#and instead getting that blamed on our clothing choices when... its happened no matter what we wear

[brinesystem]

our mom trying to convince us we're white when the main 'white' traits we have are being pale (after staying indoors for over a decade due to being complimented on how pale we were for years) and our hair being light when we were younger (which comes from the non-white side ironically) is really weird

but it also did a lot of actual damage weirdly enough in that we can't tell who's white half the time and who's not?

because we were told all these traits were 'white' traits, and now are learning that we really... don't look white to other poc? but because we were told we do by the mom and by white people, we grew up thinking a lot of our physical traits were just 'white but messed up' instead of knowing they were just... not white traits.

so now we don't know what white looks like. we see people and go "they're white" and then have to stop and actually just... try and figure out why we think that, because half the time the person is actually indigenous or hispanic and we just can't tell because we were taught that those traits were also 'white' as long as their skin is on the pale side.

or how we 'are the worst puerto rican' because we have sensory issues that mean we can't eat stuff like beans and rice, but most of our favorite foods are actually... you know. just not beans and rice. like corn, or squash, or tostones, maduros... a lot of our really safe foods are not-white-foods, but we were never taught this and were told the exact opposite for over two decades...

idk. i get why she feels that way about that side of our family, but... to claim you're hispanic but your child isn't because they're pale? while also saying their skin-type is exactly the same as your hispanic relatives?

it's not really a great time for the kid.

[the-library-alcove]

So a while back, a fairly left-wing friend of mine was shocked at the thought of Left-Wing Holocaust Denial, asking how it could even be possible, how can the Left even deny the Holocaust given everything (quote: "why would the LEFT be in denial? After you read Elie Wiesel, you can't deny any of it. Same with Maus, Frieda Appleman-Jurman's memoirs, and all that. Also, Lois Lowry won a Newberry medal for Number the Stars"). So I've been chewing on this for a while now.

First, Right-Wing Holocaust Denial is straight up "denial that the Holocaust happened"--often with an undertone of "But we wish that it had and it was a great idea". They deny the number of deaths, or excuse the Nazis, or say that the Jews had it coming, or say that it didn't happen at all, that sort of thing. It's a very blunt, straightforward form of denial.

Comparatively, Left-Wing Holocaust Denial takes a different, more sophisticated form that functions on multiple levels--with an undertone of its own along the lines of "the Jews are exaggerating to try to portray themselves as victims"--and to talk about this form of denial, I have to explain what the Holocaust was.

So this gets a bit long, because what is being denied is long, but I will ask you to bear with me.

But, TL:DR:

Right Wing Holocaust Denial denies the body count and the atrocities...

Left Wing Holocaust Denial denies everything that built up to it, the centuries of Othering and murders, and the aftereffects.

The Holocaust, 1939-1945, was the culmination of literally centuries of anti-Jewish hatred from Christian Europeans, dating back well over a thousand years.

For one example, there were anti-Jewish riots in France in the 1020s in misplaced vengeance for the Islamic destruction of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in 1009 CE. Decades later, the Crusaders butchered 99% of the Jewish population of northern Europe, beginning in 1096 and continuing for centuries, such that a population of nearly 100,000 in 1050 CE was reduced down to less than a thousand in 1350 CE, as genetic studies show.

Jews were vilified as "Enemies of Christ", and various forms of attack to whip up mobs against Jews became common enough to get names of their own: Blood Libel (the accusation of Jews stealing children and murdering them to use their blood) and Host Desecration (the accusation that Jews were stealing consecrated Hosts and "torturing" them in order to attack Jesus), among others. These resulted in thousands of Jews being attacked, harmed, killed, and expelled.

Pogroms, massacres, and expulsions were just part of the pattern; Jews were effectively second class citizens at best, confined to marginal parts of cities (the original ghettos), subject to ritual humiliation (there was a part of Carnival in Rome that featured "The Running Of The Jews" where the Jewish population of the city had to race and be beaten by the Christians and there are designed-to-be-humiliating carvings of Jews on churches), and so forth. Jews were the scapegoats of choice--a powerless minority made to do the dirty work (such as tax collection) by the powerful and then liquidated when the lower classes got upset, as a distraction (King: "It's not my fault you're hungry!" *motions to table laden with food* "It's the fault of those greedy Jews who I force to work as tax collectors! Go kill them instead of me!"). And that cycle further entrenched the hatred.

Martin Luther took this to new heights during the Reformation; initially, he was "nice", saying that the Christians should treat the Jews gently to get us to convert... and when we didn't, he got nasty, writing a book titled "On The Jews And Their Lies" where he outlined a "how to persecute Jews and make their lives utter hell so they'll convert" prescription of behavior.

And this all became deeply baked into the culture of Europe, in plays, architecture, pop culture, stories, and conspiracy theories over the centuries. Even after the ghetto walls were torn down in the early 1800s by Napoleon and Jews were allowed to integrate into mainstream society, that hatred did not go away. If anything, the resentment grew, culminating in outbursts like the Dreyfus Affair, where a French-Jewish artillery officer was made into the fall guy for another spy, because he was Jewish.

There was a "Jewish Question" in the countries of Europe. A political National Question that went, "What shall we do with these Jews who live in our lands who we do not want?" And many of the Jews desperately wanted to prove that they were Good Model Citizens, but it didn't matter. Some of us, seeing the writing on the wall, and that the Europeans would never accept us, started agitating for political separation and independence--Zionism.

During this time, the old religious-based hatreds were being ostensibly phased out, and it was the era of "scientific racism", so a new word was coined--"antisemitism", to replace the old "Judenhass", to sound more "scientific". More anti-Jewish accusations were created, such as the "Protocols Of The Elders Of Zion", which is a Russian-made forgery that is supposedly the record of a meeting of Jewish elders in their master plan to control the world; it was written to distract hatred away from the Czar and onto a scapegoat. (Essentially just an updated version of the kings' tactic of scapegoating the Jews from centuries earlier)

So the hatreds stayed, regardless of what new clothes they wore. After World War One, when the Nazis said that the blame for the loss and subsequent humiliation and economic collapse of the Weimar Republic was because of the "Jews stabbing us in the back", there was a massive population of people who were already primed to hate and resent Jews and just needed that excuse to focus that hatred. They passed laws that specifically stripped citizenship from the Jews on racial grounds, instituted blood purity laws--again, on racial grounds--and built up to the Holocaust, where the Jews were not seen as human, but as vermin, out to contaminate their pure race.

In the process, they killed nine out of ten Jews who lived in Europe. Their hatred to the point that they diverted efforts to fight the Allies just so that they could kill Jews. Local people hated Jews so much that they collaborated with their own conquerors, just so they could kill Jews. Because they hated us so much, had hated us for centuries. Their "Final Solution" to "The Jewish Question." This part is what the Right Wing denies.

And then, in the aftermath, nobody wanted the remaining victims. Literally, the British said, "We'll carve off part of our Empire to give to them rather than let them come here."

So, after centuries of hatred and marginalization, Europeans gave into their hatreds that they had been raised with and murdered us in our millions, and we were traumatized.

And some of us went to the USA--the few that the US was willing to take in--and many more, not having any other place to go, went to British Mandate Palestine with the hope of self-governance in the future Jewish territory... having learned that they could not trust non-Jews.

That is the Holocaust and what led up to it, and some of the aftermath of it.

Left Wing Holocaust Denial erases all of that, except for the Holocaust itself, which is taken out of context as a moral lesson.

The Left Wing Unofficial Narrative Of The Holocaust is that the Nazis arbitrarily picked several groups of fellow European Whites, the Jews being just one of them, agitated against them in order to make an Enemy, and then killed them in order to cement power. Thus, in this narrative, the Holocaust was thus an aberration brought about by demagoguery and propaganda. Thus, it is imperative to remember "Never Again", because it can happen to anyone.

According to this narrative, "Jews" are just White Europeans who practice a different Abrahamic Religion, and who played the aftermath of the genocide for undeserved sympathy points to get a colony of their own where they could become oppressors in turn, and that they are getting special treatment that ignores the other victims of the Holocaust.

In doing so, the Left needs to ignore...

...the racial aspects of the Holocaust and the decades and centuries before it--the blood purity laws, the specific "racial science" that Othered Jews, and so forth--in favor of a "Jews are White" narrative.

...that the Jews were specifically targeted by the Nazis for extermination, to the point of irrational, self-defeating fixation, whereas only the Roma were as targeted for complete eradication alongside the Jews--in favor of a "But what about the other victims too?" narrative.

...the Nazi obsession with hating Jews (which has not gone away) as a fundamental part of their ideology, and pretending that the Nazi hatred of Jews is no different than the eugenics and political oppression that other groups were victims of--again, in favor of a "Other people were victims of the Nazis too!" narrative.

...the centuries of hatred and victimization that preceded the Holocaust and culminated in it--in favor of a "Jews are just European White People" narrative.

...the trauma that happened when you've lost your homes, your families, your way of life, and your society, and nobody made any efforts to help you, and how it becomes apparent, after trying to fit in and integrate for decades, that you can be Perfect Citizens and the Christians will still hate you so we need to defend ourselves for our own sakes--in favor of a "Jews are oppressors and didn't learn the right lessons from the Holocaust" narrative.

So, TL;DR:

Right Wing Holocaust Denial denies the body count and the atrocities...

Left Wing Holocaust Denial denies everything that built up to it, the centuries of Othering and murders, and the aftereffects.

[saphirered]

Saph I hope you feel better! I really liked the VM Snow White you just posted, but could you also please do the same prompt but with M9 boys including Molly? If you’re not feeling up to it that’s fine too!

Thank you! The meds are beginning to do their job luckily. I'm glad you liked the last one. I blinked, my hand slipped and now it's here. Prepare for some angst. Hope you enjoy! 😘

(Caleb)

Caleb had always known his past would come to haunt him. He was prepared for it. Prepared to take the hit, take responsibility for everything and he’d face his past be that with or without the people he loves. Part of him, once he got used to having these fools around, having you around, wanted it to be on his own, to protect them and protect you. To not have any more lives lost in the grand scheme. The people he loves becoming collateral would be unacceptable. But you had become collateral in the grand scheme of things.

When it became clear to his enemies he was a bit more attached to you than the others, they took this weakness and exploited it. They pushed his buttons before, using you as a tool, verbal bait even, but he never fell for it. His reluctancy to act on his feelings, to keep them to himself instead, were the very thing he hoped would keep those loose ends from latching onto you. His love is a curse, the objects of his desire always to be torn away from him no matter how hard he tries to prevent it. He’s lost you to that same curse. Not lost. Almost lost.

You’ve been cursed, your conscious mind separated from your unconscious body. Simple healing spells wouldn’t do the trick here. This curse holds no roots in the divine. He’s spent days researching and that much he could confirm. This curse would take an arcane approach. Something he prides himself in to be his specialty. Lucky you. Lucky him. He had the others bring all books, ancient scrolls and other sources of knowledge brought to him, along with a wide variety of components once he’d made a significant dent in the research matter, assuring him this would have the greatest chances of success.

It’s not the soft canopy bed with the plush pillows from the fairytales you’re placed on. Instead you lay on a wooden table, inscribed with all sorts of arcane sigils. Nor do you look like some angelic peaceful being. Your brow is furrowed in discomfort, your hands balled into fists at your sides. Caleb moves a brush against areas of exposed skin, painting symbols to match with precision and care, afraid to even make a single mistake, triple checking every mark. He speaks the incantations while incorporating the components varying from precious gems crushed and whole, herbs and incense. And then he waits. He doesn’t expect the effects to be immediate, often with these magics it is not and he knows that but that doesn’t get rid of the impatience and fear.

“How I long to hear your voice again. I know this will work but that doesn’t ease away the sliver of doubt. What if… What if… That’s what I keep asking myself. I know it’s stupid.” Caleb wipes an hand over his brow as he pulls up a chair and sits at your side, elbows leaning on the table careful to avoid any sigils just in case.

“It also faced me with the harsh reality that I held off telling you how I feel. It looks so stupid now in hindsight because what good did it do anyone. In the end you still ended up paying for my mistakes. I was stupid to push you away, try to convince you your own feelings were unreciprocated. I know I didn’t have you fooled in the slightest but to know I could have loved you, it makes me feel like I am to blame for wasting that opportunity and possibly shortening our time together. The thought of losing you before having given you my love will forever be my greatest regret.”

Caleb watches the muscle of your hand unclench and relax. He hears a deep intake of breath and staring at your face he’s met with your smile, one filled with love as he helps you sit up. All is good once more.

(Fjord)

Fjord’s drenched to the bone, out of breath, anger running through him like he’s never experienced. Still he’s unsure if his anger is directed at the one responsible for your eternal slumber or at himself for making a ballsy move that didn’t pay off in the slightest and in fact backfired in a worse way he could have ever imagined. He played a game of chicken with Uk’otoa and lost. He’d have been fine by letting someone else pay the price for him. Why should he care about some stranger becoming victim to the leviathan? The one who paid the price, became the victim to his actions didn’t end up being a stranger. It had to be you of all people hadn’t it?

Uk’otoa must have been watching his dreams, even his waking actions if that were possible and have seen his infatuation with you. When the leviathan threatened Fjord in another briny dream of his mentioning your name he had called bullshit. The snake had never been able to reach out to anyone it didn’t already have some kind of grasp on. Little did he know Uk’otoa had just that. Just enough of a sliver through him, and the Cloven Crystal to get to you.

So there Fjord sits at your bedside. You’re just as drenched as he is, hair dripping, skin glowing in the candle light of the room reflected off the water particles. Your lips are tinted blue, a redness around your eyes, your skin is cold. The sleep you’re in is a state of perpetual drowning and Fjord knows what it feels like, to drown. He can only hope you’re spared that pain. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to forgive himself if you are tortured like so because of his actions. Clasping your hand between both of his he runs his fingers over your knuckles. He bows his head. It still feels so wrong to not have you respond to his touch. So wrong.

“I want you to know that I am to blame for your fate. I’m about to do a very stupid thing to make it right. I know you’d tell me not to but I can’t sit by and watch you suffer like this. I’ve tried everything. I’ve begged and bargained. I’ve shouted at the skies but I got no reply. Everything comes up empty and I see no other choice than to do this. It might sound stupid but I came to ask for your forgiveness.” Fjord pauses. Usually he would have gotten a reply. He would sell his soul for just having you tell him everything will be alright. It’s a good thing he’s about to sell it for so much more than that. It’s worth it. It’s worth having you alive and well.

“I won’t ask for forgiveness for what I’m about to do because I will never regret it. I ask only you may one day forgive me for what I might become. I need you to know I love you and did, will do all of this out of love. That’s why I hope you’ll never see me again after I give myself to Uk’otoa. I can’t bare to watch that affection in your eyes being replaced by hatred, but most of all disappointment. I hoped to be worthy of your love and I will always regret never having truly experienced it.” Fjord’s voice cracks slightly. He studies your face, as if to ingrain every detail into his memory, as if he thinks he might never see it again.

“I’m afraid. I’m so deadly afraid.” Fjord whimpers pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go. He checks his supplies, taking out the Cloven Crystal, glaring at the orb intensely cursing the thing to oblivion. Coughs pull him out of his staring match with the crystal. Your body moves, leaning over the edge of the bed vomiting up brine. Fjord drops the orb and his belongings running over to you and helping you gather your bearings until you’re no longer chocking on sea water.

“You better not do what I think you’re planning with that orb or so help me Storm Lord, I will drown you myself.” Fjord can’t do anything but laugh despite the very real threat on his life as you pull him into your embrace.

(Caduceus)

Caduceus isn’t bothered by death. Death is part of life as much as living is. It’s inevitable. Every soul will move on, leaving its vessel for the earth, the fire or the wild things to bring forth something new. What does very much bother him are perversions of death, those who try to cheat death, upset the natural balance, maim and manipulate that what is and should be. He hates it with a passion and seeks to rectify it, return the world to that balance when faced with it. That’s where you come in. You much like him have a respect and understanding of life and death similar to his own. Very few people understand that. Very few people do not fear the end when they see it coming. You’re one of those very few people.

You understand Caduceus on a different level, in his sentiment and mannerisms while others may think him strange. Not that he cares if people do, you’ve been his filter in the big shiny new world past the borders of his grove. You’ve been his safety net, his grounding force, his safe haven when the world seems against him and he thinks his senses might be wrong. The Wild Mother must have gently blown her winds to bring you together.

That’s why it seems so wrong you’re affected by this darkness having taken hold over your body, leaving you in a state of not entirely alive nor dead. Resurrection has been futile as much as draining your life and allowing you to move to the care of the Wild Mother herself. You’re trapped and that’s why Caduceus fears what would happen should you die. He’s seen what this perversion of life and death has done to his home, the forests surrounding it and the creatures living in it. He’ll do everything in his power to prevent that from happening to you.

Caduceus has put your body through the typical burial rites and rituals, preserving what he can by using wards and the divine blessings granted to him by his goddess, sending her prayers of your recovery but you appear to be even beyond her reach now. He moves a damp cloth across your arms and face, brushing aside your hair, humming to himself until he’s done, moving on to clean the room around you, getting rid of the dust, placing things back where they belong and replacing the decayed flowers with fresh ones. Caduceus gathers his tea, preparing a cup for himself as he watches you.

“Can you show me how they’re doing?” The wind grows cold. He knew that would be the answer but still he could hope maybe that answer could change.

“Are they in pain?” The wind grows warm but then cold again. You were, but not anymore. It seems that the new wards he’s put up are doing their job. That’s good.

“Is there a cure?” The gentle breeze disappears. She doesn’t know then. This goes even beyond the goddess herself but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Caduceus will keep hope, though it is dwindling fast, for your sake he’ll have hope. He’s always spoken to the dead before and while you’re not really dead, there’s a strange comfort to something that feels so final.

“Hey. I’d ask you how you’re doing but that’s not gonna work now, is it? Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. I know you are. You’ve managed to keep me alive with the others for much longer than I’ve been taking care of you like this. I think we’re going to be fine. I know you’re here but I still miss you. Calliope makes for terrible company watching things unfurl between the others. She’s too much of a hopeless romantic. You forgot to tell me the recipe to that special brew of yours. I’ve been trying to recreate it but I haven’t been able to. I think what I’m trying to say is, I could really do with having my best friend back. That’d be nice.”

Caduceus sips his tea, face devoid of his usual dopy smile. A sudden breeze hits through the window, blowing it open. A few lighter weight and loose items go flying but the thud of a heavier one is clear to hear. Caduceus closes the window and feels something solid hit his boot. It’s a crystal from the ones surrounding the grove. He picks it up, feeling the warmth run through it. The breeze directs towards you and he feels himself walking over to your body. The crystal calls to you and when it touches you your body runs with energy, pulsing, like you’ve been forcibly pulled back to this world. You look around eyes wide breathing heavy.

“Hey.” Caduceus smiles. “I made tea.”

(Mollymauk)

Maybe pretending you and him were some high born assholes was a questionable decision. Taking on an invite directed at the said people you were impersonating even more so, and stealing, sorry, borrowing without asking, some things from their summer cottage to swim in luxuries, an out right terrible idea when these people happen to be very well connected.

So when these fancy folk came back to the cottage earlier than expected, the two of you had grabbed what you could before making your grand escape, chased by their private guards until you lost them. A safe distance away you set up camp. Time to inspect your findings before returning to the carnival. Your eye for valuables had always been much more keen than Molly’s and your appraisals usually spot on. It was only natural he would let you do your thing but he’d still help you.

Particularly proud of getting some ornate jewellery box Molly had pried it open and revealed the jackpot. But of course you couldn’t just sell recognisable jewellery as is and you couldn’t keep such a thing on you very long. So of course you went to work, prying the stones from their settings. A particular necklace was giving you trouble, not even your tools being able to pry it out, you even broke one so you left that one for last.

The two of you had argued, eventually setting on just smashing the stone with the pommel of Molly’s scimitar, the broken gem still providing plenty of pay and not being as recognisable in peaces. So you held the necklace across a stone while he smashed it. When it did a spark hit, next thing he knew you were on the ground, your hands burned where you held the precious metal. At first he thought you were simply knocked out but when you didn't wake up he grew worried. Splashing water in your face, shaking you, lifting your legs, nothing got you to wake up so instead he carried you and the jewellery back to the carnival. Two days and still you didn’t wake up. It became clear this bloody gem was cursed when dark veins started crawling up your skin as the days passed.

Since this was technically on him, Molly took care of you. He makes quite a doting nurse when he wants to be but never without an inappropriate comment or two. It was quite strange to not hear you laugh at or scold him for these comments. Nevertheless he’d fluff up the pillow beneath your head, provide you an extra blanket when the night was cold, tell you stories, or simply the events of the day, the people who came to the carnival, some things he lifted from people’s pockets and so on. Molly has to say he’s ashamed to admit he’d got frustrated with your unresponsiveness or rather the fact you still hadn’t woken up and there was nothing the others could do for you. A healer would still be a week or so out.

“You know, while I’ve really begun getting used to these little one-sided conversations and your lack of judgement at some of my more terrible decisions I really prefer sharing them with you in the moment. I’ve gotten caught by the guards twice now and without you, Gustav is getting a bit sick of bailing me out. I miss our little flirtations. I miss your sometimes wrong opinions, though you’d say they’re proven facts. I miss your company. I think our time apart has given me time to reflect how much you truly mean to me and how much I need you in my life.” Molly leans on his elbow as he studies your face unmoving. You look so peaceful and asleep but he’d much rather get lost in your eyes when you’re awake.

“I laughed at you when you told me the most valuable thing in the world anyone could ever give another is their heart but I think I know what that means now. I’ll offer you mine if you will have it. So please, come back and make sure my head doesn’t get up too high into the clouds or I might just float away.” Molly leans back looking at the ceiling of the tent with a sigh. He’s pulled out of his mind by a snicker.

“A dramatic confession of love to the unconscious target of your affections? And you call me cliche.” Molly looks at your face, eyes still closed but smug grin clear on your face. He pokes your side making you jump.

“You are insufferable.”

[lovesanmotion]

ateez reacts: in a serious arguement with s/o

💌 This is: requested

Hongjoong: 

When you met Hongjoong, it was the happiest day of your life. Everytime you get sad, your brain takes a trip down memory lane and reminds you of the day when you met him. Of course it brings a smile on your face. However, a happy memory can no longer bring happiness to you. 

Arguement after arguement, nothing seems to be coming to peace between you and Hongjoong. One heated night, tensions arose once more between the two of you, arguing how Hongjoong so desperately wants a child but you say you still weren’t ready. 

“We’ve been married for three fucking years! If only I knew our marriage is going into a shithole, I shouldn’t have married you or should have opted for a second marriage!” Hongjoong slams his fist onto the wooden table that broke and slid down on the floor. Tears brimmed your eyes at the impact and weight of his words. You felt guilty and to blame for. 

“Y-Y/N- I didn’t mean that..” Hongjoong spoke, his features softening as he tries to approach you. But you looked up to him, your visions blurry at the tears ooling in your eyes. 

“No it’s okay. It’s really okay. It looks like you’ve made up your mind and why should I get in the way? I hope you’re happy with the choice you’ve made.” You smiled at him, despite the pain and emotional stress you’ve pent up for weeks, you let it all out by crying yourself to sleep, And when the morning comes, you quietly slip out of the shared apartment and Hongjoong’s life. 

Seonghwa: 

Days spent with Seonghwa always felt like walking into a flowery road that would lead you two into happiness. And the road is endless, you were sure that he’s the one for you. But you spoke too soon. 

Now, throwing plates are being thrown at one another, dodging those plates as they hit on the walls and picture frames. As Seonghwa throws a plate, it narrowly misses you and smashes into the picture frame that you took on your first date. And suddenly, the world made you two stop and stare and take in everything that happened for the past few minutes. Neither of you two could speak, let alone look at each other in the eye. What happened, happened. And now the silence spoke for the two of you. 

Yunho: 

Your parents were against you dating Yunho. Why? They know for a fact that relationships between an idol and non idol partner were uncommon and would never work due to the fact that the idol’s schedules are hectic and almost has no room for them to breathe into their personal lives. But you still wanted to be with Yunho. At the same time, Yunho’s parents were aginst him dating you as well. Why? To put it simply, you are non idol. They want someone for him who walks down the runways or sings in sold out arenas, but you didn’t fit in any category. 

And lately, it seemed to you that Yunho was slowly giving in to his parents’ wishes. The photos he uploads on his Instagram stories includes different women every night, all of them are not like you. It pains you that this silent arguement kept on going between you two. And one day, while on a walk with Yunho, you stopped walking. You were somehow hoping that he would stop from his tracks and look back at you, if you were catching up to. But to see him continue walking without even going back to look at you is already enough to know where you two are heading. 

Yeosang: 

Yeosang coming into your life was the best thing that has ever happened to your existence up to day. Though you two have different worlds, you solely depended your life and happiness to him. And the world seemed to be in favor of you, after a year of dating, he got down on one knee and married you in front of hundreds of people. You were the happiest, nothing in this world could ever make you sad, as long as Yeosang’s beside you. 

But what if your world’s the one that decides to hurt you? Weeks after the marriage, Yeosang had a complete change of heart. He stopped coming home to you and was always spotted with a certain someone whenever he is outside. Whenever you confronted to him about it, he tells you not to worry. But you knew it was a lie and without knowing, you unconsciously raised your hand and swung it across his face. 

Was it enough to make him feel the pain you feel? Maybe not. But was worth it? Yes. You hated yourself for being not good enough, but most importantly, you hated yourself for depending your happines to a person. 

San: 

They say “nothing lasts forever, nothing stays the same”, but you love to disagree with that saying. What about the elderly couples who found love and comfort in each other and are growing old together? What about those couples who, after so many lifetimes, still find each other in different life times? 

Being young and naive has its cons, but you believe in the idea of love and all its forms. And that is what brought yout to believe that San is the one for you. Talking about your plans together, what you two would want to be in the long run, how many children he wants to have. You are young and naive but believe in the idea of love and all its forms. 

But when everything comes spiraling down, a false rumour spreading against you and San chooses to believe whoever spreaded the rumour and never listened to any word you say made you think about the saying. You never confronted San anymore as you let the relationship that you so love and dear fall apart before you. 

Mingi: 

When you got into a relationship with Mingi, you never suspected anything. Nothing was suspiscious and out of the place at all. But after a year of dating did it only made you realize why you were somehow suspiscious: not once did you two fight each other. You couldn’t believe how a year of dating Mingi and is the most healthiest relationship you have ever been. This is exactly what you wanted that others want too, and you were lucky and thankful at the same time. 

But you never got along with his friends, and so did your friends with him too. Whenever they would go out and drink, they would often talk about you and often make up lies about you. This went unnoticed to you, how toxic his friend group. Until one day, Mingi confronted you with all the things his friends have said about you. You argued back by saying how could he believe them instead of listening to what you have to say. THe night went on you two cursing at each other until it was inevitable to fix whatever you two had build together. 

Wooyoung: 

After being married to Wooyoung, you thought everything would fall into place. However, three months into the marriage, not one day did he initiate any itimacy with you. It was always the “good morningy/n” and “i’m going to work now”. He was never like that before when you two were dating, you wondered what caused him to be so cold towards you. 

“When can we expect a grandchild?” Your mother in law asks. 

