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oftenwantedafton · 3 months

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Secret Smile - College English Professor/Vampire Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 5

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - sexual content

Also available at AO3

Your Art Appreciation class has a field trip to a museum in the city that’s an hour away.

The bus waits for departure in the parking lot outside the brick building you have the class in late afternoon. It’s a bright yellow specimen with seats the color and texture of an avacado skin that you’re jostled against every time the driver finds a pot hole or other break in the pavement. At least you have a seat all by yourself. The sun sets by the time you reach your destination. The instructor—a middle aged woman fond of bright colors and what you suppose could be considered hippie kind of attire—informs the class that they may wander the building as they like. You’re to pick one piece of art to write about, due the following class a week from today.

You disperse from the group and enter the first wing. Contemporary Art. There’s a broad variety here. Lots of works created in three dimensions. Abstract shapes. Bold colors. Contrasting sharply with the next exhibit area, Art of Europe. Enormous framed paintings line the walls. You’re looking at the pastel textures on a canvas when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Monet. Impressionism.”

You turn in surprise to find Steve Raglan standing behind you. V neck sweater, dark jeans, blazer. No glasses tonight.

“What are you doing here?” You resist the urge to throw your arms around him. No alluring scent at the moment, though you know that could change at any time.

“Heard mention of a field trip this evening. Thought I’d join in.”

“You like art?”

Your English professor nods. “Some art,” he corrects. “What do you think?” He nods towards the portrait of water lillies across from you.

“It looks so different in person. The scale. You just have no perception of it when it’s a photograph in a textbook.” You pause. “It’s weird to think you were around when all this was being created. I don’t even know what year you were born,” you say softly, aware of other visitors passing nearby.

“Hmm.” That hum you’ve come recognize which means he won’t be answering your indirect query. “Walk with me.”

You follow him through the room. Pausing here and there to admire a painting. Your eyes wander to his profile. Sometimes you find his eyes regarding you. A silent exchange. A promise for later.

The next room features Asian Art. Scrolls. Masks. Demons. Dragons. Buddhist statues. Swords. A Noh costume tucked safely behind glass. A tea set. Depictions of ancient battles. More peaceful landscapes featuring fields. Ocean waves. Steve’s knuckles graze yours. The room empties. “The ebb and flow of the tide. Restless desires.” His breath hot beside your cheek. A roaring sound in your ears. You can almost hear the sea crashing, accompanying the foamy crests depicted before you. You imagine the prow of Ahab’s ship. Choppy water. Pursuit. The book is nearly finished. Soon you’ll be starting a new assignment. You can smell the sea now. Buried in the shore, trapped in the atmosphere.

The scents and sounds dissipate. You’re no longer alone in the room, the vampire temporarily surrendering his sway. You blink several times. It’s like waking from a dream. You wonder how much of what you want is your own desire, and how much is driven by this supernatural creature’s prowess.

The Ancient Art gallery is next. A lot of pottery here. Figurines. Sculptures. Statues. Greece, Rome, Egypt. An Etruscan sarcophagus, the supine figures of a man and woman in a lover’s embrace sculpted on the lid. You find yourself drawn to the piece. Something about the intimacy shared across time. The romantic notion of being together in what they’d believed was eternity after this life.

“I have to write a paper on one of the pieces. I think I’m going to do this one.”

“What time do you have to be back to your bus?”

“Um, what time is it now?” Raglan holds up his wristwatch for you to read. “I’ve still got an hour.”

“Good. Come with me.” You’re once again following his lead. A marbled staircase. The building is nearly a work of art itself. To your left is a cordoned off area bearing a sign that says No Admittance. The guard on patrol frowns as if he’s trying to concentrate on hearing something, shaking his head and abandoning the vicinity.

You think back to the coffee shop that night when Steve had cleared out a lot of the customers. The way the Asian Art gallery room had emptied so suddenly. He’s doing it again. Exerting his influence. Exhibiting his power.

“Let’s go.” He lifts one of the heavy posts effortlessly and you tuck in against the wall. There’s a door nearby that you’re escorted to. Dimly illuminated inside the room, the sole light source from the skylight above. A sliver of moon. It smells like dust and linen and old books. Kind of like a library. The door closes and the vampire embraces you from behind.

“Little mouse, the restraint I’ve had to exercise. You’ve no idea.” He moves your hair aside and presses his lips to your neck. The unmarked side this time. One hand slides down the front of your shirt. The other wanders beneath the hem of it, stroking your abdomen. His touch has you aflame instantly. “What will you say about the art piece?”

“The intense intimacy of it. A private moment shared across the ages. A declaration. Defiance. Together even after death.”

“And how does that carving in volcanic stone compare to having eternity, warm and breathing, standing beside you?” You feel the points of his canine teeth teasing your throat. Not piercing the skin, just there, testing, tasting.

“It doesn’t. Are you going to drink from me tonight?”

“You’re so eager for it, little one. Maybe even more than I am.” Steve sighs against your unblemished skin. “I won’t mark you here. Somewhere else, perhaps…” He unfastens the button of your pants and unzips them, dipping his hands straight beneath the elastic border of your panties and sliding through your damp sex. “Where should I place our secret this time?”

Smoldering cinders. Perfumed lilac. Melting wax. Dried reeds. You’re released and pushed. A table at your back. The pale light from above spilling down over you. You’re lifted and placed on the wooden surface. Papers. Glass. Perhaps a restoration project for the museum. A coming attraction, giving way before this present one. You might have balked at this at one time; been worried about being discovered. But you know there’s something shielding you, some of his magic at work. Cloaking your intimacy. Keeping people away from this room. His body presses against yours, between your thighs. Your legs hold him there.

“I think you missed me,” you whisper against his cheek.

“I think you’re right.”

You can feel his clothed erection digging against your covered sex. “How did you even know I was in this class?”

“I’ve done my research.” You feel his lips curve in a smile against your throat. The marked side, now.

“Some people would call that stalking.” Your fingers weave through his hair.

“And what do you call it, little one?” His hips move forward, grinding his body against yours.

“Enthusiastic pursuit, maybe.” You’re once again reminded of your literary assignment. A feverish crusade that dismisses rational thought. Hunting for that impossible thing frustratingly just beyond reach. You gasp when the pressure against your rutting pussy hits just right.

“Now that I’ve caught you, what to do…” The vampire jerks aside the open collar of your shirt, his tongue dragging along your collarbone, his teeth scraping your shoulder. “Eros’ arrows striking true. Limbs loosened, mind feeble. Hesiod’s Theogony. Poetry on the origins and genealogies of the Greek gods. I have a copy. I’ll lend it to you.”

“Read it to me,” you insist. Your teeth pull on his bottom lip. “Bring me to your house and read it to me and fuck me in that dark room.”

A sharp hiss of surprise. You think he’s not accustomed to you being so direct. So vulgar. “Is that what you want, rabbit? You want me to take you home and mark you deep inside?”

“Yes…”

“Very well then. It seems this is merely a placeholder for later.” His fingers sink into your hair, wrenching your head back, his tongue licking a stripe along your throat. “I’ll wait until then to spill your blood. The intensity that newly hollowed womb of yours will feel, so shallowly lined at the start of your next cycle, trembling against me.” Another roll of hips. “They’ll do a headcount on the bus. Make sure you’re present and accounted for. Otherwise I’d drive you there directly. Wait for me in the parking lot. I’ll take you home. And then…”

His mouth on yours. Something falls from the table when he pushes against you. Teasing you both about the promise made for later. Silver moonlight on silvered hair. His face between your hands. His fingers refasten your pants. The touches gentle. Lingering. Another stroke across your abdomen before he pulls the hem down properly. Now smoothing the bra strap that’s fallen over your shoulder back in place. His arms wrap around you in a warm embrace.

“Steve,” you say against his chest.

“William,” he corrects you in a voice barely above a whisper. “My real name is William.”

You feel something lurch inside of you. He trusts you enough to tell you. It’s only fitting you should give yourself to him. Maybe that’s the reason behind it. One of them.

“William.”

A shuddering sigh. “I haven’t been called that in a long, long time.”

“How does it feel?”

“It feels…good. Everything with you feels good.” Another kiss. The hour is nearly up. Just enough time for you to emerge back into the forbidden hallway outside and leave the area you’ve trespassed into. You rejoin your fellow classmates outside. The ride back is slightly shorter now that the rush hour traffic has cleared. You linger in your car, waiting for the parking lot to empty. Now sliding back out to find your English professor’s vehicle nearby. His mouth is hungry on yours the instant you sit in the passenger seat.

“Seatbelt on,” he growls the reminder. The buckle clicks into place. Your hand rests on his thigh. A blur of colors outside the window, that strange sensation that things are being moved, distorted. Bent to the vampire’s whim. You’re already at his house. Up the stairs.

Inside of William’s bedroom.

***

The frenzy turns calmer once you’re lying nude in his bed.

He takes his time kissing you. Mouth slack and soft and unhurried. Pressed along your forehead and cheeks and jaw and ears before finding your lips. His book of Greek poetry resting open on the nightstand now. Your fingers lace together. You trace the calloused tips. “What were you before? Your job, I mean.”

“Engineer.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“What would you have guessed?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. Something with physical labor to account for the roughness but I can’t envision it.”

“Working man’s hands.”

“I like them.” Your bring his fingers to your lips and kiss them. “What else have you done?”

“I was a social worker. Briefly. That job never felt right. I was good at it, but…”

“What job did you like best so far?”

He smiles. “This one has been rapidly rising to the top of the list, as of late.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you tease.

He steals another kiss. “Are you ready for me, rabbit?”

You nod. Your heart is racing. William’s hand slides from your neck, passing between your breasts, slotting between your thighs. An appreciative hum at your wetness. “My little wonder…”

“William…” That shudder again. The sound of his real name uttered. A shared secret between you.

He moves over you. His body is now tangent to your own. A sharp line set against curves. Your legs part to make room for him. A little gasp at the feel of his cock swiping against the pink petals. Sliding through the center between the folds. His eyes locked with yours, watching your reaction. Blood engorged flesh beginning to violate you. Stretching, filling. The vampire’s eyes rolling back at the sensation. A little whimper escapes you. Pain lanced with pleasure as he invades your tunnel further. Muscles clenching.

The man’s lips by your ear now. “Let me in, sweet girl, let me have you.” A louder whine. He soothes you with gentle kisses along your jaw and neck. The scarred areas are throbbing. Your blood is calling to him. One final thrust to seat him fully inside you. Your pelvis involuntarily grinding down into the mattress as if trying to retreat but he wastes no time closing that shallow distance. There is no escape. The hunter has caught his prey. You’re his. Aether hovering over Aer. Upper atmosphere above the Earth. The scent of brine, sweet berries warmed by the sun, and newly tanned leather permeates the air.

William’s cock begins to pump in and out of your pussy. Your nails drive into his shoulders. He pushes your lifted thighs back further. Burying himself deeper. His weight leans into you. His lips find yours with every forward rocking motion. Your hand abandons his shoulder and cups his bearded cheek. A wet kiss on the inside of your wrist. Your pulse firing against his lips. A flash of white pointed teeth. Upper cuspids preparing to part the layers of skin to find the deeper, larger vessels within. The moan when his cock strikes your cervix. New sparks of pain followed by pleasure when the needle-like points find their target. Sucking. Your blood stains his lips, his beard. A trickle escapes and he’s quick to lap along the trail.

The feeding is over as quickly as it had begun. Controlled. Precise. His attention is focused back on the wet cavity he’s pummeling. Your sounds are needy. You want him to take more. You want to give everything to him. Your hips are lifting to meet his now in careless jerks. Wanton. Seeking rapture, still riding the waves of euphoria from the bloodletting.

William’s index and middle fingers press into your mouth. Sit in the shallow depression on the surface of your tongue. Roughs whorls of the tips against tastebuds. Salted. Metallic. Bloodstained from where he’d clutched your arm. Tasting the musk of your arousal when he’d dipped into it earlier. Abruptly withdrawn and his mouth is back on yours. Rough. Teeth nipping. His cock pistoning faster. It’s like being in his car. The dizzying rush of speed. Blurring colors. Momentum the human mind can’t comprehend. A mortal given witness to this. This otherworldly creature. You shatter around him. Fingers carding through his hair. Desperately clinging. His mouth in the space where your neck meets your shoulder. A raw sound tearing itself free. You feel the hot liquid spurting inside you. Marking you as his own.

Later. You're tucked beside him. He’s reading to you. His unoccupied hand stroking through your hair. Eros and Psyche. Caught in his own trap, a victim of his own machinations. Doomed to love. The passage concludes. He closes the cover.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #dividers credit @saradika-graphics

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blueathens · 9 months

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Once Upon A Time - Chapter One

Summary: Charles was never allowed to leave the castle, until one day he, and his best friend Pierre, decided to break the rule and leave the castle walls, only to bump into the well-known criminal, Robin Hood, who doesn’t see them in the same golden light that they were raised within. But Charles decides to ignore her hatred and becomes the bane of her existence.

Song: Whistle Shop by Roger Miller Quote: ‘You’re invited to The Royal Leclerc’s Masquerade Ball.’ Word Count: 9819

TW: A direct narrator (only at times, then switches to third person - give the feel of a book being read to you like someone usual did for us when we were children), mention of death, mention of murder,

A/N: Not proof-read or edited. A/N 2: Taglist and detailed references found in reblog!

Masterlist//Main Masterlist

ACT ONE, CHAPTER ONE

(Ah, where to begin? How about once upon a time…

…How many times have you heard that to begin a story? Let’s do something else.

In a far-off land, where – what? That’s been done too? In fairy tales? Ha, no, this story is far from a fairy tale, in fact it isn’t even one. Nor is it a legend or a myth, or even a bedtime story that you were grown and raised on as a child, this isn’t a story that you’ll know line by line, and this is not something that will be turned into a film or tv show.

No.

This is simply life.

With our Planet Earth that holds vast oceans, forests, and lands such as England, Greece, Monaco, Zosnurg and – you’re kidding…you don’t have a country called Zosnurg on your version of Earth?

What about pirates? Mermaids? Sirens? Dragons? Fairies? Krakens? Vampire Mermaids? Chimeras?

…None?

So, this would be like one of your stupid fantasy books then? Okay…well, let’s just get some things straight then before we start this boo – these lives that I’ll be talking about.

(Which I suppose in some way is a story if I’m talking abo– I, as a narrator, will stop talking now…)

(I do apologise)

Rule One.

This is not a fairy tale.

Yes, we have witches and princes’, and balls, and enchanted forests, and adult-eating witches, and even the children-eating witches too, mermaids of all forms, dragons, chimeras, and even werewolves and lycans, pukwudgie, and dryads.

And yes there is a yucky love story.

And yes there are sword fights, and war, and love and hatred, and death and –

Alright, I know this may sound like a ‘fairy-tale’ but isn’t everything a fairy tale? You have two love interests who have to go through a lot to be together? Sounds kind of like one to me…Only difference is that we don’t need to battle a dragon, well talking to my mother sometimes feels like I’m battling a–

Anyways, life is a fairy tale, a rubbish one, but a fairy tale, nevertheless.

But this isn’t the typical annoying fairy tale where the knight in shining armour goes and rescues the princess from her tower and shares a true loves kiss once the dragon is slayed.

No, that’s just fucking lame.

Instead the prince befriends a dragon, and he doesn’t save a princess, there are no princesses, well there are, but they aren’t important, this isn’t about them.

This is about the prince and the criminal and – what on earth are you talking about? You’ve seen fairy tales like this before? Get lost.

I told you once, and I’ll tell you again, this isn’t a fairy tale – this is real, not make belief, but real.

This isn’t so called Aladdin or Rapunzel – I mean Tangled – this is real life.

This isn’t a fairy tale.

In fairy tales life is presented as blissful and magical and makes you want to gouge your eyes out because you know you can never live a life where birds will get you ready for the day. Whilst in other fairy tales you feel like you are on the spinning teacups, and nausea creeps up on you from what you’re experiencing.

(Cause I’ll come clean now, I’ve never had any of my grandmothers be swallowed up by a wolf or ever seen a man become blinded by brambles).

No, these lives I’ll be telling you about will either leave you crying or smiling or perhaps even laughing – but most likely you’ll be crying, cursing my name for ever telling you about these people.

I am not sorry.

But just a pre warning – this is not a fairy tale.

Rule Two.

Don’t worry, you won’t have to hear my lovely narration voice all the time, I chose not to.

(I don’t get paid enough for that).

But when I do decide to talk with you I will do so in italics and in brackets (as so illustrated) – I have a few notes about these people for example how bloody stupid our main female character is and –

Rule Three.

We do not, and I mean, do not break out into a musical number, we don’t do that here. Absolutely not. And no singing birds are going to help get anyone dressed either or clean their house – they aren’t lazy – life doesn’t allow anyone to be this lazy.

There are no such things as true loves kiss – a little kiss is not bringing anyone to life – unless magic is involved of course, but that’s an entirely different story.

There is no happy endings too, that doesn’t exist, never has, never will, people will die, we will cry, but then we’ll move on and carry them with us.

Even she will di–

Rule Four.

No spoilers.

(Now, that’s all the rules I can read in my messy handwriting across this coffee-stained napkin that obviously didn’t contain the pretty barista’s number.

…

There was no pretty barista

It was just Sue, the sixty-old woman who knows my order off by heart, but claims to dislike me – however, she did smile at me earlier after I spilt coffee all over myself, so guess she doesn’t hate me…)

Oh and –

Rule Five.

This is not a fairy tale.)

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

This is the story about a girl named Y/n and it starts with the sun.

Most are unaware how the once worshipped as a god by various of religions and cults ever came around, and just like the star that’ll burn the believers who venture too close, no one could remember how their King became King and when the Queen fell pregnant three times, gifting their world with three beautiful boys.

