the lobby of a 5-star hotel. Jungkook arrived in town early and sent you a message with the room number. 

Time to actually work for your money. 

You knock on the door only to find it slightly open.  Entering there is a trail of rose petals lining the floor leading into the suite. All the lights are dimmed with a warmth of candlelight filling the room. This is so typically Jungkook. Pulling out all the stops to try to impress. 

Dropping your bag at the entrance, you close the door behind you and explore inwards.  

“Daddy?” You call out in a singsong voice. Your heels clack on the tiled floor as you round the corner into the living room. Jungkook is sitting on the lounge, one leg crossed over the other, arms rested up over the back. You smile at seeing him. You always seem to forget just how stunning he is in person. 

“Which one of us are you referring to?” A deep voice startles you from behind. You jolt, spinning to see Taehyung standing behind you leaning against the wall.  

Holy fuck. 

Your mind starts to jumble through what is happening. Thinking about what it was that might have given you away. Evaluating how much they may know. And planning your next move.  

Damn it.  You doubt you’ll be able to smooth talk your way out of this with Jungkook. He’s too direct and absolute. So you’ll just have to accept that that relationship is over. However, you might be able to salvage this situation with Taehyung if you play your cards right. Being defensive should do the trick.

“What is this?” You snap, keeping focused on Taehyung. “This is such a violation of my privacy! You keep smothering me Taehyung! See this is why I tried to find someone else to hang out with.” You stomp your foot. He would always wrap around your finger so quickly with the little girl act. 

“Ha!” He blurts out a short laugh in contradiction to how you expected him to react. “Wow. No, go on. I want to see where this is going.” 

“Do you think we only just found out about each other?” Jungkook pipes up, coming from the couch. 

You sigh. You had almost saved enough for a holiday to the Maldives too. But they seem to know too much. Fine. You can burn both relationships. They were starting to get too clingy anyway.  “Whatever.” You roll your eyes. You got all you could from them. Time to move on to the next.

As you shrug them off, Taehyung steps into the path of the front door. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Both he and Jungkook start to close in tighter. There is a cold tone to his words. Something far too close to a threat for your comfort. Even in heels, both men naturally stand taller than you which usually wouldn’t bother you. But with an unsteadiness to your footing and a very short dress on, in a dark room with two men you have used and spurned, you are feeling even more vulnerable than you feel you should. 

“Move.” You order. 

A smirk on his lips, Taehyung lifts his hand up and backhands you, knocking you back a few stumbled steps. You gasp, your hand clinging to your cheek, eyes wide in shock. He starts forward, Jungkook intervening, standing between the two of you. 

You can not believe he just hit you! He has never done anything like that before.

“No, don’t do that.” He stops Taehyung as he starts to swing again.  Shaking all over, you’re relieved that one of them is seeing sense.  You take the outstretched hand of Jungkook, lip trembling from the burn on your cheek. He draws you closer and you wrap into him for protection. In the same motion, his free hand swings down punching you in the stomach, doubling you over, dropping you to the floor. “If you hit her head, she might get spaced out. I want her to feel this.”

His words send a chill down your spine. This can not be happening.

“Are you crazy!” You gape, trying to speak while gulping down air. Your head is dizzy, your lungs burning.  Kicking off your heels for better movement, you climb back up to your feet not wanting to engage either man. Eyes focused you look past Taehyung to the door, storming forward. “I’m leaving. We’ll forget all of this, okay.” You bargain through short, panicked breath. 

Taehyungs large hand slams you into the wall, pressing his palm against your shoulder. He follows Jungkooks lead, pounding his fist into your gut. And then again. And again.  His hold removes letting you free and you plummet to the ground, crying within broken huffs while cradling your battered torso. 

“You’re right. That is better.” He laughs at Jungkook. 

“Stop!” You beg, unable to raise your voice above a soft yelp. 

“What's wrong baby? You wanted two men. Now you have them.” Taehyungs bright smile returns to his face. This time with an entirely different meaning than it had ever had until it shifts into a straight, harsh look that you have never seen from him. “Didn't you always say you wished there was some way you could repay me?” 

“You said that to me too.” Jungkook joins his side, both hovering above you, trapping you between them, the wall, and the floor. 

Leaning down Jungkooks hand follows you as you squirm away from him. His fingers wrapped around your throat and lift you up, keeping you against the wall. He takes advantage of you being stuck, leaning into you pressing his lips to yours as you resist as much as you can. 

“Baby, you’re going to pay us back for every dollar we spent on you.” He snarls. 

Taehyung turns your face to him, also forcing a kiss on you. “Don’t worry, Y/n, you’ll see that we know how to share.”  

Part 2

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

❥ 𝓗𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓐𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓪

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐻𝑖𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠! 𝐽𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑢𝑛ℎ𝑜 × 𝐴𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: 𝑭𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚/𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒌 𝑴𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚 𝑨𝑼

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 11.2𝑲

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊��𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉, 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒐𝒏.

“𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑓 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟….

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼'𝑚 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑟.”- 𝑈𝑛𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑛

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

The young woman panted softly, her soft [insert color] locks flowing behind her head, as free and wild as she was. Although her body was already aching and desperately crying out for her to stop, she pushed on even further. Her legs continued running, she felt an intense burn rip through them but she didn't care at all. Her gaze was fixed on the orchid tree just a few meters in front of her, the object she used as her finishing line. With a loud grunt she pressed herself forward, nearly loosing her footing but eventually touching the trunk of it. Raspy breaths came out of her mouth, she inhaled and exhaled deeply, nonetheless a satisfied smile was spread across her countenance, proud that she didn't give up this time, that she was able to break past her limit and endure much more.

Dusting the dirt off her tunic, she picked up her container of water, quickly taking a long gulp from it before starting her journey back home. The sun was already starting to set and would probably have completely gone down by the time she got back, but she didn't mind. She felt satisfaction knowing she did something useful and that would maybe benefit her in the future. Standing in front of the tall gated doors, the guards posted at each end took one look at her before bowing their heads to her in respect. The doors were immediately opened and she stepped inside into a grandiose hall of the palace. Red and gold silk drapes were hung on each of the windows that allowed one to look out into the courtyard which was most commonly used by the royal women to walk about and chatter while their husbands were inside discussing political affairs or training out in the sparring hall. She could probably guess that her father was probably in his study room, pouring over documents, studying them intently and making sure they were all correct.

As she was making her way towards her room, she heard the sound of tiny giggling and high pitched voices rounding the corner she was just about to take. One of the girls stumbled into her as she was not paying attention to what was ahead of her, instead busy chatting with her friend next to her. But she wasn't surprised, after all, she knew her cousin Ariadne better than anyone else, never watching where she was going.

"Oh! Y/N. Didn't see you there." She gave her usual apology she did to almost anyone she crossed paths with that resulted in disaster.

Her friend next to her properly bowed to Y/N. Just cause she was privileged enough to be friends with the princess' cousin and member of the royal family, it did not mean they were equal in any way or form.

"You really should look ahead of you sometimes."

Y/N walked past both of them to go to her bed chamber, not missing at all the strange glances both girls gave her nor was blind to the way they peered at her athlete tunic as if they were horrified at what they saw. Y/N was used to it by now, she had accepted a long time ago that she was vastly different from all the girls her age in Greece.

For starters, not only was she the princess but she was the only heir her father had. Although her father was disappointed at never acquiring a male heir, especially after the death of his beloved wife, he decided to make the best of his situation, in this case, it meant preparing his daughter and having her properly educated in governmental affairs and politics, even against the advice of all his council men.

"My daughter will be able to do anything a male can do and better!" He always stated, and he was always proud to show his prized possession off.

He especially loved to boast about one thing in particular: her athleticism. Ever since she was young, she had already demonstrated an incredible strength and agility that immediately put her to be trained alongside other boys her age or older in the academy for future athletes. Her specialty was running, and she truly did love it. The rush flowing through her body, the pumping of her heartbeat, it was all worth it. She never cared that court officials would look at her weird or the ladies of the palace, including her own relatives, would often scoff or sneer at her rather 'unfeminine' appearance. That didn't matter to her at all.

"I am Y/N, I am me, and I'm happy of who I am."

She repeated what she often said in front of her mirror every night like a ritual before going to bed, her limbs exhausted after the long hours of training she put herself through. She did not actually have to train, it's not like she could actually compete in any Olympics or games the country held every year. But she kept pushing forward, knowing one day she'd have a reason to be running, she did not know what it was, but she could feel it.

Something big was going to come.

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

"Too slow shortie."

Y/N grunted when her arch rival swiftly passed her on the track, a smug smile tugged on the corners of his lips. Wanting a take the smirk off, she pushed herself forward, wanting to catch up to him. She was a mere arm span away from him, which actually surprised him. She thrusted herself forward, but her ankle accidentally bent sideways, causing her to lose her balance and fall onto the floor. The golden haired man in front of her couldn't help himself as he stopped running and actually doubled over in laughter.

"Stop it Leon." She glared at him before inspecting her ankle to make sure there wasn't any serious damage to it.

"Or what? Will you ask your father to behead me?" He continued his teasing.

Not wanting to hear his annoying voice anymore, she quickly stood up and decided to just go find somewhere else to run instead of the track field. As she was leaving, Leon called out to her.

"Just give up Y/N! I'm the best runner in all of Greece! You'll never be able to beat me."

Y/N halted her steps, whipping her head towards him. He snickered at her attempt to intimidate him.

"What? Do you really believe you can beat me at least once?"

Y/N walked back over to him, looking up at him straight in the face.

"I don't believe. I will beat you one day and will make you regret all your words." She flashed him an icy smile.

"The day you beat me in a race is the day I'll die. I'll never allow myself to lose to a girl. " He firmly said.

Y/N lifted her hand up, unable to resist the urge to swing at him just once, but unfortunately a voice called out to her before she could even make contact with Leon.

"Y/N. You're needed back at the palace." The voice of her mentor and trainer, Milos, was sent to fetch her.

"Better run along now princess. It's time for your embroidery lessons." Leon winked at her before resuming his morning run.

Y/N angrily made her way to her mentor, who as usual had a small smile on his face.

"Morning to you my lady." He greeted her, extending a towel out to her

"Oh shut up. You distracted me from giving him a proper beating." She huffed as she yanked the towel away from him and draped it across her shoulders.

Milos let out a soft chuckle as he accompanied her back into the palace, leading her straight into her father's study room. Her father immediately stood up when he saw her.

"My beautiful daughter." He embraced her tightly, placing a kiss on her forehead.

Looking at her disheveled hair, glowing skin and red cheeks, he could guess where she had been.

"Did you have a good run today?" He was always curious about her progress.

Y/N immediately nodded.

"Good. Good."

Her father looked back at Milos before gesturing for him to allow them privacy. Once they were alone, her father suddenly got a grim look on his face.

"Y/N .....there has been much tension in these past council meetings."

Y/N guessed there was probably trouble. For the past month, her father refused to let any word slip out from his lips to her, which was unusual since he'd tell her all about them and sometimes even allowed her to join in on some of them so she could gain experience. Was she finally going to know what was going on?

Her father took her hands in his own.

"We have to talk about the future of the kingdom..."

Y/N felt a slight pang of fear as he said that. She always thought that the day they had the conversations she'd be thrilled, but deep down she knew there was something else going on.

"I tried, for years I've tried so hard to convince them to accept you as my heir, to allow you to rule our kingdom, put their faith in you as I have in you.."

Her heart was warmed everytime her father reassured his pride and confidence in trusting an entire kingdom to her.

"But they're not as open to the idea as I am. .... I fear it could turn into a civil war."

They both stood silent and grim. A civil war would be extremely devastating for the country, not to mention that it could last for years, innocent people would be slaughtered and the country could be divided by the end of it. Y/N understood the severity of it.

"So what am I to do?"

Although Y/N was ready to accept whatever her father asked of her, she was not prepared for what he said next.

"Y/N it's time for you to get married."

Her heart dropped at his words. Her hand went behind her body, steadying on the table behind her so she wouldn't fall. She took a deep breath just as she learned to do to calm her panic before a race. Only this time it didn't seem to work.

"Y/N, I promise it won't be that bad."

But that wasn't very reassuring. Y/N knew what it would implicate. She'd have to be behing someone for the rest of her life, be forced to live an idle life where she'd just sit there, look pretty and bear as many children as she could.....

She'd have to give up running.

"No! I can't do that!" She shook her head, unwilling to follow through what was expected of her.

Of course her father expected this reaction from her.

"Y/N please try to understand my position. It must be this way. There is no alternative."

Not wanting to listen to his words anymore, Y/N rushed out of the room, heading straight over to her room. Locking the door behind her, she flopped onto her bed, burying her face into one of her pillows so it could muffle the screams she was releasing.

She just couldn't allow this to happen.

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

"You're acting as if you're being sold off into slavery." Milos told her during her philosophy lesson.

Y/N looked up from her book, scowling at the middle aged man in front of her.

"You wouldn't understand cause you're a man."

He frowned slightly at her words but ultimately decided not to take it personal. He understood that this was a rather difficult position for her, something she never really wanted.

"Do you wish to suspend our lesson for today then?" He offered.

"And do what?" She groaned as her fingers massaged the sides of her head.

Not missing an opportunity to poke fun at his pupil, he taunted her.

"I could teach you how to crochet a nice tablecloth."

Y/N picked up her book and held it over her head, making a gesture as if she was going to throw it at him.

"I see you've already forgotten the proper way technique for shot put."

She quickly put the book down.

"It doesn't matter. None of it will matter after all. I'm destined to become a royal baby maker while my future husband rules over the empire my father and his ancestors worked so hard to build." Y/N couldn't help but lament over her situation.

"Cheer up child. There's got to be some good thing in this whole business. And if there isn't, well then....make something good out of it."

She shook her head.

"Not even all the marriage proposals that have come from other royal families seem to appease the advisors or council men. What? Do they not want to sort through papers and decide which candidate is the best option?"

"The problem with so many proposals is that it could cause dissension within the nation. You see, they can't pick one person or the other without offending all the ones that were turned down, which would cause us to loose allies and gain enemies. So of course it'll be a matter of great worry to them." Milos explained as he began rolling up the scrolls on the table.

Y/N's head started to pound against her skull as she thought about all the inconveniences her getting married would bring.

"Then why not just let me remain single? Besides, unlike all the other girls in the kingdom, I was never taught to embroider, sew, dance, play an instrument and much less style myself in the elegant and feminine fashions. It's not like I have anything to offer all these men except my throne, which should rightly belong to only me..."

Although she whispered that last part, Milos heard her very clearly. He too found it unfair that Y/N had to be stripped away from her rightful claim on the throne only due to the fact that she was born with an unfortunate yet lovely pair of breasts. He wished to find a way to comfort her. Having seen her grow up, he had become rather fond of her and almost thought of her as his own child, after all, he was the one mostly responsible for her upbringing and education. It pained him so to watch her grief and felt in utter despair that there was nothing he could do to change the destiny she was expected to lead.

Until an idea popped in his head.

"Y/N. What if you propose to marry on your own terms?"

Lifting her gaze up, she raised an eyebrow.

"Do tell me what'd those terms would be, because honestly, anything I suggest would fall on deaf ears."

Taking small steps until he stood right next to her chair, Milos placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"What about suggesting a race?"

Seeing the mischievous twinkle in his eye, now her curiosity was peaked.

"Think about it Y/N: you have all these marriage proposals lined up and they must decide on only one. Why not give yourself to the man that can outrun you? It would not only appeal to the public for entertainment, and would be a fair way to settle on a match, but it would buy you time as well. After all, how many men in all of Greece could actually outrun our dear Atalanta?"

She felt a surge of encouragement and hope after he not only found a momentary solution, but she enjoyed being called by her athlete name that he had given her long ago. Unable to contain her joy, she sprung up from her chair and embraced the man in front of her.

"Thank you Milos! Thank you thank you thank you." She squealed.

"All right all right child! No need to strangle me for it. Why don't you run along and tell your father? I'm sure he'd be pleased with the idea just as much as you."

Heeding his advice, Y/N swiftly exited the room, a stack of papers falling behind her and onto the floor from how fast she sped past them. Milos could only chuckle as he bent down to pick them up.

"A truly extraordinary girl."

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

The crowd were already all in an uproar of enthusiasm at King Iasus' words that echoed throughout the entire stadium.

"My fellow and loyal people. As you all know, my daughter, the precious gem in all of Arcadia, is finally of age and must of course, like all women in our beloved country, be married to an excellent suitor that must be worthy of her."

Resisting the urge to slump back in the chair, Y/N straightened her posture and kept her hands folded on her lap as she tried to calm her nerves. It wasn't the first time she had accompanied her father to admonish the people, but it was the first time she felt uncomfortable with her attire. All her life she had either stuck to the short athletes tunics she owned, or if her father absolutely insisted on her wearing something below her knees, she'd just wear a loose and plain beige or brown tunic. Now she was wearing an emerald green dress with golden lining on the hems, a similar colored sash was draped across her chest that was pinned to the butterfly style sleeves with large gold pins that had jade crystals adorned on the edges. Her female attendants had spent the majority of the morning crimping her hair into loose curls that were then styled in an elegant half updo, secured with a flower shaped pins that were sticking into her head in the most uncomfortable way. She felt so out of place and in her head she could already imagine all the people that were mocking or laughing at her appearance. She hardly focused on the words her father was saying until he reached the part that really interested her.

"After much discussion, we have concluded that the best way to decided is by means of a race."

A collective gasp resonated through the Colosseum, many heads turning to the one next to them, no doubt asking if they heard correctly.

"Yes it is true. Princess Atalanta, and my kingdom, will be given to the man that can outrun her in a race. Not only is this a perfect way to be fair, but it would provide much enthusiasm and joy for my dear subjects."

An applause that started small soon turned into a thunderous roar of hands clapping in approval for their king's speech. Y/N was beaming, she couldn't contain the smile on her face. It seemed as though everything was playing out perfectly for her. Once it was seen that no man could outrun her, they'd have no choice but to name her their rightful heir.

"And........" Her father paused for a dramatic effect.

"I'm happy to let you know that the first race will actually be held in one month's time."

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at that. So soon? No one had told her about that part. The crowd was already hooked, waiting to hear more details on the matter.

"Our first competitor has actually presented himself already and it is none other than our prized champion, Leon of Mantinea!"

The applause and cheers of the crowd suddenly went silent in Y/N's ears. All she could hear now was her labored breathing and the thumping of her heart. She felt it difficult to breathe, as if she had suddenly sprinted out running without properly preparing and her body was now desperately begging for air. Her head began spinning, her vision becoming blurry as she could no longer distinguish any but one face in the entire crowd...

Leon, who was actually looking straight at her with a triumphant smirk that nearly had her doubling over, threatening to make her vomit her breakfast that she had a couple hours ago. For the first time in her life, she felt a tremendous fear that she had not felt anytime else.

As soon as the ceremony was over, she was dashing out of the stadium, nearly tripping on the long train of her damned dress. It clung so tightly on her waist and hips that no matter how hard she tried, it can nearly impossible to run in it.

"Don't you look lovely for once."

She recognized that tone of mockery before even turning to see the face it belonged to. She just tried so keep walking, not wanting to have Leon stare down at her when she was in such an agitated state, unfortunately for her, within seconds he was already in front of her, blocking her path of escape.

"Move aside Leon." She ordered in a harsh tone, but it did nothing to deter him.

"Are you asking me as the princess or as a runner?" He sneered at her.

"I'm not in the mood to hear any bullshit that'll come out of your mouth."

She tried pushing past him, but he grabbed her arm, forcing her to stay put as he looked deep in her eyes.

"Get used to the idea that you'll be hearing my sweet voice every day after our race. When you wake up next to me and when you lie down next to me..."

He couldn't help himself as his eyes raked her body up and down, making Y/N cringe at the filthy thoughts that were swirling inside his evil little mind.

"You can't outrun your destiny Atalanta, and you most certainly can't outrun me. So in the end, you're going to become my bride...."

She let out a soft grunt when he pulled her closer against him, their chests practically touching as his breath hovered above her lips.

"And I'm going to become the next king."

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

"You're pushing yourself too hard Atalanta, slow down."

Milos words fell on dear ears as Y/N only picked up her speed, pushing forward until she was a few meters away from the finish line, but her legs went limp from exhaustion at having ran nonstop for the past 2 hours. Y/N squatted down, hands clutching her chest as she tried to regain her breathing. Milos shook his head at her state. Walking up to her with a jug of water, he gently poured some of the cold water onto her back and head.

Can't...slow down....must...win-" Y/N coughed slightly, unable to form any more words.

"You're pushing yourself too much and with all this stress you're enduring, it'll only serve to weigh you down even further at the actual race."

Helping to her to her feet, he extended the jug out to her so that she won't get dehydrated from lack of water. Hastily, Y/N gulped the water down, some of it trickling down her chin and neck. Against her will, she allowed Milos to guide her to a nearby stone bench for her to sit on. She looked at the ground, not wanting to say anything. Milos was the first one to speak up.

"Forgive me for asking this, but have you ever actually beaten Leon in a match?"

Y/N thought long and hard before answering.

"Once...almost."

He shook his head.

"Almost will make you a bride. That's the reality you must accept."

"I don't want to talk about reality or accepting it. I just need to practice harder. I only have a month to train."

She got up, ready to start running her laps again, but Milos stopped her.

"Y/N....the month for training wasn't for Leon...it was for you and it wasn't so you could run..."

When he paused longer than she liked, she gestured for him to speak up.

"It's to train you to become a wife. Learn to behave as a women and learn all the proper things a lady must learn."

No sooner he finished his sentence, she turned, already sauntering off into the field, quickly gaining momentum as she began running away, back to the flower fields she so often visited and ran off to.

"Y/N! Be reasonable! You cannot run from this forever!"

But that was exactly what she was planning to do, even if it costed her everything.

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

On the morning of the race, she was astonished by the amount of people that had come to watch. People pushed against the barriers intended to keep them off the track, wanting to get a better look at the runners. Milos shook his head at how ferocious the people could get.

"All they ever care about is a good spectacle..no matter how tragic it can end."

Y/N turned her face at his words.

"Thank you for reminding me that you have no faith in me."

Milos was about to speak up and say that he didn't mean it for her, but remembering that he was forbidden from telling her anything, he just kept quiet and silently prayed it would all be over soon. When Leon finally showed up, everyone began cheering, already convinced that he would end up winning and becoming their new king. None of them noticed that he had lost a bit of muscle, his face looked somewhat thinner than usual and it seemed he and his friends had done an early celebration the night before which could explain why he wobbled at times.

Y/N most definitely didn't notice, her nerves shooting up and down as she tried to mentally brace herself for the race that would ultimately decide her future. Thankfully, her trusted mentor escorted her to the starting line, patting her shoulders occasionally.

"Remember all that I've taught you. Stand up straight and don't look scared. Don't let them see your fear. Walk with dignity, even if you're trembling on the inside."

After muttering a small hymn, Milos finally retreated back to watch and monitor the race. Leon took his place next to her, wearing that daily smirk he always had. As she crouched at the start, Y/N closed her eyes and did the first thing she was taught: drown out all distractions, and only look ahead of you. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of the sun baked dust underneath her feet. She waited for the horn to signal the start. Once it blared all over, she immediately opened her eyes and sprinted forward. Her start was rather well, but her opponents was even better as he sprinted with full speed ahead of her. Y/N was tempted to increase her speed, but then Milos words came into her head:

"Don't waste all your energy at the start. Save it for the end. Let your opponent tire themselves out first, then you can use that reserved energy to quickly bypass them and defeat them."

Y/N decided to follow through on that, essentially since they had to run 3 laps around the track. She watched as Leon quickly made it to the turning post, his eyes mocking her when he went past her. Y/N had an advantage at the post, due to the fact she was lighter, she could easily reverse in direction and pick up seconds into her time. Soon enough, the gap between them both narrowed, and the crowd was now adamantly watching to see what the outcome would be. Noticing that her rival seemed to be slowing down after starting the second lap, Y/N viewed it as an opportunity and began to slowly increase her speed, holding back the urge to go at her full potential. Almost by the end of the second lap, she was already running next to Leon, who upon seeing her, had a panicked look on his face. When they both rounded the final post, Y/N swiftly got ahead of him.

Now the crowd became extremely quiet, not knowing exactly how this race was going to end. Sensing that he needed to do something, Leon sped past Y/N, although his steps were somewhat wobbly. Y/N decided this was it, pushing past her comfort zone and tired state, she ran even faster, somehow not feeling any pain. Instead her body seemed to move by itself, adjusting and keeping its balance.

She passed Leon, and the crowd let out a gasp. He tried to push even further, but found he had no energy left. His breaths came in pained groans as he lost his footing and stumbled forward onto the track, unconsciously helping propell Y/N across the finish line.

As Y/N panted, she realized she had won. Although she wanted to smile, she could feel that something was off about her victory, especially given the fact that the crowd was not cheering and instead had looks of pain and anguish in their countenances. And even more puzzling was the fact that Milos didn't come to support her, as it was customary for the trainers to do for the winners. No one approached her. Instead two guards came over, but not to her, instead they helped Leon to his feet. His face looked disdained and his eyes now looked lifeless as he stared at the ground in shame.

Her father came forward in the royal box, a serious look on his face.

"What's going on?" She asked Milos when he finally came up to her, his arms placing themselves around her, not in a comforting or congratulating way, but instead, it felt as if he was trying to confine her, keep her from moving or running.

"You all who have gathered here know very well the conditions that were made for the race. It was a race to marriage..."

Milos tightened his grip on Y/N, serving to worry her even more.

"Or to death."

When she heard those words, she whipped her head to Milos.

"Wait! What does he mean-"

She had no time to ask as she witnessed in horror as one of the guards held Leon in place while the other drew his sword out.

"No! No!"

Y/N struggled to get free from her trainer's arms, but he held onto her that she had no opportunity to move.

She watched helplessly as Leon was slain right before her eyes, his blood pouring out into the sand. ...

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

Y/N stormed into her room, Milos trailing right behind her.

"Y/N-"

"Why didn't you tell me?!" She accused him.

He sighed.

"I was forbidden from letting you know about that. Your father knew you would have never raced had you known about the death penalty."

"Of course I wouldn't! I hated Leon but I never wished for him to die! Why would my father make up that condition?" Her arms flailed all over the air in frustration.

"Leon himself suggested it..."

Y/N couldn't believe his words.

"No...why would-"

"Think of his upbringing Y/N. He was the prized champion runner in all Arcadia. It was a matter of pride. How could he have lived with the fact he was beaten in a race by a girl? He would have much rather died than live with that shame."

Recalling what he once said to her, Y/N slumped into her chair, elbows resting on her knees as her hands supported her head.

