#but his death was terrible without it being directly caused by his sexuality

[patcaps]

all the people wanting queer trauma porn who would’ve bet money on cap killing himself because he’s gay owe me £1000 btw. you fucking freaks

#suicide #suicide mention #since 2019 i have had to see these takes #and i’ve said all along they would Never do that to him #‘oh but historically men have done this’ ok but this is fiction #and comedy can have tragedy. so many of the other deaths are #and so is cap’s #but his death was terrible without it being directly caused by his sexuality #and shame surrounding it #you guys have been unbearable with it #quill to paper

[pterodactylterrace]

Okay. Let’s start unpacking, shall we?

Aemond: you feel bad he lost his eye and is now permanently disfigured and disabled. Because he claimed a dragon, and 4 other children took personal offense to it. As I have said before, THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE EVEN BEEN THERE. What were 4 children going to do if it was someone dangerous? Die? They never jump him, the whole thing never happens. When one party makes a clear mistake that caused something to happen, it tends to be their fault. They formed a mob and jumped another child over an imagined crime. Had they alerted the guard or stayed in bed, the whole thing would have been avoided. Also, Aemond only uses his “deadly weapon” after Jace whips out a knife. A knife he brought with him. He was planning for violence.

Daemon: killed his first wife, murdered and maimed hundreds of small folk without a trial, married his second wife of his own choice and still didn’t love her, fucked his niece at his wife’s funeral, groomed multiple young girls, almost beat a messenger to death and choked his third wife. That’s just season 1.

Rhaenyra: As I said before, NO ONE CARES THAT SHE HAD BASTARDS. We care that she put them in the succession, which is ILLEGAL. Pay attention when people talk. Literally no one cares she had kids with someone that wasn’t her husband. We care about the treason she pulled. We care about the constant lying. We care that she shows herself to be cruel to a recently maimed child. You really think the same woman that would suggest her younger brother be tortured wouldn’t have Cole gelded and beheaded if he told her father what she did? Ok, that’s a fantasy land. He owed his station directly to her choosing him. There was a huge power imbalance. We watch her continue stripping him while he stands frozen after telling her NO. That’s rape. It doesn’t matter that he eventually went along with it. She coerced him into doing it.

Aegon: We have a fragmented story of something that happened between him and the maid. It is assumed to be rape because Dyana drank moon tea. Her story is that she was getting him his wine, she put it in the table, and then she didn’t see him. She asked him to stop. It bugs me so much that people take this inference and decided Aegon did it, no questions asked, he is a terrible person, but what did Cole say again? Oh, Rhaenyra took his helmet to lure him into her chambers. Refused to give it back, blocked his exit when he tried to leave, ignored him when he says stop and then forces him to look at her. Switch the genders and it’s the exact same situation that happened with Aegon and Dyana, but we don’t see it happen. We watch Cole being assaulted, and people still want to sit there and say it was some romantic gesture. I’m sorry, but trying to leave and asking her to stop and not being able to look at her, is assault. He said “stop”, same thing Dyana said. But because the genders are reversed, Aegon is definitely guilty and evil (though we didn’t even see what happened) and Rhaenyra is just an innocent little thing that can do no wrong, even though we watch her sexually assault Cole.

Maybe we side with the green faction because we have the ability to understand words and shit? We can watch a scene and go “whoa, what was that?!” And realize that women are just as capable of being horrible people as men are? Just a thought.

#anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti team black #anti daemon targaryen #aemond targaryen #really Reddit? #hotd critical #hotd fandom

[sgt-morgan]

Stop Dead 🛑

Moonknight Masterlist

Description:Things with your moon boys can get heated. When it comes to their Passion, tension, tempers, etc. Heat rises, and with them the heights can be too the moon. What happens when a scary situation overwhelms you all, and it causes you to break.

Warnings: Angst, talk of blood, torture, blood loss and shock, crying, stitches, cannon typical violence, female pronouns given I believe? Could be wrong on that one, over stimulation (not in a sexual way), puking, just.. go with caution. reader puts themselves in a shitty situation and they know it.

A/N: I had a full scale breakdown the other day when I got sunpoisioning, thought of this. I hope y’all like this, if I jacked up the Spanish or references to DID or the system at large, please tell me. I don’t do this intentionally, and I want to fix if needed.

🌘🌔🌒

In all fairness, you had almost gotten yourself killed. Recklessness was one of your talents, and that knife looked like it would hurt, but better you than him, your mind rationalized. You knew Marc had the suit and would be fine, but you still don’t enjoy him being stabbed. Leaving without him you would admit, was a terrible choice, but you figured you could handle it, It was just a cult after all. You’d handled cults before, being an avatar yourself, it was nothing new. However, this one you would admit was overwhelming. You had expected something stupid and easy to wipe out, Instead you were met with an organization that seemed to be more interested in torture than worship. You could still smell the stench of rotting and putrid flesh, the tang of fresh blood. It was horrific, you had gotten in way over your head, and thankfully your boys came to the rescue, but you needed a chance to breathe, and by the gods they weren’t letting up.

You suppose you expected gratitude, you had just taken a knife for them. Instead, you got a lecture of epic proportions, and a brush with death you were having a really hard time shaking. Your injuries were totaled to bruised ribs, a black eye, a cut on your right cheek, a nasty headache, and the crowning jewel of a stab wound to your right shoulder blade. You holistically understood what a bad decision you had made, the reasoning of their anger. However, at the moment? Each and every little piece was adding up to what was going to be a meltdown of epic proportions, if they didn’t lay off soon.

Marc started the scolding. He Spit and cursed as you fought off the men, and at the beginning there, before the knife, you had quite a bit of bite to add into the conversation.

“Baby, what the fuck were you thinking!?” Marc yelled, dispatching the last of the first wave of assholes who got you into this situation.

“Don’t you fucking use that tone with me, Spector!” You yell, dispatching another asshole who came at your already pretty injured form.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot then!” Marc yells, throwing another moon shaped dart at an assailant, as you get into the thick of it again.

“Marc, you haven’t actually, truly slept in three days, Konshu had you dealing with something clear across the city, and unfortunately, I have my own nosy ass god I have to listen to hanging over my shoulder about this shit too. I didn’t really have the time!” You yelled kicking another crazy cultist directly in the head, sending him crashing to the floor. Your argument was half hearted at best.

Meanwhile, Marc was still yelling at you about your stupidity, and it was beginning to get on your nerves. Not that you didn’t see where he was coming from, but its honestly annoying and a bit hypocritical. The same man who constantly ran his body to the ground, and jumped head first into dangerous fire fights, was yelling at your inability to take care of yourself? Please.

You had a gash on your forehead that was rapidly leaking blood into your eyes, making everything harder to see, and had the added effect of slowly making you more and more exhausted. You were not to tired however, to see the man with the knife rapidly approaching your busy boyfriend.

“Marc LOOK OUT!” You screamed and threw yourself directly into the path of the knife the man had thrown, earning yourself a really nasty stab wound. You yanked the knife out with a yell, and fell to your knees. Watching as Marc’s suit shifted from his white suit to Jake’s black one.

The cultists did not lay off, even though they were clearly loosing. Jake quickly fronting after you had taken the knife for Marc, and took out the threat, as you lay dazed and bleeding in the warehouse you had busted into. Your head felt like mush, your limbs splayed put on the ground, a stupefied expression turned up to the ceiling with no sign of immediate movement on your part. The blood loss was getting to you, and it was starting to get really hard to think clearly. You heal quickly thanks to your avatarship, but you don’t heal nearly as fast as the boys do, and while you had stoped the heavy bleeding, it wasn’t quick enough to truly stem the blood loss you had already suffered. You felt like a dead slug, laying in your own sticky wet blood.

Jake however, was a ball of raw energy, with no directive and no good place to dissolve, so you took the brunt force of his left over blaze of glory. While his hands were incredibly gentle, his words were not, and they just kept flowing like water from a tap.

“¿Eres estúpido o qué? You could have been killed! pareces la muerte! That is probably the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever seen you do, and that’s saying some shit because I’ve seen you make a lot of bad decisions, Cariño. Eso fue lo más tonto que jamás hayas visto hacer.” He ranted like this the whole way home, altering between lewd Spanish curses, and scathing comments about your decision making skills. At least he drove careful so as to not jostle your injuries. You tuned him out mostly, head swimming in nausea and in guilt already without the added noise from one of your boyfriends being angry at you. “Clearly you can’t be trusted anymore, I’m gonna have to put a leash on you!” Oof, that one cut deep, and it just kept going from there.

You make it up the stairs with little to no energy, and when you enter the apartment and flop onto a chair, you’re greeted with Steven and a med kit at your shoulder. You’re so tired you didn’t even notice the switch, and In your muddled exhaustion from blood loss, Steven’s disappointed expression seems like a war crime. He steadily fixes your shoulder and mutters his disappointment at you but you keep nodding off, and in your dazed and exhausted state, the sweat and anxiety has settled in. All you want to do is sleep, but Steven’s rambling frustration is just feeding the pit in your chest. Your breathing gets more and more rapid as he talks too, the confusion in your fog filled brain getting worse by the second. The boys are too scared and angry to notice though, and it just keeps getting worse the guiltier Steven makes you feel.

“Love what we’re you thinking? That was a bit reckless, Innit? Just running a muck like that, you were gone and I was so worried! Now look, you’re bleeding and exhausted. You can’t do it all on your own! Don’t you trust us?” He intones making the last stitch, as you sip some juice and eat some crackers, trying to up your blood sugar enough to clear the fog. It’s not working as fast as it should though, and you’re still so out of it. “What if you had died? Do you want to leave us alone?” That was the last straw. You felt your inner dam break.

When you stood up so abruptly, Steve knew something was wrong. You shouldn’t be standing, you were clearly not in good health.

“Darling-“ Steve reached out for you, and you made almost a guttural, animal like noise in the back of your throat as you pushed off of him and stumbled to the bathroom. You knew somewhat subconsciously that you should sit down and just tell Steven you were overstimulated and exhausted. That you knew you had made a bad choice, but that you needed quiet. You just couldn’t seem to get your mouth to cooperate. You were whimpering, and struggling, and clawing your way across the room, stomach and head churning.

Steven followed you almost in a daze of his own, as you stumbled into your small bathroom and slammed the door behind you, locking him out. That’s when the horrible retching began. The over stimulation, blood loss, and guilt were finally catching up to you, and you were messed up to say the least. You didn’t even bother turning on the lights as you sobbed and heaved, brain still in a terrible fog you couldn’t shake. Eventually, stomach empty, you lay on the floor of the bathroom, still crying and making awful groaning noises and sobs. You were slowly starting to become more aware of your surroundings, your body finally healing quicker and beginning to catch up to the situation. You lay against the cool tile of the floor, unconsciously making soft whimpering noises with your eyes closed. To say you were overwhelmed would be an understatement, the guilt giving way to sadness as you lay there. You were too tired to unlock the door, and too exhausted to try and form words, so you just lay there, letting the cool darkness seep into you, letting it relieve your sweaty, exhausted body as slowly but surely the divine nature of your being an avatar did its work.

Meanwhile, Steven was locked out, and needless to say, terribly worried. He tried the door twice, and when he realized there was no getting through, he desperately turned to the others for help, catching his reflection in the mirror.

“What do I do?” He stammered, meeting Marc’s equally bewildered face.

“I- I don’t know? Never had this happen before.” Marc stuttered, seemingly just as concerned as Steven.

“She’s lost a lot of blood, and her body is trying to catch up.” Jake muttered from a reflection in Gus’ tank. “Dame el cuerpo.” As the alter who often took the most physical punishment, Jake felt like the right choice to deal with the matter. Marc was acting skittish and stand off-ish in the face of such scary emotions, and frankly, nobody could blame him. So, feeling helpless in the situation, Steven relented immediately.

Jake came to, and took a deep breath, releasing on a sigh. He stood for a moment, and took an internal review of the situation at hand. His mind played out your injuries, and took stock of your blood loss, noting that it was a significant level, he reviewed your symptoms, the paling of your skin, the sweating, the shaking, the confusion. You were in shock, and coming down fast. So, he prepared as quickly as possible, grabbing juice, some more crackers, a cool cloth, a blanket, and a shirt for you to change into. He knew that as an avatar you heal fast, but nowhere near as fast as he did, so he made sure to grab anything that could aid in the process. Then he carefully made his way to the door, setting all of the stuff right next to him on the ground where he knelt, head and palm of his hand pressed to the door. Now came the hard part, getting you to open the door. Normally, he would just kick it in or pick the lock, but not knowing where you were in the room or what state you were in, he didn’t want to barge in and risk hurting or startling you further.

“Querida, can you hear me?” He softly asked, trying to get through to you, the firm wood of the door resting reassuringly against his skin. He sat with silence for a minute, not hearing a response from you. He was beginning to worry you had passed out, when he got a small whimper in response. “Mijita, can you open the door? You’re hurt, and I want to help, but you have to open the door.” Jake waited with baited breath, letting out a sigh or relief when he heard the lock click. Slowly opening the door, he found you curled in on yourself near the tub. “Oh, cariño, ¿qué ha pasado?”

You let out another terrible sob, the sound breaking Jake’s heart as he reached out to you. “Ven aquí, cariño. Let me take care of you.” He sighed, pulling your nearly dead weight into his arms as you cried, half formed and muttered apologies falling from your lips.

“I’m so-sorry” you wept bitterly, “I’m sor-ry Jake. I did-didn’t m-mean to.” You cried harder, and Jake’s heart shattered in his chest, he could sense the other two watching in horror as you struggled to string together a coherent thought. You were always the firm one, more prone to witty sarcastic banter, or soft measured conversations, than to emotional explosions, that was their thing.

“Shh mi niña, it’s not your fault.” Jake quietly reassured you, wiping the sweat from your brow, and shedding you of your old clothes as you shivered. He carefully pulled one of his large T-shirt’s over your body, and cradled you to his chest as you sniffled and drank the juice and ate what he had brought you. You slowly regained your clarity, sagging into Jake, exhausted, bodies curled together on the cool tile of the Bathroom. You leaned your back into his chest and sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he curled his arm around you, pushing the hair from your sticky forehead and kissing your temple. “You ok there niña?” He mutters where his lips are pressed to your head.

“Yes, that was a lot.” You huffed a humorless chuckle, and pressed a hand to your throbbing head. “I never should have gone without you, sorry I scared you, I should have waited.”

Jake sighed and dropped his hand to rest on his knee where it was propped up at his side. He clumsily pushed his fingers back through your sweaty hair, forcing you to lean further into his chest where your back is pressed against it. “It’s okay, estrellita, you were doing what you thought was right, and I understand how demanding being an avatar can be, but I want to help, be a little more careful next time si?”

You nod and nuzzle into his palm. “Claro que si.” you mutter, “lo siento, mi amor.” you feel him chuckle a bit as you respond and you smile.

“Tish! You spoke French!” He muttered, making you giggle as he placed hasty kisses up your arm. You giggled at the Addams family reference, as he lifted you to your feet. Later, as you lay curled up in bed, completely exhausted, Jake sighs and says, “The boys and I want to apologize for earlier, we were so scared and worried that we didn’t take into account that ranting at you might not have been the best way to speak about our feelings. We care about you, and we were worried, so we got a little worked up.”

“Oh babe,” you sigh snuggling closer, “Don’t ever apologize for loving me, I’m sorry I worried you all, and I’ll be more careful next time.” You muttered as you began to nod off. “Bueñas Noches, hasta mañana, te amo.” You said nodding off as Jake nuzzled into your hair.

“Love you too, goodnight.” He sighed as you both drift off to sleep.

#moonknight #moonknight x reader #marc spector moon knight #jake lockley moon knight #steven grant moon knight #moon knight story #moonknight fanfiction #moon knight #marc spector x reader #marc spector #jake lockley #jake lockely x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant #avatar!reader

[lilacmeadows]

Made For You pt.1

Okay so this is gonna be a series. My FIRST series. So go easy on me pretty please. I’ve never written smut, and I know nobody wants badly written smut. So we’ll see about that. But this one is definitely gonna be more of a slow burn. Maybe 4 chapters? Yeah. I like that. 4 chapters. I’ve just been thinking about this idea for a while and I wanna get into writing. I hope someone likes this.

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3 (coming soon)

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, eventual smut, fluff, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

WORD COUNT: 2k 

PART ONE

She’s so used to quiet in her quaint bedroom. The faint whirring of the air conditioner, sounds of footsteps and machinery being rolled outside her door, the music they would play for her when she was extra good that week.

So when she was awoken to gunshots and yelling, y/n was anxious and didn’t know what to do. She backed into the corner of the room furthest from the door and shut her eyes. Hopefully, if she stayed quiet and unseen, things would resolve itself, and she wouldn’t see any violence come her way.

Luckily for her, after what felt like hours later, the sounds quieted down. The gunshots were less frequent and finally came to a stop. She waited for a few moments before sitting on her bed with intentions of continuing her knitting. She wasn’t allowed many activities, but this was one luxury the Men didn’t mind since she hadn’t had any violent outbursts in a long time. She hated being shocked, and she liked knitting.

But the quiet didn’t last long. Minutes later, she could hear footsteps approaching her room. Too late to go back into her corner without being heard through the ‘doggie door’ the Men used to pass her food twice a day, she sat still and slowed her breathing.

‘Anything on that floor?’ She heard one male voice say from further away.

‘Not yet. Mostly supply closets on this floor, but I’ll check them all.’ Said a voice from much closer. He couldn’t have been more than 10 feet away from her door. She could tell they were American like her because they didn’t have the funny accents the Men all had. Gripping her plastic knitting needles tightly in one hand she braced herself for the intrusion.

Her door cracked open a little, then quickly opened all the way.

“Cap, you need to see this.” The man called over his shoulder. “Are you alright ma’am?”

“Yes. I’m fine, sir.” Her small voice replied, a little rough from lack of use, but still remarkably sweet.

“Who are you? Do you know where you are?” He approached her slowly, taking in her meager appearance, but also watching out for the pointy sticks she has a death grip on.

“My name is y/n. I’m in my room.” She replied. Starting to feel very uneasy by this stranger, but also not thinking that he would hurt him. She had been here for so long, it was strange seeing a tall, black man enter her bedroom. Only trainers and watchers were allowed to enter her bedroom.

“What is it?” Another, taller man asked, but his question was soon answered when his eyes landed on the girl sitting on her bed with her tucked gently under her. He immediately noticed her lack of decent clothing, and it caused a blush to creep up his neck.

“We have a girl here, possibly a hostage, maybe an experiment. She doesn’t look like she particularly wants to be rescued.” The first man said to the other, who’s slowly entering the room while trying not to stare at her thin, flimsy, cotton dress.

“Hi, I’m Steve, this is Sam. Do you know where you’re from?” The blonde man said to her while crouching down to be at her eye level. She nodded her head yes. “Well we’re the good guys. We’re here to save you. Do you want to come with us so we can take you home?”

She had to contemplate for a minute. It had been so long since she got here that she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to leave. These men looked sincere, but she knew if she left and was caught, she’d be punished terribly. But if the gunshots meant anything, there would be nobody to punish her. Which means she can’t stay regardless because there would be nobody to take care of her either.

“Did you kill my watchers?” She looked at the blond man after a few quiet seconds. Steve and Sam made eye contact and had a whole argument in silence before Sam spoke up.

‘Yes, we did. But they were bad men. They were keeping you here. But you’re free now. You just gotta follow us, and we’ll get you out of here.’ Sam said, gently. Not wanting her to think they’re cold blooded murderers, but also trying to rush this meeting along so they can board the quinjet, where the rest of the team was waiting.

Steve held one of his hands out to her, which she hesitantly took- knitting needles and purple ball of yarn in her other hand. She thought about grabbing her sweaters, but they weren’t kept in her room. Quite frankly, she had no idea where they were. The Men didn’t allow her to keep the things she learned to knit in her room. But they would give her back a sweater during the cold months. So she just followed the two men awkwardly. Them taking large, hard steps towards parts of the building she had never seen, and her dainty footsteps lagging behind. The trainers taught her to walk with a ladylike gait, on the balls of her feet with barely any pressure to her heels.

After many hallways and stairwells, they found themselves outside the building. The quinjet was parked close by, and y/n’s eyes almost jumped out of her head. Of course she had never seen anything like that before. The men led her onto the loading area which closed behind them.

“Take a break for sightseeing?” Said one man from the front of the jet. They couldn’t see her because of her small stature behind the two men.

“Actually, we found someone. Her name is y/n. She was in one of the rooms, top floor.” Steve said to the man, while fishing you out from behind his back.

She was met with eyes. Many pairs of eyes. All looking directly at her. Not used to all the attention, she looked down at her feet, which were bare as usual and slightly irritated from walking on various terrains. Her toes painted baby pink. Another luxury the Men allowed her. Some watchers were nicer than others. The shorter, fat one that came every other night would bring her a light, barely noticeable, polish that she was only allowed to put on her toes.

Being there wasn’t so terrible. She was 10 when they took her in 2006. She had a mom and older brother, and they lived in a town in Georgia. She often wonders what happened to them that morning when the Men put a rag over her face, and she woke up on a bed in the room that would become her new bedroom.

She didn’t leave the room often. There was a small bathroom across the hall from her room. The watcher would be standing guard outside her door, and she would let him know she would like to use the bathroom or bathe. He would have to stand in the room with her while she bathed, but after a while, they were kind enough to face the wall. She fought for a long time. Refusing to eat the food (which wasn’t terrible), screaming and crying, she even plotted the occasional failed attack. But then they started the shock therapy, and she learned. Being in that chair was brutal. Rewiring her brain into submission. Submission to the Men so they could train her. She had to be ready for the Soldat when he needed her. Why her? She didn’t ask and they didn’t tell her. She learned very quickly that she was only allowed to speak when spoken to.

Make the Soldat happy. That was her mission. She had been told that phrase so many times that she heard it in her sleep. She had never seen or met him, but she was being trained to be his. A possession he could have control over during the brief times he was unfrozen. She was to listen to him, obey, sleep with him, and just make him happy because the mind controlling words were having less and less of an effect, and the Men were afraid he would lash out and massacre them all.

But it doesn’t seem like she’ll be fulfilling her life goal after all because now she’s in the air with a group of people looking at her like she has two heads. A woman with pretty red hair, a man with a large bow, and a man with nice glasses towards the front of the jet, were on one side. On the other was a blond man with very long hair, standing up to talk to a man in a purple shirt, and a man sitting by himself with long brown hair. All of their stares were pointed at her, but his seemed to go through her. Like he had x-ray vision and could read her mind.

“Y/n, you can have a seat right there.” Sam said, pointing to an empty seat next to the redhead who only squinted at her. “That’s Natasha. She’s nicer than she looks.”

“No, I’m not.” She said, making eye contact with y/n. “But we’re glad to have you aboard.” Natasha finished, the slightest smile forming at the girl.

“Um... Cap, where are her clothes?” The man from before asked Steve.

“I don’t know. This is what she was wearing, and I didn’t see a wardrobe anywhere, Tony.” Steve sighed, obviously exasperated by even the thought of a conversation with Tony.

Tony looked at the girl expectantly. Was he waiting for her to chime in? Because he’d be waiting a long time. She was trained very well. Talking out of turn was one of the first rules she learned.

“Sweetheart, are you alright? Do you want something to cover up? We have blankets. What about water? You thirsty? Does she even understand a word I’m saying?” Tony’s last question was aimed at the men she entered with.

“I understand. I’m sorry. I’m alright, sir.” And if the team was trying to keep their staring inconspicuous at first, they completely abandoned that when she spoke. Her voice was so small and smooth. Just a little weak from not talking much.

“How about we get you a blanket anyway so I can be a little more comfortable” He nodded towards Sam who left the room and returned with a large blanket. She hadn’t realized how cold she was or that her nipples were pointing through her thin dress. Or that the cotton dress was really just a white slip that was damn near see through.

Maybe the grumpy looking man on the other side of the jet does have x-ray vision.

“Thank you, sir.” Everyone had to be called Sir. She hadn’t been around any women, but she was pretty sure if they looked as serious as the one next to her, she’d call them Ma’am.

“Tony is fine.” He smiled at her.

“Hey. I’m Clint, by the way.” The man on Natasha’s other side said, turning his body to address her. “So, umm... What were you doing up there? Are you working for Hydra?” Other members of the team groaned and scolded him for being so blunt, even though they were secretly happy he asked because they also wanted to know.

“I was knitting.” She said simply. She was going to leave it at that, but she could see the way Clint’s eyebrows almost touched his hairline at her short reply. So she continued with the mantra she was raised with. “My purpose is to make the Soldat happy. He is my mission.”

She had never seen a room of people’s heads turn so fast. Eyes darting from her to the brooding man on the other side of the jet. He squinted his eyes, looking equally as confused.

She hadn’t realized that her mission was right in front of her.

part 2

#bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #the avengers #steve rodgers smut #thor smut #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky fluff #chubby!bucky #winter solider x reader #winter soldier smut

[nightshade-minho]

MOONSTORM [ iii ]

You know that feeling when you know you’ve made a terrible mistake?

Yes. That feeling.

It’s a feeling that never really goes away. You had to learn that the hard way.

Irrevocable actions, stupid mistakes. You were heart-wrenchingly familiar with all of it.

To err was human apparently. You...weren’t human, though.

It seems like being superhuman was insignificant, after all. At the end of the day, nothing mattered. None of your powers did.

Despite it all, you still lost him.

warnings: depressing shit (it gets better though dw) mentions of death, violence, sexual content, future smut

wc: 2.8k

moonstorm masterlist

It felt like the world had lost all color.

It had happened so many months ago, and yet it still felt like it happened just yesterday. The memories of stumbling out of his lair, covered in his blood and your tears, still fresh in your mind.

The image of his face, betrayed and yet so calm as he uttered those last words to you...it haunted you constantly.

You found yourself looking at the moon every night, dreaming about what could have been. The nightmares endlessly plagued your sleep as well, causing you to fear even your own bed.

No...even after Hyunjin's effects on you wore off, your own brain took on the responsibility of torturing you by conjuring up more heartbreaking dreams. Dreams which made you long for something you knew you’d lost forever- never to be yours again.

You never truly realized how much you’d gotten used to having him around. Life was so glaringly empty and meaningless without him. It was a complicated relationship…and yet it still left a giant hole in you. An all-encompassing despair that threatened to swallow you up.

With him gone, it just didn’t feel right to be a superhero anymore. How could you be the strong role model for everyone in the city to rely on when you knew just how weak you’d become? Even when the newspapers were covered with your heroics, even as the mayor addressed the city and expressed his desire to give you a medal for stopping yet another supervillain from roaming the streets- you stubbornly refused to don that costume ever again.

You stayed hidden through it all. You just couldn’t bring yourself to go out in public anymore. Your vigilante costume lay forgotten in the back of your closet- crumpled and sad.

It just...felt wrong. At the moment you felt nothing but pathetic. You didn’t have time to waste saving a snotty kitten stuck on a tree or stop a petty criminal from robbing a bank- all you were fit to do was eat ice cream straight from the can, and watch a soulless movie. The same routine, day in and day out. You hadn’t left your apartment in nearly a month, not even to buy groceries. Every second was spent wrapped up in blankets, pondering what you’d done.

Was that selfish of you? Probably. You were discovering new flaws by the second.

Sighing, you sat up a little, your ass almost numb from how long you’d spent lying down. Glancing up, you saw your father’s portrait looking down at you. You swallowed and slowly stood up from your bed, groaning to yourself. Why did he suddenly seem so disappointed?

Maybe a little bit of fresh air is what you needed, considering you were starting to believe the paintings were changing expressions. After all, you had work to do anyway- might as well take advantage of the nearby café’s free WiFi.

***

Here at last.

You sat down in the corner of the café, so tired you could barely move a muscle. But you had to get a move on with your life- the recovery should have happened by now.

And yet here you were, months later. Nothing seemed to be able to fill the hole he left behind, and even now you wished you could go back home as soon as possible.

Had it...had it been a mistake?

Of course it had. Your misery was evidence, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could convince yourself that you’d done it for the good of the city.

The truth was... Hwang Hyunjin scared you.

He made you feel things, made you want to be someone else entirely. Every ounce of rigidity and austerity you’d imposed in yourself disappeared every time you were with him. He made you want to give everything up- give up all the responsibilities and burdens you carried on your shoulders to be with him. To be like him- free.

It wasn’t Hyunjin who was a threat to the city. No, not directly.

It was you- or rather the lack of you.

This city needed you to survive, and if Hyunjin managed to change you...it surely wouldn’t have lasted long without your help. Hyunjin had never really been the city’s biggest threat- there were far worse villains and it was them who you really fought against.

He was more of just an inconvenience, someone you had to deal with from time to time. And then he’d struck that deal- after which the nature of your relationship had turned into something entirely different.

Every time he acted up, it was usually just a ploy to get your attention. And attention was exactly what he got. You’d reinforced his behavior like an idiot.

You told yourself it was a chore, but it wasn’t all that convincing. You’d loved spending those nights in his bed, loved the way he was an expert at making you come undone with his body and his words.

It really had seemed like a good idea at the time. The right thing to do. However, it was quickly starting to seem like anything but.

You sighed as your mind tried its best not to travel back all those months. Dipping a teabag into the liquid, you mindlessly observed the customers in the cafe. Many of them were young, teenagers who were heading out before class.

You sighed as you recalled your own high school days, the times Hyunjin and you had hung out in a cafe much like this one.

“You don’t have to help me with this project, you know.”

“Ah, shush. It’s our final year. I’m not going to leave you alone.” He smiled as he flipped through his books, taking a sip of his coffee occasionally.