The first passed the crown down, the third shall remain a prince, and the second is deemed to be king one day.

To the world, this families beginnings felt like a fever dream – a gorgeous one though, and most carried such a strong love for them, but not all, some carried a strong hatred for them and had been wanting a revolution for ages.

A passerby once told his children, after a trip to Eynsworth one spring, that he never had much thought of their sun being a star, he knew it was, but he never felt like it was. Not until he, after meeting the royal family, had the pleasure in holding their second born, a few months after his birth, and my, the passerby never felt so close to the sun, nor did he fear being burnt. In his hands he was holding something golden; something godly. Just like the sun. But it wasn’t the sun, no, it was a gift from the golden beams above them, he was a star. He was their new star, their sun.

On the 16th of October a son was born. A prince. And he was given the name Charles.

Their future king.

Our star, our sun.

It was hard not to love the prince who found himself trapped within castle walls, barely venturing out into the world, but when he does he’s constantly close to his father as they enter new lands (for him at least) where all hand his gifts to his knights – his protectors – with flowers and gifts. Only soft smiles were what he was allowed to retrieve, no other gifts of any sorts should be handed to him directly.

(There were many soft smiles which later turns into flirty looks from those his age as he grew up).

Along with growing older, where falling in love was more on someone’s mind, Charles never become blind in seeing how his best friend and his first knight-in-training, Pierre Gasly, wasn’t shy of the extra attention that was given when Charles was allowed to see the world outside the castle walls. Little winks thrown around and bright smiles whilst the prince watched in disgust before taking a strong interest in the world around him, watching how the clouds glided through the sky, forming different works of arts for all to enjoy, and how the branches of the trees waved them off for their travels, knowing the next time they are seen a new image will be formed, quite possibly a picture of what they saw on their travels.

(All in all, one person stayed on his mind, the one he meets growing up, the other main character of our stor–of these lives).

Once, at the age of seven, he saw the sea for the first time, and he wondered what it would be like to feel the salty air tickling his skin, embracing him in a warm hug where his cologne is replaced with the smell of the sea. He even wondered what life as a fish would be like, swimming endlessly through the waves as it dodged every obstacle in their way. He wondered if they felt lonely down there just as he does within the palace walls, hoping for a struck of bravery to hit him to just leave and see the world for a moment, even just for a second, just to go on an adventure without anything bothering him.

He wondered if the sea felt grateful to be holding such beauty in their arms, cradling it, kissing it, and bringing it deeper into their warmth, with some even grazing the sandy fingers of Poseidon. He imagines that the graze occasionally turns into a handshake, welcoming those to a new view, begging them to lie down in the pit of darkness to try and spot a single beam of light – they never do, they’re in too deep.

Charles questioned his breathing ability, the young boy would hold competitions in the pool at home where he timed himself on how long he could hold his breathe as he sits on the bottom, he thinks maybe one day he could be like those aquatic animals that reach the bottom to shake Poseidon’s fingers. Poseidon’s ‘spot the sun’ game would eventually become to easy then, as the sun would be in his grasp, smiling brightly at him as he whispers, “I did it.” And all Poseidon would do is nod as he looks at the boy’s eyes that (of right now) resembles the colour of the sea on postcards that grandparents send to their grandchildren.

The sun child even wondered if the sun felt any different if he was elsewhere, maybe it feels warmer if he was in a place he loves instead in one of the many gardens of his castle or the small amount of times he’s with his father in a different country doing something of work – which his father calls father and son bonding.

Maybe his skin becomes painted in various shades of gold, letting him stand with a cheery smile whilst looking like a lost jewel in a faraway land. Where he watches the clouds shift and change like a person’s mood and observes the sky’s colour platter shattering from the phenomenon of the sun setting.

The Prince of England, Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc of many of the Grandale Islands (a group of various places, islands, and countries that the family have ownership over. One of the most recent ones that the Leclerc’s took ownership of was when Charles was just five years old, after a neighbouring (and independent) country (Zosnurg) became littered with destruction, gore, and weapons as England battled them for land. (Charles’ second home country, despite being born in Monaco, his father decided to move the family to England after the birth of his last son) The air of Zosnurg was filled with numerous of smokes that contributed to the deaths of many on the battlefields. An army of rebels and an army of warriors would once constantly fight each other to the death for the land that both kings desired. It was unclear of what side would win; it formed a tiresome fear for those nearby as they dreaded to think of the war becoming never-ending. The fighters were grimed with pain, exhaustion, and their spirits were broken. The war was soon ended by King Raphaël (the father of the Leclerc’s) killing the King of Zosnurg with his sword.)

Charles recalls growing up with some of the kind souls around the castle, watching with a frown as the lower statuses had to clean the mess up, rebuild the economy that was destroyed by the war with the rich bossing them around. He remembers watching them nearly everyday from his bedroom window, or from the carriage as they rode through the towns like Aramore (a poor town that was mainly affected by the war as it was often targeted with bombs for a few months). Most of England was left undamaged though, only a small percentage of the country was damaged, it was Zosnurg that carried most of the destruction and those of Zosnurg had to rebuild their country like the first citizens of their country once did.

It was the Leclerc’s property now.

He wasn’t allowed to do anything about the mess, nor ask to help, or even ask his family about it. All he got told was it was not his business yet and that he was far too young to worry about such a thing.

So, growing up, trapped in the castle, and venturing out as little as possible, he watched as far as he could see get rebuilt, and become better than it once was. Soon, he was allowed out, it was about a year later, his godfather – his older brother’s best friend – Eric Russo– was given the permission to take him out karting in their city, Eynsworth. He grew to love the sport, later watching Eric, from the TV, travel the world to race.

Along with karting, the prince took up other activities to keep him occupied within the castle walls, even going as far as painting, but was quick to discover that was not his forte.

Charles was ten years old though when he first heard of a person who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. And it was a month after the discovery that he learnt how much his father hated this mysterious figure who’s blacked out silhouette littered the tea-stained wanted posters that was flown to country-to-country, hanging round in various places.

Wanted for £3000. Alive. Name: Robin Hood

That was the name the whispers would call them after the fourth robbery. It was a cool spring evening, and the robbery affected a close family friend, Mr Clive. They took anything that was valuable, and when discovered that there was a robbery, the bells of the townhall began to ring, people of Eynsworth then began to venture out and onto the streets in the early morning, sleeping dust prickling their eyes as they stood in the breeze. They were all dressed in their pyjamas as they watched Mr Clive – the man who was robbed – walk around in nothing but boxers as he stormed right towards the castle with his very young-looking wife begging him to do this at a better time.

No, the only good time was of right now. He demanded for the thief to be found, and the King agreed as he stares at the barely dressed man in the front gardens of his home from Arthur’s (his youngest son) bedroom window.

The following week new wanted posters were being sent out.

Wanted for £10,000. Alive. Name: Robin Hood. Presumed Description: Professional man around the age of twenty to thirty, who’s a skilled thief, fighter, and archer.

The days after Mr Clive’s robbery, many more got robbed, some even finding arrows outside their houses or even watched how the thief dodged the thrown slippers, wooden spoons, chairs and even vases sent their way.

Many questioned on the presumed age of this criminal, but they never thought on the matter long as they presumed that due to everything happening so quickly they couldn’t quite judge on how old this criminal may be.

However, at first thought they believed the criminal was too small to be of around presumed age, but as mentioned before, they never allow themselves to dwell on the matter long enough.

The week after new wanted posters were sent out along with a new wanted poster for Robin Hood’s partner.

Wanted for £30,000. Alive. Name: Robin Hood. Presumed Description: Professional man around the age of twenty to thirty, who’s a skilled thief, fighter, and archer.

Wanted for £5,000. Alive. Name: Little John. Presumed Description: Professional man around the age of twenty to thirty, who’s a skilled thief and partner of the notorious Robin Hood.

It was discovered that the archer was partnered with someone after Mr Clive got robbed once more. After falling down his stairs, hurrying down to capture the intruders with a broken torch in his hand, he watched the moment he swung his front door open with a throbbing head, as the pair, already at such a great distance, carried sacks of money over their shoulders, laughing with their heads thrown back as they pushed the other around.

On his 13th birthday, the discovery of Robin Hood and Little John being children were uncovered. No one was quite sure who leaked this piece of information, some say that someone accidently let it slip, some even mentioned that perhaps the duo robbed them and then they caught sight of how young they looked, some even suggested that maybe the duo wronged the anonymous person and they wanted to get their revenge.

Charles believes none of the suggestion were the correct reasons.

Robin was 12, nearly 13, (an age that was incredibly shocking and was being slowly processed by the world) and Little John was just 15.

And once again, prices were raised.

“Your dad should hire them to be one of his knights,” Pierre suggested one night in Charles racing themed bedroom, all of his brothers, Pierre and Eric being locked in there whilst a meeting was being held right outside about Robin Hood and Little John after they easily battled and escaped the King’s best men – no injuries were occurred, nothing but bruised egos and dignities.

Lorenzo, Charles’ older brother, scoffs whilst Eric shook his head in disagreement. “Why would someone who sounds like they hate the rich, join them?”

“People change,” the young French boy tries to argue. “Right amount of money and he could be running to Raphaël’s side.”

“The price over their head is a lot already. I don’t think they–”

“He?” Charles arched a brow as he looked over at Pierre, who sat on his bed whilst Charles sat on the windowsill to watch the chaos below him. “What do you mean he? I don’t think it’s a he by how people talk of their movements.”

“It’s a kid our age, Charles, they’ve been doing this for years, they aren’t going to be noisy.”

“Still don’t think it’s a he though. Doesn’t make sense – maybe Little John is, but Robin Hood can’t be.”

“What are you–”

“I think Charles is right…” Arthur looked up from the game device he was playing on, handed by Lorenzo to keep the 11-year-old entertained. “I heard whispers that it is a she.”

“You went out?” Lorenzo’s firm voice came, laced with concern. “You’re not supposed to–”

“No way,” whistled Pierre. “Impossible.”

“Cool.” Charles nodded. “Maybe she can give you all a tip or two on how to fight, shoot an arrow and not be as noisy as a Heffalump.” He teased as he looked at Eric, Lorenzo, and Pierre as he mentioned the skills they’ve been lacking most in.

“Mate do not relate me to those things in the forest,” Pierre groaned. “They’re not cool.”

“How are purple elephants not cool?” Arthur piped in, furrowed brows as he stared down the older boy.

“Are you trying to say you are cool?” Eric smirked as he folded his arms.

Heffalumps are said to be dangerous creatures, but Lorenzo had told Charles about the whispers among the caring citizens (the poor who lived in their lack of riches town; Aramore) that those hunter’s stories are all false, that these creatures were actually rather friendly, and they are cruel to the hunters as they are the ones trying to kill them.

He even told Charles the story of how he even was lucky enough to meet and touch a Heffalump with these three children of Aramore that was around Charles’ age. It was a few years ago, but it was a memory Lorenzo would carry forever as for once he wasn’t treated as a prince, or a knight in training, he was just treated as himself, as Lorenzo.

He felt free.

Charles and Arthur envied him for it, envied how he was allowed to go out and do what he wishes whilst they befriended the paintings on the walls.

Charles looked away from the group and turned to look back out the window only to find a butterfly pressed against his window, his vibrant coloured wings not at show, and Charles begin to hate the insect he was staring at.

Hated how it was allowed to sore the grey skies, hated how it was allowed to taste the sweet nectar of the plants around and he wondered if he would ever be deemed lucky enough to taste something as lovely as that. He wondered if he was beautiful like a butterfly, if someone looked at him like Aphrodite herself, and be able to memorise every part of him with their eyes closed.

Charles doesn’t think he’ll ever be that lucky, so he left himself wondering if a butterfly knew everything about flowers, wondered if they knew which one had the sweetest nectar, and which ones to stay away from, he wondered if they ever felt safe in those cocoons they break out of after the transmission from a caterpillar to a butterfly was complete – he wondered if they felt that change, if they realised they were now a beautiful and elegant insect that everyone admired from afar but were too scared that a simple touch would shatter them.

It was a month after his birthday that two faces were placed onto the wanted posters after they attempt to rob from Eynsworth Castle. Failing to do so due to the amount of protection these places were gaining over the years, his home being the most. A knight caught them, and after a difficult battle that ended with an arrow in the Knight’s thigh, he was able to give the King and Queen a detailed description on their Robin Hood and Little John.

No name was given, and no name was being found out any time soon. But his parents and those of riches were ecstatic with this newfound information.

Wanted for £50,000. Dead or Alive. Name: Robin Hood. Age: 12 approx. Gender: Female

Above the silhouette changed to a drawn picture of the girl and the presumed personal description was ripped out and in came her age and gender. And after the attempted Eynsworth Castle robbery, King Raphaël and Queen Anna agreed that they didn’t not care how this archer was handed in.

Death may even be better as there was no way she would be able to escape.

Wanted for £10,000. Alive. Name: Little John. Age: 15 approx. Gender: Male

And just like Hood’s, his silhouette was changed to a drawn image of him.

Everyone was still in shock about the age, but now their shock grew at the thought that it was a female who was causing them so many problems for so many years. Charles and Arthur were the only ones who weren’t shocked as they collected their packets of chocolate buttons from those around the castle who all disagreed with the idea of Robin Hood being a female.

“It’s not really criminal though, is it?” Pierre asked as he, Eric, Lorenzo, Arthur, and Charles laid on the grass in one of the many gardens of the castle. “It’s more deviant, no?”

“I wouldn’t say it such a bad thing,” Lorenzo muttered, arms under his head as his eyes stayed on the stars above them.

“How bad is it out there? For the poor?” Charles asked curiously, never truly knowing how bad it was for them, only seeing small sights of it when he did go near those areas.

“They have it bad,” Arthur muttered, eyes closed as he too rested his folded arms behind his head. He could feel Lorenzo’s eyes burning into the side of his head at the mention of his little trips outside the castle walls without anyone. “It’s like dad forgets they exist and just shoves them to the side.” He shifts to French casually as his mind thought on the way they live.

“Oh,” he nibbles on his bottom lip as his eyes counted the stars.

He loves the stars, truly does, he wishes he could join them for a moment and just sparkle and dance up there as they guide people home, forming little imagery onto the sky too. He wouldn’t want to stay forever, would find it too boring, but he’ll like to know what being a star was like.

He even wanted to know how to find these constellations, he reads books and searches the web for tips on how to spot them, but still, as night passes he still finds himself struggling to even find the beginning of one.

“When I’m King I wouldn’t push them to the side…we’ll be equals.”

“Cute vision,” Eric utters in French. “But that isn’t as easy as you make it out to be.”

The boys laid in silence as they watched different things. Like for Arthur he was seeing those weird dots you see when your eyes are shut. For Lorenzo, he was still admiring the stars along with Charles. For Eric, he was watching the trees wave in the gentle breeze. And Pierre was sat up, knees brought to his chest as he pulled out strands of grass and twisted them around his fingers to act as a ring.

“She’s quite pretty, no?” Pierre whispered in French, loud enough for them to hear, but they knew the question was more aimed towards his best friend than any of the others.

“Who?” Charles asks, responding back in the same language, oblivious to what Pierre was getting at as he connected the dots his own way to form a future for himself.

“This ‘Robin Hood’ girl.”

“Does it matter?” Pierre sighed as he looked up from the strand of grass, only to stare at his friend’s side profile as he babbled on in French and avoided a simple question. “I’d prefer if she’s a good person than if she looks nice.”

“But she’s pretty, no?” Pierre arches a brow, corner of his lip pointing up into a smirk as he hears his friend sigh and close his eyes.

“Oui.”

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

Present Day – February.

Leather boots walked among the cobblestones, dressed in a cream shirt, dark trousers, and a navy hooded jacket, with the hood over their heads, the two now fourteen-year-olds moved beneath the ever-blue sky with lacy, white-edged clouds that formed a perfect line-up in the blue, as if they were boats safely moored in a celestial harbour, with the singing birds soaring above as they acted as the fishes of the skies.

Across the cobbled streets, critters ran across, dodging the horses trotting down, nodding their heads side-to-side. One of the fourteen-year-olds had to resist the urge to stroke the horses’ head, as they didn’t know what would happen if they were caught outside the castle.

The two made their way towards a concluded alleyway and as they grew closer to the towering brick wall at the end, they decided they would climb over it once they reached that issue. The taller one of the pair, kneeled down first, linking his hands together as it hovered over his propped up knee, the other placed their foot on the other hands, feeling them boost them up for them to be able to grab ahold of the top edge of the wall, their hand brushed against a tea-stained paper hanging on the wall, but before it could move up any further, an arrow whistled past them, skidding the side of the shorter one’s fingers as it hit and wobbled in the poster beside him.

The action made the pair pause, the kneeled down one looked up whilst the other looked over his shoulder to try and find the one who shot the arrow. The taller one let the shorter one down before he takes a watchful step in front of him as they watched the alleyway’s self-crafted shadows in front of them carefully.

Approaching out the shadows was a slightly shorter, and hooded figure, the bow in their hand was still raised whilst the other was over their shoulders, plucking out another arrow from their brown quiver. They stepped into the light more as they nocked their arrow, drawing the string back as they made the pair their target. The archer was dressed in a dark forest green cape with black cargo trousers and ruined boots. Their clothes were already covered in mud, and they watched as the figure instructed with their head for the two to lower their hoods and raise their arms.

“Money, now.” The hooded figure demanded.

“You can shove that arrow right up where–”

“That’s not very princey of you,” they smirk under their hood. “Did the King never tell you how dangerous it was out here?”

“Princey isn’t even a word,” the tallest of the pair folded their arms, muttering.

“Money, now.” They released the arrow; it skimmed past and shot threw the first arrow they released.