“Having a child is too early. Y/N and I are still enjoying each other’s company, that’s what matters, mother.” Wooyoung smoothly answers for you. You felt small in the eyes of your in laws, unable to tell them the truth. 

“Do you really think its too soon for us to have a child?” You ask as you cleaned the dishes once his parents left. 

“Having a child is too much right now. My parents even want you to stop working.” 

And that’s when your soft facade cracked. First, Wooyoung has been so cold towards you, second, his family belittled you earlier and now they want to take away the career you’ve worked hard to get. You couldn’t help but let out a dramatic, long sigh and ranted everything that you’ve been feeling. 

“And do you think I have it nicely for me? That you think everything is going well for me? Maybe marrying you was a mistake.” 

Jongho: 

Jongho was never almost always home. He was always outside, impressing his bosses by taking them out to restaurants, treating them to lavish parties and women while you were left at home, having to take care of your eleventh month baby and worried sick if he’ll ever come home. As a good wife, you’ve made everything for him - cook his food, iron his home and work clothes, kept the side of this bed warm and always makes sure he still has hot water to use in the shower. But then, those things that you do for him tires you out now, and you no longer continue to do them for him. 

When he complains how he comes home with no food and a cold shower to use, you kept yourself quiet and moved around like a ghost. Jongho walks up to you and takes a hold on the back of your head, motioning you to turn around to him.

“If I ask you something, you should respond. I’m your husband.” He spat, but you looked at him with hate and pushed yourself off his hold.  

“Husband? You’re always and never home, if only your son could talk right now, he would always ask for you. It’s always me who runs around this house! And I got tired of waiting for you! You don’t how it feels, because you’re too busy kissing other people’s asses!” 

Jongho’s pushes you away from him, maybe a little too agrressive when you landed on the floor with a loud thud. That night, Jongho slept on the couch, and you on the little bedding inside the baby room. Maybe a divorce doesn’t sound so bad after all. 

[starlightrows]

3 — The Pariah

The Queen of Tatooine Masterlist

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Pairing: Boba Fett x reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Non graphic violence, fire, hypothermia

Summary: Tempers rage in your small town, you are blamed for the less than savory change in patronage

Eventually the storm blew itself out, and your steady flow of patrons returned to eat, drink, stay the night, and move on. As autumn turned to winter, the storms and rain became more frequent, and began getting colder. Frost settled over the ground each night and melted by mid day.

A few weeks after Boba Fett had left your inn, on a chilly morning, you noticed a shift in the townspeople’s attitude towards you. Instead of quiet resentment or unspoken distaste, now they glared at you in the market. You were just trying to pick up some things you needed. More flour, a replacement pitcher for the one you knocked off the bar and broke, soap, and sewing needles. Many of the vendors would not speak to you, one of them wouldn’t even let you look at her wares. Confused and offended you tried to ask what you had done to have service refused, she met your gaze

“Your business is turning our town into a trading post for criminals and mercenaries” she spits “you can buy your soap somewhere else”

“I don’t choose who comes through this town” you point out

“Doesn’t matter, you let them stay” she snaps the box of cut soaps shut and gives you a look, trying to intimidate you into leaving

When you turn around, many of the other vendors at the market, and citizens of your town have gathered around the soap stall. Their voices rise up from their whispers to angry shouts and accusations.

People begin blaming you for their loss of profit, their stolen property… then the accusations get more and more fanatical. The storm that knocked over a large tree and damaged someone’s speeder, another man’s daughter running away to the next town for a boy, the town children’s new interest in playing “bounty hunters and thieves”.

You back away, try to leave the market and get back to the inn. But the crowd follows you, calling out horrible names and slurs. You pick up the pace and try to block them out, but the faster you go— the faster they get.

You’re running now, running to get away from the mob that seems to be growing with each house or business you pass. You’re almost there, if you can just get to the door. The head of the mob catches you by the fabric of your shirt and yanks you back. To your horror, the rest of the mob surges forward and breaks down your door.

Several men shove you and kick you to the ground every time you try to get up. You beg them to stop, to let you go, to make the rest of the townspeople stop what they’re doing.

You can hear them inside. Smashing your glasses, using rocks to shatter the windows, flipping the tables, ransacking the kitchen, probably stealing your money and your food.

Then there’s smoke rising from the back window. Someone must have knocked coals out of the hearth. People come pouring out of the inn, disappearing back into the town and surrounding woods carrying armfuls of your stuff and coughing as black smoke billows out of your home.

The men who had been keeping you down scattered off with the rest of the crowd. You got up on your knees as the flames overtook the inn… your business… your home… burning before your eyes, and you were powerless to stop it.

The sky darkens as ugly grey clouds mask the sun. You drag yourself away to the edge of the forest just in time for the rain to begin falling. Luckily the rainfall helps to beat back the red hot tongues of fire that have engulfed your home.

You sit for hours, half waiting for the mob to return and continue beating you with sticks. But there is only you, the rain, the ruins of your inn and the smoke that begins to rise into the sky. Rain comes and goes, and the sun begins to set behind mountains. The fire seems to have gone out. You know it’s dangerous to try to poke around in the wreckage, but you have no choice.

You haul yourself up, shivering on unsteady legs and step over what used to be the front wall. Blackened wood, melted and misshapen silverware, the hearth and chimney still stand. The entire upstairs has collapsed. It’s jarring to see burnt bed frames with charred mattresses covered in ash. There’s nothing left. What little you had that actually belonged to you was gone or burned beyond saving.

Night is falling and you’ll freeze if you don’t figure out some way to get warm or have shelter. You’ll figure out what to do tomorrow if you live to see the dawn. You continue to pick through the rubble until you find something you might be able to use. The wash basin you kept in the back and used to bathe and do your laundry. It’s made of metal and miraculously intact.

Dragging it away is more effort than you expected, it’s always been an awkward item to move around. But nevertheless you drag it away from the wreckage, just inside the treeline. Using two sturdy y-frame tree branches you prop it up against the wind, and set about making a small fire to stay warm.

Thank the Maker, it didn't rain again that night. And the fire reflected back against the bottom of the tub and kept you warm all night. At first light you’re up, putting out your campfire and picking through the rubble again to find anything that could be useful. You don’t find much… just an old hunting knife your father had left to you and an iron cup.

You decide your best course of action is to walk the 45 miles to the next settlement and either seek justice for what’s happened to you… or disappear and not make any trouble. The trek to get there will take three or four days, and that’s if you make good time. Might as well get a head start.

————

Word traveled quickly about what had happened. Many mercenaries, bounty hunters and their quarries alike arrive in town to stay at the inn and find that it’s been burned to the ground and the innkeeper has been driven out of town.

The desired effect of reducing criminal activity and foot traffic through the area does occur. But not before they’ve pillaged, vandalized and reaped havoc upon the entire settlement.

The one person in the criminal underworld who seems to miss out on this information is Boba Fett. He returns to your settlement to find the entire town struggling to pick up the pieces of their lives. Your inn is nothing more than a scorch mark on the ground it once sat on with a blackened brick hearth in the center.

His heart aches and his mind turns to dark thoughts of what could have happened to you, and who was responsible for it. He storms back into the settlement, and finds the nearest groveling peasant. It just so happens it was one of the men that kicked you down while your home burned.

“What happened here?” Boba demands. The man cowers from him and doesn’t answer. “I asked you a question. What happened?”

“It was the innkeeper” the man says hastily “She let all the criminals and mercenaries in the galaxy stay under her roof… and they ransacked the town”

He doesn’t buy it… something here doesn’t add up “I don’t believe you” growled pointing a blaster at the man “Either convince me, or tell me the truth”

“No no it’s true I swear! We drove her out of town hoping the crime in our settlement would stop”

Boba nods and lowers his blaster “Thank you”

The man looks relieved for a brief moment before he sees Boba raising his blaster again. Boba dispatches him quickly without so much as a word.

We drove her out of town, the man had said. He had no remorse for what happened. No concern for you, your livelihood they had uprooted. Boba was disgusted by it.

Boba returned to the ruins of your home and began to search for any signs of you, and where you might have gone. It doesn’t take him long to find the remnants of your smaller camp fire and the metal tub you used for shelter. A good sign that you were thinking on your feet and likely survived the fire.

He thought about you, put himself in your shoes and went through what must have been going through your mind. Where to go? What to do? Obviously remaining here would not be an option. So what’s the next step? Finding somewhere safer to go.

He knows of two other settlements in this region of your planet. One is 45 miles northeast and the other 62 miles southwest. Both are long trips to take on foot with no supplies. But if you were thinking strategically you would have chosen the 45 mile hike. There’s water sources in that direction and it’s a shorter distance. So that’s the direction he takes off.

————

It’s been three days and you’re not making good time as you hoped you would. No food and cold weather makes your movements slow. You’ve been drinking water but you can only trick your stomach for so long. Plus you’re traveling in the forest just within eye sight of the road because you don’t want to be seen by other travelers. The last thing you need is another angry mob.

Your head hurts and your stomach is bloated from drinking so much water, but you’re so hungry and exhausted from walking. You sit beside a tree near the stream you’ve been following up higher into the mountains.

You wonder what the new settlement will be like. You wonder what you will do there given that you have no money and nothing to trade. You wonder if they would help you take your money and land back if you explained what happened to you. Or would they too cast you out and leave you to fend for yourself. Winter is well on its way. If they don’t help you, you’ll be dead in a matter of weeks. If not from hunger, then exposure to the cold.

These are dark and scary thoughts. Normally you would push such thoughts away and busy yourself with work, but that’s not an option now. You have nothing but time, and your mind races with all the things you’ve lost.

You’ll never get married or have children. You’ll never get to expand your garden. You’ll never start the projects you’ve always dreamed of doing. Making your own clothes. Learning to paint. Writing stories. None of it. All your hopes and dreams will fade with you into the icy cold winds that will take you.

You have to try your inner voice urges you, you have to try to make it

That thought propels you forward. You force yourself to get up and keep walking towards the next settlement. You have to pause every 50 yards or so to rest against a tree, but you don’t let yourself sit back down. You have to keep going.

Meanwhile Boba takes a speeder and begins tracking you. He can tell you’re slowing down. Good because he’ll catch you soon, but bad because that definitely means you’re getting weaker. Suddenly he can see you on the tracking system in his helmet. He can see how slowly you’re moving. He gets off the speeder and goes on foot to catch up with you.

Switching off the tracking system he follows you from a distance for a moment or two. He calls out your name as gently as he can. You whip around and stumble sideways clinging to a tree to hold you up right. There is fear in your eyes. Usually when he’s hunting a bounty that is a mark of satisfaction for him, to strike fear and command respect. But you are not a bounty. He calls out your name again and removes his helmet and hopes you’ll recognize him.

He’s too far away and your vision is too blurry. In your sleep and food deprived mind he’s one of the people that burned down your inn and beat you on the ground. But you’ve poured all of your remaining energy into pushing forward, and have nothing left to put up a fight. You lean against your tree and stare blankly at the figure that you’ve decided is definitely here to kill you.

Boba approaches you slowly with his hands raised to show you he’s not going to hurt you. His face becomes more and more clear to you as he gets closer. You search your mind for the name that goes with his face you recognize. It’s not until he’s right in front of you, catching you by the arms as your knees buckle under you, that you find the name you’re searching for.

“Boba?” Your voice is small and weak, you barely recognize it “You came back?”

He takes you into his arms and pats your back “Of course I came back”

Tag List: @cannedsoupsucks @otterly-fey @paige6768 @littledragonlady

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.02

10/19/2020

No Lies in a Marriage

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,150

Warnings: angst, anxiety, panic attack, language

A/N: As I said in the post earlier today, you’ll probably see updates for this story often right now because it’s at the beginning and I know where I’m going pretty clearly and how to get there and it’s kinda just writing itself for right now. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I love writing this reader with Thor...but I think it’s just because I love writing Thor. haha If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You sit up most of the night after talking to David, staring out your bedroom window at the small plot of land you call your own.

Your belonging. The only true one you’ve ever had.

It’s a small inheritance, sure but it’s yours. Yours alone. A sanctuary from the feeling of emptiness that you’d once felt wishing for something that felt like home. It’s more than even some will ever have.

You’re lucky.

And now you have to leave it behind?

There’s no denying your own part in this mess. You’d been given a choice and you’d made it, believe this outcome would never come. Yet here you are, betrothed and fated to be Queen of Asgard.

David comes to help you pack because he knows that you’ll be wallowing.

In shock you pack just as asked, essentials only which means for you, only your clothing, your laptop, and a very small collection of books are chosen.

You have no pictures to take with you. No family heirlooms or sentimental possessions. You fit it all into one large suitcase.

Funny. As you pack, you can’t help but imagine the lives your nomadic ancestors had lived. Much like you in these moments as you pack what little you have of your life away; they must have left everything behind over and over in their search for their own belonging.

It only takes you two hours to pack once David arrives and together you lug the suitcase down your little hallway to the front door.

There, a beautiful Asgardian stands waiting, her eyes on your own foggy expression with slight concern as David joins her and they lapse into quiet conversation as you continue to space out, thinking about the life you’re leaving behind.

Really, if you’re honest, it isn’t much of a life.

Yes, you have your routine. This is your house. Your things. But aside from that, there’s nothing here. Nothing but independence and solitude.

That’s enough, some would say. Others would wonder what you do with all your time.

Why hadn’t you found someone to share this life with? Someone who could appreciate the coziness of this place with you.

“Are you ready?” The Asgardian asks, Brunnhilde, her voice smooth but stern, yet not unkind.

You turn to look at her, hair gathered up on her head in a large bun. She’s dressed for the Norwegian weather she’s come from despite it being significantly hotter here.

She’s not bothered by it. Or if she is, she hides it well.

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No.” She smiles at you, cheek bones so rounded and pretty you almost want to stroke them because you’ve rarely seen anyone so beautiful.

All of the Asgardians are beyond compare when it comes to looks. Even those that are plain radiate a golden aura. Godlike. Thor’s is the strongest and he’s most certainly the most beautiful to look at.

You’d been too afraid to admit it to yourself before because you’d been so decided against marrying him, but Thor is by far the loveliest man you’ve ever seen. Ideal. He’s exquisite.

And you get to marry him. Which doesn’t exactly feel like a bad thing.

Being chosen to marry Thor would be amazing, given the fantasies you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in since the day you met with him, if not for the fact that you know he’s in love with someone else. Someone who won’t marry him. Someone stupid, obviously.

And those fantasies you’d indulged in would never happen with someone else in his heart. So without that, all you have left is duty. Duty to Earth and its people, ensuring their safety and though you honestly don’t think Earth needs it, the assurance from the Asgardians that they will respect humans as the dominant lifeform on the planet.

Yes, the whole Queen of Asgard thing is a little daunting and will probably take over your life, so you can’t blame this mystery woman for not wanting to give up her own pursuits to take care of an entire people. To give up one identity for another? Yours is close enough to blank—your life nearly empty—that for you, this might not be such a great loss and yet, this leaves you wondering what this will do for you career.

Small as it is, you’ve had two books published. Limited releases with not much traction. Still, the accomplishment is your own. One you’re proud of.

Will you have to stop writing?

“There will be a dinner, to introduce you to Thor’s inner circle. Myself, Loki, a few others that serve directly under him.” Brunnhilde is saying, pulling you back to reality.

You look around, having zoned out so thoroughly that you hadn’t even realized you’d boarded a plane and taken off.

“The only one you’ll have to watch out for is Sif. She’s usually pretty nice, but she’s a little miffed about the whole marriage situation. From what I’ve heard, she’s had a thing for Thor since they were children. She’s a fierce warrior. Might want to avoid her altogether if possible. Asgardian women can be a little territorial.”

Lovely, another rival.

“So can human women.” You grumble, already hating the looks of what you suppose will be an onslaught of distractions for your future husband in the forms of beautiful women.

Brunnhilde quirks a brow, raising it high as she considers your words but doesn’t comment further.

“He’s never seen her as more than a comrade in arms. Or so he says.” She sounds unconvinced, but you recognize her attempt to calm you.

You stare, saying nothing more as your world is overturned.

“After dinner, you’ll spend some time with Thor. He wants to talk to you a bit. The wedding will be on Thursday. Thor’s idea. Full of himself, the idiot.” She’s smiling as she insults him, flipping the page of a magazine she’d grabbed from the pocket of the seat in front of her and you realize they must be close friends.

“Did he really pick me?” You wonder, knowing that her personality will only let her answer one way.

Brutally honest.

“Against all our recommendations.” She tells you. “Most of us were pulling for the Hungarian one. She had the schooling and the training. A little too eager for Thor, or so he said. And Loki. Loki was also in favor of you.”

“Loki?!” You gasp, remembering with great detail your chance meeting with the Asgardian prince.

“Oh yeah.”

Why would Loki want Thor to choose you? You weren’t exactly nice to him. Then again, you weren’t really mean either. Just…blunt.

More importantly, after the awkward conversation with Thor and his admission to marrying despite his feelings for someone else, his choice is the most confusing.

“Why did he pick me?” You plead. “Thor.”

“You’ll have to ask him tonight after dinner. I couldn’t tell you other than that he said he wanted someone real. Someone who knew what it’s like to be a normal person. Whatever that means.” Brunnhilde shrugs. “Normal is all relative. Odin, I need a drink.”

The plane ride is over too quickly and the ride to New Asgard even shorter. The village is large but not much larger than the town you’d grown up in. Plenty of houses and public spaces but nothing like a cityscape.

You’re surprised by the more modest choices they’ve made for their homes. Simple houses with wood siding and strong rooftops.

That is, most of the village is modest. Almost at the center of the largest grouping of buildings is a large multi-storied palace.

Just as it did the first time you saw it when you’d been brought for the meeting, you gasp when you see it, admiring the beauty of the structure bathed in afternoon sunlight.

It reminds you of an old Nordic home you’d seen online only on steroids. Four, maybe five stories? All roofs are tall and sharp, parts covered with moss.

Brunnhilde shows you into the main foyer, large and tall room that allows space large enough for people to stand and chat. Here she leaves you and David with a young Asgardian woman. She looks as if she can’t be more than seventeen but from what you know about Asgardian aging, she’s probably hundreds of years old.

She escorts you both to your new room, and you and David gasp at the sight.

Even though it’s smaller than the sitting room you’d been in when you met with Thor before, there’s a large bed immediately to the right, covered in luxurious plum and silver silk sheets. A large dark brown bear skin rug covers the center of the floor. To the left is an extravagant dark oak armoire, beside it a matching vanity with a low cushioned and backless seat.

On the far wall, between two sets of heavy wooden double doors that lead out to a balcony sits a desk and another seat with a black cushion, the same style as the vanity’s chair.

There’s a low hanging chandelier made of intricately twisted wood, reinforced with dark steel. The design of it makes you think there should be candles, but instead you find it furnished with small flame-shaped lightbulbs.

Along each of the walls are beautiful artworks, one of a singular mountain you’ve never seen on Earth. Another a golden palace with a sky of literal space above and behind it. There’s a smaller painting almost right above the bed and the likeness of it is so precise, you gasp again.

David follows your gaze with his mouth hanging open a little but then he chuckles. It’s a throaty sound as he turns away from you and moves further into the room with your bag while you deposit your purse on the bed, eyes glued to the painting.

“These Asgardians seem to be experts at everything.” David says, conversationally. “Their architecture, their music, their wits in battle. It seems even their art is exceptional.”

You’re still too busy staring to reply.

When David speaks again, he’s right beside you, voice dropped in volume.

“It must really look like him, to have you rendered speechless.” He observes.

“Yes.” You agree. “Just like him. Only now he has the eyepatch. He looks the same with two eyes. Less rugged but the same.”

“And he will remain the same, long after you’ve died, I think.” David admits.

“Yeah…” You swallow, looking down at the bottom of the frame.

The thought had only begun to occur to you when you’d been making your way through the city after Brunnhilde had confessed to being over a thousand years older than Thor and Loki.

“For Thor, this marriage will pass in the blink of an eye.” You sigh, feeling a little saddened by truth of that.

You turn around and sit down on the bed, resting your hands on your knees limply as you stare at the floor.

David squats before you, forearms on his knees.

“You’re serving a great purpose.” He tells you. “Ensuring the safety of the human race. You’re the white flag the Asgardians are waving. History will remember you, Y/N. It will not be in vain.”

Your eyes begin to water, and you nod, knowing he’s right.

“I know I just…” Your head gives an involuntary turn towards Thor’s portrait, but you manage to keep yourself from looking. “He’s in love with someone already. And, yeah, I’d never thought about being with someone before. But now that I’m faced with it, now that I know I’ll be his wife—I don’t know that I don’t want him to like me.”

“He may come around.” David consoles. “You’re a pretty girl and nice, even though you bite.”

His teasing draw a small curve of your lips. The levity however is quickly lost at the prospect of your life stretched out before you, never knowing love as your husband covets another woman.

This isn’t what you’d expected. To be fair you hadn’t expected anything, but now the idea of being married to Thor knowing that he’d much prefer if you were someone else hurts you in a way you didn’t know had been possible.

This ache in your chest feels strange and vivid and unbearable.

Your tears flow. David sighs and reaches up to wipe your cheeks, pulling you in for a hug.

Taking his offered comfort, you hide your face against his shoulder, allowing yourself these few moments to really feel the anxiety and sadness this whole thing has brought.

“I’m sorry.” David tells you, his voice steady but sad. “I wish I could give you a better life. I know that this is not what you parents would have wanted.”

You pull back, shaking your head as you gather yourself. “No, David. You’ve been the most supportive person in my life. This is how it’s supposed to be. Otherwise, why would I have the ancestors I have, right?”

David sighs, reaching up to wipe at your cheek.

“Besides, it’s not like I’ll be truly suffering. Not like other people do. I’ll have a good roof over my head, food, money won’t be a worry. How many other people my age can say that?”

David’s gaze becomes skeptical and he purses his thin lips a little. “Is that really how you feel?”

“Fuck no. This whole thing is complete shit.” You argue, then laugh as David chuckles too.

“There’s that fighting spirit. Keep that fire, Princess, and you’ll find a way through this.” He says, and the way the word Princess rolls of his lips makes you feel the way you’d always thought you’d feel had your dad lived to be a part of your life.

“You say that like it’s easy.” You sigh.

Before he can answer, there’s a knock on the door and it opens.

Both you and David shoot up to your feet as Loki walks in.

He’s smiling politely until he sees your face.

“I’m sorry. Am I intruding?” Loki wonders, as you quickly wipe away the tears left on your cheeks.

“No.” You shake your head quickly, voice thicker than when you arrived because of your break down. “No. Of course not. Come in.”

He doesn’t look convinced and his brow is furrowed as he looks you both over then stands with his hands behind his back. He looks neat and exotic wearing a pair of dark pants, a black top with embellishments in stunning emerald, a thin golden chain connecting each side of his high collar to the other.

“I’ve come to make sure that you find the clothing we’ve left for you.” Loki gestures at the armoire.

“I’m-I can’t wear what I brought?” You ask, pressing your hand to your chest, unintentionally sniffing.

“Tonight, you will meet with my brother’s court. It is a formal event that you must attend wearing slightly more traditional Asgardian garb.” Loki replaces his hands behind his back. “Brunnhilde has chosen something she thought would be your color. You have an hour then we’ll send your maid in to fetch you.”

You nod.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Loki asks again.

“You’re surprisingly worried.” You tell him, David moving to open the armoire and get a look at what you’re going to have to wear.

Loki’s face quickly shifts into a smile, his eyes averted as he nods.

“I hear you were the only person other than Thor who chose me.” You sit back down slowly, your hands softly skating over the cool silky sheets. “Why?”

“You were a breath of fresh air.” He admits. “Compared to the other candidates, you seemed the only one with her feet on the ground.”

Looking away from him you pinch the plum sheets.

“Is that why Thor chose me too?” You ask, knowing it isn’t the reason he chose you.

“Whatever the reason,” Loki begins, and his voice is stern enough to draw your gaze. “I’m certain my brother has nothing but honorable intentions. He’s always been the good one.”

“I think that’s true.” You nod, “He has always been the good one, if the stories are to be believed.”

“I make no excuses for who I was.” Loki assures you.

“But I think you and I both know that Thor’s intentions when it comes to me are anything but honorable.” You smile sadly. “I really hate lying. Let’s not lie to each other. We’re family, right? Or will be.”

Loki’s look remains somber, his eyes far away for a moment.

“You’re the right woman for the job. That is the truth.” Loki admits.

“I guess we’ll see.”

Loki nods. “One hour, your highness.”

His words give you a shock, and your left gaping at him as he leaves and shuts the door behind him.

“Well, that sounded strange.” David admits, “But not as strange as this dress. Well, perhaps strange is not the right word.”

You’re still reeling from the your highness as you get and walk to David that it takes your eyes a moment to process the sight before you.

“I am not wearing that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t breathe in this thing!” You whine, hooking your fingers into the ultra-high neckline of your dress.

It’s more like a cage, this piece that goes around your throat and shoulders. It connects to a slightly see-through bodice with soft split threads lining the length of the dress, underneath the top, silver layer is a soft pink one that stands pretty against your skin. It gives the dress depth and offers a pleasant backdrop for the waterfall skirt as it fans out around your feet.

The lattice neckpiece connects to the dress’s neckline with four stiff wire connectors wrapped in the same silver fabric as the rest of the dress.

Your hair, your maid expertly gathered atop your head, shaping it to look as much like you as it can but also keeping it contained with several silver Celtic knot-looking clips. She’d added very little color to your face, telling you that Thor had requested you look as much like yourself as possible so that his court could see the real you.

Even so, you’re overwhelmed by what you see in the mirror as you pass a particularly large one as you and David make your way to the dining hall.

“Don’t fret.” David tells you, reaching over to stop your wringing hands. “Just be yourself. That’s why he chose you.”

“So, what you’re saying is to not be myself.” You nod. “Got it.”

David pulls you to a stop, turning you to face him. Your maid, Estrid, keeps walking a bit then stops leaving you both some space.

“I want you to remember something, Y/N.” David says, low and quiet so that only you can hear him. Well, he doesn’t know that Asgardians have better than human hearing, but whatever. “These people, they need you. They need you. More than you will ever need them.

“Without you, they might have to leave Earth because Thor will never turn against the human race. I don’t know why. We’re not that great.” David shrugs, and your mouth pops open as you breathe a pained gasp.

In this moment, with David’s helpful words, you’re provided with astounding clarity.

“She’s human.” You realize, eyes watering.

It happens so quickly, your breath catches, brain in a frenzy, hands shaking, sweating, your tears flow freely.

You’ve never cried so much in your life and you understand now that this will be your new state of being because what else can you do when you’ve knowingly given your life to a man who loves another human woman which only means that she will also only live for a short time and that means that Thor doesn’t have a lot of time with her so, of course he’ll want to be with her until the day she dies, because she’s the one he really wants to be with, and you’re just the tool to use so that he can stay here with her.

What kind of life have you fated yourself to?

“Your Highness?” Estrid asks, concern painting her voice as you shake your head, too panicked to speak.

David moves you towards the wall, pressing you against it to lean as Estrid moves closer to peek at you.

“Might I be of assistance?” She offers and David turns a smile on her.

“A glass of water, perhaps?”

Estrid hurries away giving you and David the hallway.