"Leon....why would you do that...stupid stupid boy.."

Wanting to comfort her, but knowing she'd reject his touch, Milos decided to leave her alone.

"Just so you know, there's already 3 more competitors lined up to race against you. The conditions still apply to them."

"I won't do it. I refuse to race against them and send them to their deaths." Y/N adamantly refused, she would not be deterred from her resolution.

"You have no say in this matter anymore Y/N....

You're a woman and you do not dictate conditions." He said before shutting the door behind him.

Y/N felt the rage coursing through her veins. She hated being reminded that she had no power, that she'd forever be chained to obey as all men ordered her to. She was angry at everyone. Her father, Milos, Leon, the advisors, the people who watched a man get murdered just for entertainment, it was all sickening and most of all, she was angry at herself. Angry that she could do nothing about it, and even more furious at the suitors who still decided to run against her, knowing fully well there'd be no chance of outrunning her.

She stood up and walked over to her mirror. This time, she did not repeat her usual chant. Instead, she said a different thing.

"If I must keep running away from my destiny, so be it...."

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

In less than 2 months, Y/N had raced against 9 other competitors, all slain at the end of each race. She no longer shrinked back in fear, she had gotten so used to seeing them die before her eyes, she felt as if she was just like their lifeless bodies on the ground. The crowds seemed to enjoy it though. It had seemed to be now a killing fest rather than a race, and she was tired of it.

That's why she had now retreated into the top of one of the hills a few miles away from the palace. She sat by an apple tree, looking out at the sun that was starting to set. Hues of red, orange, yellow and pinks adorned the sky and at the very top, she could already see a few stars peeking out, ready to shine brightly once night set in. No sound was heard except the occasional chirping of a bird passing by or her deep sorrow filled sighs that would often escape her lips. She began to see no point in this. No one even called her by her birth name anymore, instead, everyone could only talk about the female runner Atalanta, even forgetting that she was the princess and these races were not for amusement or placing useless bets. It was to decide her future, which up to now seemed like it'd be filled with severed heads and split throats. Resting her head on her arms, she closed her eyes.

"It's too beautiful a day to be looking so sad don't you think?"

She jumped to her feet, startled by the voice that spoke behind her. Looking up, she felt astonished when she saw the most beautiful and tall man she had ever seen in her life. His skin was fair and perfectly unblemished, his hair was as dark as a raven's feathers, his eyes very large and dazzled as if they were a pair of rare and exotic gems, but the most captivating feature on him had to be his smile that seemed to radiate warmth and sunshine. He definitely wasn't from there or any other province nearby. He had a beauty that screamed he was from the northern countries.

"I'm sorry if I scared you. Forgive me, it was definitely not my intention." He bowed in an apologetic form, arm crossed over his stomach as he did so.

"I'm Yunho by the way, Yunho from Thessaly."

She debated whether to reveal her identity or not, especially to a stranger from the North.

"I'm Y/N." She opted for the safer choice, refusing to utter the name that would no doubt reveal who she really was.

Tilting his head to the side, he gave her a curious gaze.

"Y/N.....? Pretty name."

She blushed slightly at his words. Noticing the small pouch he was carrying, she pointed at it.

"Are you traveling here on foot?"

He seemed a little caught off guard but nonetheless didn't loose his enthusiasm.

"Kinda, not really. I left my horse back at the inn and decided to go explore these beautiful fields and mountains....."

He looked back at her, unable to suppress a smile.

"And the scenery definitely wasn't disappointing."

Y/N smoothed out the fabric of her tunic as she cleared her throat.

"Do tell me, what brings someone like you all the way to Arcadia?"

Yunho's friendly smile turned into a more mischievous one.

"Well I'm actually here on a little personal mission. You see, there's been a rumor that reached Thessaly saying how there's a young princess here who has offered herself and her kingdom in marriage to the man who can outrun her in a race. If he loses, he must be put to death. Supposedly her name is Atalanta."

Her heart stopped for a moment. She dreaded the topic and she was even more scared to think that this handsome man might actually ask to race against her.

"I came to find out if the rumor is true. Have you heard of her?"

Y/N nodded her head, which seemed to delight Yunho.

"Then is it all true?!"

"No! It's not true! She didn't offer herself and none of it was her idea. The first challenger was the one who proposed the idea of death be given to the loser.."

Yunho stayed very quiet as he heard her speak, studying her profile intently. Feeling somewhat embarrased that she spoke too much, she decided to fix it.

"I mean....everyone around here knows that."

Yunho nodded his head, but he still kept his gaze on the woman in front of him. His eyes looked her up and down in an unusual way, as if trying to figure something out.

"With such high stakes it really makes one wonder why the runners keep trying for her? If no one has even come close to beating her, why risk their lives for it?"

It was the exact question she had asked herself a million times yet could find no reasonable explanation. All she could do was look at the green grass underneath her, her foot swaying around occasionally. She failed to notice the fond and loving look Yunho was giving her.

"She must be very beautiful."

Her head jerked up at his words, a satisfied smile on his face.

"I see no other reason. She must be extremely beautiful if athletes from all over are risking their lives to just to have her hand in marriage."

"Or maybe they don't believe they'll lose to a girl... it's foolish really."

Yunho frowned slightly before nodding.

"I agree with you on that part. It's foolish indeed to risk their lives over a race or a woman."

Picking out a leaf from one of the branches above him, he studied it carefully before letting it fall to the ground.

"Life is too precious to be gambled away like that. The gods gave us the gift of life for a reason. It's truly ungrateful to repay their kindness in such a way."

Y/N felt a wave of relief when he said that. At least she wouldn't have to worry about racing him at all.

"Either way, I'd like to observe just one race while I'm here. I'm very curious to see just how fast she is..."

He paused as he scanned Y/N's face, which was now more illuminated by the ray of light peeking out from the mountain behind them.

"And to see what is it about her that make men so crazy."

Feeling a breeze pass by her, she remembered it was getting late and she had to be back in the palace before it got dark.

"I have to go home now. I hope you enjoy your stay here."

She quickly brushed past him and Yunho couldn't help but watch her as she left.

"Goodbye Y/N!" He waved at her, which she happily returned before walking away.

Y/N waited until she felt he was no longer watching her to finally let loose and run straight back to the palace, but he did notice. He also didn't fail to notice that not only was she wearing a rather short tunic that showed off her rather toned and muscly legs, but the tunic was made of the most fine linen there was available. Chuckling to himself he began his own walk down the hill.

"I think I know now..."

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

Walking into the library where she was scheduled for her morning studies, she was puzzled as to why Milos wasn't there but instead left a note telling her she was to go see her father in the track field. She suddenly felt uneasy.

'What if he decided to cancel the races?' 'What if he had to tell her some bad news?'

Her mind kept thinking about all the endless scenarios that could possibly happen, but the reality was something she definitely did not expect. She saw her father talking to someone, she couldn't quite make out who it was since the person had his back to her. When her father caught glimpse of her, his face shone brightly.

"Ahhh there is my treasured jewel! Atalanta, sweetheart. Come meet Prince Hippomenes. He's visiting us from Thessaly."

When he finally turned around, she was shocked to see none other than Yunho in front of her, still donning that cursed smile on his face. He didn't seem surprised at all when he saw her, his look was more on the amusing side.

"Pleasure to meet the most talked about princess in the land."

She had no time to react and frankly, did not know how to react when he suddenly took a hold of her hand and placed a kiss on the top of it, his eyes looking straight at her as he did, even sending a subtle wink to her that made her legs feel weak as if she had just run a 10 kilometer race.

"I was hoping to meet you. My father, mother, siblings and frankly, all Thessaly have been wanting to know about you, so I offered myself to come meet you."

Y/N still made no move to talk, frankly she was kind of upset at him. Noticing the tense air, her father knew he needed to suggest something quick.

"My dear, why not give our guest a tour of the track and tell him all about the races you've run? I have to go talk to the council about some commercial business that can't be held off much longer."

Kissing his daughter's cheek, he excused himself and left the two familiar strangers alone. She crossed her arms, now fully glaring at the male in front of her, who was confused at her cold treatment.

"What?" He asked .

"You lied to me!"

He held up a hand at her accusation.

"Actually, I did not lie. My birth name is indeed Yunho, but obviously my royal name is a different story. And I did come here to learn about the great fame you made for yourself."

Unable to help himself, he suddenly leaned in, his tall figure looming over hers as he smirked at her.

"And truthfully, do you have any room to talk? You concealed your identity just as I did."

She wanted to say something back but knew it was pointless since he was right.

"When did you find out?" She had to know.

"Last night. You're not very good at hiding things you know."

She frowned and was considering walking away, but Yunho seemed determined not to let her go just yet.

"So.....this is where your story unfolds.."

He looked around at the track, observing every square inch of it, his feet kicking softly at the dirt underneath him.

"Yeah....."

He noticed the sad look as she gazed at a specific corner in the field, her eyes seeming to be somewhere else instead of there. Yunho could only guess what she was thinking of. Not caring if it was improper, he placed his hands on the top of her shoulders, lightly rubbing the sides of them.

"You know....it's not your fault. You have your race to run.....and they had theirs."

He fought back the urge to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her against his chest. Y/N felt slightly comforted by his words, but nonetheless couldn't shake the guilt off.

"Maybe it would have been better if I was born a male. I often wish I had been born one."

Yunho shifted awkwardly behind her, but kept a small smile as he whispered in her ear.

"Then I guess I have much to be thankful for. I happen to like your present form very much."

He cleared his throat when she whipped around to face him, suddenly feeling embarrased for his bold words, while she, never been accustomed to men talking complimenting her or talking to her like that.

"Please excuse me.."

Just like the first time they met, she quickly left him standing there, confused and disappointed that their meeting was short.

"I'll see you at the race!"

Either she didn't hear him or purposefully ignored him, but Yunho didn't have it in him to give up.

"I'll be cheering for you, Y/N!"

Briefly, she halted her steps, her head tilting slightly before resuming to walk away once more.

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

The runners ran neck to neck. Y/N felt as if her lungs were being ripped out of her body. This guy proved more of a challenge than Leon ever did, even before the infamous race to death. They were only a few meters away from the finishing line. She felt herself growing weak, her pulse ringing in her ears, her brain thumping against her skull. She tried not to look at her opponent, knowing it'd only serve to distract her and make her loose focus.

Yunho sat next to the other nobles in the very front row, watching with excitement and anxiousness as it almost got to the end.

"Come on Y/N....you can do it."

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her opponent was suddenly going ahead of her by a few inches. Soon enough, his foot would cross the finish line first.

No!!!

Not knowing from where the last burst of energy came from, Y/N pushed her body forward, tumbling forward, but eventually passing through the finishing line first. She fell onto the floor, her elbow and knee scraping against the sandy dirt, but it was nothing compared to the pain she felt in her chest. She heard the crowd roar in applause and cheer for her once again, but she could not join in on the victory. She felt Milos help her to her feet, but once she stood up, her head began spinning, her legs wobbling as if she was a newborn calf learning to walk.

"Y/N? Are you ok?"

She heard her trainer ask, but she couldn't speak, her breathing raspy and hoarse.

"I'm-I'm-"

The crowd gasped and several women began screaming when their beloved runner fell once again to the ground, unconscious and not moving. Not knowing what came over him, Yunho jumped up from his seat and ran over to her, not caring about anyone else.

"Y/N? Y/N?"

He placed a hand across her face, feeling the temperature on her forehead before taking her wrist to check her pulse. Knowing he couldn't waste any time, he effortlessly picked her up and looked over at Milos.

"Have her room ready, bring a basin of cold water in it and make sure all the windows are open."

They wasted no time in heeding his directions. Carefully, he placed Y/N on her soft bed. Grabbing a towel, he soaked it in the icy water before placing it on her forehead. He checked her pulse every now and then, satisfied when it seemed to be returning to a normal pace and freaking out when it suddenly became too low.

"Come on Y/N...don't give up on me. You've fought this long in your life....don't stop now."

Yunho refused any help, not caring that he spent hours by her side, making sure her body stayed cool. He wiped the sweat off his own forehead, exhausted but not wanting to leave her side until he was sure she'd be all right. It was late into the night when his eyes began to close slowly, feeling drowsy after not eating and being agitated for so long. He didn't know exactly when he his head fell on her lap, sleep overtaking him, one hand clutching desperately onto hers.

That's how Y/N awoke to find him. She felt so bad seeing him bent over in such an uncomfortable position, his hair tussled out and his hand still holding onto hers. She felt her heart flutter at the sight. Reaching her hand out, she moved a few of the front part of his hair away, admiring his beautiful features. Feeling her stir, Yunho opened his eyes to find her looking at him, the sunlight making her features look ethereal and almost heavenly.

"Gods in Olympus have mercy on me..." He mumbled softly as he sat up, stretching his arms out and yawning softly.

"What happened?" Y/N asked.

"It seems you got struck by heat stroke which combined with over exerting yourself, you fainted for quiet some time."

Y/N fell back onto her pillow, her hands covering her face.

"How embarrassing! And the entire city saw!"

"Frightening is the word I'd use. They were all worried about you."

Standing up, he sat on the space of the bed next to her and removed her hands away from her face, his eyes boring deep in her soul.

"And frankly I was terrified about anything happening to you..."

Y/N widened her eyes when she saw his face come close to hers, his eyes fixated on her lips. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the side before he could come any closer. Sighing defeatedly, Yunho let go of her hands and pulled away.

"Please take care of yourself. I don't want anything to happen to you."

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

Y/N stormed out of her room, not caring about the the fact she still had to stay in bed, muting the worried voices of her female servants. She asked around until she finally found out where Yunho was and quickly walked as fast as she could to the main courtyard. It took her quite a while to find him, but eventually she saw his tall silhouette admiring some of the sunflowers that were growing in the palace gardens. Fuming, she walked over to him, her feet stomping so hard on the ground that he heard her coming before he saw her. He seemed delighted to see her.

"Afternoon Y/N! Lovely to see you-"

"You can't race against me!" She shouted at him.

He stepped back at her harsh tone, but didn't seem surprised at her reaction.

"So I take it they told you about that." An apologetic smile formed across his lips.

"You can't do this. Take it back!" She demanded, but Yunho wasn't going to budge.

"I can't and I won't Y/N. I have to do this."

"But why?! You yourself said the men who risked their lived for a race were foolish and stupid! So why are you now doing the exact same thing?!"

Yunho ran a hand through his hair, letting out a puff of air as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"You're right about that and I truly still believe they were foolish for risking their lives for a race or even a kingdom..."

He paused as he looked at her before finishing his last sentence.

"But then after meeting you, seeing you.....I understand why they'd be willing to risk their lives just to have you."

Y/N felt a lump get stuck in her throat. She was afraid. Afraid of the way he was looking at her with such admiration and devotion, afraid of actually having to race him, and most of all, afraid of her own growing feelings for him.

"You know you still have a chance. Get out of this while you still can. Once I step foot on that track, I don't have control over myself and I won't let you win." She admonished him.

He merely shrugged.

"Don't go easy on me. Use your full speed."

"Oh my god! Are you even listening to yourself?! You have absolutely no chance! All the men I've raced were trained athletes, the best in all the land! You- you're a prince! You grew up with books, studying philosophy and prepared to rule a country. You've never stepped foot on a track before coming here, you.....you'll die."

She spoke those last words softly, unable to say them above a whisper. Tears began brimming at her eyes, her arms wrapping around her chest in an effort to calm herself and not cry in front of Yunho. Still he said nothing, instead opting to come closer to her, not bothering to stop himself as his large hands wrapped themselves around her waist.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take. Don't you get it? I.... I can't get you out of my mind. I have to have you. You're unlike any other woman I've met. You're fearless, strong, independent, and you're a lot smarter than most princesses I've met, even if you are terrible at stitching a flower onto a cloth."

They both let out a tiny chuckle at that.

"Blame my father for prioritizing my education over pricking my fingers on silly needles."

Yunho moved his hands from her waist to cup her cheeks.

"Point is.....I'm attracted to you ok? I want you all to myself as crazy as it sounds...

He bit his lips before uttering the next thing.

"I love you.."

She looked up at him when he said that confession.

"And honestly? I think you feel the same way..."

Before she had time to respond or react, his lips enveloped themselves around hers, capturing and covering her entire mouth in such a passionate and desperate kiss. Against her will, Y/N kissed him back, hands going to the back of his head as the played with the soft black locks he had. She forgot about everything in that sweet moment, the races, the deaths, and almost forgot about a long forgotten fear.

Almost.

Until she suddenly pulled back away from him as if he was death itself.

"No! I can't!"

Seeing her try to run away as usual, Yunho wasn't having it. He grabbed her hand, refusing to let go.

M"Why are you running away from me?! Are you afraid of me? Are you afraid of being married off? Having to give up the freedom that has been granted upon you since you were born?"

Y/N didn't respond. He had hit on the point somewhat. Not all of it, but definitely a reason why she didn't want to marry and kept pushing herself so no one would ever beat her in a race.

"I want you to know....I would never be that kind of husband. I wouldn't force you to stay home, knit, and be bored to death walking in gardens or just bear me children."

Letting go of her hand, he pulled her against his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist as his lips began whispering in her ear.

"I would never dream of taking away your freedom. I'll allow you to keep running as free as you are now. Anything you want to do, I'll allow you to. I just ask you to love me in return. You don't have to be afraid of me."

She couldn't contain her sobs at this point. Lowering her head so he couldn't see her grief stricken face, she finally poured out her feelings.

"It's not just that..... when I was a mere girl, an Oracle once came to reveal prophecies to some members of my family. Being curious, I offered them a gold brooch I had in exchange for telling me something about my future..."

Her eyes closed as she remembered the words the old woman said to her.

"The day you marry, that day will be the end of you."

She sobbed even harder now. Yunho turned her around and embraced her, allowing her to cry in his chest, not caring if it soaked his clothes or not.

"Y/N....perhaps the prophecy meant the end of you in a different way. Perhaps it wouldn't be the end of Y/N.....but the end of Atalanta. Think about it, the day someone beats you, you have to marry him, Atalanta will be no more, instead you'll be Y/N. Just Y/N. Also...... one loses themselves when you truly love someone. The end of something, also creates a new beginning."

Although his words comforted her, she could no longer hear him. The longer she stayed, the more attached she grew to him and the more it'd hurt her to see him lose against her.

"I'm sorry....I can't-"

Yunho let go of her hands and didn't stop her as she ran back towards the palace. He didn't even call out to her and he hoped she wouldn't turn around and see the sad and heartbroken look he had on his countenance for the first time in his life.

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

Y/N walked out into the field wearing a heavy grim on her face, the cheers of the crowd no longer having an effect on her. She felt like she was walking out to her own execution. If Yunho died because of her, she could never live with herself.

"Cheer up child. Perhaps he won't have to die after all." Milos hinted at her.

"He's not an athlete. Even if I use half my speed, he'd still lose."

Milos nodded at her.

"That may be true.........and yet....perhaps he could win who knows? He was gone all night yesterday sacrificing to the gods."

"All the other athletes sacrificed to different gods. To Zeus, to Athena, to Apollo, and look how they all ended up." She retorted.

"Perhaps they were all sacrificing to the wrong one. I can tell you this: Yunho sacrificed to one goddess none of them thought about......"

Y/N looked at him and waited for him to finish.

"Aphrodite."

Her stomach lurched, threatening her to become sick again.

When Yunho finally stepped out, the crowd, more specifically the women, began cheering loudly for him. During his short stay there, he had already attracted a pretty good number of admirers and fans. Some had even made beautiful embroidered banners with his name stitched across it. When he stepped up to her, he had that usual smile of his that always melted her heart.

"Good luck to you Y/N." He took her hand, instead of shaking it though, he placed a kiss on it, causing several 'awws' to emit from the crowd.

Y/N retreated her hand and cleared her throat.

"No offense but your tunic is not very well suited for a race. It'll cause you to loose speed."

Pointing at the odd pouch strapped around his waist, she looked at him for an explanation.

"Good luck charms." He patted the pouch.

Y/N was about to say something, but he stopped her.

"Y/N this might be the last time I ever talk to you let alone see you in this lifetime...so please...don't worry and don't say unkind words.... and let me say just in case that I love you."

He waited for her to say something but she said nothing. They just followed the announcers instructions to get in position.

When the horn blasted, Y/N took off running at the usual speed speed she tended to use at the beginning of a race. Unsurprisingly, Yunho was a long way away from her, a large gap in between them. Y/N rounded the first turn and doubled back and saw him as she was coming back, irked that he seemed to be running as if he had all the time in the world. When she got close to him, he took out something from his pouch and held it in front of her eyes so she could see before tossing it behind her. Unable to comprehend her own actions, she whirled around to fetch the shiny object he had thrown. It had fallen on the dry grass at the edge of the track and picking it up, she noticed it was a golden apple, perfectly smooth, with a stem and leaves that had beautiful and intricate engravings on them. She was so immersed in the apple that she forgot about the race until she heard the crowd cheer. Looking over, Yunho had rounded the first turn and was now coming towards her. She felt disoriented for a second, but eventually got back on the track, running with the apple in her hand, although its weight served only to slow her down.

Just as she was rounding the second turn, she saw another golden apple being rolled in front of her, this time rolling off the track at a greater distance. Once again, she went in pursuit of it, forgetting about the race as she chased after it. This time it was slighty bigger and heavier than the last one, but she was determined to keep it. She stood there, admiring its beauty until the cheers of the crowd snapped her back to reality. She was shocked when she saw Yunho round the last turn.

"Oh no!"

With the apples in her hand, she sprinted forward with all her ability, catching up to him in mere seconds. She was right behind him about to pass him until he looked back at her, flashing a third and even larger golden apple in his hand. Raising it up, he let the sun shine on it before tossing it behind him with incredible force. Y/N backtracked and chased after it. She didn't know what it was that made her go for it, but she just had to have it. She struggled to cram them all into her hands, but she refused to let go of them. She gasped when she saw that Yunho was a few feet away from the finish line. She sped up, apples in hand, sure that even with the added weight and time lost she could beat him, no one was faster than her and no one had beaten her.

She was so close, a hands length away from him when the crowd erupted in thunderous applause and screaming. Y/N looked around in shock as Milos and many of the other nobles began surrounding Yunho, congratulating his victory.

"I.....lost?"

Y/N couldn't comprehend it. How on earth did she just lose? And to someone like Yunho? She was so immersed in her thoughts that she didn't notice he had come up behind her until he swiftly turned her around and kissed her in front of everyone. She was so stunned that she had no time to push him off. When he pulled back, he had the brightest and happiest grin plastered all over.

"My beautiful bride." He cooed at her.

She had so many questions for him but unfortunately she couldn't ask him as her father quickly made his way to them, happily announcing Yunho victorious and declaring that preparations for their wedding would begin immediately. The crowd began to celebrate, happy at the thought of the new royal couple forming and praising all the gods in Olympus.

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

It wasn't until later that night that Y/N finally had time to go see Yunho, who was wandering around in the orchards. She came to him, the golden apples on a small pouch.

"I believe these belong to you."

Y/N slumped them back in his hands, Yunho letting out a soft "oof!" at their weight.

"Actually...they're not mine."

"Either way.....you cheated." She accused him.

"It can't be counted as cheating if it complies with a God's wishes." He counteracted.

"What?" Y/N raised an eyebrow.

Smirking, Yunho picked up one of the golden apples.

"These....are golden apples from Aphrodite's golden tree that grows in her garden."

Y/N widened her eyes at his revelation, making Yunho snicker at her reaction.

"She gave them to me after I sacrificed to her last night. She gave me instructions on how to use them so I'd win the race. No one, not even the prized runner in all Arcadia, could resist their magic."

Her mouth dropped wide open at his explanation.

"You see? They were all sacrificing to the wrong deities." He poked her nose.

Y/N huffed and crossed her arms as she mumbled.

"I still say you cheated."

Yunho laughed slightly at her embittered state.

"Come now my darling Y/N. Don't be so cross with me. Can you really blame me for risking my life just to be able to spend the rest of my life next to you?"

He tilted her chin up, looking into her eyes that captivated and bewitched him more and more as he stared at them.

"Aren't you.....aren't you at least happy to marry me?"

Y/N sighed softly.

"The conditions of the race were clear."

Yunho's hand dropped to his side in clear disappointment of her answer.

"I don't want you to marry me because you have to. I want you to marry me because you love me like I love you. I offer you my heart, soul, all of me and vow to love you with my last breath for as long as we remain on this earth."

Y/N clasped a hand over her mouth when Yunho got on his knees and looked at her with such adoration and love.

"Forget the race and forget about the conditions. That doesn't matter anymore. If you don't want it, I'll happily release you from that condition......but at least allow me to try it my way."

Reaching for one of her hands, he grasped it tightly with both of his hands which were trembling slightly.

"I love you Y/N. I love you with every drop of blood that runs in my body. And nothing would make me happier than to have you accept my love and accept to my wife from this night forward."

He gulped as soon as he finished the words, waiting impatiently for her answer, tears building up inside him as he feared her rejection. Y/N was already crying, overwhelmed by her emotions and the intensity of the feelings she had for him. But then she thought about living the rest of her life without him and that was even more terrifying to her.

"Yunho......I love you..."

His gaze that was on the floor suddenly shot up when he finally heard her say those words. Through teary eyes, she smiled at him.

"And I would love for nothing more than to become your wife."

Before her sentence was finished, he was already on his feet, picking her up and spinning her around as his lips began peppering kisses all over her face. Tears of happiness streamed down his face as he thanked Aphrodite and all the other gods for blessing him in such a way.

"You see? It was worth it in the end. I don't regret risking my life......and I'd happily do it again if it means I win you..."

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

[robininthelabyrinth]

What if instead of being his dad Wen Ruohan was his grandfather. And one of his sons had sizhui.

also on ao3 because long

Nie Mingjue staggered a little after he stormed off, the adrenaline rush of fury – at Meng Yao’s betrayal, his many betrayals, at Lan Xichen for accepting Meng Yao’s explanations at face value, at himself for not being able to do what he probably should – all fading away into exhaustion and pain.

It was at that point that he acknowledged that, in his anger, he had probably made a mistake by storming off in the first place – even with Baxia in hand, even with Wen Ruohan finally dead, Nie Mingjue really shouldn’t walking around alone in the Sun Palace.

He was injured, and heavily so; any Wen that wanted could probably take him down. A strong wind could probably take him down.

Still, it wasn’t as if his pride would permit him to go back and ask Lan Xichen to leave Meng Yao’s side for long enough to notice that a man he’d called friend for over a decade had been rather brutally tortured for several days and could very much use some medical assistance - apparently, tending to the injuries to Meng Yao’s ego after Nie Mingjue had shouted at him about the fact that he’d murdered people was more important.