“You act like you’re not sticking to me like white on rice the rest of the year.” You roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself.

“Don’t get snippy with me, missy.” He smirked, still thumbing the pages nonchalantly. “Or I’ll have to punish you.”

“You- I- what?” You wouldn’t admit it, but the thought caused a fluttering sensation in more than one place. It was a little bit of a shock, considering the two of you had done nothing more than make out and flirt, until now.

“Chill. I’m kidding.” He shook his head, looking up at you. “Unless…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Stop it! I’m supposed to be working right now.” You whined, swatting him with a rolled up paper.

“I don’t care.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “Hm...do you know what I’m thinking of right now, Y/n?”

“W-what?”

“Thinking about how easy it would be to slip my fingers under your skirt and play with that pretty pussy of yours. I’m pretty sure it’s soaked your underwear through by now.”

Fuck.

Your cheeks flushed as you stared at your plate. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond properly- his mere words had already turned you to a mess.

“S-shut up.” You mumbled, reading out formulas aloud as you tried to divert your attention from it. Hyunjin let out a teasing chuckle at your lame attempt to change the topic, shaking his head as he stared at his book again, unaware you were looking over your own at him, pressing your thighs together subtly.

God, he was so...so annoying.

You snapped out of it, sighing as you looked around at the much less crowded cafe. Had it always looked so dull? So lifeless?

The thought of him was hurtful- it felt like a dull knife, screwing itself into you. Reminding you what you’d done.

You’d killed the love of your life.

And now? There was no way to bring him back.

***

“Murder is never something a superhero should resort to. A good hero always stays true to themselves- they only kill if it’s absolutely necessary.”

A cough.

“But of course...villains are exempt from that rule. Killing one villain’s life could save countless others.”

Hm. You weren’t exactly sure if your father was right. Although you were just a child, you still had some knowledge of morality.

Was he? Killing just...seemed wrong. You didn’t know if you could bring yourself to do it, no matter how evil the person was.

“Surely there are other ways to neutralize someone evil, Father?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, before shaking his head coldly. “Untrue.”

“The truth is, some lives are expendable, my dear Y/n…” Another cough, before he cleared his throat and fixed his gaze back on you.

“You must always look for the greater good.”

***

You still remembered the day you first met Hyunjin.

He was 13, and you were just a little younger. Your families were good comrades and allies, so your eventual meeting had already been planned.

The two of you were in the living room with everyone else as they talked to each other, mingling and chattering like adults usually did. Hyunjin and you made an unanimous decision to sneak out to the rooftop, and get to know each other better.

“So...our parents are allies now, hm? This means we’re going to see each other a lot more.”

“Of course we are! We’re both prodigies, like my dad and your mom...we inherited their powers, so they’re obviously going to want to cultivate those.”

“You speak pretty fancy for a 12 year old.”

“Hey, so do you! Besides, we’re gifted, aren’t we?”

“Hm.” He sighed, swinging his legs and inhaling. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke up again.

“Do you actually like having these powers?”

“Oh? Well, yeah...I do...my father tells me stories of his days as a superhero. I want to help people, just like him.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d much rather live a normal life. Get a normal job, find someone to love, and have a normal marriage in a normal town.”

You pressed your lips together. “To each their own, I guess. Personally, I just want to get rid of all the evil in the world and make my father proud.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Evil…” He tapped his chin. “How does one even know the difference between good and evil?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? I’m pretty sure it would be obvious in every situation.”

“I disagree. The distinction is blurry. No one knows for sure, and definitely not at first glance.” He sighed. “I would know.”

You brought your knees to your chest as you observed the city below. “Well, I guess you’re right…” you paused, your heart feeling a little heavy for some reason.

“Do you know?”

“The line between good and evil is thin, Y/n. I can’t say I know for sure. But do you know what will always help you remember?”

“What?”

“Your heart.” He said softly, glancing at you and offering you a small smile.

“Just do whatever feels right...trust yourself.”

***

You sighed and shut your laptop.

Home. You needed to go home, cause your heart ached too much. You definitely weren’t ready to go back to work yet. You hadn’t done anything productive today really, just drink coffee and reflect on your actions. Regretting....regretting it all.

It’d been wrong. The wrong choice, the wrong decision.

You knew that, now. There could have been another way. You shouldn’t have rushed into it like that...how could you?

You felt a surge of hatred towards yourself engulf you. It was all your fault, this pain you were feeling. You didn’t have anyone to direct this immense anger towards except yourself. You realized this little fact in horror, your heart clenching as you wished things could have been different.

Finishing off your coffee, you placed a few bills on the table as you left the café, heading home. Ready to burrow under the blankets again, wallow in your self pity and pain. There wasn’t much else to do except succumb to acceptance.

You made your way down the street, humming the saddest song you knew under your breath.

All of a sudden, you felt eyes burning into your back. Your own eyes widening slightly, you turned around quickly-

But there was no one there.

Weird. Sighing, you decided to go back to going over your plans for tonight in your mind.

Maybe watch a movie in hopes of triggering some sort of emotion in you...or maybe take a bath, light some candles and listen to depressing music- shit.

It happened again. Someone was following you- you could feel it. Uncomfortable, your breathing slowly started getting heavier as you tried to formulate some kind of plan in your head-

The next thing that happened was so sudden you barely registered it for a second.

Your hand was gripped, so tightly you felt it would bruise. Aggressive, shocking and swift as lightning- it took several seconds before you realized someone was trying to kidnap you.

“Stop! Leave me alone!”

Struggling against the person holding you, you caught a glimpse of the masked man and decided to scream, hoping to gain some attention from somebody, anybody. There was no way this was happening, not right now. Your day had already been bad enough, why was the universe so intent on rubbing salt in your wounds?!

The urge to fight had never been stronger. Yet there was no strength left in your body. You couldn’t fight back against this man- he was taller than you and somehow even matched you in strength. Unless you exposed your powers, there was no way you would get yourself out of this predicament. Somehow you managed to smack him with your arm weakly, making him hiss.

“Let me go, please!”

The coffee cup fell out of your hand, brown liquid spilling all over the ground as you were pulled into the dark alley so quickly, no one would notice. Your eyes darted about in panic, trying to work out a possible escape route when the masked man caged you in, his arms on either side of you.

A horrible sense of déjà vu enveloped you. It’s all you can do to not scream, trying to keep yourself calm so that you could escape.

It’s ok, breathe in...and concentrate.

The heat within you started to crackle, your palms beginning to burn up gradually.

Your eyes blinked as you decided to try and take a good look at the person holding you. Their head was covered with a black mask, their finger held over their mouth as they ran their eyes over your distressed expression.

Inhale. Exhale.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hissed, staying still and pretending to give up the struggle. “Unhand me now, or you’ll regret it, trust me-“

“Shh! Y/n, please…” He shushed you, his voice shaky.

You stopped in your tracks.

Huh?

That voice…

“I’ll explain... but first we need to get out of here, fuck-” He looked from side to side quickly, scanning his surroundings.

Shit. Why does that voice sound so familiar?

“Who- who are you?!” You managed to get out, the heat fading away as deep, panicked confusion took over you instead.

There was a small sigh as your assailant stood up a little straighter, groaning. And then, his fingers deftly pulled the mask off, clutching it in his hands tightly.

Golden locks spilled out, a handsome visage coming into view. Plump lips and beautiful eyes, looking oh so familiar.

No.

No.

It couldn’t be. This wasn’t happening. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the actual fuck was going on?

It’s him.

But it can’t be.

How? It’s not possible-

You’re definitely losing your mind.

The man’s breathing got quicker as he watched your expression morph from fear into one of pure, electric shock.

“I know you’re shocked, Y/n, but please listen to-“

Your chest started heaving, quickly rising and falling as your heart pounded against your rib cage.

This...could not be happening. What was this? Was this a nightmare? Yet another sick, twisted dream? He couldn’t be standing right in front of you...it was impossible. No. No no no no no no no.

It was all too overwhelming, and your brain and body seemed to agree on that. Your mind swam, your thoughts all over the place as you felt yourself sway on your feet.

“This- I-“ You stumbled over your words, tears slipping past quickly as you tried to form words to express what you felt.

Pain. Searing pain, taking over, spreading from head to toe.

Your breathing slowed as the world suddenly went black, Hyunjin’s shouts in the background fading away...until there was nothing but silence.

Pure, unadulterated silence.

#hyunjin smut #hyunjin angst #skz smut #skz angst #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines

[laufire]

(CW for mentions of csa)

A lot of Commonly Accepted (Often Through Uncritical Repetition) Wisdom in fandom leaves me baffled, when not straight up ticked off, but one that's been on my mind lately, that never fails to bring a scrunched up expression to my face, is the idea that Bela Talbot's backstory was some last minute add-on to her character.

You might argue that the reveal was rushed since the writers caved in and killed her off against their original plan (or at the very least, earlier than). Or that using abuse is a trite way to raise sympathy for an antagonistic character. You could even say that some of the finer details might’ve not been set in stone until they sat down to write her exist, although that one is dubious. But I’m never really going to buy that Bela’s backstory hadn’t been already planned, likely in big part.

The reason why is Season Three Episode Six, “Red Sky At Morning”, Bela’s second episode, co-written by Eric Kripke himself. As all episodes with Bela were, may I add; which means he had a hand in crafting her story from the beginning, as creator, director, and writer.

There Dean, a character that has been shown as sharp and intuitive (although his success rate ain’t that great when it comes to Bela, admittedly xD), immediately pegs her as someone with Issues TM, asking “how did she get like this”. He even taunts her by referencing her father, showing off his talent to hit where it hurts by asking if he “didn’t give her enough hugs”, ‘cause he’s classy like that. This visibly affects Bela, changing her demeanor in their conversation, from more playful to defensive. Hell, I remember during my first watch in real time this moment, especially paired with the rest of the episode, was when I first thought it was possible she came from an abusive family.

Because, c’mon. This whole episode is about parricide. The monster of the week is a ghost who haunts those that “spilled their own family’s blood”. We get two other examples: a woman whose accidental car crash killed her cousin, and two brothers who killed their father for the inheritance. Clearly, the ghost doesn’t have a narrow criteria when it comes to means or culpability -which makes sense given his particular story: he was tried for treason and his brother, the captain of the ship, issued the sentence.

And just as we find out this information... Bela sees the ghost ship that foretells her death. This, paired with the insinuations about an unsavvory past and her discomfort at the mention of her father, aren’t a wealth of information, but they start to paint a picture. We now know for a fact that Bela caused the death of at least one relative (mom and dad); that she wouldn’t have needed to do it directly (she made a crossroads deal); and that she might’ve had a sympathetic motive (her father sexually abused her and her mother turned a blind eye).

That scene offers some more tidbits of information about her past that seem too in tune with 3x15 to be coincidental, and that absolutely break my heart: Bela’s “You wouldn’t understand. No one did.“ and “I’ll just do what I’ve always done. I’ll deal with it myself”. See, I always thought Bela must’ve told people, when she was a kid. That she reached out for help not just to her mother, but to everyone around her that she thought could’ve help: teachers, maybe even law enforcement; adults that should’ve being worthy of that trust and protected her. Except no one did (and the fact that her family seemed to be not only very rich but influential paints a very bleak picture that surely contributed to her cynic view of the world). So she took matters in her own hands, and sold her soul for ten years of relative safety and freedom from her abusers.

To tie it all up, her final scene in that episode offers some more moments that again, are very in line with her backstory. We see how she treats relationships as transactionals: she pays ten grand to the Winchesters for saving her life, like she paid with her soul. Dean, again, draws attention to her likely messed up past by calling her damaged, and she replies that “takes one to know one”. Terrible childhood, ammirite. The show wasn’t been subtle here: it’s telling us Bela has a terrible past, like the Winchesters do, but of a different kind that has resulted in a different kind of person. So yeah, I think all the facts were hinted at back in 3x06.

We could go even futher back and point out 3x03, Bela’s introduction. One of the very first things she says in the show, during her first face to face with Dean (a character that just condemned his soul to Hell), is “We’re all going to Hell, Dean. Might as well enjoy the ride”. Sure, it could be an incredibly fortuitous coincidence; as a writer, I’ve had those and they’re damn great. But it seems VERY lucky, and more likely to be a case of the kind premeditated, well-placed foreshadowing that Kripke excels at.

So, okay. I’ve established why I think Bela’s backstory wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. But why is there a notable narrative in fandom that it IS?

First thing first, I want to get something out of the way: you don’t have to like it even if it was planned ahead. I understand it’s a very thorny subject, and to make matters worse, it’s inherently tied to her death. You might even be fine with the what, but not with how it was dealt with (although personally, I appreciate that neither the abuse nor her death were shown onscreen. In fact, the worse violence we see Bela on the receiving end of in her run is Dean’s threats and manhandling, which seems like a very purposeful choice ngl. Even Gordon freaking Walker was gentler lmao).

But I do disagree with some extended fandom opinions on the topic, and I guess that’s what the post is about. For one, I don’t see how the show “condemned” or morally judged Bela in this scenario. If anything, they clearly wanted to make her sympathetic, AND they showed Dean as being in the wrong by robbing him of information. Dean’s opinion on Bela couldn’t count for shit, for once, because he didn’t have the full picture; because Bela had deemed him UNWORTHY of the full picture, and thus anything he had to say on her couldn’t be taken at face value (except this is Supernatural, so I guess this was a little too much to ask of some people?). I think saying that just because Bela died and went to Hell as a consequence of her deal, IN THE SAME SEASON the same happened to our co-lead, because the writers deemed her evil and irredeemable is simplistic at best, and the audience projecting their own feelings (or being unable to see past Dean’s) onto the writing.

All that said, to go back to the initial point of all of this xD: WHY does fandom seem to insist on viewing this narrative choice as some cheap last minute addition?

There might not be one explanation that fits all, but I have a few ideas. One is that, if this wasn’t planned for and hinted at from early on, some people might feel as if this “absolves” them of their previous (and disgustingly hateful and misoginistic) reactions to Bela. Others will see this as absolving Dean, and maybe even Sam to a lesser extent, for not helping her and for being callous towards her; if her tragic backstory was this artificial, rushed choice made by Those Writers, then Dean wasn’t responsible for reprehensible attitudes towards someone who deserved his compassion (and it can’t be denied that this fandom loves absolving Dean of responsibility lmao). And a lot people are probably only repeating what they've heard from others as the accepted narrative, especially those that didn't even watch all of s3 if at all (Castiel is my fave too, but seriously, s1-3 are worth it).

It’s like they’re creating this imaginary separation between Bela pre-reveal, and Bela post-reveal, to make the situation easier to themselves. See, Bela pre-reveal was this annoying bitch who inconvenienced and embarrassed our leads (not to mention dared have chemistry with them), and thus deserved to be punished for it; or, if we’re going with more modern fandom sensibilities, she can be made to fit into the shallow #GirlBoss mold, with a side of “Secretly A Lesbian And Therefore Not A Romantic Threat” flavour -the current preferred method to make controversial female characters more palatable.

The reveal throws a wrench into this narrative. “Bitch who deserves her comeuppance” is a hard sell when you’re talking about a character who survived csa. And a shallow #GirlBoss reading doesn’t work if you have to acknowledge that Bela was one of, if not the most tragic characters in the entire run of Supernatural.

She spent over half her life at the mercy of her abuser(s), hurt by those who should’ve loved her and protected her most. The rest of her life was extremely lonely, with seemingly only a cat as company, and a surface-level freedom that hid under the sentence that loomed over her head. She died without a single friend, or a simple show of kindness and compassion, without anyone bothering to fight for her. And then she ended up tortured for who knows how long until she became one of her torturers.

All of that is extremely difficult to digest. And when things are hard to swallow, people do as people do, and they try to simplify them. So, sure. Bela’s reveal wasn’t ever hinted at, it’s completely removed from her character and the person we met, and is not even worth trying to fit into the narrative. Sounds easy.

#talking to the void #my thoughts #spn thoughts #supernatural #bela talbot #bitter lau tag #fandom nonsense #spn 3x15 #spn 3x06 #spn s3

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 12: What Happens in Alleyways

From the Beginning,  Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Sorry it's a lil short, it's more of a transition chapter to actually jumping into this case and Reader's now even more confusing "relationship" with Hotch. Things get kinkier and angrier and more explicit from here, but I'll do my best to tag stuff. Thanks for your patience as always, guys, especially amidst the dumpster fire that is current events right now <3 Your reblogs and tags slay me and I love it.

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: Turns out, the world doesn't stop on its axis just because you had sex with your boss. You’re unsure whether or not that’s a good thing.

Words: 1,882

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Violence, dark themes, explicit sexual content. More specific warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

You awoke to the dim light of the dawn, rain gently pattering on the windows, and the blaring sound of Hotch’s ringtone three feet from your face.

“Jesus christ, old man,” you groaned, blinking your eyes open, “turn your hearing aids up.”

Already sitting up in bed, he paused with the phone halfway to his ear.

Shit. You were being too casual - waking up in his bed, joking with him. Acting like you belonged there. You didn’t know how he felt about what happened, for all you knew he regretted every second and-

“You’re paying for that later,” he smiled before answering the call.

The playful threat filled you with relief before it made your stomach flip, and the memories of last night came flooding back. His body, his eyes, his hands all burned inside your eyelids as if you’d been staring directly at the sun. You’d never been in this situation before - waking up next to someone you’d spent the night with and desperately hoping it was the first time rather than the last. But you’d also never felt your body sing with the white-hot pleasure it did when it was touched by the seemingly unattainable man who did so last night, so. There was that.

The low rumble of his voice brought you back to the present, and you looked up at his face to find it was twisted up in concentration, resignation, and something else.

“I’ll be right down,” he said, standing up swiftly and pulling his work clothes on with practiced speed. “Don’t let anyone touch anything.”

He shoved his phone in his suit pocket and looked at you, still tangled up in his sheets.

“Get dressed and meet me downstairs,” he said, terse. “There’s a body in the alley outside the building.”

“Outside this building?”

“Yes,” he responded, “and there’s a note.”

As he swept out the door, leaving you reeling, you realized what the other expression on his face was. Fear.

***

Hotch had gotten ready and exited the apartment before you had even processed the situation, and your mind was racing a mile a minute as you flung yourself out of bed and scrambled to get dressed. The logical assumption, of course, was that the stalker had left the body. People didn’t just end up dead in alleyways in this part of town, and certainly not in the middle of a rainstorm mere floors from where the BAU Unit Chief slept - not without a reason.

You threw on your coat and boots, forgoing contacts and makeup in favor of your glasses and a hat to cover the tangled mess last night’s tryst had made of your hair. Without even pausing to look in a mirror, you scurried down the stairwell and exited the lobby into the cold October wind.

It was easy to tell which alley the body occupied - there were an excess of thirty people milling in and out of the space to the right of the building. Crime scene investigators, policemen, and other personnel talked in hushed voices. You spotted a clearing in the sea of people and knew that’s where the victim would be, given a wide berth per Hotch’s instruction.

The team hung out at the edge of the circle watching Reid, who was kneeling in front of the body slumped against the side of the apartment building. Moving closer, you could tell he was in the middle of one of his spiels, gesturing wildly while the everyone nodded along. You joined the group that had formed around him and caught the middle of what seemed to be a hypothesis about victimology.

“ -no patterns, obviously, but if we assume similar characteristics would be present in all his victims, it’s hard to discern what statement he could be making. Positing a male in his mid-to-late twenties is statistically most likely, but stalkers of this age group also frequently have some sort of sexual motivation, and if the autopsy is consistent with what we can observe now,” he gestured to the body, “I don’t think that’s the case here.”

Throughout his speech, you’d been scrutinizing the victim - a brunette women who looked to be no older than 20, arranged in a half-sitting position against the wall behind her. There was no blood anywhere you could see, in fact, she barely looked dead at all, likely thanks to the below-freezing temperatures last night that had put a pause on the early stages of decomposition. Pinned to her shirt was a white envelope that bore an ominous message in bold, black ink:

“For my friends at the BAU.”

Not hard to guess who had killed this woman.

“Can you determine cause of death, Spence?” Prentiss asked, her arms folded.

“I’m not sure, but if I had to guess…” he used his pen to push the victim’s hair to the side, exposing a neck mottled with stark blue bruises. 

“Anger, then,” you offered, speaking to the psychological drivers behind strangulation, “but I doubt we’ll find any sign of sexual assault. The unsub made it clear that his disdain is directed towards us; it’s not likely that would extend to his victim.”

The rest of the team nodded in thought, but Hotch looked at you in surprise, as if just noticing your presence. As his eyes glued on yours, his face changed, and he grabbed your arm in an unpleasantly tight grip.

“Open the note. I’ll just be a moment.”

Unaware of his boss’ sudden change in demeanor and the vice on your elbow, Morgan gloved up and reached for the envelope. Hotch, meanwhile, unceremoniously dragged you down the alleyway and around to the deserted back side of the building.

“What the hell?” you hissed, yanking your arm out of his grip.

“Did you fail to look in a mirror before you came down here?” Hotch’s narrowed stare betrayed nothing but contempt, and you scrambled to determine the implication of his question.

“I’m sorry, did you want me to take a shower before looking at the dead body? I did the best I could, it seemed urgent -”

“No,” he snapped, “I’m referring to the fact that your neck looks worse off than our victim’s does.”

You processed his words for a moment before the implication hit you.

“Are you talking about the hickies?! Christ, Hotch, I’ll get a scarf then. Just give me a second!”

“Please do. I’d like my agents to appear professional, not like they’re college kids coming off a one night stand.”

His words halted your stomp back into the building, and you turned back, furious.

“You put them there! How is this my fault?”

“I didn’t think I would have to be this explicit about the fact that I don’t want the fact that we had sex last night broadcast to everyone at the crime scene.”

You gaped at him in disbelief.

“Are you embarrassed or something? I’m sorry if you regret what happened, but you don’t need to lash out at me like this -”

“I’m not lashing out,” he interrupted, “I’m informing you of my expectations for my agents. Is there a problem?”

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to smack that perfectly raised eyebrow and controlled expression right off his face. But he was boxing you in - speaking to you as your boss and not the man you slept with last night, and as much as you hated him for it, your sense of self-preservation won out.

“There’s no problem,” you mumbled, unable to make eye contact as you slipped past him and around the building.

You made it halfway up the stairwell before the tears started flowing. Had you really thought sleeping with him was going to change something? That he was going to ask you to be his fucking girlfriend, like he wasn’t the chief of your unit and you weren’t a twenty-something intern? For all you knew, he did this all the time. His level of skill in the area certainly made it seem like he did.

That wasn’t true, though, you knew it. He may not reveal much, but you could tell it had been a fraught decision to let your relationship develop the way it had. Perhaps even a decision he regretted now - and it certainly seemed so, given his behavior.

Wiping tears on your sleeve, you fumbled with the spare key he’d given you to his apartment and walked in. You glanced in the mirror by the entrance and your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. Hotch wasn’t exaggerating when he likened the marks to strangulation - indigo smudges, still peppered with the angry red of burst capillaries, circled your throat.

It was a juvenile, possessive, ridiculous display, and Hotch was absolutely right to label it unprofessional. And yet, the thought that you’d walked onto the scene bearing the marks he’d given you filled you with a thrill so intense you had to brace yourself against the entryway table and clamp your legs together.

Breathe. There’s still a fucking murder scene downstairs.

You steadied yourself and headed for your duffel bag, where you’d thankfully packed a scarf in preparation for the cold snap that was predicted to hit the state this week. Midway through unzipping your bag, though, your eyes landed on his dresser and the devil sitting on your shoulder, buzzing with a deadly combination of anger and arousal, whispered a terrible, reckless idea in your ear.

***

You practically skipped downstairs to rejoin the team, who appeared to be engaged in a lively debate about the contents of the envelope Morgan was holding. After gloving up, you reached out a hand towards him.

“Can I read it?”

He handed it over, distracted by another stream of consciousness from Reid. Hotch took note of your return and glanced in your direction before turning back to the conversation.

You pretended to read the note and waited for him to notice.

You waited all of three seconds.

He whipped his head back so comically fast you struggled to suppress a snort, and you knew exactly what he was looking at. A midnight blue cashmere scarf, nicked from his dresser and wrapped artfully around your neck to cover the bruises, just like he’d asked. The first compliment you’d ever paid him was in regards to this scarf; tentatively whispered when he’d worn it to a chilly 2 am crime scene. He’d accepted the compliment passively, but the optimistic part of you had noted that he seemed to wear it much more frequently after that.

You weren’t entirely sure what statement you were intending to make by wearing it, but his reaction told you you’d certainly succeeded at provoking something.

Morgan reached back out for the note you were still pretending to read and dropped it in an evidence bag. If he noticed Hotch steaming from the ears next to you, he didn’t say so.

“They’re ready to pack everything up and head back to the lab. Let’s meet ‘em there?”

Everyone nodded in the affirmative and headed back to the SUVs.

“You riding with me?” Morgan asked, nudging your ribs with an elbow.

“No,” Hotch answered for you, an unseen hand suddenly gripping the back of your neck. “She’s not.”

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#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch x you #standards of performance #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner imagine #thomas gibson #hotch fanfiction #spencer reid #derek morgan #david rossi #jj #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #fanfiction #writing #ao3 #hotch

[hawkthewintersoldier]

When the Numb3rs Add Up to = (U+m3) Part 1: Friendly Meetings

“What’ve we got?”

The scene was bright and vibrant… including the blood on the ground, which was a brilliant ruby shade. Don Eppes, one of the lead agents at the FBI in Los Angeles, was kneeling and inspecting a female corpse, who was staring blankly up at the sky.

“Female, mid-to-late 20s, blond hair with deep brown roots… brown eyes.” Megan said, kneeling with Don and pointing. “…Same M.O…. He wrote ‘Trick or Treat’ across her forehead after stabbing her to death… sexually assaulted…”

Don groaned, his eyes going up as he stood. “…Damn.”

“Don.” David called out, gesturing them to look over at the body. “…Look. No splatters… nothing to suggest that this happened here.”

“No. She’s like the others… he’s taking them somewhere else and killing them.” David said, sighing. “…By some miracle of God, are there any prints? Cameras around here?”

“…Uh, sorry Don. No.” Colby said carefully as Don rubbed his temples. “…Is Charlie coming out?”

“Yeah, he’s on the way…”

At that moment, a vehicle pulled up… and Charlie, Don’s brother, stepped out of the passenger side, a notebook in his hands. Don whipped his head up, then shook his head, pointing at the body and gesturing for it to be covered as he walked.

“Charlie!”

“Hey, Don…” Charlie said, his eyes focused on the clues from the last two victims. “…What can you tell me?”

“…She’s in the same age-range… has naturally brown hair that was bleached blond… brown eyes… same build…”

Charlie stared at him, then glanced around at the body that was being zipped into a bag. She was young enough to be a student of his… a fact that made him cringe. “You realize that this practically guarantees that these women were targeted… and this person could be after them for any number of reasons regarding their looks, ages, even some other detail we don’t know about yet. We know their ideal target, but not the WHY…”

“I know, Charlie… it’s why the FBI’s got another person on this with you… how HAS your conversations with J. been?” Don asked, curiosity on his face as Charlie smiled slightly.

“He’s very clever… helped me a bit on figuring out a formula for all of these variables that simplified things a bit more. They have to be more than a mathematician…” Charlie said as a woman off to the side nodded and came over, having overheard.

“…They are.” She said, then offered her hand as Charlie took it. “Special Agent Cameron Dodge.” She said as Charlie shook her hand, nodding. “…Myers is a criminology student as well as a mathematics major over at CalSci. We’re looking forward to trying to hire them once they’re out of school.” She said as Charlie tilted his head to the side.

“A criminology student?”

“And mathematics, yes. They studied YOUR work, actually, Professor Eppes…” Cameron smiled, watching the surprised look go across his face. “Made them want to combine the two. I think their thesis paper is going to be on the proposed benefits of mathematics on the crime scene.”

“Oh, wow.” Charlie said, his eyes widening as Cameron nodded.

“Mmhmm…”

“I was actually thinking that it might be time to bring this guy in to see everything we have face to face and work directly with you, Charlie…” Don said as Charlie nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Charlie said, his eyes on Cameron as she nodded.

“Fantastic… They’re usually working on equations in CalSci’s math wing… room 16A.” Cameron said as Don stared at her. “…I used to go to them to get my questions answered when your brother was unavailable.” Cameron explained as Charlie and Don both nodded. “…You may as well go ahead and find them.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. I have to head back to CalSci anyhow…” Charlie said, smiling over at Don. “…See you.”

“Sure thing, Charlie.”

~*~

Charlie sighed as he headed through the halls of CalSci, a hand going through his curls tiredly as he glanced at the little piece of paper. He didn’t know much about this mystery mathematician he’d been working with the last few days, just that the FBI worked with them here and there, mostly by e-mail… but Agent Dodge said that she had worked with them personally before sending him to CalSci to get them… and they’re eccentric…

Don had just laughed, because he thought Charlie himself was eccentric… but Charlie never saw it as eccentric. He just… didn’t think like them. And that was ok. He saw the world more in numbers and equations than most did. Everything is numbers, after all…

“…Room 16A…” he muttered, glancing at each door as he walked. He knew every professor, minus a few new ones… but the students… some slid past him without him having met them… and the one he was meeting today was in that group. He never paid attention to memorizing names of students, just faces, but he had asked flat out if this J. Myers was a student of his… they’d said no, but they’d attended his lectures here and there. Apparently, face to face human interaction wasn’t a big thing for them, something Charlie understood. Big crowds weren’t his thing either.