“Y/N?” He says, voice hard. “Breathe.”

You look at him, focus on the streak of white in his hair as it falls forward to hang across his brow.

It helps and you shut your mouth and breathe in deep through your nose.

He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls from it a white handkerchief. With gentle fingers, he coaxes your face up so that he can carefully wipe the tear stains from your cheeks. He takes a bit of the blush they’d put on you, but you don’t care, and he doesn’t either.

“What is it that troubles you? Tell me.” He urges you.

“Um…” You begin, chin quivering and making your voice shake a little. “…I-I-I don’t know how I’m going to be married to him when I kn-know that he really wants to be with s-someone else. I don’t know how…how…how…”

David sighs, shaking his head as he caresses yours. “Then you look elsewhere too. If he sees fit to be with someone else while you’re married, then you deserve to experience love too. Take a lover. Be discreet. No one will know and you will both get what you want.”

“Isn’t that wrong?” You half cry. “I mean, aren’t wives and husbands s-supposed to be faithful?”

David smiles, pulling your head down to kiss your forehead. “Then give him a chance to change his mind. If he doesn’t love you by the end of the year, then he’s a bigger fool than I already think he is. A downright dumbass.”

“I don’t like the idea of someone being with me when they don’t want to be.” You admit.

And David doesn’t need you to explain that this stems from living in the school, waiting for adoption only to never be chosen.

You’ve finally been picked, and this is what it’s for?

“Do you want me to come to dinner? I can insist on it.” He promises. “I’ll even make a scene.”

You shut your eyes and sob once, David pulls you against his chest and once more you hide your face against his shoulder.

Both of you hear her steps before you see her and yet, when you turn to accept your water, you’re frozen as you find yourself face to face with Thor.

He’s dressed beautifully, in black leather trousers, stitched with thick visible charcoal colored strips of more leather. His torso is covered in what you’d consider light armor. More leather pieces in deep gold tones except for the arms which are covered in metallic scales that shine under the hallway lights. His shoulders are draped in a floor length cape, black, thinner than the one you’ve seen him wear before.

A more casual cape, you suppose.

Both you and David are absolutely still, confused by Thor’s sudden appearance.

“I uh…” Thor looks uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he gestures behind him with his right hand, in his left a glass of water. “Estrid looked upset. She said you weren’t feeling well?”

There’s genuine concern in his voice and it surprises you enough to wipe away most of your worries for now.

“I’m fine.” You assure him.

David clears his throat. “I should go. I have my own dinner to eat.”

“No, please. Join us.” Thor rushes to invite him, gesturing back towards the dining hall again.

“No, no. Really.” David uses his hand to refuse, then reaches down to give your hand a squeeze. “Can I trust you to escort Y/N to dinner?”

Your heart swells for David, once again, the father you never had.

“Of course.” Thor nods, smiling at David before moving to you, seeing this as permission to move closer maybe? “I take full responsibility.”

There’s a twinge of bitterness in your chest, a rolling in your stomach as you see David narrow his eyes at Thor.

“I’m going to hold you to that, God of Thunder.” He threatens, and Thor seems to realize it’s a threat because he looks startled. However, he smiles and plays it off quickly, nodding. “Have a good dinner, princess.”

David gives your hand one more squeeze before leaving you and Thor to whatever awkward conversation you’re about to have.

Thor waits until you’re both alone in the hallway before he holds out the glass of water he’d brought for you.

“Have you been crying?” He wonders, voice soft and gentle. Deep too, it settles in your chest and makes you feel stupid for liking it.

“Just a little.” You admit.

“Why?”

“I’m nervous.” And that isn’t a lie. “And apprehensive.”

Also, not a lie.

“And I don’t trust you.” You confess, feeling no qualms about the shock that flits across his rugged face.

“What did I do?” He cries.

“You told me you’re in love with someone else who won’t marry you.” You sigh, taking a long drink of your water. “I’m not exactly excited to be marrying someone who already wants to be with someone else.”

Understanding shifts his expression and he nods, reaching up to scratch at the side of his chin.

“I’ll be honest,” He begins, offering you his arm as you lower your glass. “It was never something I expected either. After watching my parents love each other for many years, their marriage was something I hoped I could experience.”

“Then why didn’t you fight harder for this woman you love? Convince your court! She’s human, right? I’m sure the Earth Ambassadors would be happy to have you marry any human.” You reason, still hoping to get out of this even if the only thing you hate about this now is the fact that he’s in love with someone else.

That fantasy marriage you’d painted for yourself has taken over your inexperienced brain and planted a seed within your heart and you feel like a fool for it.

“They were fine with it. Jane is not ready for marriage and I cannot force her to marry me if she doesn’t want to.” Thor laments, truly sounding sad about her refusal.

“Doesn’t she care that you’re marrying someone else?” You wonder, watching his expression as he begins to lead you towards the dining hall.

“In a way.” Thor nods. “She and I want to be together, but Jane is devoted to her work. She could not make the time for the obligations marrying me would entail.”

“Sounds selfish.” You observe, hating Jane a bit because she has what you didn’t know you wanted. Maybe not exactly Thor himself yet, but the love he has for her.

Thor says nothing for a moment, thinking probably. He stops walking and you stop beside him.

“I would not want her to give up her passions. In marrying me, Jane would lose her identity. Which is too important to her to give up. I could never ask her to do it.”

“Because you love her.” You agree.

“Yes.”

“Which is why you find it so easy to do it to me.” You explain, realizing it as you speak it. “Because you don’t care about me. Therefore, my identity has little value. To you.”

Thor’s speechless, staring at you as your own heart pounds. You don’t know where you conjured the audacity to say the words out loud as they came to you, but they’re true. Truer than even you know.

“I do care.” Thor argues softly, looking at your hand wrapped around his bicep.

“You don’t, Thor.” You shake your head, politely disagreeing.

“Yes, I do!” He argues, this time a little more heated.

“What do I do for a living?” You challenge and he stutters, thinking hard.

He furrows his brow, crinkly creases at the corners of his eyes as he ponders.

You observe it’s loveliness. Truly a creature of perfection even with the gold and black metal patch over his eye. If he cared about you, you might actually fall for him. If he gave two shits, you might be a goner.

“Your family left you an inheritance!” He points out, as if this is what you do.

“You don’t remember?” You ask, knowing the answer. “I told you when we met, though I only mentioned it in passing.”

“How am I expected to remember then? If you were not specific?” He retorts.

“If I’d been Jane, you would have remembered.” You tell him.

“No.” He disagrees. “I’m always this inattentive.”

You laugh once, shocked by his candor. “You’re such a liar.”

“I’m not! Ask anyone once we’re seated. They’ll all tell you that I never pay attention or listen. To anyone!” He insists, and you laugh again because he’s being sincere.

His gaze is slight shock as he looks at you, then it softens, and he chuckles with you.

“Why are you laughing?” You ask him.

“I don’t know.” He chuckles again. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, I suppose.”

This sobers you and your laugh dies off.

“Can I ask a favor?” You look at him, trying to read him like you’ve never tried to do so to anyone before.

“Of course.” He nods.

“I know you don’t love me. And I know that the likelihood of you loving me at any point in our marriage is nonexistent, but I really want to try and make this marriage work. I want it to be as real as possible.

“Which means I want you to be honest with me about everything. I don’t want any secrets. I don’t want to think you’re talking to or meeting Jane because you’re acting suspicious. If you have to see her,” And he seems to understand that you mean, if he feels like he needs to for his own sake, because he loves her. “I want to know that’s what you’re doing. Please, don’t make a fool of me, Thor.”

Thor considers you for a moment, absorbing your words as you wait for his response.

Instead of giving you what you want, he gives you a long head-to-toe. “I was right to choose this gown.”

He chose it?

“You look exquisite. Just as a princess should.” He admires. “Come, let’s go introduce you to my friends.”

As he pulls you towards the dining hall, your heart begins to pound again as nervous energy courses through your veins setting your limbs to white noise again. Tingly.

“They’re all very eager to meet the woman who will be Queen of Asgard.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You worry.

Thor chuckles.

“I’m right there with you.”

[dat-town]

poison like you

Characters: princess!you & guard!Xukun feat. king!Yixing

Genre: historical, fantasy, royalty, bit of enemies to lovers, bit of childhood sweetheart to lovers, bit of i’d die for you, angst with hopeful open ending

Warnings: blood, violence, murder, poisoning and death

Summary: If you wanted to kill the last son of the Dragon Clan, first you needed to get through his right hand man. Too bad he knew you too well but it felt like you didn’t know him at all.

Words: 11.1k

Author’s note: please note that even though this historical fantasy is inspired by ancient China, it is not historically accurate because it isn’t set in any certain era or even at any existing place. the governor structure and politics might be confusing but this is basically about a lot of small kingdoms (called clans) having a never ending war for more power over the area. Chinese mythical creatures exist in this world but have gone almost extinct during the wars. to know how i imagine this world, watch Lay’s Lit mv!

for the one&only @lily-blue​ 💕

As the only daughter of the Jade Clan's head, you had your responsibilities. To your father, his men and all the people under them. Most importantly, you had to do everything in order to protect the Clan. When the Dragon Clan started expanding its territory, winning over more and more land, becoming more and more powerful, you knew that no army could fight theirs, so you had to go to the war with wits instead of swords.

When your father proposed the idea of a reunion between the two Clans by marrying you to the son of the Dragon, you hated it. The other Clan was everything you despised: ruthless, brutal, selfish and while you knew arranged marriage was your future, you didn't want to rule next to a tyrant. But when your father said that this would be the perfect chance for you to kill their leader and rule over the united clans yourself, it suddenly wasn't that bad of a plan. Although you never wanted a huge empire and you didn't want the responsibility over so many people, freeing them from a bloody rule sounded like the best you could do. Especially now that the man needed an heir to secure his bloodline and power.

It took ridiculously few letters between your father and Zhang Yixing before you were off, on the road with only a chest of your belongings and another one full of gold and other jewels as marriage gifts. You had your most trusted maids and soldiers with you but otherwise you were alone, alone with your plan to poison your husband-to-be. Surely, you didn't think it was going to be easy while being surrounded by his people in a palace but getting there, the dark monstrum of a building wasn't like how you imagined your future to be. Everything wore the pattern of dragon scales, the city burned in the colours of fire and ash, even the waters were dark. People wore black clothes and wore their hair down without many accessories but despite the grayness of the place, the men and women you ran into didn't seem unhappy or living in fear. They must not have known any other life, so you felt sorry for them.

You were escorted to a chamber right away and compared to the light flowery room you were used to at home, this was very different but you didn't complain. Instead you inquired about Zhang Yixing's whereabouts and when you could meet him but the maid told you that he had a meeting with his generals, so you couldn't see him until the next day when you were supposed to have lunch together. You thanked her for enlightening you and after blaming your fatigue on the long voyage, you requested to be left alone. Opening your box of accessories, you pulled out a small glass bottle with yellow liquid inside. A few drops of it was enough to put a man to sleep, a whole spoon was surely death, so your only job was to get time alone with your fiance. Until then, you needed to play your cards well.

You were quite restless and maybe a bit paranoid but you couldn’t sleep during the night fearing that someone might attack you. Even though you knew you were now under the protection of the ruler of the Clan just by being Zhang Yixing’s fiancée, it didn’t calm your traitorous heart. You have seen enemies in every corner and yet, you raised your chin high, confident and proud when you were called to that lunch with your man to be.

Followed by a bunch of maids, you walked to the room on which Yixing decided and you took your seat on the opposite end of the long table full of delicious goods. The young king was already there, his pitch black hair falling into his almond-shaped dark eyes as he looked up at you sternly, eyes narrowing as if he wanted to see through you. His skin was pale against his black clothes that were simpler than you would have thought of a tyrant. You had never met him before but you heard stories of him and you heard descriptions of his looks. However, he was younger than you had expected, only a few years older than you, but with his defined jawline and rigid expression you could imagine him being the one behind the destruction of your neighbours.

He didn’t greet you but signalled that you should start eating and tentatively you reached out for the rice, chopsticks freezing in your hold as soon as he spoke up in a raspy voice.

"It's quite unexpected, your father's wish to join hands," he said calmly and it sounded like a challenge or a test, you couldn’t tell but you didn’t like the tone he was using to talk about your father. As if he was a weakling crawling to his feet.

"Is it?” you raised an eyebrow, daring to look straight into his cold eyes, watching his every move, every twitch. “I think it's a very reasonable timing. After all, you just reached our borders," you explained because he must have known there were not many choices you could take: it was either seeking peace or a war and your nation was a peaceful one, hence you would have done anything to keep it that way.

“Is your father afraid of me?” Yixing questioned and you bet he wanted to believe that, that he could scare the Jade Clan’s head. But your father was a born strategist, he always had a plan.

“Isn’t that why you’re doing this? You want other nations to fear you?” you counterattacked with a question, knowing the lesson yourself as well: If you cannot be loved, you must be feared.

You were well aware that it was a reckless thing to challenge the king. He might have been your fiance on paper but he could have just lifted his hand and have you killed and everybody you had with you to make it look like you were attacked on the road, never reaching his palace. However, for the first time since you had seen him, the man ahead of you looked amused, the corners of his mouth curling upwards.

"You have a sharp tongue for a princess," he said and it almost sounded like a compliment. You took pride in that with a raise of your chin.

"I'm the only child of the Jade Clan's head. I have learned how to wield any kind of weapon," you answered confidently. You might not have been an undefeated warrior but you had learned how to protect yourself and you knew too well that spoken words could cause just as harm as knives sometimes. But still, it seemed to make the young king interested as he bobbed his head towards you, leaning forward with his elbows balancing on the table.

"We could test that. Are you good at archery?" he asked, probably with the intention to invite you for a game. But his smugness irked you because he made it sound like he expected you to lose no matter what. So you did the least princess-like and least wise thing you could have done in that moment: you pulled your hairpin out, letting your long locks fall onto your shoulders before swinging your arm forward and letting the pin fly forward.

In the next moment two interestings things happened. Not only Yixing’s guards weren’t by your side, forcing you down or even killing you for your brazen act but he himself didn’t move. He looked into your eyes without fear and without anger. At the same time, you saw a shadow move so fast you didn’t think it was possible for a human and his sword hit you hairpin out of its path before it could have landed in the painting behind Yixing’s throne, hitting the dragon on it in the eye. The soldier, guard or whoever he was, wore black just like his ruler but there was a textil mask in front of his face, so he must have been a special kind of warrior. Not that you cared, your attention was back on Yixing immediately.

"You tell me... do you think I would be good at it?" you asked, finding the silence a bit unsettling, it was almost like the calm before the storm. But then the king laughed and you were baffled.

“What a bride you will make,” he tilted his head and then finally, you started eating.

 You were aware that you were lucky that you hadn’t been executed for that bold move you had made but it only ensured you that Zhang Yixing needed you. Or at least what you represented: the peace deal with your nation and a secured future bloodline. He could have probably forgiven as much. Or was he really that sure that either you miss the target or his guard would save him? You weren't sure but since you needed to know about his most trusted men anyways, you asked your maids about the masked figure. They didn’t know much, so you gave them the task to ask around among the Dragon Clan’s servants. You needed to know who your enemies were and where they laid. You also needed to know the palace as best as you could in case you needed an escape route or a secret passage to get to Yixing faster than anyone.

Hence, your night escapades started: once night have fallen, you pulled out a dark, comfortable clothing usually men wore and tied your hair high to not get into your way as you climb out of your window, up to the roof from where you could see the U-shaped building complex, knowing exactly where you should go: towards the king’s quarters. Running from rooftop to rooftop reminded you of your childhood when you practiced hide and seek in the palace back home. Your father had taught you how important it was to remain invisible and his advice still stayed with you as you made sure to dissolve into the shadows as you jumped to the gardens: step lightly, breath lightly like air in the morning but listen well and open your eyes because the smallest sounds, the smallest movements can be your enemy’s.

There were two guards in front of what you thought was Yixing’s suite but you didn’t care about that. You were more interested in the room where he planned his strategies to see if he really wanted to march through your home and bring war there just to conquer your other neighbours too. But before you could reach for the wooden door, you heard a shush and you crouched down just in time for the dagger to land in the wood instead of you. You bolted immediately, making a run for it, stepping up on a barrel you jumped onto the roof, so you could find a hiding place. You were prepared for such a thing. If things went South, you just needed to sneak back to your room, under the blanket and act alarmed when they banged on your door. You might have been from another Clan but nobody would have disrespected a princess by checking what she wore while sleeping and none of your maids would have said anything against you.

But you didn’t reach your quarters. No matter how lightly and in the shadows you tried to step, the one who followed you must have been really good because from one moment to another you felt yourself being hauled down from the roof, onto the ground. You and the man (based on his build) fell down together and lucky for you, it was him whose back hit the grass first with you on top of him. It gave you a bit of advantage to get to your feet immediately but you didn’t get far away. Dodging the man’s attacks, you had to admit that his training was very good, no fighter made it so hard for you to get even one hit and you grunted in annoyance when your back hit the wall of the stable. It was a full moon, so it was dark, only some tinkling light illuminating the palace for which you were grateful but it also gave you disadvantage because unlike your attacker you didn’t know this place. You felt a sudden pressure on your chest as a strong arm was pressed against it, a blade close to your neck but you only saw a silhouette.

“Speak, are you just a thief or a spy?” he asked, his voice sounding younger, softer than you expected but there was something dangerous to it. You didn’t wait enough to find out what it  was. You tightened your grip around the ceramic cup you had picked up earlier and smashed it against his head. You had indeed learned how to use everything as a weapon.

For a moment, it looked as if the guard’s eyes flashed gold in the moonlight but you were too busy running away, into the stable, scaring the horses and hiding behind a straw pile, controlling your breathing until the man who had come after you gave up and left.

You hissed when you touched the wound on your fair skinned neck. It wasn’t deep and didn’t hurt a lot but it was obviously a blade wound, one that a princess shouldn’t have. So to hide it, you brushed your head over your shoulders before you left for your archery practice with Zhang Yixing who wished to see your skills for real. He greeted you with an expectant smile to which you bobbed your head politely.

You didn’t talk much while taking turns, shooting arrows but you carefully and discreetly eyed his guards when it was the king’s turn, wondering if one of them was the one from the day before. Not that you could have told with their masks on.

After practice (you lost but only because you didn’t try too hard), you went to eat fruits in the gardens and you learned that Yixing was about to leave to check on his Eastern borders. He would be away for at least a week but promised to get the wedding preparations started with his servants. You knew that was why you came but still, it made you nervous as it meant you had less time.

“Princess!” A sudden, unexpected voice called after you when you were ready to leave with your maids. Nobody other than Yixing had initiated a conversation with you since you arrived, everyone waited for you to step first. So you were curious what this man, one of the king’s closest guards, could have wanted from you. Turning around, you saw him holding out your hairpin, the one you had thrown towards Yixing the first time you had seen him, the one someone dodged, could it be…

You looked up at the young man, his hair, somewhat ruffled in his forehead, mask covering his face under his eyes. He didn’t look at you, he casted his eyes down like a good servant would.

“Thank you,” you spoke up, a bit uncertain and there was a flicker in the guard’s eyes the moment he glanced up at you after his gaze lingered on your neck: something familiar yet scary but you blinked and it was over. You took the hairpin and left, your dress sweeping the floor behind you. That guard made you feel uneasy for some reason.

The next day Yixing indeed left and when you didn’t bump into the man from the other night for the next three days you were starting to think that he went with the ruler as well. It was only after you managed to sneak into the king’s room and out when you had to realize just how wrong you had been. You knew something was off the moment you stepped into your quarters. Your guards weren’t outside of your doors and the candle you left there lit up burnt out. It was already cold to touch when you lit it again which meant it must have blown out when your intruder opened the door earlier. You pulled out your sword and pointed it ahead of you, alarmed. Your shadow danced on the walls as the candle light flickered.

“It’s been a while… Princess,” the intruder spoke up much too calmly for someone who broke into a royal’s room. You could have gotten him killed for that but you froze. Not only because he must have known about your night adventures but because the playful tint of his voice was somewhat familiar.

The shadow stepped out from the corner, hands held up, defensive, revealing the guard from earlier. You furrowed your brows, not lowering the sword, not until the other pulled down his mask and the man you faced made you gasp.

“Xukun...” you whispered, almost whimpered, and you felt your knees weaken. But he– you thought he was dead.

“I think we have a lot to talk about,” he suggested with a hint of a smile and you couldn’t agree more.

You could still barely believe that it was Cai Xukun in front of you, alive and grown up unlike the boy you had last seen him as. The boy you practiced fighting with, the son of your father’s general, your childish first love. He had never known, of course, you never had a future to begin with but still. You remembered being sixteen and so in love, secretly gushing everytime he had brought you wild roses saying they reminded him of you. But then at eighteen, he had gone off to a battle and never came back. You remembered the crinkle around his eyes as he joked, telling you not to worry, he wasn’t that easy to kill. Apparently, he was right but you didn’t understand what he was doing in the Royal Palace of the Dragon Clan as one of the high rank guards when he was supposed to be back at your home. If his father still lived, what would he have said about his son becoming a traitor?

“I knew it was you,” he spoke up, eyes a mixed colour, mouth in a thin line. You looked at him questioningly. Then he pointed at your neck without a word and you reached for the now scar on your throat. “Obviously, I didn’t know then. Sorry.”

“Why didn’t you report me then?” you asked directly, looking straight into his eyes and you let your gaze linger on the slope of his nose, the corners of his mouth, the sharp line of his jaw. He had grown up, he was more handsome than ever. “Or why didn’t you kill me during the past two days when you were following me?”

“So you knew,” Xukun nodded at you, impressed but you just raised an eyebrow. You had a guess. Everything was too easy, too quiet. When you didn’t answer, the once boy now man standing in front of you sighed as if he carried the weight of the world with him. “You should know I would never hurt you.”

You scoffed at him. You would have been naive to believe him and you weren’t a child anymore. Hell, you came here to kill the king.

“How could I be sure? It’s been years, Xukun, and you were nowhere! You gave no signs that you were alive and here you are, in an enemy clan serving their ruthless ruler?!” you spat at him and you knew that your words were harsh, that your tone was cold but honestly, you knew a barely 18 years old boy and not the young man who was in front of you. You were conflicted to say the least.

“Zhang Yixing isn’t ruthless,” Xukun corrected you. Of all things you said, he found this the most obnoxious thing you had told him out of all, he decided to correct that. You wondered why. Why was he loyal to him? Why when you had only known him to be a murderer and someone who dared you to show him her best shot?

“Isn’t he? Then how does he keep destroying these nations around us? He burnt the Moon Clan to the ground for the deities’ sake!” your voice rose by the end and you had to remind yourself to stay quiet. It would have been a scandal if someone knew you had a man in your room while your fiance was away. Your whole plan would have gone down the gutter if your reputation was ruined just like that. But you heard all the stories: the massacre in the West, the burnt towns in the South, the sunk ships at the sea. They were his doing or so people said.

“That… that wasn’t him,” Xukun objected, so sure of himself that it almost made you feel sick. “And it’s a war either way. There are no saints here. Your father isn’t one either.”

You knew how wars were fought, you knew that everybody including you was a sinner, you had both grown up in a world where you knew nothing but neverending fights, losing loved ones and never knowing safety. Yet, when the boy who your father thought of fondly dared to call him out, anger flared in you.

“My father sent his only daughter to marry a tyrant to save his people from suffering, so don’t talk about him like you knew him!”

Maybe it wasn’t what you said but how you said it, the sword you still hadn’t let go of trembling in your hand but Xukun paused, licked his lip in consideration and his voice was softer when he continued:

“I can prove that Zhang Yixing isn’t as ruthless as you think he is,” he claimed but you didn’t really care about that. You wanted to know why he was there, in the Dragon Clan instead at what you had known as a home.

“Does it have something to do with why you never came back? Like you promised,” you reminded him, sounding bitter at the memory. Gosh, you had been such a child. But who could have blamed you? He smiled and it tipped your whole world back then. But he just visibly gulped now, so you must have been right.

“I owe him my life,” he said curtly and you sucked in a breath, wondering whether he meant it figuratively or literally. You didn’t have to ask, Xukun kept talking as if now that he started, a river flood. “When the Phoenix Clan attacked us 5 years ago, I was captured. They must have known that my father was a general and they wanted to get to him. When they took me in front of their leader, Yixing was also there, barely a boy not much older than me, caught while sneaking into the tent while stealing maps on a mission for his father. They confused him for someone from the Jade Clan and thought he came for me. They let him go to pass a message to my father and then they left me in the desert far enough from the battlefield with an open wound. I was so sure I would die.”

You had imagined before how it happened. How he died, or so you had thought. You’d had nightmares about it. Seeing his beautiful eyes wide open in shock and pain. You’d imagined it on the battlefield but his body was never found. The nearby river had been red though, so you thought maybe… But it was all wrong. He was never really there.

Xukun unconsciously touched his abdomen with a grimace on his face and you wondered whether he felt the phantom pain of the stab but he kept talking without addressing that.

“The next thing I remember is waking up to being carried on horseback and Yixing yelling for a medic. I wouldn’t have thought he would come back for me, we didn’t even know each other after all,” he stopped short at that as if he was still dumbfounded that the heir of the Dragon Clan saved him then. Honestly, in his place you had been too. Maybe Yixing hadn’t had his reputation back then but you were still enemies. “When the royal medic told him I’m a lost case, he took me to a shaman and they made me drink something that cured my wound by the next day.”

“Dragon blood,” you whispered in shock when Xukun gave you a meaningful look.

There was no other way but the magical powers of dragons. Although there were more rumours than credible sources on that, nobody denied that any essence of the heavenly, snake-like creature could save lives. But there were too few of them, maybe exactly because humans dared to hunt them down for either their scales, antlers or their blood, you wouldn’t have thought it was still possible. Yixing must have paid a fortune to save someone whom he barely knew.

“See why I can’t go back home?” Xukun asked and mouth open in agapé, you casted your eyes down.

Such medication… such witchcraft was illegal in Jade nation. He would have been branded as a monster and exiled even if he went back. Dragons and creatures like that were considered sacred in your home.

“Where did they even get dragon blood from? Nobody has seen a dragon in years,” you took a shallow breath, trying to work through your messy thoughts.

“What do you think caused the fire at Moon nation?” Xukun asked knowingly and with hope in his eyes resembled the boy you had once known. He hoped you would believe him and you did but it wasn’t easy to digest all this new information.

The two of you just looked at each other in silence, a heavy one, before the sounds of the midnight patrol startled you. Hushed, you blew out the candle light, leaving you in the dark, speaking in hushed voices.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do but… please, don’t go against Yixing. I might not be able to save you then,” Xukun spoke up, his deep voice echoing in the room, you clenched your hands in fists. As if he was there to save you in the last years when you would have needed him.

“I don’t need you to save me,” you told him, hurt clear in your voice but he didn’t say anything. He left without saying a word, wind whizzing into your room as he became one with the shadows outside. His last words left you wondering. Would he have died for Yixing, even in his place even if the weapon was in your hands?

You told yourself it wasn’t because of Xukun but you didn’t sneak into the king’s quarters in the next few days. Instead you wrote a letter to your father telling him about recent events and what you have found out about the Dragon Clan’s plans based on what you had found in the strategy meeting room. You entrusted one of your best guards with the letter and sent him home.