So Nie Mingjue kept on going, lifting his sleeve to try to wipe the blood out of his eyes.

It didn’t work very well, mostly because there wasn’t much space left on his sleeve that wasn’t already covered in blood, and it only ended up making it worse.

On a whim, he turned towards the corridor where he knew from experience years before that the Wen clan’s rooms were located, thinking only that he might be able to find a sheet or some spare clothing to use to wipe his face clean.

He found something different.

The Wen cultivator was only a boy, around the same age as Nie Huaisang; his knees shook and his eyes were white all around the edges in his terror. The colors of his robes suggested he was surnamed Wen but of low status, and while there was a sword at his belt, it looked as fresh and unused as Nie Huaisang’s saber.

Instead of wielding it, he was clutching a small child, a year or two old at most, to his chest.

Nie Mingjue stared, and the boy stared back.

“These are the rooms for the main family,” Nie Mingjue said after a moment of silence, and the boy blanched, inadvertently confirming his suspicions. “Whose child is that?”

“Please don’t kill us,” the boy said, lip quivering. “Or don’t – just don’t kill him. A-Yuan didn’t do anything.”

“Whose child is that?” Nie Mingjue repeated. “Wen Xu’s?”

He couldn’t imagine it being Wen Chao’s, though he supposed it was theoretically possible.

The boy nodded reluctantly. “I wasn’t planning on telling him anything about that,” he offered. “He wouldn’t need to know…”

“That I killed his father?” Nie Mingjue asked, arching his eyebrows, then shook his head, dismissing the entire thing. If a child grew up and wanted revenge for his father, he of all people wouldn’t stop him from trying no matter how little Wen Xu deserved the honor; he could deal with the problem whenever it arose. “I’m not going to kill you. Either of you – what’s your name?”

“Wen Ning – ah, Qionglin. You’re not going to..?”

Nie Mingjue nodded at the sword at his waist. “Tell me, Wen Qionglin. Have you ever used that?”

“Uh, I fly sometimes? Not well, though,” Wen Ning said, looking confused. “What does – oh.”

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes, feeling like the point had been made.

Wen Ning clearly did not agree, still looking lost and not a little terrified.

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue clarified dryly. “I am not going to kill you. There’s no battle happening right now, so killing you would be the same as killing a civilian, and unlike your sect, we don’t do that. Or anything else, for that matter.”

“Anything else?”

“Wen Xu had neither a wife nor a concubine,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’m making an assumption, but given the child’s age, the timing…and the fact that that child has the look of a Lan.”

Wen Ning winced again and bowed his head. “His mother was taken against her will from the Cloud Recesses after Wen Xu burned it,” he confirmed in a quiet voice. “She – she committed suicide, not long after the birth.”

Nie Mingjue sighed. He’d been right, then; this child was one of the many remnants of war. 

He thought, for a moment, of calling Lan Xichen over to tell him that he had a cousin lingering here. Surnamed Wen, of course, and that would be a hard burden for the child to bear growing up, but the child was still Lan blood; Lan Xichen would take him back to Gusu in a heartbeat.

Of course, Lan Xichen was still with Meng Yao – calling one would bring the other. Meng Yao, who had just killed Nie cultivators that Nie Mingjue had known his whole life and blamed him for not understanding why he just had to do it, even though he knew Wen Ruohan would be dead soon, and Lan Xichen, who defended him without a second thought, without giving a chance for Nie Mingjue to explain his grievances, without trusting him to have a reason for his anger…

Meng Yao, who had sent them letters with information – sent Lan Xichen letters with information.

The same information that had led Nie Mingjue into the trap at Yangquan, which had led him to the Sun Palace, where Wen Ruohan couldn’t wait to see him kneeling before his throne, where Meng Yao had used that moment of inattention, focused on Nie Mingjue’s pain, to stab the man in the back –

Where Lan Xichen had come so conveniently quickly after the death was accomplished.

Had Lan Xichen known what Meng Yao was planning? Had he known what he was sending Nie Mingjue into?

Had he known and decided not to tell him?

(Nie Mingjue would have gone willingly, if they’d told him. Being captured as nothing, the torture was nothing, he would bear it all a thousand times over if it meant that he would see Wen Ruohan’s death. But he would have only taken volunteers with him, men prepared to accept death, and not – not as it was.)

For what might be the first time in his life, Nie Mingjue felt a momentary pang of distrust in Lan Xichen’s judgment.

“If you find yourself in need of help with the child, come to my Nie sect,” he finally said, a compromise with himself. He’d normally offer a token of some sort, but he didn’t have any on him; they had all been taken away long ago. “You’re both surnamed Wen, so you’ll probably end up in a prisoner of war camp at first, and then get resettled, but if it ends up being too hard, you can tell them to ask for me…and if I’m not around for whatever reason, ask for Lan Wangji. He’s reasonable and righteous, as well as discreet. He won’t turn you down.”

Wen Ning nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind, Sect Leader. Thank you.”

Nie Mingjue waved a hand at him, nose wrinkling as he felt the blood start dripping down his forehead again. “You should leave first. Get far away from here, before anyone else makes the connection I did.”

Wen Ning began to go, then hesitated. “Do you need medical assistance, Sect Leader Nie? I know a little…”

“I’ve been in Wen Ruohan’s custody since Yangquan,” Nie Mingjue said, and Wen Ning blanched; at least he realized what that meant, even if, somehow, Lan Xichen didn’t. “‘A little’ isn’t going to help.”

“You probably shouldn’t be walking around if you’ve got broken bones,” Wen Ning said anxiously. “Or burns. Or deep cuts. Or, uh –”

“Wen Qionglin.”

“…yes?”

“Take the child and go.”

-

Eventually Lan Xichen had found him, furious at the apparently belated realization that Nie Mingjue had not gone straight back to his camp for medical help – as if Nie Mingjue would know where their camp was, given that he hadn’t been told anything – but the evidence of his concern helped ease Nie Mingjue’s fears.

He was aware it probably shouldn’t – he still believed there was no reason for those Nie cultivators to die, believed that Meng Yao could have offered to send them away to the Fire Palace the way he had done later when he wanted to preserve Nie Mingjue’s life – but he couldn’t help himself. Between his temper, his position, and his reticent personality, he had many admirers but almost no close friends, and so he treasured the ones he had like gold. The thought of breaking with Lan Xichen left ashes in his mouth.

In fact, if one looked at it a certain way, Lan Xichen might be the only friend he had left – he’d had others, growing up, but they’d become distant after he became Sect Leader, the impossible barrier between them, and even more distant once he’d become war leader, responsible for their lives and deaths. He’d once thought he’d had another true friend in Meng Yao, but that was before he realized how many of their interactions had been staged with a deliberate goal in mind.

Before he realized that Meng Yao had never thought of him as anything other than a stepping stone.

And now Lan Xichen wanted them to become sworn brothers.

Nie Mingjue had been repulsed by the idea when he’d first broached it, only a day or two after the events in the Sun Palace. Becoming Lan Xichen’s sworn brother was nothing, but Meng Yao…? Before, maybe, but now…?

“A-Yao really did think he was doing the right thing,” Lan Xichen said, his eyes full of sincerity, and Nie Mingjue wondered when it’d become ‘A-Yao’. Lan Xichen didn’t even refer to Lan Wangji with such a term, though that might be more due to Lan Wangji being such a stickler for etiquette. “I know you think that he didn’t have to kill them, but he was the one who’d been there so long, who knew Wen Ruohan’s thinking – he couldn’t give up the opportunity we’d created at so much cost.”

The opportunity you created with my flesh and bones, Nie Mingjue wanted to say, but didn’t. He would have agreed if they’d ask, and surely that was the same as having agreed, wasn’t it? It would be petty to hold it against them.

It would be petty to continue feeling hurt. 

“And his attack on me at Langya?” he asked, his arms crossed. “After having engaged in the premeditated murder of one of his own superiors?”

“It’s more complicated than just that,” Lan Xichen said. “There were reasons – you can’t look at things as just black and white, Mingjue-xiong.”

Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure how planning to stab your own fellow soldiers in the back in a way designed to disguise their deaths as enemy casualties didn’t fall pretty firmly into the “unmitigated black” category. 

Oh, sure, Meng Yao had reasons, he always had reasons! But even if there was abuse, Meng Yao had had other options – if no one at Langya would list, he could have written a letter to Nie Mingjue himself to lay out his grievances; Nie MIngjue had already been acting as the overall commander of the war by then, and even Jin Guangshan’s thick face, pretending he didn’t know who Meng Yao was or that he’d never seen any letter, wouldn’t stand up to a direct conversation.

There were other things Meng Yao could have done, and he pointed them out to Lan Xichen.

“That’s all the more reason you should swear brotherhood with the two of us,” Lan Xichen said, and he was in earnest; he had always been so very earnest. “As the eldest, you would have the opportunity to help teach A-Yao how to walk on the right path, even when he feels he’s trapped. You were such good friends with him in the past – you could be friends again!”

It sounded more like responsibility than opportunity, but in the end Nie Mingjue really had liked Meng Yao once, really had had faith in him, and maybe Lan Xichen was right; maybe there was a good man under there, twisted only by desperate circumstances.

So he did it, gave his good name to a man he wasn’t sure he could trust, and that was just another thing on top of everything else he had to do: there was a war to finish, bodies to bury, the Unclean Realm to rebuild, politics to manage…it was all a mess, and one he had to tackle alone.

It wasn’t until the celebration at Phoenix Mountain that he finally had a chance to put down his burdens, even if only for a little while.

“Meng Yao,” he said, because the name Jin Guangyao felt more like an insult on his tongue. “Can you find someone for me?”

Lan Xichen had asked him to think of things he could ask Meng Yao to do, insisting that it would help mend their relationship for Meng Yao to feel wanted rather than merely scolded.

“Find someone?” Jin Guangyao echoed, turning to look at him. “Of course, da-ge. You need only ask. I’m only surprised – you don’t often ask about people in specific.”

Nie Mingjue supposed that was true.

“You’re helping with the resettlement of the Wen civilians, aren’t you?” he asked. 

The Jin sect had volunteered for the work, and it made sense: they were the wealthiest sect, capable of buying up land for the Wens to live on and paying for the wages of the men it would take to keep an eye on them until they could feel certain that they weren’t planning rebellion. It would be good for the Wen civilians to have some land where they could farm, an honest life they could lead, and it was probably better for them to live nearer to the Jin sect, which had suffered much less in the war, than risk anger elsewhere. 

“One of them is named Wen Qionglin,” he continued when Jin Guangyao nodded. “Skinny, like you, but taller – maybe half a head. Big eyes.”

“He must be a rare man indeed for da-ge to notice his eyes,” Jin Guangyao teased, though there was some expression Nie Mingjue didn’t recognize in his eyes. It was almost dark, something possessive and angry, but that didn’t make any sense. Perhaps he was only still irritated at how badly his first major event for the Jin sect had gone.

Nie Mingjue had only mentioned the eyes because at the time it’d seemed as if they were wide enough to take up half of his face, the boy as skittish as a rabbit; he shrugged, not wanting to talk about it too much. He’d made a decision based on pain and anger, and he still didn’t know if it had been the right one.  

“If you can find him for me, let me know where he is,” he said. “If you can’t, you can’t. It’s fine - I have other places I can look.”

-

In the end it hadn’t been Jin Guangyao who had found Wen Ning, but Wei Wuxian.

Nie Mingjue only heard about the whole disaster much later on – he’d assumed from Jin Guangyao’s silence that the boy had somehow managed to evade the Jin’s resettlement efforts and had turned to checking elsewhere.

He hadn’t been expecting to find him again as Wei Wuxian’s Ghost General.

That had been a shock, as had finding out about the boy’s identity – 

“He’s Wen Qing’s brother,” Jin Guangyao told him, later. “She ran a Supervisory Office in Yiling, caring for prisoners to make sure they stayed alive pending interrogation – torture, really. He assisted her…did you really think he was just a civilian, da-ge? You really shouldn’t let yourself be so easily deceived by an innocent smile.” 

– but in the end Nie Mingjue decided that it was still his responsibility to find out what had happened to the little Lan boy.

He went to Yiling.

There was a barrier at the bottom of the Burial Mounds that Nie Mingjue lightly touched with his saber – not enough to actually destroy it, which would cause a backlash, but enough to make the person who put it into place notice. It was little more than a means of knocking, really, but Wei Wuxian stormed down the mountain in an offended fury.

Perhaps Nie Mingjue had come on a bad day.

“You’re not welcome here,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’m not handing over the Stygian Tiger Seal, or the Wens – I want to be left alone.”

“I only –”

“I’ve already separated from the Jiang sect and been condemned by the entire cultivation world; what more do you want?! I’ve had enough. Wen Ning, make sure he leaves.” With that, he turned on his heel and went right back up the mountain, leaving Nie Mingjue blinking.

Wen Ning shuffled forward. His face was flat, seeming almost cruel in its indifference, but Nie Mingjue suspected that was just the stiffness of death. “He won’t come back down,” he said.

“That’s fine,” Nie Mingjue said, still somewhat taken aback by the sheer level of rudeness. “I came here to speak to you, anyway.”

Wen Ning blinked. “…me?”

“I wanted to check up on you,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling abruptly very awkward – Wen Ning had died, after all, and in bad enough circumstances that he’d risen up again as a fierce corpse. He couldn’t even be sure that the fierce corpse, however conscious, was still the Wen Ning he’d been before he died; some rumors suggested it was something else moving the body, some tool or dreadful summons of Wei Wuxian’s. “And the child.”

There was a moment of silence, when Nie Mingjue began to wonder as well, but finally Wen Ning stirred and spoke again.

“…he’s doing all right,” he said, and there was a small smile on his face. “Wei-gongzi took A-Yuan down the mountain to the village recently and he got a whole bunch of toys; he’s been very happy.”

“I’m glad,” Nie Mingjue said, and felt rather stiff himself. “I should have done more for him, the first time we met. I regretted it later, but couldn’t find you.”

“You looked?”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “When I was at the Phoenix Mountain hunt a few months back, I asked my sworn brother to check the Jin resettlement program, as he helps organize it,” he said. “He must have overlooked you somehow – I told him to look for Wen Qionglin; perhaps that was the issue.”

It didn’t seem especially likely, since Jin Guangyao had been able to find out about Wen Ning’s past, but he couldn’t think of any other reason why the normally efficient man would make such an oversight.  

Wen Ning was quiet for a long moment, a strange expression on his face. “What are your plans now, Sect Leader Nie?”

Nie Mingjue frowned. “What do you mean?”

“About A-Yuan. His parentage…”

“You said he was fine and happy,” Nie Mingjue pointed out, realizing that Wen Ning was probably worried that he’d insist on the boy returning to the Cloud Recesses. “I’m not…Lan Xichen is very busy with his own concerns, anyway, and if the child is happy, then nothing need change. And Wei-gongzi’s hysterics aside, Yiling is fairly well protected by him at the moment, so this is probably the safest place for him to be.”

The Jins were furious about what had happened; he wouldn’t trust the Wens with them right now. In fact…

“If the Jin sect start making trouble, my earlier offer to care for him is still valid,” he said, and this time he did have a token at his waist that he was able to offer up. “Given your actions during the war, it can no longer extend to you as well – assuming you can even leave Wei-gongzi’s side, anyway.”

“Who told you what I did during the war?” Wen Ning asked. “That sworn brother of yours again? Lianfeng-zun?”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “As I said, I asked him to look for you; he found out in passing about what was done under your sister’s command. I can’t offer succor to someone who helped torture my Nie cultivators, even in the guise of offering medical aid; there would need to be a trial, and passions are still inflamed. Better that you stay here.” There didn’t seem to be anything more to say: he’d found out what he’d wanted. “I’ll take my leave, then.”

Wen Ning slowly nodded. “Come back again sometime, Sect Leader Nie,” he requested, and even seemed sincere about it. “And – stay safe.”

It was a strange farewell, but Nie Mingjue supposed that the remnants of the Wen sect – and a fierce corpse, no less – would be more concerned than most about security and well-being.

-

“Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning said, sitting on the floor next to Wei Wuxian’s working bench in the cave. “I have a question.”

“Is this about my sister’s wedding again? I’ve already accepted that I can’t go. You don’t have to keep worrying.”

“Not about that,” Wen Ning said. “Something else.” He hesitated. “I have a friend –”

Wei Wuxian dropped the half-finished compass of evil onto the workbench with a thunk and spun around to look at Wen Ning with a grin. “You have a friend? Go on.”

Wen Ning stared at him, bewildered.

“Everyone knows that asking for advice on behalf of a friend means asking for it for yourself!” Wei Wuxian sai, beaming. “Go on, tell me – do you like someone? Or is it something to do with your body –”

“It really is about a friend!” Wen Ning wailed, hiding his face behind his hands. “Or, well, not a friend. Someone I know. He’s the one with friends – bad friends.”

“Bad friends? What do you mean?”

Wen Ning peeked between his fingers, but Wei Wuxian appeared to have calmed down a bit from his earlier manic glee.

“I think,” he said, thinking very hard about his words before saying them, “that – this person I know, that he’s being manipulated by one, maybe more than one, of his friends. I don’t know why, but…I don’t know. It gives me a weird feeling. Like something bad is going to happen. And I don’t know if I should tell him or if that would only make things worse or…I don’t know.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, finally looking serious. “Is there a chance that we can drop the ambiguity?” he asked. “I can help better if I know who the people you’re talking about are.”

“It’s a bit sensitive. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble…”

Wei Wuxian looked around the cave pointedly. “I’m pretty sure we’ve offended everyone we could possibly offend already, Wen Ning.”

“…I think Chifeng-zun shouldn’t have sworn brotherhood with Lianfeng-zun and Zewu-jun,” Wen Ning said in a rush.

“I retract my previous statement,” Wei Wuxian said weakly. “What? How do you even – you consider Chifeng-zun a friend?”

“He was very nice the first time we met,” Wen Ning said.

“Chifeng-zun? Nice?”

Wen Ning shrugged.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian said. “Okay. This is fine. You did in fact find the only three people in the cultivation world that I haven’t crossed yet, but – it’s fine. Okay. Let’s deal with this. What do you mean he’s being manipulated? And what’s wrong with Lan Xichen? He’s the real nice one.”

“I’m not saying he isn’t! It’s Lianfeng-zun that’s the problem, I think.”

“I haven’t heard anything bad about him, other than the fact that he runs whenever Chifeng-zun appears,” Wei Wuxian said. “But then again, rumor doesn’t get you very far, or else we’d be living in a palace of blood and gore right now – emphasis on palace. It’d probably have better washroom facilities than we have.” He sighed and shook his head. “What makes you say what you’re saying?”

“I’m not sure…it’s probably nothing. They didn’t pay any attention to Chifeng-zun when he’d been tortured, letting him walk around where he could’ve been killed, and then they swore brotherhood before his wounds had even scabbed over, and I swear they must have pushed him into it, what with the way he treats Lianfeng-zun...Anyway, then there’s everything that’s been happening with Lianfeng-zun and me - ”

“…you know what, let’s focus to that,” Wei Wuxian said, holding his head as if it hurt. “What has Lianfeng-zun to do with you?”

“Chifeng-zun asked him to look for me, a few months ago, and he deliberately didn’t tell him where I was,” Wen Ning said. “And he also told him a bunch of stuff about what I did during the war that’s really not true – he thought I was involved in torturing people, and I wasn’t, I swear! – and anyway, I don’t know why he’d do that. Sworn brothers shouldn’t lie to each other, should they?”

“Generally speaking, no,” Wei Wuxian said. “Okay, yes, that’s all a bit suspicious; that bit with him exaggerating what you did during the war sure sounds like he’s abusing Chifeng-zun’s trust to isolate us even more. But what’s wrong with Lan Xichen? He’s Lan Zhan’s older brother – I like him.”

Wen Ning nibbled on his lower lip. “It’s not what he did,” he said slowly. “It’s only…okay, let me tell you a story. There was an uncle I liked once. He’d been a guest cultivator, but he married one of my cousins, and he was really nice to me; I used to go over to see him a few times a week. And then one day my sister told me I couldn’t talk to him anymore because he was gone: she’d had him ejected from the sect because she’d found out that he beat his wife.”

Wei Wuxian nodded.

“I didn’t believe it at first,” Wen Ning said. “He was always really nice to me, you know? He’d never raised a hand or behaved badly where I could see. A bunch of other people hadn’t believed it, either, for the same reasons. He behaved well, he had a good reputation, he smiled…my cousin tried to kill herself. That’s how my sister found out, and she believed her. And she was right, too.”

“Lan Xichen is as nice in private as he is in public, though.”

“No, you don’t understand – I don’t think he’s the guest cultivator in the story. I think he’s me. Me and all the other ones that refused to believe what was going on even if we saw the signs, just because we liked him so much. He wouldn’t have gotten away with it for as long as he did if we all hadn’t been willing to defend him.”

“So you think Lianfeng-zun is the one that’s up to something in secret,” Wei Wuxian said slowly, fingers drumming on his leg. “And Lan Xichen is acting, however inadvertently, as his shield…Chifeng-zun would definitely believe whatever Lan Xichen told him. That’s probably how he got captured in Yangquan to begin with, actually; that makes a lot of sense. But what benefit would there be to Lianfeng-zun to manipulating Chifeng-zun into hating you? Hating us?” 

He frowned. “Do you think the Jin sect is planning on trying something against us here at Yiling, and Lianfeng-zun is trying to get Chifeng-zun on board? I know the Jin sect wants my Stygian Tiger Seal, while the Nie sect has never much cared about it…this could be serious.”

Wen Ning nodded.

“One question, though. You said he deliberately knew where you were and didn’t tell him – are you sure about that? That’s the key point, at least to me: getting your past in the war wrong, that could be a mistake, and we don’t know if there was some sort of earlier agreement about what happened in the Sun Palace. How do you know Lianfeng-zun knew where you were?”

“He visited,” Wen Ning said, and looked down at his hands, which were clenched so hard that the knuckles were white. “He looked right at me while he was talking to some of the guards. And…”

He trailed off.

“And?”

“And then I died, Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning said solemnly. “Less than a day later, the guards he was talking to killed me.”

-

“Not that I’m not always happy to see you, Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said, ignoring the way that he could feel his sect elders a few rooms over bursting into flame in sheer rage without ever realizing why, and also the way his elder brother was going to break both his legs if he ever found out that this was what Nie Huaisang was doing with the role of acting Sect Leader in his absence, “but…why are you here again?”

“To save your brother!” Wei Wuxian said with a grin. “Also possibly to get your thoughts on what a good wedding gift for my sister would be. I can’t decide whether to go with something fancy, heartfelt, or crude.”

“Don’t go with fancy, the Jin sect has all the fancy they need for a lifetime,” Nie Huaisang said at once, because that much he could answer. “And – wait, what was that about saving my brother?”

“Also, I may need to marry Lan Zhan in order to finalize an adoption,” Wei Wuxian said thoughtfully, as if he wasn’t blowing up explosives in Nie Huaisang’s brain with every word. “He doesn’t know about it yet. Do you think you can find someone who can officiate?”

“My brother can do it, he’s technically an elder in the Lan sect by virtue of being sworn brothers with their sect leader,” Nie Huaisang said, mouth moving on automatic. “And – what? Marriage? Adoption? Not know about – also, can we go back to the bit about saving my brother?”

[bagadew]

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Great Departure (Part 2)

Last Time: I (Ryunosuke) was falsely accused of murdering John Watson Wilson, because the government’s trying to avoid an international incident and I am an expendable mug. Fortunately our best friend Kazuma of the fluttering headband stepped in to save us, but unfortunately Ryunosuke is a trusting idiot who decided to take his own defense because he didn’t want to jeopardize Kazuma’s studding abroad. In a breach of conduct for the first case in an Ace Attorney game there were multiple witnesses, none of whom committed the crime. Finally we managed to establish the presence of a woman who’s presence had been erased because she was English and the Japanese government didn’t want to cause an international incident, fortunately everyone decided fuck the government actually, and we’re bringing her in!

(Just a note before we start that because the game’s so new and I’m playing on my switch, my screenshots have really dropped in quality today (and probably for the foreseeable future). That’s also why there are less of them this time round.)

I would like to start off by reminding everyone that Kazuma’s the best.

I’m not exactly sure when I became desperate for Kazuma’s approval, but apparently I am.

If only we had ballistics - the fingerprints of the gun

Professor Mikotoba! The most innocent of men (probably)

Ryunosuke this man views us as chopped liver compared to Kazuma...

... Kazuma, Ryunosuke views himself as chopped liver compared to you...

Ok, so Professor Mikotoba was the one who invited Dr Watson Wilson over from England, and he’s sent Pink Lady to get “something we may need” from the university.

She spoke!

Why do I feel like an absolute shitstorm is heading our way...

‘I’ll save the thank-yous’ for after the trial’ Kazuma for no reason you have to stay handcuffed to me for the rest of this case and the start of the next one. I’m not having another Mia Fey incident.

Is anyone else getting big Dahlia Hawthorne vibes here?

Listen Hosonaga, I understand (from the fact that you look like this as the grand old age of 29) that life has not been kind to you, but you have to understand that Women, even if they are from England, do not naturally come in that shape. There are about 50 different places Jezaille Brett could have hidden a gun in that outfit.

Oh my god!

My favourite thing about Kazuma is how sometimes he pulls this face:

Ok so Jezaille removed one of the glasses of carbonated water from the scene of the crime, hoping to cover up the fact that she’d been there at all. Unfortunately for her I’m pretty sure that I can see the edge of a glass in the photograph of the victim, so something’s not adding up

Also she just admitted to having a handbag on her, so even if there’s not a gun stuffed inside that swan of hers, she had a way of carrying it out the scene that these idiots will recognise!

Hosonaga here, really choosing to threaten the goodwill he picked up at the end of Part 1.

Also, what’s that mark on the victims wrist? It looks like some sort of buffalo?

Also Hosonaga’s coughing feels really familiar, and while this is Ace Attorney (and therefor there could be a whole load of poison related explanations), I’m starting to wonder if he might have TB?

(For people who don’t know (which is most people) Cystic Fibrosis (what I have) and TB behave in an incredibly similar way, to the point where a lot of the people who had ‘TB’ back then might have actually had CF.)

Oh Ryunosuke...

It’s ok buddy, we’ve still got a new mystery mark and a picture glass I’m now only 80% sure I can see...

Kazuma! Not you too!

It’s so sad, he’s not even fluttering anymore

Kazuma’s now threatening the  Ace Attorney games refusal to contain swear words.