One of the two threw a small satchel of coins and the hooded figure just sighed as they placed their bow over their head, nestling it at a safe angle across her back.

“You’re Robin Hood.” The Prince breathlessly says as he watches her pick up the small satchel of coins.

She hums, bowing down dramatically as she grins up at the pair. “It is I,” she then raises from her bowing position and places a hand on her chest as she takes a step closer to the two. “And you two are Prince Charles Leclerc and his…Pierre Gasly?” The figure now stands a few feet away from them now, pushing down her hood for the pair of them to look at her. “Shouldn’t you two be…I don’t know…anywhere but here?”

Pierre mouth fell agape at the sight of her.

“You must know,” she continues, “we don’t like your type very much?”

“And what is our type?” Charles arches a brow, arms mimicking his best friends as he folds them across his chest.

“Rich pricks,” she offers them a fake smile, as she rounds them, ripping the poster off from her arrows as she inspects it, the two boys didn’t dare to make a run for it. They knew the stories already, even if they ran she would still catch up with them.

Her brows raise. “Still just £50,000? Is that all I’m worth to you guys,” the corner of her lips quirk up. “Suppose I should do something soon to make that go higher, ay?” The pair stayed silent as she span on her heel and moved closer to the wall to take down the other poster from the wall.

Their eyes were on her back as she looks down at both posters, they hear an airy laugh leave her lips.

She now turns back to face the two as she presented the two posters to them, as if it was the first time they ever saw them. “At least they can get my nose right,” she comments as she peers over at the other wanted poster. “Unlike Danny’s.”

“You just–”

“Told you Little John’s name?” She looks up, a smirk still playing at her lips. “Thought our little rat told the royals that already?” They shook their heads as she hummed in surprise. “Well, it be rude to not introduce ourselves, no? Considering we’ll be the ones who will take down your type of people.” She scrunches the posters up in her hands before stuffing it into her trousers pocket, she then holds out her hands for the pair to shake. “I’m Y/n – Y/n L/n, and my mate is Daniel Ricciardo.” She awaits for them to shake her hand, but their pair just stays staring at. “Suppose you don’t shake a peasant hand,” she puts her hand down, “proves to show why we don’t respect you.” She spat out before shrugging her shoulders as she too mimicked the way their arms were crossed against their chest. “Do what you wish with our names, no doubt that little mole be telling that King sooner or later.”

“You’ve got quite the reputation.” Pierre couldn’t help but say.

“Reputation?” She tilts her head, smirk still playing at her lips, they thought it was painted on as not once have they ever seen it fall, except the small falter of it when neither of them shook her hand. “I have a reputation?”

“Yeah, the steal from the rich and give to the poor reputation.”

She lets out another airy laugh.

“I’m just doing what the King can’t do.” Y/n half-shrugs as she pulls her hood back on. “We aren’t lucky like you, Princey.” Her eyes shifts to just focus on Charles.

“It’s still not a word,” Pierre comments next to Charles.

“Still don’t care,” she rubbed her dirty hand down her face. “We don’t have people running us a bath and we don’t have someone baking my bread, but at least I know that I earned that bread; and my god do I deserve it.”

“They say you’re a common theft.”

“Can’t be common with that price over my head.” She teased, sniffling her nose slightly as she looked around before looking at Charles again, the one who was mainly speaking to her now.

She noticed how clean the pair looked and how well put together they were. They didn’t look as slim as she did as they were able to get the food they needed. Their hairs were slightly longer than she expected it to truly be, she thought their highly paid hairdressers would be there giving them a nicer cut, but instead they looked like two teens who were just experiencing different styles for their hair.

The thirteen-year-old girl looked at the two fourteen-year-olds curiously, examining every difference they had over her. They held themselves tall, but their eyes held a sense of disorientation in them, it was like they were a lost puppy, not knowing what to do or where to go.

“Do you think I’m a criminal?” She questioned. “It wouldn’t matter if you do. We’re not going be friends,” she rambles. “Just curious to know how you see u–”

“No.” Charles answered over her short rambling, and she stopped and looked over at them. “I don’t think you’re a criminal for trying to keep everyone alive.”

Y/n titled her head to the side.

“You don’t know what it’s like do you?” She asked quietly, and for once in their meeting she wasn’t carrying that smirk. “You really don’t know how bad it is, do you?”

They just shook their heads.

“It’s best you don’t,” she cleared her throat. “Don’t need to save anymore of you guys.”

Pierre raises a brow. “Who have you saved?”

“Eric and Lorenzo,” she purses her lips, “more times than I can count on one hand.”

“My younger brother, Arthur,” Charles begins, “he hasn’t been around here, has he?”

“Why? Scared we’ll do something?” She rolls her eyes. “I haven’t seen him, but I hear he’s with Wyatt and Lando a lot.”

“Who are they exactly?”

“Good kids that you won’t ever go near,” she narrows her eyes at them. “In fact, it be best if the pair of you leave Aramore and don’t come back. Tell those three that too. Stick to your little rich friends and the things you know, alright? And I’ll go home and tell my folks that I hit the jackpot, that I robbed the Prince and his knight in training.” She takes one more step closer to them. “If this was a story, I’ll die in the end. You know, with being wanted and all. They know enough and I’m surprised they haven’t caught me at least once yet.” Y/n shook her head as she walks past the pair. “Go back to your little castle.”

“Huh,” Pierre unfolds his arms. “She really don’t like us.”

Charles shakes his head, “but perhaps we can change her mind.” He states as he too puts his hood back on, Pierre copying before they walk out of the alleyway. Despite her leaving mere seconds before them, she was nowhere in sight when they exited the one-way alleyway.

“Get your Daily News right here!” A voice yelled as he held a stack of newspapers whilst the boy next to him waved one in the air, holding his cap out for change to fall into. “Get your Daily–”

Charles hits Pierre in the arm, nodding his head towards the two, what he presumes, are twelve-year-olds. They swiftly make their way towards them, standing in front of them as Charles places two coins into their cap.

“Bonjour,” Pierre greets with a smile as he takes down his hood, watching as the boys faces drop at the sight of his hood falling, their eyes then switch to Charles, who also pushed down his hood. “We’ll like a paper, s’il te plait.”

The boys looked between one another in confusion before they handed the dark-haired boy a paper.

“Not to be rude but what you doing here?” One of the British boys asked as the other elbowed his side.

“Lando!” He whispered loudly.

“Wyatt – they shouldn’t be here. What if Y/n and Daniel–”

Pierre and Charles looks at one another at the mention of the boys names. These must be the ones that Arthur sneaks out to hang out with.

“Oh,” Pierre smiles, “we’ve met that Robin Hood friend of yours. Robbed us and everything.”

Wyatt looks into his hat with a frown, “clearly not well enough.”

Charles tucks the paper under his left arm.

Lando carefully looks around to see if anyone else has noticed the Prince and his Knight in training with them, he then leans forwards slightly to speak with them quietly. “Aramore doesn’t like your family very much, your highness,” Lando quips.

“But our Robin Hood and Little John have always held the highest of hatred for those in Eynsworth and spits at the names of the Leclerc’s who has wrong us all,” Wyatt continued off from Lando.

“My father is a good man,” Charles tries to convince the boy, perhaps even try and convince himself, but the two Aramore boys just shakes their heads with laughter.

“Suppose she is right after all. All you rich folks are as stupid as it comes.” Charles and Pierre share a look.

“But you met her?” Lando speaks up again. “Like you actually met her?”

They both nod.

“And she didn’t knock either of you out?” He watched the pair freeze. “Oh,” Lando pauses, “I only asked because of how much she hates your – your type. But Y/n isn’t a bad person. Sure, she’s made mistakes – but she’s a good person.”

“Thought you be more careful with sharing other’s names like that.”

Wyatt shrugs at Charles’ pointed look. “Don’t need to when the whole city now knows it,” he nods his head to the newspaper under Charles’ arms. “It’s the headline today – Y/n L/n and Daniel Riccardo are the Robin Hood and Little John. The King doesn’t want this shared with the whole world yet though, perhaps that’s the smartest thing he’s ever asked.”

“So the mole has already told my father?”

Wyatt only shrugs.

“You two should really leave though,” Lando stutters out slightly. “Aramore won’t be safe for either of you and when night comes it will only become even more dangerous.”

“It is a full moon,” Wyatt smiles and now Lando elbows his side.

“Dude!”

“What?!”

“You saying that werewolves be out tonight?” Pierre laughs slightly. “Ah, werewolves don’t exist.”

Lando and Wyatt share a look.

“Just,” Lando starts again, “just return to your castle, your highnesses’.”

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

(As long as anyone could remember, it has always been the Leclerc’s throning their land, but it is to be known that they aren’t all as bad as Raphaël and Anna, in fact, they are the only two that anyone could remember being so terrible. His father was a good man – a good King who died far too soon, and then there was Raphaël’s older brother, but no one can remember what happened to him, one moment he was there preparing to be King himself, and the next thing they heard was that he left and wouldn’t be returning and that Raphaël shall be King instead.

Many things crumbled when Raphaël become King, our Robin Hood was about two years old when life become worst, never seeing what life was like before, only knew them from the stories others would tell her, and those stories sketched the idea of revolution into her brain, one could argue that it’s always been in her blood and all she needed was a single lit match to guide her to see it.

So, for as long as she could remember, she always had a desire for revolution, to overthrow Raphaël Leclerc in any way possible and bring back the life that only her ears were ever blessed with hearing. Bring back the world where one shouldn’t be afraid that in a matter of a second they could be stabbed, or questioning if that snap of a twig was a person following them instead of an innocent deer, and even bring back the world where everyone isn’t just waiting for another war too happen.

She wants to bring back the world where others were seen more as equals, the world where the poor was being helped and weren’t clinging onto their last seconds of life, and the world where the rich weren’t so greedy and treacherous and kissed the ground for a man who usurped the crown.

Robin Hood was the people’s only hope. She robbed from the rich to feed the poor. She was beloved by all people from England, and by the age of twelve, she was known and loved in other countries. Robin and her best mate Little John – also known as Y/n L/n and Daniel Ricciardo – are found hidden in Aramore, one of England’s poorest town’s.

King Raphaël has heard rumours on this information, but it is yet to be confirmed to the rich if it she truly awaits in Aramore.

You know, there’s been a heap of legends and tall tales about our Robin Hood. All different too. Well, fellow readers, here is the true version).

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

“This is the story of how I died.”

“Y/n!” Daniel shoved the younger girl’s shoulder who was left chuckling at the frozen states of youngster’s with their mouths wide open.

“How can you be dead?” One questioned, tilting their head. “You look alive.”

“Because she is.” Daniel gave a short glare to his best friend before turning his head to beam at the kids. “She just messing with you,” he elbows her side. “Jokester this one.” The children looked between the two. “Now, Y/n, tell the real story.”

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes, “this one is more boring though – Once Upon A Time…”

(Y/n L/n and Daniel Ricciardo weren’t originally from Eynsworth, instead they were from a town called Neverland – which was a small island in the region of the Harsano Islands. They were both raised in an orphanage that was ran by some very cruel people. They all evacuated though when their country got overtaken by Raphaël.

They all escaped to England; Y/n was just nine).

The Orphanage – The Lost Boys – were a worldly known orphanage that many thought to be a good, well-run place, instead, for the children that lived there, it was like a game of survival. Y/n L/n and Daniel Ricciardo were always trouble, even back then, both being secretly taught how to survive by a woman who was only meant to teach them English, but instead she was their mentor for fighting, how to use a bow and arrow, and basic survival skills.

It happened away from eyes that would hurt them terribly if they ever discovered the truth, whether that was children that will tell on them or if it was Peter Pan and Cruella De Vil themselves catching sight of this little self-made club.

Growing up, they were taught on how to be everything wrong – in the eyes of the owners it was everything right – with being raised with the wrong thoughts of the poor and how they should be mistreated, that creatures out there should be killed, and even the fact that if one isn’t hurt then they will never learn.

Children shouldn’t have parents, and they shouldn’t grow up either.

They shouldn’t know how to survive in the real world, and they shouldn’t be able to protect themselves.

Y/n was told she was wrong in the way she thought, that children have a mind of their own, and that they will all grow up and leave Pan and Cruella here in this huge building alone – Pan didn’t like what the six-year-old was telling him, not one bit, so in front of everyone’s eyes, he bashed a rock into the side of her head until she fell unconscious, only waking up at the feeling of a cold flannel being pressed against her head by Daniel and their mentor – Tania – checking her over.

She still carries that scar on the top of her head.

She was six years old when Peter Pan and Cruella De Vil saw her as their main target to hurt, Y/n didn’t mind though, as long as the other children were left unharmed, then she’ll carry as many scars that will tell her tale.

“My mother wasn’t a good person,” Y/n mentioned one day in her training, when she was just seven years old, Tania raised her brows in surprise that Y/n knew this, she wasn’t meant to know but here she was talking about it, “She – it was mentioned in my file.”

“You read your file?”

She nods. “I just wanted to know more about…I just wanted to find out–”

“No,” Tania shook her head. “You shouldn’t have looked at that.”

“I didn’t think it be bad,” Y/n frowned, looking down at her feet as she kicked a piece of gravel from the ground away. “Why did you agree to do this after what my – what she did? I could be the same, you know.”

“You aren’t,” Tania was quick to mention. “You aren’t the same and you never will be. Your mother was a bad person, I know this to be true. I know this as she was the one who slit my daughter’s throat. But if I’d seen even an ember of that cruelty in you I never would’ve agreed to mentor you,” Tania took a step forwards, rubbing a gentle thumb across Y/n’s cheek before holding her hands in a motherly hold. “She may have given birth to you, but she doesn’t get to decide who you become – you do that.”

“Was my father a better person at least.”

“He was one of the greatest men I have ever met, he just, he fell for the wrong person and death caught up with him sooner than we would have liked.” Tania squeezes the youngster’s hand. “He would have loved you and would been so proud of you.”

“Maybe not,” Y/n shrugs, “maybe not because if he was still alive then I wouldn’t be here, I would be living with him and I would be a different person.”

Y/n was still seven years old when there was news that Cruella’s new fur-coat belonged to the creature that she yells to all on how she believes they’re all bad, and all should be skinned alive, she never was quiet on her hatred for werewolves. It was still the same day when a friend of hers questioned her opinion on werewolves – Wyatt Poitier.

“Are they bad?” The girl shoots them a confused look. “Werewolves? Are they bad? Cruella says they are – says they deserve nothing but painful death. She always said that when she finds one, she will kill it, and wear it as a fur coat.”

Y/n doesn’t think they are. Not all at least. She knows a few, all nice and all just scared humans who have extreme attributes that the average human do not carry, and perhaps their even more terrified of themselves than others are of them, because each time the moon is full they must go through the painful transition that causes others to call them a monster.

However, she was never clueless on the horrifying one that lived over in England.

Her werewolves’ friends never asked to be who they are though, they never asked to be something people find only in their nightmares. Where once someone discovers that secret, most will treat them differently, will want their death to full upon them, and some will begin to silently judge them before a simple hello is ever spilled again.

“No,” she shakes her head. “I don’t think they are. They’re just people who also happen to be wolves. Some are good. Some are bad. Just like people.”

“Pan agrees with Cruella.”

“Well,” Y/n sits up, and leans her back against her headboard of her bed. “They would say that when they’re just the same as the bad wolves.”

The two days before they evacuated to England, Y/n and Daniel’s mentor was found dead, the news the next day insisted she died from the fire of the orphanage burning from the children – but Y/n knew it couldn’t be right as she knew no one was left in the building when she lit the match to start the amber glow.

Y/n carried the belief that it was Pan, Cruella, and the King – who was seen in Neverland earlier that week.

Y/n was just nine when she escaped to England, and she was still only nine when she become the Robin Hood who had revolution fogging up her brain.

“And just at that moment, the ugly little frog looked up with his sad, round eyes, and pleaded, ‘oh, please dear princess, only a kiss from you can break this terrible spell.’” Y/n spoke to the kids as she told them a story she had memorised in her brain due to the amount of times the children of the orphanage read it to one another. “And–”

There was a sharp three knocks that echoed throughout the small, stoned room, all the kids that sat cross-legged on the ground whipped their heads round to look at the door, whilst only Daniel and Y/n had to lift their heads up a little. They all await for the handle of the door to be pulled down, but yet, it never does, not until Daniel calls out a “come in,” did the handle move and the door was pushed open ever so slightly, enough for young Wyatt to nervously poke his head in as he looked at the duo.

“Er,” he looked over his shoulder at something, “you two won’t like this but,” he looks at them again, “there’s a visitor for you,” he mutters before moving away and slamming the door shut.

The pair moved away from the self-crafted beanbags as they moved towards the door, ignoring the pleads from the children as they asked them to come back and finish the story. Daniel was quick to reassure them that they be back after they see who was outside. Slowly, the children moved from the floor and went off to play with some of the toys in the room.

The two slowly moved out of the door, but a hand was quick to land on Daniel’s chest as they tried to push him back into the room before he could even close the door behind him.

“Wyatt what are you-”

“Change of plans, they only want to see Y/n right now.” Wyatt whispers as he pushes Daniel back into the room whilst Wyatt followed closely behind, closing the door as he goes, leaving Y/n outside, hands on her hips as she squinted to try and find this visitor.

“This is ridiculous where is,” her eyes fall on a slightly taller figure standing in front of her, her face scrunches up in disgust. “What are you doing back here?”

The figure removes his hood.