Days had passed uneventfully then but only until Zhang Yixing and his men came back with news that knocked air out of your lungs: the Eagle Clan attacked the weakened eastern wing of your nation. You knew they had become daring lately no matter how your father wished to keep it a secret from you but it was still all too sudden. Your army wasn’t ready to not only stand guard in case you got attacked from the South but now from the sunrise side as well.

“You cannot tell me to just wait it out!” you rose from your chair at lunch when Yixing told you the news. You felt offended at how calm he was. It must have been just another attack for him, but for you, it was your home.

“What else could a princess do?” he raised an eyebrow at you challengingly and you would have liked to sneer at him.

“I’m not the type of princess you think I am,” you claimed, hating that he probably thought you were used to letting other people fight your battles for you. Just because your father didn’t let you go into the war because you were the sole heir of the clan, it didn’t mean you couldn’t have. But now, as Yixing’s fiancée you didn’t even have much choice. You knew you shouldn’t go against his words or he might dance back on his agreement with your father. But you panicked, so you did the only thing you could possibly do in such a situation. “What do you want? Do you want to marry immediately, so you would help? Or would you let them destroy my home even then?”

You were desperate, so you would have agreed to anything only if he sent a handful of soldiers to help your people. Hell, if you had become the queen you could have commanded them yourself. But the king seemed to have different ideas.

“I will help. On one condition,” he said slowly, tasting every word and you were holding your breath, waiting for him to reveal what he wished from you. “Show me what type of princess you are then. Let’s not lie to each other about these things, Princess.”

Well, you certainly did not expect that.

“What do you mean?” you stuttered and your heart skipped a beat when the man slid an overly familiar envelope onto the table. You were smart enough to not be obvious about what you wanted to discuss with your father but there were still hints in your letter about things you shouldn’t have known if you were just picking flowers and practicing embroidery like an ordinary princess would have.

“You don’t want to marry me,” the man said and even though it was an accusation, he didn’t make it sound like one. And yet…

“You don’t want to marry me either but it hardly matters what we desire. We come from the bloodline of royals, we have our responsibilities to our people. And my people need me,” you slammed your hand on the table, spilled rice wine pouring like melted snow. You caught one of the masked guards - probably Xukun - turning his head towards you at that.

“You don’t want to be a princess,” Yixing continued and it baffled you. As if you had a choice! “You have the heart of a warrior.”

Well, you couldn’t argue that, so you just gulped, looking over the table, at the man who was a mystery to you. What did he want you to say? You couldn’t possibly admit that you planned to kill him.

“Come with me,” the king said as if it was his ultimatum and there was something knowing in his dark eyes when he explained: “Come with me to the front. Fight with me and then I’ll help the Jade Clan.”

His offer was an interesting one, you didn’t quite get his reason but you nodded anyway. You were ready to fight alongside your people but you didn’t even have to look at Xukun to know he was frowning.

You left the next day, at dawn. You took all your guards with you and Yixing added his own as you departed towards the North… your home. You wore your comfortable man clothes, hair swirling in the air around you as you galloped on your horse next to the others. It took about two days to reach the endangered border, so on the night when you had to set up a tent you could be finally alone a bit. Since you were the only woman you got a separate place and nobody should have bothered you but the tent wasn’t empty when you got in there. Gosh, were your guards so imcompetent or how?

“Reckless of you to sneak into my tent. What would your king say?” you asked, words a bit biting. You didn’t have a chance to talk with Xukun ever since that night in your room and you knew, it could have been indecent to exchange words in front of others even if you explained that you knew each other from before.

“I came exactly because of that,” the once boy explained, sitting near your small table as if you had invited him over for tea. Only because you had known him before you noticed his fidgety fingers as a sign of nervousness. “Did you write about me in the letter he got his hands on?”

Oh. So that was what he was worried about. Disappointment made you taste bile in your mouth. You hated this feeling.

“I’m not stupid,” you told him curtly and turned your back on him to indeed pour some boiled water over tea leaves to soothe your nerves. Honestly, you thought about telling your father about Xukun but then you realized you didn’t know what to write. You weren’t sure what you should have. It wasn’t your place to decide and maybe it was for the better if your father still thought that he was dead.

“He… he has a man watching you. He told me he can’t trust me with that,” Xukun who once had jumped to hover above you when a wooden house fell upon the two of you during a heavy storm sounded pained admitting that. You gulped hearing his words and the worry lacing through them. You didn’t want to think of him caring. He disappeared from your life years ago, he didn’t get to worry about you now.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked, slowly, tentative as you sat by the table across him, putting cups of tea between you. Xukun waited until you looked up, into his deep brown eyes that had the most beautiful golden specks in them you had ever seen. Maybe it was just the lights’ doing but he still took your breath away, unfairly so.

“You need to be careful. He knows you’re up to something,” he pressed, desperate and you forced a smile, a charming, confident one. Oh, Zhang Yixing had no idea what was coming for him if he betrayed you.

“If he helped my people, our people, I wouldn’t have a reason to plot against him, would I?” you voiced out your thoughts, the decision you made on your own. If the king proved to be not as ruthless, just as your old friend claimed, maybe he deserved another chance. So you meant it but Xukun didn’t look convinced.

“Princess, I have something to discuss,” the cold, authoritative voice of the Dragon Clan’s head could be heard from outside and the pace of your heartbeats picked up, whipping your head towards the entrance of your tent then back to Xukun… or where he had been just before. Now, nothing but a smell of smoke lingered after him. You had no idea how he did that.

As it turned out Yixing wanted to discuss the reports he had gotten from the battle and if he had noticed the two cups of steamy tea, he didn’t make a comment on it. The situation was quite bad, the enemy had already gotten over the walls you had pulled up all those years ago. He had already had a man of his own let the Jade Clan general there know that Dragon soldiers were coming to rescue and not to attack, so if things worked out, you could crowd out the attackers from two sides. If you were lucky enough you could bait them towards the river where they were more vulnerable. It didn’t sound like a bad plan at all and hearing Yixing’s strategies, you understood why he had won so many battles but what surprised you was that he didn’t intend to drown everyone in the river or kill them on the spot, he sounded like he hoped they would give up and retreat. You wouldn’t have thought that of the ruthless Zhang Yixing.

Knowing how wars worked was different than being there, in the middle of a battle, sweaty, limbs tired, blood dripping from the end of your sword and a painful bruise blossoming on your left shoulder. You saw red and adrenaline carried you as you shouted and attacked the next man with mace in his hand coming at you.

“Princess!” Someone screamed and you dodged the sword aiming at you just in time but its owner stepped closer, pushing you backwards on the slippery ground. You weren’t strong enough to push him back.

“Princess, huh? How interesting,” the man, covered in dirt and blood not his own, grinned at you, a hand clasping his hand around your throat, squeezing hard. You gasped, clawing at his arm with your free hand because he pushed the one that held the sword close to your chest with his. For the first time in your life, you felt powerless even with a weapon in your hand. You tried to kick and get away from the soldier but you couldn’t and felt disgusted by the names this disgusting leech called you.

You didn’t know how long you had fought back but the noises of the battle started to fade out when suddenly the man was yanked away from you but you still felt his blood splatter across your cheek as a sword pierced through his chest. Panting, gasping for air, you stared at Xukun behind the fallen soldier and he stared back at you, eyes glowing dark and golden. You smelled something burning...

You heard the screams before you had seen the source of sudden panic and shock.

You looked up to where everybody was pointing while running and you had seen a huge dragon appearing above the walls of Jade. Its fur and scales were dark like the night sky except a few gilded ones that looked like burning fire from afar while his antlers were long and ivory. It was terrifying yet beautiful. Its honey-coloured eyes gazed down upon you mere humans and it seemed to have a concrete target in its mind as it flew above you rippling the water and air behind.

Xukun grabbed your arm, trying to pull you away but his touch felt burning too and you couldn’t take your eyes off the dragon that halted in the air, levitating just above the ground, its huge head merely an arm away from Zhang Yixing who stood there alone, unmoving. It reminded you of the day when you threw your hairpin at him, how calm he was and you still couldn’t believe what you saw when the Dragon Clan’s leader lifted a hand and put it on its head as if he was trying to discipline a dog.

Thunder roared above and Xukun managed to pull you away now that everyone had scattered all over hell's half-acre. He took you farther, inside the wall of your nation and you only noticed that he must have been hurt when he stumbled and you had to catch him before he fell.

“Kun!” you shrieked, scared, the old nickname slipping naturally as you put his arm around your shoulder and pulled him inside of a half-destroyed house nearby. Your hands trembled as you let him sit down and then looked around to look for a lantern to light it.

In the dim lit room you kneeled next to the guard, his clothing soaked with his blood and you could see sweat forming on his forehead. How did it happen, you questioned, but it wasn’t the important thing. With a shaky breath, you reached out to peel off the bloody material from his chest to see the sword cut across one shoulder. You hissed seeing the fresh wound and all that blood. You cursed in frustration.

“Shh… it’s okay,” the boy whispered with droopy eyes, taking your hand, weakly pushing it away from the cut.

“It’s not okay,” you argued and you could feel tears in the corner of your eyes. Did he get hurt while trying to get to you? Did he forget to pay attention to himself because he saw you? You felt guilty and you hated that, you didn’t want to be the reason why he was hurt.

“There’s something you should know…” Kun coughed and grunted at the pain flashing through him. He had his eyes shut, teeth clenched and it hurt to look at him. “I– I heal faster than normal… The dragon blood that saved me…”

“I know,” you cut him off, not wanting him to exhaust himself with speaking. You could see him struggle, his eyes bright gold when he opened them briefly. His blood was working its magic.

To be honest, you didn’t know, you just had a guess up until now. His golden flashing eyes, the warmth radiating off him, how fast and soundless he could move or disappear leaving only smoke behind… It was because of the dragon inside of him.

There were legends saying that if a person spared a dragon, it would be bound to him for life and the blood of an alive dragon in a human would create a connection between the two. A connection that could call the other half if one felt threatened. Although it was just a theory, with the intensity of Kun’s eyes on you, the beautiful burning fire in his pupils made you believe you were right, that the dragon appeared because he feared for you.

There was a short cut growl leaving the boy’s mouth and you grabbed his hand, letting him squeeze yours while you could see his skin basically knitting itself back together, the wound closing in as if it had never been there. It might have been only a few minutes but it felt too long with how much it seemed to hurt the boy you had just saved your life. When it was over and he opened his eyes, they were plain brown again – your favourite though – and he looked tired.

Oh, thank the deities, you let out a relieved choked sound and you didn’t even notice you had been crying until Xukun didn’t wipe your tears off your cheek. He looked at you as if he had seen you for the first time, properly at least and you felt your lips tremble. Heavens, you had mourned him once and now you almost lost him again. Suddenly, a rush of emotions rippled through your body, your fingers tentatively touching the freshly healed skin.

“You’re so warm,” you whispered in awe since his skin was hotter than expected and you knew it wasn’t fever caused by the wound.

“Princess...” he muttered oh so gently and his hand, wet with your tears, slipping from your cheek to your neck, caressed your skin just like his voice caressed your soul.

“No,” you stopped him firmly and when confusion flashed in his orbs you told him to call you by your own name. It was a command, a request, a plea. It was everything and a sweet little nothing at the same time.

Kun’s eyes widened at the permission but pushed himself away from the wall to lean closer and he sighed your name into the seam of your mouth. You closed your eyes feeling his hot breath tingling on your lips and when he kissed you, you melted against him like wax melted near fire.

Once the storm passed, you could still feel Kun’s touch on you. It was like a vivid memory and it tasted sweet on your tongue even if you knew you were being naive.

You didn’t talk about it. About what it meant because you both knew you couldn’t. But you were stupid enough to forget about your other problems when you had seen the retreating army. Your people could be a bit more safe at least for a little while.

“Cai Xukun!” Another guard called out when he caught sight of his comrade next to you. He looked panicked and it scared you. What now? The man walking up to your duo looked at you warily before answering the question about his worried expression. “The king is injured.”

Oh. Interesting how it was what you had wanted since you had left home but now that Zhang Yixing was bedridden, you found yourself worrying and by the looks of it Kun too. The two of you were escorted to the king who lay on a makeshift bed, chest wrapped with a cloth that he had already bled through.

“What happened?” you questioned, looking from one soldier to another. This didn’t look like something caused by the dragon’s claws or teeth, it was definitely a human-caused injury and your guess was confirmed when one of the men told you that while he was trying to calm the dragon, someone from afar shot an arrow through him. It made you anxious because what if they captured the dragon? What would that have meant to your people, to Kun?

“And the dragon?”

“It chased them away and is probably in the mountains,” the man said and that made you a bit relieved even though you weren’t sure you were allowed to feel that while your fiance was bleeding out only a few steps from you. You nodded in acknowledgement and made a hand movement to excuse the soldiers. Soon, you were left with only Xukun in the room.

“Why isn’t he healing? Doesn’t he...” you looked at the boy, not understanding why the injury took its toll on the king when Xukun healed within an hour. Was it some kind of special arrow damped in poisonous liquid? Was it...

“No,” The guard cut your words off but you could already tell by the look on his face that it wasn’t how you thought. “He saved the dragon and it now serves him but he never got its blood and I… I think the dragon is hurt, too.”

“What?” you were dumbfounded how he could tell something like that when you had left the field together, so he couldn’t have known about this. Not by seeing it happen. But as Xukun clenched his hand in front of his chest as if he was hurting, you started to understand. They were indeed connected after all.

“I can feel it. I can’t explain but its energy...”

A hurt dragon in the mountains. A hurt king in the desert. Gosh, things really weren’t on the path you hoped them to be. You suddenly weren't sure what worried you more.

“Do you think the dragon is in danger?” you turned to Kun, fingers fidgeting with the handle of your sword by your side. If those from before knew that they managed to wound the creature, were they looking for it? Anyone who got control over a dragon could have immense power, you didn’t even want to think about it. Especially the dragon that had this special connection with the boy beside you.  “Go then. Help the dragon!”

He seemed surprised and conflicted at your nudging. He didn’t move, eyes flickering to the bed behind you.

“But Yixing...” His protest fell short when you quickly explained:

“I will stay with him and wait for the medic,” you promised but weren’t sure Xukun trusted you with something like this until he reached out to take your hands in his. His palm was warm like every other part of him too, his fingers felt nice against your dirtied, dry skin. He squeezed your hand gently in agreement.  

“Call for a shaman, too,” he added and you nodded with a lump in your throat. You needed to get prepared for any kind of situation.

You could have been called a loyal fiancée based on how you spent day and night next to Yixing, watching over his recovery. However, he didn’t get much better over the course of days and you didn’t hear about Xukun either. The only reassuring thing was that you weren’t attacked there, at the border of three Clans. You couldn’t leave either way because the king wasn’t well enough for such a long voyage and you wanted to be as close as the mountains anyway.

The medic said the arrow hit Yixing so close to his heart that it was a miracle that he was still breathing and it scared you more than you had expected. You let him change the bandage and stayed by the unconscious man, putting fresh wet cloth over his feverish forehead.

That night, marking the third without Xukun, the king stirred awake.

You looked up from your place beside his bed, startled. It was the first time he seemed more conscious than just to drink a bit of water or ginger soup because his eyes looked alert. For the first time since you had met him, he seemed scared.

“The dragon...” he croaked out with a hoarse voice due to not speaking for days.

“Xukun is looking after it,” you told him reassuringly and held a metal cup to the king’s chin, urging him to drink a bit. He gulped down the fresh water as if it was healing potion and once he finished with the entire cup, he fell back onto the sheets with a painful sigh. Closing his eyes, he traced his ribs until he reached the bloody bandage over his wound and hissed. He must have suffered more than he showed.

“I would have never thought I would have my fiancée look after me after a battle,” the man whispered, deep voice weak and uncertain, a little playful though. Although his words were conveying the truth, it made you feel like someone who committed adultery. You knew you didn’t swear either loyalty nor love to each other with the king but after learning how he had saved your first love from certain death, you didn’t want to do something like this to him. You needed to come clean even if the timing was quite off. 

“With all due respect, Zhang Yixing, I’m afraid I can't marry you,” you said quietly, expecting a frown or a scolding but none of it came. Maybe because he was injured but he didn’t react at all and for a moment you thought he had fallen back asleep but then he slowly opened his eyes again and turned his head to be able to look you in the eye.

“I had a feeling,” he nodded calmly. He didn’t seem angry nor disappointed. He had already said your father’s proposal was an odd one, one with interesting timing. There was nothing interesting about it, it was just a strategy, a plan you didn’t want to follow anymore. But before you could have spoken up, to apologize, to ask whether it meant your alliance was off, Yixing continued: “Xukun treasures you too much. He was the one who urged me to trust your father.”

“He… Did he tell you about me before we met?” Words stumbled out of your mouth before you could have stopped them. You were more than dumbfounded to know that. Had Xukun known about your father’s wish to marry you to Zhang Yixing even before he agreed? Was it him because of whom the king agreed at all? And here you thought that he had been just another guard, loyal to his king until death.

“He talked about you all the time,” the man reminisced with a faint smile on his lips as he stared at the ceiling. “He always says how I saved his life back then but with him here, not being able to return home, I feel like I have taken his life instead. Taking you from him would have been even worse.”

You cast your eyes down bashfully as you listen to him talk. Yixing’s side of the story was an interesting one as well. Learning how he didn’t save Xukun out of the kindness of his heart but because he wanted intelligence was something you could understand, something you could relate to as you lived in a world like that after all. You couldn’t even be angry, not when he told you how they had become friends over the years. As the king drifted back to sleep, you thought that maybe you could become friends as well, maybe you could still be allies. You didn’t necessarily have to be enemies.

But once being enemies, it was hard to forget and not everybody had the same insights as you.

You woke up to a small noise, only to open your eyes to see one of your own soldiers from Jade Clan stepping inside the tent. You had always felt safe next to your guards but this time, something was off.

“What are you doing here?” you questioned as you sprang to your feet from the seat you accidentally fell asleep in.

“Princess,” the guard bowed with respect. Though, he was clearly surprised to see you still there and you could see the hint of hesitation in his eyes before he answered. “I am here as per your father’s wish.”

You furrowed your brows. You hadn’t been notified of anything like this.

“My father’s wish?” you raised a brow, looking at the man expectantly but he didn’t reply, not with words at least. Instead he took out a small glass bottle with familiar yellow-ish liquid inside. It made the blood freeze in your veins.

“That wasn’t the plan,” you reminded the man even though you hadn’t even known your father told anybody else about it. Didn’t he trust you or… 

“It wasn’t your plan but your father had doubts whether you could do it with a cold heart. That’s why he sent me,” your guard informed you dutifully and your brain kept coming up with reasons why this was a terrible idea. It would have been much easier if Zhang Yixing was indeed the tyrant you had imagined him but after learning about his personality and starting to form an amicable acquaintance with him, it just didn’t make sense.

“I’m not the queen yet,” you objected but the guard didn’t seem to care.

He explained how the public sentiment had changed in your favour just because you stayed with the injured king in the last few days and there was something in his explanation that was quite logical: if Yixing passed away now, nobody would have looked for a murderer because he was already on his deathbed. Nobody would have known he didn’t die from the arrow. Nobody needed to know. But… it wasn’t the plan. If he died then, without a queen or heir, the Dragon Clan would remain without a leader and neighbouring nations would all want their pieces of it. If they got to know about the dragon too…

“It’s a chance we can’t waste. We need to prioritize the safety of Jade Clan,” your guard reminded you and for a moment you were stuck. If it hadn’t been for Xukun, you might have done it within a heartbeat, not even considering other options because Zhang Yixing was a dangerous man but now… you were torn, unsure what to believe. Your uncertainty must have been written on your face because your guard pushed the bottle into your hands, encouraging you to make a move and you gulped, too busy with your internal turmoil to react fast enough when you got company.

Four of the masked guards of Yixing stepped into the tent, one of them immediately slicing the throat of your man which made you scream. Two guards held you back from behind, not letting you move, to get any weapon while another one walked up to you, his dark eyes trained on you, his bloody dagger aimed at your throat. He forced the little glass bottle out of your hands.

“There was always something off with you, Princess. You should have been hung the moment you dared to fling your hairpin at the king,” he said, disgusted and you couldn't quite blame him. You raised your chin though, proud because as a royal it was expected of you even when you looked into the eyes of death. You weren't afraid of dying, you had walked out to the battlefield earlier with that mindset too, it was just… you wished you could have said goodbye to Kun.

You knew that the only reason the guard didn't kill you off like he did with your man was because you were a royal. If you died by a hand of a guard of the Dragon Clan, you knew your father would have gone to war against them and you also knew he would have lost which broke your heart even more. 

"So what now? Will you kill me too, in the name of justice because one of my men blabbered? You have no idea what we even talked about!" you accused the guard of making a scene over nothing because as of now prolonging the conversation was your best chance. Either Yixing could wake up and stop them, if he believed you didn't want to hurt him any more, or your other guards could show up as well.

"I have a good enough guess, Princess, but of course, you can prove your innocence by drinking this. If it isn't poison, you have nothing to lose, am I right?" the man turned the small glass bottle between his fingers. You didn't show reaction to that even though you knew you were going to die if you drank it all. But at least it was said to be a fast killer. You were contemplating whether you should have taken it and then spit it out saying it was bitter for your 'princess taste' because he wouldn't have been able to prove anything then. He could still kill you though but maybe it was worth a chance.

However, before you could have decided the tent's entrance flew open and a very dishevelled looking Xukun showed up. He looked like he was running and hadn't slept properly in days. The presence of guards, his comrades, seemed to surprise him, the dagger at your throat even more.

"What's going on here?" he asked in an authoritative voice even though you weren't sure he had a bigger rank just because he was friends with Yixing.

"The princess and her guard were caught trying to poison the king."

"That's not true!" You protested heavily looking for eye contact with Xukun, hoping he would believe you. It was all just a terrible misunderstanding. Once you might have wanted to cause harm but you had no reason anymore, not if you signed the Lotus pact with Yixing like you had agreed. When you met Kun's gaze, it was confused but not unkind.

"Then prove it, Princess," the older man said and pushed the blade closer to your neck where your earlier scar was still visible. The situation seemed to scare Xukun but you didn't want him to save you again, you only needed him to believe you. He seemed to think differently though.

"Let her go and lower your weapon, we don't have time for this," he stood in front of you pushing the man's hand away and flashing his golden eyes at the guards you kept you caged. Their hands immediately loosened their hold as Kun lifted his bag. "I have the dragon blood. Where is the shaman?"

One of the guards ran off with the bag to fetch the shaman but you could only breathe peacefully for a moment. Then the masked man with a slit across his eye crowded you and Xukun into a corner.

"My bad. Why would I have thought that you of all people can be rational? Do you think you were so discreet about disappearing, just the two of you? Are you maybe in it too? Did the two of you, Jade bastards, plan to get rid of our king to take over?" With each of his words, he poked Kun's chest with his index finger until the younger swatted his hand away. His voice didn't waver as he answered:

"If you really think that after all the fights we fought together, I feel very distraught," he said with his voice so cold like you never heard it before. Xukun's pride must have been on the line with his loyalty being questioned just because of his connection – maybe affection? – to you because the next thing you knew was him grabbing the glass bottle out of the other man's hand. "You know what? I'll prove it to you!" 

“Kun, no!” You grabbed his hands in panic, closing your fingers around his, so he couldn't lift the poison to his lips. Was he crazy? Did he want to die just for you to follow?

Or oh… he believed you. He really believed you and that it wasn't poison in the first place or maybe he believed you had nothing to do with it and knew nothing of it because when his eyes locked with yours, he seemed surprised that you stopped him.

You were both startled when the shaman arrived with the finished potion but before he could have stepped to the injured king, the man in front of you lifted his hand. Although you couldn't see his mouth, you would have bet he pulled it into a malicious smirk.

"Ah look at that, trying to save him from harm, how touching," he tsked, mocking before he pointed at the potion in the shaman hands and then at the bottle in Xukun's. “How about this? One cup has dragon blood that could save the Dragon Clan’s last son. The other which you claim isn't poison was retrieved from your room by your own guard. Choose wisely, Princess, what to give our king because your hero will drink the other one.”

“Why are you doing this?” you shrieked, having enough of this mind game of his. You knew he was just a loyal guard of Yixing and you couldn't blame him for not trusting you but did he have to go this far to make you suffer?

“I cannot let the filthy Jade Clan take over the Dragon Clan. So you either save him or be executed for killing him which was your original plan, wasn’t it?”

"Save the king, Princess," Xukun told you, determined and maybe he had a plan, a better one than you or at least you hoped. You looked him in the eyes mouthing Please don't at him but he just smiled. How could he act so nonchalant? "Trust me," he whispered.

You let go of his hands and maybe it was a mistake because he had told you: he owed Yixing his life. You barely stepped to the bed of the king, lifting his head to help the shaman give him the potion when you heard glass breaking. When you lifted your head you saw Xukun swaying, barely grabbing on a chair to stop him from falling and the broken glass was by his feet. The liquid from inside was nowhere which meant…

"Kun!" you screamed trying to run up to him, to help, to do anything but the guards turned towards you with their sword out and you could only do one thing, listen to the boy who had once saved you when the stable's roof collapsed onto you, he hovered over your body with his to save you from the impacts of the falling pieces. He always did.

So when Kun told you to run, you ran. Back to your own tent to get your sword to be able to fight off and it was ridiculous how only a few days ago you fought alongside these men but now they wanted to kill you. Oh, how fast the tables turn but maybe you deserved this, maybe you deserved to die for killing the boy you loved since you had been 16 and had given him your first kiss under the stars. You might not have a future but you wanted to believe nevertheless, but you ruined it all.

You felt tears running down on your cheeks as you dodged the daggers and swords coming your way, hissing when one managed to cut your arm. You ran, you didn't look where, you just wanted to get away. If you killed Yixing's men, peace wouldn't have been an option, so you needed to escape, that was the only way to stop another war.

You stumbled when a huge shadow overtowered you and heard the scared muffled sounds of the soldiers following you as well. Gulping, you looked up at the majestic dragon in front of you, its nostrils flaring and smoke coming out of its mouth as it huffed. It stood above you, staring at the soldiers behind you as if… as if it was protecting you. It made you feel safe, like Xukun, and gosh, you just cried harder because he was trying to save you even now. You fell onto your knees, not knowing what to do with this information and then…

"It isn't nice of you to chase my fiancée away from me, is it?" Yixing roared in a forever calm voice and through your tears you could barely believe your eyes when you saw him walk towards you. And not just him, it was Xukun who helped him move because he must have still been in pain. But how?

The masked guards seemed just as flabbergasted as you were. But Kun, oh the deities, Kun looked almost smug as he passed by them after Yixing pushed him towards you. Then he ran, ran until he knelt next to you, taking your face into his hands. You touched him as if you didn't believe he was real.

"I didn't want to…"

"I know," he assured you with a stupid smile on his stupid face like he did back in that ruined house where he kissed you like you were his life line.

"I can't believe you drank the poison! How could you be sure your blood would fight it off?" you whisper-yelled at him, hitting his chest all too weakly and he laughed, too. The nerve of him!