OH SWEET JESUS THAT GAVLE’S MASSIVE!!!

We’re on the right track, Miss Brett is not happy about my pointing out the buffalo burn!

Lunch my ass Miss Brett! This is clearly a ploy to escape!

Oh... I was kind of hoping Pink Lady would come back with whatever the Thing was she was sent to get. And that that would help us out of this mess.

But I guess that’s not happening just yet...

(BTW, have I just been out of the game for a long time, or is this getting really challenging for a first case? I thought the buffalo burn would do it, but apparently not)

Ok Ryunosuke, lets fall back on the old tactic of closely examining everything we possess until we find something that sort of looks like what we’re looking for. In this case a buffalo

HOT DAMN!!!

Post-mortem burn! Post-mortem burn!

I’ve just remembered this country doesn’t do autopsies!

They only go by what the body looked like at the time of death!

So when you’re faced with a man who has a bullet wound in his chest, you’d assume that was the cause of death!

And you wouldn’t CHECK FOR POISON!!!

POISON MEDICAL STUDEN JEZAILLE BRETT WOULD HAVE HAD BOTH EASY ACCESS TO AND KNOWLEDGE OF!!!

THATS WHY SHE REMOVED HIS GLASS!!!

Oh no... she’s smiling... why is she smiling...

Yeah, you and me both Hosonaga

I feel like at this point the two of us have a relationship that goes up and down like a sea-saw.

“Why did you need a translator?” Because she’s been playing this court like a dammed fiddle, next question

And just like that I’m ready to kick Miss Brett into the sun.

Yep, that’s the appropriate face.

She says, like the man who hasn’t been needlessly translating her every word, and who jumped through hoops to remove her from a murder investigation isn’t standing right there.

With every word she says I find myself becoming rapidly more convinced that Satoru Hosonaga didn’t bring Miss Brett to us because it was the right thing to do, but rather because he remembered that she was a Massive Bitch, and decided to give her what was coming to her.

LETS TEAR THIS BITCH TO SHREDS!

I’m both terrified and curious to know how they’re going to one up this lady. We’re only on the first case and she is just so deeply unlikable. I haven’t seethed over a villain like this in ages, and she’s only the first one.

I’d also like to take this opportunity to apologies to one Dahlia Hawthorne, you may have been a manipulative, poisoning, monster Dahlia, but at least you had style.

IT’S TIME!!!

I think it was Hosonaga’s spirit finally snapping next to her.

Yeah, bet you wish you’d been less of an asshole now, huh?

GET HER ASS HOSONAGA!!

Fancy a drink Miss Brett?

Kazuma, you need to do something quick, your position as my favourite is being threatened by the coughing detective who has aged like milk!

I just examined the water bottle incase in had any suspicious markings on it, and when I asked Kazuma what the French on the bottle said he told me to ‘go to France and ask’!

Yeah that’ll do it!

You go Kazuma!

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!

Ok, Pink Lady, we really need you to come in now!

Given how confident she was about the bottle not having poison in it, and the fact that she and the victim both drank from it, I’m going to guess that it was just put straight into the glass Dr Watson Wilson drank from.     Meaning that it’s probably somewhere around the university, either still     in Miss Brett’s handbag, or in a bin somewhere.

I just want to say again what an intense first case this is!

PINK LADY!!!

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Protective Service

John Wick x Reader (with a nickname and last name). Requested (A/n-posting this instead of the series that already completely written and ready to go. Initially a request, at this point, I don’t know by who, but if you’re still out there, I hope you enjoy. Also, it, as you can see, became bigger than it was supposed to. Why can’t I just write a oneshot?)

Masterlist

Warnings- murder, gun violence.

Chapter 1 A Murder, a Memory, a Hiring.

Sighing heavily, Y/n sank further into her impressive, leather upholstered chair, her legs crossed, one hand outstretched, her manicured nails drumming on the mahogany table top. A draining of scotch lingered near a stack of papers in a delicate crystal glass, forgotten. The men lined before her desk seemed nervous, they always did when they were around her; fear and respect went hand in hand when she was around. It was what Y/n had learned from her father, many years before his passing; sometimes, to earn the respect of those beneath you, you have to force it into them, by any means necessary. 

“So,” Y/n pursed her maroon stained lips, “What the hell should I do with you?” When the one with her attention didn’t answer, opting to stand before her like a broken animal, knees shaking and sweating like a pig, Y/n glanced around the room, her eyes passing over four of her most trusted men, “What do you think gentleman? Think he’s any use to us?”

Even they seemed reluctant to answer, desperately avoiding being on her bad side. That was a side one never lived to come back from. “Well?” Her tone was now heavy with annoyance, “Do we tolerate scum?”

Seeming to find some misplaced courage, the man finally spoke up for himself, “Vila,” he pleaded, his frumpy form racked with sobs, deep down, knowing that the end was nigh, and inevitable, “I can serve you. I can…...I can….”

“You can what?” She smirked, “Give me something I need?” Y/n mocked, reaching into her desk drawer, she produced a custom handgun with abstract designs carved about it and gold embellishments emphasizing the beauty of the matte black. Slowly, her lithe fingers worked on loading it, “You know,” Y/n’s words were absent and careless, “Vilas, in Slavic folklore, they’re fairies, extraordinarily beautiful. Do you think I’m beautiful Johan?”

Y/n stood from the chair, letting it roll back a little and as she walked around to the other side of the table, she was sure to make a show of swiping the gun off the top. Her heels thudded softly as she approached him, and her men stepped out of her way, eyeing Johan closely, making sure he didn’t try anything. “Well?”

“I do,” he nodded vigorously, whimpering, as he was shoved down to his knees, his beaten face bloodied and sweaty, “So beautiful,” in an attempt to earn her forgiveness he planted his hands on the floor at her feet, “Please, please Vila, it was mistake, it won’t happen again.”

“You’re right,” she smiled slyly, “Do you do what happens when someone betrays a Vila?” Sighing as she awaited his answer, Y/n brushed some hair out of her face with the tip of her red polished nail. Shifting her weight from her left leg to her right, “Answer me!” Her snarl was venomous and her henchmen jumped; it was rare for her to lose control of her anger like that. Y/n got angry, of course, she was only human, but she had enough self control to maintain her cool demeanor. Always emanating danger but never out rightly so.

When Johan still couldn’t muster up the response, she grabbed him by the hair, violently yanking his head up, “Let me tell you, when scum like you betrays the hand that has given them so much, it dies.” Letting him go, Y/n clenched her jaw, snapping for two men to hold him in place, “I’ve had enough of this bullshit,” she managed, pressing the gun to his head, and before he could even beg again, the sound of the shot being fired resounded, bouncing off the walls of her office. Blood splattered, droplets clinging to her pristine white blouse while some flew to her face, though most of it was on her hands.

“Great,” Y/n rolled her eyes when they dropped the limp body, the heavy thump being followed by blood pooling on her rug. “What a fucking mess,” she huffed, tossing the gun to the table for cleaning later, taking the handkerchief offered by a man just about ten years her senior, Donavan, he was a loyal one, her right hand when she needed one, and quite the treat to look at, among other things.

Tossing the kerchief back to Donavan not caring if he caught it or not, Y/n was already walking out of the room, sure to evade the saturated parts of the rug, her heels thumping softly when she was out in the hallway, “Call clean up, and get a replacement for that rug before I’m back this evening.”

“Yes ma’am,” Donavan was just a couple paces behind her, already getting out his phone to make arrangements. When he slipped the cell back into his breast pocket, they were already descending a spiral staircase that led down to an open floor, where most of the business took place; packing for exports, accounts in another corner and stocks kept in the back. All in all, the nondescript warehouse on Staten Island was where Y/n spent the majority of her day, running the empire that had been built long before there was even an inkling of her conception. It was the base and brain of operations, where her office was and where the dirty work happened. 

Typically, upon her arrival at around nine am, Y/n didn’t didn’t leave the lot until late in the evening, but that day, in addition to her very busy morning, she had a meeting with the High Table, her first one since being inaugurated. Her father would be proud.

But Y/n?

She was downright terrified.

Not that she would admit it. Y/n wasn’t the kind of person who admitted to fear. Or any sort of human emotion, she preferred to keep those around her guessing, that way they’d be sure to fear her, and by consequence submit to her rule. At least, that was what she’d told herself.

Just as they stepped outside, Donavan opened up an umbrella for her, guarding Y/n from the slight drizzle that overcast New York offered. Awaiting her was a black Rolls-Royce, it’s sleek coat shining even in the dimness of the day while the heavily tinted bullet-proof windows were spotless. Another hand held the back door open, and as Y/n slipped into the vehicle, Donavan handed her a thick long coat and large designer handbag;  peeking out of the opened top was a fresh blouse, a charcoal colored, silk one. Without as much as a word to part them, he closed her door, letting the car pull off.

The minute they were out of the lot, she got to work on her blouse, quickly untucking it from her skirt, pulling it over her head and casting it aside before hastily pulling out the clean one, shrugging on the cool material. The inside of the blouse was rough against her skin and Y/n’s nimble fingers made short work of the mimicked crystal buttons and when she was finished, she haphazardly tucked it into her black pencil skirt and pulled on her coat. Afterwards, she ran a corrective comb through her tresses and freshened her lipstick. 

She was finished by the time her driver was taking her over the Verrazano-Narrows, the Continental wasn’t too far off there, right in the thick of the city and Y/n opted to occupy the rest of her drive with a drink from the limited selection.

The burning twinge of the whiskey was paired with a smoky note, both pleasantly welcome, cooling Y/n’s nerves. Finally, in the quiet security of the car, she could think. Think about what she’d gotten herself into. Taking up the seat at the High Table wasn’t a decision that she’d made lightly, Y/n knew what came with it; with power came enemies, and her line of work had already fitted her with many. There were those who didn’t approve of her induction, older heads who felt that Y/n was too young to be held in such esteem, she couldn’t have known much, she was nothing more than a daddy’s girl who didn’t have to claw, or fuck, her way to the top. There were even a select few who’s reservations were contained solely in their jealousy too; one twenty something shouldn’t be afforded that much power when others twice her age were still scurrying for scraps.

However, their opinions on her weren’t what contributed to Y/n’s unease, she never paid much mind to what others thought of her, only the insecure spent time worrying about something as frivolous as public perception, and Y/n was anything but. Optics were the least of Y/n’s problems, her issue was with what people would do to ensure her untimely downfall. There were only so many enemies a girl could kill before starting to seriously worry for her life. Y/n didn’t want to die, no one did, not by a bullet to the head or poison in the rum. But Y/n knew that there were those that would go the lengths, that would do anything to see her gone just so they could snatch up what was rightfully hers.

The troubling thoughts were consuming, and the more her mind worked, the more Y/n felt like she’d just been tossed into the Hudson without a life raft, paddling clumsily just to stay afloat, icy water frosting her insides. Blinking quickly, Y/n downed the rest of her drink, hoping to swallow the feeling and return it to where it belonged; deep down for none, herself included, to find. Fear meant that something had power over you, and she couldn’t be the one without control. She was in control.

Before Y/n could think to pour herself another, the car was stopping in front of the Continental, where the meeting was being held. A person, who’s face she didn’t care to commit, held the door open for her and Y/n walked straight past him without as much as a thanks. Eyes followed her as she strode towards the concierge’s station, some adoring, other’s with glares as sharp as daggers. No doubt, they all knew who she was, the only Romanov daughter; a pampered princess turned ruthless bitch. It was impossible to be a working fraction of the criminal underbelly of New York and not know her. But whatever they thought they knew; it wasn’t nearly enough.

Her expensive perfume carried in the air like a siren song, calling attention from all around, making hotel staff temporarily stop their jobs and guests raise their heads and hang their jaws. Upon reaching the desk, Y/n drummed her fingers on the cool surface. That was one thing everyone knew about her; impatience ran in her veins; no one made a Romanov wait. “Charon,” Y/n purred.

“Miss Romanov,” his professional politeness was one she was used to, Y/n wouldn’t really call him a friend, but he was certainly an acquaintance that she didn’t mind sharing drinks with, “How do you do?”

“Delightful,” she chirped, and, as always, it was a scramble to figure out if the word was meant in sarcasm or not, “You?”

“No complaints yet,” he nodded astutely, “I assume you’re here for the meeting?”

“I am,” Y/n confirmed, shifting her weight from on leg to the other. Absently, as Charon hit some keys on his computer, she shifted a lock of hair away from her face, vaguely aware that someone had come to stand a couple feet behind her. As much as Y/n wanted to know who it was, she didn’t dare look back, instead straightening her back and awaiting service. 

Minutes later, Charon was directing her to where the meeting was being held and bidding her a good afternoon. Before she was out of earshot, he seemed to move on to the next client, with the same friendly disposition, “Hello, Mr. Wick.” The name rang a bell, though, Y/n couldn’t really place it. Not spending too much time on something that didn’t concern her, Y/n pushed the thought away continuing her walk towards the elevator.

The meeting had been just as she’d expected, boring and political. Many might have thought that bloodshed and drugs might have made criminal politics more entertaining than that of the conventional kind, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. It was still dominated by people twice and three times her age, unable to accept the opinions of anyone their junior. Over drinks and stiff banter, most of which could have been likened to sneers and insults directed towards whoever sat opposite them, the Table voted on a couple matters, mainly on who they collectively needed gone and how to keep their connections in law enforcement and various civil arms in check without too much speculation. They’d also traded updates on their personal empires as if it were housekeeping and at the end, they’d set a place for their next biannual meeting, Vienna.

Y/n was among the first to leave the room, and she hadn’t realized that Winston was a close second until he called out to her, “Y/n, dear!” He chuckled, pulling her into a hug.

“Uncle Winston,” she smiled, her first genuine one in months. Winston wasn’t any sort of biological relative, but he was someone that her family had greatly considered, he and her parents had a long history, and after they’d passed, Y/n had remained close to him. Besides her them, he was the only one privileged enough to really know her. “How have you been?”

“Better now that my goddaughter’s paid me a visit. Though, I’d hope that it wouldn’t take a High Table meeting to drag you out here,” his teasing was light and Y/n felt herself relaxing, letting Winston lead her to the lounge, where they slipped into their usual booth, away from the fuss. Without as much as a request, two martinis were placed in front of them.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n smiled lightly, looking down at her beverage, “I’ve just been busy.”

“I know,” Winston hummed, his gaze trained on her, “Trying to rule the world, as usual,” hesitating for a moment before continuing with more regard, “You know that you’ll never be able to do it, right?” He wasn’t talking about ‘ruling the world’ anymore and Y/n knew it, “You can’t just kill away your fears.”

Her shoulders slumped and Y/n brought the glass to her lips, sighing at the taste, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she shook her head.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You think being like him will give you some kind of immunity to the dangerous world we live in. It didn’t do it for him, and it won’t do it for you,” Winston was talking about her father; he’d lived just like she did, running his operation with an iron fist and without and ounce of empathy, thinking it was some kind of wall that would ultimately make him invincible. It was an assumption that couldn’t be further from the truth and the memory of a bloodied Channel carpet and the gurgle of blood filled lungs was enough to send a painful pang to Y/n’s chest, forcing her to take another drag of her drink.

“I’m just saying; I think you need to consider your options,” Winston sighed when Y/n didn’t answer, deciding that he’d have better luck at getting through to her in another way, “You look like Meredith with your hair like that.” Meredith, it was a long time since Y/n had heard her mother’s name. Even before her father died, he’d never had the stomach to utter it, for with the name, were a slew of jerking memories. She had been gone for a long time, long before Y/n could understand what death was, but once in a while, she’d think about her, wonder what her life would be like if she had lived, “You know what she’d have wanted.”

“I barely know her,” Y/n countered, trying to deny the real effect that Winston’s words had. “Look, if it’ll make you feel better, then I’ll think about it, okay?”

Winston smiled triumphantly, “It’ll make you feel better too,” he reached over and patted her hand, it was a fatherly gesture, the kind she found herself missing in quieter moments, “He’s here, if you want to talk to him before you leave.”

Truthfully, Winston was right, having someone to protect her, watching her back would make her feel better. It would be nice knowing that she wouldn’t have to keep looking over her shoulder. Nodding, Y/n agreed, “Sure, the sooner the better, right?”

“Right,” Winston mirrored, “His name is John Wick, and he’s in room 214.”

214

It looked like all the other rooms, though for some reason, that one specifically made her nervous. Maybe it was because she wasn’t used to seeking people out, she was used to them coming to her. She wasn’t used to asking for things either. No, Y/n was the type of woman that got what she wanted, when she wanted it, no questions asked. But still, there she was, standing in front of a hotel room, a little shaken, about to ask for the Boogeyman’s help 

Taking a deep breath, Y/n raised her enclosed fist, hitting the cream wood in three short knocks. It wasn’t long before the door was being pulled open, revealing a well-dressed man with nearly a foot on her height, eyes as dark as whiskey and neatly combed hair just past his ears. His three piece suit was missing its jacket, though Y/n could tell that it was a tailored piece that probably cost a considerable amount.  He was attractive, Y/n didn’t think that any man had ever had that kind of effect on her. The kind that made her breath hitch and her heat speed up. Usually, it was the other way around, she was the one racing hearts. “You must be John Wick,” Y/n had to raise her head to meet his gaze, maintaining her unbothered disposition. 

John continued his hold on the brass knob as his other hand slipped into the pocket of his black slacks, “It depends on who’s asking,” he didn’t seem to be interested in small talk or anything that would cost any more of his precious time. Already, Y/n liked him.

“Why don’t we cut the bullshit?” She moistened her lips, hooking her handbag in the crook of her elbow, “You know who I am, I know who you are, introductions are a waste of time. I have a proposition.”

John eyed her with silent intrigue, the toe of his shoe soundlessly tapping the carpet, “Well?” Reluctantly, he ushered her into the room, pouring them a couple drinks before leading them to a small table in the center of the room. Smoothing her dress as she sat, Y/n discarded her bag on the table, crossing her legs, letting the slim heel of her stiletto gently knock her shin. 

“I need personal security,” there was no point in dancing around it, if she wanted John’s attention, then her best bet was to be straight forward, “And I heard that you’re the best at what you do.”

“You should also know that I’m not a bodyguard,” John countered bluntly. 

Y/n nodded slowly, trying to not let her demeanor melt away just just because he could easily match her stoicism, “I can pay you well. Whatever you’re making on your current job, I can triple it, quadruple it if that’s what you want. And that’ll be you’re monthly salary”

“Not interested,” John brought his glass to his lips, taking a tentative sip of his bourbon, “You have money, you can find someone else.”

“I don’t want someone else,” Y/n dismissed coolly, mirroring John when he took another sip of his drink. By that rate, someone else might have been drunk, but Y/n was known to hold her own when it came to booze, “I want John Wick.”

“Not. Interested,” he repeated and Y/n clenched her jaw, trying not to show the flare in her anger.

Setting her glass down, Y/n scooped up her bag by its short leather strap, she wanted John’s protection, but she wasn’t going to grovel, she would rather die, literally. “Very well,” she stood, casually dusting off her dress. At least she could tell Winston she tried. “Thank you for the drink, Mr. Wick.

Maybe it was the way she said his name, the way “Mister” just seemed to carelessly fall off her plump lips. Maybe it was because she was a pretty little thing or because John could see her fear past the bravado. Whatever it was, it had John changing his mind faster that he could register. Before Y/n was even a few feet off, John was standing again, grabbing her by the forearm, “Wait,” she turned, now standing close enough for him to see her lace clad breasts down her top and smell her perfume mixing with her shampoo. Put together, it was enthralling, and John wondered if she looked like that on purpose; no woman could be that alluring without effort. “Why does a Romanov need protection? And don’t lie to me, I’ll know.”

Y/n raised her head a little accentuating her neck, briefly glancing at John’s grip on her forearm before turning to him again, “Fine. Truthfully,” she exaggerated the word, hoping to downplay her next ones, “I’m scared of dying. I know who I am, and I know that there are those who’d do anything to see me gone, and I’m not ready to end up like my father.” Or worse yet, like her mother. 

John was quiet for a minute, and finally he let her arm go, taking a step back, “I work alone,” he began, “I don’t care who the rest of your team is, you won’t need them. I make all security decisions, and I don’t ask before shooting. Got it?”

Y/n cocked a curious eyebrow, “Got it. We’ll discuss the rest of this arrangement soon. Thank you, Mr. Wick,” Y/n winked, swaying her hips as she walked towards the door, letting herself out. 

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana   @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx  @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea​

[ibijau]

Burn it down AU // on AO3 // extras on AO3

Nie Huaisang doesn't let Lan Wangji know who the man he loved in his youth was and just like that, their fate is changed

(aka the one where nhs and lwj fall for each other instead of pining after men who turned away from them)

warning for self harm

Lan Wangji went to meet his husband, now sect leader Nie, to offer him comfort one last time before returning to the Cloud Recesses, and to gift him a small porcelain bird. He found the other man drunk and clearly depressed, but still appreciative of the present in spite of his state.

“A magpie,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “They’re clever, you know? Mate for life, or so it’s said. Don’t know why anyone would do that, but they do.”

“Hm.”

Lan Wangji sat near his husband, unsure what to do or say to comfort Nie Huaisang when he was so obviously distressed.

“I’ve heard that the Lans too only ever love once,” Nie Huaisang continued, carefully putting away the bird.

“Hm.” It was an old tale, one Lan Wangji had never given much consideration until recent years. He still wasn’t sure how he felt on that matter.

“Do you ever regret that it was Wei Wuxian?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“No,” Lan Wangji replied, the very thought of loving anyone else impossible, repulsing almost. It had always been Wei Wuxian. It would always be Wei Wuxian. To consider anyone else would have felt like a betrayal, like giving in to the voices around him.

“Lucky you,” Nie Huaisang chuckled bitterly, taking another sip of wine. “If I could, I’d choose someone else. Maybe you. At least I’d know where I’d stand if it were you, and I think you wouldn’t be a bad person to love instead of him.”

Lan Wangji frowned. “Huaisang is in love with someone?”

His husband starts laughing, only for it to quickly turn into heavy sobs. Lan Wangji immediately leaned closer to pat his shoulder, as he had done more than once in the past weeks. Nie Huaisang’s tears only doubled in strength. He moved as if he might try to hug Lan Wangji, only to stop himself at the last moment, curling up on himself instead.

“I just want it to stop,” he whined. “I just want things to be good. Nothing has ever been good since the war. I miss the time before, when I didn’t even know I loved him and it was easy! But now I’ve lost all my friends, and I’ve lost Da-ge, and I’m losing you and A-Yuan and… I was happy, I was so happy with you two! Wasn’t it good, all three of us?”

“It was,” Lan Wangji agreed, partly to comfort him, but also because it was true. They had gotten so comfortable together. It had taken a while to get used to this situation none of them had wanted, but… happiness was a good word for what they had built.

Lan Wangji too was sad to lose this, but he knew by then that nothing good ever lasted.

-

Nie Huaisang arrived in the middle of the night, furious and panicked, ranting about his brother’s body having disappeared. Lan Wangji took him to the rabbits’ pen so they could discuss what they had both discovered about the tomb, about a song played wrong, about betrayal from a man Nie Huaisang had called his friend and trusted as a brother.

“I needed to tell someone,” Nie Huaisang sniffed when he was done explaining. “And there’s no one… I can’t trust anyone except you. You’re Hanguang-Jun, you’re the best person I know and I… I can’t do this alone. I need your help.”

For a moment, Lan Wangji stared at his husband, his ears ringing with those words he had desperately wished to hear from another mouth. Once, he would have given anything to be asked for his help by the man he would have wanted as his husband, only to be rejected time and time again.

It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the right man who had run to him, and Lan Wangji wondered if Nie Huaisang would have turned to him at all, had he had any other option. But it still made something shift inside his chest to have his assistance finally wanted like this.

“Of course I will help.”

Nie Huaisang smiled at him, a weak little smile without much joy to it, but one that spoke of trust and gratefulness beyond anything Lan Wangji had ever received.

-

Lan Xichen was devastated when Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang told him about what Jin Guangyao had done, but he believed them and offered his support.

“You have a good husband,” Lan Xichen said when he was alone with his brother. “I’m… glad things worked out.”

“I’m glad too,” Lan Wangji admitted. “I am glad you chose him.”

Lan Xichen smiled. It looked so forced that his brother could only notice it, but he kindly chose not to comment on it. After a day filled with such difficult conversations, it did not surprise Lan Wangji that his brother found it hard to rejoice at that time.

-

The trip to Nightless City did not go quite as planned, and what they found there horrified both of them. Lan Wangji was glad neither of them had tried to go there alone, because neither of them would have managed without the other.

It was odd that he had come to make such a good team with Nie Huaisang. Lan Wangji would never have expected that. He’d always believed that whoever shared his life would have to be an exceptional cultivator, his match in all the art, a swordsman beyond compare with who he would go on Night Hunt to right the wrongs of the world. Nie Huaisang was none of those things, but he had proven that he was not a bad person to have at one’s side.

Still, as they rested at an inn that night after attempting to contact Nie Mingjue’s soul, Lan Wangji worried for his husband. First, because Nie Huaisang had been wounded in the fight with his brother’s arm, and was only then finally letting Lan Wangji treat his wound. Secondly because Nie Huaisang was never this quiet normally. His mood worsened with every passing moment, until he looked almost as severe as his brother did sometimes.

“What is on your mind?” Lan Wangji asked as he finished bandaging Nie Huaisang’s throat.

Nie Huaisang shrugged.

“We’d had an argument before he died, about Jin Guangyao. I think he still hates me. He was the only person left in my life who liked me and I’ve made even my brother hate me.”

Lan Wangji’s hand stilled against his husband’s neck.

“Not the only one.”

“A-Yuan doesn’t count. He’s just… he’s still a baby and I’m like family. He just hasn’t grown out of it yet.”

“I like Huaisang,” Lan Wangji corrected. 

Nie Huaisang made an impatient gesture. 

"You're used to me, it's not the same. If you'd had a choice in this, you would have happily gone the rest of your life never talking to me." 

Lan Wangji fell silent, taking a moment to consider that statement. It was true that he only became close to Nie Huaisang because they were forced to spend time together. But the same might have been argued of any pair of friends. Without the right circumstances, people failed to get close even if they were perfect for one another. 

He liked Nie Huaisang. It was a different emotion than the one provoked by Wei Wuxian. Less reluctant. Less desperate also. It was oddly easy to like Nie Huaisang, because their life together had been easy, as if they had been old friends from the start, or old spouses rather. There was no one else Lan Wangji would have trusted so much with A-Yuan, no one else he would have managed to talk to about his worries and hopes. He had never managed to reach that sort of trust with Wei Wuxian, no matter how he had desperately wanted to. But with Nie Huaisang… 

It really had been so easy to like his husband, and it had been painful to lose his constant company. 