“…J. Myers.” Charlie frowned, glancing at the door as he nodded. “…There. 16A.”

Walking in, he was expecting to find a mathematician at work…

What he FOUND… was a young woman with headphones on her head, her backside moving from side to side as her head bopped. Her hand reached out and grabbed a rice krispy treat off the table, her eyes not glancing over at all… An oversized plaid shirt hung loosely on her, unbuttoned in the front, with a black tank top beneath it, and pale blue jeans hugged her hips. He tilted his head to the side… glancing back at the paper, and he blinked.

“…Hello?”

She didn’t pay him a lick of attention, and that alone caused him to huff a bit and wave a hand.

“…Excuse me??”

Her mouth began mouthing lyrics, too quietly for him to hear… but he made out a few of them… and recognized the song as R. Kelly’s Ignition Remix… not a terrible song… but he wasn’t there to listen to music… or watch anyone dance to them.

Though… he had to admit… as she rolled her hips… she wasn’t terrible to look at… Her hands came up, fingers lacing through her hair before fluffing it as she moved, and he bit back a flush as he cleared his throat loudly.

Her head whipped around and she let out a shout of surprise, jumping from the shock of him seeming to appear out of nowhere. “OH MY GOD!” she yelped, then tugged her headphones off as he gave her a slightly bemused look. “W-WHAT’RE YOU DOING HERE?! WHO ARE YOU!?”

“Sorry… Professor Charlie Eppes… um, the FBI sent me, Agent Cameron Dodge told me that someone might be working on their formulas in here… but I guess they’re out.” Charlie sighed, his hands going into his pocket. “…Can you tell… um… J. Myers that I’m looking for them and that I’ll be in my office?” he asked as she nodded, her eyes wide. “Sorry to bother you in your… dance… session…” he snorted as she stared, then watched him turn.

He was quickly out the door… snorting under his breath… and he heard the sounds of chalk on a chalkboard. His sneakers squeaked as he stopped, a frown on his face as he made an about face and quickly walked back in.

There was the girl… headphones back on, her head bopping and that treat she’d picked up before now in her mouth… but she was working at the board. She was quickly writing out a formula, her eyes focused on the board as she nodded, glancing up in thought before continuing her writing… Her shoulders and hips swayed lightly as she quietly sang, her song having changed…

“Say my name, say my name… if no one is around you, say baby I love you, if you ain’t running games…”

He leaned against the frame of the door, his eyes on the formulas on the board… and he watched as she added more to them, her head bopping…

“…YOU.” He said loudly as she jumped again, her eyes wide as she whipped around.

“DO YOU HAVE A THING FOR SCARING GIRLS?!” she yelped, her eyes on his as he shook his head.

“No… I NEED to speak to J. Myers… Do you know where they are?” he asked as she stared. “…Look, we need them for an FBI case…”

She sighed… then moved her headphones to rest at her neck and setting the chalk down, moving towards him and extending her hand. “…Jennifer.” She said quietly as he took her hand. “…Jen. Jen Myers… senior.” Jen said as he nodded, grinning a bit.

“You COULD have said that.”

“You never gave me a chance.”

Charlie simply chuckled, nodding. “…I guess I really didn’t.” he admitted, then glanced at her equations. They weren’t from the current case… these were more delicate and had been nearly perfected. “…For your thesis?” he asked curiously as she nodded. “…Master’s degree?” he asked as she blinked at him, then simply pointed at the formulas.

“…My thesis is on the application of mathematics in the criminology field, specifically the use of mathematics in the solving of crimes.” Jen said carefully, watching as he nodded. “…Some of it comes from your research and formulas, actually… credited in my paper of course.” she said quickly as he grinned, pointing at the formula.

“I recognize parts of this… this part here, for example… and the bit after it… but you’ve refined some of it. Where’d you get some of this?” Charlie asked curiously as she shifted, then glanced at him.

“…FBI databases.”

“Did you hack it?” he asked with amusement as she shook her head fast.

“No, of course not! I was gathering data for a case… and found it. I found it fascinating, so I… acquired it.”

Charlie simply nodded, his eyes lit up. “…Well you’ve done a great job with it… I like the substitution you used here… it simplifies the equation.”

“I know… part of my thesis is making a computer program that can utilize the mathematical aspects that people like you come up with and come up with likely variables and hypotheses for the investigators to use… the world isn’t filled with Professor Eppes’, after all.” Jen said with a grin, watching as he laughed a bit.

“It’s clever. Might put me out of a job at the FBI, but…” he snorted with amusement as she blinked, her eyes widening.

“Oh, NO! Not at all!” Jen said, grabbing her papers to rifle through them. “There would still need to be someone making new, up-to-date equations for the program to run…”

“I was kidding… Do you prefer Jennifer or Jen?” Charlie asked as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“…Jen.”

“Ok… well I was kidding, Jen.” Charlie grinned, then stared at the board, his eyes going over her equations, then glancing at her as she moved beside him again, her eyes focused. “…You know, these really are good.”

“Thanks… I was going to ask you for your professional opinion once this case was solved…” Jen said, bringing her chalk back up as Charlie nodded, then peered at her.

“Why DID you never tell me your NAME…?” he asked as she blinked, then shrugged. “…You knew who I was.”

“Who here on campus doesn’t?” Jen said pointedly, a smile tugging at her lips as he ran a hand through his hair. “…I’m just a nobody.” She shrugged, her eyes going to another line of the equation. “…my name doesn’t matter.”

“I’d have wanted to get to know who I was working with.” Charlie said pointedly as she nodded, glancing at him before continuing.

“…Sorry about that, then.” She said, frowning up at her equation. “…I’m not really a people-person. I’ve been told my social skills are lacking.” Jen said as he laughed.

“I understand THAT.” He said, then tilted his head to the side… then grabbed an eraser, removing a portion of the formula before editing what had been there a bit, her head whipping to him as he smiled. “…There. That should eliminate a few steps in the formula.”

She leaned forward… then nodded, her eyes widening. “…Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” Charlie said, glancing at the door. “…so… there was a reason I came.” He said, holding out a folder as she frowned, then took it and opened it… and paled a bit. “…Another one. This morning.” Charlie said quietly as she nodded, her eyes wide.

“…Damn.”

“Yeah. We have more information, but it also adds variables… we have to pick through them… plug them into a chart to see what aspects align with each victim.” Charlie said, pointing at the paper to show her a few details as Jen nodded.

“Agreed… I’d also suggest some data mining… analyze the victims based on their characteristics… maybe it’ll give you more of an idea as to who the next victim might be.”

“Right, right… I’d thought of that, but we didn’t have enough to go on… but this makes victim four.” Charlie nodded, glancing at the photo and some of the information that he’d jotted down. “…I can work with this… WE can, if you’re interested in helping…”

“I absolutely am.” Jen nodded, her eyes on the photo. “…We’ll figure this out.”

“I hope so…”

#numb3rs #charlie eppes #original character #fanfic #romance #mystery #drama

[aros001]

First time read through light novel vol. 8. Random thoughts.

...So...does anyone else feel a little uncomfortable with that cover image between Reinhard and Felt? I mean, I know he's not going to do anything sexual to her and she's not as young as I originally thought she was (I think vol. 1 said she was 15, while ever since the anime I thought she was like 10 or something), but she still is underage, being forced into wearing and doing something she doesn't want to by a grown man, and I think just the way he's got his hand holding her bare thigh makes it feel more sexual than it should be.

Also, is Wilhelm floating? The heck is he sitting on?

Subaru was afraid of death. Dying constantly trashed his life with an unbearable sense of fear and loss. He thought it was like that for everyone; he assumed that was how it had to be. Subaru, who had experienced death more than anyone via Return by Death, didn’t want anyone else to know what it was like.

I'm definitely seeing more similarities between Subaru and Ferris here than I did in the anime. I like how they both have a more unique perspective on life and death than most people would; Subaru from his Return By Death and Ferris from being such a powerful healer (to the point he can even regenerate himself from near death, I guess). Again, for a series where death can be undone so easily, it really knows how to use that premise to show just how weighty and serious death is. While the two will and do kill, it sits with them more than it does for others because they know just how awful death can be.

Something I've really enjoyed when reading through various LN series after watching the anime first is that I end up liking certain characters that I didn't in the anime. I didn't hate Ferris but the cutesy way he talked really bugged me and I didn't focus on him much. Here though I'm definitely getting a better feel for his character, especially with how much he values life, cursing at the suicidal witch cult members for tossing theirs away so easily. He and Subaru's back and forth makes the ending feel that much more heartbreaking when Ferris has to mercy kill the possessed Subaru.

Also, just to clear up any confusion I have, is Ferris in drag or does he identify as a woman? I don't have any problem referring to him from now on as a "she" (I never had that problem with Magne in My Hero Academia) but I'd prefer to get my facts straight. Ferris also makes a joke about Subaru swinging over to his side of the fence but I'm not sure if that means he's gay or not. It's a little hard to tell how far his affection for Crusch runs, for example.

Similarly, there's Julius, a character I never disliked in the anime, but I can definitely see more of a path to him and Subaru becoming friends here. It is funny that a comment from Ferris got me thinking how something to two have in common is how easy it is for them to get others to immediately dislike them just by talking. For Subaru it's because he too often talks without thinking, shoving his foot into his mouth, and for Julius it's how unintentionally snobbish and "better-than-you" he can sound. It's also nice that the story is getting Subaru to try and work through his issues, acknowledging that he's being unfair towards Julius, whom really has done nothing wrong aside from unintentionally pricking at Subaru's inferiority complex.

Like Subaru, I thought demon beasts and monsters were just so common in the world that a barrier around a lord's domain was a very common thing. But from how the other characters in-story are talking, it sounds like Roswaal deliberately put his domain and the village in the center of (or at least nearby) a demon beast habitat. Even in the anime I always believed he knew more than he let on but here he feels like a straight-up mastermind with everything he's been pulling behind the scenes and all the things he's done that, as of yet, have no explanation or reason behind them. Just what is he up to?

One thing I'll say about this series in comparison to some others I've seen/read; the dark magic here, like with the Witch of Envy, Return By Death, the White Whale, and the Unseen Hands, really feels like DARK magic. I've seen series that have their own version of dark magic that'll make bad things happen or summon demons or sacrifice people, but this? Everything to do with the witch feels creepy and unnatural, like it's not or should not be part of the world. With how much suffering it's caused, the mystery behind the gospel, just how unhinged Petelgeuse is and his body jumping, it all feels like stuff you should really not be messing with. Even at the end with Subaru running off and Julius finding him, getting no response at first from Subaru, feels like something out of a horror movie.

Subaru keeps getting asked if he's Pride, to which I'm assuming they mean if he's the one to become the Archbishop of Pride. Personally, my theory is that because of how much the witch seems to "favor" him, Subaru is Envy, like, well, the Witch of Envy and the only one of the seven sins they never mention to have an archbishop, given Satella destroyed the other witches. If that's the case, I can only imagine how much that's going to piss off all the other archbishops, that after all their shows of devotion some schmuck came to their world out of nowhere and became Satella's favorite.

“Lending one’s strength does not mean merely swinging one’s sword. It means challenging the same foes, worrying over the same obstacles, sharing the wounds and the weight of the burdens. This we can do. This is the lesson I learned in the past.”

Obviously this is meant primarily for Subaru but I can't help but think it can apply to Rem and Emilia as well. With the exception of Puck, Emilia tends to go out of her way to avoid involving others in her problems or having them feel they owe her anything when she helps with theirs. Rem dedicated a good chunk of her life to live as her sister's replacement after Ram lost her horn and tried to kill all the demon dogs on her own after Subaru was cursed saving her. They both seem determined to bear the weight of their burdens solely on their own, like they're the only ones who need to suffer. Subaru goes back and forth on how much he involves others in his problems, but while he's more than willing to help ease the burdens on others, his problem for the longest time was that he was so fixated on "swinging his sword", as he thought fighting and strength was the only way to help (probably because strength would honestly solve a decent chunk of his own problems).

“Two days ago, the forest around the mansion became unnaturally calm... to the point that even my eyes could catch nothing. Thereupon, an armed group appeared bearing the crest of the House of Karsten, which had declared war with the blank letter... Surely you cannot blame my little bird’s heart for being on the verge of breaking?”

Ram, I had no idea how much I missed you until you came back.

Namely, that someone out there had swapped his letter of goodwill, aiming to turn Emilia and Crusch against each other.

I don't think a line or speculation like this was in the anime, which it probably should have been. Without it, it just seems like Subaru's an idiot and made a stupid mistake, but now it seems like someone is directly manipulating events behind the scenes. Personally, I'd say my money's on Roswaal if I didn't have terrible luck when it comes to gambling.

“Silence! Cease your prattle! Give that book back, right—”

“Hey, don’t shout. If you get too angry, you know—your brain’ll shake.”

...

“G...gah...! How dare you, dare you, dare youuuu! My disciple of love!!”

“Don’t gimme that, you’re the one who mixed us up! Tunnel vision! What, are you lazy?!”

HA!

Overlord was the first light novel series I read (the only other LN I'd read before was Death Note: Another Note - The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases and that was years ago), so naturally it's the series I tend to make the most comparisons to for the other series I've been reading. In this case, something I really like about both Ainz and Subaru is that, despite how they're presented sometimes, neither is actually stupid (though they too often suck at reading the room). They're both just in situations way over their head and they have no frame of reference for how to deal with these fantasy world situations. Subaru, like with tricking Sloth into getting attacked by demon beast or figuring out what was up with the flowers, has plenty of times where he shows he can come up with decent plans or quick thinking that can pull off a win. His flaws are based more in his own immaturity and need to grow more as a person.

Honestly, Ainz and Subaru are fun to compare because, of the LN MCs I've read so far, they both seem to get every break the other doesn't. Ainz is obvious. He's got actual power, tons of resources, and numerous people whose faith in him is absolute, while Subaru has almost nothing save for the curse and the clothes on his back and has to continuously struggle to make any difference. On the other hand, Ainz has no one in his life he can relate to or be his real self around, making him feel incredibly empty and lonely, while Subaru has attracted a surprisingly wide web of people around him whom, despite some hiccups, do genuinely believe in the real him.

I am 90% certain Emilia and Puck fighting Sloth wasn't in the anime. Well, no wonder anime-only fans have trouble liking her when you cut out nearly all of the character's best sh*t! [Edit: I was wrong. Another post pointed out it was at the end of ep 23. Like I said, it's been a bit since I saw the anime and I remembered none of this fight. Though I still stand by that LN Emilia is better than anime Emilia] Like I've said before, it's not like anime Emilia could just be replaced with a sexy lamp and nothing would be different, but compared to the LN version she really didn't get a lot to do in the anime outside of the first arc. She wants to be queen and sometimes heals people. Otherwise she was mostly off-screen or serving as Subaru's object of affection (and sometimes obsession). Just being able to fight isn't everything but Emilia here certainly feels like she has a lot more fire to her personality and does more when she appears. She's not just a nice, pretty girl for the MC to fight for.

Somehow, he’d died again. He’d probably lost it all once more.

He surrendered everything to the abyss. This was the familiar embrace of failure after he pathetically lost his life.

Look back at the world.

Look back at your failures.

Don’t forget. Don’t forget. Do not forget.

Ferris’s tear-filled voice. Wilhelm’s lament, shaking with regrets. Julius’s resolve and remorse, so great he probably gnashes his teeth over it—Don’t forget, ever. No matter how low you are, don’t ever let go.

Is this Satella saying this to Subaru? I'd assume so since it ends with the "I love you" line Subaru's been getting before he RBDs. But if so, why is she saying this to him? One theory is that she has her own regrets from her life and is giving Subaru a chance not to have the same. That assumes she is a good person and that the stories around her are wrong. Another theory, given the Witch of Envy title, is that she's insisting Subaru never let go of what's his. It's his (and hers, since he is hers) and no one else can have it. I mean, that applies more to greed than envy, I suppose, but stretching a bit you could say she'd be jealous of a world moving on without her.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/Re_Zero/comments/gwjfwy/novels_first_time_read_through_light_novel_vol_8/

#re:zero #random thoughts #reddit repost

[cynthiaandsamus]

Custom Toonami Block Week 69 (Nice) Rundown

Code Geass: So this episode is kind of a ride, like fuck. We kinda yadda yadda how Lelouch fucking escaped from Nunally’s sinking airship and just have Rolo sitting over him in bed kind of conflicted that he’s still stuck on his old little sister, so therefore he programs the tvs in Lelouch’s train to blast Nunally’s appointment but it’s funny because he probably didn’t even have to do that because directly after that Lelouch runs into the station and Nunally shit is just everywhere, like I get it’s a metaphor but it’s just funny that Rolo had to plan for him to run into something Nunally-related only for him to run out of the plan and run into ten times more Nunally shit. Then we get Kaguya claiming herself, Kallen and CC as Zero’s harem directly followed by a depressed Lelouch hypnotizing a bunch of street punks to exercise, about to do drugs and asking to fuck Kallen, like this episode is fucking ridiculous and parts are hilariously contrived, thankfully Kallen slaps the shit out of him and Rolo’s like “yo bro we don’t need that bitch, come on and live it up in this ridiculously racist system and the one place where it’s slightly less racist with me” and then they go back to school and have the “Happiness is Like Glass” scene which is genuinely amazing and moving, like for all the weird zany stuff that happens in the first part of this episode, this is a little oasis of pure sincerity and quality where Lelouch makes a promise he knows he won’t be able to keep. Inspired by this amazing moment, Lelouch returns to the Black Knights with the thought of “Maybe there are other reasons to destroy an oppressive dictatorship aside from my one ridiculously crippled sister” which he probably should’ve thought of before. And then he defeats Suzaku’s navy with the power of FUCKING BUBBLES, like yeah, this episode is right back to being crazy ridiculous but Lelouch is back and wants in on Nunally’s special zones… okay, phrasing.

Inuyasha: So we open with a scene of Kagome playing cards with Miroku which is genuinely adorable if pointless, but it just makes me laugh that Miroku and Sango seem to know all the rules of the game but are still stumped when Kagome tells them they’re Playing Cards, probably a culture thing. Anyway, Inuyasha has to kill a Barrier Demon to get the power to break barriers, which is a bit of a conundrum because Barrier Demons have, you know, barriers, which Inuyasha currently cannot break. Worse still said demon is a little girl and a half-demon like Inuyasha which understandably puts him in quite a quandary. Inuyasha does his usual thing of “Let’s just go in swinging and figure out the rest later but Shiori’s grandfather deflects the admittedly cool-looking Water Wind Scar Inuyasha throws at them with Shiori’s barrier. Shiori’s mom is all “Gimme back my daughter you said you’d stop attacking us if I let you have her” and he’s all like “Well make me, I have a fucking barrier and can hold you hostage” so everyone’s generally pissed off about the situation and Shiori’s granddad with the long name sends all the bat demons to go destroy the village which makes no fucking sense because the only reason she’s still cooperating is so they won’t hurt her mom, without her she has no reason to keep doing it but I guess he’s hoping having nothing to live for will make her do what he says out of nihilism or some shit.

Yu Yu Hakusho: Yusuke gets to face off against Suzaku, the final boss of the Saint Beasts and the gang get to demonstrate the teamwork lessons from this arc by doing a reenactment of the jumping Bahamut scene from Advent Children so Yusuke can get up the tower to fight him. It’s really pretty cool how they splice in Keiko’s Day of the Dead montage with Yusuke fighting Suzaku, tying things together thematically and culiminating in Yusuke and Keiko both fucking decking their opponents. I also really like how Yusuke’s so confident Keiko won’t go down to a zombie hoard so easily, like she’s not a fighter but she’s smart and has got guts so he’s pretty sure she can last a while while he pretends to punch Suzaku with his shoes. Overall a really good start to the fight that means Yusuke still has to wiggle his way out after using his Spirit Gun already and Suzaku still has a lot of shit to pull.

Fate Zero: So Saber and Lancer do their fight and there’s a bunch of fightnobabble talk that someone who’s actually held a weapon in their life would probably enjoy but to me is just “Oooh cool jabbies, flashing lights” which is still fun. Basically everyone’s watching though, Kirei has his ninja squad on the job, Kiritsugu’s Black Ops is monitoring things and Iskander is watching from the Radical Highway Bridge from Sonic Adventure 2. Eventually Iskander is like “Well damn they might kill each other if this keeps up” and Waver’s like “yeah duh.” And Iskander shows who wears the booty shorts in this relationship by storming into the fight against Waver’s wishes cause he wants to fight everyone anyway. So yeah, giant lightning chariot in the middle of this First Boss battle.

Konosuba: Now that the party’s all formed the group settle into a daily routine of Kazuma being Megumin’s wheels for her Explosion training, Aqua being a waitress and Darkness doing… probably better not to think about what Darkness is doing. Anyway, Megumin bombs the shit out of a Dullahan’s castle and before the Dullahan can call his friend Celty to come kick her ass, Darkness gets hit with a death spell and he issues a challenge to Megumin to come to the tower of the Four Saint Beasts and (wait wrong anime again) but Aqua just breaks the curse on her own and they just don’t bother showing up. In the manga this is really funny because Aqua’s in a maid outfit from her waitress job and just does it like it’s nothing and then they show a panel later of the Dullahan waiting for them like “The fuck when are they getting here…”.

Sailor Moon Crystal: So for some reason even though we only have three of the five Sailor Guardians, Luna decides this is the time to give a recap and reintroduce our protagonists for the first part of this episode. Anyway there’s a big party to celebrate a dated princess Di reference that’s kind of in poor taste at this point and Usagi and friends get in based solely on having fancy dresses and being hot, man I had no idea getting in with rich people was that easy. Anyway, Usagi gets a new tiara because of love and shit and gets an upgraded Ancient Egyptian Laser Beam from the moon. The Four Kings show up to be all “Ha-ha! You defeated my demon but now there’s all four of us and even though we still think you have the crystal and outnumber you and there will never be a moment when you’re weaker than this we will now… LEAVE FOR NO REASON!” like the logic of people in this show oh my fucking god. But of course the dated princess reference’s treasure isn’t the crystal they’re looking for and Tuxedo Mask kisses Sailor Moon while she’s asleep which is definitely sexual assault there was no fucking consent there, I don’t care if they’re moon soul mates or whatever she barely knows who he is and wasn’t conscious. But yeah Luna calls him out on his shit and despite clearly being an ally he has to be all edgy and be like “Well maybe I’m a friend, maybe I’ an enemy, who knows~” because I think he gets his power from how mysterious he is, like he’s going to be utterly useless if anyone figures out who he is, not to mention Luna already knows his identity but for some reason doesn’t tell Usagi. Idk man I just have a hard time following the logic of this fucking show…

Durarara!!: So yeah, this is the “The Yagiri Family is fucked” episode Namie has a weird fucked up brocon yandere thing going on, Seiji’s an asshole that because of having two stalker yanderes going after him has become a fractured manchild that thinks love is everything and pretends he knows shit but knows less shit than pretty much everyone around him and has his sister do all the shit for him. But yeah, Celty sees Seiji with the girl with her head and freaks out, and Shinra A DOCTOR if you remember says “Hey maybe your head just attached itself to a corpse Parasyte style” like either he’s a terrible doctor and really thinks that or this is a smokescreen to make Celty think her head has moved on and she should too which is a fucked up level of gaslighting. But yeah, Mikado takes Head Girl, Seiji keeps stabbing people with pens for some reason, luckily it’s mostly Shizuo so it doesn’t do anything, and Izaya’s just like “oh shit, chaos, I’m down”. Basically everyone is awful in this episode except for Mikado who just wants to help and doesn’t know shit, Celty who’s doing her best, and Shizuo who’s just awesome as usual.

#ooc #Toonami #Custom Toonami Block #Code Geass #Inuyasha #Yu Yu Hakusho #Fate Zero #Konosuba #Sailor Moon Crystal #Durarara!!

[just-another-author-i-guess]

Recherché; jjk x reader

Recherché - rare, exotic, obscure.

Pairing: soldier! Jungkook x Valkyrie! Reader, Knight! Jungkook x Valkyrie! Reader, prince! Jungkook x valkyrie! Reader

Warnings: she/her pronounced reader, blood, war, fighting, death, Jeongguk being a dick, Jeongguk’s actual dick, a description of his dick kinda, masturbation, there’s gonna be more smut in part two so be prepared, also i did not edit this through but are we even surprised at this point

Authors note: so this is gonna be the first story for my Orphic masterlist, I’m so excited! It’s a project I’m trying to work on over the winter, but it’s probably gonna take a longer time, y’all saw how long it took me just to write part one of this. Anyways, I know this is a kinda random time to post this, but I just finished it and I couldn’t wait, so here you go. But also, this is my first time writing anything of the sexual kind, so please excuse how bad it is, but hey, at least I tried? But yeah, please enjoy, I’m so excited for this story!

Orphic; masterlist

Part: 1/2

Summary:

Warrior prince Jeongguk, knows he’s gonna loose the war. So as a last minute resolution, he decides to call upon the goddess of war; who sends him a Valkyrie. But when she’s done with her task, he won’t let her leave just yet.

Word count: 10,1k

➝”I’ll set you free..but only if you beat me first.“

The silver armor he was wearing was heating up, the rays of sun that had hit it, had made it almost impossible to touch without getting burned, and both heat from the sun and the natural body heat radiating off of Jeongguk as he did his best to dodge his opponents blows and hits, filled up his shiny armor.

Sweat was dripping off him, making shiny spots appear on his forehead, cheeks and nose, as he brushed a hand through his hair, ridding his eyes and cheeks of the irritation it had caused.

Suddenly, the loud sound of metal hitting metal cut through the air like a knife, as Jeongguk stumbled a couple steps backwards, realizing that his opponent, Jaebum, had finally caught up to him and hit him directly in the shoulder, with enough force to now have him laying in the grass.

Jeongguk let out a grunt, as his body hit the dirt, knocking the air out of his longues.

“We’re only practicing, remember?”

Jeongguk angrily glared up at Jaebum, who was grinning widely, slowly approaching him.

“You didn’t say that the last three times you knocked me down,”

Jaebum responded, slowly reaching out and holding his armorclad hand out for Jeongguk to take. Jeongguk only grumbled in response, and grabbed onto his friends hand, hoisting himself up.

“Whatever you say,”

Jeongguk stubbornly replied, brushing some of his long locks away from his face, quickly accepting the silver chalice filled with water offered to him by a nearby maid, gulping it down like his life depended on it.

The said maid, gently began to unlock his heavy armor, freeing all the body heat making Jeongguk let out a sigh of relief as the cooler air hit him. Him and Jaebum had been practicing since early in the morning, when the grass was still damp and the sun had just reacently climbed over the top of the mountain behind the castle, along with a couple other knights, and now the sun had reached all the way to the middle of the sky, giving no mercy and shining directly down upon the training field.

“Your highness, you have a meeting in about thirty minutes, to discuss the upcoming battle,”

The maid who had given him water and ridden him of his armor spoke, carefully putting the big metal pieces of Jeongguks armor aside, handing him the chalice once again, refilled with cold water.

“There’s been prepared a bath for you, awaiting you in your room,”

The maid informed him, taking the chalice from him when he was done, watching him dry his mouth with his sleeve and sigh contently again, nodding along to her words.

Feeling fresh and clean, Jeongguk excited his room, now clad in more formal, princelike attire. Jeongguk was the last to enter the throne room, and instantly all eyes were on him as he strutted up and took a seat besides his father.

A loud cough caused everyone to turn their attention back to the table, where maps and small figurines were spread all over. Clearly, they had already begun discussing long before Jeongguk entered.

“As you already know, the spies we’ve sent out have reported that the enemy will most likely storm us from the west,”

The same, older general who had cleared his throat a couple seconds ago spoke up, sounding very sure of himself.

“There have also been reported that another army, will be attacking us from south and north, they were supposed to be a surprise attack, but now that we know-“

Jeongguk suddenly shot up, silencing the man in a most disrespectful way, as he made his way to the large table.

“But general, that would mean we’re surrounded,”

Jeongguk said, quick fingers snatching a couple figurines and placing them on one map, as his eyes scanned the table.

“We’ll be doomed if we let them surround us, instead we could go around-“

He was cut short, when the general waved his hand dismissively.

“Your highness, that would be of no use, and take both more time and effort than we have, I suggest that we walk straight through like planned, and simply just recruit more men so we will be harder to take down,”

“So the plan is to kill off hundreds of innocent men?”

Jeongguk shot back, anger quickly raising in him, at the thought that the general was willing to risk hundreds of innocent citizens lives, just so the war would be over quicker. The plan was a complete suicide mission, and Jeongguk was having none of it.

“Young men, like yourself, have to fight for the kingdom, your highness, whether they’ll be risking their lives or not,”

The general reasoned, a content expression on his face, making Jeongguks blood boil to the point were the tips of his ears were red, and he had trouble controlling his anger.

“If you think that I will stand by and watch you kill innocent young men, like myself, you’re terribly mistaken, general,”

Jeongguk hissed out, glaring daggers at the general.

“If you know what’s best, I would suggest going around, unless you actually want to loose your life, because if that’s the case I could help you out right here and now-“

“Jeongguk, enough.”

His father spoke, calmly, shutting both him and the general up, everyone’s attention quickly turning to their king in both fear and awe.

“You do as the general say, and that’s final.”

Jeongguk bowed his head down in shame, as the general smirked confidently. If only his father would realize that this was a suicide mission, and that he shouldn’t put his blind trust in that inhuman bastard of a general, his fists balled the more he though about all the lives that would be lost, people with a home, people with a family.