“I’ll keep my hood up if I were you, don’t want anyone to pass by and see who you are.” She utters as she takes a look around to see if anyone was close by whilst he pulls his hood back over his head. “I thought I told you earlier that you should return back to your castle. And where’s that friend of yours? Not out here is he? Better not be causing any trou– ”

Charles rolls his eyes. “He’s with the horses.” His fingers nervously reach to the side of his cloak, running up and down the steam of it as he looked at the girl in front. “I wanted to come back and apologise.” Y/n raised a brow. “Look, I just think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Well, I think we did too.”

“Okay–”

“But I appreciate your apology.”

“Apology?” Charles breathlessly laughs before scrunching his face up. “Who said anything about an apology? I was just saying–”

“Please don’t talk anymore, okay?” She crosses her arms over her chest as she turns to look away from him. “It’s only going to upset me.”

“Well you have already me upset so–”

“Is this about robbing you?” She turns to look at him, hands dropping to her side before raising her right hand to gesture towards him. “Come on, like that’s going to hurt your bank account.”

Charles chose to ignore this as he put his hand into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, he held it out for Y/n to take.

“So you wouldn’t shake my hand, but you’ll happily hand me things?”

“Your really annoying, has anyone ever told you that?”

She pinches the other side of the envelope, leaving it to dangle down as she held it from a corner. “What is this?”

“Real mature–”

“Hey if you didn’t want to shake my hand, then I don’t even want to touch you.” She eyes the golden colour of it, it almost matching her reward posters. There was no cursive writing addressing to who it was for, but it did have the blue royal stamp sealing it shut. She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at it, but she should have guessed it was an envelope from the Leclerc’s due to it being handed to her by one.

As she ignores the colour of the envelope, she notices, without much surprise, that it was made of high-quality paper with a slightly rough feel to it – it wasn’t like the recycled stuff with bits in it like the people of Aramore use. It was just thick and heavy like letters from hundred of years ago.

Well, it be no shock if they were still using material for letters that they once did many times ago, the rich liked the traditional, they weren’t ones for big changes, so it should come to no shock that their paper felt like a rich metal, or that they weren’t even with the times and recycling their paper.

“I wanted to give you one,” Charles shrugs. “I thought it be a nice thing to do and–”

“This isn’t going to be the leading cause to my death is it?”

His eyes widen, “I hope not.” He responds in French, watching as Y/n’s face scrunches up from not understanding a word he just said. “Oh,” he frowns slightly, “I said I hope not.”

She clicks her tongue at the root of her mouth as she continues to eye the envelope and the boy in front. “Can you go now?” She questions, and before she could even watch if he does leave this time or not, she was already heading back inside to the small room she once was in, coming face-to-face with an annoyed Daniel and a Wyatt wouldn’t stop shifting on his feet.

“What’s that?” Daniel points to the thing that was still pinched in between Y/n’s thumb and forefinger.

“Poison,” she mutters, still eyeing it up in disgust.

“O-Oh, Y/n,” Wyatt stutters, “You must go,” The duo’s brows knitted together at Wyatt’s wording as they watched his eyes lit up at the sighting of what she was pinching. “You must! It be an amazing opportunity for you and, oh, Y/n, you can’t run forever; he’ll find you one day,” Wyatt warned. “Just go and have some fun and do what you do best; steal.”

“Who says I’m running?” Y/n lets out a scoff, which was slightly merged into an airy laugh too, “I’ve been here for the last five years, and if he ever gets the courage to come for me, I’ll still be right here.”

She understood that Wyatt must have figured out that this was from the royals, and by he, he must mean the King, and perhaps Wyatt thought this was a letter personally from the King, and maybe he believed this letter was going to mend everything.

But it wasn’t – that only happens in fairytales.

“But Y/n–”

Her finger slides underneath the lip of the envelope, tearing it open. She watches how the royal blue stamp that had a golden rose engraved onto it and is then surrounded with an aureate circular frame, splits into a near perfect half.

She tugs the folded black card out; she then holds it in one hand whilst the other crushes the envelope into a ball.

With her other hand, her thumb slips up from the bottom of the card, pressing down on the lined spine to open it up. Swiftly falling down like snow on a winter’s morning came two glistening silver and black tickets. The silver glitter littered across it shimmered like those elegant mirror balls found hanging from those darkened ceilings, producing thousands of different circular lights around the room.

She ignores them, but Daniel doesn’t as he bends down to collect them, eyes widening just like his friend’s as they read the same word, however one read it from the tickets, and the other read from the letter itself.

You’re invited to The Royal Leclerc’s Masquerade Ball.

References (in order of appearances): reference to chicken little || reference to tangled || reference to swan princess || reference to robin hood || reference to robin hood || reference to tangled || reference to robin hood || reference to tangled || reference to peter pan || reference to peter pan || reference to peter pan || reference to 101 dalmatians || reference to the princess and the frog || reference to anastasia ||

Detailed References and Taglist found in reblog Likes/Reblogs/Comments always appreciated along with any ideas one may have as this very long series proceed.

Act One Masterlist//Character Profiles//Playlist

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girlswhowantboystobegirls · 2 months

Text

Kissing Classes ♡ Luke Castellan x M!Reader

previous ☆ 2nd chapter ☆ 3rd chapter

summary 1st chapter: luke asks you to teach him how to kiss to impress a girl he really likes.

1.2k words

warnings: queer sadness, bad words (tell me if i've forgotten something)

tags: pansexual!luke, mlm!reader, luke's first kiss, chb is chill with your sexuality, friends with benefits (???), friends to lovers, pre-tlt

I. "How To Kiss?"

It definitely wasn't a secret you were into men while being one. Not because you had a slur written on your forehead, it wasn't *that* obvious. But, it was recognizable since the few moments Aphrodite daughters tried to approach you, and you weren't interested (which seemed crazy enough, so smart people – and Luke – knew you were gay, or at least; in the queer spectrum).

People were okay about it, and they didn't mention it. Which made you comfortable. After all, Camp Half-Blood as a whole was an Ancient Greece reference.

Today before the iconic campfire, Luke asked you to talk about something in his cabin. You supposed it was some kind of favor because of the tone in his voice. Perhaps a shameful one, because he really didn't want to raise his voice for you to hear well. Luckily enough, you caught the words "my cabin before the campfire", unable to comprehend the rest.

Now, in the Hermes cabin, Luke and you are alone. And you can't help but wonder "what the fuck am I here for? Why is he taking so long to say whatever?"

— There's this girl...

"Oh. Right" you thought.

— Hm?

— There is this girl I really like but- you know- I never had a girlfriend so Ineverlearnedhowtokiss — you couldn't understand the last part very well.

— What?

— I want you to teach me how to kiss — Luke spat the words, not very nervous about it, well, not as much as you.

How many boyfriends have you had? One? Or maybe one and a half, there was one who probably was a situationship. How many kisses have you given? No idea. You didn't count them. Why would Luke ask you, an almost unexperienced person, to teach him how to kiss?

— Wh- why me? — you asked, touching a frustrated tone with your voice.

— You have kissed people, didn't you?

— Uhm, I don't know — you said as if you were clueless, acting it. And then raised your voice a little —. Maybe four or five times, Castellan. I don't go around and kiss every guy in this camp!

A moment of silence was made for the happiness you had on that day. Long gone.

— So you are asking me, a dude, gay, and also your bestfriend, to give your these 'kissing classes' so you can impress a girl? — you asked, impressed and angry at the proposal the Hermes Counselor had.

— Yeah. I don't feel comfortable asking anyone but you — Luke answered.

— Are you sure this doesn't have a- I don't know, homoerotic subtext? I've seen this on movies... — the look on the other boy, indicating an "I'm not playing around. This is a favor. I'm your best friend" on his expression, made your joke stop —. Alright. Who's this girl?

— She is an Aphrodite kid. You don't know her.

— Aaalright. Maybe I don't, but what's her name?

— Doesn't matter. I just know they always expect the best for a partner and I want to reach that.

— Okay, okay, you are down bad — you laughed a little —. But really, out of all people, why me? It's weird that you are asking your gay friend to kiss you to impress a girl, well- unless she's into that stuff, which is not really okay either.

Luke had a serious expression on his face. He really wanted you to do him that favor.

— I can sneak anything you want if you do me this favor, really. Yes or no?

"He's desperate" you thought. Yes, it was nice to help out a friend, but not really when you had a crush on him and he casually asks you to teach him how to kiss. It hurt a little.

— Sneak me a CD player. I wanted one for a long time — you became a little more serious. You could get a player to listen to your favorite CDs from your human parent. "Just don't close your eyes in the teaching" you thought to yourself, maybe you could hide your crush.

— I can do that — Luke smiled after a while of not doing so. He was satisfied. You certainly tried to appear so, too.

— So... I suppose it's a first time for you with a girl. You shouldn't look really desperate, it's a daughter of the Goddess of Love. She would want to take things her way — you assumed, looking anywhere but to your friend.

— Care to show me? — Luke was grinning like an idiot. You wanted to punch him.

You stayed silent for a bit:—. I do mind, but well — you said.

Hermes' Cabin Counselor held one of your shoulders and pulled you close. You tried so much not to close your eyes and seize the moment, it wasn't alright to do so.

At some point, Luke grabbed your other shoulder with his free hand and pulled you even closer, which made you nervous (quite an awful lot, you tried to play it cool).

The kiss wasn't bad, and you weren't playing favorites at all. It was a first time for Luke, it was disorganized and full of things to explore. A good kiss nonetheless.

You pulled away after a few moments. Fortunately for you, the blush you had could have been mistaken with lack of breathing for a while.

— Don't do the shoulder thing with her. At all — you tried to sound normal, but your voice was kind of shaky —. It makes you look like you crave her an awful lot, I don't think an Aphrodite kid would like it that fast.

— What should I do then? — Luke looked focused. He was looking at you, yet you tried to avoid his gaze.

— Maybe lean close to her lips and wait for her to give you the consent! You know, people appreciate consent. I'm sure she would too.

— Alright — the Hermes Cabin Counselor looked confused while holding a grin, but you kept going.

— Make sure she wants to kiss. Some Aphrodite kids are unreadable. But yeah, be more gentle, maybe keep the shoulder thing for- for another time? — you stuttered a bit.

— Yeah, thanks. I'll tell you how it goes — he responded, still with that stupid smile of his which you've grown to hate as of just a matter of your recent interaction.

— Bye. Good luck with the lovergirl — you said while getting close to the door, and then left.

The rest of the campers were going back to their respective cabins, so you went to yours too.

Maybe if you had that damn CD player Luke promised you, you would be able to listen to Queen, Blur, The Smiths or The Cure to match your mood. But you didn't have the device. At least not yet.

You went to sleep wishing there isn't going to be a second time, because you would lose your mind. Hell, your crush confessed he liked a girl (that was the normal part of it), and used you to know how to kiss her. Maybe it was just a plan to play with you, wouldn't have been the first time someone did that. But it was Luke you were thinking about, he wouldn't do that.

"Then what the fuck is it?" you thought while almost falling asleep completely.

A day worth of 'I tried to laugh about it, cover it all up with lies and hiding the tears in my eyes because boys don't cry'. But that CD player wasn't there.

#Spotify #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #luke castellan

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topguncortez · 1 year

Text

Bad Medicine | Chapter 2

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

word count: 5.4k

synopsis: A wealthy Italian mobster sets up his daughter to marry the head of one of the last remaining mafias in California. The union was supposed to create and heal the damage between two families, but all it does is cause more harm than good. MAJOR SLOW BURN (ENEMIES TO LOVERS)

WARNINGS: death/murder, guns, violence, physical abuse, cursing, mentions of prostitution, mentions of murder, grief, blood, nudity, mentions of drugs, mentions of a brothel

Y/N’s apartment looked over the upper East Side of New York. It was a cute little place that was within walking distance to the club. It gave her both things that she loved, the chaotic life that came with living in New York, and privacy to where she felt safe coming home at night. And that was partially because of Rueben, aka Payback, her bodyguard that Rafael had hired when she moved back to New York. That was part of Rafael’s deal in sending Y/N back to New York, she had to have a bodyguard. Y/N was smart though, and could figure out how to leave her bodyguards in the dust and jet off around the world, except Rueben could see right through that all.

Y/N stood on the balcony, taking in her surroundings for the last time. She hadn’t stood out on the balcony in a long time. Good and bad memories filled her mind as she held her cup of tea close to her body for some warmth. Images of her relationship with Francisco filled her mind and sent a shiver down her spine. She also thought about all the good times she had while working at the club. Sure it wasn’t the best job she could ever have, but she loved the girls she worked with. She was probably going to miss them more than anything.

“Y/N?” Gianni asked softly, “You ready?”

Y/N and Rueben had spent the whole night packing. She looked over at the small carryon and purse sitting on her bed. She packed the essentials to make the trip over. Her brothers would be sending the rest of her clothing in the coming weeks.

Y/N took a deep breath, she wanted to tell him no. She didn’t know a thing about Jake Seresin, to the internet it was like the man didn’t exist. She knew that he supposedly studied law at University of Texas, but never went past that. He took over for his father when he had a heart attack nearly two years ago. It was all fabricated bullshit about “Seresin Enterprises” and how they bought several blocks of casinos and clubs in both Vegas and San Diego. Apparently they had been on the FBI’s radar for sometime due to an underground boxing and prostitution ring. However, they claim no such truth about it. Which was something all mobsters said.

“Y/N, we gotta get headed to the airport. The Don is mad we held it off this long,” Paulo said walking into her room. Y/N sighed and walked into the room, leaving the warmth of the morning sun, “You got what you need?”

“Yeah, Payback took my bags to the car,” She answered and fixed herself in the mirror. She wore a simple skin tight black dress and paired it with matching black heels. Her tan skin looked sunkissed compared to the dark colors. She looked around at her barren apartment and frowned. She didn’t have a lot of stuff to begin with, but seeing it all boxed up made her feel kind of sad. Y/N nodded, and Gianni gently led her through the house and towards the waiting car.

“Wait,” Y/N said, and turned to face her brother, “Have you heard from Sophie? I haven’t heard from her since she left for Greece and I know she’d want to be a part of this wedding bullshit.”

Paulo looked at his two brothers, as if to tell them to keep their mouths shut. Narciso clenched his jaw and Gianni whistled, looking away from his little sister.

“I have not heard from Sophie,” Paulo answered, “But I’ll make sure someone reaches out to her.”

“She’d kill me if I got married and she wasn’t there for it,” Y/N smiled sadly and pulled her phone out, dialing the number again. Paulo ushered her into the car as Sophie’s phone went to voicemail again. Y/N sighed and left her yet another voicemail.

When Y/N arrived at the small private airport she noticed the black SUVs and armed men that were standing around. She would try and make a break for it if it weren’t for the military style weapons ready to fire at any moment. One would think that the president or some diplomat was about to land, but in reality, it was just some man from Italy. Although the Santiagos had slowly defeated their enemies over the years, some still lurked in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The Don stepped out of his own vehicle when the Santiago siblings arrived. He looked pissed and Paulo fixed his suit as he walked over to talk to him. The patriarch stared his daughter down through the dark tinted glass of the SUV. She gulped and looked over at Payback who simply shrugged. He didn’t want to do this anymore than she wanted.

“Do you want to make things easy?” Payback asked and Y/N nodded, “Don’t try and fight every little thing he says.”

“You know me better than that Rueben,” Y/N smirked, and opened her car door. Her heels clicked across the ground as she walked up to her father. His stare sent a shiver down her spine, and it made her hold her head up higher, trying to show him that she was not afraid.

“No funny business, Y/N. You get on the plane here and off in San Diego. I hear you made the pilot take you to England or Paris, I will cut off the expenses for the wedding,” Rafael threatened Y/N. The girl rolled her eyes, “We’ve set up for you to be married to Jacob in four weeks.”

“Four fucking weeks?!” Y/N cursed and was met with another backhand across her face.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” The Don yelled, “This is why you couldn’t find a husband on your own.”

“Maybe if you would give me a damn chance!” Y/N yelled.

“Why? So you could find someone else to murder someone in our family?!”

Y/N clenched her jaw and looked away from him. She had heard it almost every year since her mother’s death, Rafael never let her live it down. What happened to her mother was one of the worst things that Y/N and her family could’ve gone through, but no one knew that Francisco would turn his anger towards Marie. Her brothers forgave her for what happened, but Rafael still held it over her head.

“Are none of you going to say anything!?” Y/N yelled at her brothers. They were all looking down at the ground, not bothering to jump in and say anything, “Spineless fucking idiots,” Y/N cursed and licked her lips, “I’ll see you in hell, Rafael.”

Rafael stood with his head up, his jaw clenched as he watched Y/N and Rueben walk up the plane steps. She sat down in a chair that was by the window. She watched as her brothers wouldn’t look at the plane, but the Don looked like he was ready to give an order to shoot it down. Y/N knew once the plane took off he would scold her brothers for telling her about Francisco, but the Don didn’t dare punish the boys in front of her or anyone else. People needed to know the boys were untouchable, but Y/N’s life was useless.

“Miss Santiago, can I get you anything to drink?” The flight attendant asked.

Y/N looked around the small jet and noted who the security was. There was, of course, Reuben and what looked to be like his new partner. Rafael hardly let Y/N go without two guards. The last one had been killed because the Don caught Y/N and him together. The new guy was all of 6 foot tall, with tan skin and a scar running down his face. His dark hair was gelled back and it looked like he had just bought a new black suit and dress shoes. Payback could see the glint in her eye and knew exactly what was going to happen next.

“Well, Rueben will have a Hangman IPA, I’ll take whatever red wine you have open, and a glass of whiskey for the Rookie,” Y/N smirked. Payback rolled his eyes, knowing Y/N’s plan like the back of his hand. This wasn’t the first flight he had taken with her and some new rookie, he had seen this episode before.

“We can’t just have one plane ride where you leave the Rookies be?” Reuben asked, and Y/N just smiled, “You know what’ll happen.”