"I like Huaisang," he insisted once he reached that conclusion. "I'm glad you were chosen for me." 

"I'm not the person you really want at your side though." 

"Wei Ying never wanted to be at my side."

It hurt. After so long it still hurt. It might never stop hurting to have been rejected again and again by the person he had most wanted, but… but Nie Huaisang gave him a crooked half smile, and took his hand, which soothed some of that old ache. 

"His loss," he said with a warmth and affection that had become rare since his brother’s death "Wangji's side is a good place to be." 

-

It took a while to prepare that final corpse finding spell, and all the while Nie Huaisang’s mental state became worse and worse. It brought back terrible memories for Lan Wangji, of seeing Wei Wuxian slowly crumbling into pieces before his eyes, unable to do anything to help.

Nie Huaisang too tried to push him away, but he wasn’t as good at it, or perhaps he was simply less reluctant to be helped. After what was probably the first true fight of their marriage, Nie Huaisang gave in and agreed to have Cleansing once again played to him. It did not take all his pain away, but he no longer seemed so desperate, and stopped talking about slaughtering every single Jin.

Then finally, after months of patience, the spell was ready for use.

Lan Wangji left A-Yuan with Hou Tianjian as soon as he received the news from Nie Huaisang, warned Lan Xichen that he had to go, and flew straight to the Unclean Realm. Nie Huaisang immediately took him to his house, and started explaining how this would go. It was an unpleasant spell to say the least, using methods that Wei Wuxian would have probably not frowned upon. It made sense that the Nie sect did not want these methods of theirs to become too well known.

"This one will work for sure," Nie Huaisang said, emptying a small vial of blood on a compass. “It has never once not worked since its creation. We’re going to get my brother back, Wangji!”

Lan Wangji dared not asked where the blood came from. At best it was an animal's, at worst a criminal's. Either way, he would rather not know.

But just as Nie Huaisang promised, this time they got a reaction. The compass’s needle started moving, pointing them toward four different directions. It was not a surprise to find that Nie Mingjue’s body had been cut in parts, they’d been expecting it, and yet it was still a shock. Nie Huaisang paled and trembled at this confirmation that Jin Guangyao had truly desecrated his brother’s body in such a manner. Lan Wangji grabbed his shoulder so he wouldn’t collapse, half wishing to pull him into a hug. It seemed like something that Nie Huaisang might need. Before Lan Wangji could act on that impulse, Nie Huaisang had himself back under control and was taking notes as to the direction they should head to first. 

-

They did not go very far for the first part of Nie Mingjue.

They did not even leave the lands owned by Qinghe Nie.

To both their horror, they found the legs of Nie Mingjue inside a mausoleum belonging to the Nie sect. Nie Huaisang explained its purpose while they searched it, his voice growing increasingly desperate with each new use of his blood compass which seemed to point at nonsensical directions once they were inside.

“The walls,” Lan Wangji said when his husband finished explaining how that place worked, what it did, and the horrifying understanding of what Jin Guangyao had done dawned on him.

Nie Huaisang furiously shook his head, tears forming in his eyes that he would not allow to spill.

“It can’t be! I was there when we repaired it! I supervised it, I wanted to be a good sect leader, to take responsibility, I… I would have seen it! All the bodies were whole, I saw it, I saw them!”

“Yet Chifeng-Zun must be there.”

Nie Huaisang wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and together they opened the wall in the place the compass pointed to. There was a body there, a whole one. They exchanged a look, and without a word Nie Huaisang started undressing that man, checking first his right arm since they had found the left one already, then his torso. Nie Huaisang cried out in horror at the sight of a line of careful stitches attaching foreign legs to that man’s torso, their skin a different shade than the rest of his body.

Nie Huaisang roared like a wounded beast.

“I trusted him!” he shouted, breaking into tears. “I trusted him, I liked him so much! But Da-ge was right, he was always right! I trusted him and he did this, I trusted him…”

Lan Wangji looked at his husband, kneeling next to the half body of his own brother, curled up and shaking from tears and rage. He moved without thinking, kneeling next to him and pulling him in his arms. It did not bother him when Nie Huaisang’s arms encircled his waist to cling at his back, when the other man buried his face against his chest to sob.

Nie Huaisang had long ago become one of those precious few people whose touch Lan Wangji welcomed.

More than welcomed, perhaps.

Lan Wangji rubbed circles on his husband’s back, silently trying to comfort him, to show him that he was not alone, that there was someone else for him to trust. Someone who would not turn on him the way Jin Guangyao had.

Nie Huaisang cried and cried, until he had no tears left, until he was just sobbing and hiccuping in Lan Wangji’s arms, until he calmed down, still clinging to his husband’s back. They remained like this a long while, longer than was safe in such a place. But Lan Wangji refused to be the one to break the contact, not when it felt right to be holding Nie Huaisang who so clearly needed it, and it seemed Nie Huaisang as well refused to be the one to give up on it.

They only let go of each other when they heard the voice of a Nie disciple calling out to them, surprised to find them there on his patrol.

Nie Huaisang quickly tore himself from Lan Wangji’s embrace and went to meet his disciple to feed him a lie about an anomaly he’d detected with one of the entrapped corpses, and how it would need to be discreetly replaced.

Lan Wangji tried not to think too much about how right it had felt to be holding his husband this close.

Fierce corpses and conspiracies he could deal with, but this he was not ready to face yet.

-

It took Lan Wangji over a week to finally understand where the blood used in the tracking spell came from.

When he entered their room at an inn and found Nie Huaisang cutting into his own arm to get fuel for the compass, Lan Wangji felt stupid for not understanding sooner.

“It’s the only way!” Nie Huaisang hissed before his husband could say a word. “It has to be a blood relative or it doesn’t work. If you don’t like it, go away, I’ll find him on my own!”

Lan Wangji said nothing. He closed the door behind him, and put down the tray of food he had bought for their dinner. Still silent, he came to kneel next to the bed on which Nie Huaisang sat, and grasped his husband’s arm. Nie Huaisang barely resisted before letting him inspect the cut. It was deeper than it probably needed to be, and longer too. Lan Wangji sent some spiritual energy into it so it would heal faster.

“I have to do it like that,” Nie Huaisang insisted, nearly pleading now. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you wouldn’t like it. It’s bad magic, I know, but…”

“I don’t like it,” Lan Wangji agreed. “Not because it is bad. Because Huaisang is hurt.”

Nie Huaisang huffed, and tried to pull his arm away. Lan Wangji did not allow it.

“Ah, Wangji, careful with what you say. I’ll start thinking you care about me if you say things like that!”

“I do,” Lan Wangji protested.

Nie Huaisang was his friend, his husband, the other father of his son. Of course he cared. He thought he had made it clear.

He would need to make it clearer, because Nie Huaisang gave him a very odd look, as if he were almost scared to hear those words, and that wouldn’t do. He needed Nie Huaisang to know he was appreciated.

“How much blood is needed?” Lan Wangji asked, hoping that subject would be less distressing to his husband.

“That full vial every time.”

It was not a lot of blood as such, but they had been using the compass every day. Even for a stronger cultivator, this would not have been ideal. Lan Wangji quickly gave the situation some thought.

“We stop using it every day,” he decided. Nie Huaisang opened his mouth to protest, but Lan Wangji silenced him with a gesture. “We do not need it every day. We will take note of the direction and follow it. If the direction changes, we act accordingly. Your diet must also be changed to help you replace that blood. I will be monitoring your health.”

“It’s not necessary, I’m just fine,” Nie Huaisang pouted. “It’s just a little blood, who cares?”

“I care,” Lan Wangji reminded him, distractedly stroking the skin of the arm he was still holding. “I do not want Huaisang to be hurt.”

Nie Huaisang stared at him with an intensity neither of them could quite handle, forcing both of them to look away.

“You don’t have to do this,” Nie Huaisang muttered, weakly trying to pull his arm away again. And again, Lan Wangji refused to allow it.

“I have to do this. You are important.”

“To A-Yuan,” Nie Huaisang huffed, a spot of colour on his cheeks.

“To A-Yuan,” Lan Wangji granted him. “To me as well.”

More colour spread to Nie Huaisang’s face, and Lan Wangji felt the other man’s heartbeat quicken. He looked intently at Nie Huaisang, wishing to say something that he could not yet quite put into words, not even in the secret of his own mind. He wanted to explain just how important Nie Huaisang was to him, how much he cared, how deeply it saddened him that Nie Huaisang couldn’t see it, how he wished he were better with words to say it the way it needed to be said.

Lan Wangji hadn’t found it so hard to speak on any subject since he had made a similar realisation about Wei Wuxian, years before.

That, perhaps, ought to have been a clue as to what was happening.

But before Lan Wangji could fully process his own thoughts, Nie Huaisang started complaining about being hungry. That took precedence over Lan Wangji’s internal ramblings. He finally let go of his husband’s arm and went to pick up again the food he had brought. He made sure that Nie Huaisang ate his whole share, even when he accused Lan Wangji of being a nagging mother.

Someone had to take care of Nie Huaisang, and Lan Wangji did not mind being that person.

-

It had been good luck to meet Song Lan, more so than they realised at first.

Of course, Lan Wangji was a little star struck at first upon meeting such a renowned rogue cultivator and being offered to travel together since they were headed the same way. It was hard to say if Song Lan noticed, but Nie Huaisang did and teased him mercilessly over it every time they were alone. Lan Wangji did not mind. If anything, he was glad that Nie Huaisang’s mood was decent enough to think of joking this way. It had become rare since his brother’s death, and Lan Wangji had missed it.

It was good to have met Song Lan.

They only understood how good that had been when a blind girl led them to the place where she lived to meet a man that she claimed was Xiao Xingchen, and they found themselves facing Xue Yang instead.

Lan Wangji and Song Lan fought against him, while Nie Huaisang forced the blind girl to come with him so they could warn Xiao Xingchen of what was happening. Furious to see whatever nefarious plan he had come up with fall apart like this, Xue Yang pulled out every dirty trick he could. In a moment of distraction Song Lan was hit with corpse poisoning, distracting him just long enough that Xue Yang would have had a chance to slice open his mouth, if not for Lan Wangji’s intervention.

It was then that the fog already present around them since the start of that fight grew thicker, blinding Lan Wangji. Xue Yang was light enough on his feet that it made his attack nearly undetectable, the only warning his killing intent.

Thankfully Xiao Xingchen joined them at that point, and it seemed that not being able to see was not a problem for him. Lan Wangji, at that moment, guessed it had to be that the rogue cultivator’s level was simply great enough for it. He only understood later the true reason behind his ease, and cursed Xue Yang all over again.

It was a thrilling fight. To be side by side with two such renowned cultivators, trying to capture a black hearted villain whose crimes could not be denied because he had confessed to them with dark glee… it was the sort of life Lan Wangji would have dreamed of in his youth.

It only occurred to him too late that if Xiao Xingchen was there, then Nie Huaisang might have returned as well. Lan Wangji would have expected his husband to wisely remain hidden, since he was no fighter. And perhaps Nie Huaisang did remain hidden, but not well enough, because Xue Yang found him.

Lan Wangji’s blood froze in his veins when he heard Nie Huaisang’s pained cry coming from inside the fog.

He dashed ahead, following the sounds of a commotion. In the thick fog he spotted two figures struggling, the taller one having the clear advantage, the smaller one trying to protect a third shape curled up on the ground. Later, the blind girl who wasn’t blind in the least explained that Xue Yang had stumbled into the place where she and Nie Huaisang were hiding, and that he had wanted to make her pay for her betrayal. Nie Huaisang had tried to protect her, only to be stabbed. When Lan Wangji found them, Nie Huaisang was trying to stop Xue Yang from pulling his sword away so he could not strike again.

Distracted by this struggle, Xue Yang could not defend himself when Lan Wangji attacked, slashing at him with enough strength to sever his arm. The shock of that wound was such that Xue Yang could not resist the talismans Lan Wangji and Song Lan, alerted by the noise, threw at him to immobilize him.

With this taken care of, Lan Wangji turned to his husband. They were close enough that even in that fog he could see Nie Huaisang smile at him.

“I knew you’d rescue me,” Nie Huaisang said, before collapsing on the ground.

Lan Wangji heard a shout, which he did not realise then was his own. He rushed to Nie Huaisang’s side, inspecting his wound with trembling hands. He swiftly removed Xue Yang’s blade from his husband's body and poured as much spiritual energy into healing the wound as he could, desperate to heal him.

He could not lose Nie Huaisang.

Not him as well.

Lan Wangji was not sure he would have the strength to survive another loss.

He wasn’t sure he’d have the will to survive this.

The universe must have taken pity on him that day, because Nie Huaisang’s wound reacted well to Lan Wangji’s spiritual energy and soon stopped bleeding. Xiao Xingchen, although clearly shaken by everything that had happened, promptly offered to take them to his house so they could better care for Nie Huaisang and make sure that Xue Yang was properly chained up.

Lan Wangji picked up his unconscious husband in his arms, holding him close to his heart as they made their way to the house in question.

Later, when Nie Huaisang’s life was certain to be in no danger, when it was sure that Xue Yang would not escape, Lan Wangji came to sit on the side of his husband’s bed. He took the other man’s hand, needing to feel its warmth, and set out to patiently wait for Nie Huaisang to wake up. Before too long, he had the surprise of being joined by Song Lan.

Song Lan, with that cold politeness of his, enquired about Nie Huaisang. He appeared relieved to find that the other man was stable. His own corpse poisoning had been handled already. Aside from Xue Yang, nobody would have lasting sequels from that fight. Not physically, at least. It would probably take Xiao Xingchen a little time to recover from the ways Xue Yang had manipulated him, but he was a hopeful person and already making plans to leave Yi City so he and that not-so-blind girl could start travelling with Song Lan, exactly as he had once done before Xue Yang ruined his life a first time.

“Sometimes, life gives you a second chance,” Song Lan said, looking outside where Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing were putting their things in order. 

Lan Wangji nodded, his hand still holding Nie Huaisang’s. His husband would be fine with a little rest. His ridiculous, impossible husband who should have known better than to put himself in danger but had done it anyway, because Nie Huaisang was nothing if not dedicated to doing what was right. 

It had never occurred before to Lan Wangji how much Nie Huaisang trusted him. Even though the other man had turned to him time and time again since his brother’s death, Lan Wangji had told himself that it was simply by lack of choice. But the way he had said he knew Lan Wangji would rescue him, as if it had been an evidence to him… and he was not wrong. Lan Wangji had come running at the first sign of trouble. Lan Wangji would have done anything to protect that husband of his, this man he cared so much about that he did not know how to handle it.

Satisfied with that conversation, Song Lan left the two of them alone. Through the window, Lan Wangji saw him walk up to Xiao Xingchen to help him with something. Once, it would have filled Lan Wangji with envy to see the two of them work together like that, their every movement speaking of trust and habit even after years apart. But there was no envy that day. There would not be envy again, Lan Wangji realised.

It took him a moment to notice when Nie Huaisang woke up, but Lan Wangji eventually noticed the more rapid pulse in the hand he was still holding. When he looked down at the bed, he found his husband looking back at him with an expression he could not quite read.

“You saved me,” Nie Huaisang whispered.

“You knew I would,” Lan Wangji replied, letting go of his husband’s hand to push away the hair that had fallen before his eyes.

Nie Huaisang smiled weakly, leaning into that touch. Without thinking about it, Lan Wangji cupped his cheek, which made the other man’s smile widen.

“Ah, Wangji, Wangji,” he sighed. “I’ll be getting ideas if you keep being so nice to me, so you should stop.”

“They would be the right ideas,” Lan Wangji calmly replied.

He felt Nie Huaisang flinch, saw his eyes widen as if in fear.

“Wangji, don’t make me hope for something I can’t have,” he whispered. “I can’t go through that again. I know who you want, who you love.”

“I want a man who stands at my side and is happy there,” Lan Wangji said as he gently stroked Nie Huaisang’s cheek with his thumb. “I love a man who sees me and finds me worthy of trust.”

“Lans only love once.”

Lan Wangji huffed at that old tale. He had never thought of it in his youth, before clinging to it with desperation when everyone tried to order him to turn away from Wei Wuxian. Now, though, it felt as nothing more than a story, a cautionary tale to encourage Lan children to be careful with their affections.

“Not all Lans,” he stated, leaning forward to carefully kiss his husband.

Nie Huaisang gasped against his lips, but did not push him away.

It was a sweet first kiss, Lan Wangji thought. Different from the one he had stolen on a tree, so many years before. Nie Huaisang’s lips were a little parched but retained a certain softness, and he was leaning eagerly into the kiss rather than fighting to escape it.

When they parted, Nie Huaisang was smiling more brightly than he had in months. More brightly than he ever had before, Lan Wangji thought, and the realisation that he was the cause for such happiness made him smile as well.

He then kissed Nie Huaisang again, simply because he could, because it was allowed, because it was welcome, because he loved this man he had married, with whom he was raising a child.

Lan Wangji loved him and after that second kiss Nie Huaisang returned those words to him before kissing him again, and again, both of them too happy to stop.

[spookymultimedia]

A Summer to Remember Ch 5

[Tim pov]

I walked up to Ned Flanders after breakfast and looked at him from a few feet away. He was in the kitchen working on the morning dishes, just humming to himself. It was cute. He really was a sweet man. I wasn't sweet like him. I was bitter and tired. Helen tells me I'm a pessimistic person and how I tend to see the negative side of things most of the time. I hated early mornings and usually grumbled instead of talking. Mornings were just too early sometimes. I liked to keep to myself and had a distaste for casual conversations. They felt anything but casual for me. There's uncomfortable lulls and I never know what to say. In conversation everything is unpredictable and I never have the right words. On the pulpit it's different. I've planned out what I have to say. I know what to expect for the most part. Everything is controlled. I like control. Is it selfish to prefer a little less chaos in my life?

       But somehow over the years I've grown used to Ned. Of course sometimes I don't feel like talking, but sometimes he just has to worry and talk on and on about something that's not that big of a deal and sometimes I have to step in and put him into perspective of what really matters. He's a nervous person. He can't help it. We're only human.  We both have our flaws; he's probably a more likeable person than I am though.

    So how on earth can such a kind, optimistic, genuine person have feelings for someone like me? It was surprising. Unpredictable. But I didn't mind this surprise. It was a new discovery of this friend I've come to like. Really when I think about it, it's no surprise that he's gay.

     I walked up closer to Ned and looked at him. I tried on a smile for once,

      "Good morning."

He gasped at me then smiled, "Reverend. I didn't hear you; you scared me. Goodmorning. "

     "I'm sorry." I frowned awkwardly. I really was that quiet, huh. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel better." He shrugged. He didn't sound confident. 

   "I'm here for you." I smiled again.

"I know you are." Ned smiled warmly. There was something about Ned that made you feel good. He could make you see how temporary worldly troubles are and made you feel like everything would be ok. 

      "Ned, are you going to come out to us as a group this morning? I think it would make for a good discussion. . .if you're comfortable with that of course." 

      He thought for a moment before he nodded. "Yeah, I'm comfortable. I trust all of you." He smiled at me looking happy to have some support. "Tim. . .why did you walk off like that last night?"

  I just shrugged, "I don't know." I didn't have a good answer. I just didn't want to be there anymore, I had felt confused last night. What was sexuality? What was mine? I was straight, right? But how did I know that? It was all too overwhelming to process. I wasn't sure where to start. 

     "Oh. .ok." Ned looked down thoughtfully and looked at me again. "Should I bring up how I feel about you?? I'm sorry, I should just get over it  .  . .I should. .I'm sorry." He rubbed his hand on his arm nervously. He was tense. He should relax more. 

     "Ned it's okay, it just happens sometimes. It's up to you if you want to talk about it. . you don't have to though." 

        "Okay. I'll catch ya later then. I better go wash up." He walked off. 

         If it was up to me I'd just have both of them, Ned and Helen. Maybe something in me felt curious. I wanted to see what dating Ned would be like. I winced, confused. Why was I thinking like that? Did I have feelings for him?? That's not how marriage works. It is between a man and . . . No I mean, it's between two people, not three or more. But why not? Why was it that way? If I made Ned happy and chose to be with him that would mean I'd have to leave Helen, I love Helen. I've been through everything with her. We've had our highs and lows. We even came close to breaking at times but we stayed strong. I can't just end that now. But what if I do nothing and regret it forever? What if I end up wanting Ned more than I realize? Was this something I was seriously considering?? I felt sick.

        "Timothy?" 

      I flinched and turned to see Maude. "Oh, it's you." I sighed out relieved. I was jittery at the moment. It didn't help that I had just drank coffee. 

        "Are you alright?" She cocked her head.

"Yes." I said firmly. ". .why?"

        "You were staring at the wall?"

". . .mm yes." I walked off, again, for no good reason.

[Ned pov]

     I sat there waiting for morning study.

I stared at the fireplace that was always lit. Helen always complained to Timothy it was impractical and only made a mess. No one really knew why he always had it lit. He just likes setting fires for some reason. My chest was feeling just like that fire; restless, warm and tense. What if Helen hates me? What if I lose her friendship? What if I ruin everything? I took my hand and gently fiddled with my other hand, pulling at its fingers nervously. It was a bit hard to breathe. Maude sat by me.

       "Hey. You ok? You look tense." I looked down at her and shrugged. "He asked me to come out officially to you all and. . well, I'm scared of how Helen will take it." I muttered. She held my hand and I took it.

       "Well I'm here for you. I always will." I nodded and took a deep breath.

"Ok."

     Soon Timothy and Helen joined us and sat down. He opened up with a prayer and looked at me, "Ned, would you like to share an enlightening discovery you've had recently?" 

        I nodded but didn't say anything for a moment.

      "Well?" Helen asked, a bit confused and impatient. 

       He put up a hand, "Helen, please." He looked at me kindly, "Take your time Ned."

     I swallowed. "I'm- I'm gay. I'm a gay man. I. .I like men." My voice shook.

Helen shrugged, "Is that all? I thought it was something serious."  I wasn't sure what to say to her. She wasn't upset. That was something.

        "And the Lord understands you and loves you Ned, there's nothing wrong about you at all." Tim confirmed to me once again.

Should I tell her more? The truth would come out eventually, I might as well say it. 

       "Helen . . .I . . .I need to confess something that's been on my heart."

         She looked at me puzzled, "What?"

I opened my mouth trying to find my words.

     "I'm sorry. . .I just- I- I hope you can find it in your heart to understand." 

      "Okay. ."

       "I fell in love with your husband.  . .I didn't mean to. I didn't do anything with him I promised but I've just been having these strong feelings and I know it isn't right. . ." I felt a tear run down my face. She should just yell at me, I deserve it. I was shaking. 

       "Oh. . Oh .Ned. I understand. . .it's okay. I forgive you. It's just a harmless crush. I don't blame you. He really is a nice man." She smiled up at Tim and petted his back. Ridiculous jealousy itched at the back of my head. I wanted to hold him too. Why can't I have him?! I want him!! I need him. These bitter thoughts left me with a bad taste in my mouth. It was unlike me to feel so jealous. 

"Yeah. . ."

      "I'm glad you could be honest with us,Ned." 

      I stood up, "I need fresh air. . ." I made my way outside. I felt like I could throw up. 

     "Are you ok?" Tim stood up. Stop caring about me, it hurts. I kept walking and ran until I was in a meadow. I layed down. The bugs were going to be everywhere in my clothes. It didn't matter, I'll run to the showers soon. I started to cry. I was just so overwhelmed and stressed I couldn't help it. I felt dizzy. Emotions were burning me alive. My heart was yearning for something that was forbidden. He wasn't mine. He'd never be mine. The thought upset me like a spoiled child who was told no. I felt stupid. 

       After a minute I stood up. Maude looked at me from outside the meadow. She was only a couple feet away. "What's wrong?"

"I . .  . I want to be alone right now."

She nodded, 

          "Okay. . .we love you." 

  "I know. I love you too."

[Maude pov]

I walked back to the cabin and found the Lovejoys still by the fireplace, 

      "He wants to be alone right now."

"Hmmm. ." Timothy looked at the floor looking distressed, "This is my fault I shouldn't have pressured him. I should have let him talk on his own terms." He ran his hand through his hair. "Did I say something wrong?"

            "I don't think so?" Helen replied. She put a hand on his back. 

   "You're very supportive,Timothy." I sat by him. 

        "Thanks Maude." He smiled but still seemed worried. "He's not hurting anyone. I don't feel offended or betrayed at all." He paused before looking at Helen. "Are you?"

She shook her head, "No, he was only being honest. I don't feel upset. I don't see any issue with Ned having feelings really."

         "Doesn't it bother you a little that we're married?"

         She shrugged at him, "No. . .I mean I am a bit surprised. I don't know." She looked over at me and walked over to where I was sitting. I was staring at the floor thinking.

    "Everything okay?"

            I wanted to be honest with her but I wasn't ready. I was still anxious. I just shrugged. 

     "Why don't we go for a swim? Will that help?" 

       I smiled and nodded, "That would be nice. It's so humid out here." I stood up and gave her a hug. She hugged me back, she always did. Her hugs were firm and sincere. God, I could feel her chest under my head, they were so soft and nice. After a couple minutes I let go and left to change into swimming clothes.

       I found Helen at the "beach" and sat in the shallow water with her. I sighed at the cool water, this was nice. Helen's hair was already dripping on her shoulders. 

     "Feel better?"

      She looked down at me.

     "Mmhm."  I leaned on her shoulder and smiled. The shore's waves beat against our legs washing small rocks off and onto us. I picked up a smooth olive grey rock that looked pretty and looked it over. Helen started to skip stones across the water. Or at least she tried to. The most she could get were two skips and when she had she looked over at me with huge eyes, "Did you see it?" She said proudly. 

                          "Yeah I did." 

 For a few moments we were peacefully quiet until she spoke up, "Maude?"

                  "Hm?"

      "Have you ever kissed a girl?"

I tensed up slightly, was she suspicious??

  "No. . ."

           "Oh. ." She sounded a bit disappointed, it surprised me. Why?

    "I have once."

I sat up and looked at her, "Really?" I gave her a look that begged her to tell me more. 

      "Yeah . . I was in 10th grade and I there was this all girls sleepover at my house. Me and this one girl thought it would be funny to kiss. I dunno, we just wanted to make a scene I guess." There was a giggle and blush in her voice. I smirked, "I'm not surprised."

     "Well, we did it. And we made out because it just kept getting attention and I dunno I was just young, it was just too fun. And well I . .I kinda liked how her mouth felt against mine and how her chest felt against me . ..But I was young." She shrugged.