“But father, can’t you see that this is a complete suicide mission?”

He protested, almost weakly, as he saw his fathers eyes harden as he looked at his son with a disappointed expression.

“Jeongguk, I already told you, enough. The general knows what’s best,”

Jeongguk only huffed in response, looking directly into his fathers eyes.

“If he really knew what was best, he wouldn’t risk all those lives,”

Jeongguk was stubborn, he had always been, never once had he reasoned with any general his father had.

“Jeongguk, I said enough!”

His fathers voice boomed, making everyone besides Jeongguk jump a little. With one last huff, Jeongguk angrily turned round, stomping up to the door, making sure to hit his shoulder hard against the generals on the way out, as he stormed outside, slamming the door behind him.

Angry groans filled up the training room, as Jeongguk began ramming his sword into the defenseless sanddoll in the middle, tied to a stake, hitting it like it was the general himself.

He continued to throw himself and the sword at the poor, defenseless doll, cutting deep making it bleed violent streams of sand that only seemed to fuel Jeongguks anger.

The big doors creaked open, only to be slammed again as Jaebum walked inside, and took a seat on the bench, standing up against the wall.

“I’m assuming the meeting went bad?”

His eyebrows raised and he looked at the way his friend was now also slamming his body into the doll, every time his sword went through it completely, making more and more sand fall out in violent straleams.

Jeongguk ignored his friend, continuing to give the doll all he had, his groans turning into angry yells, not intending to stop before the poor doll was completely emptied of sand.

Jaebum eyes narrowed, as he looked at the way Jeongguk was gripping the shaft of his sword, so hard that his once red and soft looking knuckles had turned completely white and bony, it wouldn’t be long before the doll, and or the stake it was bound to would give out completely.

A big gash in the middle of the doll gave it away, a ripping sound being heard as the greyish fabric parted, and the last remaining sand slipped out of the doll making it hang limply on the stake.

Jeongguk dropped his sword to the ground, with a loud clash, and just stood and watched as the sand drain from the doll, with a content sigh.

On tired legs, he staggered over to Jaebum, and slowly sank down on the bench besides him. He shook his head, threading his fingers through it a couple times, to get excess sweat out of the roots and the tips.

“The new general is planning on killing hundreds of innocent people-“

Jeongguk started, but got cut short as the big, wooden doors slammed open again, making both boys look up.

The general waltzed inside, a servant scurrying in behind him, holding various weapons. Jeongguks eyes narrowed, as the general walked closer inside, clearly intending on setting his stuff by the bench.

“Ah, your highness!”

The general announced, making Jeongguk almost hiss in annoyance, before his response came, through gridded teeth.

“General.”

He spat back, ignoring the generals big smile, showing his brownish teeth off perfectly.

“Didn’t expect seeing you here,”

Jeongguk grumbled, taking a look at the generals attire, a light brown training suit and boots.

“I wish I could say the same for you, but you are quite loud on the battlefield,”

Jeongguk sneered, looking away from the general, as the servant dumped his stuff next to the bench. Almost as quick as the many weapons touched the ground, did Jeongguk shoot up, with long steps walking towards the door, dragging Jaebum after him.

“Oh but your highness, the doll is completely ruined,”

Just as Jeongguks hand made contact with the door handle, did the general speak up, tone polished but dripping with venom.

“How can I train if I don’t have a partner?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a solution, General,”

Jeongguk spoke, still with his back turned to the general, voice strained as he so desperately bit harsh words and insults back.

“Ah, you’re right, I think I just did find a solution,”

This time the general spoke slower, voice laced with mischief.

“How about your highness is my partner for today?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

This time Jeongguk turned fully around, eyes still narrowed as he tried to mask his surprise.

“You heard me, your highness.”

The generals voice dropped lower, the venom making its way in once again, as he continued to smile with his brownish teeth.

“I’m sorry general, but I will do no such thing-“

“I thought you’d say that, therefore I challenge you to a match, it would only be honorfull to accept,”

The older man spoke, making Jeongguks blood boil over, his face and neck turning slightly red, as Jaebum put a hand on his friends shoulder, to for just the least bit of comfort.

“Oh and of course your servant aren’t allowed to fight, it’s one on one-“

“He is not my servant. He’s my friend and I accept your challenge, if that is what it takes to restore both his and my own honor,”

Jaebum squeezed his shoulder, just about to plead Jeongguk not to accept, but Jeongguk was quicker than him, ripping himself away from Jaebums touch and stepping into the the ring, picking his long forgotten sword up.

“Jeongguk, you don’t have to-“

Jaebum was cut short, when Jeongguk send him a look that would make everyone but him turn into a puddle right then and there, and he was quick to quiet down, stepping aside a little, and silently cheering for his friend.

The general gestured for his servant, making the poor girl quickly pick up one of the large swords and a shield running up to hand it to him. Jeongguk only had his sword, he didn’t even have the proper clothes on, still clad in his princely attire.

Then, the first clash sounded, and Jeongguk had buried his sword deep in the generals shield, angry huffs following him as he did. He was quick to wrestle his sword out, quickly stepping aside when the general aimed for his shoulder, the sword hitting the hard ground instead, and Jeongguk saw his opportunity to get a good hit in, while the General was bend forward collecting his sword, Jeongguks food made contact with the generals back rather harshly, making the elder man fall to the ground with a grunt.

Jeongguk smiled, a little too confident, as he was just about to finish the general off, aiming his sword at the mans neck, but before Jeongguk even could react the elder man had rolled out from under him and pulled his leg, making him fall instead.

With a loud grunt, Jeongguks body slammed down on the stone floor, knocking the air from his lunges momentarily, as he rolled to his back, breathing heavily and looking up at the General with a fiery anger.

Quick in his actions, the General drew his own sword, aiming it for Jeongguks chest, giving the prince no chance to roll away, as he stepped on both Jeongguks arms.

The blade came tumbling towards Jeongguks chest, he watched it almost in slow motion, he desperately began wrenching his arms from under the generals feet. Just as the end of the blade made contact with Jeongguks shirt, piercing through, and drawing the smallest amount of blood, did he manage to free his arm, shaking the General off of him and quickly rolling away, getting to his feet, sword in hand and dark, stormy eyes.

The swords clashed, making loud metallic sounds fill the room and sending Jeongguk a few steps back, as he ran towards the General again, swinging his sword into the generals with all the force he could manage.

Suddenly the general aimed his sword at Jeongguks legs, quickly making him jump over the sharp blade before it could cut into his legs. Before the general could remove his sword, Jeongguk landed on it, fastening it to the ground.

Jeongguk smirked widely, at the unexpected luck, and stepped harder down on the sword, using all his weight, making the startled general let go of his sword, as Jeongguk kicked it away.

Now, only with a shield, the General continued to fight, blocking Jeongguks violent hits and blows, slowly being backed up by the furious prince.

Jeongguk continued to hit the general like there was no tomorrow, until finally his sword went through the generals shield, and as he pulled at the sword out, the shield followed, making the General now completely unaimed.

The general looked terrified at Jeongguk, who didn’t look like he was going to stop, when suddenly, in the midst of walking backwards the general stumbled over a piece of wood, from the now broken shield, and fell backwards onto the ground, Jeongguk towering over him, holding his sharp blade to his neck.

“Move and i will end you.”

Jeongguk commanded sternly, pressing the blade a little closer to the generals neck, so close that if the general even as much as sank the lump in his throat, the blade would cut through.

“Y-your highness,”

The general stuttered, raising his hand in self defense, making Jeongguk press even deeper into the mans neck, drawing the smallest amount of blood.

“I said, i will end you.”

The general slowly lowered his hands again, at Jeongguks words, his eyes full of surprise, he hadn’t expected the young prince to win over him. Him, an old and experienced general loosing to a young, impulsive prince.

“You wouldn’t dare,”

The mans eyes narrowed, even as he laid there, defenseless and with no weapons, was he challenging Jeongguk.

“And how exactly would you know that?”

Jeongguk growled, slowly running the blade along the generals neck, gently poking where his pulse sat, as he marked the mans skin with small cuts.

“I know, I’ve seen many young men like yourself, thinking you have the upper hand, but your highness, all you are is just a-“

The General was cut short, letting out a loud groan, as Jeongguk harshly placed both feet on his chest, stepping up and squeezing the air out of his lunges.

“What am I, General?”

Jeongguks voice was low and dangerous, as he began pressing more and more down on the generals chest, still with his sword pressed into his neck, slowly watching the man turning blue.

A sick smile replaced Jeongguks frown, as he watched the man squirm and gasp for air, slowly loosing consciousness, eyes rolling back, knowing fully well that he wasn’t be able to answer his question.

“Jeongguk, I think you proved your point,”

Jaebums hand carefully came to rest on Jeongguks shoulder, Jeongguk let out a sigh, slowly stepping down from the man, a little disappointed that he wasn’t able to fully watch all life drain out of the General, as he also slowly removed his sword and handed it to his friend.

The general wasted no time, shooting up, coughing and spluttering, face slowly turning back into its normal pinkish color, as he looked up at Jeongguk, eyes full of fear.

“Don’t think i will show you mercy next time.”

Jeongguk growled, spitting out a big lump of salvia, landing right besides the general with a big splash, as he angrily whipped around, stomping out, Jaebum following closely behind him.

“But that will kill hundreds of innocent men!”

Jooheon, who was sitting across Jeongguk at the dinner table, almost spat out his food, upon hearing what the General was planning.

Jeongguk had chosen to eat with the knights that evening, knowing fully well that the general would be sitting, in his seat, eating with his father and the other noblemen.

“This is absolutely ridiculous, surely the king can’t approve of that?”

Another Knight, Kyungsoo sitting besides Jooheon, spoke up, eyes wide in shock as well. Jeongguk sighed, sinking the last bit of food, shaking his head in both disappointment and shame.

“My father..has blind trust in the general, we will do as he say,”

“But Jeongguk did put the General in his place, he was just about to piss himself,”

Jaebum laughed, giving Jeongguks shoulder a friendly push, making the other boy laugh as well, proudly listening as Jaebum went on to tell about how the General was laying defenseless before his feet.

“If I hadn’t been there, the general would surely have been dead by now,”

“I wish you hadn’t,”

Kyungsoo scoffed, making Jaebum roll his eyes, and the other boys burst out laughing. Silence crept into their conversation soon enough, as they all resumed to eating their meal, Jeongguks smile soon turning into a frown, as thoughts about the upcoming battle clouded his mind.

He couldn’t just let himself and the knights walk into their inevitable death, there had to be something he could do.

The moonlight shined in through the window, casting twisted shadows everywhere, as Jeongguk laid awake in bed, eyes wide open. He had tried falling asleep multiple times, but he just couldn’t, everytime he was just on the verge of sleeping he felt hands pull him into reality once again, thoughts of the battle still haunting him.

The room was dead silent, the only thing being heard was Jeongguks own breathing, as he silently prayed for a solution, anything that could help him and his men. Anything.

Suddenly, a loud thump was heard, and Jeongguk instantly shut up, ready to defend himself and fight whatever had made the thump, only to be met with the sight of a book from the bookshelf closest to his bed, now laying on the floor.

An annoyed sigh escaped Jeongguk, as he let himself fall down into the pillows again, deciding to pick the book up first thing in the morning.

A little while passed, and just as Jeongguk was drifting off to dreamland once more, came a loud thump from just above him and the book fell down and landed in his in his lap, making him groan and slowly sit up.

“What in the world..”

He mumbled sleepily, looking at the book in his lap, ‘supernatural beings, and how to summon them.’, he didn’t even know he had a book like that. Carefully, he pushed the book off himself and crawled out of bed, searching for who, or what had thrown the book at him. When he found absolutely nothing hiding in the dark, he returned to his bed, sitting on the edge and slowly picking the book up.

With careful fingers, he skimmed the old book, afraid it might turn to dust right before his eyes. Suddenly, without Jeongguks consent, the book slammed itself open, landing on one of the last pages:

‘The goddess of war, Athena, Pallas Promachos’

A little hesitant, but with eager eyes, Jeongguk grabbed onto the book and slowly began to read out loud in a hushed tone.

“Pallas Procmachos, better known as the goddess of war; Athena. Many have called upon her, to be blessed in war and battles, but not without a price.”

He read slowly, looking at the handdrawn picture, of the supposed goddess of war with big eyes.

“Behold, her powers is of great help, and the one who summons her will be sure to win whatever battle he must fight, but beware of one thing..”

Jeongguks voice slowly trailed off, as he read the last sentence, slower than the rest.

“The price of her power, is..the life of whoever summoned her.”

As if the book had tried to bite him, Jeongguk slammed it shut, eyebrows furrowing as he thought and thought.

As a prince, it would be his duty to sacrifice himself for his kingdom, and wouldn’t it be better if only he died, than if hundreds of other died in his place?

Slowly, a decision formed in his head, and he knew that no matter how much he tried to avoid it, he knew what was best. He would sacrifice himself, if it meant his kingdom safety for his kingdom.

Slowly, he grabbed the book, and creeped out of his room, still clad in pajamas.

“..go away.”

Sleepily, Jaebum waved Jeongguks hands away, as he tried to shake him awake, only to be met with his back as he rolled around.

“Go bother Kyungsoo..”

Jaebum mumbled again, pulling the blanket all the way up over his head, as Jeongguk continued to shake him, insistent on waking him.

“Come on, Jaebum, this is important,”

Jeonguk murmured, careful not to be too loud, and wake any of the other knights in the dormitory.

“Can’t it wait at least just till the sun is up?”

Jaebum sighed annoyed, already too much awake to fall asleep again, as he turned, facing Jeongguk and glaring at him.

“No it can’t, now come on, help me wake Kyungsoo and Jooheon,”

He demanded, as Jaebum staggered to his feet, a tired expression on his face, as he slowly made his way to Jooheons bed, while Jeongguk went over to poke at Kyungsoo.

The four boys crept their way out of the dorm silently, all following Jeongguk, still unaware of the reason he had woken them up in the middle of the night.

“What are we doing here?”

Kyungsoo hissed, when Jeongguk stopped before the big doors, leading down to the dungeons.

“Yeah, why can’t you tell us why we’re down here? It’s freezing,”

Jooheon complained, hopping back and forth a little, careful not to let his bare feet rest on the cold stone floor for too long. Jeongguk turned to the three of them, a resolute expression on his face, as he held the book closer to his chest.

“Do you trust me?”

Was all he said, staring intently at his three friends, a thick silence spreading between them, before they all made a quick nod, one by one, satisfying the prince.

Without another word, he turned around and opened the door, holding it open for the other three, hesitant boys, slowly closing it, making sure not to make a sound when they all stepped inside, and began to walk down the long, slippery staircase.

The walk was long and dark, walking down the many halls, the stones dripping being the only sound besides the boys rustling, and Jeongguk was slowly starting to regret that he hadn’t brought a candle with him.

Jeongguk led them down into a room, being lid up by the moonlight, shining through a small window near the ceiling, once again silently closing the door when the other three boys had stepped in.

“I found this book,”

Jeongguk started, stepping into the moonlight, and opening the book for the other boys to see.

“The goddess of war, this means that we actually have a chance of winning the battle!”

He exclaimed excitedly, as Jaebum grabbed the book from him, all three boys beginning to read the sentences written down, with narrowed eyes, when suddenly Jaebum closed it in shock, like Jeongguk had done just moments before.

“Are you crazy?”

Jaebum hissed, in a hushed tone, as he looked at Jeongguk with fear and worry.

“You don’t have to die, we’ll figure something out,”

Jaebum stepped closer to his friend, placing his hand on his shoulder like he had done so many times before, looking Jeongguk deeply in the eyes, in search of anything that looked remotely like uncertainty, but Jeongguk was determined.

“It is my duty,”

He sighed, and met the eyes of all three of his friends, his eyes shining in the dark.

“Would it not be better if only I died, than hundreds of innocent soldiers?”

It was the best, Jeongguk could see the uncertainty in their eyes, they all knew, he knew, that this was the only way to win the battle.

“Alright,”

Jooheon spoke up,

“How do we do this?”

With a slight smile, Jeongguk took the book from Jaebum, who still looked like a puppy whose tail had been stepped on.

All the boys shuffled to stand around Jeongguk, as he opened the book again, scanning the pages, slowly he began to read the summoning words out loud.

“Pallas Procmachos.. i summon thee,”

He sank the lump in his throat, and glanced nervously around before continuing.

“Please aid me on my quest, give me strength and give me courage-“

A loud bang, cut him off, making all three boys jump and take a step closer to each other, as Jeongguk slowly began to speak again.

“So that I can overcome the challenges awaiting me.”

He almost whispered the final words, as more and more bangs began to sound off the walls, coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and suddenly the book was ripped from Jeongguks hands, by an invisible force, and slammed against the wall, disappearing in the same moment it hit the floor.

The boys stared at the spot, where the book had disappeared, eyes wide not believing what they had just seen. The room began to slowly spin, and Jeongguk felt dizzy, when suddenly a bright, white light shot down, like lightning, blinding all three boys, as a just as bright, thick, white smoke began to appear, slowly filling up the room.

The white smoke swirled and twirled, looking almost angelic, the four boys looked at it with big eyes, drawn to it like a moth to the flame. Without really knowing why, Jeongguk reached a hand out, wishing desperately to feel the smoke between his fingers, but just as his pointy finger made contact with the cold smoke, a strong gush of wind came in through the window, whisking the smoke away as quick as it came.

Even though the smoke was gone, the whole room was being lit up by a white, angelic light, coming from an unknown source, shining so much brighter than the moon, making the strange white figure, laying where the smoke had once been, visible to the boys.

Then, the figure began to lightly stir, making the white fabric wrapped around it, gently slide down to reveal a pair of feet. Startled, Jeongguk began to back away, right into the other just as startled boys, as all their eyes were glued to the white fabric.

Jeongguk didn’t even dare let out a breath, the bundle; or rather what was inside the white bundle of fabric, began to move more, feet quickly retreating into the silky looking fabric.

A long pause passed, and then finally Jeongguk breathed out, slowly starting to approach what he apparently just gave his own life up for.

“Jeongguk, be careful,”

Jaebum slowly crept up besides him, ready to protect his prince from whatever it might be.

Jeongguk ignored his friend’s request, and continued to make his way towards whatever it was, ready to face his fate, and just as he stood above the bundle, did the thing inside it move, making the fabric slide off completely, and revealing a..girl.

Jeongguk’s shoulders sank, both confusion and disappointment filled him. Did he sacrifice his life for this? A girl. He looked down at your sleeping form with narrowed eyes, ignoring the gasps of his friends as they crept up besides him to see you.

You looked so small, wrapped inside the white fabric, you couldn’t have been a day older than him. Jeongguk was sure you wouldn’t even be able to take on a horse, and definitely not two whole armies.

Angrily, he turned around, and met the eyes of his rather concerned friends, as their eyes shifted from you to him, wondering where this was leading.

“Look at her!”

Jeongguk angrily exclaimed, voice almost cracking as he gestured to you with a scowl.

“She wouldn’t even be able to take me down-“

“Jeongguk,”

Jaebum stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder like he had done so many times in the past, trying to calm to outraged prince.

“We don’t know that yet, tomorrow we can-“

“Jaebum, look at her, for god's sake she’s just a girl,”

Jeongguk interrupted his friend, sounding gradually more defeated as he spoke, his doom lurking just around the corner. Moments ago, he had experienced the first ounce of hope, more hope than he had the past few days, and now it was all ruined; gone. 

He felt like he could cry, just looking at your peaceful sleeping face, made his fists clench. The only hope of winning the battle he and his kingdom had was you, and only you. The thought frustrated him to no end, that a girl, barely out of her teens was the only weapon he got.

“Jeongguk, don’t loose your hope now,”

Kyungsoo gently offered, placing his hand on the younger boy’s shoulder as well. He offered one last glance at your still sleeping form, before turning his full attention to Jeongguk standing before him, scowling at you with furrowed brows.

Another long silence passed, before Jeongguk sighed, and turned his glaring eyes away from you.

“Jooheon, what do you think?”

The prince finally asked, looking at his still baffled friend. The knight shook his head, meeting Jeongguk’s dark orbs, gradually letting the shock escape him in waves.

“I think..the most logical thing would be to leave her be for now, tomorrow we can test out her skills and see if she is actually what we need,”

He reasoned, the two other knights nodding behind him, and Jeongguk sighed again. Ready to turn around, when Jaebum stopped him.

“Jeongguk, you can’t just leave her down here,”

“I can, and I intent to,”

The stubborn prince spoke harshly, not even turning around to look at Jaebum. Enough was enough, and Jeongguk had enough, ready to let you freeze your hands and feet off all night down in the dungeons.

Jaebum sighed, clearly starting to get fed up by the prince’s obstinate behavior. 

“You will not, at least take her to the maid’s quarters,”

Slowly, he walked over to your still sleeping form, and lifted you up, like you weighed nothing, careful to keep the white fabric from sliding off you and reveal anything improper.

“Jaebum, put her down, if she’s really a warrior she can handle a night in the dungeons,”

Jeongguk snarled, angrily looking at the way Jaebum oh so carefully handled you. Jaebum shot Jeongguk a look, one of the kind he had only gotten from his mother, when she would scold him as a child for playing outside too long, and instantly the prince quieted up, stomping fretfully behind him as he walked out the door, heading for the stairs.

Not quite sure how Jaebum had persuaded him, he watched with narrowed eyes, as you were now comfortably laying on his bed, tucked beneath his covers.

The bed was big, and there was plenty of space for him to crawl under the covers with you, but he refused. It had been about half an hour, since Jaebum had carefully tucked you into the bed, and then retreated to his own, but Jeongguk hadn’t moved from his spot in the armchair next to the bed, angrily glaring at your chest as it heaved with every breath you took.

The sound of your breathing was heavy, almost hypnotizing to the tired Jeongguk, as he listened, eyes fixated on the same spot in his shelf where the book had fallen from earlier that night.

Suddenly, a small gasp came from the bundle of pillows you were laying in, and Jeongguk was quick to turn his attention to you; still sleeping. 

Slowly, he stood up from the chair, making the wood it was build of creek slightly, as he on careful feet tiptoed the small distance from the chair to the bed.

His gaze fixated on your face, when you turned it in your sleep, and he could see all your features despite the all consuming darkness.

He angrily let out a huff of air, upon realizing that he didn’t feel completely annoyed by your face. The fact that you were what the goddess had given him angered him to no ends, but when he saw your face, really saw it, his eyes unwillingly softened.

As he stood there and looked at you, his features turned to those of the young, naive prince he had been once. The starry eyed, young boy dreaming of a better future for his kingdom.

That look had soon been erased by the many battles he had faced, and as time grew, so did the coldness in his eyes, and if anyone had seen him in that exact moment, they sure would have throught it was a miracle, and maybe it was.

You turned again, eyebrows furrowing as you mumbled something utterly incoherent into the silent night, making Jeongguk quickly snap out of whatever spell he had been under.

His fists clenched in realization, and he scowled down at you. The way he saw you was so much different than the way he would have looked upon an actual warrior, you were nothing more than a girl. Everything in him was denying the fact that he had to sent you out to the battlefield, most importantly because he was sure you would suffer the same fate as him if you did.

Not only did you look anything but prepared for a battle, but you were so small, and looked so incredibly fragile that he was sure just a single blow would be your end.

He observed quietly as you moved more violently, muffled words becoming clear whines, and he almost felt bad for you. He pondered on what in the world could be the cause of a demigods, he assumed you were, most likely a Valkyries, night terrors.

After a while of you thrashing around beneath his soft covers, did he slump back in the chair, brain feeling almost liquified, as the darkness blended together before him, and the only thing being really visible was your white nightgown.

When the sun rose, and the first light crept through the window, and hit your face, did you wake up. Your body felt hot and sweaty, most likely from the many blankets that had been piled on you while you slept, and you slowly blinked your eyes open, looking up into a strange looking bedroom, being illuminated by the golden sunlight.

A muffled sound escaped you as you sat up, blankets slowly sliding off you, allowing you to breathe normally again. Whoever had given you all those blankets, sure didn’t want you to get cold during the night.

As you stared off into the sunrise, the sudden realization crossed your mind. Of course you were used to waking up strange places, due to your job of course, but this time you had been tasked by the goddess herself to help defeat two bigger armies, for a smaller kingdom.

Excitement filled you, as this would be your first real mission. You were a fairly young Valkyrie, having been recruited a couple hundred years ago, right after your earthly death, but having to undergo the training that followed.

The newfound energy caused you to shoot out of the bed, forgetting your less than proper attire, when you realized someone else was in the room with you.

A boy, not much older than you appeared, were slumped uncomfortably in a armchair, turned in the direction of the bed you were previously laying in.

He wore strange, formal attire, you noticed as you carefully not to wake him, tiptoed closer. He must be someone of importance, you realized.

Your breath stopped, as you took in his features. Shaggy, black hair, hanging down in his eyes, a soft looking nose and a mouth that you were sure could only smile kindly, but the princely attire was throwing out a weird vibe to you. It was like he was a kid playing dress up. 

You dared to lean closer, gentle fingers coming to brush the smallest amount of hair out of his eyes, when suddenly his big, just as kind looking eyes shot open, revealing a strange coldness and you froze in your action, fingers still carefully brushing into his locks.

A moment of silence passed you, and neither one dared to breath as the ice in the strange boy’s eyes grew, until suddenly he was gripping your wrist harshly, removing your hand from his hair.

“What’s your name?”

He barked, still holding your wrist tightly in his hand with a scowl, and you sank a lump you didn’t even know you had, his coldness taking you aback.

“(y/n),”

You voice came out small and quiet, sounding almost embarrassed as you did everything but look into his chocolate orbs.

“Look at me when you’re talking,”

He immediately noticed your averting gaze, and without even being aware, tightened the already harsh grib on you wrist.

“I’m sorry, uhm-“

You wanted to know his name, you yearned to know the name of this strange, cold young man, but before you could even finish your sentence, did he speak up again.

“My name does not matter, you’ll refer to me as your highness, understood?”

He stood up abruptly, immediately towering over you, making him appear that much more intimidating than you ever thought the sweet looking sleeping boy, you had seen just a moment ago could.

Dumbfounded, you nodded, mouth a little agape as you continued to stare up at his hardened features, finally understanding the meaning behind his attire; he must’ve been a prince of this strange kingdom.

“Understood?”

His voice dropped with authority, and only when a very quiet ‘yes’, escaped your lips, did he nod his head in satisfaction.

“Meet me on the training pitch in thirty minutes, I’ll sent someone to get you, don’t be late.”

He spoke, punctuating every word, never letting up on the uncomfortably hard grip on your wrist, when he quickly turned around, letting your wrist fall through the air as he almost stomped out, slamming the door behind him.

With wide eyes, you looked after him. What possible reason could he have for being this angry at someone he summoned himself? Or was he this ruthless with everyone? If he was, then he certainly could not have been a very beloved prince.

Thoughts raced, as you slumped yourself down on the end, previous energy quickly disappearing, the more you thought about the angry prince and how you already couldn’t wait for this mission to be over.

“You either explain to your father, or tell him she’s a new maid in the castle,”

Jaebum argued, as Jeongguk had previously voiced his thoughts about just letting you walk freely around the castle, without explaining to anyone who you were and what you were doing here.

The four knights had been arguing back and forth for a good ten minutes, waiting for your appearance on the training field, the sun already starting to bake down uncomfortably on their armor.

“The General will find out about her sooner or later, no matter if you want it or not,”

Jooheon stated, and Jeongguk could not deny the fact that the General was clever enough to quickly find out about the strange girl, suddenly appearing in Jeongguk’s room one night, he sighed.

“What do you want me to tell them? That she’s my personal maid? They won’t buy that, besides I already have one,”

Jeongguk argued back, voice still slightly gruff from the lack of sleep, as sweat began to coat the ends of his hair.

A long silence passed the four of them, when Kyungsoo spoke up, voice sounding slightly insecure.

“You could say she’s your concubine,”

He mumbled, the ends of his ears lightning up like flames, at the thought. 

It was not, nor had it ever been, a secret that Jeongguk’s father had them, but that Jeongguk himself would have a concubine was never something any of them could imagine, let alone his concubine being a summoned Valkyrie they had to hide from everyone else.

“If you think about it, the idea is not half bad, it would explain why she’s in your room, and why she doesn’t do any work around the castle,”

Jaebum states the obvious, and Jeongguk knew, but the embarrassment of calling you his concubine was not something he wanted to undergo.

“I will not call her my concubine-“

Jeongguk started, when a maid, his usual one, appeared by his side.

“The girl has arrived, your highness,”

She informed, and gestured to where you were walking up to them, at the end of the field. Immediately, all four boys focus was on you, as you mindlessly came walking up to them, the grass reaching you knees, and Jeongguk noticed that you were actually clad in the armor he had requested.

It was a little big on you, but it was better than if he had lend you his own armor, the trousers and blouse you were wearing, just slightly visible underneath.

I maid was walking with you, carrying a couple swords and spare armor parts, as you seemed to happily converse with her on your way, much to Jeongguk’s annoyance.

The other three knights had quieted down, silently waiting for you to approach, as they took your attire and features in. Jeongguk was quick to cross his arms over his chest, lightly raising one eyebrow in a way one could only describe as challenging, as he stared you down.

“(y/n),”

Jeongguk announced coldly, as you stepped up besides them, immediately noticing Jeongguk’s challenging tone, and hating yourself for the way it almost made you want to crack a smile, as you stood there under the baking sun.

“Your highness,”

You dryly answered back, noticing the way his eyebrows slightly seemed to twitch in annoyance, at the way your voice was almost dripping with politeness.