“Then why not enjoy the fun while it lasts,” Y/N said as the flight attendant handed her the glass of wine, “Leave the bottle please, dear.”

“Laying it on thick,” Payback said, taking out his headphones.

“My life has been signed away, Reuben. These are my last moments of freedom until I have to go wait on some mobster hand and foot,” Y/N said and Rueben frowned. He glanced outside the window to see that the black SUVs that carried her family were gone.

“Fine,” He muttered, “Just know this one is on you.”

“Of course,” Y/N nodded, her eyes going over to the Rookie who was seemingly confused. She just gave him a wink, and settled back in her chair as the pilot told them to prepare for take off. Y/N closed her eyes, she wasn’t ever a fan of planes taking off, she always felt like she was going to fall right out of the sky.

Once the plane got up to cruising altitude, Y/N opened her eyes and looked at the Rookie, “Have you ever joined the Mile High club?”

“N-no, ma’am,” He said. He had a thick country accent, making him out to probably be from the South.

“Perfect,” Y/N smiled and stood up, taking his hand in hers and leading him to the private bedroom in the back of the plane. Payback groaned in annoyance, and pulled his earbuds out of his pocket. He settled them in his ears before going back to look through his magazine.

“They never learn.”

— — — ♱♱♱ — — — ♱♱♱ — — —

When the plane finally touched down in San Diego, California, the skyline was already starting to light up. Y/N smiled, noticing the familiar sight of the skyscrapers in the distance. Rueben followed behind her, straightening out his suit, and looking at The Rookie behind him who had a smirk plastered on his face. He felt like the king of the world having bodied the princess of the Italian Mob. The Rookie fixed his suit jacket and ran a hand over his gelled back hair.

“Good evening Miss Santiago, my name is Martin, and I’ll be handling your movement from the airport to the Seresin compound,” Martin was a middle aged man who had salt and pepper hair. Y/N held her hand out and Martin kissed the back of it. Y/N’s favorite pastime was making men bow to her like she was the Queen of England. In a way, Y/N was a queen, the mafia queen. If Y/N was into old men, Martin would be added as another name on her list.

“How was your flight? Everything went smoothly, I assume?” Martin asked, as he ushered Y/N towards the awaiting white Range Rover. Her father hated white cars. He said it made them stand out too much and put a bigger target on their backs.

“Yes the flight went very well,” Y/N said, and glanced over her shoulder at the Rookie. He smirked to himself, and fixed his suit jacket. He felt like he was the king of the word having bagged the Italian Mob king’s daughter. But that feeling was short lived as Rueben tightened the silencer on his gun, and then fired a shot into the Rookie’s skull.

“Clean this mess up,” Reuben said to the men standing by. Martin opened the door for Y/N, and she noticed a group of men picking up The Rookie’s body. She looked at Rueben who was tucking his gun back into the holster of his jacket.

“What?” Reuben asked, and Y/N nodded her head towards the body, “I told you not to.”

“Mood killer,” Y/N said and Rueben shook his head, shutting her door before getting into the front passenger seat.

The Seresin mansion sat in the neighborhood of Mission Hills, which was about ten minutes outside of San Diego. Y/N had only visited a handful of cities in the US, and had only been to California once. She understood why mobsters picked quite poor towns to set up shop. The busy hustle and bustle of the nearby ports could mask the terrors that the mobs did. Y/N eyed the prostitutes as they hung around the street corners in downtown San Diego.

“Those are someone's daughters,” Her mother used to say when they would pass a young female on the street in barely there clothing. Her mother would take them in, like stray cats, give them food and a place to bathe, before they would run off back to the streets they know.

“Everything is pretty close,” Martin explained as they drove through the busy streets, “It’s no European country side, but it suffices. Los Angeles is about two hours by car. San Fran is two hours by jet. Mr. Seresin has his own private jet. It’s one of the best ways to travel around. Sometimes, they’ll take a private train. Although, most of his work is done in Miramar or North Island.”

She knew that from the google search that she did. Jake owned a flight club and a bar in North Island called the Hard Deck. It was a quaint little place that attracted a lot of sailors to the area. It also just so happened to be where his brothel was set up. If there was anything Navy men loved more than causing a fight, it was getting pussy after a long trip out to sea.

“What is the legality of their business?” Y/N asked.

Payback looked at her in the rearview mirror, “You know what they do.”

“I can’t ask questions to get to know my future husband? I am going to be investing in this, so it is only fair that I know what he is doing.” She had a point and both Payback and Martin knew it. Y/N was smart and knew how to play her cards correctly, “Tell me what they do.”

“Mr. Seresin’s grandfather set up a very vast trading company back in New York during the twenties. The Seresins own and control almost 50% of the US trading ports. Seresin Trades is working on going global with the help of Mr. Santiago. Mr. Bob Floyd has been fast at work creating Seresin Industries, one of the fastest startup technology companies,” Martin said.

“A trading company,” Y/N tilted her head to the side, “How unique. And the brothels, fight rings, clubs, and casinos, those are just. . . extra amenities?”

“Athena,” Reuben warned.

Y/N held her hand up stopping Rueben, “Martin?”

Martin scoffed, “You act like your family is the greatest gift to God’s green earth.” As soon as the words left his lips, Martin regretted it.. Y/N glared at him through the rearview mirror and a cold sweat broke out down his back, “I apologize.”

“A little too late,” Reuben said and Y/N smirked.

If there was anyone who knew Y/N better than her own brothers, it was Rueben . He had become her personal bodyguard after Francisco attacked her and her mother’s death. Y/N had gotten too smart, she figured out how to run away from her guards. So Rafael hired Rueben , and the man watched her like a hawk. Y/N was never out of his sight. He had not only become her bodyguard, but also her closest confidant. She could tell him anything and everything.

Martin’s knuckles turned white with his grip on the steering wheel, as he turned on to a magnificent compound. The black gates rolled back as the SUV drove onto the marble driveway that was lined with black lamp posts. Buried behind the trees was almost like a castle. The Kiszka house stood tall, at least 3 stories, and had a complete wall of windows.

“Mr. Seresin likes windows. Makes him feel less caged in.” Martin said as he pulled up in front of the house. There was a large water fountain in the middle of the circle drive and Y/N could see water lilies floating around in the water.

“Lovely,” Y/N said. When the car came to a stop, her door was opened. She reached her hand out and a guard gently grabbed her hand, helping her out of the car. She smoothed down her dress as Rueben quickly rounded the car to her side, “Where is he?”

“I believe they are at the club, or getting ready to go,” Martin responded. The glass front door opened and an older woman stepped out of the house.

“Welcome Miss Santiago,” She introduced herself, and bowed her head softly,“I am Emile, I will be your personal attendant. Do you care for a glass of champagne, maybe even wine?”

Y/N took a step into the house, and looked around the foyer. It had high ceilings that opened into a glass grand staircase. Everything was red and white, giving the entrance a cold yet warm feeling. The living room was open, and had white leather couches and a fluffy black rug on the floor. Hanging above a roaring fireplace was a picture of a young man in a black suit. She stood in front of the picture, the man’s green eyes were enticing and almost as if they were locking her in a trance. She looked away at the sound of the front door opening and Rueben walking in.

“I’ll take a bottle of white,” Y/N said to Emile, “And please take the bottle to my room. Oh! And if you would, can you draw me a bath? I don’t like the feeling of blood on my hands.”

Rueben scoffed, “You’re one to talk.” She could see a smudge of blood on his collar, more than likely from killing Martin before he walked into the house.

“Yes, Miss,” Emile nodded and scurried off towards the kitchen. Y/N stepped farther into the house surveying everything. She walked over to a set of windows and glass sliding doors. She looked over the backyard, an infinity pool and giant garden that looked daunting at night, caught her eye. Y/N made a note of wanting to test the water in the pool at some point tonight.

“He would like you to come to the office,” A guard said, standing in the doorway of the living room.

Y/N turned around to see about ten or so men standing in the living room, all of them wearing black suits and ties.

“No,” Y/N responded, a smirk on her lips. Her eyes not leaving the reflecting water of the pool, and kicked off her heels. She reached for the zipper of her dress and undid it. Payback also knew this tactic, and rolled his eyes. Y/N let the sleeves of her dress fall down her shoulders, and shrugged the dress off, wearing absolutely nothing underneath. All the men standing around her tried to avert their eyes the best they could, but failed miserably.

“I want a bath first,” She said.

“I can’t let you do that,” The guard responded.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, stepping closer to him, “Do I turn you on?”

“I-I. . . Mr. Seresin had strict instructions-”

“I bet these pants are feeling pretty strict,” She let her hand shamelessly trail up and down his body, before landing over the clothed hard-on

“Please,” The guard practically begged. Y/N smirked as she gently palmed him, “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Y/N challenged. Before the guard could respond another gunshot rang through the house. Y/N shrieked as the guard’s body buckled and she moved out of the way to let him fall. She looked over at a tall man with curly hair, holding a gun out.

“That’s what I’m gonna do about it,” The gun wielding man said. He tucked the gun back into the waistband of his black dress pants. He was tall with beautiful brown eyes with scars on his face and neck. Y/N smirked and walked over to him, but he held his hand out, “Don’t think about it. Let’s fucking go.”

Y/N opened her mouth but squealed as he threw her naked body over his shoulder, “Hey! Put me down!” She yelled, hitting his back. The man tightened his grip on her body so he wouldn’t drop her as she kicked and squirmed in his arms, “Payback!”

Reuben took a step forward to try and intervene but was cut off by guards standing in front of him, “Just keep your mouth shut!”

Y/N felt a shiver run down her body, “I’ll fucking kill you,” She threatened the man.

“I’d like to see you try,” The man said and tossed her down onto a cold leather chair, “Wait here, don’t fucking move.”

Y/N looked around the office, seeing more pictures of the man from the living room. There was a bookshelf with tons of old leather books with gold writing. Y/N narrowed her eyes, reading the titles on the side, most of them were in Latin, but she could understand that they were law books. There was a large dark oak desk in front of her, which must belong to her future husband. On the wall behind the desk were various diplomas from colleges that he must’ve gone to.

He’s distinguished, Y/N thought to herself, and smart.

Y/N almost got out of her chair to go explore more things around his desk, when she heard the clicking of fancy dress shoes coming down the hall. She sucked in a breath as the door opened, and a beautiful blonde man with green eyes stood in the doorway. He was wearing all black, with his shirt rolled up to his elbows. He forewent the tie, and Y/N could see he was wearing a thin gold chain around his neck.

“You couldn’t give her the dignity to walk in here by herself? With her clothes on?” The blonde man asked.

“She didn’t want to,” The man with the gun shrugged and looked over at a man who was wearing a big pair of glasses, with a smirk, “We lost Martin and Dominick.”

“Fucking idiots,” The blonde cursed, “Welcome Y/N, I’m Jake, your new husband.” He held his arms out as if he were presenting some great prize. Y/N looked him up and down, he looked like the human version of Adonis, “My beauty stunned you into silence. It happens, sweetheart. But thank you for finally joining us.”

Y/N scoffed, “You basically bought me from my father to help your little group here get up and running.”

“Oh don’t flatter yourself sweetheart. You weren’t the pick of the crop I wanted,” Jake said, but then shrugged, “No offense.”

“Offense taken,” Y/N said, “What? I’m not good enough for you? You prefer underaged prostitute pussy instead? I bet, he-” She said pointing at the man with large glasses, “Would you like a taste?”

“Not my type either,” He said, “I like my pussy tight and silent.”

Jake chuckled and Y/N clenched her jaw. He walked towards her, his green eyes looking her up and down as if he were examining her. She felt like she was under a microscope and wanted to hide away. She was suddenly very aware that she was sitting naked in front of three guys who could easily kill her, and had no idea where Rueben was.

“Where are your clothes?” Jake asked.

“I like being naked,” Y/N smirked, sitting back in the chair, exposing more of her body. Jake looked like he was about to murder everyone in the room. He looked from her face to her chest, his eyes seemingly assessing every millimeter of skin, down her stomach and to her legs, which were crossed hiding her modesty. Y/N caught the wandering eyes of the men behind Jake, and slowly uncrossed her legs, opening them slightly. That was the final straw for Jake, as he moved quickly, snatching her up by her chin.

“I was told I was getting a mafia queen,” Jake spat, holding her throat tightly, “We got rules, sweetheart, and you’re going to listen to them, got it? Or I swear to god, I’ll fucking sell you for whatever your worth to the highest bidder. I’m sure these-” He said, tracing his fingers between her breasts, his knuckles brushing against the soft mound of skin, “could get me a pretty penny. Of course, the face is a little fucked up.”

Y/N clenched her jaw at the mention of the scar that ran down her face. Her eye socket had to be repaired and left a permanent scar, a constant reminder of what Francisco had done to her. It was easy for her to hide the other scars on her body, that one, was out in the open for everyone to see. Her mother told her to not hide what he did, to embrace it.

“Understand me?” Jake asked and Y/N nodded. He released her chin.

“Asshole,” Y/N said, before spitting in his face. Jake clenched his jaw, and grabbed her hair, yanking her head back to look up at him.

“Don’t fucking test me, sweetheart,” Jake seethed, “I won’t hesitate to throw you down on the pew, I don’t give a fuck who your daddy is. Don’t fuck with me, doll.” Y/N trembled and nodded. Jake picked up her body and put her down on the wooden chair, harshly. Her ass still stung a bit from where the curly haired man had thrown her down earlier.

“If you’re done being a brat, I’d like to introduce you to my right hand men. The one that brought you in here was Rooster, he’s in charge of security. You need to go somewhere, you take it up with him. If he tells you ‘no’ you don’t fucking argue. This is Bob,” Jake said, pointing to the man with the glasses, “He’s intelligence. Don’t try to fucking go somewhere or call someone or do something fucking stupid cause he’ll find out about it and I’ll kill you.”

“And what do you do?” Y/N asked.

Jake smiled, “I’m the Hangman. I am the reason this whole place ruins and operates. The face of the family and the company.”

“Bob would’ve made a cuter face,” Y/N said and looked at the man. Bob couldn’t help but chuckle, but Jake quickly shot him a glare. Y/N sent him a wink though, which made his ears turn red.

Jake crossed his arms over his chest, “I’ve got a couple rules. One, don’t be in my way or anyone else's way. Two, don’t fucking speak to me unless you are spoken too. And three, don’t piss me off. If you follow those three rules. . . I don’t see why this relationship won’t work out great.”

“Because you’re a fucking psychopathic murderer.”

“Says the one who’s gotten three men killed in your first two hours of being here,” Jake said.

Y/N smiled, “You say that?”

Jake leaned his hands on either side of the chair she was sitting on. She could smell is cologne and see a thin scar by his eyebrow, “I see everything,” He spoke softly, “Go fucking clean yourself off. I don’t want to see your face until tomorrow.” Jake said and turned to walk out of the office, “Actually, I don’t want to see your face at all, unless I fucking ask to see you, which I probably won’t. I don’t want you here any less than you actually want to be here. If I knew you were a part of the expansion gun deal we made, I would’ve never fucking made it.”

Y/N tried to not let his words sting. She had heard worse from her father, but there was something about hearing it from someone else. Y/N turned her head to the side as Jake and the boys left the office with a slam of the door. As soon as the door shut, she let the tears roll down her face. She waited a minute before she got up from the wooden chair and walked out of the office. She was suddenly very aware that she was stark naked in a mobster’s house.

She moved softly as she walked down the hallway, trying to avoid the eyes of the workers in the house. Y/N looked up and noticed Emile walking towards her with a robe. The older woman smiled softly at her and handed her the robe. Y/N nodded and wrapped it tightly around her body. Emile gently wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders, guiding her over to the grand staircase and up to the second floor.

“Mr. Jacob and the boys went out for the night,” Emile said. She had a heavy french accent that reminded Y/N of some of the older maids back home at her father’s mansion, “I ran a bath and had some of the other guards bring your belongings into your room. Any specific way to put your clothing away?”

Y/N shook her head, “I can get that tomorrow when the rest of my things arrive. Thank you, Emile.”

“You are very welcome, Miss,” Emile said, nodding her head as they stood outside one of the bedrooms, “The master bedroom,” Emile said, pushing open two wooden doors. Y/N’s jaw dropped at the sight of the bedroom. It was white with red accents that reminded her of the suit that Jake wore. Hanging above a california king bed was a picture of the fucker himself. Y/N scoffed, of course, he had a picture of himself hanging above the bed, “Mr. Jacob doesn’t stay here. He prefers a bed on the third floor with his brothers.”

“They are all very close?” Y/N asked and Emile nodded.

“Very close. They all served together in the Navy.”

Now that was one thing the internet did not tell Y/N. That meant one of two things, they never served long enough to make an impact, or the Navy was trying hard to keep them all a secret. Whatever the reason was, Y/N was going to find out more about it.

Y/N walked over and ran her hands on the satin bed sheets. They were soft and still smelled like the packaging. The room had an overall cold feeling to it, like no one had ever stayed in the room. Y/N could tell that the paint on the walls wasn’t the original colors. She could see the slight difference in paint colors as the walls met at the ceiling. She ran her hands over the footboard of the bed, humming to herself as she did.

“Is that tune from ‘Annie’?” Emile asked, and Y/N lifted her head, smiling.

“It is.”

When Y/N was little, before she knew most about what her family did for a living, she used to play around like she was the little Orphan Annie first coming to Daddy Warbucks’ house. She used to play the song ‘I Think I’m Gonna Like it Here’ while running up and down the halls with her mother, making the butlers and the maids sing along with her. She did it at every house she moved into, it was one of the good memories she had with her mother.

Y/N paused and looked at the picture above the bed, and then at Emile, “When will they be back?”