          "So?"

"So I . . .I just like men now." I could swear she was trying not to look at my wet shirt where my boobs were. She played with her hand in the water and looked down.

      "Are you sure?"

She shrugged, "I don't know.  .I mean. I just thought it was something all young girls went through." 

              "A phase?"

"Yeah. ." 

            "Well, do you still like girls?"

"Maybe.  .  .? Isn't that weird?"

       "What?" 

"That I'm- that I might sorta maybe still feel attracted to women while I'm married?"

           "Mmmmm I don't think so."

"But I love Timothy."

           "I think you can find them nice to look at and still be committed to Timothy, Helen. I forget what the word was. Umm. . .bisexual I think?" 

         "Oh . . ."

"That doesn't mean you're gonna go around kissing other girls. You're committed and you just happened to like girls too. It makes sense."

       "But.  . .what if I do want to kiss other girls?"

     "I . .I don't know." I blushed. Was she thinking about what I thought she was thinking about?? I got butterflies everywhere.

"Do you?"

         ". .Yeah.  . ."

       She leaned slowly towards me, testing the waters. I stopped thinking and met her in between. I pecked her lips and she pecked at mine. Her hands rested at my waist. Something in me woke up. It was an aching desire to get closer to her. To get more of that sickly sweet sensation I was feeling that felt so nice. I poked my tongue into her mouth, and she cracked open for me to feel and explore. I kissed her deeper and felt her cheek with my palm. It was a wonderful feeling. After a minute she broke the kiss and looked at me, her face was flushed pink. "Helen . .Helen, you have to tell Timothy about us." 

     "It was just a kiss.  . I mean friends kiss sometimes right?"

           "Usually no. . .not like that." 

She thought it over in her head, "God, we've made such a mess." Despite her stress her hand played with my hair, my head leaned against it. 

        I gave her a long look and before I knew it we were on each other again. Her kisses were hastey but deep. Intense but soft. I got into her lap and felt her hand pet at my back. One of my hands rested on her chest. It was soft, it was so soft. I wanted to grab at it and play with her . . .but that wouldn't be ladylike of me. So I resisted. I pulled out and rested on her shoulder to catch a breath. "Helen you're pushing your luck, what are you gonna do if he finds us like this?? What if he's upset?"-

     I looked over at the sound of footsteps and found Timothy standing there. I quickly moved off of her. "Reverend! I . . .we. .we got- it got out of hand. .I'm sorry. Please don't be mad." I teared up feeling scared and hugged myself. 

                "Helen.  . ?" There was hurt in his eyes. "I- I didn't realize you felt this way."

        "Timothy I'm sorry. . .I still love you, I mean it. .I'm so sorry, can we talk about this?"

       "I understand." He walked off solemnly. 

[barnesbabee]

I’m a Lie || K.H

Summary: Destiny is cruel sometimes... And you sure were punished by it, when you met your soulmate in the worst scenario possible.

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Reader

Words: Who cares tbh

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

⚠ choking, spanking, praise kink, violence, mentions of drugs ⚠

A/N: I love this one. By far one of my favourites and I feel like it suits the member well. If it flops I will singlehandedly murder everyone. Enjoy xx💖

ᴄʀ: ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱʙᴀʙᴇᴇ

  The file plopped in front of you. A picture of a man was attached to it and you looked at it briefly.

 Kim Hongjoong.

  "Retain information. Eliminate him. It's not important how, by the end of the month Kim Hongjoong has to disappear."   

  You said nothing. Your only reply was a nod, and with that you grabbed the beige folder and exited the gelid room. The jet was already at the top of the building waiting for you to enter.

  You bowed to the security guards that stood by each side of the jet's stairs, and they reciprocated the gesture.

  Once you settled down in the plane, you crossed your legs and prepared yourself for some thorough reading. You flipped through the pages of the man's profile, taking in all of the information.

  "Producer, writer, rapper... Kid had a future." You closed the binder with a sigh and threw it on the small table in front of you "Too bad."

  You sipped from the water bottle in your hand and a man sat in front of you. He had a rough face, like he'd been through Hell and made it out alive. His dark hair was tamed by a coat of hair gel, and his eyes were droopy yet feral.

   "Junhwan." You said, and bowed at him.

   "Y/N." He bowed back.

   He handed you a second file and a heavy handbag.

   "From now on your name is Anne. You're an exchange student interested in pursuing a musical career as a producer. All of the items to bring 'Anne' to life are in the duffel bag."

   You nodded and set the bag aside, ready to take in your character.

   "Poor kid..." You told your colleague as you read the details of the person you'd be impersonating for the next few weeks.

   The man in front of you scoffed.

    "Since when do you pity people?" He asked with an amused face.

    "I don't. But he got caught in a fight that wasn't his."

    Junhwan leaned closer to you and looked you in the eye, irradiating and intimidation as he slightly leaned his head to the right.

     "Don't let decency and sentiment get in the way." He warned with a cold voice.

     You didn't reply. You felt offended that the man would even insinuate you'd fail at anything. You glared at him for a second, and drifted his attention back to the 'Anne' files.

    However, you couldn't get out of your head the poor man that would be sacrificed in the name of another individual. It was unbeknownst to everyone how it had happened, but Hongjoong had caught his boss making a significant transaction to your boss and talking about it on the phone. He didn't understand at first, but when he caught sight of the bags filled with the white powder he was able to connect all the dots. Unfortunately for him, he was caught. And although the CEO of his company trusted him enough to keep quiet, your boss didn't.

    It was sad... Usually the people you were assigned to were madmen, criminals, vile people that couldn't differentiate joy from violence, but never young men, at the peak of their career whose life was cursed by knowledge.

   You sighed one last time before making your way to the bathroom. You dyed your hair blue and cut it shoulder-length, as you wanted your appearance to scream "creativity". Your hair was usually bleached, so if you had to suddenly dye it for some sort of mission it would be faster and easier.

   One hour later you exited the bathroom, with blue hair and a brand new outfit that had been given to you. You grabbed all of your materials and exited the jet that hat landed not long before that.

   Time flashed by the second you stepped foot in Seoul. You were used to monotone scenarios, cold atmospheres, and torture, but Seoul was the opposite. The lights and colors of the city were inviting and the smiles of the old ladies selling food on the street gave you a warm feeling in your body.

  You tried to adjust to the city for the next day, and by 3 PM your assigned phone sounded with a ding. You checked it and read the message Junhwah had sent you.

   "9 AM. KQ Entertainment, two blocks down your home. They will be teaching you, you're supposed to be an intern. I expect excellence and nothing else."

   You took in the information and nodded to yourself as you read it.

   "Understood." You typed and hit send.

   You studied Hongjoong thoroughly that night. Every little movement, every peculiar habit, and every detail about the man. You wished you didn't need to do it however... The more you looked into him, the more you realized how pure, generous, hard-working, and amiable he was.

  "Fuck..." You cursed, dragging the 'u' in the word, as you threw your head back.

   You couldn't take watching that smile that would soon be gone anymore, so you just crashed in the small bed of your flat and waited for the next day.

   When 9 AM rolled in, you were already in the building, looking for some sort of guidance.

   "Are you Anne?"

   You whipped your head to find a man you'd never seen before. He certainly wasn't a member of ATEEZ, but he looked like an idol.

    It was finally time for you to perform as Anne, and so you put on a scaredy-cat face and bowed nervously.

  "Y-yes, yes I am."

  You made sure to add a little stutter for conviction. It seemed to convince the man, as he chuckled and extended his hand.

   "I'm Jiho, but I go by Zico." He paused as you smiled and shook his hand "I will be one of your mentors, along with Hongjoong. He's the leader of ATEEZ, have you heard of them?"

  You nodded your head slightly and he smiled.

  "You'll like him. Follow me then, he's already in the studio."

  Much to your dismay, Hongjoong was exactly what he displayed on camera. You half expected him to be rude and stuck-up, but he was just as kind and loving how as he made it look.

   Focus on the mission.

  Getting close to Hongjoong was easy. You pretended to be interested in every single task at hand, constantly asking for his help and even staying for longer than necessary at night.

  “Anne... You know you don't need to stay, right?" Hingjoong told you.

   His voice was tired, and he looked as if he needed to sleep for a day straight to catch up on missed sleeping hours but he still kept on working.

   "I know Joong but..." You paused, looking down at your feet and fiddling with your fingers, trying to sell your character as best as you could "I like to spend time with you."

   The last sentence came out a little too sincere for your liking, and for a second you became worried. All of the worry was replaced with confusion when Hingjoong brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. You looked up at him as if to ask 'What are you doing?'.

   Hongjoong leaned forward and his lips ghosted over yours for a second. You didn't move, afraid of what the aftermath would be, but his impatience won over and he closed the gap.

   You hated it. You hated how amazing it felt, how your lips fit together, how you felt a wave of sparks throughout your body, how his hands burned on your thighs... You felt like your whole body was on fire and fuck, you wanted to grab him by the collar and pull him closer, but you couldn't.

   He pulled away, leaving you wishing for more. His stare instantly roamed around the room, avoiding your figure.

   "I-I'm sorry... I'm sorry if you feel it's rushed. I'm sorry if you didn't like it but I don't know... I feel a connection with you, you know? It's cheesy, but I've never met someone who loves to work as much as you, someone who's always inspired and who's always eager to learn more, someone so loving and creative."

   Your heart broke at the confession. It shattered into a million pieces that could never be put together again, and you hated what you were doing. You were knowingly breaking this man apart, tearing him up and destroying him bit by bit, and he had no idea, he just contributed to it.

   "Hongjoong I... I feel the same way. I love working with you and you're such an amazing person, I'm sorry if you never felt it, it's just that I'm really nervous around you."

  Those words were the hardest you had ever spoken, and the content smile in his face after your untruthful confession hurt more than any bullet you'd ever taken, or any knife that had ever stabbed you.

   A Lie. He was happy because of a lie, your lie.

   "Would you maybe join me for a drink tomorrow?"

   You bit your lip. You were sure that if your response had to be vocal, a sob would end up leaving your lips.

   You only nodded as a reply to his question, and said nod was met with the brightest smile you'd ever seen and a small nervous laugh.

   "It's a date then!" He cheered.

   "So it is..." You said, and pulled off the greatest fake smile.

   You looked at the clock on the wall and pretended you had no idea what time it was before you had noticed it.

   "Oh my! 3 AM!? I really must be going, I'll see you tomorrow Hongjoong!"

   You kissed his cheek and left with a small wave.

   The second you entered the flat, you threw your bag against the table and slid down the wall, face buried in your hands and the sobs you'd been holding back were let out and echoed in the almost empty room. You couldn't help but ket tears fall down your cheeks, wetting your palms in the process.

   You detested the feeling. You dispised the overwhelming guilt taking over you. You hated that Hingjoong probably strolled back to his flat and happily told his friends about how he had a date and was looking forward to it, you hated how your lie was selling perfectly.

    You stood up and stumbled across the room to find a mirror. You placed your hands on the sink for support and rested your forehead against the mirror.

   "You need to get closer to him... You need to know what he knows... You need to make him speak... You need him to expose his knowledge... You need to do this. It is but another job." You repeated to yourself, in hopes that perhaps this chaos in your mind and stabbing pain in your chest would leave and let you be.

   But it didn't. The pain only increased and became stronger, second after second. Hongjoong's face would sometimes flash on your mind, and a small smile would unintentionally spread on your lips.

   The next day came excruciatingly fast, and as soon as it was deemed acceptable to be awake, your phone made a ding, and you checked it immediately.

   Hongjoong told you about the time and place you'd be meeting in, and so you replied with an 'okay!' along with a couple excited emojis, although they represented nothing of what you were feeling, quite the opposite.

   You threw on whatever you thought would please him most: black thigh-high socks, a green flowy skirt, and a black and yellow crop top.

   Before you left to meet him you looked in the mirror and made sure to congratulate yourself for your work. You managed to carry on your mission, even though your wishes were to run away with this man and ket him live.

   You took a deep breath and made your way to the small bar nearby. You had no worries walking around at night in a short skirt, because you were surely not short on knives.

   It was a small place, decorated with rustic furniture and numerous rock and indie band items, ranging from albums, to picks, to guitars. The whole aesthetic fit Hongjoong pretty well, and when you spotted him in one of the tool chairs you realized how he morphed into the ambient. You smiled softly and approached him.

   "Hongjoong, hi!"

   You were immediately met with a blinding, toothy smile from the man, who stood up and immediately hugged you.

   Throughout the night, Hongjoong ecstatically told you about his life, his hobbies, his friends, and about everything and anything. He was thrilled to have you there and you found it adorable how he wasn't afraid to demonstrate his fondness.

    When it came the time to talk about you however, a sting hut your heart, and it's as if someone was squishing it from the inside of your body. But the lies flew out of your mouth naturally, telling him about a life you never had, about friends that weren't real, and about your untrue hobbies.

   It was all so amusing to him... Hearing all about Anne's life...

    The conversation came to a halt when the bartender approached you two.

    "I'm sorry guys but I'm going to have to ask you to leave, on weekdays we close at 2 AM."

   His mouth formed an "oh", and although neither of you said it, you both knew that you didn't want this to end. Fuck, you'd stay up for work for a longer amount of time...

   "Hongjoong do you maybe... Want to go back to my flat and hangout? It's nearby!"

   No, fuck what are you doing, crazy bitch.

   "Sure! I'd love to!" He replied, absolutely thrilled about your invitation.

    He held your hand tightly as you walked down the cold street towards your flat. You couldn't stop asking yourself why you had done it... Perhaps an inner wish that came out at an unfortunate timing?

    It took no longer than ten minutes for you to reach the apartment, and once you stepped in you felt the need to apologize.

    "I'm sorry... It's very small but it's all I need."

    Hongjoong shrugged and took his jacked off, he approached you and placed his hand in your chin, making you look up at him.

    "It's a cute apartment, just like you." He told you, whispering the last words.

   As if it was a magnet, his lips were drawn to yours in a much passionate kiss than your first.

    His tongue entered your mouth and left no corner unexplored, as his hands gripped your ass from under the skirt.

    You could taste the alcohol in his tongue, adding a new flavor besides desperation and neediness to the kiss.

   You were surprised at his dominant demeanor, yet it pleases you very much, and you were impatient to find where it leads you.

   Hongjoong's lips trailed down your jaw and eventually found your neck, where he left small bites, and sucked on the soft spots.

    "If you only knew what this skirt was doing to me..."

    Your hands found his jeans, that you quickly unbuttoned. You slid your hand inside of them and applied pressure on his hard-on with your palm.

    "I think I might be able to guess..."

    You bit your lip, and palmed him through his underwear. Hingjoong threw his head back for a second and chuckled lowly. He grabbed your neck and pulled your face close to his.

    "Fuck, you're such a tease." He moaned.

    Hongjoong removed your hand from his body and gripped your wrist so you'd follow him.

    He sat down on the bad and grabbed your waist, pulling you down in the process so you'd be straddling him.

    He kissed the spot below your ear and tugged on your earlobe.

   "I want you to ride me, baby.

   "Yes sir..." You whispered in his ear.

    You reached for the back of the skirt to unzip it, but hongjoong stopped you.

    "I want you to ride me, with your pretty little skirt on."

    You stopped straddling him and turned around, so he could perfectly see your naked ass as you stripped from your underwear.

    Hongjoong pulled down his pants and underwear slightly, and started stroking himself at the sight.

    You went back to him and straddled the man once more, helping him by placing his tip at your entrance before lowering yourself down on him. He filled you up just perfectly, and you hid your moans by burying your face in the crook of his neck.

    "I wanna hear your pretty voice baby." He asked of you, while striking your head.

    He gripped your hips and started moving you up and down, slowly at first. When you got used to the feeling, you started bouncing on his cock willingly, and he only helped by jerking his hips up and hitting deeper spots.

    Hongjoong slapped your ass continuously, his strength increasing every time you slammed down on his dick.

    You gripped his shoulders tightly.

    "Fuck Hongjoong, I'm about to cum!" You whined.

    The man lifted your skirt, so he could see the way he looked fucking you, and it was a sight to see.

  "Shit, you're so beautiful..."

  One of his hands gripped your neck, applying some pressure to it.

   "Hongjoong fuck you're so good!"

   Hingjoong came at the little praise, his thick liquid hitting your walls, and the warm sensation inside you made you reach your climax at the same time. The room was filled with whimpers, moans and heavy breathing, as you both came and tried to calm down.

   Hongjoong delivered a loving kiss to your lips.

   "God, you're amazing Anne."

   Anne.

   That's when it hit you. You couldn't do this anymore. You couldn't keep lying to the boy, making him live in a false relationship. The feeling was truly real but Anne was just a character.

   You had to put an end to it... You couldn't handle doing it any longer. It hurt you to see the boy thoroughly happy and satisfied by a façade.

    You stood up and walked to the kitchen, while Hongjoong got dressed. You pulled out your Glock 19 from one of the drawers and rolled the silencer onto it, carefully as to not alarm Hongjoong. You wanted to do this peacefully, you didn't want him to know about your betrayal. However, just as you approached the bed he was sitting in from behind, you let out a sob, and he turned around to look at you.

   You hadn't even noticed you were crying. You hadn't even noticed the burning sensation in your throat and the stream of tears in your face, but you certainly felt as if your heart was being pulled out of you, and thrown in a fire.

   Hongjoong's worried eyes looked at your face, then at your hand, and back at your face. A sad smile formed on his face and he nodded. He didn’t look disappointed or hurt, just... sad and apologetic, like he understood the situtation.

   "It's about the cocaine, isn't it?"

   You bit your lip and nodded, like he had done.

   You approached him and aimed the barrel at his head.

    "Honggjoong I'm... I'm so sorry." The last few words came out as a whisper.

    "So am I..."

     Before you pulled the trigger, he opened his mouth to speak once more.

    "Can I... At least know your name? Please?" He begged.

    Although he tried to remain calm, his voice was shaky and his eyes were covered with tears that threatened to fall, sooner or later.

    "My name is Y/N."

     He smiled, for the last time ever, and looked you in the eye, peeling his stare away from the gun's barrel.

     "Y/N, you look beautiful tonight."

     He blinked, allowing one last tear to stroll down his cheek, his smile never leaving his angelic face, as you cried, and pulled the trigger.

    The silent bang made you collapse, immediately regretting what you had just done. You looked at Hongjoong, looking as beautiful as ever, even if he was bathing in his own bloof, and caressed his face, letting your tears stain his shirt, as you realized you had committed the biggest mistake in your life, but you had no choice.

    "I'm sorry Hongjoong, may we meet again, in our next life."

[littlemisswolfie]

Hope That You Fall In Love (And It Hurts So Bad)

Part II>

Somehow I never posted this here oops--

I’ve always loved @umisabaku ‘s Designation: Miracle fic series on Ao3, and I love to see a half-Canadian protagonist in anime because no one ever thinks being half-Canadian is cool, so I love Sk8: The Infinity, and I figured, hey! Why not combine them! And this happened.

TW for  mentions of child experimentation and torture, a scene where it is heavily implied Nanako trades sexual favors in exchange for custody of Langa, a few scenes where Langa has nightmares, a brief moment of Langa having a panic attack, non-graphic descriptions of Oliver developing liver cancer, discussions of death and funeral arrangements, a non-graphic scene of Oliver dying, and the beginnings of Langa's depression.

Ao3

Hasegawa Nanako didn’t quite know what she was getting into when she got contracted by a private company straight out of nursing school. She was young and trusting and desperate for money after her parents died and left her with their debts, and the recruiter from Teiko Industries handed her a quote that was three times the average pay for nurses, so she took the job. She signed the stacks of NDAs, went through with the extensive background checks and drug tests, and underwent a psych evaluation before she even stepped foot into the lab that would change her entire life.

She wants to quit as soon as she figures out what was really going on. Human experimentation, torture, training children to be assassins… the whole thing makes her skin crawl. But, again, she really needs the money. No other job she could get right out of school would pay enough to chip away at her parents’ debt and pay for her apartment and car and food. So, with a heavy heart, she shows up for her shift five nights a week, and she’s assigned to the hospital ward that cared for Generation Infinity.

They’re the youngest generation so far. Eight years younger than Generation Miracle, which, Nanako learns from a particularly chatty coworker, was the most successful Generation by far. “They’re almost all Successes,” the other nurse says, cheery, like they’re talking about some sports game or a litter of kittens instead of living, breathing children. “They just had to scrap O394, but the others are all still promising. Well, maybe not B452, but still. That’s six out of fourteen! Imagine that.”

Nanako doesn’t want to imagine that. The thought makes her stomach churn. The casual talk of killing children…

“Maybe Infinity will be even better!” the coworker chatters on. “If our Orange Three can actually fly… think they’d give us a raise?”

*

The Project she sees most often during her shift is GI-B423.

Nanako knows there isn’t much hope for him. He’s only two years old, but he’s barely developed even the slightest invisibility. He doesn’t even display any Latent Overflow, which was supposed to be inherent in every Project. The scientists still make him wear the shock bracelets (horrible things, Nanako wanted to rip them off of him with her bare hands) and still send him to that torture chamber they stole from Orwell, but he’s already a Failure in their eyes.

To Nanako, he’s a baby. He’s tall for his age, with curious eyes and an unfillable stomach and a wonderful smile when she could wrench one out of him. He winds up in the hospital ward so often because of his reckless behavior. He tries to copy everything the other Projects do, particularly GI-O376’s jumping and GI-B531’s speed, and even when he doesn’t hurt himself trying something stupid, his heart rate elevates and he gets shocked.

“You should be more careful,” she says to him one night as she patches up a scratch he got when he scraped  his arm on the wall of his cell trying to touch the ceiling. “I’d hate to see them hurt you for being reckless.”

Those eyes, too smart for a toddler, stare into her soul. “You’re worried about me?”

“Yes.” There’s no use denying it. Even if she didn’t care too much about this child who will probably be killed by the time he’s ten years old, it would be cruel to deny caring for a boy this young. And maybe she’s selfish, for feeling like this about GI-B423 and not the other children, but the scientists care about them plenty. They are Successes.

GI-B423 will never be a Success. So she has to care about him, because no one else will.

*

Nanako quickly comes to realize she’s one of the only people in Teiko that thinks of the Projects as human. This lets her see things no one else does.

So, a few years after she starts working, she notices GM-B425 is planning something.

She’s sure he’s fooling the others. The scientists and doctors and contractors think of these children as weapons, unfeeling, unthinking save for their direct orders. The Miracle Projects are generally allowed free reign of the facility as long as they stay out of the private offices and labs, so Nanako will take her time at the vending machines to watch them, and she notices the way GM-B452 watches everyone else. He’s the closest thing to a Success a Black will ever be, Nanako has heard, but he’s still going to be scrapped soon.

Nanako knows what desperation looks like.

She makes a choice.

*

“Let me get this straight,” says Honda-san, the director of Generation Infinity. He’s an older man, probably pushing sixty, with graying black hair and dark, mean eyes. He’s watched her with a predatory gaze from the first time they met when she first started. Nanako’s always known she’s a pretty woman, one of the few things her mother gave her, so it wasn’t like she was unused to attention from old, greasy men. “You want to resign, and instead of a severance package, you want to take GI-B423 with you?”

“Yes, sir.” Nanako’s wearing her best dress (and if it’s cut just low enough to be flattering, well, that’s just a bonus) and she did her make-up and she is being as polite as she can possibly be. “I’ve made more than enough money here to pay off my parents’ debts, and I was never cut out for work like this in the first place, so I see no reason to continue in my current position when you could hire someone more suited for the role.” She’s been saving since the day she started working. She never eats out, she doesn’t go out drinking, and she takes five minute showers. She’s debt-free, with savings to spare.

“And GI-B423?” Honda-san leans forward on his hands, his wrinkled brow furrowing further. “What use could he have to you?”

Nanako inhales and brings a hand to her stomach. “I’ll never be able to have children,” she says, the truth burning her throat. “I had to get a hysterectomy due to my endometriosis. I’ve come to care for GI-B423 as my own child, and you know as well as I do that he’ll never be a Success. If anything, he’s more noticeable than the other members of his Generation. Why spend the resources continuing to believe he’ll develop the abilities you would need him to? Why dissect him as if anything about him could better future Projects?” The words sting, tasting sour in her mouth. She hates saying these things about GI-B423, but it’s what she needs to do. “If you can get him on my family register, that’s all I ask. We’ll leave the country, and you’ll never hear from us again.”

Honda-san makes a considering noise, and, after a moment, he places his hand on her bare knee. His wedding band glints in the overhead light. “I might be persuaded.”

Nanako tries to smile.

*

Later that night, as Nanako is slipping her dress back up over her shoulders in the room of the love hotel Honda-san rented for the evening, Honda-san says, “What name did you want for him?”

“Langa,” Nanako says. “His name is Hasegawa Langa.”

*

Langa is confused, at first. “Where are we going?” he asks Nanako when she loads him and his meager belongings into her car. He’s never been out on a mission, so this is probably the first time he’s ever seen a car. “Does R0132 know where I am? He’ll get mad if I’m not at training.” He rubs at his wrists, finally free of those awful shock bracelets, like he can’t believe they’re gone.

“I don’t work here anymore,” she tells him. “I quit. Do you know what adoption means? It means I’m going to take care of you from now on.”

“So… I don’t live here?”

“No. And you’ll never have to do training again, or wear your shock bracelets, or go to Room 101. You can eat as much as you want. And you have a name.”

“A name?”

“Yes. Your name is Hasegawa Langa. You’re my son, now, and I’m your mother, and that means I’ll love you and take care of you for the rest of your life.”

Langa blinks. Then, he says, “Okay,” and he lets her buckle him in.

*

Two days later, they’re on a plane to Canada.

*

A month after that, nestled in their new apartment in Squamish, Nanako holds Langa in her lap and they watch, together, as Generation Miracle escapes from Teiko.

“Will they come for us, Mom?” Langa asks.

She squeezes him around the middle, perhaps a little too tight. “No, honey. As long as we keep our secret a secret, we’ll be fine.”

 Nanako hopes she’s right.

*

The military never ends up knocking on their door, and Nanako thanks God for small mercies. She and Langa are doing everything they can to blend in, like normal immigrants. Nanako’s working at a nursing home, and Langa is enrolled at the local Catholic school, and they both attend Mass on Sundays and Wednesdays. Nanako makes friends with the other women in the apartment building and she tells them all that Langa’s father got her pregnant and walked out on her, so that’s why he’s not in the picture, and Langa dutifully goes along with the sentiment when asked. Langa isn’t making a lot of friends, and that would worry Nanako, but mostly she’s glad that it means there’s no danger of Langa accidentally telling a kindergartener with no filter about his time at Teiko.