"I wasn't but Princess, I would drink poison over and over again if it tasted like you," he said with a smirk and you would have bet Yixing told him about your agreement because otherwise he wouldn't have been so daring. Or was it the near death experience? Or the thought of losing each other all over again? The wars might have been still messy, politics stressing, but in that moment, you didn't care, you just closed your eyes and kissed Kun back when he pressed his lips against yours, happily burning with him.

[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Part XV

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, part VI, pt VII, part VIII, part IX, part X, part XI, part XII, part XIII and part XIV.

Being Sebastian's boyfriend really isn't that much different from being his friend. They do a lot of the same things, and talk about the same stuff, only now there's hand-holding and kissing and cuddling with it. Apart from the touching though? Nothing really changes much.

Which kind of makes it sound like how it was with Blaine.

It's not though.

Sebastian will hold his hand in the hallway without worrying about being seen. And yes, Dalton is different from McKinley – so, so much different, and safer – but Blaine even hesitated to hold Kurt's hand in the choir room, surrounded by friends.

Sebastian kisses him in a way that never leaves Kurt doubting there's attraction, and has to stop his hands from wandering too far on a regular basis – yet never making Kurt worry he won't stop.

Sebastian makes Kurt have to stop himself, both from allowing it and from doing his own wandering. They're still too new to go there, no matter how much Kurt's hormones sit up and beg every time Sebastian touches him. (They'll get there, Kurt's sure, just... Step by step, and not yet.)

Sebastian reaches out for Kurt without looking – sometimes seemingly without thinking – to pull him close, and always makes a space for him.

And when Sebastian sings, it's with Kurt, or for him, not at him.

It's a far cry from scheduled make-outs and avoiding even PG13 levels of PDA and being made to feel like his boyfriend is more interested in his own hand than in Kurt.

It's amazing.

There's a rainbow rose hanging on Kurt's door on Valentine's day. He and Sebastian have been dating for two days – a day and a half, if he was to be picky – and Kurt knows from last year's insanity that there's not a flower shop within two hours of Vesterville that carries rainbow roses. They have to be ordered special, and with a lot more warning than two days.

Kurt's not the least bit ashamed about how he squeals, or how he turns on his heel and kisses his boyfriend (!) for long enough to be a little dizzy afterwards.

This isn't to say that Sebastian is a perfect boyfriend. He's not. Then again, neither is Kurt. He's working from romantic movies and the examples from the New directions, and of course from his time with Blaine. Neither is a good road map. Romantic movies have so many flaws Kurt don't really want to examine, and a lot of his favorites are set too far back in time to be useful as guidelines. The loves lives of his old glee mates are...well. They're flawed too, when seen without rose-colored glasses and envy.

As for his relationship with Blaine... Even if he's not counting how it ended that relationship was so very less than perfect, and honestly it was both their faults. Kurt's not without blame, he knows that and can admit it without somehow pretending what Blaine did wrong never happened.

So he's trying to learn from his mistakes, and other people's mistakes, and he does his best to communicate with Sebastian – who does the same in return.

Also, no one can say that they don't argue. They definitely do. They have from the beginning, and they're both opinionated passionate people, so why should they stop now? Their relationship has changed – they themselves haven't.

It's just that they manage to argue in a way that works. That doesn't makes Kurt pull out his claws to eviscerate Sebastian, that doesn't scare Kurt, or make him give in to “preserve the peace”. That, right there, was one of the things that had sent his relationship with Blaine down the wrong turn. When he'd first told his dad that he'd begun dating Blaine Burt Hummel had told him never to go to bed angry with his partner. He'd meant to sort out arguments and disagreements, but Kurt had interpreted it as needing to back down and push down his anger or hurt. With Sebastian he doesn't.

They argue, because that's who – and how – they are, but they do it in as mature and healthy way as they are able to, being teenagers. And they apologize if they step over the line. Not Kurt apologizes, regardless, with Sebastian pouting until he does, but both of them.

If Kurt had to, he'd call it damned near perfect. Instead he'll just say it's good, and he's happy.

That's never something to look down on.

The week of Regionals is weird. Kurt's never felt as prepared or as calm with a competition approaching, which is rather telling. The rest of the Warblers are a different story though. Kurt has made it clear that his primary goal is to beat the Troubletones, and his friends are feeling the pressure. They even ask if Kurt and Sebastian won't reconsider singing 'Human Nature'.

“Look, guys, I'm honored, really, that you would trust me, us like that. But I want to win more than I want that solo. And even if we ignore the fact that Ohio doesn't seem ready for a gay duet, I really do think the setlist we have is stronger as is. The Troubletones have a great presence, and both Mercedes and Santana are awesomely talented. However, everything about the Troubletones are built around them. The rest of the girls are background and dancing. If we go on with a number that's the same they are going to win, for no other reason than that most people find girls prettier and nicer to look at.

“But if we go on as an actual choir, for a show choir competition? We'll win. I'm sure of it. We've worked so hard with our songs, and I wouldn't change a thing about our setlist.”

And it's true. They have an amazing setlist, and everything flows in a way that makes Kurt feel practically professional, and he's not giving that – and its chance to win – up to stare longingly at Sebastian while singing a song that exposes them to the core.

No. Kurt's going to have quite a lot more time in the spotlight than he'd expected when turning down a proper solo. He's going to sing with his friends, and his boyfriend, and he's going to show McKinley what it means to be a team onstage.

The Troubletones are just as amazing onstage as Kurt thought. They've done a good job picking their songs, and Mercedes still has the best voice he's ever heard live. Santana's not quite as talented, but give her the right song – which these are – and she'll blow your mind. Their choreography showcases the girls poached from the Cheerios without making Mercedes look too far behind, and their clothes look good.

Kurt would vote for them any day, even with Rachel being given a place in the background, except this one. This is going to be his day. He meets Sebastians eyes as they line up and nods.

Showtime.

'I want You Back' does exactly what it's meant to, namely getting the audience in a party mood. As the last notes flows into the first from 'Man in the Mirror' the mood shifts and Kurt feels his own shift with it. His solo feels a little raw, because in no way can he sing those lines without being reminded of all the crap he's gone through over the past 6 months.

“...a willow deeply scared, somebody's broken heart and a washed out dream...”

Well. His heart might have been broken, and his dreams about Blaine did wash out. But he's got new dreams, and his hearts healed, and no matter the scars he's whole where it matters. And even if he wasn't? He's looking in the mirror, and he's changing.

They bring the party back with their last song, giving their all transforming the sounds of 'Beat It' to sounds that can be reproduced by the human throat. The dancing is the most demanding Kurt's ever done onstage, and he knows he will definitely be beat after. But they look and sound awesome, and that's all that matters.

Or maybe not, he ruefully thinks as he sees Finn on his feet, jumping up and down and whooping as the Warblers are proclaimed the winners and Rachel looks like she's been pelted with eggs again.

“You stole our songs!”

Of course. All Kurt wants to do is get on the bus, go back to Dalton and celebrate. Okay, shower, then celebrate. So naturally Rachel is waiting to ambush him. Well, that's not going to go the way she's probably thinking.

“Really? Really Rachel, you're going there? You know very well that we didn't steal anything. Oh, I know that there was a suggestion that the New Directions do Michael for Sectionals, but I also know that you were the one who refused to accept it.

“You really blew it there. Michael is a great choice for Sectionals or Regionals, what with the Ohio mindset, and I'm pretty sure you would have won with the setlist the guys suggested. I'm not surprised you put a stop to it though.”

Rachel draws back, looking first shocked, then insulted, then finally like an angry goose, complete with hissing sound. He's not letting it touch him though, lets it run over him, one might say, like water over a goose.

“There are no songs in Michael Jacksons discography that's a given for you, no certainty that you'll be featured. And in the end, that's what mattered, wasn't it? Not that the New Directions won, but that you won. You wanted to beat the Troubletones, didn't you? Wanted to show that you were better than Mercedes, wanted to prove that her beating you when auditioning for Maria was just a fluke. Wanted to prove what everyone knows, that's she's every bit as good as you, and sometimes better, is wrong.

“Well, congratulations. You got what you wanted in terms of the setlist and the spotlight, but you fucked up everything else. And not just for you, but for everyone.”

An expression of pain flies across Rachel's face, and he pushes the knife in a little bit further.

“We weren't as blind though. The minute Finn told me about the Michael setlist I knew it was a winner. As did the other Warblers. I asked Finn first, and Sam and Puck. They didn't think we needed their permission, as you didn't use the songs, but they gave it any way.”

Kurt looks at Rachel, looks at the way she's still fuming, still refusing to see any other side than her own. It won't matter what he says – she'll keep ignoring any and all arguments against her. Once he might have tried harder to make her understand, but as things are he just wants to leave. His boyfriend's waiting and that makes Kurt out of time to spend on his former friend.

“Your loss, our gain.”

He starts to leave, but thinks better of it. He's got one more jab in him.

“Oh, and Rachel? Don't worry. Going to Nationals is a privilege, and we won't waste it. We've already gotten started on a setlist.”

It's petty, but. So's she.

That evening the Warblers celebrate as thoroughly as a bunch of uniformed boys in a well-staffed boarding school can. This means that it's late when Kurt drags Sebastian to his room (unlike him Sebastian's in a single), but neither of them is under the influence of anything but happiness.

That's important to Kurt as they tumble into Sebastian's bed while kissing, because he doesn't want there to be any doubt in Sebastian's mind that when Kurt pulls off his shirt and then goes for his fly it's because he wants to.

Having Sebastian stop him is frustrating, to say the very least.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

It's only the fact that it's Sebastian, and that he's shown himself trustworthy in so many ways over the past months that stops Kurt from storming out.

“I thought we... You know?”

It's so hard to say, to open himself up like this, years of being told he's a predator, or ugly, or plain wrong getting just as much in his way as the fact that he's never done this, and the only time he's been even close wasn't even about him.

Apparently he's going to have to use his words regardless, because Sebastian's not taking the opening.

“I thought we could have sex.” There. Words. Consent. Door wide open.

And yet Sebastian's still not taking the opening.

“What's the hurry?”

Kurt pulls back a little, hurt blooming.

“No, no, don't. Talk to me, okay? I'm a bit surprised I guess. We haven't even been dating for two months yet, and I know this is new for you.”

“So? It's not like I'm waiting for marriage.”

Kurt knows he sounds a bit snippy, and he has sort of been waiting – not for marriage, but for something, some feeling of more. He's got that feeling with Sebastian, so what's the point of waiting any longer? Everyone else his age (or so it feels) is having sex so why can't he?

Some of it must bleed through because Sebastian gets that “aha” look, and nods a bit.

“Look, regardless of what I might have said or implied when chasing Blaine, I'm actually not the whore of Babylon. I have, however, rounded a few bases and enjoyed them. I think you'd enjoy them too, and I would love to find out first hand. But that doesn't have to mean we go straight to fucking.” Kurt blushes, because he might be ready to do it, but those words...

“So. I'm not going to push, and I'm not going to rush. I am more than interested though, I'm just happy to take it a bit slow. To build up to every step. As far as I'm concerned you've earned that.”

Sebastian's looking so earnest it kills Kurt annoyance, and then lightning-quick it's replaced by a vicked look than makes him shiver all over.

“I wouldn't mind showing you the first of many, many bases now though. How about it, babe?”

Kurt doesn't mind either, neither then nor the next day.

[niennavalier]

AC: Rogue - Second Chances

Summary: He's not an Assassin anymore - Shay has no doubts about that. He's less sure where that leaves him in the world, or in the context of this centuries-long war between Assassins and Templars. But when he's presented with a second chance - from a Templar, no less - he has to question all that he's done in the past. And all that he'll do in the future.

Character study set during AC: Rogue Sequence 3-1 "The Color of Right".

(Also posted on AO3)

*****

Shay isn’t sure what he’d been expecting. There’s little he remembers of the moment after being shot, aside from perhaps accepting his fate, knowing that, at the very least, he’d stopped the Assassins from leveling more cities. But he hadn’t expected to wake up at all, much less in a comfortable home and cared for by a kindly couple.

He’d not thought that he could be surprised by much else, but then Mrs. Finnegan - Cassidy - had handed him some clothing, and now, dressing himself, he can’t help but think.

They were our son's . Those words - they keep circling through his head as he readjusts the coat, finishes tightening his belt. Because he can't keep the thought from his mind.

The Finnegans' son - he'd been a Templar.

He'd not wanted to believe it at first, seeing the crosses at his shoulders, telling himself it was something else, something he'd seen elsewhere. It wasn't the Templar cross, and the couple who'd taken him in and cared for him as their own - they weren't Templars. They weren’t the same people he’d spent years fighting.

But pulling the strap for his rifle over his shoulder, the other cross settling on top of his heart, it’s not something he can deny. Somehow, he’s certain of it; whether the Finnegans are Templars themselves, their son had been.

And now he’s wearing the lad’s clothes. It’s something that makes him all the more aware of the hidden blades at his wrists - nothing feels quite right about any of this. Not that he can do much about it.

Sighing and shaking the thoughts from his head for now, he takes the time to tie his hair away from his face and happens to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Looking as he does, he has no doubt his younger self would've thought him a Templar himself, some fanatic obsessed with order. With his weapons returned, he looks every bit a man ready to fight for all that he’d once fought against . Though it's not like he has much choice; he doubts his old clothes had survived the ordeal.

He's not mourning their loss, though. It's a sudden realization, and one he wasn’t expecting to have, but he hadn't been eager to don the hood again. And he still isn't, perhaps would never be. Stranger still, it's not a thought he can bring himself to regret.

Wearing the uniform of the people he’d called enemies is unsettling, but as his last memories of the Homestead flash through his mind - all those he’d called friends, called family , suddenly turned against him - he’s certain that wearing his own robes would’ve been worse.

As he steps back into the main room, though, it’s like none of that even matters. The way Cassidy’s eyes light up - “Oh, well don’t you look a right gentleman!” - it fills him with something warm that he can’t remember when he last felt. Warmth. Family. Feeling like he doesn’t have to work to earn affection, the way he suspects it feels to have parents, despite never properly knowing his own.

Perhaps it shouldn’t feel as novel as it does, but he can’t help freezing on the spot. How is he meant to respond to that?

So he doesn't respond, at least, not directly. He asks about the Manuscript - lost, apparently, and some mix of relief and anger flares in his chest. Good, better that no one can get their hands on the damned thing. Good-hearted folk like these - they wouldn't be caught in the crossfire ever again. He'd see to that.

***

He's not expecting it when a man approaches him from behind, the cross on his sash - a Templar cross, it must be - the first and only thing Shay sees. His hand is reaching back for his pistols before he even realizes it - trust isn't something he's keen on having in spades for now.

"Be at ease, Master Cormac, we are friends.” Doubtful. But the man does know his name, somehow, even if Shay can’t guess why. Does he also know -? He must. This dance they’re doing - it’s too familiar. Both of them know what the other is (or rather, was , Shay supposes). He’d have to tread carefully; he has no idea what this Templar wants with him. “The Finnegans were worried you might take matters into your own hands. I am Colonel George Monro.”

Shay nods, the safest thing he can think to do. “Colonel.” The Finnegans, he’s willing to trust, and the Colonel knowing them might have meant something had their son not also been a Templar. As it stands, the connection means little.

“I came to help, but it seems I am late. Thank you for dealing with these foul criminals.” He eyes the gang leader (the Assassin-trained gang leader) Shay had killed just minutes earlier. “They were a blight on New York.”

The words are quick to rub him wrong. “What do you care?” For all Shay might agree about the gangs, he’d yet to meet a British officer who gave a damn about the colonists. Much less one who was a Templar, besides. “You Redcoats are nothing but landlords. The townsfolk here are grinding away, trying to make a living.” And for what, really?

“I cannot blame you for having that impression.” Of course he can’t. It’s true, and Shay had seen it himself. The restrictions keeping merchants from trading as they pleased, the dangers and hardships braved by the colonists only for their earnings to line the pockets of the Crown. It’s the truth, not just an impression. “Some of my comrades have been less than helpful. But I take a different approach.”

“And what is that?” The words are bitter on his tongue.

“I care. I want to see these colonists safe and prosperous.” Years of training are screaming in his head not to trust this man. That he's just another Templar snake who's willing to say anything if it gets him his way. There's no way for Shay to know if he means any of the things coming out of his mouth.

"Noble words." But were any of them true? He’d naively thought others as righteous as the Colonel made himself out to be, and they’d all proven otherwise.

"Perhaps actions will convince you otherwise, Master Cormac." The Colonel gestures for him to lead the way, and he hesitates for a moment - it's a trick, it has to be - before thinking deeper on it. Betrayal still lingers in his mind, learning that the people he’d called his family cared more about ancient artifacts than they did him, or the thousands of innocent lives on the line. He knows now that they must have lied to him all along, and, really, were they all that different from the Templars? Now, he’s not an Assassin anymore, and that’s not enough to change any of what he believes about the Templars, but it’s enough to make him think.

Perhaps he could hear the Colonel out, if nothing else. At worst, his beliefs would be confirmed yet again. At best…

He's not ready yet to think there can be a better outcome.

***

“You can do great things for this city and its citizens. After all, a man needs purpose.” Those are the last words he hears from the Colonel before the man takes his leave, and they cut into him deeper than he'd like to admit. Though it's not for a bad reason of any sort. The way he explains himself - Shay can't help but feel like he can trust him. Perhaps because it sounds like the Colonel trusts him in return, despite having never met, and the two of them having stood on opposite sides. There's more than a chance that it should worry him, but instead it makes him think of something else - the orders and harsh reprimands from the Assassins. He'd known none of them (save maybe Liam) had ever really trusted him or his skills, but he'd not thought that much of it at the time. Assumed it was normal, being that he'd been the newest one there, but now, the way the Colonel was talking to him, he's starting to rethink that. Perhaps starting to resent that, too, whether he likes it or not.

It’s a selfish reason to make any kind of decision, and he knows as much, refreshing as all of it might feel. It’s not something he’d act on alone - he’s already seen what blind faith and desperation can do, and who can pay the price of death and destruction as a result. Lisbon flashes through his mind, as clear as if it’d happened yesterday. Screams of pain and terror still ring in his ears as smoke and sulfur make his eyes and nose sting, heat from the flames burning his cheeks. His rib smarts, and for a moment, he thinks it’s from tumbling through a crumbling building, crashing against walls and floors and furniture, not from falling off a cliff at the Homestead.

He forces himself to breathe and shakes the memories from his mind. That’s what he can’t let happen again. That’s what he has to make right, no matter what it takes.

And so he can't help but feel drawn in by all the things Colonel Monro said, about just doing right by the people. Making their lives better, not through freedom or control - not through the Assassins or Templars - but just by helping where they can.

As badly as he wants to remain skeptical, he can’t find a problem in that, at least.

But he still stands and watches for some time after that, wanting to see for himself. He stays along the sidelines as the citizens of New York wander by, their eyes turning bright as they hear that the old building is to be restored. From their conversations, he learns that the place had once been a church, left to disrepair now with the threat of war hanging over them. And seeing it ready to be restored - it visibly fills them with hope, and that lights something warm in his chest. Something that he's not sure when he felt last.

It reminds him of the way he’d felt when he’d first joined the Assassins, hopeful, and like he was finally sure of what he was doing. But he’d been a fool, then - he knows that, now - and hadn’t known that he’d hurt far more people than he’d help.

He can't say where he stands when it comes to the Assassins and Templars, to the endless war he'd fought in without ever really understanding it, but he's always trusted himself to know what's right. And this - seeing the lives of normal, everyday folk made easier - he can feel is right.

And for now, perhaps that would be enough.

He can accept that much, and knows he should head back to the Finnegans - all else aside, he trusts them. But as he winds through the familiar streets of his home, he can't help but think on the Colonel's offer. The man may be a Templar, but what he's offering - this way to just help people - it feels like a second chance. Like a way to start atoning for all the lives lost in Lisbon. Exactly what the Assassins wouldn't allow him to do.

Perhaps… perhaps this is the way forward. He may not be fully ready to trust the man yet, for all that he seems honorable, but doing some good for the people of the city, protecting them against those who would do them harm - that much, he would do.

[writingfromkitchenator]

Haldir ~ I’m Not The One

1,300 Followers Challenge!

Round 2

Masterlist

Requested by Anon

Words: 1,123

Warnings: Neutral Reader, caught in a storm, arguing, fluff

You’d told him that this was a bad idea, that bad weather was on its way, and yet, he insisted, and as he was the one in charge of the guards, you had to follow.

Now, you were both stuck with nowhere to go until the storm eased or dissipated completely.  You were really both just lucky that you’d found shelter when you did.

"I don't believe this," You said hotly, sitting practically shoulder to shoulder with him. "All you had to do was listen to me."

Haldir snorts. "If I had listened to you then we wouldn't have been performing our rightful duty. We have been caught in far worse Y/N.”

A rumble of thunder temporarily cuts off your reply and you both flinch, the storm just a little too close for comfort.  Neither of you wanted to be stuck out here, but right now, there really was little choice.

"This could last hours," You grumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself. "And what makes it worse is that we didn't even find anything."

"We could've.”  Haldir said.  "And that's all that matters. Now, stop blaming me for this. You still followed."

"Because you ordered me too!" You said. " What else was I supposed to do? Sit and wait for you to get back so you can tell me how disappointed you are?  I don't think so.”

He rolls his eyes.  “You can still stop complaining. It's not going to do us any good now."

"It makes me feel better," You grumbled, looking as another rumble filled the air. "Certainly gets my attention away from how damned cold it is."

Haldir glances at you, noting how tightly your arms are wrapped around your knees.  The rain drips on you both through the small roof above you, and he knew that it wasn't helping, either the cold or your mood.  He just wasn't sure what you wanted him to do about it.

"Let's just hope this doesn't last long," He said. "Then we can get home and warm up again."

You huffed. "That's of little consolation now, isn't it?"

Haldir muttered under his breath for a moment before going silent.

The storm rages above you, leaves and branches blowing in the wind, water hitting both of you.  Currently, you were just glad that the shelter you were in had at least the three walls.

Lightning lit up the trees around you, casting eerie shadows that reached and grabbed for whatever they could. You were a soldier, so you didn't scare easily, but there was something unnerving about those shadows.  Subconsciously, you shifted closer to Haldir.

He shot you a glare.  “Surely you can't be that cold?"

You huffed. "And What if I am? Are we not sharing warmth anyway?”

I suppose," He grumbled. "It just would've been nice to be asked first.”

"Well excuse me, your majesty," You moved as far away from him as you could, "There. Now we will both be cold."

Haldir frowned at you. “Must you always be so childish? I was simply meaning that if you want to share my cloak, you had but to ask.”

You stared at him. “Well why not just say that?  Why do you always have to make things more complicated than what they are?”

“Complicated?”

“Yes, complicated.”

His expression turned dark, one you could only see because lightning tore through the sky in that moment, illuminating his features.  “I’m not the one that is too ashamed to admit their feelings, instead turning it into arguments all the time, as if that’s going to change anything.”

Heat flooded your face, but you held your own glare.  “Well, I’m not the one that is clearly aware of the others feelings and refusing to make any sort of move.”

Pink tinged his cheeks. “I’m not the one who follows the other around in the hopes that something will happen.”

You growled, closing the small distance between you again.  “I’m not the one who just happily lets the other do so because they think it’s adorable!”

A crash of thunder rolled over the two of you as you glared angrily at each other, the storm beginning to peak overhead.  For a moment, both of you wonder who would say the next words, likely getting more hurtful, but as there was another flash and another crack of thunder, Haldir moved.

His lips crashed against yours, taking you back for a moment, your teeth clicking painfully together, before you grabbed him tight and returned it.  Both of you poured all your anger into it at the other, but underneath was something softer, and in that moment you both realised just how much you cared.

Hands gripped tightly into the clothes of each other, wanting to push away and pull closer, but undecided on what the other wanted to do.

Haldir cupped your cheeks, deepening the kiss, making the decision.  The two of you start to fall backwards, into the shelter, and as a moan sounded in your throat, your head cracked into the wall behind.

Your startled yelp snapped you both out of it, Haldir bracing his hand against the wall to hold you both up.  For a long moment, the two of you just stared at each other.

Haldir then started laughing.

You pouted at him, rubbing your head.  “You’re not even thinking about my feelings while you laugh, are you?”

He continued to laugh, and you sat yourself up with a huff, shuffling away from him again.  “Honestly Haldir, this has got to be the most ridiculous thing that I’ve ever been through.”

His laugh calmed to a chuckle, but he just slid back over to you, grabbing his cloak and wrapping it around the both of you.  “Ridiculous? Perhaps.  I’m honestly just glad that we got through all that tension.”

You gave him a side look, still annoyed.  “If that’s what you call it.”

“Would you rather that we still be fighting?”  He asked.

“No.”

“Then what is the problem?”

You honestly had no good answer for that, so instead, you grabbed him again and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was calmer, but no less needed, settling the air between the two of you.

Haldir smiled as you pulled away.  “I take it there’s no problem?”

“Shut up already.” You growled and then curled into his side, your head resting on his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around you, resting his head atop of yours, the smile not dropping from his lips. It was there that you settled, the storm still raging around the two of you, meaning you were here for the long haul, but neither of you minded now, and neither of you wanted to pull away from the other again.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

The Last Exhale | Prologue

Summary: The honest and hardworking poor girl finds love in the arms of the rebellious and charming rich boy, and despite all odds, their love prevails and their inspiring story gets its fairytale ending when the two tie the knot, cementing their love under the sacred vows of marriage. Except real life isn’t a drama, and the story doesn’t end here for our protagonists who, instead of being the heroes they set out to be, end up taking on the role of the villain in each other’s life story.

Word Count: 1.5k

Genre: Angst, slight smut

Warnings: substance use, domestic violence, choking, bj

A/N: if you feel like you’ve read this as a bts fic before dw I’m the original author trying to continue it as a skz fic. Hopefully I can succeed in that. The general concept of this fic is that each chapter is based on a specific song and set in alternating POVs between the MC and the member so you can see their differing opinions and takes on each event and highlight how biased every person’s perception is.

Song and title of the prologue: Back to Black

POV of this chapter: 3rd person

The member in this story isn’t decided yet so please help me decide by voting between Chan and Lix. And if you can give me a reason for either member that would favor your choice being picked.

____________________

“I can’t believe you just stood there and let your parents humiliate me like that.” She shouts at him, not caring that the entire house staff can hear her argument with her husband.

“But I thought you were a strong woman, an Amazon, who doesn’t need my help.” He mocks her cheerfully.

She grits her teeth together so hard she thinks she could taste the pulverized bone on her tongue. “There is a difference between treating me like a prized show horse and coming to my aid when I genuinely need you.”

He cracks up. “Look at what you’re wearing! A show horse is worth more than your entire life, baby.”

She slaps him. At any other time, He would’ve returned the favor but not right now.

“Ohh, baby, are you in that mood again?” He places a hand on her ass, pulling her up against him. “Told you that you wouldn’t be able to stop for long. It feels good doesn’t it, punishing me? Hurting me? But that’s ok, I like it too. Hit me more.”