“Oh, they stay out very late,” Emile answered, “I see them leave at night and stumble around the next morning with hangovers.” She smiled and sighed, “Your bath is waiting for you, dear. Any questions, don’t be scared to ask.”

“Thank you.” “They aren’t all monsters,” Emile said, “Just a little rough around the edges. You know what they say, ‘only the good die young’.”

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brightlight-dazzlingeyes · 9 months

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between the lines | chapter 05

rúben dias x original female character [+18]

synopsis: isabella is a sports journalist covering the premier league. she has sworn to never get involved with a football player. that is, until she meets a handsome portuguese defender. warnings: incorrect journalism references; timeline of events are not faithful to real life; i have never been to england; mutual pining; romantic comedy; minors dni.

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Chapter 05 - Like a last minute own goal

It’s Tuesday and I’m in a bar in Athens watching the penalty shootout between Panathinaikos and Olympique de Marseille. Sitting next to me there’s a man with an AEK jersey and two wearing the Olympiacos uniform.

Across the street, away from this curious scene, standing tall and shiny, there’s a hotel. The hotel I’ll be staying at for the next 30 hours or so. And so is the entirety of the Manchester City squad.

So for the time being, for the sake of my own sanity, I’ll be sitting here at this charming Greek bar sipping one of the few non-alcoholic beverages on the menu.

Eventually the color of the sky warns me it’s my cue to leave, a bright and vibrant orange. I already spent too much time and too much money on this bar. And I wasn’t even supposed to be in this country.

I’m only in Greece to cover for a colleague that allegedly got sick – internally the talk at the office is that he was caught cheating on his wife and had to bail work for a couple days, and somehow I’m the one being punished.

I already know the odds of running into him. They’re high, okay, they always seem to be pretty high.

Still, I cross the street. I take my time doing it, too. Look at both sides multiple times. at the front of the hotel I even took a few pics of the previously mentioned beautiful orange sky.

And yet,

“It’s been a while…” My voice is soft, as I’m trying to be polite. I go as far as nodding when I enter the elevator at the exact time as he does.

Of course the timing would be perfect. If I haven't taken the pictures. Or if I drank less. But I’m starting to believe it wouldn’t have mattered. If not today we were bound to meet again.

“I wonder whose fault is that.” He uses a humorous tone, even raises an eyebrow, smirking, but I can see right through him, he’s not joking. It is my fault. He’s wearing Manchester City’s travel hoodie and joggers, looking so out of place since he’s by himself. I decided against making a joke about that. Maybe another time. Something about asking him if he’s lost from the herd. Or something. Instead, I’m even funnier:

“I miss you too!” I answer with the same tone, maybe a notch higher, trying to actually tell a joke. I consider nudging him with my elbow, to get the bit going, but as soon as I say that the smirk fades off his face and he looks serious at me.

And then his face turns to the elevator door. I watch as he sighs. When our eyes meet again the soft smile is back on his face.

It’s my floor and as I walk out he says:

“Have a good night, Isa.”

I nod. There’s words stuck on my throat and it’s only when the elevator’s door closes again that I manage to say back:

“You too, Rúben.”

A week later, back in Manchester, laying in my own bed, I can’t sleep. I’m still thinking about that encounter, having been thinking about it everyday for the past week. I have to fix this, clear the air. We’re going to meet again and again.

So, against my better judgment, (and to be fair, so long after what I thought I could hold) I text him.

Me: you too

That's good, right? He’ll get it…

Do not text him, girl!!: que?

He texts back immediately. Wasn't expecting that but okay.

Me: hae a good night! have i forgot to say it last time we met

Do not text him, girl!!: isa are you drunk?

I hesitate. Man, that only happened one time! Is it better or worse if I tell him I’m drunk? I mean, I’m kind of sleepy. Maybe I should say yes and go all out ‘I miss kissing you, Rúben’ and shit like that.

No. No, that’s not what I texted him. I only look like I’m drunk texting because he makes me nervous, and the idea is to stop being nervous around him.

Me: what? no! i really just wanted to say have a good night so you know that we’re cool

Rúben: right

Me: we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, and i feel like we didn’t discuss this part the part that you know we’re cool

He takes a while to answer, I’m biting my nails staring directly at the bright white light of the phone. The memory of my brother telling me I’ll be single forever rings in my mind, to be fair he was 14 at the time I had just gotten my first bra. But it is true, and that’s why. I ruin it every time I try.

More minutes pass and he still doesn't answer. My mind goes somewhere else. The actual last conversations we had.

With me saying “I don’t think we can be friends.”, and he saying “Well, that’s not what I’m trying to be.”

“Okay, well, that's worse, Rúben. You get that, right?” I had my hands covering my face as I tried to find the right words. “I just got here, I can't be the reporter that sleeps with the football players.”

“But you…” He held himself back, but I heard it in my mind, ‘but you are’. “Don’t you think is too late for that? You’re really having second thoughts now?!” His hands replaced mine, holding my cheeks. He looked deep into my eyes, like he was trying to read my mind.

I cried more that day than I’m proud to admit. I’m crying right now, still looking at the phone. I don’t expect us to go back to how we were, but I can’t deal with panicking every week just at the idea of seeing him. I can’t avoid him, I can't be with him. So I just want us to be cool, you know? I don’t know how to write a text saying that, though.

Rúben: right we’re cool

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just-late-roman-republic-things · 5 months

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Notes on Craig Williams' Roman Homosexuality, chapter 2! This time we're focusing on how "Roman" or "un-Roman" different sexual practices were, and how Romans reacted to Greek influences. Warning again for non-explicit references to pederasty, slavery, and what we'd now consider rape.

Acceptance of homosexual relationships predated Greek influence in Rome, and Romans didn't see homosexuality as a particularly Greek custom.

However, the open acceptance of sexual relationships between men and freeborn boys - pederasty - was unique to Greece. Roman freeborn boys were supposed to be off-limits.

Hence Roman women, children, and young men were supposed to guard their pudicitia, roughly "sexual integrity," or "chastity." In theory, anyway. And slaves of any age or gender couldn't have pudicitia, because their bodies weren't their own. (I wonder if this may be partly why ex-slaves were still looked down on sometimes, because they were seen as having "lost their virtue"?)

On the other hand, it was much more socially acceptable for Roman men to be attracted to adult men than it was in Greece. Although both Roman and Greek writers talk about the "flower of [male] youth," i.e. the attractiveness of teen boys, only in Roman sources do we see relationships between adult men mentioned in a neutral or positive manner. The Romans also talked openly about male prostitutes who were full adults or acted as the penetrating partners. However, a Roman man was still expected to only have such relations with slaves or prostitutes, not with other free Roman men, and he was supposed to be the penetrator and to act masculine in public.

(Note: if any one has examples to the contrary, please let me know! I was really surprised by Williams' claim that this was more accepted in Rome than in Greece.)

In practice, Roman and Greek sexual relationships were very diverse, just as they are in our time. But Williams is focusing on the cultural norms men would have been judged by, and the language they had available to describe themselves.

Roman traditionalists decried Greek influence, but they mainly objected to what they saw as unnecessary luxury, overindulgence, military weakness, and effeminacy, not homosexual practices. "Overindulgence" could include excessive sexual activity, which critics usually put in the same category as other appetites like food and wine, but it's the degree of luxury they criticize, not the gender of the participants.

In another book (I think it was Mary Beard's SPQR) I read that the Roman virtue of austerity was constructed in response to the growing empire, and wealth and foreign peoples flowing into Rome. Rome's laws permitted many non-ethnic-Romans to gain citizenship through manumission. Thus the idealization of "old-fashioned Roman austerity" may have been an attempt by Romans to differentiate their culture further from what they saw as the luxuries and "decadence" of the Hellenistic world.

#jlrrt reads #roman homosexuality #craig williams #jlrrt essays

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twoidiotwriters1 · 8 days

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The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: I think it's so funny this chapter comes out on Mother's day (México) -Danny Words: 2,407 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Call Your Mom' -by Noah Kahan ft. Lizzy McAlpine

LI: I’m Currently Having the Worst Time of My Life, Thanks for Asking!

One thing about demigods is they will expose their trauma to the room. And if Ara's dad was her monster under the bed, Jason's mother was his Roman Empire (pun intended). All he ever did was based on the one lie she'd told him when he was a toddler.

"So pleased to meet you, son of Jupiter," Antinous smiles. "Listen to your mother. You have many grievances against the gods. Why not join us? I gather these serving girls are your friends? We will spare them. You wish to have your mother remain in the world? We can do that. You wish to be a king—"

"No. No, I don't belong with you." Jason replies in a dazzled state.

"Are you so sure, my fellow praetor?" The son of Janus asks. "Even if you defeat the giants and Gaia, would you return home like Odysseus did? Where is your home now? With the Greeks? With the Romans? No one will accept you. And, if you get back, who's to say you won't find ruins like this?"

"That's a lie," Ara steps in.

Jason raises a hand to stop her and replies to the other boy. "You were a legion officer—A leader of Rome."

"So were you. Loyalties change."

"You think I belong with this crowd? A bunch of dead losers waiting for a free handout from Gaia, whining that the world owes them something?"

The crowd closes around him. Piper uses charmspeak. "Beware! Every man in this palace is your enemy. Each one will stab you in the back at the first chance!"

"Dearest, be sensible," Jason's mother insists. "Give up your quest. Your Argo II could never make the trip to Athens. Even if it did, there's the matter of the Athena Parthenos."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't feign ignorance, my dearest. Gaia knows about your friend Reyna and Nico the son of Hades and the satyr Hedge. To kill them, the Earth Mother has sent her most dangerous son—the hunter who never rests. But you don't have to die."

Jason looks at the girls, then back at his mother. "What do you want? What brought you here?"

"I want life! Youth! Beauty!" The woman leans in looking crazy. "Your father could have made me immortal. He could have taken me to Olympus, but he abandoned me. You can set things right, Jason. You are my proud warrior!"

"You're a mania," his voice quivers. "A spirit of insanity. That's what you've been reduced to."

"I am all that remains. Embrace me, son. I am all you have left."

"No!" Jason steps back. "My loyalties haven't changed. My family has just expanded. I'm a child of Greece and Rome. I'm no child of yours." He makes the claw sign over his chest and his mother vanishes.

"Well, then," Antinous sighs. "I suppose we'll just kill you."

Ara tosses the platter she's holding at some ghouls, expands her shield, and draws out Almighty. Her friends join her and pull out their weapons. Watching Jason fight when angry, is one of Ara's favorite things. He throws amazing one-liners, like the one he uses when he pierces Antinous through the chest: "Enjoy the Fields of Punishment."

Jason and Ara run through their opponents fast and mercilessly, with clear progress in their teamwork after eight months of knowing each other. The boy summons lightning while Ara keeps changing her weapon to different things, Annabeth jabs and beheads, and Piper tosses food at the spirits while shouting stuff using charmspeak.

Jason lowers his sword only a second and Michael Varus stabs him with rage before Piper kills him. Ara drops Almighty in shock. Piper tries to pull out the sword but Ara shouts at her in a commanding voice. "Don't! That'll make him bleed out faster!"

"But—"

"Gods..." Annabeth gets to them, pale and shaky. "Oh, gods."

"Thanks," Jason sinks to his knees. "I was afraid it might be bad."

"Piper, press around the wound—Annabeth, get help."

"You're going to be fine," Piper tells the boy. "Girls, ambrosia!"

Ara draws her Octopi from under her cloak and hands it to Piper. "Don't do anything yet, hang on—"

"Imperial gold," Annabeth stammers. "It's deadly to demigods. It's only a matter of time before—"

"The Argo!" Ara urges her. "Send them a message!"

"Iris messages won't work—"

"Leo is watching, you don't need those!"

"Morse code," Piper pulls out a tiny mirror from Ara's Octopi and hands it to Annabeth. "Here."

Ara grabs her sister's head and kisses the top of it. "Clever!"

Annabeth goes away and Ara tries to ignore how Jason's looking as she kneels before him. "How many times I've saved your ass, Jay-G?"

"Don't call me that," Jason grunts. "And the answer is too many."

"You have no survival instincts man, I keep telling you," Ara rips his shirt open and sees the tip of the sword protruding from his abdomen. Fear starts to seep through. "He's not coughing blood so no organs were touched... maybe. This will hurt, blondie." She looks at Piper. "Pull it out."

Piper pretends she'll count to three, and pulls it at one. Jason crumbles swearing like he's never done before.

"We gotta stop the bleeding," Ara stops him from squirming too much.

The girls rip parts of their dresses and press them against both sides of his wound. Ara sings her heart out, and now Piper knows the healing tune, so Ara hears her singing voice for the first time, which is much nicer than hers and therefore more effective.

"Keep singing!" Ara makes her old mixture of ambrosia and nectar, but there's no time to wait, so she pours it raw over the wounds. "Hang in there, Jason, don't fall asleep."

The boy barely reacts, which is not a good sign. Piper rolls him over and pours the rest at the other end of the wound. Ara tries to keep him awake and cradles his face. "You know, for a moment I feared my dad would show up but I guess he prefers to stay dead. At least your mother kind of loved you!" She jokes, but her voice falters.

Jason shakes his head. "It wasn't a part of her I could save. Don't count your blessings, Birdy, your dad might be waiting for you in Athens."

"And I'm sure you'd like to meet him so you can personally kick his ass, so keep your eyes open!" Ara searches through her Octopi bag, smearing blood on it, and pulls out bandages to keep the pieces of fabric in place. "Annabeth!" She calls anxiously.

Jason sits up groggily. "Maybe I could fly ..."

"Don't move!" Ara says sharply. "Gee, you get hit on the head multiple times and—"

"Shut up!" Jason scowls. "Gods, kind of wish I had died so you would drop the joke already..." It's the first time the boy snaps in such a way, so he must be in a lot of pain. Pain is good, it means his body is still responsive.

Ara laughs despite how frightened she is and Jason matches her grin. "Yeah, at least it wasn't a head injury this time, huh? I stayed conscious the entire fight..."

"You defeated, like, two hundred enemies," Piper kisses his temple, keeping pressure on his wound. "You were scary amazing."

"You guys helped."

"You're welcome," Ara nods solemnly. "If you're lucky this will make Leo stop switching your camp shirts with Hazel's."

"I knew it! I should anoint Nico as my new best friend..." Jason winces. "Oh gods—Reyna, Nico, and Coach Hedge, they're in danger. We need to warn them."

"We'll take care of it when we get back to the ship," Piper eases him. "Your job right now is to relax. Besides, those three are a tough group. They'll be fine."

"Fuck!" Ara exclaims. Jason's injury has dark smoke coming out of it. "The stupid lullaby isn't working!"

"Ara," Piper says in a careful tone. "You need to stay calm."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," she holds Jason's hand, trying to absorb something, but nothing comes out. "Look at me, tough guy," she snaps her fingers, but Jason's dilated pupils hardly focus on her face and she swallows a cry. "Jason, please, don't do this to me..."

"Annabeth's coming back," Piper announces.

The girl walks up to them dragging her foot. Jason looks at her with half-lidded eyes, he's getting weaker. "Are you hurt?"

"It's fine. Just the old break from the Roman caverns. Sometimes when I'm stressed... That's not important. I signalled Leo. Frank's going to change form, fly up here and carry you back to the ship. I need to make a litter to keep you stable."

Annabeth and Ara work together, the younger girl passes the materials while Annabeth weaves. "How are you doing that?" Jason asks in awe.

"Learned it during my quest under Rome," Annabeth mumbles completely focused on the task. "I'd never had a reason to try weaving before, but it's handy for certain things, like getting away from spiders..."

Ara turns Almighty into a rectangular shield (the one Leo made is circular and wouldn't support Jason's body properly) and places it above the harness made with pieces of cloth and leather straps. Ara stands on it and pulls.

"Sturdy enough," she steps out.

"Wait," Jason stops them. "A bed—There was a special bed in this palace."

Ara frowns. "So what?"

"The marriage bed was sacred. If there was any place you could talk to Juno... Juno!"

Ara only cares about getting him out, but then in the distance, an olive tree spurts out into view. "Great, we definitely should waste our time talking..." She groans.

"My heroes," Juno greets them.

"Hera," Piper mutters.

"Juno."

"Whatever," Annabeth scowls. "What are you doing here, Your Bovine Majesty?"

"Annabeth Chase. As charming as ever."

"Yeah, well, I just got back from Tartarus, so my manners are a little rusty, especially towards goddesses who wiped my boyfriend's memory, made him disappear for months and then—"

"Honestly, child. Are we going to rehash this again?"

"Aren't you supposed to be suffering from split-personality disorder? I mean—more so than usual?"

"Whoa," Jason tries to sit up and fails. "Juno, we need your help. We—" he makes a guttural noise and falls back.

"First things first," Piper says firmly. "Jason is hurt. Heal him!"

"Some things even the gods cannot heal," the goddess raises a brow. "This wound touches your soul as well as your body. You must fight it, Jason Grace... you must survive."

"Yeah, thanks... I'm trying," he pants.

"That was super helpful," Ara remarks. "But if you could please just give us more intel..."

"I am grateful that you called upon me. I have spent weeks in a state of pain and confusion... my Greek and Roman natures warring against each other. Worse, I've been forced to hide from Jupiter, who searches for me in his misguided wrath, believing that I caused this war with Gaia."

"Gee, why would he think that?" Annabeth taunts her.

"Fortunately, this place is sacred to me," the goddess ignores her. "By clearing away those ghosts, you have purified it and given me a moment of clarity. I will be able to speak with you—if only briefly."

"Why is it sacred...? Oh. The marriage bed!" Piper exclaims.

"Marriage bed? I don't see any—"

"The bed of Penelope and Odysseus. One of its bedposts was a living olive tree, so it could never be moved."

"Who cares?" Ara exclaims impatiently. "Lady Juno, please!"