“Is there any particular reason as to why I’m here?”

You asked, voice still laced with the bittersweet politeness, making Jeongguk’s blood boil, the air inside his armor even hotter, to the point were it almost felt burning, as his fists clenched and unclenched subconsciously.

“You see that doll over there?”

Jeongguk spoke through clenched teeth, as he pointed to another training doll, one he hadn’t gotten around to completely destroy yet, and you nodded, mouth curving upwards a litte, as you looked to the brownish doll, hanging on a wooden stake. 

The task would be easy, destroy the doll, and show that brat of a prince that you could fight.

Before Jeongguk could say more, you had drawn the sword fastened in your belt, as you threw yourself forwards, in the direction of the doll.

All four boys looked with big eyes, as you went on to completely destroy the poor doll in less than five minutes, and watched with satisfaction as sand flowed out of it, looking like strange, discolored blood.

Jeongguk scoffed, you were only showing off, he could have done the same, even quicker if you asked. 

He scowled at the now empty doll laying in the grass, and came to the conclusion, that he had already damaged it so much that it could have fallen off at any moment, with or without you.

“Jaebum,”

Jeongguk slowly turned to the other boy, who had been watching you with big eyes, placing a hand on his friends shoulder carefully.

“Would you mind?”

Even when it wasn’t obvious, Jaebum knew what his friend meant and he let out a dry chuckle.

“Can’t have a girl being better than you?”

It was the mocking tone he used, one Jeongguk had only came across very few times, when he really had been tiring out his friend, but this time seemed different, and Jeongguk let out a low growl at his friends comment.

“Just do as I say,”

He commanded, and carefully, but strongly shoved Jaebum forwards, till he stepped into the makeshift fighting ring.

Jeongguk crossed his arms once again, looking on with a satisfied expression, as his friend drew his own sword, and making you take a step backwards, hesitantly drawing your own as well.

Kyungsoo scoffed besides him.

“He’s just showing off,”

He rolled his eyes, as Jaebum did the trick he had recently been practicing with Jeongguk, aming his sword for your feet, making you slightly stumble backwards.

“She’s just a girl, go easy on her,”

Jooheon mumbled, from where he was sitting in the shadows, against a tree.

It wasn’t before Jaebum’s third try at cutting your feet off, when you caught on and jumped, landing on his sword, this time making him stumble back, as Jeongguk stared, mouth slightly agape as he saw how you defeated Jaebum like you were twice his age and size.

“What in the world..”

Kyungsoo mumbled besides Jeongguk, as he too watched on with big eyes while his friend got severely defeated by a girl half his size.

You stopped, when you had him up against another tree, sword pointed directly at his throat as you panted slightly, a confident smile stretching over your lips.

Slowly, you removed your blade from the knights neck, and let him step away. You watched, as he made his way over to Jeongguk, putting a hand on his shoulder and patting his back as he mumbled something to the other boy.

Whatever it was, made Jeongguk’s back straighten, as he met your eyes, his dark and stormy, as he slowly began to draw his own sword, walking towards you.

Jeongguk’s expectation of you, had been strongly exceeded, and Jaebum’s loss to you had only spurred him more on, to the point were he was basically boiling and ready to fight you with all he had.

You were good, but he was better.

He knew that, everyone knew that, everyone except for you apparently, as you took a step forwards ready to meet the prince’s blade.

“You think you can beat me?”

You spoke, voice laced with confidence, as you had spend nothing but a lifetime perfecting your fighting skills, and Jeongguk was nothing but a mere human.

“I know I can beat you, don’t test me,”

Jeongguk’s voice was dark and heavy, just like the look in his otherwise kind eyes, which only seemed to spur you more on, and before you knew it, you were drawing your own sword, ready to clash it against the prince’s.

“As you wish, you highness,”

The sound of your swords clashing, filled the otherwise noisy training pit, and instantly all attention were on the two of you, as Jeongguk let out a grunt, when you instantly pushed in back.

He was beyond angry, his body was boiling up inside his amor, and on instinct he started to aim for your chest, sword knocking helplessly into your armor, making you let out a yelp, as it now was your turn to stumble backwards, almost falling over your own feet.

You gasped, as your heel knocked against the edge of the ring surrounding the small battlefield, and met Jeongguk’s triumphant eyes, as the edges of his mouth curled up in a smirk.

Your eyebrows furrowed in anger, and you growled, before pushing your own sword harder against his, pushing him back a little, giving you time to stand up straight, and you instantly aimed for his upper body like he did with you.

Your thoughts were racing, but one thing stood out clear to you; you had to defeat that absolute brat of a prince, if it was the last thing you did.

Your sword hit his chest with a loud clang, and Jeongguk grunted, partially in pain and partially in annoyance, as he now was the one to stumble slightly.

His body was quickly overheating inside the silver armor, making his already boiling blood bubble over completely, and all at once he just snapped, face turning redder than ever before, as he threw himself forward at you with a cry of anger.

His action was unexpected and before you knew it, his sword hit your stomach, the metallic sound echoing through the now silent battlefield, and you felt Jeongguk’s body press against yours, as your feet entangled.

It wasn’t long before the armor entangled in each other as well, binding the two of you together, as you threw your sword angrily to the ground, trying to push him back from you, only to have him push just as angrily against you.

Jeongguk pushed you back, a little harsher than intended, making you completely lose all balance, and you tumbled backwards to the ground with a shriek, Jeongguk following suit after.

With a thump, you landed on the ground, Jeongguk falling down right on top of you, knocking the air out of you, and you gasped and squirmed like a fish on land.

Jeongguk grunted as his body made contact with yours in the dust, metallic noises following suit, as he lifted his head, his bangs gently caressing his cheekbones as he shook his head to get it out of the way, to look down at you.

In the span of just a few seconds, his face turned from red til redder, as he noticed the less than propitiate position you both were in, and his eyes instantly widened, as he met yours, burning with anger.

“Get off,”

You spat, and even with his embarrassment, Jeongguk was quick to roll his eyes, as he let go of his sword, still clasped in his hand, as he placed both of them on the ground besides your head, as he hoisted his upper body up, giving you a chance to breathe as he rolled off of you, face burning with anger and embarrassment.

“Maybe if you didn’t fall, I wouldn’t have landed on you,”

Jeongguk spat, standing up and instantly casting shade over you, still laying in the dust.

“Maybe if you watched where you’re going, I wouldn’t fall,”

You growled up at him, slowly sitting up,as air slowly filled your lungs again.

“Well maybe if you could actually fight-“

Jeongguk was interrupted, when Kyungsoo let our a cough behind him, making the enraged prince to turn around, ready to snap at his three friends standing behind him.

“Jeongguk, control yourself,”

Jaebum was now the one to give Jeongguk orders, and his shoulders slightly slumped as he glared from his friends down to you, still sitting on the ground.

You quickly stood up and brushed yourself off, upon the arrival of his three friends, sweat covering your forehead, and you were quick to brush it away with the back of your hand.

“Thank you for the fight, your highness, now if you’ll excuse me-“

You started, quickly turning around on you heel, about to stomp off, when Jeongguk reaches out with quick fingers, and grabbed your upper arm, almost squeezing it through the armor.

“Not so quick,”

Jeongguk’s voice was dark, he used a voice that could make everyone tremble in fear, everyone except you apparently, as you struggled in his grasp.

“This, is not finished. Meet me here tomorrow, same time, am I clear?”

You nodded your head slightly, looking up at him with a glare as he continued to squeeze your arm.

“Am I clear?”

He asked again, voice demanding and harsh, as you glared up at him, meeting his dark orbs, that showed you nothing but cruelty.

“Yes, your highness,”

You spat out, before quickly yanking your arm from his grasp, picking up your discarded sword, before angrily stomping off, ready to take your newfound anger out on some poor training doll.

Jeongguk let out a long sigh, as he slowly slipped into the almost burning hot water, in the big wooden tub now standing in his room.

He felt all his frustrations slowly float off, into the hot water, and steam slowly began to cloud his mind, blurring the earlier events of the day.

The water was almost as hot, as he had been inside his armor this morning, blood boiling and quickly overheating him, as it flowed anywhere it could reach, especially his brain, messing up his temper and making it harder to fight in the already soaring heat.

His fist clenched tightly, nails digging into his palm, as he thought back to the way, you had mercilessly pushed his friend against a tree ready to slit his throat, and the way you had pushed against his upper body, as you both stumbled to the ground.

The way his armorclad body crushed yours, he vividly remembered the warmth you were emitting, and the way your face lit up in both surprise and embarrassment, cheeks faintly covered in dusty red.

Angrily, his fist collided with the warm water, sending a big wave splashing out of the tub and onto the stone floor.

The warmth of the water sent a strange sensation running up his spine, when he realized how it reminded him of the way your soft fingers gently brushed through his black locks, before he had woken up, and how he hated himself for so abruptly stopping your hand in its motion.

Red crept up his neck, flushing his face and ears, in both anger and embarrassment to be thinking of you. You, the only hope his kingdom had left, and even though he had watched with big eyes as you defeated his friend, he still wouldn’t let himself believe that you could take on an army, let alone two.

His eyes closed momentarily, as he let his guard down, thoughts whisking him away to a better time, before the many wars and the boarders being sat up between the kingdoms.

Before long, his mind found its way back to you, and with a long, aggravated sigh, he opened his eyes, only to feel something straining in his lower regions.

His eyes widened a little, when he looked down and discovered how his member was standing proudly in the water, just as red and angry as him.

He let out a hiss, as his palm came down to gently rub the head, sitting like a puffy, pink mushroom on top of his cock, leaking the smallest amount of precum already.

The rest of his hand came down to wrap around his base, slowly sliding up and down in the water, as small pants and breathy whines began to leave his mouth in a jumbled mess. 

As his mind went wild, he couldn’t help but imagine what it could have felt like to have your soft hands wrapped around him, instead of his own, slightly rough ones.

He let out a shaky breath, as he began to stroke faster, steadily approaching his climax, the more he imagined it to be your small hand, steadily going up and down his shaft, thump gently caressing the head and smearing the increasing amount of precum up and down his shaft as you went along.

His head tilted back to lean against the tub, his throat blotted to the air as his Adam’s apple bobbled, almost violently, the more grunts and whines he let out.

He stroked himself one more time, a little harsher, and with a deep grunt, he came into his own hand, letting his head press even more onto the side of his bathtub, as his body went limp and tired.

“y-y/n,”

He grunted, his head tilted back against the tub, wet hair sticking to his forehead, almost covering his eyes, as his pretty mouth opened in pants and gasps of your name.

His body buckled up against his hand, thick streams of cum continuously shooting out from his cock, mixing with the bath water.

He let his hand fall limply to his side, when his cock began to slowly soften, and his eyes shot open in realization of what he had just done, only adding to the fuel inside him.

He couldn’t let you deceive him like this.

Angrily, he shook his head to get rid of the hair in his eyes.

No, he couldn’t let himself slip up like this again.

#bts #bts x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook prince au #jungkook x reader #bts fantasy au #bts masterlist #jeon jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jeongguk #jungoo #jeon jungguk

[january3693]

002: Narcissa, and also Lily; 001: dorcas/Marlene, and lucissa

That’s a lot, but here you go!

002 Narcissa

How I feel about this character: She’ll never be my favorite, but I do love sticking her in as a snarky, snobby side character.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: I don’t actively ship her, but I think she and Lucius are probably well-suited for each other, and since I don’t have super strong ship opinions on her, I’m open to reading and embracing anything presented to me.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I like the idea of her and Regulus being close. She’s the baby in her family, but Regulus is the baby in the family overall, so I think she would have felt very protective of him and tried to shelter him but also steer him toward more traditional pureblood values if she ever thought he was wavering or acting a bit too much like Sirius. She was devastated when she heard about his death, even more so when she learned it was (supposedly) caused when he tried to defect from the Death Eaters. Narcissa sees a lot of Regulus in Draco and it scares her.

My unpopular opinion about this character: Lucius probably didn’t care much about all of the stuff Draco complained to him about, but Narcissa did. She was the one who always pushed Lucius to take care of anything that hurt or inconvenienced their son.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish she had some on the page interactions with more characters. There’s so many she’s related to or would have known that it’s a shame we never go to see her show a bit more complexity when directly confronted with Sirius, Andromeda, or Tonks.

my OTP: Probably Lucius just because it’s canon and Narcissa isn’t a character I spend much time shipping. I like her potential, just

my cross over ship: I don’t read cross overs

a headcanon fact: After Regulus’s death, it was Narcissa who sent a letter to Sirius (care of Andromeda) telling Sirius the facts (such as she believed them to be) about his brother’s death.

002 Lily

How I feel about this character: She’s fantastic! I love her, and I love writing her!

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Generally just James. I do enjoy some Jegulily too, but that’s about it. I see Lily as a character who could be very happy and lead a fulfilling life without a romantic partner, so if I’m not shipping her with James I generally just picture her having casual flings and otherwise enjoying life as a happy, confident single woman.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Sirius and Lily! I mean, I wrote a 100,000 word fic about them becoming friends (also some other stuff happened, but mostly friendship). I think they would have really challenged each other (which would have made them struggle to get along for a while, but once they connected it would have been very good for both of them). They called each other on their bullshit, weren’t afraid to yell at each other, but genuinely listened to each other and always apologized the next morning when they fought.

My unpopular opinion about this character: I don’t know if it’s an unpopular opinion, but I think she struggled with self-confidence and self-worth a lot more than most people ever knew. She was probably very good at hiding it behind perfectionism and some rather exhausting facades. The reason she fell in love with James was because he had this perfect mix of pushing and supporting her in a way that finally allowed her to relax and be fully her imperfect self with someone, and that was priceless.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Honestly, the thing I want most is for her to have had some ghostly/afterlife/other moment where she absolutely rips into Snape and all the terrible things he did in his “love” for her.

my OTP: Jily. We don’t know from canon how exactly these two went from antagonistic to deeply in love, but what little we do know implies a story of personal growth, second chances, adventure, and deep, deep love, and that’s gorgeous.

a headcanon fact: Her favorite band is ABBA.

001 Dorcas Meadowes/Marlene McKinnon

when I started shipping it if I did: I probably started shipping it while reading We Were Infinite by @wewereinfinitelywolfstar​. That might not have been the first time I encountered it, but it was the first time it made a mark and made the characters feel real and shippable.

my thoughts: I like this ship a lot! It’s definitely drenched in that First War tragedy, but still gotta love more wlw ships, and that’s what AUs and canon-divergent fics are for.

What makes me happy about them: We no almost next to nothing about these two, so they’re basically blank slates to build upon. I personally head canon them as a Slytherin/Gryffindor couple and love playing with that dynamic. I also love the opportunity to build heroic Slytherin characters.

What makes me sad about them: Canon, obviously. Making them a couple does also add to the “dead lesbians” and “bury your gays” tropes, which sucks.

things done in fanfic that annoys me: It’s pretty common for Marlene to have a tomboy-ish or more wild personality in fics, which is cool, but Dorcas doesn’t seem to get as much personality in a lot of fics where these two appear.

things I look for in fanfic: Well-developed characterizations, often AUs or canon divergent fics that don’t leave them dead.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: I’m down for Marlene and Sirius as a ship (Blackinnon). As for Dorcas, I have such strong headcanons about her, but I haven’t really thought about other ships for her. I’d be open to suggestions or whatever I encounter in fics, but honestly in my head canons, Dorcas is very ambitious and career-oriented (falling for Marlene was unexpected and not part of the plan), so I could see her too busy to have a romantic relationship or finding a spouse who could aid or complement her career ambitions.

My happily ever after for them: They live through the war, adopt a couple of orphans. Marlene coaches youth Quidditch teams for their kids and has some sort of freelance job she can do while being flexible schedule-wise. Dorcas rises through the ranks at the Ministry and is elected Minister for Magic instead of Cornelius Fudge. She fucking crushes it. When she’s served a few terms and the kids are out of school, Dorcas takes a job as ambassador to some other country and she and Marlene see more of the world and attend lots of fancy embassy dinner parties.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: They don’t really spoon. Marlene flops like a starfish in bed and Dorcas tends to sleep on her stomach or side. They do cuddle on the couch though, and Marlene likes to lay her head in Dorcas’s lap and have Dorcas scratch at her scalp and finger comb her hair.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Dancing. One of their first dates was a disastrous Muggle dance class where neither of them realized the Muggle instructor wouldn’t understand that they were there as a couple and paired them up with various male partners. They both managed to laugh through it and went home and practiced with each other. After that, they learned a lot of different dances and one of them will often spontaneously pull the other into a dance across the kitchen or living room, even if there’s no music on. They take turns leading.

001 Lucissa

(sorry if this one’s a little disappointing)

when I started shipping it if I did: I don’t really ship it, but I don’t not ship it either, if that makes sense.

my thoughts: I don’t actively ship it. It’s there, it’s canon. I’m fine with it. I just don’t put much thought into the relationship.

What makes me happy about them: They both seem to care for their son very deeply.

What makes me sad about them: I’m sad that we didn’t get to see more of Narcissa sooner, otherwise no real sad feelings toward them.

things done in fanfic that annoys me: When the criminal acts they (particularly Lucius) commit are excused way too easily, or they change their politics way too swiftly and seamlessly.

things I look for in fanfic: I don’t really look for this ship in fics. If it’s there I’m usually fine with it, if not, that’s fine too. I do like fics that give me more of Narcissa’s complexity and inner conflict though. She’s clearly got layers.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: I really don’t put enough thought into these characters and their love lives to ship them with other characters. I’m open to it though. No strong preexisting feelings mean I’m pretty open-minded to new ships for these two.

My happily ever after for them: Actually having to make some restitution for their crimes/wrongdoings, then probably moving away from Britain to live quietly in like Monaco or somewhere.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: Honestly, they probably have separate bedrooms.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Plotting political coups while drinking very expensive wine.

Send me some HP Character asks!

[stabhappyslashers]

Bubba Sawyer & Chop Top head canons?? [NSFW]

Hell yeah, Best Boys, here we go:

BUBBA SAWYER:

He has close to absolutely no idea what he’s doing and he knows it.

VERY nervous the first time– And you’ll be able to tell, cause he’ll go from 100 to 10 in excitement when he realizes he doesn’t know what to do next

He’s still incredibly eager to please, but the fact that he doesn’t know how is something he Very Much Doesn’t Like

Drayton’s tried to give the boys the Talk before, but he’s terrible at it

You’re going to have to encourage him all the way through, this boy gets worried easily

He’ll try his best, but he’s just going to need some [a lot of,] instruction along the way.

Communication Is Key

He honestly loves just getting to kiss you, he could do it for hours if it weren’t for Blue Balls and a busy schedule

The most Gentle Boy at first, especially when it comes to pleasuring you

Can get unintentionally rough and grabby when you start getting him real worked up– If it bothers you, It’s easy to get him temporarily aware of it by a quick warning or command to ease up

He’ll end up getting distracted again eventually, though

When he gets the hang of it, he LOVES eating you out

It’s the perfect opportunity for him to Do Good and bask in all your noises and praise, and let’s be honest he loves the taste

He can’t hold his own noises back for shit so those extra vibrations down there are Great

He’ll stay down there as long as you want him to– you’ll probably have to physically pry him away and get his attention if you want to move on or if you’re getting too sensitive

He’s too shy to ask for it, but he loves being on the receiving end just as much

It feels good to Feel Good, and when you’re down there he can comb his hands through your hair and play with it

He’ll whine and moan and babble incoherently through it all

He’ll try not to buck up against you too much but ten times out of ten he’ll fail

Gets more frantic and thrusty the closer he is to release

He loves seeing your face during it all– the only issue is, he doesn’t like you seeing his

If you’re on top, he’s a flustering mess, and he’ll try and hide his face in his hands

If he’s on top, he’s a bit too occupied to try that, but he’ll still attempt to duck down and out of sight when he knows he’s making a face

He’s too soft and turned on to struggle away if you cup his face to prevent it

Honestly, If you act soft and fluffy in bed, he’ll cry

Body Worship, whispering cheesy sappy things in his ear, spending time to please him and touch him, telling him all the things you love about him = All things that will make Bubba cry

It’s all the little things that show him you love him

He’s not used to any of it, but he is so, so grateful to have you

He’s not good at being confident of it, and his self-esteem will get in the way, you’ll have to remind him you still love him to death a lot

He’s no good at being rough and controlling, if you want that shit you’re not gonna get it with him

He Loves You Too Much, he doesn’t want to hurt you, not you,

He’ll try anything once if you’re into it, but some things are just going to give him too much anxiety,

That being said, he enjoys trying new things in the bedroom as long as It’s backed up with lots of encouragement, and generally kept light-hearted

Pull Out Game Weak

He likes coming inside you; It’s nice and warm and a lot of the times he’s too busy squeezing you in a really tight hug during it all to pull away in time anyway

He doesn’t like condoms, either, he doesn’t like how they feel, doesn’t like the barrier

If you’re really adamant about it he’ll listen, but not without some upset

You can probably figure out a way to distract him into not caring [If you catch it in time,]

Like with an extra encouraging blowjob or telling him you really want it somewhere that Isn’t at risk of pregnancy

After It’s all over he’s the most sleepy, cuddly boy

Expect a lot of comforting pets and pats

If he can get away with falling asleep or a nap, you know he’ll drift in your arms

But if he can’t, he’ll stay snuggled up next to you until the anxiety over not getting his chores done overtakes his need for affection

KINKS: Breeding, Queening/Facesitting, Praise, Oral [Giving/Receiving], Body Worship, Exhibitionism [To an extent; he’ll put on a show for you if he can really tell you’re actively enjoying it, because this boy loves to be loved, but It’s really easy for him to immediately feel embarrassed if he thinks you’re not into it], Knismolagnia, Dress up [seeing you in pretty clothes, getting dressed up in pretty clothes], Sensation Play

CHOP TOP SAWYER:

What do you mean he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he’s seen his fair share of porn

The most jittery uncontrolled fucking mess if you let him do his own thing.

Will shamelessly dry hump you to completion if you don’t get him under control

Rough, but not deliberately, he just has 0 impulse control

Will manhandle you like hell without thinking, his body works faster than his mind does.

If it bugs you, don’t worry– this boy is a twig. He knows his way around a scrap and he’s pretty fuckin’ resilient, but when it comes to brute force, If you really want to, It couldn’t be that hard to turn that manhandling on him, and honestly he won’t mind.

Anything you do in the context of getting laid turns him on.

Tying him up is a good way to get him to just sit still for a minute; he’ll find a way to wiggle out of it somehow no matter how tight you tie those ropes or bind those cuffs, after a bit, anyway. It’s like a magic trick.

Flexible– you can bend him any way you want, he don’t mind. It’s kinda fun, some a’ these positions HE didn’t even know he could do!

Giggly as HELL. Literally won’t shut up. If he’s not rambling or trying [and sorta failing, he’ll forget his verbal goal in less than a second and be onto another topic, and It’s pretty easy to tell when he’s directly fucking quoting one of the cheesy pornos he got his grubby hands on in the past,] to talk dirty he’s laughing or moaning or both.

Let him cut you up in bed. Just a lil, he’ll just cut you a lil, let him do it,

Use that knife on him.

Hell, let him use his own knife on himself, he’s into it all.

If he’s got access to a radio you’re definitely going to fuck to rock ‘n roll, baby, there’s no avoiding it. Music is his liiife–

It can help with his rhythm, a bit, too– if you want him to do some of the work and actually succeed, your best bet is to get him to follow the beat of the songs that play

If he isn’t actively being restrained, foreplay won’t last long

Don’t get him wrong, It’s not that he doesn’t dig it, but if the clothes come off and he gets impatient or impulsive he’s gonna shove it in.

Into anything and everything if you offer it up. The guy doesn’t know what shame even is and he’s just excited to be doing it all in the first place.

He doesn’t know exactly what he likes until you give him a little experience– basically all of his sexual knowledge comes from chats in ‘Nam and Drayton telling him “It’s a hassle,” and a good amount of cheap and stolen porn; he doesn’t think of it much outside of getting off until you come around

Giving him some attention is one of the best ways to get him to stop picking at his plate, for a little while, and put down that damn hanger

If you’re willing to go down on him just expect to have to hold his hips and deal with your hair being tugged and yanked around by fidgeting hands because if you don’t that thing is going down your throat whether you like it or not.

He might kick you from excitement at the feeling if you don’t watch out– he’s not adverse to throwing his legs over your shoulders and squeezing you further around him, either.

He is just as eager to return the favor if you ask

He might need a little direction at first, but the second he gets the hang of it he’ll go to TOWN

And that boy’s got a tongue

He’s better at getting you off with his mouth than with his dick, let’s be honest here

The Sawyer Pull Out Game In general is Weak As Fuck, it runs in the family

Definitely would go out of his way to obtain the most ridiculous fucking condoms if you need the protection

Glow in the dark, weird ass flavors, tuxedo condoms, Animal-shaped, Bright Neon Colors!!!

Would actively try to blow on up like a balloon, during sex, just cause he thought of it, and HE thinks It’s funny,

He might not last crazy long but he can go SEVERAL rounds. This bitch has so much energy to release, you’re going to have to manage to tire him out before you pass out yourself if you want him staying remotely still to cuddle up to, afterwards.

In those moments, he’s all sluggish octopus limbs and HE’LL be the one whining about it if you try and move or get up.

A weird, mumbly, rambly pillow talk will ensue until he just up and blacks out probably mid conversation.

You’ll notice it too, this dude snores.

KINKS: Knifeplay [Giving/Receiving], Bloodplay [Giving/Receiving], Breathplay [Giving/Receiving], Amputees, Biting [Giving/Receiving], Scratching, Pain in general, Piercing, Face Fucking, Sounding, etc. 

- MOD SPARKY

#Texas Chainsaw Massacre #Texas Chainsaw #Texas Chainsaw 2 #Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 #Bubba Sawyer #Chop Top Sawyer #Leatherface #Drayton Sawyer #Slashers #Slasher Imagines #Bubba Sawyer x Reader #Chop Top Sawyer x Reader #Bubba Sawyer Imagine #Chop Top Sawyer Imagine

[littlemisskookie]

One Thousand and One

One Thousand and One Ship: Aladdin!Namjoon | Jinni!Reader Description: Inspired by The Forbidden Wish, 1001 Arabian Nights, and Aladdin. Your lamp has been found in a garden not of ruins, but of gems, by a peasant who’s hopelessly in love with a princess. Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Intercourse, Oral, Fingering, Mirror Sex, Denied Orgasms, Master Kink, Infidelity, Hair Pulling, Rough Sex? Multiple Orgasms, Dirty Talk, Creampie, Unprotected Sex, Violence, Death, Attempted Sexual Assault? Slight Gore, Slow Burn Word Count: 33,095 A/N: This took so long to write, so I hope you enjoy! Also happy 2 year anniversary!

A city of wonders sunk into the sea A betrayer going down with thee

The survivor escaped though not of free will And slowly but surely They'd forget how to feel

You are smoke, the shade of a dark royal blue when painters wish to add color around the stars for an otherwise bleak night. You expand and retract, pulsing like the heartbeat that you lack. The opening haunts you, your one exit, though you cannot billow out and soar to the skies of your own accord. You'd forever be encased and ensnared in this barless prison of gold and ivory, pushing fruitlessly against the walls, yearning for even the slightest brush of a palm against the now dusty surface.

Your senses are tingling, and you feel the presence of someone else, causing your ears to ring. Never had your lamp felt smaller, and you feel yourself expanding, the wisps of smoke straining against the walls as someone enters the cave.

You had been stuck in this underground garden for years- centuries ago by your previous master. They had used their last wish: a garden that bore fruit in the most dazzling form of jewels. However, to get to the priceless relics, one must first walk through a room of copper coins, where pebbles litter the road before them, fools echoing words to encourage the newcomer to take fistfuls of coins. They were petty and greedy, wishing to help the cave subject others to the same fate. In the second room, there were hills of silver, and far more pebbles littered the ground. Before there were whispers of encouragement, but now there was idle chatter, filling the mind and clouding one's thoughts.

Finally, in the third room before the garden of jewels, there were mountains of gold. Not a single centimeter of the ground was cleared, pebbles and rocks covering each square inch, every victim screaming at the top of their lungs, rattling the walls as their cries echoed across the corners of the room. They'd urge the newcomer to take a single coin and have their entire life changed, saving them from perishing and poverty with just one gold piece. Temptation always got the best of them, for if the fool gave in and so much as touched a single piece, they'd be transformed into a pebble no bigger than the size of one's palm, and be forgotten forever.

It feels as though alarms are going off in your ears, and you silently urge the person to draw closer, stepping with bare feet over the pebbles in the room of copper. You yearned for them to free you from this prison, where your previous master had so lovingly kept you, knowing it'd take centuries before you'd be freed and beckoned again. They were selfish like that.

You feel your makeshift heartbeat pound harder as the man crosses the room of copper and steps into the one filled with silver. You had been disappointed time and time again, let it be grand knights seeking glory, or greedy princes wishing for more power than possible. As the newcomer draws nearer, his presence is easier for you to distinguish. He is different, for through your sixth sense you know that he wears no extravagant silks and carries no weapons. He has no shoes, and calluses cover his feet and fingers. He wears shabby clothes and his hair is uncombed, but with each step closer, you make out his face. You wait with bated breath as he enters the gold room, overtaken by the screams of previous fools, as well as the stupendous mountains of gold that were stories high. One of your more impressive wishes, that was for sure.