All colors drain from her face. That was a mistake. A colossal, fucked up mistake. It was during the worst time of her life, a time where she would’ve killed herself if he’d only left her alone for a second, but he just wouldn’t leave. And before she even knew what she was doing, as if she had blacked out, she was striking him, over and over again. It had started as a way to get him to leave so she can finally do it, she remembers now, but along the way, it morphed into a sick redirection of all her anger and remorse onto him, and instead of leaving or shouting or fighting back, he let her. He stood there, head bowed, and neck bared--and god help her, that only made her hit him more. But it was over now, and she would never go back to being that monster again.

A crazed laugh snaps her attention back to the source of all her torment who was staring at her with a euphoric smile on his face. “What do you say, babe?”

“Are you fucking high? You couldn’t even stay sober one night for me?” She pushed him off. She had specifically requested that he doesn’t do coke today so he can stay alert and by her side at his parent’s dinner party, but what did she really expect from him?

“You can’t blame me when you insist on embarrassing me in front of everyone I know.” She gives him a confused look and he comes up to her and tugs harshly on her dress, ripping a piece right off. “What is this shit? Why couldn’t you just let me buy you something nice to wear? How do you think it makes me feel when people see that my wife dresses cheaper than one of my father’s whores?”

She is about to slap him again but he catches her hand this time. “Not all of us have fathers who can get us what we want before we even think it up.”

“But you have me. Let me take care of you.” He puts his hands on her upper arms and searches her eyes. “Just like I used to before.”

“And have your parents think that they were right about me? That I was a gold digger all along.” She shakes his hands off of her. “And even if I do that, what happens after your father dies and your brother takes control of the company and throws you out. How will you take care of me then? You’re doing nothing to secure your place in the company and soon we will be out on the streets. What are you doing to prevent that? Going to parties and driving your expensive cars around with your friends, denying like a child that your father will ever die?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t such an uptight cunt, we could’ve worked together to find a solution instead of you spending all of your energy on constantly tearing me down and saying how useless I am.” The words held a lot of meaning but her husband’s tone was lightheartedly insane, and that stupid euphoric grin was still plastered on his face.

She could easily argue back that he wasn’t such an angel himself and that he always treated her like she were inferior to him and spoke down to her whenever she tried to suggest something that could help, always making sure to point out that she had no idea what she was talking about because she’s just a cook’s daughter.

But it was useless. He’s high out of his fucking mind and they’ve had the same argument a thousand times before. She turns her back to him and heads up the elegant marble stairway of the outrageously expensive house, looking to wash the night’s events off of herself.

“Fine, just walk away from me after you’ve ruined my fucking buzz,” He shouts up at her, but she’s sure she didn’t really. He’ll be in bliss for hours still while she sits in bed contemplating how in the world she ended up like this.

They used to be so happy before. Nothing could ever dim the love they had for each other, not his parents’ disapproval nor their different backgrounds. They were different people when they were together. They changed just for each other, and they vowed on their wedding day that they wouldn’t let anything come between them.

But the years proved them wrong. They never changed at all. They just came back full circle, and hard. The differences between them became more apparent than ever and as the years went by, they stopped seeing from the other person’s point of view and became more unyielding in their own opinions than even the people that stood in their way in the past were.

So where do they go from this?

The sound of feet dragging heavily across the floor as someone makes their way slowly down the hall would surely frighten anyone, but she doesn’t even flinch. She knew it was her husband finally back home after disappearing for hours like always.

The sound continues for a few minutes until it stops just behind her, and she turns away from the window of her little alcove to look at him. She takes his appearance in, hair and clothes disheveled and a dark aura about him. She holds the joint in between her lips and reaches out to him, looping her thumbs through the waistband of his pants and pulling him close to her before unbuttoning them and pulling them down to his thighs along with his boxers.

There on the inner side of his boxers was the evidence of his night out, dried cum and pussy juices. He didn’t even bother cleaning himself up or changing his underwear before coming to her. He wanted her to know.

She takes a deep breath from the joint and turns her back to him again, blowing out the smoke through the open window.

He never liked when she ignored him. He doesn’t like that at all. He reaches forward and snatches the joint out of her hand and snuffs it out violently with his boot. His high is very obviously over. She’s relaxed now and he’s the one on edge.  

The cool gaze she regards him with pisses him off more and he grabs her by the hair and pulls her down to his dick, “Suck.”

He wanted her to taste that woman on him. He wanted to humiliate her. He wanted to hurt her, but all she felt was numbness.

He is not gentle with her, those days were long over. He moves her around like a ragdoll over his cock, thrusting it down her throat and not stopping even when he hears her gagging around him and clawing at his thighs. Instead, he pinches her nose, cutting off her oxygen supply completely.

“Should I let you die like this? No court would dare condemn me, my father would see to that.” He growls, taunting her with his father’s power the same way she belittled him for it earlier. “It’s what a cheap bitch like you deserves for not knowing her place with her master.”

Her face was turning blue, and her throat was constricting vigorously around her husband’s cock, fighting to let a breath in but only increasing his pleasure. She hears him moaning and grunting above her but she can’t see him through her rapidly blurring vision.

She doesn’t know if he knew just when to stop or if it was a stroke of luck but right as she thought she was about to pass out, he pulls his cock out of her mouth and stops pinching her nose. She falls forward on the floor at his feet, coughing and sputtering, and he watches her from above while he gives himself those last few strokes before cumming all over her. Some of it lands on her face, some on her hair, some on her clothes…In the end, she looks as much of a mess as she feels she is inside.

Despite having nothing obstructing her airway anymore, her lungs still couldn’t believe it, heaving in huge gulps of air as if the supply would be cut off again at any moment.

Her husband tucks himself back into his pants before crouching down over her. He holds her chin in his hand causing more of the cum stuck to his palm to mess up her face. “Why do you have to make me do this, baby? You know that I love you.”

His voice sounded so hurt and sincere that she couldn’t stop yourself from spitting in his face. What did it matter that he loved her, that she loved him, when it wasn’t enough anymore? “You’re nothing to me.”

He retaliates by slapping her, sending her crashing against the floor from the powerful blow. “I’ll make you yield, you’ll see, and then we’ll be happy again.”

He walks away and she stares after him with a hatred that taints her very soul. How was it possible for the human heart to contain so much hate and love for the same person without just giving up?

_______

A/N: before I put this fic on hiatus, I had posted 4 (very long) chapters. I will be reposting one every week and hopefully by then I would’ve written chapter 5.

[jessicajonesrp]

Public warning

Patricia Walker does not do well with lack of control. It’s a tendency passed down from life with Dorothy Walker, easily the most controlling non super-powered person she had ever met. For the first eighteen years of her life, most of Trish’s actions, from her clothes to her work to her every public word and expression, had been chosen for her by Dorothy, and the only real choice she had for herself was whether to give in and make life easier for herself or rebel and suffer Dorothy’s wrath.

 Her desire for the control she had lacked had left her with severe insecurity, eating disorders, and self medication through drugs, all issues she struggled with for a good ten years before channeling her need for control into efforts at bettering herself and helping others. She had finally reached a place where life was stable, heading in a direction Trish could be content with, if not fully satisfied.

 And then Kilgrave happened. First to Jessica only, without Trish having any idea why her best friend had suddenly vanished without contact for eight months, and then with the shattered mess it left her once Trish did know and struggled to support her. Then to Trish herself, when she, against Jessica’s orders and even pleas, involved herself in trying to draw him out and capture him.

 Trish knew she had not suffered anywhere near the level that her sister had from Kilgrave, but it was still enough to make her feel sick and cold when she remembered. She still occasionally had nightmares of his cold, snapping voice, telling her to shoot herself in the head, telling her to kill people she had never met before out on the docks. She still shivered in disgust when she remembered the feeling of his hands on her face, his lips on her skin, the terrible ambivalence of wanting to kiss him, enjoying it, even as every part of her true self screamed out in horror. And she could never forget Simpson’s hands around her throat, choking her nearly to the point of death at Kilgrave’s command.

 She had hated and feared the man from the first moment Jessica managed to stutter out what he had done to her. No, she had hated him before then, when she first saw the unnaturally shocked, broken state of her sister when she finally broke free from his initial control. Anyone who could hurt Jessica so deeply and so permanently earned her hatred without needing to know their identity.

 And now he was back. Again. As much as Trish feared for herself, for being used or even killed in his obsessive pursuit of Jessica, she feared even more that Kilgrave would damage Jessica even more deeply, that he would continue to pile up dead and damaged bodies around himself and place the blame at her feet. Jessica didn’t need this, not again. And if Trish could do anything to help or stop it, it would help her feel just a little bit more of a sense of the control she knew she didn’t really have.

 She made her way to her recording studio after first sending some of Heroes for Hires guards ahead of her to thoroughly check out the studio for any signs of danger from Kilgrave or any of his like, giving them a code phrase to use to insure that they would be able to alert her if he did show up and control them or others.  Trish had already called ahead to insure that all people were thoroughly searched for any possible weapons and passed at least twice through the metal detectors already installed before being allowed entrance. After receiving the all clear, she went, Jessica insisting on accompanying her, via one of Danny’s cars to the studio, passing through the checks put in place and heading straight to her recording studio and instructing the techs to set up for a live broadcast. She was aware of Jessica skulking behind her, hands shoved in her pockets, as Trish rapidly read from the speech she had just finished churning out.

 “Good afternoon New York City and beyond, this is Trish Walker with an urgent report coming to you from Trish Talk, by way of myself and all our associates at Heroes for Hire. Soon, a follow up broadcast will be coming your way via Channel 5 News with more information, but please, listen very carefully to this announcement for your safety and those of your loved ones.”

 Trish paused, swallowing, and snuck a glance back at Jessica’s impassive expression before facing the mic again and continuing. “Most of you may remember the terrible events of last summer, when the man whom called himself Kilgrave provided mass terror and destruction in our city and in far too many of our own lives and homes. It is to my great sorrow that I inform you that Kilgrave is not, as was believed, deceased. Kilgrave has made personal contact with myself and with-“

 Jessica made violent throat slashing motions behind her that Trish saw out the corner of her eye, and Trish edited her intended words smoothly.

 “With myself and my colleagues, and we have evidence to support that this is no hoax. Please be aware of yourself and those you love at all times. Know their whereabouts, establish coded phrases and patterns of behavior in order to test out the level of control the people in your life may have at any given moment. Kilgrave is a white male with a British accent, last known to have short medium brown hair and brown eyes. He tends to dress in a professional manner, especially in dark purple suits and ties, and he is considered a threat of the level of nuclear war. Do not approach him should you see him; instead do all you can to get away and call in our hotline at Trish Talk or Heroes for Hire to report a possible sighting. If you suspect that someone you know may be controlled, treat them in the same manner, do all you can to subdue them without causing permanent harm to them if necessary. Kilgrave’s powers last up to 12 hours, so do not under any circumstances try to reason with anyone you suspect to be controlled. If at all possible, wear ear plugs or head phones or listen to loud music when necessary to go out in public. Kilgrave cannot gain control of those whom are not within his direct path and whom cannot hear his commands. He-“

 “Stop,” a voice suddenly came over the ear, and both Trish and Jessica jumped, recognizing the voice after a moment as not Kilgrave’s, but female and American. Trish quickly identified the voice a second later as belonging to one of her tech support assistants, Chloe Ash. “The information is over.”

 “What the fuck?” Jessica hissed, shooting Chloe a vicious glower and striding towards her quickly. “Will you shut up, even I know to shut the hell up on a live recording, over something this damn important!”

 Trish tried to recover, giving a somewhat forced chuckle and speaking over them. “I apologize, there are some technical difficulties, but if you’ll bear with me I will make sure you all get the information you need. As I was saying, Kilgrave cannot-"

 “This information is too much, this recording is over,” Chloe repeated, more loudly and forcefully, standing up and taking the headphones off of her ears. She fairly shouted out her next few words, speaking loudly enough that Trish’s words were drowned out.

 “Loyal listeners, you will now hear the sound of a suicide by Chloe Ash, Patsy Walker’s employee. More are to follow in the names and as a direct result of the avoidance and rejection of Jessica Jones. Goodbye, loyal listeners, and know that Kilgrave is a patient man.”

 She head butted Jessica in the face when Jessica grabbed for her arm, ducking under her and weaving to the other side of Trish. As Trish leaped up, expecting Chloe to grab or try to harm her, the young woman instead ran to a small cabinet against the walls containing little more than sound equipment and various office supplies. Throwing it open, she grabbed a pair of scissors from its contents, opened the blades wide, and closed them around the front of her throat.

 She made no sound, showed no pain as she dragged the scissor blades more deeply into her skin, sawing back and forth to make as rough and deep a wound as possible. The live recording now picked up the sound of Trish’s horrified scream, her outcries of “Oh god, no, no!” as blood spattered in a wide arc just short of reaching her, and the noisy scuttle of multiple feet moving towards Chloe as others tried to reach her before it was too late.

 Jessica got to her first and wrenched the scissors out of her hand, breaking them in half and throwing them down so Chloe could not get them and use them any further. Tearing off her oversized sweatshirt, she pressed it against the woman’s throat, grimly noting how the blood immediately stained through its thick material and onto her fingers, how it had sprayed hot and thick over her arms and chest before she could touch her at all. The woman didn’t try to speak, likely couldn’t have, but she was losing all color in her face, her eyes already growing glassy and lifeless, and as Trish sputtered and tried not to vomit or pass out in the background, Jessica held onto the almost useless bloodied sweater, as though she could somehow keep the woman alive just by holding on tight enough.

 It didn’t matter. Within another minute the woman was clearly dead, limp and unmoving under Jessica’s hands, and she could hear the shrill noise of sirens in the background. Jessica let her drop to the ground, stumbling back and nearly yelling out loud when she bumped into Trish and felt her hands latch onto her arm.

 “We have to go, now,” she mumbled, giving her sister’s arm a rough tug.” Before someone else of his comes through in the aftermath.”

 Even as she lead Trish out of the room and building, she could still hear the dying woman’s words echo in her mind. More are to follow, as a direct result of the avoidance and rejection of Jessica Jones…

[papergirllife]

Chapter 2

Synopsis:

You don’t know what it’s like to be free, to make your own choices, and live your own life. For your whole life, your parents have been treating you like a puppet on strings, controlling your life to every single detail, as well as ignoring the fact that you have feelings. Other times, when you disobey their wishes, or speak up about your own opinions, they bash you down with words, in other words, psychological abuse, has led you down the long winded road of depression and anxiety. What happens when you meet a man who’s willing to be your guide out of this terrible downpour? Would you give a shot at happily ever after?

Warnings:

big age gap (kinda?)

issues on anxiety

issues on depression (mild)

issues on parental abuse

smut (maybe)

Tag List: @etherealtyjaem​ ,  @caratzennie  , @johnnysuhnflower  , @euphoricchannie  ,  @yeollieseo  ,  @jjhmk  , @sherzess

(lmk if you wanna be on the list) (and sorry for reposting, it just won’t show on the tags)

The new house you’ve just moved in was small, you were perfectly fine with the size, you always stayed in your room anyways, the sizes elsewhere doesn’t really matter. It wouldn’t have been an issue if they weren’t making a fuss outside. They were yet again arguing about the company’s debts and complaining about the recent stock market turn outs. Your parents sold the old house in order to pay off some of the company loans, moving into a decent condominium in the older township.

Why are they so obnoxiously loud? Why can’t they talk like normal civilised people? They had an awful habit of shouting from one room to another, even if it’s about 3 feet apart, the study to the kitchen like it was just steps away.

You placed your pillow on top of your ear as the other was covered with the other one you’re sleeping on, you woke up from nightmares just this morning and needed a nap, but from the looks of things, you weren’t getting one anytime soon.

You reluctantly got up from your bed and told them to lower down their voices, but they just ignored you, as they always did. After the third time of fruitless attempt, you’ve given up hope on resting, but your body wasn’t happy with what was happening, the voices in your head hammering in your head, blaming you for what happened as you felt your heartbeat quicken, your breathing staggered. You could feel your whole body tense up as tears started to cloud your vision.

You inhaled deep breaths as you tried to push the anxiety attack away, humming a song, fiddling with a pen, but nothing you read on the internet helped. You hugged your knees towards your chest as you sat on the corner of your room, trying to muffle your choked sobs. A sentence you kept repeating in your head like a mantra,

‘make it stop.’

It’s currently 10 a.m. and your parents are rushing you to hurry up with your morning routine as they have an important meeting with some potential investor, they’re taking you along because they need an errand girl to buy them coffee and in case of any other task that is deemed much too troublesome for them like filing away documents or printing out contracts.

You woke up at the crack of dawn to get ready, so to say that you were tired after yesterday’s ordeal was an understatement. As your father told you to double check the files needed in the bag, you found out you left one up stairs, your palms sweaty as you informed them of your mishap.

“How can you be so dumb?! This is why you’re such a failure of a person! I told you to prepare everything last night! Were you day dreaming again?!” your father bellowed from the driver’s seat, his angry eyes filled with rage whenever his gaze darted to your sight through the rearview mirror, putting your lives at risk on a busy road.

You bite back retorts, head hung low through out the quick detour back, exiting the car alone to go back up and retrieve the file you left behind.

Not a day goes by where they don’t criticise you for something you did, whether an accident or not. You can feel your anxiety levels going up again as your heartbeat picks up speed, a wave of sadness coming over you. You quickly recalled a familiar song to block out their hurtful words ringing in your head.

“Useless piece of shit,” your father mumbled as he drove, throwing a clothe he uses to clean his car on your face, the rough material stinging you.

As you dug through your pockets for loose change in your jacket, your fingers found a card instead, it was Mr Suh’s card.

I can take you away from all this chaos raging among your family, if you can call it a family that is. I’ll be seeing you soon, Y/N.

‘What does he mean?’ you wondered.

“Miss, you’re holding up the queue. Do you have 50 cents or not?” the cashier at your local starbucks snaps at you, yanking you away from your own thoughts.

“Sorry, I don’t,” you apologised.

You looked around you to see the long line behind you and the usual full house condition of the cafe, sighing at what you call a norm of your life now, being an errand girl for your parents, and not even a little bit of acknowledgement of your existence nor feelings.

‘Can Mr Suh really make all this stop?’ you asked yourself.

Now you think you’re ridiculous for thinking a man of such wealth and power would be interested in a girl with such a puny presence among a crowd and not even a valued family member in your family’s eyes. He’s going to get bored of a girl like you someday, how long would he stay interested? A week? A month? A year? You doubt you’ll even last a night.

You begrudgingly took the bagged coffee from the counter and quickly walked back to your parent’s office block, head hung low as you thought about your parents’ attitude if this investor ends up leaving them empty handed, shivering at the thought of being their ‘mental stress ball’.

“I’m sorry, but the debts your company is in isn’t something we’d want to have on our company’s reputation if we invested. Thank you for having us,” the man in the middle, presumably the boss said, a bored look on his face.

Just like that the investors stood up and walked out the glass door of the office. Once they were out, your parents let out a frustrated groan. You quickly hurried to close up the office as they always told you to after a meeting on weekends without workers in the office.

A month later

The company is now under leased after being certified bankruptcy. Your parents’ savings are running low, so they told you to get a part time job at a local western grocer that rich people of Seoul go to for groceries that could most probably buy you a meal at your nearby convenience store, at the winery section, where you are now giving out samples to the customers.

It wasn’t an easy job, the customers here have high standards, whatever you’re giving out as samples are always deemed lacked elegance compared to the ones that they usually have, yet they always come back for more samples the next time they come to pick up groceries, and if they’re in a good mood, they might actually buy something. People who act rich but actually aren’t as wealthy as what they boast always ticks you off, they remind you of your own family.

On Friday nights, when the alcohol section always closes earlier are the times when you’ll head to the bookstore in the same mall you were working at to read, you knew that’s a really rude thing to do, but you can’t afford buying books anymore. So you read a few chapters every night, and slightly more on Friday nights, you never told your parents about the different working hours on this particular day of the week, you don’t want to go back earlier just to see their scowling faces as they hunch over different sorts of bills and statements.

You finally found a way to cope with your anxiety levels and depression by working out early in the morning, you read from the newspapers at the worker’s lounge in the grocer that it helps, and so you gave it a try, little did you know that you would enjoy it and the feeling of staying fit boosted your confidence. But on days when you felt tired and didn’t achieve the results you were aiming at, your mind reminds you of the times when your parents called you ugly, it was started when they found out you were dating, on those days, a shut of your eyes and you’ll remember the scene of them hitting you unfolding once again, if you focused hard enough you could still feel the sting on your face.

You pushed those thoughts away as you quickly packed up for the night, as you were preparing to leave, a man came in your section, requesting to buy a bottle of wine. You were going to say that the winery section is closed, but as you turned around, the words got stuck in your throat.

It was Mr Suh, dressed in his usual working attire. Even after sitting in the office for a whole day, he still looks breathtaking, his clothes held no crease.

“Y/N,” Mr Suh said your name, the corners of his lips tugging up in a smile.

He remembers you? After so long?

“Mr Suh. H-how can I help you?” you asked, eyes darting around hoping that there aren’t any more customers, worried that they’ll realise that you were letting Mr Suh in despite the closing time.

You weren’t as anxious as talking to strangers before, but Mr Suh was no stranger to you, not really anyways, and he always had an aura that made you shy away from his presence.

“I’m looking for a bottle of Pinot Noir by Emos,” Mr Suh told you.

You took tiny but hurried steps towards a counter where the grocer kept its more expensive bottles, typed in the password and handed it to him. You silently went to the counter, typing in the bottle’s code to ring up the register.

Mr Suh handed you 200 dollars, for a bottle that only costed 85. When you opened your mouth to tell him about the error, he stopped you.

“That’s tip for bothering you after working hours, keep it,” he said. 

You tried to disagree, but he refused, saying that it is what he should do. Mr Suh bid you goodbye, before he leaves your sight, he looks back at you with an odd glint in his eyes, one that you fail to read once again.

“I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

The wine was supposed to be for his conquest tonight, yet when he walked through that hotel door, he knew he wasn’t going to enjoy tonight at all. Maybe the girl isn’t pretty enough? No, she was his usual take on girls he brings to bed, but something was very much off.

Johnny didn’t usually mind a bit of harmless flirting over wine before sex, he did have a tiring day at work, usually this process would calm him down a bit before getting down to business. However, he found the flirting part rather boring and very much tedious today, the girl’s flirty remarks seemed it was droning on to no end. So he sped things up, the wine long forgotten as their limbs tangle up with the sheets.

There was something nagging him behind his head, he couldn’t place a finger on it, until when he closed his eyes, instead of seeing the girl beneath him, he saw you, your tiny body beneath his as your beautiful glossy eyes look into his, the size difference between the two of you significant in his head. That was the image that kept him going, the usual him would open his eyes wide and take in the figure beneath him, but today he kept his eyes closed as he places his head on her shoulder, that action might seem affectionate, but this was just an excuse for Johnny to let his imagination run wild without being questioned.

Johnny left after washing up in the bathroom, leaving just after one round isn’t his style at all, usually Johnny could go up to four or five if he enjoyed the first round, Johnny lets out a big sigh as he gets back into the car, he should’ve asked you to dinner instead of wasting time fucking a girl just to have him imagine her being you in order to finish up.

Johnny puts his car on drive as he swiftly leaves the parking lot, hoping a night’s sleep would clear his thoughts of you. But as Johnny’s head hits his soft pillow, he could only ask himself.

‘What are you doing to me, Y/N?’

When you woke up the next day after a long night of reading through your business course books, trying to take in whatever you can before they realise that you don’t really know what you’re reading at all.

You walked out to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast, but before you got there, you heard voices.

“We can’t send her college, we don’t have any money left,” you heard your father’s voice say.

“But it’s her future, you’re going to put that after the company?” your mother’s voice questions.

“It’s not like she’s smart enough for it anyways. I walk by her room while she studies, and it seems like she’s just staring at an empty void, we can’t place our future in her hands, we’ll starve!” your father argues back.

What your father said had stung your heart, but after a minute or so after taking it in, it wasn’t the first time they had said such hurtful words about you. You dragged your feet back to bed, no longer having the appetite for breakfast.

You went out for a run when you felt your heartbeat quicken up as your mind floods back all the bad memories that were brought forth because of the conversation you overheard between your parents, trying your best to avoid a full on anxiety attack.

Johnny loves weekends, it was the only time he could invest himself into working out instead of the short two hours he does before work, the gym is the place where he built up his high self esteem, and it’s the reason other than his good looks of course, that brings all the girls into his sight.

Yet he didn’t feel like he achieved as much in the gym after last night’s events. Yes, he did give in his full attention in all the exercises. He purposely slept early so he could feel energized today. Yet he didn’t have the desire to show off his body through a one night stand. The party that he said he would go seemed troublesome instead of his usual excitement of knowing he wasn’t going to bed alone. He took out his phone to text his friend that he was going to sit this one out, making up an excuse about not feeling well.

Johnny was laying around watching television as he scrolled through the latest news of the stock market, feeling a sense of pride as he sees his company’s stock rising after he had taken over from his father.

The familiar chime of his grandfather clock in the corner alerts Johnny of the time, 7 chimes means 7pm. Something suddenly clicks in his head, the sign that states the operating hours for the winery in the mall, you were going to go off work in thirty minutes.

Johnny quickly changes into jeans and a black knitted sweater that hugs his physique perfectly, styling his hair a bit before heading out his door, a smile unconsciously gracing his pretty lips.

When Johnny got to the winery section, he was disappointed to see that you had left, only left with a promoter of some beer, he tried his luck with the staff, hoping to know your whereabouts.

“It’s a Saturday today, so I think she’s off to buy a cup of instant noodles for dinner, she’ll either be at the cashier counters now, or eating at the food court.”

Johnny thanks the promoter as he rushes to the counters, he wouldn’t have spotted you if he didn’t recognise the baby blue checkered scrunchie popping up from the crowd that you wore the last time to match your uniform.

Johnny makes his way in between the masses of people, making some people frown in disbelief as his large figure makes them move away. Johnny plucked the cup of instant noodles out of your hand when he got there, making you jump in fright from the sudden intrusion of your wandering thoughts.

“Mr Suh?” you addressed him when you looked up to see who had took away your favourite brand of cup noodles.

“You’re not eating that tonight, come with me,” Johnny said, his voice more cheerful than the previous times you had seen him, but why?

Johnny takes your hands in his, a smirk making way on his face as he feels your small shaky hands in his large ones, he didn’t mind one bit, instead he likes how shy you are around him. Johnny places the cup of instant noodles on some nearby shelf before dragging you out of the grocer.

When he was out, he stopped in his tracks, turning around to look at you, trying to look into your eyes that were darting away from his. He finds it endearing, how you’re always so nervous whenever you’re with him, it was something very much new to him.

Johnny suggests a few high class restaurants for dinner, rattling off big names in hopes to impress you.

“I-i was only planning to have a cup of instant noodles, Mr Suh. Anything’s fine to me,” you said after many times of trying to tell him that he didn’t need to take you out for dinner.

“But I want you to choose. Go ahead, anywhere you want,” Johnny said and waits, curious of what you’ll pick.

You rocked on you heels and bit your lip in thought as you wrecked your head for ideas to get yourself out of this situation, but you couldn’t help but feel the desire to grab dinner with him instead of eating cup noodles at the food court alone again, and the fact that his hand was still held onto yours made you feel a sense of serenity and had a need to stay with him.

“Do you have somewhere which makes you feel like a child again when you eat their food?”