He still gets nightmares, sometimes. Nanako never saw the inside of Room 101, and she wishes Langa never had, either. She never let him see the press images of how the JSDF found Teiko when they went hunting for the scientists, because that would only make the fear worse. Hell, she woke up in the middle of the night sometimes, catapulted out of a dream of fire and screaming, bloody children, guilty that she couldn’t save the rest of them, guilty that she only loved Langa and not the others, and she’ll never make Langa feel that, too. He has enough on his shoulders as it is.

Then, for Langa’s first Christmas outside of Teiko’s walls, Nanako uses up all the PTO she’s saved and they take a trip to a ski lodge, and there they meet Oliver Campbell.

*

Oliver, as it turns out, also lives in Squamish, as he tells Nanako one night over boozy hot chocolate after Langa has been put to bed. “I’m a firefighter,” he says, “though, when I was younger, I wanted to be a pro snowboarder.”

“I could never,” Nanako laughs. “That’s a little too dangerous for me.” Then, because the alcohol makes speaking secrets easier, she says, “Langa would probably love it, though. He’s always been an adrenaline junkie.”

Oliver looks surprised. “He seems like such a quiet kid.”

“Oh, you should’ve seen him when he was—when we still lived in Japan. Scrapes and broken bones everywhere.”

“Well, then, he’s lucky he had such an amazing mother to patch him up.”

Heat floods Nanako’s cheeks. “What good would my nursing license do if I couldn’t even take care of my own kid?”

“And… Langa’s father?”

“Not in the picture. It’s just the two of us.” Please don’t ask anymore, she begs. There’s something about Oliver that makes her want to be completely honest, and that could end very, very poorly.

“Ah,” he says, instead, “I’m sorry about that. Wherever he is, he’s really missing out.”

Nanako thinks of Honda-san, of his leer and his sweaty hands and his potbelly dragging against her back, and says, “We’re better off without him, trust me.”

*

The next day, Oliver starts teaching Langa how to snowboard. Just like Nanako thought, he takes to it like a fish to water, and even when he falls, the snow cushions his landing, so he just laughs and jumps right back up to try again. She watches from the sidelines and smiles, feeling warm, because this is what Langa deserves. He deserves to be a normal kid.

*

“When are you guys going home?” Oliver asks over dinner one night, a few days into their stay at the ski lodge. They’re having breakfast for dinner, a phenomenon Langa was very pleased to learn about, and Nanako ordered him three helpings of Eggs Benedict.

Langa is too busy shovelling peameal bacon into his mouth like he’s never eaten in his life to answer, so Nanako says, “Boxing Day. We don’t have any family in the area, so we’re just doing Christmas here.”

Oliver leans back in his chair. “That reminds me! Why did you guys move here, anyway? If you don’t have family here, I mean.”

Langa only barely doesn’t tense up, and Nanako promises to give him extra dessert for his restraint. “We needed a fresh start,” Nanako says. “I got pregnant with him while I was still in nursing school, and by the time I graduated, my parents had both died, and I got saddled with their debts. We stayed in Japan long enough to pay the debts off and save enough money to move, and we just… left. Where we went didn’t matter much, honestly, as long as it wasn’t Japan.”

“Your English is pretty good,” Oliver notes. He genuinely just sounds curious. “Both of you, actually. If I didn’t know you were immigrants, I would think English was Langa’s first language.”

Langa swallows a huge mouthful of English muffin and egg and says, “I know French, too! And some other languages.”

Nanako takes back her internal promise of extra dessert as Oliver’s eyebrows migrate up towards his hairline. “That’s very impressive,” he says. “Where’d you learn all those?”

Langa shrugs. “Around.”

“We learn English all throughout school, in Japan,” Nanako cuts in. “When I knew we were going to move abroad, I taught Langa, too. And he started teaching himself French when we decided on Canada. He’s a quick study when it comes to languages.” Oliver still looks a little unsure, so she rushes to change the subject. “When are you leaving the lodge, Oliver?”

“I’m checking out of my room on Christmas Eve. My parents always throw a big Christmas party at their cabin in Princeton every year, with all the aunts and uncles and cousins. It’s a riot, especially when we play Pass the Ace.”

“Pass the Ace?” Langa asks. “What’s that?”

A playful glint enters Oliver’s eye. “Oh, Langa, my boy, do you have any loonies on you?”

*

The three of them spend the next few days together. Langa wakes Nanako up as soon as the sun rises and they go downstairs to meet up with Oliver, who spends the rest of the morning teaching Langa how to snowboard. Then they go to the bunny slopes to toboggan, and at night, they eat dinner together, and Oliver and Nanako stay up long after Langa goes to bed to drink and talk.

Nanako’s surprised at how easy it feels to be around Oliver. Even before she started working at Teiko, her dating life wasn’t exactly active. Sure, she’d hooked up with a few guys in college, and she had a boyfriend in high school, but there was never a connection, not like this.

“Here,” he says, the night of the 23rd, “let me give you my number.”

“Really?” Nanako asks, even though she’s already pulling her phone out of her pocket.

Oliver gives her a confused look. “Yeah? I mean, unless you didn’t want to meet up back in Squamish—”

“No, I do!” Nanako rushes to correct. “I do. It’s just… I mean, with Langa…”

“Hey.” Oliver reaches across the table to take one of her hands. “Langa’s a great kid. Any guy who got scared away by him isn’t worth the time of day. I like you, and I like Langa, and I would love nothing more than to get to know the both of you better, if you would allow it.”

Nanako flushes again. She likes this feeling, like someone is looking at her and seeing her and still liking it. She knows she shouldn’t, that Langa’s secret could be in jeopardy if she gets too close to the wrong guy, but she can’t help it. “I think I will,” she says. “Langa would probably never forgive me if I took his snowboarding teacher from him.”

And Oliver laughs, and it’s one of the most beautiful sounds she’s ever heard, right under Langa calling her “Mom.”

*

She and Oliver start officially dating not too long after Christmas. He’ll come to the nursing home with Tim Hortons when she’s working twelves, and he picks Langa up from school and helps him with his homework, and he invites the two of them over for dinner at least twice a week because he knows Nanako is often too busy to cook. When it comes time to celebrate Langa’s birthday, Oliver buys him a brand new snowboard, and Langa throws his arms around his neck and chants “thank you”s into his hair.

He brings them to his parents’ cabin for Victoria Day, and his family is just as kind as him. His nieces and nephews do their best to include Langa in their games, but they don’t push when she shies away and hangs out by the buffet table instead, and his mother, Barbara, hugs Nanako like she’s an old friend rather than a stranger.

“Hey, Langa, wanna swim?” Oliver’s dad, Ray, asks, gesturing to the small pond nearby. Some of the other kids are already splashing around in it, and it is getting warm, so it’s no wonder he’s suggesting it.

Nanako tenses, but Langa just shakes his head. “I don’t swim very often,” he says in that serious way of his, and she releases the breath she was holding. She’s never taken him swimming since she adopted him, because she can’t be certain no one will see the GI-B423 brand on his upper thigh. He doesn’t have many scars, other than the faint ones around his wrists he usually wears long-sleeved shirts to bulky bracelets to cover up, but that one in particular would be very hard to explain away.

Oliver gives her a curious look, but she just shrugs like she’s seen other parents do when their kids are acting weird, and he gives her that lopsided smile and everything is okay again.

*

A month later, Nanako terminates the lease on her and Langa’s apartment, and they move their things into the small house Oliver owns. Langa’s a little confused about why Nanako says he can’t sleep with her as often as he used to now that they’re living with Oliver, but he doesn’t complain. After her, Oliver is his favorite person in the whole world.

*

They go to the ski lodge again for Christmas, and Langa barely stays off the slopes the whole time. He’s only seven now, but he snowboards better than people three times his age and with a decade more experience.

“He’s a prodigy,” Oliver says, watching him jump a worryingly high way into the air. “He could go pro.”

Nanako hopes he doesn’t. She doesn’t want him to attract too much attention to himself. “Maybe,” she says. “But he’s a little too spacey for that, I think.” Oliver laughs and puts an arm around her waist, letting her melt into his side. “Maybe.”

*

That Christmas, surrounded by the Campbell clan, Oliver gets down on one knee and asks Nanako to be his wife. Nanako can see Langa over Oliver’s shoulder, bobbing his head up and down like a bobblehead, and she lets out a wet laugh and says “yes.”

*

It’s a quiet wedding, at the cabin in Princeton, with just Oliver’s family and some of Nanako’s friends from work. They include Langa in all of their wedding photos, and he hugs Oliver and calls him “Dad” and Oliver almost cries.

This is it, Nanako decides. This is all she needs. Her husband and their son and the life they’ve made for themselves.

As long as no one finds out about Teiko.

*

Langa’s been very good about keeping it all a secret. He never talks about Teiko, or his Generation, or the powers that should have developed but never did. He doesn’t take his bracelets off around anyone, even Oliver, and when he has his nightmares, he quietly wakes Nanako up so she can slip out of bed and comfort him until he falls back to sleep.

Things aren’t perfect, but they work.

Until Generation Miracle is put back into the spotlight.

*

Nanako studiously never brings up the Miracles. Sometimes people will ask if she has an opinion on them, and she always says no. If a news segment is playing and talking about them, she’ll change the channel or turn the TV off. It’s been harder to ignore all the media attention lately, since Teiko’s more insidious designs are suddenly being brought to light. She’s not sure who is suddenly talking, or why, but she’s more than happy to bury her head in the sand and pretend it doesn’t concern her.

Until one day, when she gets home from work, and sees Oliver and Langa sitting on the couch and watching as a teenage boy with light blue hair and a calm fury Nanako only ever saw in one person says, “All we have ever wanted to do is be free.”

Nanako lunges for the remote to change the channel. Oliver squawks in surprise, but she kneels in front of Langa, who’s sitting rigid, like a stone, and takes his hands and says, “Are you okay, sweetie?”

He nods robotically, and she winces. He’s retreating. That’s not good. “Hey, baby, breathe for me, okay? In for four, hold for five, out for six. Just like we used to.”

Langa sets about his breathing exercises, and Oliver stands up, looking more concerned than she’s ever seen him look. “What’s going on? He got all quiet as soon as that news segment started.”

“Oliver, it’s a long story—”

“If my son is having a—a panic attack, or something, I think I deserve to know why!”

This is what she’s always dreaded. She has to come up with something. If she brushes him off, he’s just going to keep digging, but if she says something too complicated, she won’t remember what she said later and it will bite her in the ass. I shouldn’t have gotten him involved, she thinks, mournfully, already picturing the divorce proceedings and custody battle and Langa missing the only father he’s ever known. I knew it was too risky.

“GI-B423.” Langa gasps, and Nanako whips her head up towards him.

“Langa—” she starts, panic rising in her chest, at the same time Oliver says, “What?”

“My designation,” Langa says, he’s still clearly upset. “GI-B423. The twenty-third Black Four Project in Generation Infinity. Failed experiment. GI-B423…” He continues muttering, clearly back in that awful place, and Nanako throws her arms around him.

“Shh, baby,” she coos, rocking him back and forth, feeling him tremble against her. “That’s not you anymore, remember? You’re Hasegawa Langa. You’re eight years old, you’re in year three, and you live with your mom and dad in Squamish, British Columbia.”

She repeats this mantra a few times, drowning out Langa’s, until he stops trembling so much. His little hands grip her scrub top like she’s a liferaft in the middle of the ocean. She’s no stranger to this feeling; most of his nightmares result in a similar embrace. Her neck is damp from his tears and snot, but she keeps on rocking him, letting him cry himself out until he falls asleep.

Throughout it all, Oliver watches, silent.

*

Nanako carries Langa to bed and tucks him in for an impromptu nap, and braces herself for the awful conversation she knows she has to have.

Oliver is still sitting on the couch, silent, staring at the wall behind the TV. “Well,” he says, before Nanako has a chance to say anything, “a few things make more sense now.”

“Oliver…”

He looks at her, meeting her worried gaze, and sighs, opening his arms. She falls into his embrace readily, collapsing against his side. In his arms, she feels safe, like nothing can touch her here. “Tell me your story,” he says, playing with her wedding band, and she does.

*

Nanako won’t say things are perfect after Oliver learns Langa’s secret, but they’re certainly easier.  

Now, when Langa has his nightmares, he can crawl into bed in between his parents and not have to worry about revealing anything he shouldn’t. Oliver’s always been better at calming him down, too, so having his help in soothing Langa’s nightmares is a huge deal. Nanako doesn’t have to be on the lookout for evil scientists or government agents all on her own anymore, now that Oliver is also keeping an eye out.

The three of them sit on the couch together to watch the coverage of the Special Diet, and when the Miracles are declared not dangerous, Nanako almost cries.

Maybe they can finally be free.

*

And so, the years pass.

Things are never perfect. They wouldn’t have been perfect if Langa wasn’t a genetically engineered child designed to be an assassin, but even then, things are a normal amount of imperfection. Langa still has trouble connecting with kids his own age, but not in a weird way, just a kid way. Nanako and Oliver have their odd disagreements, though they never go to bed angry. Oliver goes out drinking with his coworkers from the fire station more often than Nanako would like, but he never drives drunk and never gets angry or abusive, so she doesn’t try to make him stop. They get enough money to buy a larger house just outside of Squamish, and Nanako starts up a garden in the backyard in the spring and summer. In the winter, they spend more and more time on the mountain as Langa falls more in love with snowboarding.

And he does love snowboarding. He’s always pushing himself to go faster, jump higher, do more. Nanako is nervous that he might want to go pro, but he never brings the possibility up. He just wants to snowboard with his dad. He doesn’t care about the money or the glory or anything else. As long as he has his board and the snow and Oliver, he’s happy.

And then Oliver gets his diagnosis.

*

It starts small. He’s less hungry than he used to be, “But your food is as delicious as it’s always been!” he says with a flirty wink. The fifteen-year-old Langa rolls his eyes.

Then, he starts losing weight. He was always fit, with not a lot of fat on him, so when he starts losing weight, Nanako gets concerned. “You’re not trying to diet or anything, right?” she asks, staring at his narrower chest.

He shakes his head. “I’m probably just getting old, honey. We didn’t get to go on the slopes much this winter. I’ll start jogging to get my muscle mass back up, if that’ll make you happy.”

Langa goes on these runs with him. He’s always been an active kid, since Teiko was training them to be super soldiers, so he always has too much energy. The extra activity is good for him.

Oliver, on the other hand, doesn’t benefit as much from their daily jogs. He keeps losing weight, and every once in a while, he complains of abdominal pain. “No, Nanako, I’m not going to the doctor,” he says when she gives him a worried look. “It’s probably nothing.”

Then, on Canada Day, Nanako is woken up when Oliver bolts out of bed to be violently sick in their ensuite bathroom and notices his skin is jaundiced, and the next day she packs up him and Langa and they all go to the hospital together.

*

Liver cancer.

Stage 4.

Treatment options.

Life expectancy.

Langa shuts down.

*

Oliver deteriorates quickly after that.

He’s in the hospital more often than not, and when he’s admitted two weeks before Thanksgiving, everyone knows it’s for the last time. Nanako and Langa are there as often as they can be, sitting with him and holding his hand and desperately trying to pretend he’s not about to leave him forever. The nurses even buy Langa a cake when the three of them all collectively forget his sixteenth birthday.

When Langa is at school or sleeping in the waiting room, Nanako and Oliver go over his will. He’s leaving everything to Nanako, of course, but he says she should let his cousins come and take a look at family photos after she decides what she wants to keep. He also writes a letter for Langa, but doesn’t let Nanako read it. “It’s for him,” he says. “He should be the first one to read it.

“I don’t want a funeral,” he tells her, voice weak. “Don’t spend your money on that. Don’t make Langa go through that. Cremate me and bury me next to my grandparents, and go out to lunch after.”

“Okay,” she says.

“I wish this wasn’t happening.” For the first time since he got his diagnosis, Oliver starts to cry. “I don’t want to leave you and Langa. I want to see him grow up and fall in love. I want to see your hair turn gray.”

“I want that, too,” she says. She grips his hand tightly and lets her own tears roll down her cheeks. “How am I going to do this without you?”

He tries to crack one of his crooked grins. “You’re a smart lady. You’ll figure it out.”

*

A few nights later, Nanako and Langa are woken in the middle of the night, and they rush to the hospital. They get there in time for each of them to hold one of Oliver’s hands as he takes his last breath.

*

Like Oliver wanted, he’s cremated and buried in Princeton, next to his grandparents in the Campbell family plot. His parents take them out for lunch at a Swiss Chalet, and Langa barely eats. He has the letter Oliver wrote him clenched in his fist. He hasn’t read it yet; the envelope is still sealed.

Nanako won’t push. He’ll read it when he’s ready.

*

They go up the mountain that winter.

Langa stands at the top of the slope and stares down it. He does this for twenty minutes, and walks back to the lodge.

*

“We can’t stay here,” Nanako tells Barbara a few weeks after Christmas. “It’s—it’s killing Langa, being  here without Oliver. He’s not eating, he’s barely sleeping…” She chokes back a sob, and melts into the warm embrace her mother-in-law offers her.

“You’ll always be family,” Barbara assures her. “Do what you need to do. We’ll always be here if you need us.”

*

“I’m thinking we should move back to Japan,” Nanako says to Langa later that night. She doesn’t really want to go back to Japan, but Teiko is gone. For good, now that the Miracles thwarted their attempt to build a new one near Hawaii not long after the Special Diet. There’s no reason not to go there, when that’s where they came from and the country in the world most comfortable with mutant children.

Langa, still blank, says, “Okay,” and then nothing else for the rest of the night.

*

They sell the house, find an apartment in Okinawa, say goodbye to the Campbells, and get on a plane to the country they fled almost ten years ago.

I hope I’m doing the right thing, Oliver.

[one-leaf-grimoire]

"illusion"

Chapter 18

Synopsis: The source of the corruption within the Grey Deer is finally revealed. MC accidentally reveals a secret.

Warnings: None! This is the SFW version! However, you can find the NSFW version of the chapter at this link. It has a few changed lines and an added spicy moment...

LINK TO FULL WORK

"The spell that attacked Alice didn't come from the General. It came from Captain Hervey."

...

...

There's literally no way that any of this is real. I didn't just hear those words come out of Julius's mouth, I can't have.

Captain Hervey..?

...

...

"All those wishing to recruit this examinee, raise your hands!"

Before any of the other captains can raise their hands, the one in the middle has already done so. My eyes widened a bit when I realized who it was: A big, scary man with a scar through one of his icy eyes. Yet, the smile on his face is warm, almost fatherly. It's none other than Captain Hervey, the Captain of the Grey Deer, the current number one Magic Knights squad. Despite all the odds against me, my plans worked, and my magic was enough to impress even him. Several of the other captains raise their hands as well, but I've already made my choice.

"I...I choose the Grey Deer!!!"

My heart swells with pride as I say those words. The other captains clap politely as Hervey lowers his hand, his grin widening. He gives me a thumbs up, and I know I've made the right choice.

Or did I?

"Good work today, Kiddo!"

The way Hervey ruffles my hair reminds me of my father.

No. My father would have never done the things Hervey did.

"You and Alice need to stop getting into trouble. I'm putting you in different rooms this time!!"

"Nooo, please Captain! We promise we won't fool around any more!"

"I've made my decision."

Yes... like a father, he could be harsh sometimes, too. But there was nothing malicious about it.

You killed Alice... you killed her...

"I'm not going to sit here and let a hysterical woman convince me to start tearing it all down because you got drugged at a bar! Take her away and talk some sense into her, please-"

All this time... did he have a hand in this?

Did he kill Alice to scare me out of his squad?

Why...

The air around me is freezing cold. Frost bites at the branches above us. But hot tears start rolling down my cheeks, burning into my skin.

Why would you choose me, Captain... if you were just going to try and push me out?!

"So... Is Hervey the culprit? Is he the one behind all these attacks?"

Elger is the first to speak. He only glances at me, swallowing awkwardly before leveling the question at Julius.

"...It looks like it." Julius's face softens a bit as he looks down at me, his arm pulling me closer into his side in an attempt to comfort me. I still can't speak or move, staring straight ahead as my mind desperately tries to process the meaning of all this. "He definitely isn't alone, either... you said there were two people involved in the first attack, correct?"

Finally, I react, nodding my head. "Why... why would he-"

"I don't know. But it doesn't matter. We have some proof now," Julius reminds me, rubbing my shoulder. He has a pained look on his face. "That being said... we need to figure out who the others are as well, before it's too late."

Elger's eyes widen. "Julius, you're not suggesting that we-"

"We wait? Yes, I am." Julius shakes his head a little. "It's frustrating, I know... and dangerous as well. Hervey has essentially already killed someone on the squad, and he might be making a more drastic move soon. But he's not doing it all himself, and we have no way of knowing if he is actually the epicenter of all this. All the uncertainty around his accomplices needs to be put to rest as soon as possible... then we can report all of them at once and completely purge the squad of them."

...purge...

The longer Julius talks, the angrier his voice gets. His brow furrows, and his grip on me tightens until it is almost painful. I bite my tongue and stay silent, but my heart is pounding uncontrollably.

Julius... he's seen this type of thing before, hasn't he?

"A squad captain harming his own knights... turning other members against you... I don't care what the reason is. It's unforgivable."

For a moment, his rage flares up, despite the low, level tone of his voice. I can see it in his eyes, in his face, in every part of him.

Someone special was taken from him before... he won't let it happen to me.

"Julius..."

He snaps out of it and looks down at me as I gently pry at his grip with pleading eyes. "Oh! Sorry, sorry-" He quickly becomes gentle again, smiling down at me warmly. "I didn't mean to scare you... but you shouldn't be frightened. Both of us are going to be scouring the squad, I'm sure we'll figure it out soon enough." Elger nods, smiling at me for the first time today as his friend keeps speaking. "I won't let anyone hurt you again, okay?"

Slowly, I nod, drawing in a shaky breath. "Yeah... okay. Thank you. Thank you both."

There's not much to say after that. The three of us head back to the base. Elger branches off to go through a different entrance while Julius and I go through the back door by the kitchen. His hand stays in mine all the way until we step across the threshold. The entire world is still fuzzy, the shock of this new evidence slow to drain from my mind. I don't want to believe it, but at the same time, I know I have to move forward.

Julius is right... we'll purge the squad all at once. I'll get my revenge... and finally end this horror.

Someone calls my name as we walk through the dining room, and I turn to see Nigel, Wren, Malota, and Margery sitting there with drinks.

"I never got to congratulate you!" Nigel calls out, already red in the face from his beer. "Senior Magic Knight, huh? I was hoping to surpass you!"

"Oh... well..." I give him a strained smile. "You still have time. I'm not really that good."

"Nonsense!!!" Margery smirks. "You defeated a SHINING GENERAL!!! And all his men!! that's impressive, even I will admit!"

I feel my heart clench in my chest.

"Yeah... you kicked ass alright. How did you do it, though?"

Glassy, dead eyes-

"I never thought you were that strong... so how did you defeat them-"

"I didn't just defeat them."

My words are quiet when I finally speak again, but something in my tone makes Margery shut up immediately. She blinks, her eyesight coming into focus, and she sees the blank expression on my face.

"I... I killed them. I killed all of them at once."

Nigel gulps nervous. Malota watches silently. Wren stares at his drink, apparently in a drunken daze already.

"They tried to hurt me... and I killed them. People with lives... with families-"

"DADDY-"

The look of fear in the General's eyes as I made him hear his daughter scream. I have no doubt that he saw her die in my Fear Landscape.

"But that doesn't matter. They tried to hurt me, so I killed them. And I'll do it again."

My hands are shaking by my sides, the others watching in horror as tears streak down my cheeks.

Wren finally looks up, his eyes glassy. Yet, they rise to meet mine, devoid of all feeling as my passion reaches a fever pitch.

"I don't care who it is. I'll kill anyone who tries to hurt me."

...

Silence.

Margery stares at me, while Nigel glances at the others. Malota blinks slowly, swallowing once to give her only reaction. Wren groans and lets his forehead hit the table as he finally slips off to sleep.

Julius touches my shoulder.

"Come on."

His voice is soft and gentle. I sniff once, then nod before turning to be lead away.

Any of them... any of them could have known-

My eyes are stinging as more tears form, and I finally choke out a dry sob as I ascend the stairs to my room, Julius right behind me. Any of them could have known about what was going to happen to me and Alice... my comrades that I loved and trusted did NOTHING. Why... why would they betray me like this? After all these years...

None of it makes sense. Julius opens my door for me, and I grab his sleeve to pull him inside as well as I walk by. The door clicks shut behind us. Julius stands there, a little awkwardly, as I reach up and undo my robe and cape, kicking them both under the bed. With a tired sigh, I flop forward onto the mattress, feeling it creak below me. I hold my breath for a moment, my face buried in the blankets, and let my mind go blank for just one blissful moment.

God... why does everything have to be so complicated?

Just as I thought everything was going to be okay... just as I freed myself from one danger, another one rears its head.

At least I don't have to worry about Lawrence any more...

I feel the bed dip beside me, and an arm wrap around my middle. I let Julius turn me over and pull me into his embrace, and I finally inhale as my nose nestles against his neck.

He smells so good... like lavender... and vanilla...

His hand cards through the strands of my hair, as gently as he always does.

Gentle...

No one has ever been this gentle with me.

"It'll be okay... I promise."

Julius's soft voice murmurs against my head, his lips pressed into my scalp.

"I'll end this for good. I promise."

...

"Julius..." I finally speak, keeping my voice low. It hasn't escaped me that Elia and Cecelia's room is right next door. "You said that this has happened before... this same thing happened to someone special to you." I feel Julius tense up a little at the subject. "...what happened?"

"... His name was Zara Ideale. He was the very first commoner to join the Magic Knights. he wasn't just amazing..." Julius lets out a deep sigh. "...he was an inspiration. The entire world was out to get him, and he still smiled and did his best. I could never hope to be like him... he was special."

... ooh... I see... so he wasn't just a "friend." I can't help but think back to that cold, snowy new years eve, and Julius stared out into the darkness, pain and guilt tumbling in his gaze.

He was devastated.

"He was special. And they killed him for it."

I open my eyes, face-to-chest with Julius, and listen as his tone becomes icy again.

"His own squad killed him. The captain looked the other way. No remorse, no guilt..."

His hand suddenly tightens in my hair; not painfully, more... possessively.

"... Everyone is special, in their own way. But Zara... he was special to me. I don't know how I can still look at myself in the mirror. Why do we laud the position of Magic Knight when we use that power to hurt each other? So..."