"Sail around the Peloponnese. As you suspect, that is the only possible route. On your way, seek out the goddess of victory in Olympia. She is out of control. Unless you can subdue her, the rift between Greek and Roman can never be healed."

"You mean Nike?" Annabeth frowns. "How is she out of control?"

"Explaining would take too long. I must flee before Jupiter finds me. Once I leave, I will not be able to help you again."

"What else should we know?" Jason asks hoarsely.

"As you heard, the giants have gathered in Athens. Few gods will be able to help you on your journey, but I am not the only Olympian who is out of favor with Jupiter. The twins have also incurred his wrath."

"Artemis and Apollo? Why?"

"If you reach the island of Delos, they might be prepared to help you. They are desperate enough to try anything to make amends. Go now. Perhaps we will meet again in Athens, if you succeed. If you do not..."

Juno vanishes and Jason faints.

Ara takes her friend straight to the sickbay and does her best to bring him back, she gets more blood on her clothes but in the end, the dark smoke diminishes. Jason is sleeping now, but he looks dead and ironically that makes her want to kill something.

Piper says she'll call the others for a meeting, but Ara suspects she just wants a moment alone to cry the stress out and pick herself up. Ara should've kept an eye on Michael Varus.

Someone knocks on the door and when she turns she spots Leo staring at her with worry. "Is that..."

"It's his." Her eyes brim with tears and Leo approaches her quickly. Ara releases all of that pent-up anxiety, burying her face in his curls as he wraps his arms around her waist. "I couldn't absorb his pain, he's dying..."

Leo hushes her. "He's with us, he'll be okay."

She tries to keep him away when he tries to hug her tighter. "I'm covered in blood—"

"That's okay," the boy keeps her in place. "We can wash up later."

Her grip is weak. "Juno said something about Apollo, maybe we can—"

"Shut up," Leo stares at her as if searching for something. Ara waits in confusion. The boy strokes her cheek, outlining the dry blood on her skin. "What are you feeling?"

The girl blinks. "What?"

"Eros said you needed to reconnect with your emotions, right? So before you go back to being a General, talk about your feelings," he raises his brows. "So?"

Ara blushes at his sweet gesture. "I'm scared and remorseful, but I'll have to push through it, I can't change the past."

"You sure you don't wanna call your dad?" He tries to joke. "We can make a short stop at the next gas station and give him a call."

Ara pouts and sniffs. "Man, don't even... if I think about home I'll be sobbing like a baby for another hour."

Leo looks at her not knowing what to do to help her, then sighs. "My guy Jason... always gets the worst deal, huh?" He makes a face. "I'll have to fix the showerheads."

The girl senses his awkwardness and smiles softly, leaning into his touch. "Do you know how much I love you?"

He visibly relaxes and grins. "Can't hurt if you say it again, can it?"

"I love you," she kisses his forehead. "A lot."

"Love ya' too, doll... But you reek like a butcher, go get a shower."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @asnyox-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

#twoidiots writing #pjo fanfic #leo valdez fanfic #doo #leo valdez x oc #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians

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thotpuppy · 4 months

Text

WIP Tag Game!

tagged by @dear-massacre ! AND @whimsicalmeerkat! WHIL i was writing my post lolol

This is sorta smth i track regularly? but i have it all sorted by word count akdgjkajdg it's part of my progress tracker server w some friends. Adding words is the easiest way to track 'working on a project' so that's what i do! I also have a (separate) doc in my drive folder that tracks just, general prompts, so when i have ideas i slap them in there.

Current (Teen Wolf) WIPs:

TriReign: Shepherd, Lamb, Wolf: small outline, chapters 1-4 complete, 5 wip - 16,575 - Sterek, Medieval Fantasy, Arranged Marriage, Omegaverse, Political Drama, Sex and Politics, Duty and Honor and Subterfuge, etc. my current current current WIP. Baseball AU: Collab? outline - 331. MOSTLY this is just. a Roster and some thoughts about a general plot concept. I want to illustrate this but i can't do a comic. It's also a Sterek concept. FratBoi Stiles x RA!Derek: 52 - this is just straight up a PWP with the prompt borrowed from a TWT moot that ive been meaning to work on for ages and just haven't yet. Higher Education 2: 2,821 Sciles, trans!Stiles, post-canon college AU. Also PWP, but also my gross unhygenic sloppy AU kinda. it's just. its grossnasty wet n sloppy porn. i wanted to finish this and then write a Third part for Sciles week this year and i didn't. whoops There's a Werewolf Tradition for That: 72 - Sterek didn't know they were dating AU. Alive!Hales but Werewolves are still a secret. Stiles and Derek are good friends and roommates, they're both idiots pining for each other, and out of the blue Derek's Mom sends them a formal invitation to celebrate their engagement. Stiles doesn't even know Derek's a werewolf. total ROMCOM, kinda inspired by My Big Fat Greek Wedding, but only in Vibes. Lone Wolf Wild West AU: Chapters 1, 2 posted, not outline - 3,670. Sterek, Lone Ranger!Derek, son of the sheriff Stiles. Mystery, adventure, romance. I miss cowboy...

Somewhere in here I will also put my Collabang fic and any other events i sign up for, because I'm gonna have to pause my major WIPs to work on them lol

1920's Mafia AU: Outline only - 1313 - Stiles is a city detective, the sheriff is the Police Commissioner, this takes place in Los Angeles. There are tunnels running all through the city, albeit underneath (real). There's been an uptick in gang activity lately. Stiles secretly 'runs' by which i mean, owns and protect, but isn't involved in Actually Running, an underground speakeasy in the heart of the city. He doesn't let any gangs runs their trouble on his turf. Until one day, a Hale is shot by an Argent right outside his doors. Sterek SuperBat ComicCon MeetCute: WIP One Shot - 1,049 Inspired by MultiE's art. nerd x nerd solidarity Sciles Ancient Greece AU: 192 - this is a friggin poem and is probably gonna stay a poem. New! Sex For Work: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4 - 23,228. Part 5? Sterek BDSM CEO x Personal Assistant AU. Originally intended to be kinky prompt fill series but Caught Plot. I meant to rewrite it last month to convert it into a standalone story, but uhhhh didn't. I DID do reformatting though. I just need to get writing on it again, but i tend to be kinda singleminded.

Other Fandom WIPs:

Big Blue Boyscout: 47 - Superman x Nightwing, xenophilia fic. "He's Big and Blue in more ways than one..." Bruce Wayne Visits Smallville: 685 - I got distracted while bingeing smallville for the first time and haven't gone back, but this was just supposed to be a one shot but my outline grew legs DP/YJ Crossover: 220 - this is more of a concept than a real specific fic, but i REALLY like comparing danny phantom to specifically the young justice animated series, and i wanted to try and come up with a cohesive clone comparison plot, rather than just making it a lil joke. Maybe it'll be Danny x Conner because himbo tee shirt conner is my baby boy baby boy Not So Blushing, Not So Virgin: 40 - SuperBat role reversal where everyone expects clark to be this sweet inexperienced things and then he absolutely blows bruce's back out.

Hiatus Projects:

Universal Law of Gravitation: Chapter 1 WIP, significant outline - 3,080 - Sterek Lifetime fic. I wrote out this huge long super comprehensive timeline and got super caught up in it. It's supposed to be about how, despite their best efforts, Stiles and Derek just can't stay apart, so there are a ton of messy breakups and fights in between. I just never put together an actual proper Plot, so when i started writing it, i got SUPER bored. It has a playlist! and i made a bunch of pseudo-science chapter titles hehe A Fever You Can't Sweat Out: Chapter 1 posted, Chapter 2 WIP, significant outline - 9,911 - Sterek, Marrish, Scallison, post-canon AU, surprise mpreg! Similarly to ULG, i wrote out a huge big timeline and outline and got super nitty gritty into the details, but literally Chapter One i went Off Track and it just killed my motivation. It's HUGELY ensemble, and i picked out jobs and hobbies for like 12 people to all live in a big ol estate together. It also suffered from "world building but no plot", but i DID try to make a plot, it just. wasn't good haha. The entire concept is, Lydia gets pregnant which makes Allison baby crazy so she gets pregnant and Stiles wants a baby so, so bad, but he's dating dating/married to Derek and therefore would have to adopt or something, but he wants it so bad he magics himself up a contraception.

Prompts!

Derek is moody, Stiles teases him about the fact he like, never smiles. Kisses him on a whim to get a rise out of him. And then proceeds to have a existential crisis after because "oh shit did he just kiss DEREK".

Werewolf!Stiles’ Pavlovian Pleasure Response to Scott’s Click (iykwim)

Stiles x Jeep crack smut oneshot

Post Nogi stiles is having trouble feeling like himself again. he feels a sharp disconnect with his Self that he didn't used to have, like he's lost touch with his humanity. He needs someone to remind him how it feels to be human.

unspecified/platonic - In this kind of weather, it makes more sense to stay inside. Or rather, stay inside somewhere else. Stiles sets up shop in a bookstore's cafe to while away the time warm espresso, a good book, and his own company. Until Someone/Something Else comes knocking.

Supernatural Boarding school (circa 2005-2009 role-play forum vibes)

Bastard Prince Jackson and Freedom Fighter Stiles (see doc)

Stiles’ mythology professor bites off more than either can chew - The Great Beacon Hills Custody Battle

“Teenage Dirtbag” Loser!Stiles Sterek fic

all of my prompts literally only exist in a single document where i put Ideas i like adkgjakjg everything in wips has a dedicated doc, but most of them dont have much written yet.

There's also 1 absent prompt here that im now saving for the collabang so ive omitted it from my counts because its technically a wordcount of 0 until i get to start working w my artist (:

no pressure tags! @renmackree @lavender-lotion @like-lazarus @geekmom13 @endwersed

#my writing #ugh my wip pile is ever growing.........

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haitaniapologist · 2 years

Text

COUNTING SINS.

╰┈➤ many were the names that helen of troy was called by the poets. the most beautiful woman in greece, a daughter and a sister of kings and gods, an evil witch, a whore. but she was just a girl torn between love and duty, wasn't she? just like you. exactly like you. but there weren't guns in ancient greece, and the trojan war could never be compared by the bloodshed that could happen in tokyo if you fell in love with the wrong person — especially being married to his worst enemy, and brother.

pairings — izana kurokawa x fem!reader x sano manjiro.

chapter warnings — reader is the youngest haitani, arranged marriage, stalking, yandere & possessive behaviour, emotional cheating, age gap relationship (reader is five years younger than izana), toxic relationship.

next chapter — masterlist (taglist form can be found there)

BOOK ZERO: DYNASTY.

verse one

kurokawa izana had always been a constant presence in your life since you were thirteen, but you never thought you would end up married to him.

when your brothers got arrested, you were left alone in your childhood house. with absent parents and now two incarcerated older brothers, you didn't know what to do with your life — you knew ran and rindou had a good reason to kill that guy, but they never told you. you were their small and cute little sister, and you should never be involved in what they did. you were supposed to get a degree and leave the country as soon as you could, but after the formation of the s-62 generation, such a plan wouldn't be possible.

they left juvie after one year away from you, and you couldn't be happier when they returned. but your brothers seemed different, and not a good kind of different — they made new friends in juvie, friends which they only allowed you to meet when you were old enough, and they were quite scary for a thirteen-year-old girl.

but not izana.

izana was always kind, always with easy smiles and a gift for you. it didn't matter if he or your brothers were covered in blood — they would never be scary as mucho or shion, and you would never need to hide behind rindou afraid that izana would hurt you. he always made you laugh and feel comfortable, and soon, you saw yourself thinking about him more than you should. he was ran's age and his and rindou's friend, of course he would never see you as anything more than a little sister. ran and rindou would never let you be involved with a guy like that, even if he was their friend.

but you were thirteen, and you were in love. what were you supposed to do more than dream? none of the boys at your school had eyes that shone like izana's orchid ones, none of them made your heart race just with a smile.

izana was just being kind, but you enjoyed it, nonetheless.

you always thought your crush on him died while you grew up — you left your parents' house to live with your brothers in their shared apartment, went to high school and tried to meet new people. you had a few boyfriends, of course, but they were always scared away by a force that you knew wasn't your brothers. as much as they were protective of you, they would never do anything that you didn't ask for.

you never knew, but it was izana.

you were his, even if you didn't know that yet. no other man would ever touch you, and he would wait years until you noticed that.

verse two

izana waited for almost ten years to be able to finally call you his.

he never did anything when you were younger — your brothers would kill him if they knew he deflowered you, and he needed to make both ran and rindou his trusted advisors before claiming you as his. maybe it was his influence or your surname that kept men away from you, but he couldn’t care less. izana would make sure he was your first everything. your first kiss, the first man you had sex with, the first man you loved.

the first man you would kill for.

it took him more time than he intended, but, at twenty-seven, he finally managed to convince your brothers about an alliance.

bonten was a growing gang. as the younger brother of the infamous sano shinichiro, all the underworld knew that kurokawa izana was a dangerous man, someone to not mess with. and having such a reputation meant that no one would do anything when his men started to kill his enemies, or how he would strike alliances with gang leaders that were too powerful to bend the knee before anyone — that is, before izana came into the picture. his honeyed words and cruel ways were what made him climb to the top, despite sano manjiro’s growing gang, too.

toman was what prompted him to talk with your brothers.

izana knew he should keep his close circle glued to him. kakucho was his childhood friend, his servant — he would never leave. mucho and shion were the same, almost. he could keep them at his side with promises of honor and money. ran and rindou were more volatile, and izana knew that, once, the haitani brothers ruled roppongi alone. they were friends, of course, but he couldn’t make a deal over something as feeble as friendship. he was sure they would leave bonten for toman if manjiro offered more money or more rentable business.

he couldn’t let that happen.

ran and rindou were too powerful as a duo, and they knew too much as well. if they decided to switch sides, it would be izana’s downfall.

and what was the better way to make their bond even stronger than becoming one big family? they weren’t fools to say no to their king, but izana noticed how surprised they were at the suggestion. maybe they were already making plans of leaving bonten and betraying izana, and such a thought made his blood boil — but he masked it with an amicable smile, hands on their backs, and the offer of a glass of an old whisky that he didn’t share with anyone else.

the talks about the marriage were fairly well. ran and rindou, always the protective older brothers, said they had nothing against it and that you would marry him, but they wanted it to not be perceived as something imposed for you — you should, at least, agree to marry him on your own terms. they didn’t care if izana courted you as if he was an emperor, or if he just talked with you. but you should say yes first, even though they would make everything on their grasp to influence your decision to be one of agreement.

izana could only smile at them, happy that everyone was on the same page.

the first thing he did the next morning was text you. it was something simple, apologizing for not being able to talk much with you, and asking if you wanted to have dinner with him at night.

how could you say no when you were waiting for another text of his for weeks?

verse three

you were easily wooed by izana.

how could you not? you didn’t know that, but he made sure that all the guys that even dared to try something with you gave up in the first try. you were so naive, so innocent — it ignited something inside him the way you would blush and avoid his eyes whenever he complimented you, or how you would melt when he touched your skin. your giggles were music to his ears, and your moans were the most angelic sound he ever heard.

he had you falling for him in six months.

something that was a childhood crush for you became a feeling that you never felt before, and it almost overwhelmed you at how much you cared for him. you always wanted to see a smile on izana’s face, doing everything he asked you to, and you were sure your girl friends were tired of hearing you sighing and telling them how good of a boyfriend he was. he made you feel like you were the moon who shone on his sky, the one that brought light to his darkness, the one who made him feel there was still good on this world — and to some extent, you were. you were the one who kept izana glued to the ground, the one who always reminded him of who he was and what he could accomplish.

the problem was your brothers, of course. you didn’t know how they would react knowing that you were dating their boss, and you feared that your relationship with izana could ignite a war between your family and bonten. at first, you wanted to keep your relationship with him a secret, sneaking out to meet him as if you were a high schooler. but ran and rindou weren’t stupid, and they knew you weren't just going shopping when you arrived home with hickeys covering your collarbone and cum running down your legs.

but when izana proposed to you on your seven-month-old anniversary, with a ring that shined as bright as the stars in the sky, you didn’t think twice before saying yes.

that night, he made sure to have a chat with your brothers.

you were in your room, after your fiancé asked you to give him and his future brothers-in-law some privacy. “it isn’t as if i don’t trust you, my love.” he whispered, a hand amorously caressing your cheek. “but we need to have a talk from man to man. i hope you understand.” of course you did. if izana still had been in touch with his sister, you would’ve done the same — tell emma that you would love and cherish him, that you would never do anything that would bring harm to him.

but sano emma was another ghost in izana’s life, and the only person you could’ve done that was kakucho, who dismissed you from such a conversation when you tried, saying that he knew you were the best for izana.

the smile on your face was the happiest when rindou opened your bedroom’s door, no sight of injuries or an angry expression on his face, inviting you to have a drink in the living room. you happily accepted, eyes scanning the room in delight seeing that izana’s words managed to melt your brothers’ hearts — even though they still seemed to want to kill him when he made you sat on his lap and kissed your skin, they seemed to accepted your relationship with their boss as easily was someone accepts a rainy day.

you should’ve known better, but passion and lust were clouding your vision, glossing the sorrowful expressions the lilac eyes of your brothers had.

verse four

izana left all things related to the marriage in your hands.

from the place, to the decoration, to the songs and the celebrant — you did everything, and the satisfied smile on your face whenever he met you up to dinner was enough to make him happy. you understood why he couldn’t be there, of course. the leader of bonten didn’t have much time to do such frilly things and, since you didn’t have any female friends izana trusted, you dragged along kakucho and either ran or rindou with you. it was nice to see the three of them in another environment that wasn’t one filled with blood, guns and money.