Johnny was taken back by such a request. Was it touching? He hasn’t felt that from anyone else other than his family and a handful of close friends, certainly not a lady other than his mom. Was it different? Yes. But was it bad? Certainly not, instead he feels a tug in his heart. The girls he met only made requests, instead of asking for his opinion, because they know he could afford anything they requested for, but then there’s you, breaking all of those other girls’ standards. You were also the first one who made him speechless, even if it was just a mere seconds.

“I know a place.”

You genuinely didn’t know why you had made such a sentimental suggestion, you just thought that food from a restaurant that reminds him of home would mean that it was affordable, but other than that reason, it was because if you were to have dinner with a man whom you only had met a handful of times, you might as well get to know him better by knowing little things about him.

You weren’t dumb, you remember what he had said about being interested in you, and that having dinner with him was a risk to your own safety as well. Yet you couldn’t stray away from his dashing smile and the way his eyes shine so brightly when he sees you.

You were slowly falling down the rabbit hole.

The interior of his car had several alterations made to suite his liking, it was interesting, compared to the people who just bought cars based on their ranking and wealth just for bragging rights in an afternoon tea. His car even smelt nice, like the Jo Malone cologne you’ve taken a whiff from the sample sticks given out, you wonder if that’s what he usually wears to work.

You couldn’t help but steal peeks at Mr Suh when he drives, the way he’s so concentrated and how he could casually drive with only one hand on the wheel made you swoon slightly in the passenger seat as his rnb music plays on the radio. You shouldn’t be thinking about Mr Suh this way regardless that he’s interested in you, especially given that the two of you have quite a large age gap, as well as the fact that you weren’t allowed to date until after college. If your parents found out about you going out with Mr Suh, they’re going to skin you alive. That thought made you shiver as you suddenly realise that you can’t be seen with a man out in public, if any of your relatives find out, they’ll definitely snitch on you.

You lowered yourself in the seat as you hope that you won’t run into any of your family members when you reach wherever Mr Suh’s taking you. The drive was quiet, only the radio playing softly in the background, making you feel relaxed. Suddenly, Johnny stopped at the traffic lights, taking a long look at you from his seat.

“Why did you suggest eating somewhere which reminds me of my childhood?” Johnny asked, his eyes full of seriousness.

“I-i just wanted to get to know you better, is that not the right way to make friends?” you answered, glad that you’ve pondered this question yourself.

“It’s not the usual way, but I like how you think, Y/N,” Johnny said before he averts his attention back on the road when the lights turned green.

Johnny could sense something was off with you from the way you looked around anxiously from your seat when the both of you reached your destination, the way your brows furrowed and the way your jittery fingers mindlessly move about. It wasn’t a shady part of town, although the two of you were at the slightly older establishments of Seoul.

“Are you alright? Why are you suddenly so nervous?” Johnny asked, worry written on his face.

You looked down on your fingers that were splayed across your lap, twitching the hem of your skirt to try and calm your nerves with no avail, but you had to say something, Mr Suh, as you’ve grown to realise is a man who’s persistent and straight forward.

“I’m worried that we’ll bump into anyone I know. I’m...I’m not supposed to be  seeing anyone or going out with people without permission,” you told him, embarrassed at the fact that you were still very much on a leash despite being an adult.

Johnny feels a sense of guilt settling down his stomach as he sees your eyes avoiding him, if he could take a guess, you must feel embarrassed right now, to have a family like that, maybe that’s why you distant yourself from people around you, they must’ve judged you based on your parents’ decisions towards your life.

Johnny reached towards the spare sweater he kept in his gym bag and handed it to you.

“Here, this has a hoodie. I don’t think anyone would be able to recognise you with it on,” Johnny said in a gentle tone, not even a hint of judgement in his voice.

You obliged and slipped the sweater on, as well as the hoodie onto your head. The sight of your small figure drowning in Johnny’s hoodie made him smile, he never thought his clothes would look so cute on you.

“Come on, it’s peak hour and I’m starving,” Johnny said with a smile that seems to always lift your mood.

You nodded mindlessly, eyes gazed into his warm honey filled eyes and soft smile. When Johnny’s trance broke on you, you quickly reached for the car door, only to see Johnny opening it for you.

‘Must be nice to have long legs to walk that fast,’ you thought to yourself.

But when he held his hand out to help you out of the car, that’s when your head went haywire and could only feel your cheeks burning up from the gentlemanly gesture that you hadn’t expected.

You hope your hand wasn’t shaking as obviously as it felt, or that would’ve been very embarrassing, you thank the skies for the chilly weather, or your hands would’ve started getting clammy from what a nervous wreck you’ve become.

The cold was getting to you as the both of you were waiting in line for a table and Johnny could tell from the way you subtly rubbed your neck, hands lingering there to leave some warmth as the wind blows by. Without thinking, he grabs the drawstrings of his hoodie and secures it surrounding your face like a cute chipmunk.

“There, all better.”

He could tell how nervous his bold action made you feel from the way you stuttered out a thank you, the two words almost lost in the wind from how soft it sounded.

Johnny didn’t know why, but the way you’ll get all flustered from his actions warms his chest like a cup of hot coco in the winter snow.

Not long after, the two of you had gotten a tiny table for two. It was cramped, but Johnny didn’t mind, as long as it’s this restaurant, and as a plus, he could see your face from a closer perspective. He was secretly admiring the shape of your cute little nose while he pretended to look through the menu that he knew like the back of his palm.

“What’s your favourite on the menu? I don’t know what to try first, all the pictures look so nice,” you said as your eyes was open wide with interest, taking in the photos of the food on the colourful menu.

Johnny was taken aback on how you had asked for his opinion instead of the demands of carvier and champagne that he used to hear all the time. He must’ve had a weird look on his face, because the silence made you furrow your brows.

“I’m sorry, that must’ve sounded weird and came off as boring, but I really don’t know what to get, so I thought you should suggest me something since you seem to come here often. Sorry, I ramble a lot when I’m nervous, I’m not a very sociable person, so the things I say might come off as odd...

“No, Y/N, listen, it’s fine. I like it when you talk, and it’s cute that you ramble. And no, I don’t find you odd or boring. I was just surprised you’d ask for my opinion, not many people do that unless it’s about business. I’m glad that you value my opinion, even if it’s just dinner,” Johnny explained, he wanted to listen to your voice longer, but the thought of anything making you uncomfortable surprisingly annoyed Johnny.

It was the first time someone had not found you awkward when you started rambling, you didn’t do it on purpose, it was just that the lack of human interaction made you socially anxious about talking to people and when you want to express something. Johnny is truly an eye opener for you.

Johnny might have ordered a little bit too much for the two of you, but he could always take away and leave it for Mark when he drops by tomorrow. Although Johnny had came here many times, mostly on his own or with Mark, he couldn’t deny the satisfaction and happiness that filled his heart as you tried all the dishes with the most wholesome expressions on your face.

You weren’t Johnny’s workers or business partners, you didn’t need to appease him and give him positive reactions, because with you, he wasn’t Neo Enterprise’s CEO, he was just Johnny and it doesn’t bother him one bit.

The two of you talked about the most random things, from Johnny’s business partners Taeyong and Doyoung fighting in his office, to the time you pranked your co worker by mixing some heavy alcohol into his coffee.

“He couldn’t tell?” Johnny asked, curious because he was a coffee addict himself.

“He thought it was just part of the flavour, it was one of those seasonal starbucks drinks that he bought,” you explained.

Johnny paid for dinner before you could protest and refused to take your money when you had offered to pay him back your share.

You trudged beside Johnny silently when he said that he was going to take you home, you haven’t had such a nice time since forever, and you didn’t want this beautiful moment to come to an end.

You had a sad smile on your face as you watched Johnny drive, it was a peaceful scenery to take in, his face calm as he steered comfortably, the radio once again playing softly in the background.

When you had reached your house, you didn’t really know how to react, other than looking at him silently as he does the same as well.

“Thank you for tonight Johnny, I haven’t had this much fun in a long time,” you said genuinely, grateful that someone as interesting as Johnny would even bother giving you the time of the day.

You figured that this was the polite thing to say, but you inwardly cursed at yourself for sounding like a robot. You shouldn’t be reacting this way, especially due to the fact that he’s so much more older than you are, maybe not too old, 5 to 6 years maybe? Is that considered a big age gap?

“I had a great time with you too, Y/N. Thank you for having dinner with me,” Johnny said, usually he spoke this sentence like a little white lie to whoever he had to meet for business sake, but to you? It was nothing but the truth.

Johnny continued holding his stare even after what he said, the sincerity in his eyes evident as a soft smile graces his lips.

“You should head up now, Y/N. It’s already 9 p.m., if you stay any longer they’ll be suspicious,” Johnny reminded you.

“Yeah, okay,” you replied, immediately feeling down once more.

Even after you agreed to go up, your legs weren’t willing to move, you were going to miss him, so you asked him one last question before you willed yourself to open the car door, you were going to sound desperate, but in that moment, you didn’t have a care in the world.

“Will I ever see you again?”

Happiness fills your heart as you heard the question that comes after.

“Are you working tomorrow?”

[aurumacadicus]

Roommates au(inspired by new girl) with Steve, Bucky, tony and Natasha or whoever with whatever pairing you prefer(completely your choice but I would love if the pairing included tony)

I saw one (1) episode of New Girl when it first started nine years ago so this is what you get:

“I still don’t understand why I have to stay here,” Tony mumbles into his phone as he unpacks his last box of clothes. “Because I’m deployed and live on-base,” Rhodey repeats for the fifth time. “And you don’t want to move back in with your parents. Natasha said they were looking for a fourth person for rent and you needed a place to stay after Tiberius--” Tony hangs up on him and tries desperately not to cry because the memory of walking in on Tiberius and Sunset fucking still makes him feel like he walked through a glass wall--confused, upset, and hurt. “Hey,” Steve says, leaning in the door. “We’re gonna order a pizza, what do you--oh my God,” he exclaims as Tony loses the battle and bursts into tears. Natasha shoves past him, puts a pint of Ben&Jerry’s in one of Tony’s hands and a spoon in the other, and then drags Steve away.

Maria says it’s been six months and he must start attending galas now. Tony is terrified of being cornered by Tiberius and/or Sunset and stress-cleans all of the dishes. “Maybe Natasha will go with you,” Bucky suggests. “She’s got a nice dress.” It’s true. Natasha has a nice dress. But “nice” isn’t good enough for a Maria Stark Gala. “I will dump Bucky for you,” Natasha says as he buys her an entire new wardrobe. “I’ll suck your dick every day. I will literally put up with missionary sex all our lives and pretend to love all six kids we have.” Tony doesn’t look up from picking out shoes for her. “I like to buy my friends presents so you don’t have to break up with Bucky. Also I like getting dicked down so you’d have to be okay with pegging me.” Natasha chokes and trips over her own feet, face-planting on the floor. They go to the gala and Tiberius and Sunset smirk at him but then they see Natasha and immediately turn their backs on him. “What happened?” Tony asks. Natasha just smiles at him sweetly and says, “Introduce me to your mother.”

Natasha is Tony’s designated date until the paparazzi realize she’s actually dating Bucky and that’s its own set of issues. Natasha and Bucky almost break up and the only reason they don’t is because Tony panics and says, “I’ll leave, I’ll leave, please stop, this is all my fault, I--” and he doesn’t even know he’s crying so Steve carefully takes him into his arms and then gives Natasha and Bucky a dirty look. For whatever reason, Steve’s dirty looks make most people feel as if they’ve just kicked a puppy in front of him, and with Steve holding him up Tony certainly looks like one, sobbing, and they quietly agree not to break up. They plan on breaking up later, when Tony can no longer blame himself, but then they realize they don’t actually want to break up, the rag mags just made them think they should, so they decide to stay together for real.

Steve becomes Tony’s designated date instead because he’s single. Steve is apprehensive about this mostly because he’s sort of in love with Tony because he’s kinda... not a guy you would bring home to your parents. “But you’re handsome and sweet and polite and shaped like a triangle and I literally watched you carry an old lady’s groceries for her the other day,” Tony says, bewildered. Steve sighs and puts on the suit Tony buys for him and then when Tiberius and Sunset approach he only has to see Tony flinch a little before his fist is up and he is breaking Tiberius’s nose. “WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?!” Sunset screams at him as she hovers over Tiberius. “Ma’am, I’m on a first-name basis with every judge in town,” Steve tells her kindly as security converges on them. “BECAUSE YOU GET ARRESTED SO MUCH?!” Tony shrieks in disbelief when he comes to bail Steve out. “I need you to understand that this is who I am,” Steve says, even as Tony smacks him with his checkbook and yells at him.

Maria says that Tony is not allowed to date Steve again in no uncertain terms. Tony is a contrary little shit and says, “You know what? I’m just gonna date him harder!” and Steve is actually pretty okay with Tony aggressively courting him because he’d actually been sure Tony just saw him as a friend. “You’re not just dating me for spite, right?” he asks to make sure. “You do have at least some feelings for me?” Tony scowls at him. “Steve, I have so many feelings for you it’s sickening. Ask Rhodey if you don’t believe me.” Steve does and is informed, “He has called me in crisis like... eight times since he moved in asking me if it was too soon for him to move on after Tiberius. Although to be fair one of those crises was him panicking because he told Natasha she needed to be down to peg him if they dated...” Steve considers this before answering, “I mean, it’s good to be upfront about what you need,” and Rhodey yells, “NOPE I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS ENOUGH WITH TONY GOODBYE!” Bucky hears about the pegging thing and laughs until he cries.

[airi-p4]

Last chance - Chapter 1

Ready for a new multi-chapter Lukanette angst fic? ;)

Rated: T

AO3 Link

___________________________________________________

Marinette’s POV

He’s gone.

I took him for granted. For my second chance, my second choice, my plan B. And now he’s gone.

I should have noticed when he kissed me. I thought it was out of greed or desperation, maybe jealousy. But it was not. It was his way to say goodbye. His last attempt to make me notice him. But I only hurt his feelings. And now he’s gone.

For some days, I thought it was alright. Sad, but still alright. He was my second, after all. I should be fine as long as my first choice and the love of my life was still there.

Until it wasn’t.

No matter how much time I spent with my boyfriend, it was never enough to fill in the void he left with me. No matter how many days, weeks, months or years passed by, my emptiness couldn’t be filled back.

I cried a lot, without knowing the reason why. For months, for years. Hiding my tears from my boyfriend.

And then I finally understood everything.

How he had never been my second choice. How he was always the one supporting me. My pillar. How I can’t be happy in a world without him.

I understood what true love was.

Comfort, trust, safety. Good and bad times spent together. Always together. Treasuring each other. Peace.

I misunderstood it for too long and now it’s too late. He’s gone. And he’ll never be back.

It doesn’t matter if I broke my engagement. It doesn’t matter how much I keep writing him messages that I’m unable to send everyday. It doesn’t matter how much I need him. Or how he is the only one I can ever love. He’s gone. Getting married soon, and surely forgotten about me. Probably with the worst impression I could ever leave on him. And I can’t blame him. It was all my own fault.

*Flashback*

“Why… Luka, why did you kiss me? You know I’m with Adrien! You can’t do this against my will! Take it back! I don’t want Adrien to hate me!”

“I’m not taking it back. NEVER”

“I HATE YOU!”

*Flashback ends*

How come I never noticed his pain? Why did I never consider his feelings? I was fond of his love for me. I would internally brag to myself for it. How Marinette is loved by two fantastic boys… How could I ever attempt to get him back after that? He hates me for sure. I hate myself for that, so of course he must hate me too.

Why give it a second chance to a love that ended once? Why should I retry going back to him when his feelings must be fully buried under the sea of his heart, dead. Would it be possible to access there through his deep, calm water-colored eyes? No, of course no. Because he is no longer here. He’s gone.

But how can I keep on going when I’m hurting this much? All my inspiration dried out, only anger, sadness and loneliness kept me going. And my head keeps spinning around, stressing over and over about how I’ll never be able to correct my mistakes.

And now I’ve sunk to the bottom. The dark bottom of my heart. Pitch black. Not a single spark of light is there. Nor hope.

I wonder how many days it has been. Weeks? Months, maybe? I see how my skin is getting whiter and I’m getting skinnier as time goes by. But I can’t help it. I’m not hungry, not even thirsty, not even sleepy. Physical pain has no effect on me anymore. But my heart… All my pain concentrated in that single spot of my body.

I can’t take it anymore… I want to disappear. Just fuse myself with the darkness I’m surrounded by. Turn ashes, or water, or air… maybe a star, if I’m lucky enough. Maybe… If some of Ladybug’s magic luck remains on me… just maybe... a miracle could happen.

Oh

Maybe, it can happen. Maybe I can do it.

I have nothing to lose, and everything to win.

Maybe I don’t have my second chance anymore but I can have one last chance- that’s right, the rabbit miraculous.

It’s been years since I returned the Miraculous box to the Temple of the Miraculous, but I’m still its Guardian. And I still have the only key to open it.

I can do it.

And if the rabbit fails I can always use the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous together… NO… I shouldn’t... If my most precious thing is taken, then there’s no reason to use the wish. I have to make it right with the rabbit. Yes, that’s exactly what I need. I’ll correct this timeline. I’ll rewrite the past, change this reality and be happy at last. It's my only hope.

My last chance.

I stand up from my desk and pass through the door to go see my secretary.

“Sabrina, buy me a ticket to Tibet for tomorrow and cancel all my appointments for this and next week”

“Are you sure, Marinette?” she is surprised. Of course she would be.

“Do it. Tell all the employers they have a two week vacation break”

“Understood. Any seat preference for the plane?”

“I don’t care about that. Just buy me the flight that leaves the earlier the better. I'm counting on you.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as it’s booked”

That’s why I like her. So reliable. “Thanks”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re smiling again. You look way prettier now”

I never noticed I was smiling, or that my face looked better. Is it the power of hope? Probably. I just need to get my things ready. Knowing Sabrina, my leave will be imminent.

I leave the office and reach home in 10 minutes and the phone rings just 10 minutes later.

“Marinette, it’s Sabrina. Your flight is leaving tomorrow morning, 10AM. Be there 2 hours earlier for security procedures.”

“Thanks, Sabrina. I owe you one”

“No, you don’t. I’m always glad to help a friend. I hope you can find what you’re looking for there. Have a safe trip”

“Thank you. Enjoy your vacation”

“I surely will. See you later”

It’s still somewhat strange how my enemy and rival’s BFF is now my secretary. I’m glad I can call her my friend now. She has helped me in a lot of ways, but not even Sabrina or Alya, or any of my friends can cure my loneliness. Not when he is no longer by my side...

The next day, 8AM.

Charles de Gaulle, Paris' International Airport

It’s been a while since I was last here. Since… yeah, that time. The time I tried to reach out to Luka after knowing he was leaving. The day I keep regretting over and over for all these years. Regretting how I never made it on time before he left. How he left just like that, from one day to another. No goodbye. Nothing. He was just gone. I couldn’t stop him and we've never met again after that. Just stepping here triggers the memories of that day I keep trying to bury deep inside my mind.

Yes. It was also that day. The day after the kiss. Our first and only kiss. The kiss I refused to accept for months but that I would give anything now for it to repeat.

Which is exactly what I’m about to do.

I’ve been avoiding coming here all these years for a reason, relying on private planes and small airports. But now I’m here to make this reason disappear. So I can go back to the time he was here. The time I was unknowingly the happiest. Not because of Adrien or any of my friends. Just because Luka was still there, by my side.

I still feel stupid how I didn’t notice my feelings earlier. Even my own feet knew better than me. Anytime I needed support, Luka was the answer. Anytime I needed calm, Luka was there for me. Anytime I wanted to share some happy news, Luka was always happy on my behalf. Anytime I needed a shoulder to cry on, Luka lent me his. And even after he left, my feet kept taking me to where he used to be. Even if his boat was nowhere to be seen anymore. Even if his apartment had a new tenant. My feet always knew better than me. Searching him felt like a need for my body.

But now these feet need to go to a far place, trespassing first through the main doors of the airport.

I search for my flight on the big screen. 10AM, Beijing. There it is. Counter… OK, I know where to go. Tibet, here I come.

I can only take 5 steps until I collide into something. A person. Familiar clothes. Too familiar, maybe. And not the ones I wished to see.

“I can’t let you go, Marinette”

“Alix...”

“I know what you are about to do. I’ve been warned. I can’t let you do it”

“Alix, I need to go. I really need to do this.”

“No, you don’t. You can’t”

“I will”

“You need to stop. You should know better than anyone the consequences. The reason you took away my miraculous… everyone's miraculous... I can’t let you do it”

“Well, Alix, I’m sorry, but you can’t stop me! Look at me. Do I look like I have anything to lose? Do you think I’m strong enough to keep living like this? With all this regret? With this pain? Surrounded by pitch black darkness? No! I’m not strong enough. I’ve tried for so long… I thought I could move on, but I couldn’t! And I can’t take it anymore... ”

“There are other ways…”

“Oh, yeah, I thought of other ways too. The only other one that could probably convince me was jumping from the balcony of my 5th floor apartment. Or maybe from the Eiffel Tower. Ladybug dying on the Eiffel Tower would be even more dramatic, even poetic, I would say. Should I go with this instead?”

“Marinette. There ARE other ways”

“No, there ARE NOT. You know how I work. How I always find a plan for everything. How Ladybug can make anything succeed. Well, this time my only plan involves the Miraculous. So I have no choice but to do it”

“You don’t understand”

“I DO understand. I can’t keep living like this anymore. Luka is getting married. I’ve been avoiding all his dating news, but you can’t run away from them when an internationally well-known French Rock Star like him gets engaged to Chloé Bourgois, former Queen Bee and one of the best stylists in the world. Which means, I don’t have a second chance anymore. It’s too late. He’s gone. Forever. And I’ll also be gone forever too if I don’t go to Tibet right now. Just look at me! Regret is destroying me from my insides. I have nothing to lose anymore...”

Sabrina had tried to hide Chloé’s Wedding Day from me, knowing how I was pining over Luka. But she received an invitation to their wedding, and she marked it on her personal journal. She asked me if she could have that day free. ‘Family matters’, she said. I knew she was being considerate, but knowing Luka was going to be married in two months made him completely unreachable for me. No more draft messages could help me calm down anymore. And the fact that I’m not even invited… It only makes it clearer how he despises me, hates me… or maybe how he has completely erased myself from his memories. I’ve hurt him for so long, so it’s only natural but… not even time can heal me.

But I can restore everything with the Miraculous magical powers.

“You really DO NOT understand”

“I DO! Why do you keep telling me I don’t? I’m greedy! Having my friends is not enough for me anymore! I NEED him. It’s always been him!”

“Marinette. LISTEN TO ME. I’m here because YOU - The future YOU, asked me to come”

“I don’t believe it”

“Futurebug said you wouldn’t. But you need to, because you still have a second chance”

“That’s impossible. I’ve been thinking about this for years and there is no other way, I’m sure of it”

“NO. You’ve just been too scared to try. There’s something you can still do. Something you’ve been too scared to do. The answer you’ve been looking for has always been in your hands. Inside your draft folder. Why haven’t you tried to reach him? Why did you keep your feelings to yourself? You are too afraid of rejection. That’s why you never tried”

Alix is right. I’m scared- no, I’m TERRIFIED. I’ve always been. Every single day since he left. Rejection would be the final piece to my complete defeat. Funny how humans' survival instincts worked… Always avoiding damage, trying hard to live no matter what… That’s what I’ve been doing since that day. I tried replacing his place with Adrien’s love, but it didn’t work out. Everything I tried failed. But I'm afraid Alix is right: I can’t say I put all my effort on Luka. Not when I couldn’t dare to see, talk or even contact him out of my fear. Fear of rejection. Can I be more pathetic?

“Marinette. Just send them. All of them. All your drafts. Send them to him. Let him know how you feel”

“And what would be the point? That would change nothing. He’s getting married, nothing I do can change that. Not after all these years…”

“Why don’t you try? You said it yourself: you have nothing to lose. Give it a try”

She’s right… I have nothing to lose… And if I fail, I can always continue with my plan to change the past and to make this timeline disappear -even with the consequences it would take. I’m still afraid but...

“Ok. I’ll do it. I’ll send them. But with one condition”

“I'm all ears. You know that, Buginette”

“If I do… if I send them… You are not interfering with my plan anymore”

“Deal. But only if you send them ALL, and NOW. In front of me, and wait one week before doing anything stupid”

“ALL of them? There’s more than 900…”

“I know. Almost one for every day you were apart... I want you to send them all. Don’t make that disgusted face. We have a deal?”

“OK. I’m sending all of them. But we have a deal. You’re not interfering anymore”

I know I have nothing to lose but this is still not as easy as I thought… Unlock screen, Mail, Draft folder, there it is. Send them all button… Is my smartphone screen looking blurry? Why is it so hard to press a single button that’s just in front of me? Wait. How do I know he hasn’t changed his e-mail address? Or maybe erased it? I can’t know... but I can not not send them… I have a deal with Alix, and I really want to take this last chance... My finger is just over the button. Just one touch and… press.

“That’s it. Sent”

“Well done, Buginette! I’m proud of you!”

I can’t believe I really sent all those, after all this time… I’m somehow… relieved. Being held by Alix has a slightly calming effect on me too. When did she grow so tall?

“Hey! Don’t cry, Marinette… Now you can go on without regret… you did your best”

I don’t know when I started crying. I didn’t notice. I don’t know when I started clinging to Alix in order to cry desperately. Like a little child who misses his mother or like if someone has just presenciated they loved one’s final breath. I can feel how all the tears I’ve been collecting inside my heart for a long time have started spilling from my eyes. Unstoppable, salty, heavy. Filled with all these years sadness and regret. Now leaving my body drop by drop.

I don’t know how much time has passed. But I can hear how the airline is calling for me. I feel better, lighter. Something lifted from my body. But I’m scared. It’s not that I expect Luka to really see or answer my messages… but there’s that ‘what if?’ feeling one can’t avoid having after making a decision. Even more if it’s a matter of life decision like the one I just took.

“I have to go. Thanks Alix”

“Remember we have a deal. Don’t do anything stupid”

“I know. One week. I can do that. I have nothing to lose, anyway”

“Take care”

“Thanks Alix. You too”

I feel gross from all my crying. Wet, dirty, snots coming out my nose… Thank god Alix had some tissues with her… I used all of them and I still need more. I’ll have to go to the toilet after I finish my check-in. I’m thankful for Alix support, but I can’t look back. What’s the point of sending all those messages now, anyway? I have to be realistic. He’s gone. And this ticket I’ve just got is giving me one last chance.

My only and last chance.

[shreddedparchment]

A World of Our Own Pt.06

Broken Hearts

09/20/2020

Pairing: Bucky x Reader          Word Count: 6,012

Warnings: violence, blood, suggestive themes, language

A/N: I’ve been so excited for this chapter for so long. Probably just one or two more chapters after this. I hope you enjoy it! If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

Ryan’s chuckle is infectious, and you can’t help but laugh along with him as he leans over to stoke the flames of your campfire.

It’s warm. Cozy by the roaring ocean waves that bring with it a cool briny breeze.

“Don’t laugh at me. It was very traumatizing.” Ryan demands, putting the large stick he’s been using to poke the fire aside before leaning back against new palm logs that he and Bucky had chopped for seating.