Julius's grip loosens, but he pulls me even closer, his legs tangling with mine, as if he means to coil himself permanently to my body.

"I'll use this power to protect everyone. I'll protect you. I'll protect the whole Kingdom. I-...I'm going to become the Wizard King. This world will be one where everyone can be special... and we all work together instead of hurting each other."

...Wizard King?

For some reason, those words send a chill down my spine.

"...I know you can do it, Julius."

I shift a little, looking up at him. Julius's eyes widen as I lean up and press my lips against his chin lightly, the highest place I can reach in our position. "And I believe you... I feel safe with you. Thank you... for everything."

"No. Thank you." Julius lets out a nervous chuckle, something I didn't expect. "You know... you're the only person that I've told that too... I've had that plan in mind for a while now, but saying it out loud was a little scary. But now-" He grins, rolling over so he can kiss me properly now.

"- I feel like I could accomplish anything. Including becoming the Wizard King!"

.....

....

....

"What in the world is that supposed to be?!"

"Hmm?" I don't even have time to turn around as I brush my wet hair in front of the bathroom mirror. Someone grabs my shoulder. "Hey! What are you doing?" I twist my head a little to see that Margery is the one who's staring at something on the back of my neck. "Stop it!" I swat her hand away and quickly turn around, my back hidden now.

"Calm down- you just have something weird on your neck-" Margery says, looking annoyed but also sort of concerned. "Turn around, you might have some dirt or something."

"Dirt?" Elia pipes up, standing a few sinks away as she brushes her teeth. "You can't even take a bath correctly, huh?"

"Shut up-" I mumble, but begrudgingly turn back around. Her hand rubs vigorously at the spot, and I get a weird tingle down my spine. The spot is right where my neck and shoulder meet, and something about it is familiar-

Oh- SHIT-

"OOOOOO-" Margery realizes what it is the moment that I do. "You naughty bitch!!! You didn't tell me Lawrence came to visit!"

Once again, I swat her hand away and turn around, pressing my back against the tile wall. Everyone in the bathroom is staring at me now. Margery is smirking like the devil, and Elia has a shocked, perplexed look on her face. My own face is bright red, and I open and close my mouth a few times pathetically as I attempt to come up with an explanation. "I- uh-" How am I supposed to explain this?! Should I tell them that it's not Lawrence?? But then they might suspect that it's Julius now- AHHHH-

I want to curl up into a ball and scream, but both Margery and Elia are in my face, demanding answers.

"When was he here? You should have introduced him to the rest of us! He's always off somewhere with you when he visits-"

"Yeah, but we always see him when he arrives, just for a little while..." Elia says, narrowing her eyes. Uhoh- "Also... there's something that's been bothering me..."

"Oh... what?" Elia's question gives me a reason to dodge Margery's, but I soon realize that it is a big mistake.

Elia crosses her arms, her frown depending. "Your room is right next to me and Cecelia... it's been a week since you got back from the hospital. And every- EVERY night-" She points at me accusingly. "I wake up because I hear two voices talking in your room- and that can only mean one thing-"

Margery's eyes widen, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp. I gulp, panic starting to rise in my chest.

"-you're letting someone in there all night! Are you sneaking Lawrence in EVERY SINGLE NIGHT?"

"Uh- er-"

Elia's eyes flash, my unintelligible words being an admission of guilt to her ears. "AHA! So it's not Lawrence! Who is it, then?"

"N-Not Lawrence?!" Margery squeaks, still looking shocked, but her eyes are glinting from how juicy this new information is. "You're cheating on him?! Who is it, though? Someone on the squad?"

"Tell us!" Elia demands. "You owe us all an explain-"

"I don't owe you anything!"

I finally snap, unable to just sit there and be scrutinized. Elia immediately shuts up.

"I don't know how you don't realize this already- but none of it is any of your business!" I step away from the wall, and the others step back to give me space. "Yes, I've been having someone in my room... and yes, they foolishly gave me this hickey. But it's my private life, so it's private, okay?" I let out a sigh, my heart beating quickly with adrenaline. "So- just leave me alone! And for the record, Lawrence and I broke up when he visited me in the hospital. I'm not cheating on anyone."

That's all I have to say on the matter. With one last huff, I turn and run off, my hair only half brushed, and leave Margery and Elia behind.

"...yikes... they broke up?" Margery asks, the silence only broken by the dripping of the sink. "She doesn't seem too beat up about it..."

"No, not at all." Elia narrows her eyes, turning to look at her reflection in the mirror.

I have a feeling I know who it is... and if it is him... this has been going on for a lot longer. Since before she and Lawrence broke up... so...

An evil grin crossed her lips, for just a moment.

"You are going to be in so much trouble..."

UH OH! What is Elia planning... will her well-meaning actions lead to disaster? Find out next time!

[dame-mas-princesa]

ELECTRA HEART BY MARINA

1.) BUBBLEGUM BITCH

“Oh, dear diary, we fell apart. Welcome to the life of Electra Heart”

i cannot express to you how much i LOVE this album. it follows the life of electra heart and has many themes the main one being identity. even though this song says i’m YOUR bubblegum bitch it’s not even in a submissive way. it’s like i’m YOURS and you have no choice about it. this is a GREAT intro song to the roller coaster of a story we are about to follow.

2.) PRIMADONNA

“Get what I want 'cause I ask for it. Not because I'm really that deserving of it”

this is what i wanted, want, and will want to be. this is “BIG EGO!! BIG PERSONALITY!! ME ME ME ME!! ITS ALL ABOUT ME!!” the beginning of what will be a down fall which she references in “the primadonna life, the rise and fall” i didn’t give too much on what it means cause honestly with this album she is pretty straightforward and you can just tell what she is trying to convey. this song is a mf BANGER 10/10

3.) LIES

“You're too proud to say that you made a mistake. You're a coward till the end”

now we get into the deep shit. this song i fucking SCREAMED cried to. this reminds me of mitskis songs when it refers to not wanting to think of the bad when you know it’s hurting you. this is like the step after that. you are STILL trying to bargain but you also acknowledge that the person is an asshole. when i cried to this song, i really never thought i’d one day relate to it but. yeah. pretending that a relationship is going well is not a good solution.

4.) HOMEWREAKER

“I'm the image of deception”

again, electra heart is a story album. you are following a chain of events (she has music videos of them). in this song she talks about how all you want is trust, love, and laughter but you can’t escape the past. the relationship from the past three songs is what caused electra heart (the protagonist of this story) to start seeking revenge in hopes to have a brand new start. she is only happy ‘when i’m on the run’ she is only happy when she isn’t attached to that previous relationship.

5.) STARRING ROLE

“When you are not a starring role in someone else's heart”

oh but electra is still OBSESSED with the past relationship. this song goes well with the events of lies. the feeling of only being loved when you’re having sex or drunk. i also used to cry to this a lot. i have a horrible relationship with getting possessive and if i don’t get that main attention, i feel EXTREMELY upset. “you don’t love me, not a big deal. i’ll never tell you how i feel” just !!!!!!! it’s EXACTLY how i feel in regards to relationships. “sometimes i ignore you, so i feel in control. cause really i adore you and i can’t leave you alone.” as well. this song is just has mari written all over it.

6.) THE STATE OF DREAMING

“Yeah, I've been living in the state of dreaming. Living in a make-believe land”

THE EPITOME OF LIVING IN YOUR MADE UP SCENARIOS!!! this song is JUST THAT!!! living in a world that you have created because people can be so cruel and life is just hard. it isn’t real!! fuck that!!!!! this goes along with the wanting to live in a pretend world/ relationship.

7.) POWER AND CONTROL

“Think you're funny, think you're smart. Think you're gonna break my heart”

#girlbossmoment but like fr this is straight up “you have no power OR control over me” this also goes with sexist ideas that men have control over women and that women are weak. she states that all her life she has been controlled. BY MEN. jk idk,,, ANYWAYS yeah it’s the giving a little and expecting a lot because you are a man. “you may be good looking but you aren’t a piece of art” yes you might be a good person but you aren’t worthy of everything without a price. you can’t just stand there and expect everyone to admire you???

8.) SEX YEAH

“All this time was fighting for what I believe. All my life I've tried to hide what history has given me”

YEAHHH FUCKING BANGERRRR. i totally forgot this song existed. this song really talks about how history (mainly sexuality) has impacted us. women are seen as always submissive and used for sex and such BUT THERE IS SO MUCH MORE THAT THEY DONT TEACH YOU!!! historically women serve men but no longer BABES!! fight what history has given you!! the thought of what a woman SHOULD be. FUCK YEAHHH FEMINISM

9.) TEEN IDLE

“Ain't youth meant to be beautiful?”

undoubtedly marina’s most popular song. covers many topics such as su1*1de (gonna use ‘scd’ when referring to it) and eds. she wish she was the beauty standard, she wished she would’ve been a prom queen. she wish she had lived that ideal life of a teenager, a teen IDOL. never thought that one day I’D be sixteen and feeling super, super, super scd-al. she talks about her regrets of her adolescence. i should’ve taken this as a warning but it’s not done yet. we continue.

10.) VALLEY OF THE DOLLS

“Born with a void hard to destroy with love or hope”

she is living with identities that do not belong to her. this song basically covers how it is to adapt to each person. she is faking the person that she shows to everyone because in reality she feels like no one. there is a permanent void that cannot be filled with love or hope. she says “i am ready for the last hurrah” which y’all know is referring to death. she is not saying she wants it but that she is ready. she feels empty, there is nothing to preserve. not even herself because, once again, she doesn’t even know herself.

11.) HYPOCRATES

“So hypocritical, overly cynical. I'm sick and tired of all your preaching.”

this song i sadly relate to. someone you love preaching to you how you should do and what you shouldn’t be doing. telling you who to be!! though, i fall guilty to this as well. this song just resonates with one point of my life very well. someone telling you what you should and shouldn’t be and believing that they did no wrong. sigh, BUT all is good.

12.) HOW TO BE A HEARTBREAKER

nvm this is marinas most popular song. honestly. not many thoughts though i strive to one day be able to follow these rules hehehhehehehehehehehhehehehehe

13.) RADIOACTIVE

“Oh baby I want you to die for, for you to die for my love”

this song has mari written all over it too. this is “be obsessed with me” song. your heart is full at night and empty by the morning, you NEED ME. this is also the bad type of be obsessed with me. this is like be obsessed with me so that i can burn you. this is why her love is radioactive. burn to a crisp fuckerrrrr!! though at the end of the song she states “ready to be let down. ready for a meltdown” big uh oh

14.) FEAR AND LOATHING

“Baby you don't have to live your life in fear”

this is more of a recovery song from the meltdown from before. this is a song talking about you don’t have to live in your fears or IN FEAR of being hurt. you don’t need to feel anything really. this leads to numbness. she references her other songs “i’m tired of trying to having it all and ending up with not much at all” (power and control, starring role) she also states a sense of hope when she says “i know a light will burn on when they blow me out” there is that fiery hope deep inside her. i feel like this song really feels like a message to death or about death?

that’s the end. this album is GREAT and to really understand it you GOTTA follow along with the music videos that are made in parts so you know which follows what. 10/10 might do froot next

[kpopwrites]

Drowning in A Dream Chapter 4

 A/N: This one is rollarcoaster with some nerve wracking moments, sorry! Anyway, this is the second time I’ve written a chapter late at night, so I’m super sorry if there is any spelling or grammar errors! Taglist and requests are open!

TW: Possible smut in upcoming chapters, angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, slight gore

   The growl seemed to press pause on any and all activity in the room as Taehyung continued to literally growl at Jimin. “V, calm yourself.” Namjoon instructed calmly, taking a sip of blood red wine. “I won’t allow you to use them as another playmate. It’s bullshit.” V snarled, ignoring his older brother. Jimin smirked, obviously wanting to edge his younger brother on. “Oh? And why is that V? You don’t like that thought? What makes (Y/N) so different, hm?” He purred, reaching across the table and grabbing your hand, kissing it. This seemed to make V snap as he quickly grabbed Jimin’s wrist, holding it tightly. “Just one meal… One peaceful meal is all I ask for.” Yoongi grumbled. “(Y/N), I think it’s time you went to bed, it’s getting late and if you are planning on leaving tomorrow, you’ll need your rest.” Glancing nervously glancing between the two brothers, you decided to just listen to Namjoon, standing up and bidding everyone goodnight. Namjoon led you to the guest bedroom. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking straight forward as he walked. 

   You nod. “Why was V so upset? I mean, Jimin’s flirting is… a little much, but he’s harmless.” Namjoon seemed to choke on his laughter, obviously trying to hide the chuckle. “He’s far from harmless, we all are. Very foolish of you to completely trust your life with strangers, not that we would let harm fall upon you.” He hummed, opening the guest bedroom door. You blushed slightly. “Thanks…” You mutter awkwardly, looking around the room. There was a loud crash from the kitchen, causing your head to snap towards the sound. “What was that?!” You ask, worried. “Nothing, I’m sure Hoseok knocked something over on accident. He’s very excitable sometimes.” Namjoon shrugged before nudging you into the bedroom. “Good night.” He shut the door immediately. 

   You sighed, fiddling with the rather large tee shirt before laying down on the bed. “Goodnight to you too, I guess.” As you closed your eyes, the events of the day flowed through your brain, causing sorrow to fill your being. The more you thought about it, the worst you felt. What would your grandma have thought? Your brothers? Sure, you didn’t talk to them much, but they loved you… You know they did. Not to mention, your grandmother had always told you how important you were, how you were destined for so many things. If she had still been here, she would have slapped you for your attempt. But she wasn’t. She was gone, never coming back. Grieve consumed you as your eyes watered, thinking back on just how much she had done for you. 

   Carrie (Y/L/N) was a saint in your eyes, your savior. She had taken you in after your parents had disappeared, raising you along with your other adopted siblings with their own tragic stories. Not only had Carrie adopted four different orphans, but she also ran an animal shelter and donated any excesses money to anyone in need. When you would ask her why, she would simply explain how she would rather give others basic things than buy herself unnecessary things. “As long as we have each other, my precious babies, we don’t need anything else. I’m your grandma, I’ll always care for you.” Those words echoed in your head, causing a small sob to escape your lips. After wrapping your arms around yourself, you turned onto your side and tried to sleep. 

    You woke up the next morning from a hand gently shaking you awake. You opened your eyes, still red and swollen from your rough night. Jin stood above you, smiling happily. “Rise and shine! Wakey wakey! Up and at ‘em!” He yelled loudly, walking over and opening up the curtains, letting light flood into the room. You groaned, covering your eyes as you sat up. Jin hummed a soft tune as he set down your freshly washed and dried clothes. “Here, I washed them for you darling. Would you let me make you prettier?” His words seemed… different than how Jin normally sounded, making you slightly uneasy. Your grandmother's reassuring words floated around your head for a moment before you nodded. “Yes, I suppose so.” You whispered, yawning as you rubbed your eyes. 

   Jin grinned with delight, though the grin seemed slightly more mischievous than you had seen from him before. Your brain, just having woken up, didn’t seem to care, instead directing your sleep deprived body to follow Jin into his room. “You know, where I come from, they called me the most handsome man in the world.” He commented. “Then we moved here. People weren’t very accepting, calling us horrid names.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, watching the man as he gathered materials from his desk, keeping his back towards you. Small town racism wasn’t uncommon, but you had never seen nor heard of anything like that anytime recently. “I’m sorry. People can be so awful sometimes.” You whisper, keeping your eyes glued to Jin’s hands as they worked on opening many different drawers and containers.

   The man mumbled to himself in Korean, seemingly in an inner debate. “If you don’t want to waste any materials, you don’t have to.” You smiled softly, thinking that was his problem. Jin let out a hearty laugh, going back to normal within a split second. “No no no dear, just wondering how I could possibly improve an already perfect face.” Your cheeks lit aflame as you looked away. “Thank you.” You whisper, nervously toying with your fingers. “I mean it. Usually… usually I don’t like people being anywhere near as perfect as I am, but you’re different.” His voice got softer as he began to massage something into your skin. His breath hit your lips, making you blush even more. “V was right to protect you last night. I love my brother, but he is trouble… He’ll break your heart, maybe more if you aren’t careful.” He whispered, staring in your eyes for a moment. 

   The tension in the room was weighing heavily on you, your heart beating quickly as you locked eyes with Jin. “You’re so beautiful… Tell me, would you let me feel your lips on mine?” He whispered, leaning forward ever so slightly. The door slammed open as Hoseok walked in, pouting unhappily. “Ya! Why do you get to kiss (Y/N) huh!?” He yelled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Namjoon said the door has to be open. He doesn’t care if you give them a makeover, but you have to keep the door open. And no more of that, it’s not fair.” He huffed, leaving the door open behind him as he walked out. Jin sighed, looking down and shaking his head before he continued to apply various products to your now burning face. 

   “Oh well, maybe next time if you come to visit.” He said calmly, obviously not nearly as phased about the almost kiss as you were. “You will come to visit, won’t you?” Jin pouted out his lip, begging you with his eyes. “Everyone enjoys you so much, even the ones who don’t show it much. Namjoon, Yoongi and Jungkook seem cold, but they aren’t immune to your charms.” He mused. “Charms? I wasn’t trying to charm anyone… I was just trying to show my thanks.” You say, looking up as Jin carefully swiped mascara on. “Normally I would do a much heavier look, full of red and blues and blacks.” He smirked, knowing you wouldn’t quite understand what he meant. “However, you’re so naturally stunning, I don’t want to mess with it. I don’t understand why quite yet, but Namjoon is studying it.” You chuckle softly. “Namjoon is studying why you aren’t putting heavy makeup on me?” Jin let out a hum of amusement. “Something like that.”

   He reached over to his desk, carefully grabbing a hairbrush and styling your hair. It took another five minutes of fussing and pruning before he finally let you see. You were amazed by how Jin had transformed you. Your messy bed hair, perfectly styled to match the shape of your face. The dark undereye bags that plagued your face were seemingly non-existent. You reached up, touching your face in shock. “You should become a makeup artist Jin!” You praise, grinning. “No no, they don’t hire men my age.” He said, putting away his products. “I’ve seen makeup artists in their sixties.” You protested, trying to convince Jin on your idea. 

   The man laughed, shaking his head as he mumbled something in Korean under his breath. “Breakfast.” Namjoon called out, his voice not sounding strained despite the fact that it echoed throughout the cabin. You stood up, thanking Jin once more before going back to your own room to change. As you closed the door, you jumped, spotting Yoongi half asleep on your bed. “Yoongi, you startled me.” You hold your hand over your heart, sighing. “Sorry… I was just wondering if you’d like to nap with me before you left. It’s a long walk, and you’re going to need your strength.” He hummed, voice so rough and raspy it made your heartbeat speed up. 

   “Right now? Breakfast is ready.” You commented, making Yoongi frown slightly. “Oh? Say, (Y/N), what’s that in your eye, come here, let me see.” You furrowed your brows, leaning forward and looking into Yoongi’s eyes. Instantly, your limbs felt like cement and you longed for your bed like a baby longing for their mother. “You sure you don’t want a nap? You seem so tired…” His voice echoed in your head as he reached forward, slowly pulling you onto the bed and into his arms. Your brain, too flooded with the sudden need for sleep, didn’t even bother to question things as you snuggled against the man, closing your eyes and falling asleep within mere moments. 

Taglist:

@jennyjq​ @boy9wolf​   @slutkoo​ @flakeypancake​ @leftflowerprunedonut​ @vickylamore​ @elenaramos1​ @trinityautumn​ @blackgirlutopia​

[ellemcu]

Chapter 7

Words: 1584

Warnings: swearing

***********

You quietly groaned as your eyes fluttered open. There was a hard pounding in your head and your whole body was aching and burning. You slowly lifted your wrist only to be stopped by some chains. You quickly raised your head from the bed you were lying in, trying desperately to get off it. Your arms and legs had been strapped onto the floor and you were dressed in your black sports bra and your matching black shorts.

You started panicking, not remembering how you’d gotten here and what was going to happen. Flashbacks of old memories as a kid in HYDRA flooded your mind, drowning your every other thought. As a kid, you would often wake up in a room just like this. Handlers coming in the room and torturing you in all sorts of ways.

You whimpered quietly while you tried to get up from the bed, your whole body aching. You slowly stood up, the chains on your wrists starting to dig deep into your skin. You felt slightly lightheaded but you kept blinking it off, not trusting your surroundings. Your knees buckled and you crashed on the ground with a thud.

You were panting on the floor, slowly moving into a sitting position against the metal leg of your bed. You breathed heavily, trying not to fall unconscious.

After a while, your body started shaking violently. It had already happened at HYDRA after your body had gone through too much for it to handle which meant days of training non-stop.

It was very inconvenient because this was the most vulnerable position you had ever found yourself in and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. You lied down on the floor rocking yourself at a slow pace to stop yourself from shaking even more. Your breaths became uneven and you didn’t know how to stop.

After what seemed like hours of shaking the bolted door flew open and three men with white lab coats walked in, each carrying silver cases in their hands. You had horrible memories with scientists. Doctors had always taken their anger out on you, torturing you after you fell unconscious several times in a row, pushing your body over the edge after a brainwash, just because I couldn’t fight back.

You eyed them very closely, still shaking violently, while they came closer to you. Without saying a word they started taking out their shiny suitcases, long needles. You shook your head, trying desperately to back away from them. One of them grabbed your ankles, trying to stop you from shaking and another one grabbed the chain that was tied to your wrist, tugging at it harshly. You winced in pain “No” you whimpered, while another man had wrapped his hand around your throat. “ Please.” you whispered desperately, fighting against the man’s pull. “No…… no……. please…… no…… please…...stop” you begged, a tear falling from your eye. “Stop.” you whimper, not having enough energy to fight back.

The scientist was about to take a blood sample from you when a loud voice spoke. You were too busy being choked by one of the doctors to actually hear it but the doctor froze in his spot. “Hey dumb ass you heard her. Back off.” the male voice shouted. Two of the doctors immediately got up but the one choking you still kept his tight grip on your neck. “ You really sure you wanna do that? Huh?”: The man swallowed slowly and stood up, they grabbed their things and left the room in a hurry.

You breathed in quickly, your lungs finally getting fresh air. You coughed loudly and rubbed your hands on your wrists, trying to ease the pain. A tall man walked into the room after they were all gone. A tall man that you immediately recognized: James. You crawled as far away as your body and chains let you, trying to gain control over your body again.

He slowly walked towards you with his hands raised, showing that he wasn’t armed although you weren’t gonna fall for that trap again.

You closed your eyes, concentrating on your uneven breaths. After a few seconds you opened your eyes again, only to find yourself in a small room, surrounded by tall, black walls. You finally felt at peace, your body no longer aching, no more shaking. You felt your body completely freeze (idk it's like a coma but you’re in a different place its like your inside your mind. Idek if it makes sense. Stranger things for reference.) You calmed your panted breaths and regained your brain’s control.

You woke up with a jolt. James' face was covered with a confused look. “What have you done?” you snarled. “Listen, I know what you’ve been through but-” he answered calmly, but you quickly interrupted him, scoffing at his words. “ Boy, you have no fucking clue.” you mumbled. “Listen Y/n you may not know who I am because they never made us meet. They were too afraid. We would have been unstoppable together” he replied, closing his eyes as if he was trying to forget something. “ Uh uh. Sure. I’ll take that.” you answered back, not wanting to piss him off because this was the longest conversation you had ever held with someone and you were dying to see where it was going to end. “If you’re going to hurt me, could you please use one of the first 12 methods, I’m really tired of counting new ways to torture me after 1682.” you whispered knowing that HYDRA handlers couldn’t care less but what you didn’t know was that with Bucky’s super-hearing he had heard every single word and his heart broke.

As the Winter Soldier he had heard so much about you. They constantly compared her to him which amazed him greatly, he had heard that she was unbeatable, unpredictable and impossibly well trained. No one survived your missions. Ever. He had also found out that HYDRA’s men took pleasure from touting her, brain washing her and training her for hours non stop until she would faint 6 / 7 times. They forced her to go unconscious to take advantage of her. He was absolutely disgusted.

He had been through a lot and getting out of that infinite hole had been extremely hard but you had been through way more and for a longer period of time, getting out of it alive was going to be a hard challenge.

“What do you mean?” he questioned gruffly, determined to not show too many emotions, knowing you were able to manipulate any living thing. You didn’t say anything back, scared for your own safety, knowing too well a harsh beating would be coming soon. “You are going to stay here,” he announces. “And I’m going to help you.” You looked at him with wide eyes. Sometimes the moment in which after 20 years you were finally going to be free. Finally eat a full meal, walk outside, drink water without having to worry if its poisoned or not. That thought had ran across your mind a few times, briefly though before being cut off and silenced by brainwashing.

You scoffed silently “Yeah sure why would you wanna do that huh? Why would you wanna help a fucked up, high-skilled assassin like me?"You looked straight into his steel blue eyes. “ Because why not? I mean we’re all messed up here. What difference will one more fucked up person make?” He answered back, offering his hand out to you to help you stand.

You quickly stood up but lost your balance so you ended up putting your whole weight on the nearest wall. “What did you put in me?” you whispered, more to yourself rather than him. “It's to help you with all the drugs they fed you. It's supposed to bring back your strength.” He shrugged. “This burns like hell.” you whimpered, stretching your numb legs. You wiggled your wrists, showing him the chains you were still tied to. He nodded and the chains crumbled to the ground. You both made your way out of the room and found yourself walking across an empty corridor. “What's up with everything?” you questioned, not understanding why the corridor was so homey-looking. “Oh, don’t worry we just thought you’d wanna be with someone you trust at first and… um I guess as I’ve been in a similar situation, I wanted to help you too”. He answered calmly. You looked at him deeply “I guess they’re all fucking terrified of me aren't they?” He didn’t answer you. “Well I wouldn’t blame them” you mumble under your breath. “And um what makes you think I trust you?” You question with a cold stare. “Why aren’t you scared of me?” you questioned quietly.

The man walking beside you was different. His way of thinking amazed you. It was different. He didn’t see you as a poor captured girl, a very mentally unstable woman with a very insane mind. Not a girl with severe PTSD and anxiety nor a highly trained assassin with no backstory except HYDRA.

“Nothing scares me anymore. Besides I don’t see why I should be afraid of you:” He answered slowly, a small smirk making its way on your face.

"We'll see about the trust thing dude"

**************

I am truly so sorry that I've kept you waiting for so long. A lot has happened and I really couldn't keep on writing. I've missed it tho lol. I hope this makes up for it. This wasn't exactly what I was going for but I don't really hate it so I'll just go with the flow and idk we'll see. Oh and if you have any suggestion for what could happen please don't hesitate to text me!!!

Elle