Had you a breath, you would be holding it, your chest tight as you feel each step he takes. It's as though a tremor shakes the ground beneath his soles, and you tense. Your bottle begins to rattle with excitement as the man's muscles tighten as he eventually forces himself with hesitant steps to exit the room of gold, entering the enchanted garden. Never before had anyone gotten this far, and you feel your lamp shift ever so slightly, enamored by the boy. Was this the day? Centuries and millenniums of waiting, and here was your savior?

The boy walks past the glittering jewels, his eyes twinkling up at the fruits with distrust. He dares not to lay a finger on them, knowing all too well what would've happened if he had done the same in the previous rooms. The jewels are safe, however, as you know. What you would make into your mouth, however, were simply wisps of smoke, and you were unable to tell him that it was safe. Besides, you were impatient, so terribly, terribly impatient. You wanted out.

Come to me. Find me, O Wanderer. Your rags shall transform to silks and the gold in this cave shall be used to make you a palace of splendor, shall you simply free me.

The man steps closer to the altar where your lamp resides, his steps hesitant. You sense a sharp jawline, copper eyes and honey gold skin. Thick lips and short lashes, as well as a perfectly sculpted nose. His limbs were long and his stature tall, proportions one of a doll, a model that any designer would beg to have. The Gods had done a marvelous job with this one, and you knew it'd be a pity should he wish to alter his appearance with any form of glamour. His vision was one of perfection, even if he were covered in grime and dirt.

His hands shakily pick up your lamp, and you still, waiting for even the slightest movement of his thumb against the golden walls of your chamber.

"So this is it," he breathed, his voice breathy as he admires the lamp, though a thick coat of dust prevents it from gleaming properly in all of its glory. "Made kings abandon their lives of splendor only to vanish into thin air, huh?"

You sense a smile, his eyes squinting up. "I suppose that makes me better than any king, then, huh?" He chuckles as he says the words aloud, finding it rather amusing.

And there it is. Soon enough he's wiping away the thick coat of dust, and you feel your muscles stretch, smoke billowing out of the spout of the lamp. You fill the room, a presence larger than life, an air of magic encompassing the two of you.

He falls back, staggering, though clutching the lamp closely to his chest. He is frightened by your gesture of smoke and grandeur- how amusing. You assume an old form to your liking, long and gangly limbs with smooth skin, and long, shiny locks that tumble down your shoulders, cascading like a liquid sky. You smirk with your newly sculpted lips, a seductive look as you drape yourself in silks of blue fit for a queen. Your eyes, however, you cannot change- a liquid gold color that every dying sunset envies. Every master of yours knew you were a vision to behold, Jinni or not.

"What are you?" the boy questions, blinking up at you. You might look like a girl, but you most certainly were more than that- far more.

You look at him with new eyes, ones you haven't opened in a millennium. "I am fire, I am flame. It is of smoke from which I came. Bound to the lamp until I'm freed, and three wishes I grant unto thee. I serve you, Master, O Wanderer, owner of my lamp. I am a Jinni who's magic is yours to bend to your will. How may I serve you?"

"I heard of your kind from stories," he whispered. He's certainly handsome- your sixth sense didn't do him justice. Though with your new eyes you're able to see through the dim light how regal he looks- even if he were dressed as a peasant. "Silver of tongue and able to twist a man's desires against him- sent here by the God's to destroy us with pleasures. But you... aren't what I was expecting."

You quirk a brow. "What tales describe me? A three-horned beast with skin as red as a devil's?"

"Some," he hums. "But I wasn't expecting a... girl."

"Would you prefer if I alter my appearance?" You purse your lips, circling him. You shift into a silver tiger, black stripes painted so beautifully over your muscled back, though your golden eyes give you away easily. You run towards him, billowing around him like smoke, curling over his frame until you materialize behind him once more, back into your assumed form of a girl. It feels good to demonstrate the magic you use at will, as though stretching out your limbs after being tied for hours. You sense how tense he is from your display. "I cannot hurt you, O Master. The lamp forbids me from hurting the owner- you have nothing to fear."

You sense his muscles relax at that, and he grins. "I prefer you as a girl- you're far prettier than I would've expected."

"How many Jinn have you met?" you question, scoffing slightly.

"None- but I've met a lot of pretty girls. You're easily one of the top ten," he laughs. His grin stretches across his face, a genuine smile. After all these years, you still weren't used to seeing that. Mortals tend to lie without words.

"This is simply a glamour. I have no true form, nor no true name. I am nothing more than smoke and have no true identity. It is in that sense that I'm allowed to do the desires you mere mortals yearn to fulfill," you answer.

"You can't possibly not have a name," the man scoffs. "Surely you were given one- even for a Jinn."

You close your eyes, long lashes fluttering against the apples of your cheeks. It wasn't the first time a master had asked for your name, let it be to give you a new one or simply to help them call you more directly when you were by their side- glamour or in secret.

"Y/N," you speak, the name rolling off the tip of your silver tongue. It had been too long since you have spoken it, and even longer since you heard it. "And your name, Master?"

His eyes wandered over you appreciatively, still gawking at what he had witnessed and what stood before him. Something neither demon nor angel, but far more cunning, wicked, and powerful than anything in his realm. His eyes glint in the dim light at this realization, and you know a thousand and one thoughts run across his mind at the endless possibilities.

"Namjoon."

You bow lowly to him, a mere servant at his feet. With all of your might and your power, you remain humble in front of the mortal. "How may I serve you, Master Namjoon?"

"Namjoon's fine- I'm not so fond of the title," he chuckles nervously in response.

You nod your head demurely, eyes glinting and calculating as you soak in your surroundings, the jewels still glittering around you. "As you wish," you say. You look around the room, breathing in the air of the underground garden, the sweet scents clouding your mind.

Namjoon is finally able to look back in awe at the garden, no longer so distracted by his mission. He wipes at the lamp, as though he were polishing it with the rough skin of his hands. "This place is beautiful," he said softly, his words breathy and eyes wide.

"Thank you," you say, feeling pride swell in your chest. You hadn't truly seen the garden in many, many years. It really was one of your prized wishes. "I did it myself."

"You made this?" Namjoon questioned, turning back with a quirked brow.

You can't help but grin at how impressed he seems, and follow him down the steps as he takes a closer look. "Of course. I made this cave, traps and all. My last master wished for a garden of jewels and gold, apples of rubies and pears of peridot. Leaves and grass of jade, accompanied with trunks of gold. They were selfish, however, and fearful- wanting no one else to steal one of their prized possessions. And so three rooms were made, or traps, more accurately, where one misplaced touch damns you to eternity as an unfeeling, unmoving rock. They kept their selfish streak, for once they used their third and final wish, they left my lamp here, knowing that as sought after as it would be, from kings to knights to peasants, no one would be worthy enough to greet me."

"That sounds terrible," Namjoon said lowly, looking at the garden with less admiration for its splendor and instead as the prison it truly was. "What was their last wish?"

You smile bitterly at the memory, the wish you granted still tingling and ingrained, able to taste the magic on your tongue still. "For the husband of the woman they loved to die a painful death."

"You have the power to make someone die?" Namjoon questions, his voice hesitant.

"Anyone has the power to make someone die- I simply make sure the blood isn't on my master's hands. People aren't fond of doing the dirty work," you tell him simply. "It's death and time that I cannot reverse. My power isn't as infinite as one would be led to believe- for even I have my limitations, though they aren't nearly as constrained as your own. In exchange for my powers comes my freedom."

You step forward to one of the trees, one that held fruit forged from sapphires, glittering more brightly than any diamond. You pluck it from a golden branch, turning to offer it to Namjoon, though he looks tense, afraid to touch it. You reach for the hand that isn't holding the lamp and note how strongly you can feel his pulse. His skin is warm, and he feels truly alive, filled with life where you were filled with smoke. Pity he has what you lack- a soul. You push away the thoughts, gently placing the glittering jewel in his hand, letting him feel the weight as you set it in his palm. "You're allowed to have as many of the jewels as you want, for once we leave the cave it'll disappear into no more than ruins."

Your hand slips out of Namjoon, and you immediately feel the absence of warmth. He weighs the fruit in his hand, admiring it. It didn't take so much as half a brain that what he held in his hand was perhaps worth more than his entire house. Assuming he even had a home, however.

"How do we even get out of here?" he asks you, plucking more fruit in abundant amounts, struggling to cradle them in his arms. You wring your hands, and between your palms fabric appears, weaving together to form a satchel. You open it for him to drop the jewels, his movements slow and delicate, scared of breaking the priceless relics.

"You may wish yourself out or come back from where you entered," you answered, stoic.

"The entrance- right," Namjoon said, nodding.

"You may want to hurry, however. The moment you begin to leave, the cave will begin collapsing upon itself. Without my presence and magic to uphold this place, it'll unravel," you warn. "My magic can last eons- but it was another tally upon the qualities my previous master added to the garden."

"I suppose we've got to go, then. I'm not wasting a wish when I've been running my whole life," Namjoon grins, licking his lips as he takes in a long breath. Filling the bag to the brim with fruit from every tree, he grasps your hand tightly, sprinting. You dash beside him easily, his grip tight where you wouldn't slip out. You wonder if he knows that you could simply shift into an animal, but he seems content with keeping you close.

The ceiling and walls shake, rocks tumbling down. Cracks follow, nipping at your heels as the two of you flee, and you feel Namjoon's heartbeat quicken dangerously, adrenaline pumping through his veins, his energy radiating throughout you from where the two of you were bound. He's focused, however, shoving the lamp into the satchel, his feet barely touching the ground as he flies on. You pass the rooms of riches, the gold, silver, and copper melting as you pass by. The voices of victims screech and cry out for help, knowing this was truly their doom, and that they'd be overtaken by rubble within seconds.

You sense it before you see it, the large boulder, a massive chunk of the roof of the cave, cracks forming along the ridges before it descends directly above the two of you. Namjoon looks up, the slab of rock nearing closer and closer to your impending doom with each second. "Look out!" he quickly screeches, pushing you aside, shoving you roughly. You dissipate into smoke before you hit the ground, wondering to yourself how foolish the boy could've been. Jinn could feel pain, but it would take far more than a boulder to kill you.

The boulder is perhaps a mere ten feet above Namjoon's head when he blurts out the words. "I wish we were outside the palace!" he says, squeezing his eyes shut.

A poor fisherman caught a lamp accidentally releasing a monster "If you had released me 1000 years before I'd give you riches and more 100 years ago 3 wishes galore But alas, too late It's time for you to meet your fate." The fearful mortal tricked the beast Trapping it back in its prison Through trickery and deceit And the lamp floated on.

You feel the magic of his wish fill you, coursing through you the way blood pumps through veins. In the blink of an eye, the world around you shifts, from a crumbling cave to a grand palace, outside the walls and staring up at the marble structure. The sky is dark, stars twinkling above in form of lights, and luckily enough the guards outside the gates were barely out of sight, unable to see your transportation.

Namjoon looks pale, his face tinged with green as he doubles over, clutching the satchel to his chest as he pukes, hurling his guts on the dirt beneath his feet. It wasn't good for mortals to teleport- wasn't good for their stomachs. Weak things, really.

You pity seeing him so sick, warmth blooming in your chest as you think of how he attempted to save you when it was really he in mortal peril. You hadn't seen that sort of selflessness in eons- trapped or not.

"Are you alright?" you question, rubbing his back as he spits out the rest. "I had to act quickly- I should've warned you."

"It's fine- the good thing is we're safe. I was foolish for thinking I could escape so easily," Namjoon horked, sputtering. "Can't believe that old man was right- you're real."

You quirk a brow. "Old man?"

"I didn't tell you how I came upon you?" Namjoon asks, mimicking your quirked brow. You shake your head, the question now bubbling up, and you found curiosity pecking at your core. Namjoon hummed. "Well, to put it simply, I want something impossible. The man overheard me and told me that it wouldn't be so impossible- so he asked me if I knew the legend of the last Jinn."

"The legend of the last Jinn?" You were unfamiliar with this story- and ironically it was supposedly yours.

"There's a legend that there's one last jinni who can grant wishes- not just some ifreet of fire or ghul of corpses. The most powerful entity known to man, but it had disappeared, hidden to a gave of unimaginable riches. Men far and wide search for the hidden jinni, wanting their darkest desires to be granted. None succeeded, however, and many disappeared," Namjoon tells you. "So the old man directed me, saying to follow the moon for three days. On the third night, a hidden cave would reveal itself to whoever was looking for it. Once entering though, the person wouldn't be allowed to touch anything but the lamp."

"So, what is it this impossible task you wish for me to accomplish?" you ask him, leaning in to have your lips brush his ear. "Ask for it and it shall be yours. Power? Riches? Revenge? I've heard it all, my boy. I can give you gifts of golden touch or a silver tongue, and you will be incomparable."

"It isn't talents or gold that I yearn for," Namjoon tells you politely. He grasps your hand, beaming at you. "Let me show you."

The two of you walked around the walls that surrounded the palace, until getting to a section where patchy vines covered a side of it. Namjoon tugged at it before hoisting himself up, looking down at you. "Be careful- it can be slippery. Trust me when I say that it's a brutal fall."

You find it somewhat endearing that he cares so much about your safety, even if it is pointless. You feel the air push against the soles of your feet, and you levitate to sit at the edge of the wall, atop of it, though masked by the darkness, the moonlight and stars acting as the only things to reveal you. You bring Namjoon up, steadying him to make sure he doesn't fall.

Namjoon points over to a balcony towards the back of the palace, where there stood a figure. She had long raven hair, a nightgown of silk and dark skin that looked luminescent in the moonlight, having her glow with the warmth of a candle.

Namjoon's eyes were adoring, and he leaned in, as though yearning to get a better look, positively entranced. His eyes were starry, and a smile tugged at his lips. He radiated with admiration, and it clicked.

"You love her," you stated simply, nodding to her.

"Yeah," Namjoon gulped. "I do."

"So she's your impossible task, hm?" You hadn't seen someone so swoony in ages- it was adorable in a sense.

"I heard her singing once before when I was searching for scraps. I was so entranced- it was the most beautiful sound. Once I was able to see her, I was hooked. She was gorgeous," Namjoon sighed. "But she's a princess. That's the complication."

"Ask for her to love you, and she'll be devoted," you tell him. "She will be yours and yours alone."

Namjoon shakes his head. "I don't want to force her to love me. That'd... that'd be cruel. I want her to love me from her own free will."

"Love is never of free will," you state simply. "If it were, there would be far fewer complications."

Namjoon soaks in your words, trying to decipher the underlying wisdom in them. "She'd never love a peasant like me. No one would."

"Have you even decided how you'd win her?" From the look on his face, you can tell it's a no. "I suppose you can't make up your mind just yet- and I won't impose and decide your wish for you. Take your time, and think wisely. I've seen many men make wishes they regret, whether that be from my own twists and turns, or from their own foolishness. I'd make it quickly, however- a jinni rarely has the same master for long."

-

One hundred and fifty steps. That was the invisible perimeter around your lamp, so long as your master kept it on his person. Namjoon didn't let go of the lamp, thankfully, keeping it out of wandering eyes of his own kind, tucked away in the belt of his worn pants. It wasn't until the two of you got to a damaged and worn down building half-filled with sand. You had to climb over the wooden posts and figures that blocked your path until the two of you made it to a rug and some bundled up scraps of clothes to form a makeshift pillow.

"It's not much, but it's home," Namjoon said, beaming at the makeshift bed, though in the dark you knew that his cheeks were glowing and rosy, despite how well he masked his shame in his voice. "I'll let you have the pillow tonight."

You shake your head, taking in a deep breath of the night air and dust as you did so, letting it enter through your nostrils into your smoke -filled husk. "I don't need to sleep- I've slept for a millennium. You take the pillow."

"Suit yourself," Namjoon shrugged, flopping down on the carpet, dust flying out and sand shifting beneath it. "Y'know, I stole a mattress once. Pretty neat, too. Worn and squeaky, but better than this. Unfortunately, I had to ditch it since palace guards found out where I was hiding and chased me out."

You frown, settling beside him and laying down, his head elevated above yours through the layers of cloth beneath his head. "Where are your parents?" you question, the words careful and hesitant.

Oddly enough, he doesn't seem to so much as tense at the mention of his parents. "They're dead," he says simply, the words soft on his chapped lips. "I was pretty well off, actually. We were in the middle class- but they were murdered. My mom was attacked, and when my dad attempted to rescue her... well, neither came out alive."

"I'm sorry to hear of your loss," you say, your voice laced with sympathy. "Woe to those who forgo grievances bigger than their hearts can bear."

"It's alright. I was young at the time, but not young enough that I couldn't figure out how to survive on my own," Namjoon laughs. He taps his noggin, turning to you and grinning. "My mom says I've got the brain of a scholar. I probably would've become one if I didn't become homeless."

"Is that what you'll wish for? A proper home? Books? Opportunities?" you question, knowing that any number of things could make his situation significantly better. You knew without a doubt that Namjoon would appreciate whatever he was given, in contrast to many previous masters you tended for.

"I'll figure it out in the morning," Namjoon yawns, stretching his long, gangly limbs to the sky. He blinks slowly, a drowsy smile making the corners of his lips curl upwards. He points over to a small crack in the wall that led to the outside world, no doubt letting far more bugs in than preferred. "If you angle your head just right, and close one eye, you can see part of the palace through the hole in the wall. Sometimes I fall asleep looking at it and imagining what it'd be like to live there. Makes me glad I found this place."

"Ask for it, and all of its splendor will be in the palm of your hand," you whisper in his ear, as though enticing him, oiling the gears in his head so that they'd start whirring at the thoughts of endless possibilities. A gleaming palace, a beautiful princess, and a proper bed. It could all be his within the blink of an eye, if only he were to say the words aloud.

"Now that'd be a wish," Namjoon hums sleepily, drifting off to sleep, his eyes fluttering shut. "G'night, jinni."

He shivers slightly from the crisp air, and you get up, waving your arm over him as a thick blanket covers his form. His grimace melts into a serene expression as he falls into a deep slumber, and you can't help but feel pleased with yourself. You press your palm against his forehead, feeling the warmth and blessing him with good dreams of a new life so that he would sleep well.

Truly, this one was different. You almost didn't want to let him go.

-

The black silk covering your lower face didn't help much to mask the musk and stench of the streets, where animal feces and grime littered the floor. Namjoon didn't seem nearly as perturbed as you, however, the man seeming at home as he slipped past guards or market men you had no doubt he stole from.

Namjoon slinked back, rolling behind one of the carts as the man running it was occupied with a customer. In the next moment, the peasant had produced an apple, green and fat, from the palms of his hand.

"Try it, best apples in the marketplace," Namjoon grinned, tucking you two away in a narrow alleyway, out of sight from the man who had unwittingly been duped.

"You need it more than I, dear Master," you say, your words floating from behind the silk over your lips.

"You have taste buds, don't you?" At your nod, he pushes the apple into your hands, wrapping your small fingers around it as your hands struggled to completely engulf it in your grasp. "Then try it- just one bite."

The boy fascinated you, to say the least. Therefore, it was no surprise that you looked him in the eye, his twinkling with mischief and yours with curiosity, slipping the silk from your face to sink your teeth into the fruit.

It was sour and ripe, juice dribbling down your chin, making your lips glisten as though you wore gloss. It was delicious, and you couldn't remember the last time you had fruit this ripe.

"It's good," you admit, pushing the fruit back into his hands as he happily chomps down on it, some chunks getting on his cheeks. You wipe it away, getting rid of the residue that stained his chin.

"Told you so," he said brightly, though it was difficult to decipher the words with how full his mouth was. Despite how unrefined he was, he was still far more charming than any king you served. You found yourself smiling fondly at the thought, but reminding yourself this was temporary, and that attachments couldn't be risked.

There seemed to be a buzz throughout the people, suddenly rushing to bunch and huddle around in a crowd. Namjoon looked back, brows furrowed as he examined the scene. He wandered closer, curiosity bubbling within his chest, his sticky hands clasped around yours as he dragged you closer. You could feel his emotions fill throughout you, and you felt true sensation egging you on to approach nearer.

A valiant prince with regal features, though soft, sat atop a horse. The crowd parted, mimicking the Red Sea, fueling the man's ego as his horse trotted forward.

"Another prince wishing to be betrothed to the princess, no doubt," Namjoon muttered under his breath. "They're all the same, though- pompous assholes. No wonder she turns them away each time."

"A man of many graces, however, may blind one from their true intentions," you murmured quietly, eyeing the gold and diamonds that littered the long and elegant fingers, clasped around leather reigns and devoid of calluses. He had never worked a day in his life.

"I think it's ridiculous- they just let any prince walk in to propose. I'm just glad she could see through each of them," Namjoon huffed. "Her father's said to be a bit of a kind-hearted dolt- I don't know, though. Never met the man- but he could certainly do better for his people, at least the ones in need."

"If you were Sultan, you could grant far more wishes than even I," you remind him.

"I don't wish to be Sultan- the only thing I wish for is true and genuine love, one that lasts through the ages," Namjoon says. He sighs to himself, turning away as the palace guards stepped aside to let the prince inside. He couldn't even look to them. "C'mon- I need to get out of here."

-

"Namjoon! What're you doing here? If Mama sees you-" The girl's fiery eye blazed towards Namjoon, a thousand flames trapped in her beady pupils, and a million insults ready to be hurdled.

"Relax, baby, I've no ill intentions," Namjoon chuckled, his radiant smile swiftly contradicting with the girl's glare. "I wanted my friend to meet some of the townsfolk- those who tolerated me, at least."

She narrowed her eyes further, squinting at him. Her gaze finally shifted to you, and a single brow was raised. "Don't tell me you have another unfortunate soul tailing after you, Namjoon. You've messed with about every other girl in here free of charge- why are you insatiable?"

"She's not just another girl," Namjoon huffed, mind whirling back to the fact that you weren't even human in the slightest. Realizing his words, however, he quickly backtracked. "She's a friend."

"Sure she is," the girl muttered, rolling her eyes. She turns to you finally. "Don't waste your time on this one- he's not worth the chase. The other girls have had their try, but it's pointless."

"I shouldn't have to remind you that you're no better," Namjoon added cheekily, dimples showing prominently.

She responded by flicking his forehead with her finger. "I ought to call Mama on you. She'll have a fit. You've been gone for weeks and suddenly popped up out of nowhere."

"Is your mother upset with him or something?" you questioned, brows furrowed together.

The girl's expression scrunched up, confused as she meets your expression. "What?"

"This is a brothel, Y/N. Lydia here is a prostitute," Namjoon clarified with an awkward, yet amused laugh, seeing how your eyes suddenly widened to realization.

"Mama's just what we call our Madame. She doesn't take too kindly to Namjoon here since he's poor, but many of the girls give him a bit of free service since we knew him before we started working here," Lydia says, pinching the man's cheek to wipe the smirk off his face. "As I said, he's not worth the chase. He's a nice guy and all- but relationships 'aren't his thing' since he's got his eyes set out on the princess."

"I'm not going to commit to anyone when I've already found the love of my life," Namjoon huffed, swatting away her hand.

Lydia scoffed. "You're ridiculous," she chastises, eyes flickering to you. "You know, I'd say you're pretty enough to work here, but you'd probably wipe out my business. Take it as a compliment. So, what's your deal with him?"

"Just a friend, nothing more. He needs my help to win the princess's heart," you tell her honestly. Well, mostly honestly. Technically you were lying by omission. You should clarify that you were helping him by granting a wish, as it was the Law of Jinn.

"That's funny," Lydia laughed. "He won't be let within ten feet of the palace unless he was a prince. The princess wouldn't stoop to some peasant's level- sorry, Namjoon- but her father wouldn't allow it. You'd have to own a kingdom of your own before you're even let in, to be frank. But you're getting nowhere dressed like that, that's all I'm saying."

Namjoon's eyes glittered slightly at that. "So you're saying if I were a prince she'd fall for me?"

"I mean, sure I guess," Lydia shrugged. "Look, it was nice meeting you, Y/N, but Mama's gonna know I'm gone if I stay out here too long. Don't go falling for that one, now." She closes the door behind her and you're left with Namjoon. His heartbeat is escalating quickly, and you can practically hear the wheels in his head turning.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Namjoon questions, the sole image of a crown on his head and silk on his skin filling his mind.

You do no more than smile demurely to him. "Your wish is my command."

"Open sesame." A magic cave revealed Gold and riches Discreetly concealed 40 men to collect Over centuries, piles build A bit of it stolen Scurry to abandon The most sacred treasure hidden Many spells sealed until destiny Calls for it to be opened "Close sesame."

-

"Entering, Prince Namjoon of the Pagean Isles!"

Namjoon strode in with you at his right side, a demure servant girl, whose beauty shone even through her drab attire. At his left was a silver tiger, tamed and powerful, bending to only Namjoon's hand, his tail swishing about in the air as his predatory eyes scanned the room. Luxuries were carried by servant men, all moving in unison as they piled gifts at the feet of the Sultan.

Your golden eyes scanned the man, his belly big, and beard long. His eyes held the light of one still ignorant to the world's wonders. At his side stood the prince who had previously entered the palace walls, his nose turned towards the ceiling as he haughtily surveyed Namjoon's princely form. Your chest glowed with pride to see the prince glower at how impossibly regal your Master looked.

At his other side stood the princess herself. While most humans had imperfections that could be surveyed up close, ruining the illusion of their illustrious beauty, the princess seemed to be all the more breathtaking. Dark skin that made her almond eyes pop as she cooly looked over the band of loyal followers behind Namjoon, her eyes briefly scanning you. Though your beauty still managed to brighten the room, you blended in perfectly and undoubtedly outshone by Namjoon. Her eyes still skeptical and calculating, the princess moved her dark hair back, and as though using her own sort of magic, it seemed as though a wave of sweetness swept through the room, similar to the smell of rose petals dipping into hot bath water. It was a sort of air you could only manage to mimic.

"It's an honor to be in your presence, Your Majesty," Namjoon said, bowing deeply. His chest was tight, anxiety and adrenaline rushing through him, though from the ruse or the princess, you were unsure.

"It's a delight to have you here, Sir Namjoon! The more the merrier!" the Sultan says, his voice boisterous as he hops off of his throne and to the gifts, holding up a golden coin, the face of an ancient king imprinted on it. "And what wonderful gifts you bring!"

"A small price to pay for your hospitality and welcoming us to your country," Namjoon speaks cooly, rising to an upright stature, grinning. "I've come to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage."

"Another suitor!" the Sultan gushed, dropping the coin as he clasped his hands together. "We've many visits, but never two at once! We'd be more than happy to house you, Prince."

"It'll only be me and my servant girl, and perhaps the tiger, as well. I promise you he's perfectly safe," Namjoon said, scratching the ear of the tiger as it leaned into his touch. "The rest will be heading off home 'til I call for them."

"I've never heard of the Pagean Isles. Remind me where you're from?" The other prince sneered, raising a brow to Namjoon skeptically.

"Of course," Namjoon grinned, "anyone who is well traveled would see our islands of golden sands and crystal waters. Many have mistaken it for the lost nation of Atlantis. Our grand abode resides in the Bermuda Triangle, though we scarcely stray from our small paradise, seeing as there wasn't much else we could seek."

You were glad he had memorized your speech so grandly- or more so winged off of the details you had told him before. Still, he was doing a marvelous job. You could see how Namjoon glowed from within at the thought of this make-believe country- as though he truly was their ruler.

"Then why is it you've come here?" the prince questioned, trying to bury himself into Namjoon's subconscious and seed out what it was the man truly wanted.

"Word has come even to our islands of a beauty unlike any other- the princess, set to be the future queen of your nation. She was said to be the most beautiful woman on Earth, the gods crafting her with their holy hands, and placing stars in her eyes." Namjoon's gaze flickered to the princess, her face stony and revealing nothing. You could feel how his face automatically burned while looking at her, and you hoped his cheeks weren't beginning to glow red. "But even the most eloquent of poets couldn't properly describe your beauty, Your Highness."

"You flatter me," the princess said, batting her luscious lashes, a cool wave washing over the grand room. "A man with words like yours is a dangerous one."

"And a vulnerable one in your presence, as well," Namjoon said, unblinking, their gaze locking firmly. The tension was so thick, you could practically taste it. You hadn't even fed him those lines- he truly had his own way with words.

The other prince, his ego threatened and slightly deflated, turned towards the Sultan, who was examining an ivory camel. "Surely you won't let him stay here?"

"Why not? Afraid of some healthy competition, Prince Zandar?" the Sultan laughed. "Prince Namjoon is more than welcome to stay here! Ultimately it's my dear Yasmin who will make the decision. I can't bear to see my darling baby girl unhappily wed."

Zandar scowled, turning on his heel to stroll out, a graceful stomp to his step as he exited.

Princess Yasmin seemed to float down before she was no more than three feet from Namjoon, the man tense. She curtsied, bunching the material of her dress as she bowed her head demurely. "I look forward to seeing you around the palace, Prince Namjoon," she said, the words flowing off her tongue smoothly. Once she rose, face to face with Namjoon, she was only a few inches below him. "I think I shall reside for the night. The day has been as long as it has been tiresome."

"May you rest well and see me in your dreams, for I will be blessed to know I even flashed across your mind," Namjoon spoke, his words soft as he bent down, a low bow as the woman gracefully raised her hand, letting his plumb lips barely graze the soft skin of her hand before she slipped from his grip and departed.

Namjoon was still in half a daze when the Sultan ordered servants to escort the two of you to your quarters.

-

"I never want to leave this bed," Namjoon sighed blissfully, his back bouncing against the fluffy sheets. You closed the door to the princely quarters, assuring the other servants that His Royal Highness would like a moment of privacy. "This beats my rug any day."