Even though you’re meant to sit on them, all of you seem to prefer to sit on blankets you’d stitched together from clothing too worn to use anymore.

“I feel bad for the shark. It has probably never seen a naked man before in its life and you’re out here dangling your bits all over its face.” You tease, shaking your head as if you really disapprove of him.

“Wha-?!” Ryan gasps, mouth wide open as he struggles to find a comeback.

“I was mindin’-” he takes a lengthy pause. “-mah own business-”

He places his hand on his chest as he pauses again, the wheels in his brain working quickly to come up with his excuse.

“-when this very large an’ scary fish comes out of the depths an’ charges me. I was the one scrambling ta get back ta shore. I was the one who was given a heart attack. Not the bloody shark!”

“Well, why were you swimming so far out?” You ask him, chuckling again and feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment at the memory of watching him run out of the water screaming at the top of his lungs, “Shark! Shark! Shark!” completely naked.

You’re not ashamed to say that there was nothing there that wasn’t worth looking at, but it was only an afterthought that you now think of as opposed to noticing in the moment.

You’d turned around instantly and gasped, completely confused as to why he was running towards you naked until you’d heard what he was saying.

“Should I start the fish?” Ryan asks, reaching for the folded leaves beside him where you’d put the cleaned fish when the sun had still been out.

It’s very obvious that Ryan isn’t answering your question.

Both you and Bucky have been watching him closely over the past month, since he’d first shown up completely wet, wondering where it is that he goes when he swims.

It wouldn’t make you so suspicious if he weren’t randomly disappearing when he takes these swims. He waits until you and Bucky are busy, distracted, then wanders off without a word.

Bucky has made you swear not to follow him, afraid of what Ryan might be capable of if he is up to something and is suddenly caught.

Problem is Bucky also refuses to leave you alone anymore, so he doesn’t get to tail Ryan either.

Until Ryan chooses to answer your question, neither of you will ever know where he goes.

“Sure.” You nod, then reach to place the metal sheet that Bucky had made for cooking food without having to deal with embers and ash on the fish.

Ryan separates each fish into one leaf on its own then places them on the thin sheet so that they might bake.

The two of you work in silence for a bit, sitting across the fire from each other, you steal glances at him, and he returns each look. He smiles, his expression kind and so trustworthy that you think in moments like these that you and Bucky might be wrong about him.

“Ryan?” You begin, hesitant.

He smiles to encourage you.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He nods, smile vanishing as his face becomes a little more serious. Confused as to why you think you have to ask.

“Why don’t you talk about your son?” You wonder, now having said the words your mouth keeps going. “You drop this bomb and then never mention him again. I wasn’t sure whether you didn’t want to talk about him, so I never asked. If you��d prefer not to, I understand. There are things I’d rather not talk about to. Everyone is entitled to their secrets. I just—a kid is such a big part of who you are, right? Not the only part of you, obviously but he’s your son. You must think about him all the time.

“Who did you leave him with? He must miss you so much. I’m so sorry that you’re stuck here, with us, instead of home with your boy.” You sigh, and your breath shudders.

You smile at him awkwardly, realizing you’ve rambled on nervously.

“Sorry.” You offer, “I kinda just go off when I’m nervous.”

Ryan’s face is the picture of relaxation, however. He’s not smiling, but he doesn’t look upset that you’ve asked.

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head and you’re certain that he’s going to tell you he doesn’t want to talk about it, but then… “To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t really sure that you or Bucky cared to know about Conor.”

“His name is Conor?” You gasp, smiling already like an idiot as you start to imagine a mini version of Ryan. Sandy blonde hair, lovely eyes, light skin.

“Aye, wee tyke is only five but when he talks to you, he sounds much older.” Finally, he smiles, the admiration of a father pouring out of him as he thinks about his little boy.

“Does he look like you or his mother?” You wonder, eager for details now that he’s talking.

“He looks like his mother. Almost my exact opposite. Dark hair and skin. Perhaps a bit lighter than his mother but he’s her spittin’ image. Dark eyes too. Just as beautiful.” Ryan says, a bit more forlorn than before.

Your own smile falters, wondering if maybe he and Conor’s mother are no longer together? Jeez, you really hope that he isn’t still married and flirting with you the way he has been. Not that you blame him being stuck on an island with no other women, but still.

Ryan seems like the type of man to devote himself completely.

“Is she-?” You offer, just to see if he’d like to open up.

He meets your gaze, holding it for a long moment before he tilts his head a little as he makes his choice quickly.

“Grace died. Just after giving birth to Conor. Conor almost went with her, but he pulled through and we have made a go of it, I think.” He gives you another smile. “I think he’s happy. Or was, before all this.”

“I’m so sorry, Ryan. I’m sure Conor loves and appreciates you very much.” His story is tragic, and your heart truly breaks for him.

“Thank you. Gettin’ back to him is the only thing that matters now.” He nods, looking more at ease. “It feels good to talk about them if I’m honest. I havin’ really spoken about it ta anyone other than mah parents. That’s who Conor is with, by the way. You were wonderin’ earlier.”

“You can always talk to me. About anything.” You assure him.

His smile grows wider and any sorrow left in his eyes vanishes as he looks down at the cooking fish before giving his head a minute shake.

“What?” You ask, your own voice shaking with the hint of laughter at the amused expression on his face.

“I was just thinkin’ about how unfortunate it is that you’re taken now. You would have made him a proper step-mom maybe.” His bold words stun you.

At a loss for what to say, you can only seem to focus on the way your neck begins to burn.

Ryan clearly enjoys watching you squirm for the two second that he has to do so before Bucky’s voice breaks the tension.

“Keep that up and you’ll lose your room.” Bucky warns, a playful note in his voice but really you can hear how serious he is.

“I just got it.” Ryan protests, looking towards the hut down the beach.

Bucky worked so hard on the build, elevated and sturdy with each brick placed with care and somewhat expert precision. The gambrel roof, which Bucky chose so that you could use the extra space to hang clothes and food away from where animals might find them, is tall and thatched with the fronds you’d worked so hard to tear and resew to keep the hut safe from the elements.

The hut is split in two down the center with two entrances. When you face the hut, the left side of it is taken by Ryan, a flight of bamboo stairs leading up to the curtained entrance. The right side belongs to you and Bucky.

“Stop flirting with my girl then, and I’ll let you keep it.” Bucky threatens, this time it’s clear he means it.

Ryan holds up his hands in defeat as you turn to devour you freshly bathed Bucky. In jeans and a t-shirt, he looks almost as if he’s ready to begin his day but instead of being productive he drops his dirty clothes into the handmade basket you’d woven with the extra strips of palm fronds then moves towards you. He takes hold of your face, tilting it back so that you might look up at him.

He leans down to look at you, smiling pleasantly.

“Hi.” He tells you, voice deep and penetrating.

“Hi.” You reply. “You smell good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He leans down and kisses you, lips so sweet and fresh you could really just do this all night. He holds it for a few moments before he begins pushing you to scoot forward.

You move as he wants you to, looking back at him as he sits himself behind you, legs spread wide before he pulls you back to sit between his legs which he props up on either side of you. His arms wrap around your stomach and while your happiness quadruples with this unyielding affection he seems to shower on you lately, you can’t help but notice the way Ryan looks away, a small twinge of bitterness in his expression.

It’s just the island. You tell yourself, certain that if you all weren’t stuck here, you wouldn’t be so lucky as to hold the attention of two very beautiful men.

Although you’re certain, you can’t help but wonder if Ryan really does like you. Is it possible?

~~~~~~~~~~

Time doesn’t stop. Not for you stuck on this island. Not for Bucky, torn from the promise of a new life. Not for Ryan who misses his son and is losing more and more time with him. With time is taken all hope that you’ll ever be rescued but the three of you refuse to speak the words aloud.

In silence, there is the illusion of hope and you cannot afford to let it go.

Days roll into weeks and the three of you try to keep your spirits up. It’s easier for you and Bucky, you assume. Finally, being with him has changed very little and so much all at once.

The biggest change is your sleeping arrangements. The hut has been built for a while now. Two months it feels like, going on three. Six months going on seven since you three have been trapped here.

With the hut came privacy, the adobe wall that splits it in two gives you and Bucky the luxury of cuddling as you used to in the fuselage without the worries of being accidentally disturbed.

Because of this, in the morning Bucky’s warm kisses trail along your cheeks, your neck, onto your collarbone raising tingles in all the right places before he finds his way up to your lips.

His arms wrap themselves around you as hey lays himself over you and you raise your leg to hold him close.

“Good morning.” He whispers and your eyes open, devouring the beautiful image of him. Clean and dry. Not a drop of sweat on his perfect skin whereas your own is dewy and you’re in need of a morning swim.

“Good morning.” You whisper, your body burning for him.

It doesn’t help that you can feel him pressed against your thighs, stiff and awake with the morning.

With your lips suddenly dry, you run your tongue along them, wetting them as your breath hitches when he rolls his hips from side to side as he adjusts himself over you.

You know that he doesn’t mean it to make your blood boil, but it does and you snake your hands down to his waist before your fingers worm their way underneath his t-shirt and gently tickle his smooth skin.

“What are you doing?” He asks you, a smile in his voice as he raises an eyebrow but hold you closer.

“I don’t know.” You shrug, licking your lips again.

He huffs a laugh, cool air raising goosebumps along your neck.

“I think you know.” He counters, amused by your attempt to seduce him.

“Then why ask?” You reach down, sliding your hand down underneath the waistband of his underwear, breath catching in your throat at the swell of his bum.

“Y/N,” He pleads, a small hint of a chastising tone to his words. “We can’t.”

“But I want to.” You whimper, tired of begging. It’s been so long since the two of you have been together. For what feels like forever now.

“So, do I, kitten. Trust me.” He wiggles his hips, probably just trying to get comfortable but he inadvertently eggs you on, proves his point by pressing his erection against you—accidentally of course.

“Then…” You try it even though you know he’ll say no. Even though this argument has failed so many times. “…I can just-I’ll give you something and you don’t have to give me anything back.”

“I could never do that.” He argues, his face contorting a bit more. The hints of anger rising.

“Then we can just stop there, Bucky. We’ve got control, don’t we? I wanna suck your co-”

“Jesus, Y/N.” Bucky rolls off of you, sitting at the edge of the low bed with his elbows on his knees as he looks across the hut to the opposite wall, his breathing a little heavy.

You sit up, blinking away the tears of rejection because you know he doesn’t mean it in that way. You know what his worry is because it’s you’re worry too.

“I’m sorry.” You move up behind him, hugging him around his chest and resting your cheek against his solid back.

The rapid rate of his heart tells you how much he wants you even if he can’t see to let himself show it. You take solace in that as you splay your hands on his chest, breathing in the scent of the coconut oil you’d infused into the handmade soap you’d worked on several weeks ago.

“I…you know that we can’t.” He frets, still upset.

“I do.” You shake your head. “I’m just-”

He hears the sob trapped in your throat and he turns so quickly you nearly fall over but he’s there, holding you tight against his chest, hands caressing the back of your head as the other wraps around your shoulders.

“I want you, kitten. Believe me. I do. If I could be sure that we wouldn’t mess up…You were the one that set this boundary.” He reminds you, pulling back to look at you as shame overcomes you.

He’s right of course. You’d told him that you didn’t want to sleep with him until the two of you could be sure that you wouldn’t get pregnant. Not here. Not on this island. There was too much that could go wrong. Too much danger for a baby, not to mention birthing one here with no doctors in case something went wrong.

No, you couldn’t do it and so you’d both agreed.

But…

“I didn’t think we’d still be here.” You huff, burying your face into his chest to hide your embarrassment.

Bucky breathes a little more lightly, almost laughing again at the shift. This conversation has gone from up to down and right back up.

“I know, babe.” He whispers, resting his chin on your head as he strokes your back with both hands. “To be honest, my patience is also wearing thin.”

You pull back quickly, searching to get a look at his eyes to see if he might be lying. He isn’t and it does make you feel better that you aren’t the only one struggling with this abstinence.

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to wait.” He confesses.

“Me neither.” You sigh. “But you already knew that.”

His face breaks into a smile and you’re calm again, happy to see that beautiful expression on his handsome face. Silver blue eyes all crinkled at the corners.

You reach up to touch his hair, giving it a decent appraisal. “You need another cut.”

“I think we should go shorter this time.” He nods.

“Like a little higher than your chin?” You touch the spot, but Bucky shakes his head.

“No, I mean, short.”

You gasp. “Bucky, I don’t think I trust myself to do that.”

“I trust you.” He counters but you shake your head.

Nope. You’re not going to risk butchering his lovely locks.

“I won’t do it, Barnes.” You frown.

“Stubborn ass.” He glowers.

“Fuck you.” You retort.

“Not yet.” He teases.

“I hate you!” You spit at him, because you can already see the laugh coming at that unfair statement and you shove away from him, moving towards the clothes you’ve got packed in one of the salvaged suitcases to pull out your favorite pair of jean shorts and a plain red t-shirt.

He’s laughing as you dress and doesn’t stop when you’re gone.

Making your way down to the campfire, you search for Ryan, half expecting to find him cooking fish for breakfast but he’s nowhere to be found.

As Bucky joins you, dressed in the same t-shirt with his own favorite pair of jeans on, you place your hands on your hips and look towards the stretch of water where the cockpit had once been visible.

It seems to have sunk to the floor now that the tide has risen and fallen so many times, taking the plane with it.

“What’s the matter?” Bucky wonders, lifting his foot onto the trough he’s been mixing more clay in again, working on something secret that he refuses to let you in on just yet.

“I’ll tell you when it’s relevant. Right now, it’s just a precaution. Trust me, okay? If I need to bring it up, I will.” Then he’d gone back to lining the outside of the hut with metal sheets from the plane before sealing them over with clay.

He laces up his boot but watches you as he works.

“He’s gone again.” You shake your head.

“He hasn’t tried anything.” Bucky ponders. “If he was going to hurt us, he would have done it by now.”

“I know, it’s just…” You bite your lip.

“He is hiding something.” Bucky agrees, this conversation having played out so many times. “But I think he also wants some distance from us. We’re probably annoying to be around.”

“We’re not that bad anymore.” You argue.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky whispers, his lips suddenly at your ear.

He kisses it, slipping your lobe into his mouth as your eyes shut to the pleasure the gesture raises.

“You’re not making this any easier.” You sigh but turn to look at him and without hesitation pull him down to meet your lips with his own.

The kiss is a frenzy, heated and eager as your hands grope and cling as Bucky’s also press and pull against the flesh of your hips and ass leaving burning bruises behind.

Out here where you might get caught is the safest place to be this affectionate. Where you can’t take this any further than this passionate kiss.

“Do ya really have ta do that so early in the mornin’?” Ryan’s voice cuts in, interrupting just as you both intend.

Bucky pulls away first, letting the smack of your kiss echo before giving you one devilish grin then marching back to the trough.

“Sorry.” You turn to Ryan, hoping your expression is rightly chastised. “Fish?”

Ryan holds it up to indicate his catch then moves towards you to hand it over for cleaning.

You settle down beside him on your usual stump, pulling out your makeshift knives and gut the fish with the precision of someone who’s done this everyday for half a year. Ryan gets to building a new fire, gathering as much of the ash for you as he can for when you decide to make more soap.

While you work, you watch him, stealing glances at the subtle downturn to the corners of his lips.

The longer he works the more he seems to wallow.

Once the fish is settled over the fire, you turn in your spot to focus your attention on him.

“What?”

Slightly startled, he turns to you with wide eyes, all traces of the depression he’s been in gone.

“What?” He sounds confused.

“What’s the matter with you?” You clarify.

“Oh.” He sighs and shakes his head.

You know you can guess. “Conor?”

“Aye, Conor.” The sadness returns to his face and your heart gives a painful lurch for him.

He must miss his son so much.

“He’s probably startin’ school this month.” He laments, stoking the fire.

“It’s his first year?”

“Aye, I hope he isn’t scared.” Ryan hopes.

“I’m sure he’s just as brave as his dad.” You offer in comfort, giving Ryan as kind a smile as you can muster.

“We’ll get off this island, Ryan. Someone will come. Even if it’s by accident. Even if it’s years from now. You’ll be with Conor again.” You hope, because even though you want it to be a promise, you don’t know.

Ryan’s face contorts, agony ripping through him for one quick second before he meets your gaze and reaches out to take hold of your hand.

“I think…” Bucky begins from the trough, Ryan’s hand freezing mere inches from your own.

He takes it back and clears his throat, the look of pain vanishing from his handsome face before he looks to Bucky just as you do.

Bucky’s gaze is focused on the horizon, the ocean waves unnaturally gentle. It’s a beautiful day.

“What is it babe?” You call, trying to pull Bucky out of his thoughts.

He turns his furrowed brow back to the two of you, “I think we might have to move to the cave. Soon.”

“The cave?” You rise, glancing at the fish to make sure they’re not burning. “The one Ryan was in when he landed?”

Ryan sits back, a perplexed gaze fixed on Bucky.

“Yeah. Do you think you can show me where it is?”

“Why would ya need to go there?” Ryan reaches out to stoke the fire once again, pulling his gaze away from you both.

“Bucky?” You worry, moving towards him as he straightens up and wipes his hands clean to take your hand as you reach him.

“We won’t need to go there yet.” He assures you, wrapping his metal arm around your waist to pull you into his side. “It’s just a precaution.”

“A precaution against what?”

“It’s hurricane season. The hut is…I’m not exactly an architect. I’ve done what I can with what we have but that hut is not meant to withstand a hurricane. When it comes down to it, we might be able to take shelter in the fuselage if we have to but with the three of us, the cave might be a better option. How did you hold up in the caves during that first storm?” Bucky gestures to Ryan.

Ryan spares you both a glance before nodding. “There was minor flooding at the back jus’ before the exit by the jungle but otherwise it was dry and safe. It’s not a bad plan.”

“Then you’ll show me where it is?” Bucky insists.

“It’s not hard ta find, but sure. Tomorrow morning?” Ryan turns to him.

Bucky nods leaning down to press a kiss to your head.

The memory of that initial hurricane just after you’d crash landed here fills you with worry. What if you do have to go through another one and this one is worse? How likely is it that you’d die from a storm before you get rescued?

“Don’t worry, kitten. I’ll keep you safe.” Bucky whispers, reaching up to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand where there is no clay.

“I wish you didn’t have to shoulder so much.”

“Taking care of you is never too much.” Bucky smiles. “I kinda look forward to it actually.”

“Why?” You wonder, absolutely confused.

“Because I do. Don’t question it. Just accept it. You’re never getting rid of me.” He teases.

“Even when we’re rescued?” You turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Especially when we’re rescued.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you once, then starts to lean down towards you for a kiss.

“I’m going for a swim.” Ryan announces, breaking the little bubble you and Bucky are in.

Without ceremony, Ryan moves straight for water headed towards the crash site without even feigning a different direction.

This draws both yours and Bucky’s attention as both of you are well aware that Ryan has still been swimming out to the cabin, but he’s taken such great care to go at it in roundabout ways. While strange, you guess that he must be more upset about Conor than even you could tell.

Your mind replays the agonized look he’d given you before when you’d promised him that rescue would be coming. Maybe he could tell that it was only your hope?

“He misses Conor. He should be starting school soon.” You explain.

“Mm.” Bucky nods, accepting your explanation.

“If there were any photos, he would have found them already, wouldn’t he?” You wonder, curious to no end about your new friend.

Sure, you have suspicions, but after so much time spent with him, you’ve both accepted him as a part of your life here. Ryan has your trust. And though you know it was given reluctantly, Bucky’s too.

“Maybe he just can’t bear to give up. I know I wouldn’t.” Bucky looks down at you, giving you a squeeze.

“If you had a son?” You ask.

“I’m not opposed to the idea.” Bucky stuns you, pulling you to look at him with his words to see how serious he might be about it. “With you. When the time is right.”

Your heart is pounding. Your mind is reeling. Bucky wants to have kids with you?

“You promise?” You gasp, so shocked your voice is mostly air.

“I love you.”

You smile, loving the words that spill from his lips.

“You do?”

Bucky smiles then chuckles, reaching up to squeeze the back of your neck, and you know that he’s telling you the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You smell good.” Bucky sighs, holding the blanket open for you as you take off your shoes and slip into the bed and nestle into Bucky’s arms. “Good bath?”

You can hear the exhaustion in his voice. He’s been working so hard to fortify the hut for smaller storms that might hit.

“Yes.” You hug him, cuddling in against his side as he drapes the blanket over you.

“You’re wearing your shorts?” He checks, and he’s right.

You’ve chosen to sleep in your second set of shorts, dark gray cloth instead of jeans and your tattered blue floral dress.

Because you don’t answer, Bucky adjusts to look down at you, forcing himself awake.

“Kitten?”

“I’m just…I want to be ready if we need to go short notice.” You confess, shutting your eyes and refusing to look at him. You don’t want him to see the fear.

“Ready for what?”

“Anything. Hurricanes.” You admit and wish you could throw away this fear.

You’re almost expecting Bucky to chastise you for your worrying but instead he settles into the plane cushion bed again and cuddles you closer.

“That’s smart.” He approves. “But we won’t have anywhere to run until tomorrow morning. Ryan has to show us the cave first.”

“Can I come?” You’re already drifting off, voice weak and slurring.

Bucky’s is the same, both of you exhausted from the day’s work.

“You kidding? I’m not letting you outta my sight.” He mumbles, his breathing getting heavier.

You almost smile but sleep takes you and your mind is overcome with dreams of thunderous clouds.

~~~~~~~~~~

For a moment Bucky isn’t sure what he’s hearing. He can feel you stirring to the sound in his arms and he tries to hold you tighter.

You were so scared before, the look of terror in your eyes at the prospect of being caught in a storm worse than the one you weathered before.

He wants to make sure you feel safe and secure with him. He’ll protect you from weather and predator, whether that’s animal or stupid fucking Ryan.

You tug away from him hard though and the sound…a humming…no, a loud thumping. It’s hard to place as he tries to both understand the sound and also figure out why you’re no longer lying beside him.

“Y/N?” He searches, sleepily pushing himself onto one elbow as he hears you bolt for the door.

Suddenly he’s wide awake and he can hear you rounding the hut to the other set of stairs on the other side.

He pulls his boots on quickly, sliding his feet in and lacing them with nimble fingers loosely.

“He’s gone!” You cry out, the pure panic in your voice as the sound overhead suddenly makes sense to Bucky.

A helicopter! It thuds loudly, motor whirring and buzzing and blowing sand everywhere while whipping trees back and forth.

Bucky springs form the hut and sees you already racing towards the trees where you can see the chopper headed.

He passes you quickly, easily. But he doesn’t stop because he knows that you would never forgive him.

Bucky runs faster than he’s ever run in his life, barreling through dense jungle but never once missing a step.

The branches of certain trees scrape at his skin and slap his face, but he doesn’t relent in his pursuit.

It takes minutes for him to reach a small field of tall grass. It’s sways violently in the chopper’s wind and at the center of this field is Ryan.

Bucky stops, taking in the sight as a blinding spotlight shines on Ryan first then quickly swings towards him.

Ryan follows the beam and when he sees Bucky take a step towards him, he reaches down to his hip where a holster suddenly sits. He pulls a gun, a 9mm Beretta from what Bucky can tell, and stops his advance.

“Stop!” Ryan orders, his voice tight and commanding.

As the chopper descends a little more to hover at fifty feet, a steel wire ladder falls down towards Ryan as Bucky begins to notice the metal case in his other arm.

“What’s in there?” Bucky asks, staying as still as he can until he might have a chance to pounce.

“The other black box.” Ryan says simply, his voice softer but defiant. “Parts of it.”

Bucky’s glare is piercing and if Ryan didn’t have that gun, he would probably have already fled.

“I had to…” Ryan begins, still combative in tone but Bucky realizes that the anger in it is not directed at him. “They have me by the balls, mate. When Grace died, Conor would have followed, but they found me, and they offered to save his life. That is a debt I can never repay.”

Bucky’s fists tighten, anger bubbling up to choke him so that he cannot speak. These schemes, it has to be Hydra. No one else would want him dead.

“Who’s they?” He forces himself to ask, just to make sure.

It could be the U.S. Government too if he’s being completely honest. They could very well want him out of the way.

“I don’t know. People.” Ryan throws out, and Bucky believes that he doesn’t know. “All I know is they wanted you out of the way. If I had known that she…I didn’t know that she would be there. I didn’t know that they would die.”

Ryan’s voice grows thick and he shakes his head, ridding himself of whatever thoughts his guilt have conjured up.

“If I don’t finish the job, they’ll kill mah boy.” He holds the gun steadier, catching his breath before he makes his face as stoic as possible. “This is all I can give her. I can’t save her, but I can at least do this much. I can give her you. They’ll think you’re dead. I’ll make sure.”

Bucky sees it now. The real emotions behind his eyes. Ryan does love you. He’s certain of it now. He also understands what he’s saying and leans forward, angling himself so that when Ryan shoots, the bullet will hit his shoulder. Too high to be his chest and endanger his lungs or heart.

“Tell her I’m sorry.” Ryan pleads, and squeezes the trigger.

Bucky’s mind races with possibilities. Ryan might miss. He could hit him where he will not recover and then you’d be left here alone on this island. You’d hate him for not fighting and hate Ryan for killing him. He could bleed out and Bucky can’t imagine you here without him.

The bullet pierces him just where he’d hoped and falls to the ground with a heavy thud and goes as still as he can possibly can.

He holds his breath, pushing through the pain that burns from his right shoulder, and hoping that the chopper will leave quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gasping with a stitch in your side and your legs made of jelly, you break through the trees onto a field you’ve passed a few times here on the island but avoided in case of snakes.

The sight before freezes you. Ryan shoots. Bucky falls.

Ryan turns to a wire ladder and begins to climb, and you race to Bucky, sobs already shaking your body.

“Bucky, no!” You gasp. “Please. Please, don’t be dead.”

As you reach him, you turn him over, and see that his eyes are wide open, reading your heartbroken expression as he remains unmoving while you press your hands against his wound.

You continue to sob, turning your eyes to the chopper overhead as it pulls away and takes with it all hope of your rescue.

As it fades into the distance, Bucky pulls himself up a bit, sitting up and pressing his much larger hand against the bullet hole on the front while you fuss with the exit wound in the back.

“W-We need to s-stitch you up.” You cry, voice low and controlled despite the sobs still ripping through your throat.

Without hesitation you reach down and tear away at your dress reducing its length even further, now just barely reaching your hips. You wrap it around the wound as best you can, slapping Bucky’s hand away to shove more fabric over it and then place his hand back over the spot.

“I’m alright, kitten.” Bucky tells you, voice strong and certain.

“Like fuck-all you are.” You sob, fisting the front of his shirt as you refuse to look back to where you can still hear the chopper’s sounds, fading. “H-He shot you.”

Bucky strokes the side of your face with his metal hand, directing your gaze up so that you can look at him.

As you meet his steel and ice eyes, full of warmth and reassurance, you fall to pieces as you realize that Ryan has betrayed you. All your suspicions, as unlikely as you’d thought them, were true.

Bucky metal arm pulls you closer, his lips pressed to your crown as you sob against his chest, knowing now that you will never leave this place. You and Bucky will live and die on this island and no one will ever know you were here.