in the end, you knew they were all the same — just boys who the universe didn’t smile upon. you were happy you were managing to give them a break.

after four months, you and izana were married.

it was an intimate ceremony, just for family and friends. izana made sure none of his enemies knew about the event, afraid that they were going to bring tragedy to a day he had dreamed about since he was a teenager.

and even though he had imagined such a day millions of times, nothing could compare to seeing you walking down the aisle, arm intertwined with ran and a bouquet of orchids, in the same shade of his eyes, being gripped by your hand. it took everything on him to not interrupt the celebrant and proclaim you two were married, because he couldn’t wait to finally call you his.

that day you became kurokawa y/n, and even though you would miss sharing the haitani surname with your brothers, you needed to admit that your husband’s one suited you better.

even though you knew the list of guests by heart, choosing them alongside kakucho, you noticed a pair of eyes that you never saw in your entire life — they were of an onyx color, and no emotion could’ve been extracted from them. the owner of such eyes, too, was someone you never saw, but you knew who was the only person who had a dragon tattooed on their neck, delicate traits that were mostly hidden by hair that had the same color of the sand.

you couldn’t understand why and what sano manjiro was doing in your wedding ceremony, but it appeared that you were the only one who saw — or rather, recognized — him. if izana or any of the bonten boys did, they didn’t say or do anything against toman’s leader.

and, even though you preferred dying than admitting your sins, you imagined he was the one making love to you when izana ripped you from your wedding dress that night.

verse five

married life was nothing like you expected.

it seemed as if a switch flipped inside izana. from the loving and caring boyfriend he was in your dating months, he became cold and distant as soon as you two were back from the honeymoon. you were used to having dinner alone and waking up to a cold bed, already with the experience of living with your brothers — but ran and rindou always made an effort to know about your day and have a chat with you when they could.

but izana only paid attention to you when he wanted sex and, if wearing clothes you were uncomfortable with and making things you hated yourself from doing made your husband look at your direction with eyes reflecting something more than boredom, you didn’t care about your feelings.

yet, whenever someone — especially your brothers — asked about your marriage, you always said izana was the best husband you could ask for.

because, besides not loving you as he used to do, he still spoiled you with all the riches in the world and made sure you were safe and sound from the gang wars and violence of his world. maybe that was his way of showing he still cared for you — izana, as well as the other bonten boys, had a difficult childhood, and you couldn’t blame him if he didn’t know how to show affection like the characters in the books you loved so much. but you wished he could, and you couldn’t help and think if the owner of onyx eyes could love you like that.

you felt bad for thinking about another man when your husband slept next to you, but you couldn’t help it. you were a hopeless romantic, denied of everything you always dreamed of.

you endured such a life for a year, until some notes started to appear in your things. they were always sweet, saying how beautiful you were, how much the sender loved you. at first, you thought it was your husband — but comparing handwriting, you knew it wasn’t him. which made everything more dangerous, but also more thrilling.

were you cheating on your husband? you couldn’t tell.

but when the first signed letter arrived, you knew you were too deep in it, and maybe you wouldn’t have enough strength to deny the owner of onyx eyes what he wanted.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #kurokawa izana x reader #izana kurokawa x reader #kurokawa izana #izana kurokawa #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro sano x reader #sano manjiro #manjiro sano #mikey x reader

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apolyian-alluvial · 2 years

Text

n o c t u a r y {three}

n o c t u a r y {linked universe x reader}

chapter 3

---

“What’s an Apollo?” Wind asks innocently.

Three words, but it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life. It takes all of your self-control not immediately to burst out laughing. What’s an Apollo? A god who thinks the world resolves around him because he pulls the sun—a god who never speaks to his children despite having seven of them. Someone’s who cruel, vain, and selfish.

“Apollo is my father,” you say, biting back a smile and bitterness in your voice. “Greek god of healing, light, archery, and music.”

“Bullshit,” Legend immediately says. “You’re making things up.”

“I don’t think Hyrule is a real country either, so either one of us lying or we’re both telling the truth.” You glare at Legend.

Time eases the situation once more. “It’s a god that seems to be unfamiliar to all of us.”

“What about Zeus?” you ask. Panic slowly starts to set in. Apollo is one of the most recognizable gods, practically the face of Greek mythology. If you have traveled to a land without them, how are you supposed to get back home? “Hades? Artemis?”

Warriors visibly perked up. “I know an Artemis! It’s what I call my Zelda.”

“Your who?” Part of you felt horrified that the name of Artemis was used for a simple nickname. You and your siblings may have a fierce rivalry with the hunters of Artemis, but you all respect the goddess herself deeply.

“There’s no Princess Zelda in your world?” Wild asks curiously.

“If there’s no Apollo here, why should I have a Princess Zelda,” you say harshly. After seeing Wild’s subtle recoil, guilt churns in your stomach. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Neither do we!” Wind pipes up unhelpfully.

Twilight’s hand on your shoulder startles you. “Why don’t you sit down? We can explain everything while Wild cooks dinner.” He guides you to a half-moss-covered log in front of the cooking pot. You easily settle onto the log, hands immediately picking at the green plant. Twilight sits down beside you while the rest of the group finds their own spots to sit.

Time takes the spot directly across from you. “Our story is a confusing and hard one…” You listen with adept attention as he explains all nine of them possess the hero spirit reincarnated across different timelines and centuries, each one specifically chosen by the goddess Hylia. Often guided by their own Princess Zelda, they all defended their home from a great evil, most of them facing an evil spirit named Ganon. There’s more to the story, references to master swords, forest spirits, and other gods, but your mind is whirling too fast to keep up with the details.

“And now, Hylia has chosen us for another mission. A great shadow has risen from the darkness and spread across all of our worlds. It has infected monsters, turning their blood black, and broken time and space. We must stop the Shadow before it destroys all of our worlds,” Time finishes, creating a tense atmosphere.

You look at the group and see a bunch of tired heroes. You’ve seen it in older demi-gods, those who’ve fought their entire life to survive, who are tired and just want a peaceful, happy ending. It makes part of your ache to see them wear the same weariness. Especially Wind, who can’t be more than fourteen, and looks so much like some of your siblings.

“What about you?” Time asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. “What has led you to us?”

Your fingernails scrape against dry bark, you’ve picked your part of the log clean of moss. You settle on twisting your fingers around the clay bead necklace hidden under your shirt. “I am a child of Apollo, Greek god of healing, light, archery, and a lot of other things. The Greek gods come from Ancient Greece. There’s no Hylia or three golden goddesses at all in my world, just the twelve Olympians and a bunch of minor gods, goddesses, and nature spirits. I’m not sure how exactly they came about, but people used them to explain things, like lightning, hurricanes, volcanic eruptions, love, nature stuff, a lot of stuff really.

But sometimes, the gods and goddesses come down from their home, Mount Olympus, and have children with mortals. My mother said she was approached by my father when she was studying microbiology at university. They dated for about six months, and then I was born.” You shrug helplessly. Your mother never liked to talk about your father and their time together. “The gods having children is kinda common, so Camp Half-Blood was built. It’s a place for us to be safe against monsters and other threats. We learn sword fighting, archery, and can pick up hobbies like smithing, canoeing, or rock climbing. There’s always a lot to do at camp.”

You look up to meet the surprised expressions of many of the group. Wind looks especially comical with his eyebrows raised to his hairline and agape mouth. “That’s so cool,” he breathes. “Are you a god?”

You chuckle. “No, not at all, I’m a -”

“Demi-god,” Time answers for you.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, staring at Time, wondering how he knew. “I’m a demi-god, half mortal, half god.”

“So how did you end up here?” Legend asks, tone impatient. He’s leaning against a log, one knee propped up.

You tighten your grip around your necklace, tempted to rip it off in your irritation at the man. “I’d figured you might want an explanation about the gods of my world first.”

Twilight touches your elbow to ease your ire. He offers you a smile. “Continue?”

“Demi-gods sometimes go on quests. I was sent on one by my father for Lady Hecate, goddess of magic and crossroads. She lost a magical rod in a forest in Vermont, so I was sent to retrieve it. I found it, but I-” you wince, your failure fresh in your mind. “It got broken when I was attacked by a few monsters. After it broke, the shadow thing showed up and dragged me through a bunch of purple light. And then I ended up here.”

“Where’s the magical rod?” Legend demands.

If he opens his mouth one more time, you will absolutely fight him. “I will stab you in the kidneys.”

“Legend, quit tormenting our guest,” Time says with a frown.

Legend sputters. “As if you could get a hit on me.”

A comeback burns at the tip of your tongue, eager to be released, but you know that continuous fighting with someone who could potentially help you is not a good idea. Instead, you just smile widely at him, an odd tactic you learned from the Athena cabin to creep out your opponents. It evidently works on Legend who immediately tears his gaze away, even shifts his body away from you.

Time turns his frowny face to you. “Earlier you said the shadow claimed you were part of his plan.”

You can’t hide anything from them now. “He called me his sacrificial light.”

“Well…” Warriors starts, being the first one to recover from the news. “That’s new.”

“We have another piece of the Shadow’s plan, but his intentions are still unclear,” Four sighs. “Why can’t our quests be simple for once?”

“Because who else would be Hylia’s personal chew-” Legend’s remark is cut off by Wild loudly announcing dinner is ready. There’s a sudden scramble of movement as everyone tries to get to the cooking pot first. You stay, content on your log to watch as the heroes eagerly accept their dinner portion from the cook.

Now that all the attention is off of you, you feel like you can finally breathe. There’s no more weight of eight stares resting on your shoulders. The pain in your head has diminished slightly. You feel as though you can finally think clearly. It’s not something you want to do at the moment. The necklace you’re playing with and the yellow backpack in your lap is a reminder of home you can’t return to just yet. You should feel despair, frustration, and resentful, but you don’t feel anything, not even the urge to punch your father. You just want to go home.

A bowl is shoved into your hands, snapping you out of wallowing. The curly brown-haired boy, Hyrule, smiles lopsidedly at you. Based on his looks alone, he could be a child of Hermes. “After you eat, I’d like to check you over once more, then you can go to bed.”

You accept the bowl, enjoying the warmth it gives off. “Okay. Thanks.” A lesson you learned quickly growing up was not to argue with healers.

Part of you feels wrong to eat without sacrificing a part to the gods, to your father. It’s custom at Camp and to a year-round camper like yourself, it’s something you’ve done at every meal. But another part of you feels vindictive. Why should you offer some of your food to the gods? They’re the ones who got you into this mess. You eat quietly, unbothered by the hushed and exuberant conversations happening simultaneously around you.

When you finish eating, your bowl is whisked away and you’re guided by Hyrule back inside. He settles you back on your bed. You take a moment to take off your shoes, slightly embarrassed that you were sleeping on Twilight’s bed (presumably) with your dirty converses on. With gentle hands, Hyrule prods at your shoulder and head, asking a few questions here and there, a routine you’re far used to.

“You have to forgive Legend,” Hyrule says quietly between questions. “He’s had the most adventures out of all of us, and they have not been kind to him. He’s a bit wary around strangers…We all are…”

“You seem to be doing fine,” you point out.

The little lopsided smile is back on Hyrule’s face. “I’m one of the least trusting of strangers as well, but my need to help you far outweighs the distrust.”

“That’s a bit shitty, isn’t it?”

Hyrule shrugs. “That’s the hero spirit for you. Your shoulder and head have no external injuries, but if anything hurts, just let me know.”

“Thank you,” you say earnestly.

“Of course. You should get some rest. In the morning, Time will have decided on what’s the best way to help you,” Hyrule says. It’s not a comforting thought to think about. “Good night, sleep well.” Quietly, he exits the tree house, leaving you alone.

You settle down on the too soft bed and fur blankets. Like most demi-gods, your dreams are not pleasant. As you toss in turn, drifting in and out of consciousness, you’re haunted by glowing red eyes.

---

You’re already awake when Twilight steps into the treehouse at dawn. If he’s surprised by your wakefulness, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he collects you and shows you where you could take a bath, giving you a towel and a change of clothes. You flush hot with embarrassment when you realize the bathing area is just a blocked-off watering hole. You’ve had baths in worse conditions, but it’s still daunting to know that a bunch of strangers are within walking distance.

You wash quickly, eager to get out of your dirty traveling clothes. Twilight had given you a long, dark yellow tunic that nearly reached your knees with a piece of cream-colored fabric to wrap around your waist, tied off with a thin piece of leather. The dark brown pants had to be rolled up a little but fit you otherwise. You put your converses back on and walked back to Twilight’s house.

Wild was once more in front of the cooking pot, dutifully watching as Wind cut up several apples. Hyrule kneeled beside a sleeping Sky, gently shaking the teen awake while Four stood nearby, hiding behind a shield. Legend sat on the ground, sorting through a box with numerous rings inside. Time, Twilight, and Warriors stood off to the side, talking in hushed voices.

Twilight broke off from the conversation upon seeing you. “I was right,” he smiles. “Yellow does suit you.”

You look down at the tunic, pulling at the ends of it. “Yeah, thank you for the clothes.”

“Of course,” Twilight says. “You can keep them. I have no use for them anymore.”

“You’ll need them,” Warriors inputs, looking up and down critically. “And a good pair of boots. Maybe a spare change of clothes as well.”

There’s a sinking sensation in your stomach. “What for?”

Time clears his throat. “We have decided, that it would be best for all of us if you traveled with us.”

“Just until you can get me home?” you ask, voice rising in pitch. “Even if you don’t know how, someone else you know will be able to, right?”

Time shifts awkwardly. “We do not know how long you will travel with us, but it is for the best. If the Shadow is after you, we are able to protect you.”

“I can protect myself just fine!” you snap.

“We have no doubts about it,” Twilight soothes. “But if you travel with us, we can guarantee the Shadow does not take you and use you in whatever plan he has, while also giving us peace of mind regarding the safety of our Hyrules. Along the way, we’ll try our best to find a way to send you home.”

“It won’t take that long, will it?” The desperation is clear in your voice. Fear clings to your chest like a snake trying to squeeze its prey. It took you a day and a half to reach the forest in Vermont. You’ve been in this new world for roughly two days now. You were supposed to have been back at Camp by now, spending your last moments at your home with your siblings.

“I cannot say for sure,” Time says. “It depends on who’s Hyrule we’re in and our location.”

“You weren’t this hysterical last night,” Legend comments from his log, oh-so-helpfully.

“I was probably in shock last night,” you say snappishly. “I have a life I need to get back to. I have a family, a home. I’m supposed to go off to school in just a few days!”

Time clasps your shoulder. A grimace is set across his face. “I’m sorry. None of us had the choice to be here either.”

You watch as Time walks away with a glower on your face, the direness of your situation finally resting upon your shoulders. Your hands curl by your sides, itching to punch something or stab something. But you know that it's no one’s fault here. The heroes here are tools to their goddess as much as you are to your own gods. You flop down onto the log bench from last night, staring off into the distance sulkily.

“You all better gear up,” Twilight calls out, a wolfish grin on his face. “We’re heading to my Castle Town.”

---

You stay at the end of the group. It’s not that you don’t trust the group of heroes (barring Legend, of course), but you rather keep most of them in your sight while traveling. It’s just your luck that there’s quite a few stragglers in the group as well. The short one, Four walks at nearly the same pace as you. Warriors, however, is internally walking slow, being the one to bring up the rear of the group. From his stiff stance and darting eyes, you can only assume that he’s on the lookout for danger.

And for how loud the group is, someone has to be. Twilight had said the road to Castle Town is fairly safe, giving the others no guilt in their loud laughter and jokes. You don’t mind their conversations, their cheerful energy is almost pleasing in a way. The other quests you’ve been on had been grim with no time for pleasantries. The familiar relationship they all share with each other is fascinating to watch.

A voice by your side rips you from your observing. “There’s no way your sword is diamond.”

You look down at Four, eyebrow raised, slightly surprised that he knew what material it was. “You sure it’s diamond?”

“I know it's diamond,” Four says, tone confident. “But it doesn’t make any sense to make a sword out of diamond! It’s a mineral, not a metal. It can chip easily, needs lots of upkeep, and can’t be repaired.”

You hum. “Oh really? Good thing it’s not diamond. It’s adamantine.”

Four pauses to stare at you in disbelief. “Adamantine? There’s no way.”

“That’s what my father said,” you say. “It was his sword from when he was young. It was probably made by Hephaestus, god of fire and blacksmiths.”

“Your father? The god?”

“The one and only.”

Four mumbles to himself under his breath. He seems conflicted, almost as if he’s debating with himself. He’s engrossed with his mumblings so you leave him be. Warriors increases his stride slightly to walk alongside you. “Whatever your sword is made of, we need to find some fabric to wrap it in, until we can get you a sheath. Having a sword that attractive out in the open might attract unwanted attention.”

You glance down at the weapon hanging by your side, then do the man’s polished armor and blue silk scarf. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know who would want to steal a sword though.”

“You’d be surprised,” Warriors says sagely.

The rest of the day passes by slowly. Four bothered you every now and then for a story about Hephaestus. He seemed fascinated by the god and quite amused by some of the stories. When you ran out of material, Four offered up his own stories, short little stories about his experience in smithing and of his adventures. By the time the two of you run out of things to say, it's close to sundown. Time calls for everyone to break for camp in a small clearing.

That night, when you set up your new bedroll, courtesy of Twilight, Four places his bedroll near yours. You place your belongings beside your pillow and the two of you exchange pleasant goodnights with each other. Your adamantine sword lay between the two of you, giving off a soft silvery-blue light against the darkness.

---------------------------

i swear it gets a little better after this chapter lol

#lu wind #lu twilight x reader #lu wild x reader #lu warriors x reader #lu time x reader #lu legend x reader #Lu Hyrule x reader #lu four x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe imagine #linked universe

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