"You'll like the Sultan's quarters far more, Master," you assure him, unable to contain the smile on your face to see Namjoon bunch himself together in the blankets, rolling around until he had wrapped himself in a makeshift cocoon.

"You're kidding- nothing can be better than this," Namjoon said, eyes scanning the room with awestruck wonder. With the marble walls and smooth floors, high ceilings supported by graceful pillars, and bright fabrics covering the lounging furniture, his reaction wasn't in the least bit surprising. "You could probably fit ten girls on this bed alone."

"Of course that's your first thought," you chuckle, rolling your eyes, though you couldn't avoid the expression of amusement to blossom across your face. "I suppose your player days that Lydia informed me of haven't completely faded from your memory."

"I still have a few tricks up my sleeve," Namjoon smiles, the charming gesture accompanied with a wink that made your stomach involuntarily flip. "Tell a girl how lucky you are that the stars aligned to grant you permission to so much as lock eyes, and they're a puddle at your feet."

"I do hope you remember to use that tactic on the princess when you plan to court her," you hum lightly, pleased by his pretty words, ones that even a scholarly gentleman would envy.

"No, it isn't as simple. With her I don't want to memorize lines as though I'm acting in front of an audience- despite the fact, my role as a fake prince makes that rather difficult." Namjoon laughs lightly at that last part. "With the other girls, I know exactly what to do and what to say, knowing I could leave the next day without a problem. But the first time I saw her? I saw her face, and I knew she was what led to my destiny. Let it be as her husband or as her King, I know she's the true beginning to the rest of my life."

"Despite the troublesome flames you have to dance around, I believe it will be accomplished," you assure him. "You have a great destiny to fulfill- and I know in my heart of smoke and cinders that it is true. Through me, you will become a man whose name is etched in the stars by the gods themselves, where even the constellations are blinded by the characters of your name."

"You seem to speak prettier words than even I," Namjoon bellows. "I'll have to learn how to speak as eloquently as a million-year-old Jinni, it appears. You'll probably be burdened having to teach me, for I shalt not waste a wish on a tongue of silver, flames, and deception. I won't waste what's in words."

"You'd be surprised," you laugh, reaching out for the silver tiger, it's head rubbing against your hand, a low hum emitting from it. You scratched behind its ear before bending down, stooping to its level as you held its face in your hands, scratching and petting it as you would a common house cat.

"The tiger was a nice touch," Namjoon comments, sitting up as he eyes you petting the tiger. "I think that Zandar fellow peed his pants."

"I thought it'd be a nice touch," you say whimsically, waving your hand as the tiger billowed away in a cloud of grey smoke. "Exotic pets were in, back in my day. I can't imagine it'll go out of style."

"It's hard to imagine you being a million years old," Namjoon says, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "An old crone such as yourself shouldn't be so pretty."

You scowl at his teasing. "Well, this old crone still knows her way around a court- which I know you're clueless in. I can't imagine it's changed much, and you're most definitely in need of a lesson if you want to continue to woo the princess with your head sitting upon your shoulders."

"Perhaps I should be nicer to you," Namjoon said, gulping nervously.

You grinned wickedly, your golden eyes glinting in the light. "Chin up, Your Highness. It'll be a long day before you're back in the arms of your princess. I suggest we work on that posture. Now, where are the books?"

"Oh, gods. May the stars spare me!" Namjoon says with an overdramatic wail, falling back to the duvet.

-

You internally cringe upon sight of Namjoon awkwardly bowing, his head low and at level with his knees, arm flourishing out in a manner that one would perform for an archduke instead of the marines captain he was presented before. However, having hindsight that he couldn't properly navigate himself around a court with the grace and agility many other princes were used to, you both made up the excuse that he was foreign, and that he'd learn along the way. Sure, you had attempted to teach him the different rules, but there was only so much you could cram within the hour, and though the traditions and greetings more than likely haven't changed in a millennium, even you had to scratch your head and ponder over whether or not you were giving the right advice.

Despite his goofiness and gestures, he was a riot, telling far and outlandish tales of voyaging to sea in the waters far from even the Pagean Isles, withstanding the sweet melody of the Sirens and searching for forbidden fruit. The other royals, not able to go out of their marble walls as much as the next voyager, were awestruck, gape-mouthed and gawking at Namjoon, hanging onto his every word as he held them at the edges of their seats.

The Sultan himself was positively charmed, a grin spreading across his round face as he excitedly clapped his hands in a childlike manner and urged Namjoon to continue. Even the princess herself seemed intrigued, her eyes glinting and never leaving Namjoon's flying lips, despite the fact that the other prince stood right at her side. He seemed to be the only one who wasn't completely awestruck by Namjoon's performance, instead choosing to blather on once he could get a word in edgewise, or otherwise glare at Namjoon once he failed to get the princess's attention.

You, disguised as the doll-like maiden you were, helped the other servants bring out the lavish meals as Namjoon continued to entertain, as though he were the host instead of the guest. You all stood by the side, waiting to be called upon by one of the officials or royals. The other servant girls seemed equally smitten by your master, all whispering to each other, and their glances flashed to you every so often.

It wasn't until one of the ladies in waiting for the princess stepped forward that you truly got to indulge in a proper conversation, however.

Her eyes were as dark as coal, fiery and lively after leaving the princess's side, her face flushed with excitement from hearing one of Namjoon's tales. You could sense her heart racing from the story itself, and you suspected that perhaps she had a crush on the prince himself.

It didn't matter, however. Anyone could sense that his eyes were locked on the princess, doing his best to act endearing and gain her affection, his yearning causing a thick tension between the two, despite how unreadable she was. On the off chance he wasn't melting at her gaze, he'd glance to you, as though seeking approval, but you could offer none. Perhaps you should've disguised yourself as a fruit fly so you might whisper encouragements into his ear, but he seemed to be doing well enough on his own.

"Your prince seems to be quite the adventurer," the lady in waiting comments, her tone light and airy as though to make pleasant conversation, though you could sense she was yearning to learn more of the mystery man. "I don't even care whether these stories are true or not at this point- they're the most entertaining things I've heard in this palace."

"Every word from his mouth is true- even I've had to accompany him on a voyage or two as his faithful servant," you tell her demurely, watching carefully as she gleamed at your confirmation of his bravery.

"I see," she speaks, her mouth parting open for a second before pausing, thinking about her question and what she wanted to ask. "What's he like?" she finally questioned, breathing the words out softly so that no one nearby would be able to eavesdrop.

"Go back to the table and be entertained- you'll find out soon enough," you say, eyeing her warily.

"True," she admits, her mouth pursing, lips small and tight. "But you know him the best as his personal servant. What's his personality like when he's not performing before a grand audience of officials?"

You know for a fact that she'll blather on to the princess about every word from your mouth, and you don't let a minute of it go to waste. "A man far more generous than any I've ever met- and caring, too. He cares for the servants as he cares for a royal, holding each life at value, as foolish as it may seem. He is impulsive, yes, but he can be intelligent when he wants to be. He's loyal and dedicated and persistent, and I've yet to meet a man as great as he."

"You speak well for a servant girl," she hums softly. "Where is it you're from?"

"The Pagean Isles, such as he. I was an orphan brought up in the palace, but once you dust enough books and serve enough poets you learn to speak as eloquently as those in court," you reply simply.

"Well, if my princess and your prince get married, I'm sure there's a position open for you among us girls," the lady in waiting winks, a mischevious smile spreading across her face.

You mimic the smile, hearing a boisterous laugh from everyone at the table as Namjoon delivers a joke with precise timing. "I'd say it's more of a 'when' than an 'if', but I'll consider your offer."

-

"Did you see? I had them on the edge of their seats. I've got this prince thing down to the letter T," Namjoon said boisterously the moment the two of you entered the guest quarters.

"I'll admit, when Lydia sprouted tales of your infamous charms, I had my doubt. Perhaps it doesn't pertain only to women after all," you laugh.

Namjoon grins, his eyes having the devilish copper gleam you were warming yourself up to. "I can charm anyone and anything, 'O Jinni. I'd be wary if I were you."

You scoffed in derision. "I highly doubt you could charm me. I have no true form nor heart. I've lived years that mathematicians couldn't comprehend. I wield a sense of power that can be matched only by the gods, and that is why I was put in an unforgiving cage. I've met kings and heroes, and no one could so much as attempt to penetrate my barrier. What makes you believe you could twist a being such as I around your finger?"

"You're still a girl, aren't you?" Namjoon laughs. "You girls are easy to read like that. Pretty words to a pretty face, that always does the trick. Besides, all you need is a guy who knows what he's doing and how to make you feel good."

"Every man thinks he knows how to make a woman feel good," you snort. "It's good to know things haven't changed in eons."

"Well, I know I can," Namjoon winked playfully. It's funny how, for such a wise man, he was confident and extroverted. Most of the smart ones you encountered had a quiet personality.

"Try me," you say simply. "Seduce me without touching me properly."

"I'm surprised you're so boisterous. You've encountered this sort of thing?" His brows were raised, and though there was no sexual tension between you two at that moment, only a challenge between two friends, (or so it seemed), you had a feeling that the energy between you could change easily depending on his next move.

"Sex doesn't mean anything, nor does it do much. It's simply for reproduction, but in my experience, it's never derived pleasure. Lust is but a carnal human instinct," you shrug. "Seduce me, wondrous one."

He's amused smile matches your own, and he leans in, barely caging you in against the pillar you didn't even realize was behind you. Your back presses against it, and you look to your side, seeing his fingertips barely even grazing the cool marble. His lips are a centimeter from your own, and for a moment, a brief and weak moment, you wish to capture his lips in your own.

As though sensing your yearning, Namjoon smirks. "Don't worry- I won't kiss you. That'd make it too easy, wouldn't it?"

You scoff at that. "You're the very definition of a pompous ass, young master. I wouldn't have expected such cockiness from one such as yourself."

"Well, I've got a good reason to be cocky, if I do say so myself," he chuckles, reaching down to capture one of the buttons of your dress between his lips. You furrow your brows in confusion, but with skilled precision, within a second he unfastens the button and does his work on the next. You realize he's craftily undressing you without using so much as a finger. Your stomach flips at the simple gesture, and you feel a lump in your throat that you promptly swallow. It comes to mind that the only way he learned how to do this so craftily and quickly was from experience- countless faceless women being undressed with only his lips, his tongue, and his teeth. They probably unraveled from those alone as well.

By the time he's got three buttons down, revealing a peak of the valley between your breasts and starting at the buttons at your stomach, he looks up at you, quirking a brow in amusement. "Dare I say, I made an eons-old goddess flush?"

"You're full of yourself if you truly believe you have any effect on me," you say, rolling your eyes, whatever hazy thoughts you were having being abruptly cleared.

"Is that so?" Namjoon quickly straightens, his hands grabbing your hips as he presses you against the pillar, your noses grazing against one another. In your haste, you quickly clutched onto his silk clothes, the fabric providing little support until you properly grip his shoulders. You feel the warm breath from his parted lips, and you feel your own hitch.

His copper eyes look at your tense state with nothing more than amusement, and you wait in bated breath for what he'll do next.

The side of his mouth quirks. "You're cute, y'know that?"

You're quick to get off of him, seeing him laugh abruptly as yous wat him. "See how the princess reacts to that! We're lucky no one walked in on us, for words would flow through these halls to know you're seducing someone who isn't the princess!"

"You're the one who opened thy can of worms. I had every right to stand for my honor," Namjoon cackles, doubling over in laughter at your heated reaction. "I'm not all bark and no bite."

"You just bite," you counter, flicking his forehead. "Honestly, had my original home known of men like you, you'd have been the nightmare of fathers everywhere."

"A land from eons ago? Do tell," Namjoon questions.

You shake your head, realizing you had gotten completely sidetracked. "No matter- 'tis lost to the depths of the sea now."

"Oh, I see, trying to intrigue me so that you don't admit you've lost. Who knew the Jinn were a race of sore losers!" Namjoon smirks, teasing you, fondly.

You stare at him in amusement, a faint smile on your lips, and you're unable to deny the sensation of a weight being lifted off of your heart as you looked to the man.

Your master seemed to notice your fond look, though didn't take offense to it. Instead, he smiled back with a light laugh of confusion. "Why do you look at me like that?"

"I just forget how full of life you humans are," you say wistfully. "I can feel it radiating from within you and filling up the room. Raw emotion and an addicting sensation of adrenaline and bliss- I've never felt it so strong before."

"You can feel my emotions?" Namjoon asked curiously. "Sense my energy?"

"Whereas us jinn are filled and made of smoke, you are made of the fire that our embers originated from. It's something we cannot truly have but can sense. That is how jinn and mortals are connected, in a sense. Our bond," you explain simply. Stepping forward, you sweep into his arms, your smooth hands gliding up towards his biceps. "Would you like me to show you?"

You feel the man gulp, and his heart strangely skips a beat. Cocking your head to the side, you await his answer. His heartbeat surges, and you're confident that if you were even a mere human you would've felt his quickened pulse beneath your palms. "Yes."

Closing your eyes and concentrating, you push warmth into his veins, a fire that ignites the room. It's intensified, the same way all of Namjoon's emotions are for you. All of his muscles relax, a tension that he wasn't even aware was building up now being released. A heavy heart is as light as a feather, droopy lids are now lifted to gaze upon the vibrant colors of the room, and his breathing is heavy as he feels the sensations of everything around him, from your soft touch to the room temperature's effect on his skin.

To put it simply, it was as though all of his senses were heightened to the max. His eyes flutter, and he takes in a deep breath. "And you?" he questions softly. "What do you feel?"

"That's what I feel when I'm with you. Your emotions and life are far greater and more vibrant than other mortals. A diamond in the rough, in that sense," you offer. "But with anyone else... or just by myself..."

You suck in all the life flowing through his veins, and emotional ton weighing upon his shoulders. Cloudy smoke fills his lungs as the room temperature seems to drop on its own, his skin turning into ice as all the warmth pools from his skin into the flesh of your palms. Namjoon shivers and quakes, and you remember for the briefest moment that he was still a mere human, unable to handle things to the extent of you, and depart yourself from his arms as life rushes back into his all too fragile body.

"That was..." Namjoon breathed heavily, unable to gather his thoughts.

"Intense," you reply simply, shrugging it off. It was far duller for you in comparison to him, but you had to consider what he felt in the situation.

Namjoon nodded. "Like a black cloud settled over me and filled every spare centimeter of the soul within my body."

You couldn't have described it any more accurately. "I am the definition of agreement with your analogy," you say. "A terrible feeling indeed- devoid of life."

"Do you wish you were human at times? So you could feel life instead of just processing it second hand?" Namjoon questions softly.

"In a sense, I'm almost parasitic- feeding off of the life that radiates off of you. It fills the room, and it's so addicting, I fear at times I cannot live without it. But then I'm stuck in the lamp for a hundred years or a millennium, and it's nothing more than a dull memory until someone frees me temporarily from my prison once more, and the cycle repeats. I doubt I'd be able to truly sense it if I were a mortal, but it'd be nice to no longer feel dependent on someone else, and to no longer be a slave," you whisper softly, sitting down as you let the words of truth roll off your tongue.

Namjoon sits beside you, your hands brushing against each other. His fingertips slowly brush closer to your own, and you let him, your heartbeat racing as you surge with the sensation of something close to adrenaline. His fingers lock with yours in a sense, and he gives them a tight squeeze. You're thankful he doesn't have your abilities, otherwise, your feelings would be transparent before him.

"What if I could wish for that? For you to be free?" Namjoon offered, his voice low as he looks at you carefully.

You recoil, your hand snapping back to your body as you stand back up, removing yourself from his all too magnetic presence. "Don't ever suggest such a thing again," you say quietly. "You've but one wish left- don't waste it on preposterous ideas." Before, should any other master suggest that you would've leaped for joy and kissed the soles of their feet in gratitude. But not Namjoon- never him.

"Why not?" he asked, not offended in the slightest, only curiosity lacing his voice.

You tremble like a leaf as you stand before him, fingers brushing through his locks as you look him in the eyes. Those galaxy filled eyes that have seen more than peasant or prince. "You're by far the best master I've ever served- one who's beyond other men in terms of heart and soul. Your spirit is pure and good, and I know you won't let it become tainted or corrupted with the power I've bestowed upon you. Therefore I cannot let you waste the most important decision of your life on some petty desire of my own. You're the first one I willingly serve for, and by those terms, I grant your heart's desires, no second, underlying tone to them."

"Are you sure, though?" Namjoon questioned, peering up at you as you cradle his face in your hands.

You brush your thumb along his cheek, smiling softly to him. "As sure as a prophecy from the Oracle, and as sure as the gods when they aligned the stars and wrote in the scriptures of fate for us to meet."

The tender look in Namjoon's eyes makes you melt, and you feel a certain softness and endearment that you hadn't felt before. Your makeshift heart pumps furiously as he slowly stands, your hands still cradling his face, and for a moment you think he might kiss you. It takes a lot of self-control for you to resist, and to remain still as he circles his arms around your waist.

"Y/N..."

You feel your breath hitch, allowing your eyelids to flutter as you feel his warmth radiating off of him in waves. You feel him lean in closer when-

"Princess Yasmin would like to see you."

You leap from Namjoon's arms and turn to the mere servant boy at the doorway, his eyes looking between you two questioningly. You were pretty enough to pass for a concubine, perhaps, but it would've been too improper for a prince to be sleeping with a servant girl in the home of the woman he was courting.

"Of course, I'll meet with her at once," Namjoon says, clearing his throat.

The servant boy shook his head. "Pardon me, Your Highness, but I was talking to her," he says, jutting out his chin to point to you instead. Both you and Namjoon exchange glances of surprise, but you're unable to do much more than follow the boy in his wake.

-

"Your Highness." You curtsey deeply, leg behind you as you dip your head before her. You were in the princess's chambers, the walls of silk and the golden light of the setting sun filling the room, giving it an iridescent hue, where the already dark skin of the princess and her ladies in waiting seemed to glow from within. Your bare feet were firm against the marble floors, and the pristine room was one that many would envy.

"You seem to know more than your prince- seeing as you know the proper bow," one of the ladies in waiting commented, eyeing your form as you rose to stand once more. You mentally cursed at being so lax with Namjoon when it came to his technique, but there was nothing you could do about it now.

"I studied royal etiquette when I was a girl, in many of the libraries. His Highness was far more interested in the literary works and philosophical studies than he was in studying cultures. He insisted those should be studied from first-hand experience, and one can't fully immerse themselves in a culture from pages, and to do so would be an insult," you lied smoothly, simultaneously excusing Namjoon's poor skills when it came to acting royal.

"Your prince is right in that regard," Princess Yasmin said. She sat on the floor, one of the fluffy carpets in the center of the room acting as a mat for all of the women to sit. She gestured to the empty spot, the bands and charms of the many bracelets along her wrist jingling as she did so. "Please, sit."

You obediently sit, cross-legged, hands on your knees. "How may I be of service?"

"You intrigue me," the princess said simply. "You don't act like a servant- you act with stature and dignity, despite acting subservient. It's the way you carry yourself. No peasant knows how to do that naturally."

"I suppose all of the time attending royals has paid off. Perhaps it's rubbed off and onto me," you suggest simply.

"Perhaps," the princess hums, her beautiful eyes still glinting with suspicion. "You seem close to your prince. You wouldn't happen to be a lover of his, would you? Not that I mind- I understand that men have certain needs, and you are prettier than most servants. I wouldn't be offended or surprised in the slightest."

"The prince and I aren't engaging in any sensual activities, and are no more than servant and master," you assure her. "He's got his eyes set on you and no one else."

"Is that so?" Her voice goes light and airy, and she cocks her head to the side, her long raven hair falling off her shoulder as she did so, moving as lightly as silk. "But he's just met me."

"Would you believe me if I told you it was love at first sight?" You see the girls' eyes shift from one another at your words. "He's been swooning since he first laid eyes on you, Your Highness. Surely you've noticed it, too."

"Love at first sight is simply falling for someone's looks, or at the very least, the idea of them. I find it to be a rather ridiculous trope," the princess sighed. "Frankly, though, I don't believe in love. My parents didn't love each other, nor did their parents. Love cannot bloom from within these marble walls."

"Then why do you turn down man after man that walks through these doors? If you do not care for love, what is your reasoning? Surely you're expected to marry, considering your father will enforce it."

There's a light smile on Princess Yasmin's face as you say that. "I rely more so on reasoning and logic than I do on feelings- I have a feeling you and I have that in common. We're two sides of the same coin, you see. I, a princess, and you a servant. But there's something eerily different about you- perhaps a similarity that's just now coming into clarity.

"I turn down the men who come here because they have nothing to offer. They marry me so that they can gain the status and wealth, but I'd rather give them a taste of their own medicine and turn the tables. I care not of looks or love- I'm not selfish in that regard. Neither of those will make a good Sultan for my people. I need someone with intelligence to match my own but still is willing to run things the same way I do. I want to run my kingdom- not a foreigner. But it's not just qualities of a husband or Sultan I'm looking for- otherwise, I could simply marry a peasant. They still need to bring something to the table. Tell me, what riches does your kingdom have? How big is your army?"

You were surprised by her speech and narration, and your heart sunk a bit as you thought of how disappointed Namjoon would be to learn that, though the princess was interested in him, she wasn't actually interested in him. "Our naval fleet is the largest subdivision of our army- many young men willing to fight and venture at a moments notice. We've got plenty of jewels and gold, but the greatest treasure from our inventory are the jeweled fruits that come from an enchanted garden that the prince himself has entered."

The princess's eyes lit up at that. "You don't say? Why hasn't Prince Namjoon brought up that story?"

"I suppose he wanted to wait until he could give it as a wedding gift. He has brought them with him, however," you tell her, your words careful.

"That seems to be more than substantial," Princess Yasmin sighed. "I cannot inherit the kingdom and start making changes for the good of the country until I'm betrothed. It's been difficult, however, choosing a proper king for my people. I need to put my people first, and none of the suitors so far have proven themselves worthy enough. They're too arrogant, too selfish, or too controlling. Prince Namjoon, however, seems to be a miracle from the heavens. Easy on the eyes, too, which is a bonus. If he truly loves me, as you claim, the courtship can be fastened so we can go on with the wedding. My father isn't a suitable Sultan for the people- he doesn't bother himself with the poverty or troubles- only squishes the potential riots his advisors warn him of. I'm very thankful you and your prince have arrived."

"We're thankful you welcomed us into your lovely abode," you reply, feeling the eyes of the women burning into your skull as they studied your reaction.

"You may deny you're lovers with the prince- but I know you can't deny you are friends. I see it how he looks at you- he cares for you. Despite your role as a servant before the prince, I do not sense the subservient bond between you- not with how he looks at you. Therefore, I'll give you the honor of telling him the good news," Princess Yasmin spoke. "I'll dismiss the other suitor and tell my father. The wedding will be announced within the week, and we'll have to make arrangements. You've been here for a few months now- no? Another month or so wouldn't hurt to prepare. I want to be married quickly. As soon as it happens, I'll make sure to make you a lady in waiting. I'm sure one of my women told you of the proposal already, and I do hope you put it into consideration. I see you as a rather valuable asset."

"Thank you, Your Highness," you say, standing up and bowing once more. "I'll tell Prince Namjoon of the news immediately."

"Please," she smiled, a honey glow to her cheeks, the first time you've seen her happy. "Call me Yasmin."

Traded from hand to hand No more than an object A convenience, a tool No one to object Gathering dust Or gleaming with gold An endless fate Repeatedly told

-

"Joyous news! I'm to be engaged!" Namjoon's voice is light and airy as he jumps onto the bed, feet bouncing upon the cushions as he seems to fly in the air, his smile beaming with excitement. "Bring a servant- we shall drink until we're dead! This is the most marvelous of news- she wishes to marry me! Within the month! Dear gods, I've been blessed! I- Y/N, why do you look so crestfallen?"

Namjoon jumps down, his rear landing upon the pillow as he sits, his expression worried. Though he should be used to your somber expression by now, stony-faced, you've come rather used to how easily he was able to read you. Even the wisest of men hundreds of years ago were unable to take a glimpse into your thoughts.

"Namjoon... she's not marrying you for the reasons you think she is," you state simply, sighing. You walk closer to him, sitting beside him as you look him in the eye. You've witnessed the deaths and slaughters of many, and yet seeing the man's unease made you strangely unnerved. What did he mean to you?

"What do you mean? Why would she reject all the other suitors but accept the proposal I've yet to properly make?" He laughs uneasily, as though he's waiting for you to assure him that it's nothing bad.

"It's less to do with you charming her and more because you're the best option," you explain. "To put it simply- you're the most convenient."

Namjoon's brows furrow together, a crease forming int he middle as he rises to face you properly. "What do you mean by that?"

You frown, feeling your heart sink in your chest. "You're the best suitor by far for her- you aren't controlling, manipulative, or arrogant like the others. You don't seek power, and she knows of your genuine affection for her- something the others lack. Besides that, the sooner she gets married, the sooner she can be crowned and gain the throne to rule her people. Her intentions are good, however. Despite all of this she's only doing what she believes is best for her people, which would be unattainable with those other suitors as Sultan. You know already that the Sultan is lacking, having experienced the life of a commoner, civilian, and peasant. The princess seems to want to do genuine good for the people- and you're her path to that."

Namjoon's quiet at that, staring blankly as he processes the information. You reach out for him, your fingertips barely grazing his, and you feel the rush of sadness, disappointment, and ache as he processes the words. Your heart plummets to your stomach, but your heartbeat seems to drum from within your throat. You feel sorrowful, pitying the man as he slowly sinks back onto the seat, sitting down with an expressionless gaze.

"So... she doesn't love me," Namjoon says quietly.

"She likes you. Maybe love can come along the way. You two haven't interacted very much, or known each other long," you point out. "It might just need time."

"I don't want to be chosen because of 'convenience'. I don't want to be the best option- I want to be the only option! I want to be the one she chooses for love," Namjoon snaps, anger rising in his voice as he yanks a pillow from one of the cushions, tossing it across the room.

You give him a sympathetic look, placing your hand on his shoulder, feeling the tense muscles relax under your touch. "I know, Namjoon. What is it you wish to do?"

Namjoons tares up at you, lips going small as he notes it's your first time using his proper name. Usually, you'd call him 'Master' or 'Prince', or at best 'Sir Namjoon'. It was as though even in privacy, you were his servant. Meanwhile, he's treated you as nothing less than a friend. This was the first time you had truly spoken to him as an equal- a first name basis usually reserved for those closest to you.

"What can I do?" Namjoon wonders aloud, letting out a huff of breath.

"You could deny her proposal. You can make another wish that leads you far from this place. Or you could accept her offer and become the new king. Who knows? Perhaps you'd bring well to the kingdom. Prosperity comes not always in gold, you know."

Namjoon's quiet at that, and you decide to press further to help him decide his fate, picking up the needle and guiding it into his hand so that he may sew the thread, intertwining it further with the rest in order to complete the woven masterpiece.

"Do you still love her?"

"Yes..." Namjoon's tone makes it sound uneasy, as though he were unsure, and not at all confident. That was unusual for him, seeing as he did seem very comfortable in his own skin.

"Do you still want to be with her?"

"I... I think so."

"Then the only logical thing would be to accept, wouldn't it?" As you see the words, you can practically see the gears shifting from inside his head, whirring as he tried to compose his thoughts. "When you love and want to be with someone, you marry them."

"I suppose you're right," Namjoon murmured, glancing up to you as you lock eyes. "I'll marry Princess Yasmin. In a month, I'll be hers."

For some odd reason, you felt a familiar ache in your chest, one you felt only once before when your fingers had brushed against his.

-

You hate having so many limbs to manage. Eight to be exact, the thin little legs dangling at your side, the string of a web hanging from Namjoon's earlobe as you hung close. You could sense his shivers as you kept close, your spider form making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He had expressed his distaste for this particular choice of disguise but still insisted on having you near to tell him what to say or do in case he froze up. Unfortunately, the only way you could properly whisper in the man's ear what he needed to do was to take the form of a tiny arachnid, so small it could barely be detected. It wasn't very pleasant for you, either, with so many eyes and limbs to take care of.

Namjoon approached the princess, who stood in the garden, instead of the grand and comfortable lounge area of her chambers, for no man was permitted entrance into her slice of heaven. A woman's room was deeply personal.

Her pale yellow garments made her tan skin glow, a honey tone making her seem to radiate from within and out, acting as though she were the sun, not from the yellow clothes, but from the bright, iridescent and vivid stunningness of her beauty. She was the definition of radiance, a star to be admired. Her ladies in waiting are by her side, though at a distance, to give the two space.

"Your Highness," Namjoon greeted, bowing deeply and properly, the only one he had truly mastered in comparison to all of the others he was supposed to perform in court. He rose again, stiff as a board, posture impeccable. "It is an honor to be in your presence. May I have a moment to take note of how lovely your garden is, yet not a single flower can compare to your beauty."

"'Tis often the ones with pretty words to lack pretty faces- yet you surprise me time and time again, Sir Namjoon," Princess Yasmin says, her facial expressions composed as always. "I see you brought your dowry."

Namjoon looks at the satchel he brought, the glittering jewels inside. "My servant girl has informed me that you were quite interested in them."

"Indeed- 'tis more proof of your bravery. No one else can say they've been in the Garden of the Jinn. They say they grew the garden themselves, and the trees are lined with gold, and the flowers emit light. Tell me, since you've seen this Garden of Wonders with your own sparkling eyes, is it true?"

"Every word," Namjoon beamed. "A sight to behold, as well as every relic in it. There isn't a single centimeter that isn't a vision to behold- similar to you, Your Highness."

"How flattering- though you no longer need to court me so, Prince Namjoon. I'm sure you're fully aware of my decision to make you my husband, as well as King." Princess Yasmin eyes Namjoon's expression carefully, and you sense him tense up.

Quickly, you feed him lines, his lips moving the moment the words float in his ear. "As I am well aware- and although I'd say I am pleased to be the luckiest man as your husband, I already am simply bathing in your light and wisdom. I promise to treat you eternally as the love of my life and as a queen, royal blood or not."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Princess Yasmin said, and for a second you saw her shoulders droop, as though she were exhaling with relief at his acceptance of her proposal. Still, a small frown quirked the corners of her pretty lips downwards. "I suppose you also know, however, exactly why and how I reached this conclusion to make you my betrothed."

"I'm well aware," Namjoon sighs, "And I accept your wishes with full respect, My Princess."

The princess steps forward, and you climb up the small spindle of thread, hiding behind the shell of his ear as her fingers graze across his broad chest, a light touch. "I mean not to lead you on, but I'll do my best to learn to love you. Your servant has informed me of your feelings, more genuine and innocent than those of the other suitors, and I knew from the moment you entered my palace walls that you saw me as more than just a prize. That affected my decision deeply- though I know it'll hurt you in the process. I cannot promise I'll love you as you love me, but I promise protection and respect, and if we do get to it, love."

"Thank you, Princess," Namjoon says, his voice hesitant at her words.

Princess Yasmin looks up, her eyes locking with his, the dark, long, and thick lashes letting the dark gems of her eyes peek up to his. "I understand, however, if you do decide to leave for love. Before or after the wedding. I'll respect your decision, of course, but do let me know in advance. As you're already well aware, another reason I'm marrying is to be queen and serve my people, and in order to do that, I must be married. Still, I shalt not keep you from true love."

"True love? But it is you that I love, 'O Betrothed," Namjoon speaks, voice filled with pure confusion.

The princess quirks a brow, cocking her head to the side. "You have intelligence in academics, and streets as well. Your hands are not like those of the other suitors, who have soft, plump hands from not working a day in their lives. The callouses tell me stories with years of work, let it be those adventures you boast of or more. You're a mysterious man, Prince Namjoon, as is your home. I cannot find a single scripture with mentions of the Pagean Isles, and though you've mentioned before that your people keep to themselves and prefer not to travel, I'm shocked that not a single book was found on it in our vast library. I'll be sure to visit with you to greet your people after we're married."

"What does any of this have to do with true love?" Namjoon lets out a laugh- but you would know without your other senses that it was false. You'd know from simply the time you spent with him.

Princess Yasmin lets out a soft smile for once, as though amused by his confusion. "As I listed before, you possess academic and street smarts- but the third, and perhaps the most important one, you lack. Emotional intelligence. To see within yourself how you feel, and to look towards others and see what they feel. I've mastered the art, looking behind facades and masks that my peers wear in court, seeing their motives, their passions, their dreams, and their desires. And I see yours- tis not of power, but of love. However, the torch you still bear has dimmed, and though I may be your Sun, another is your moon. Though I die each night and rise each morning, blinding you, there is another who's always there, despite my presence, and despite how blinding I may be."

"The riddles that flow from your ruby lips are ones I cannot decipher, My Princess," Namjoon says. "Who is this moon you speak of? No other woman has caught my eye."

"I believe we both know there are some who are more than just women, Sir Namjoon," the princess smiles, her grin mysterious and knowing. "Your mysterious home and calloused hands- but most of all your good nature. You don't find those within palace walls. I may not have scrolls on the Pagean Isles- but I most certainly have pages filled with tales of the Garden of Jewels- and more specifically, the true treasure hidden inside of it. Your secret is safe with me, and I do not mind in the slightest. You're more of a man, Prince, and Sultan than any other man in this palace- and it'd be an honor to marry you. Whoever the lucky girl- Sun or Moon- it is."

Namjoon's stunned, and so are you, processing her words carefully.

The princess wears the mischevious smile, still, and turns, waving her hand to dismiss him. "We'll announce the engagement tomorrow, My Betrothed. The suitors shall be dismissed only after the wedding and preparations will be made. We may speak of whatever you wish at any time you require- after all, married couples shouldn't keep secrets from one another. I'll see you later, Sultan to Be."

With that, Namjoon is dismissed from the garden, and you know that despite the regal clothes and upright stature, he never felt more naked or vulnerable than before.

-

Your fur shines with its glossy coat as you rest unperturbed, the servants bustling around you all too scared to interrupt your slumber. Opening a single golden eye, you peer towards your Master, his regal clothes being fitted, a dozen or so stylists fixing him up for the engagement party, where the real preparations will begin immediately after the announcement. It would be an event to celebrate, as the rest of the kingdom will also be aware of their newest king.

Namjoon wears the same expression he has since yesterday when he had the conversation with the princess herself. Uneasiness settles into the pit of his stomach, and you can tell from the wrinkle between his brows that he's still trying to process everything. Though you had assured him that everything was fine and better than expected concerning the love of his life and how calm and intelligent she was, he seemed to be brewing underneath, gears spinning in his head. You wondered what exactly he was thinking about. The marriage? The fact that she knew of his true lineage? Her knowledge of you possibly being a Jinn?

"Ouch," Namjoon hissed, one of the needles poking into his defined calf.

"My humblest apologies, Your Highness," one of the stylists said, her voice calm, though you sensed a slight undertone of fear with her demeanor. You had no doubt she's dealt with difficult royals before.

"It's alright- it's my own fault for moving," Namjoon sighs, turning back to the mirror and examining the silks and satins that adorned him. It was strange to think of what he used to be, his rags replaced with the finest of riches. It was a stranger who wore his face. "I think I need a break. You are dismissed. I promise to let you finish the tailoring in time for the announcement."

The servants bow deeply before exiting, leaving you alone with the young prince. Namjoon sighs, turning away from the mirror to look to you. "You can reveal your true self, now. They're gone."

The smoke that envelops you twists and turns, suffocating you and applying pressure as it squeezes around you, delicate twirls from around your tail and paws to reveal your human form, one of silver adornments and fabric, beaded jewelry around your wrists and intertwined in your hair. "Strange of you to assume I have a true self, Young Master."

"Well, don't you?" Namjoon questions. "Or were you always a Jinni?"

You purse your lips. "I wasn't always- I was rare like that. I was changed into a Marid- the most powerful of them all, a Water Jinn. I was once human, many eons ago, in a previous life."

"What were you? Princess or Queen? Ruler of many?"

You shake your head with a soft smile. "Neither. I was a mere daughter of a merchant, though he was greedy, an avarice man at best. He knew he had no chance of possessing the power of a royal, for the trone of the kingdom where I resided was secure, and so, once he got his meaty hands on a lamp, he wished for power beyond that of a human."

"What happened to him?" Namjoon questioned, eyes soft.

A graceful shrug pulls at your shoulders, and you look away. "What always happens- words falsely misinterpreted and twisted against one's wishes, and so he was made into a Jinn himself. He wailed, now being confined to a new prison, the Jinni taking his place and free from his prison, my father unwittingly taking his place. He got his wish, however, now possessing the power of a Marid."

"What happened afterward?"

"He begged and wailed for me to help him, and so I made a wish to switch places with him. Not wanting anyone to know of what he had forced his daughter to do, he threw my lamp into the ocean, hoping it would never be found again. It didn't matter, however, seeing as he would soon join me in the abyss of the waves that would follow shortly after. It was, however, as power never strays far from the fools who seek it. I've gone through sheds and palaces, helped kings and peasants, and I've submitted to the ways of the Jinn, forgetting my humanity with the immortality and sheer power I've been granted. I've done grand and terrible things- and each and every wish I make draws me further into the nature I've been cursed to- that of the lamp. To bend to a human's will is to bend to the lamp's will. One often wonders what defines one as a human. It cannot be love nor emotion, for even animals and beasts possess both. Over my years, though, I've reached the conclusion that it is one thing, and one thing only- freedom. I haven't been human for lifetimes and generations."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Namjoon says, his expression crestfallen. "You didn't deserve any of that."

"Perhaps back then, I didn't," you hum lightly. "But I do now. I mean it when I say I've done evil things- nightmarish fates you wouldn't dare dream of, and some of the repercussions still being suffered to this very day. I'd rather not go into detail about it, however."

"You're not that bad- not nearly as evil as you believe you are," Namjoon speaks. "You're kind- the fact that you've brought me here without any tricks proves that."

"A pure soul such as yourself has suffered enough from other's actions- fate has let our paths briefly intertwine so that I may right the wrongs that have come your way and give you what you truly deserve," you say simply. "I'm but a messenger- no, catalyst- that the gods send to you mortals."

Namjoon takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes. "If you were to have one wish, what would it be?"

You're taken by surprise but think to yourself for a moment. "I'd wish to truly see the world. I'm confined to my lamp, and at best I'm permitted one hundred and fifty paces from my Master's lamp, as long as they keep it on their person. I'd wish to go on adventures and see the grand lands and waters for myself and of my own free will."

"What if I could grant that for you?" Namjoon asked, his tone serious to let you know he was most definitely taking this into consideration.

"Namjoon, there is no such wish you can make for a Jinn. 'Tis written in the stars- the Jinn's powers are lent to the mortals merely because they are selfish creatures. Should they make a wish on the Jinn's behalf and not of their own wishes- why, it's unheard of. That is why we rely on deceit and trickery. I was only allowed to rescue my father because I'd be taking his place- and I'd never forgive myself if I let someone else fall into that same trap- most of all you, my Prince. Should you be confined to a prison, I'd lie down dead on the spot, grieving over someone I cared for sharing my fate, even if they have only a morsel of the suffering."

Namjoon sighs deeply, sitting beside you, head hanging low. "I only want to help you-you're the greatest friend I've ever had. I'm in your debt."

"These kind acts simply pay for the misdeeds I've done to your people, Namjoon," you assure him, hand on his own as you comfort him. "A Jinn's soul is black as the night- and yours is as white as the shine of a diamond. This is the least I can do. We have to give our all to ensure the happiness of those we..."

You trail off momentarily, unsure where your words were heading off to, and your pause has both of you stunned, the unfinished sentence hanging between you two.

Namjoon's breath fans over your face, and you only now realize how dangerously close your faces are to one another's. Not just your faces, but to be more precise, your lips. His plump ones barely centimeters from your perfectly carved ones. He tilts his head, and you think for a moment that he is surely a good kisser, having had much practice with the girls in his village, all of them being thoroughly satisfied during their throws of passion together.

It's when your lips part, and his fingers- still connected with your own- squeeze gently, as though to assure himself through the sense of touch that this wasn't a dream- that you pull away.

You stand, rising, pulling away from him. His hand hangs in midair, still reaching for your touch. You give him your typical stony expression, despite the fact you know all too well that he'll be able to see past your facade. He knows you better than any other mortal has- and you regret letting him get so close. Not physically, but emotionally.

Your voice is tight as you turn on your heel, refusing to meet his eye. "I'll bring the servants back- you've got an engagement to announce."

-

The Sultan's fat face beams with excitement, and you can tell from how he bounces on the balls of his feet that he is doing his best to contain himself. It's strange that such an old man who's clearly been lounging in his throne for the majority of his life was able to be this alive and bustling, the celebrations almost as festive as he. A grand dinner was made for the engagement party, and without Namjoon's knowledge, a gem nearly as big as her father sat upon the princess's ring finger, making her left hand the spectacle of the night. It was surely grand, everyone beaming and excited, though the leftover suitors grumbled about the table, frowning to themselves for being invited to this accursed event, though they'd be housed in the palace until the wedding, which would be mandatory to attend, rejected or not.

Prince Zandar, (the main suitor who was assured to win the princess's hand before Namjoon's arrival), groveled the most out of the men. He clutched his silverware so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and he snapped at nearly every servant girl who placed a new plate of food before him, barking for more or complaining about the littlest of things, demanding his food be sent back and redone out of sheer pettiness. You despised the man, for many of the servant girls you had to sit amongst on the rare occasions you pretended to do work, would note that despite how handsome he was, he would inappropriately grab passing servants or eye the nearby women. Rumor also had it that he's used one or two girls as his own personal forms of entertainment since it was evident that the princess wasn't interested in fulfilling the animalistic needs of her guests. It was because of this you had purposely avoided him during your stay at the castle, but his eyes had raked down your form more than once since you had begun serving one of the suitors near him.

"Sir Namjoon and I are most certainly ecstatic to announce the news of our engagement. The preparations for the wedding are to begin immediately, as it is expected to happen in a month. We know it seems rushed and rather soon, but we understand you do not wish to be kept from your abodes and families for much longer. Therefore we'll try to make the grandest, yet quickest, wedding for the benefit of everyone. My father has also humbly agreed to host the coronation for both I and Prince Namjoon during the wedding, and thus abdicating his throne."

"Anything for my darling girl, and of course my new son-in-law," the Sultan said, tears in his eyes, voice cracking with how weepy he was, emotion overtaking him. "My baby girl is finally a lady- it feels like yesterday I was cradling her in my arms, and now she's getting married! 'Tis a blessed day- if only your mother were here."

The princess's face softened for the first time, and the stony facade she held up was briefly dropped as she wrapped her arms around her father, cradling him in her arms as he did when she was a child, their eyes shiny and glistening from the tears they held back before the audience. The Sultan wiped away a tear, and you momentarily regret the insults you thought of regarding him and his ruling style, truly seeing before you a broken, albeit foolish, father. Still, he cared for his daughter, which was far more than the fathers you've served could say.

"My Betrothed, have you anything further to add to our engagement?" The princess turned to your prince, and his face went to one of surprise at being called upon. His eyes briefly scan the crowd before landing on your face, your lashes lowered demurely as a proper servant girl should keep them, but you peer up at him, eyes locking. You nod firmly, and it's as though his usual confidence fills him up again, swelling in his chest to the point it looks as though he'll burst, and he beams towards Princess Yasmin.

"Only that I wish we could be wedded by tomorrow- for I cannot wait to properly call you my wife, 'O Shining Star," he says, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips, a feather-light kiss pressing against the smooth skin.

You feel a fire burning in the pit of your stomach, and you set the last platter before escorting yourself from the premises of the dining room, feeling your skin grow hot as the temperature rises.

Damn you. Damn you for falling for a mortal- for a man- for a master!

Love.

If you truly were- no, that is impossible- love is for foolish humans. For incompetent and ignorant mortals who want something to fill their mundane and pointless lives, where everyone they love and everything they care for will die, from their lives to their legacies. Love is but a mere distraction that leads to further chaos, for without drama, excitement, or gossip, you have nothing. Life is nothing. Love is the key to misery and excitement and action- a catalyst similar to yourself.

And it wasn't for you.

Jinn weren't capable of love. You're depicted as a monster for good reason- creatures of smoke, of green skin and pointy ears, deceitful and mischevious, curses brought upon the humans by the gods for them to atone for their many sins.

You've done evil, evil things. You committed horrible, atrocious acts. You've ruined lives and ended them, affecting nations and driving some mad. No one capable of love would do that. The part of you that was human had faded, no longer on this plane of existence- and all that was left is a smoky husk who seals unfortunate fates.

But what else could this feeling be? Every time you blink, your eyes shutting briefly to let your thick lashes kiss the apples of your cheeks, you see him. You hear his melodious voice fill your ears, poems and literary words whispered softly. You see his thick lips pull into a grin, dimples poking at the corners of his mouth, as though the gods pressed deep into his cheeks, their craftsmanship impeccable. His nervousness being masked with easy confidence, and his kindness, despite the lack of necessity. His humble nature, despite everything being handed to him on a literal silver platter now.

This was forbidden in the eyes of nature, and your feelings were unheard of. He loved the princess, and even if he felt the same, it couldn't be done. You wouldn't dare let him even attempt to share the same fate as you, forced to see the ones you dare even care for die before your eyes, serving and bending to the will of others. He wouldn't be trapped to the same vessel as you, but you know how selfless he was. He'd sacrifice himself for those he loved- and you prayed to the gods and the stars above that he didn't love you. You'd push him to the ends of the Earth before you allowed that to happen.

He couldn't throw everything away for you. Your fate was sealed by your own choices, and set in stone from what you decided to do with that power- with what little choices you were granted as a jinni.

You're out of breath when you get to a hallway, empty due to all of the servants either serving or cooking. Pressing your forehead against the wall, you take in deep breaths, letting yourself rest for a moment as you attempt to regain the composure you once prided yourself in. You were alone with your thoughts- but you wouldn't be for long.

An unfamiliar form presses against you from behind, and soft, meaty hands are before you on the wall, caging you in. His chest presses against your back, and you're smooshed between his body and the wall, his groin insistently rubbing against your backside.

"Where're you running off to?" Zandar asks huskily, his hot breath against the shell of your ear.

"Had to run off to the kitchen," you inform him, knowing that you'd be unable to stand up to him properly, or else you'd be in serious trouble.

He takes in a deep breath, nose nuzzled in your hair, and you feel yourself shiver as he breathes in your scent.

"You know, you're the prettiest woman I've ever seen- prettier than the princess, though you hold less promise. I've been looking for you everywhere, but you're never away from him." Prince Zandar hisses the pronoun like a curse, as though he couldn't stand to so much as say the name of the man who had stolen his short-lived glory.

"That is because the soon-to-be-Sultan is more of a man that you ever will be," you reply curtly, though he simply presses his hand against the back of your head, smooshing your face against the wall as he presses his body more firmly against yours.

"I see how he puts up with an attitude like yours- especially with a figure like that. You're lucky- if you were my mistress, I'd have your tongue cut out by now. I'll have you know, for your information, that I am far more than that phony on the princess's arm. I know what he really is."

"And what's that?" you question, huffing as you twist under his grip, pushing him back with reasonable strength where he's momentarily surprised but not alarmed. If you wish, you would be able to throw him through the walls, but that would only grant him a quick death. He didn't deserve that.

Zandar glowers, stepping forward, showing how he wasn't intimidated by your brief moment of strength. He may be far more physically soft than Namjoon, but if you were truly human, he'd definitely be stronger than you. Not that he had to know that little detail didn't exactly apply in this scenario. His face is close to yours, and you see his nostrils flare, and for a moment you expect smoke to billow into your face.

"An imposter," Zandar hisses, spitting the syllables in a venomous tone. "I don't know what sort of spell he's got everyone- from the Sultan to even you, a mere servant- under, but I'm going to put a stop to this. He thinks he's got everyone fooled, but just wait until the princess knows what he truly is. He's no prince- just some rat from the street."

You laugh in his face, a boisterous, unladylike laugh that fills the empty hallway. Losing composure but selling the ridiculousness of his beliefs, you find yourself becoming teary-eyed. Inside you were filled with dread and worry at his suspicions. "That is ridiculous- how could a street urchin get into the palace? I've worked for Prince Namjoon for years- I cannot once recall him so much as touching a rag."

"See? That's it! He's got these false memories that he's given everyone! Convincing them of Pagean Isles- and I wouldn't be surprised if he's tricked you with false memories, having them fill your mind." Prince Zandar is going off on a tangent now, his mind spinning, and he's got a crazed look in his eye.

"How would he twist the perceptions of many? It is an impossible feat." You sound haughty and disbelieving, but you know that the prince is too riled up with his suspicions to note how improperly you greet him.

Zandar turns to you, wide-eyed, before gripping you by your arms and pinning you to the wall. "There's only one way he could've done this," Prince Zandar says, his voice in a hushed whisper, as though he were scared of someone eavesdropping. His fingers dig into your arms so tightly that you know bruises will mark your skin. He says the words as though it were a sudden realization, the answer inches before his face, yet he was so blind not to see it before.

"A jinni."

-

"I know not of napkins or linen or flowers- but I must say one thing I'm fairly acquainted in is a taste for delicacies," Namjoon says, plucking a finger food from a passing servant as they bustled to get to the kitchen, ready for the taste test. The wedding was only a few weeks away, and everyone seemed to bounce on the balls of their feet from place to place, anxious and giddy to see their beloved princess shrouded in white.

"How would you know? The only delicacies that touched your tongue resided from the bottom of barrels," you remark, sweeping yourself to the side as a servant barrels past you. You feel the wind rush behind them, the breeze wafting around your face along with the smell of the latest delight. Fruits and chocolate- no one could go wrong with that.

"And it is precisely that fact that makes me such a good taste tester," Namjoon exclaims, plucking another from a servant as he eats it, squeezing his eyes shut as he savors the flavor. "I know bad food- and this most definitely isn't bad food."

"One would think you'd be more than acquainted with the fine dining behind these marble walls," you scoffed, though the usual light smile still tugged at the corner of your lips, as always when you were with him.

"I'm not used to anything yet. My whole life I had known only the clothes on my back and the only responsibility I bore was to survive- now I have to help pick out between fabrics of the exact same shade and color as well as ready myself to be an emperor- though she's doing more of the heavy lifting. I'm more so a trophy husband."

"And a very regal one at that," you laughed, smoothing over the fabric of the silks that had become wrinkled or needed adjusting. "I'm sure all will envy the handsome Emperor, whom the Queen will be more than willing to show off."

Namjoon scoffed at that. "I'm nothing more than a statue to admire, I presume."

"Well, hopefully, you're still clothed. Artists seem to be fascinated with the naked human body-and something tells me you can't go about the court as bare as the day you came into this world," you say, voice snarky as you lightly teased the man.

Namjoon chuckled softly at that before a concerned expression replaced the ease. "You don't suppose Princess Yasmin... will want kids, do you?"

You frowned at that. "Well, an heir will be required, I'm sure. Not immediately, however- though it is expected. I'm sure if you're uncomfortable with the idea of being a father, however, she'll be more than understanding. More than likely she'll figure something out- the woman's brilliant beyond her years. I'm sure she'd make a fine jinni."

"I want kids, sure- but I guess not in this way," Namjoon sighs. You question yourself whether or not to pry further, but Namjoon snaps his head up and shakes his head, as though clearing his mind. "Enough on that- that'll be so far ahead anyway. We should focus on something else."

"What is it you suggest, Master?" you question. There wasn't much to do other than observe the servants bustling around, and even then, you both were required to look after it and approve of any choices that are to be made. Even a groom and guest had his responsibilities for a wedding, you supposed.

Namjoon leaned in close, and his life and warmth radiated onto you, making you tense up automatically. A scent that was strangely a combination of both musky and fresh wafted over you, and you did all you could not to look at the man. "Do you see the servant holding the bowl of grapes over her head?"

"I do," you nod, eyeing her immediately.

"I saw her put a few of the spoiled grapes in the pocket of her dress. Try and take them."

You turned to him in surprise. "You mean pickpocket?"

Namjoon grinned back. "Yes- part of me misses it, admittedly. It was my main source of income if you will. Just casually bump into the person and slip your hand in their pocket to steal whatever's inside. Besides, it's just spoiled grapes- so it's not a crime... like I did on the streets, I suppose."

"I'm not quite sure, Sir Namjoon," you murmur, biting the inside of your cheek. It'd be much easier- though unnecessary- to use magic to accomplish the task. However, you supposed that was part of the challenge.

"It's easier than it seems- let me demonstrate." Namjoon holds you by the shoulders, as though grounding you to Earth to keep you from floating above to the heavens. He takes a step back before walking forward, shoulder bumping against yours. It's at that moment you feel nimble, slender fingers slip into the pocket of your dress, and Namjoon pulls out the piece of fabric from within. Had you not been so hyperaware of his every movement, let that be for your feelings or your keen senses, you know you wouldn't have even noticed the action.

"See? Just like that." Namjoon beams at the natural movement. It seemed as easy as breathing to him, and you could sense an air of comfort as he practiced the action- one he hadn't genuinely felt in the palace. He handed you the fabric, and you clutch it in your hand, biting the inside of your cheek.

"Fine," you briskly say, marching towards the girl in question with a new sense of determination. You could practically feel the gaze of your Master burning into the back of your head, but you tried to shake off the hyperawareness as you inched closer to her.

You bumped into her- shoulders colliding- but not hard enough to completely stagger her. Just enough to get her attention as she clutched the bowl of fruit on her head a bit tighter. Your fingers slipped into the pocket, feeling around the cotton before getting a singular spoiled grape, the fruit squishy and deflated between your fingers. You weren't nearly as graceful as Namjoon was- a bit more on the jerky side in contrast to your usual movements- but you had succeeded. You felt an air of pride surmise you despite how insignificant the action truly was, and at that moment you felt silly.

Slipping the grape into your pocket, you turn to the girl with a grimace. "My deepest apologies," you say, slightly bowing your head as you scurry on. You couldn't turn straight back to Namjoon- otherwise, it would be well spotted that you simply walked over to bump into the girl. So instead you slip deeper into the hustle and bustle of servants, careful as you moved around them with elegance and grace, not a single action of skin brushing against skin.

"You're the servant of Prince Namjoon, Sir of the Pagean Isles, and Emperor to Be- correct?"

You turn to a young servant girl- one who had probably reached puberty but a few years ago- talking to you directly. Surprised, you allow yourself to nod. "That I am."

The girl squealed and grasped your wrist, yanking you along past the scurrying servants who paid no mind to you. You were dragged into one of the kitchens, the scene bizarrely even more fast-paced in comparison. You were soon greeted with a young group of teenagers in one of the quieter sections of the kitchen, their breaths held tight in their lungs as you approached.

"It's her! Maiden of the Pagean Isles-" the young girl whispered. "Prince Namjoon's servant!"

"Oh, it's her!"

"You're so pretty!"

"Oh gods, we have so much to ask!"

You blinked in surprise, stunned. They wanted to talk to you? "What is it you ask, children?" you question, though your speech is far more eloquent than necessary, seeing as these girls clearly never learned how to so much as read- being common kitchen servants and all. Not that it was their fault.

"Have you seen the Prince shirtless?"

"Are you upset your lover is getting married?"

"Are you in love with the Prince?"

Ah, that made more sense.

"I'm no concubine of the Prince- and never have been. We are simply servant and employer, though I know rumors circulate. It's understandable you want something to quench your thirst for information, however," you say. You couldn't remember the last time you were their age- back when you were human. Were you this nosy?

"No way- you look at him the way my sister looks at the bakery boy," one girl giggles, receiving a jab from another- who you presume is her sister.

"You seem to be at least friends- all of the employers here are mean," another remarks.

"His Highness is just a very kind man, that's all. I'm sure he'd treat all of you with the same dignity and respect- like the princesses you are inside," you say, smiling softly as you tap one on the nose- the youngest, from the looks of it- earning a giggle. "Now, if you do excuse me, Your Royal Highnesses, I must depart and attend to servantly business."

You glide away, though your enhanced hearing picks up on their busy whispers and high pitched tones, and you can't help but grin at their excitement. Once you're reunited with Namjoon, he gives you a questioning look.

"That took you longer than expected- did something go wrong, oh jinni?"

You shake your head, your cheeks beginning to suffer a small ache from the smiling. "Not at all- quite the opposite, Your Highness. Something went horribly, horribly right if I do say so myself." You reach into your pocket to pull out the small, spoiled grape, flicking it at Namjoon as you laughed. "And I must say, you certainly are charming with the ladies. Think they're a bit too young to be your type, however."

Namjoon gave you a questioning look, both of his eyebrows skyrocketing into his hairline, eyes wider than the biggest grapes in the palace, and you cackled in response, knowing that despite how goofy he looked in this moment, you knew exactly why all seemed to fall for him.

-

'Twas but a week before the wedding, and preparations were at work. The finishing touches were being made, and royalty was flooding throguh the gates. Despite the abundance of staff and the fact you were typically attending to Namjoon, even you were somehow swept up in the busy-work, let it be through scouring the kitchens, adding to the groom's or bridesmaids' attire, or showing guests to their room. You suspected the last one had something to do with your pretty face.

At the moment you had finally been given a chance to breathe, escorting Namjoon in the midst of night throguh the wide and spacious hallways, all of the guests fast asleep, and the very few servants who were still milling around attending to more important matters, considering the banners that draped the walls were pristine and the flowers bloomed favorably. No one else was in the hallways, save for you and your master.

Namjoon was eerily quiet, as he had been the entire day. His outfit had been tailored to perfection, fitting with precise adjustments to accommodate for his lean and proportionate body. Though he had to suck in his breath and puff out his chest during the procedure, you wouldn't have thought it irked him that much. Perhaps it was the glares of the rejected suitors or the pats on the backs he got from those who lacked green eyes.

Something seemed to be troubling him as he pondered deep in thought, seemingly going through the motions throughout the preparations. One would expect a groom-to-be to have a bit more excitement or anxiety, but instead, Namjoon appeared to be a bit more distracted.

Usually, he would tell you what was on his mind by now. As someone who's lived countless millenniums, surely your ancient mind concealed by young skin would give some form of answers that was buried beneath the soft tissue of his brain.

"What seems to be troubling you, Sir Namjoon? Ask and I'll attend," you speak, eyeing him warily.

Namjoon sighed. "Can we... Can we drop this act, for just a moment? I know it's not truly an act considering our true positions, and that you're always conscious of any eavesdroppers and such, but... Y/N, I must speak to you of extremely personal matters."

Your brows raised, and you reached out with your senses, searching for any lingering eyes or open ears. You couldn't take any chances. "Master, might this wait until we are in your quarters?"

"No- it's urgent. I need to lift this boulder from my chest before my lungs burst," Namjoon says. "and drop the formalities, please."

"You of all people should know how especially wary we must be in these open halls. I've already informed you of the young prince who suspects of your deception, and if he were to find out my true identity, it'd be only a matter of time before he'd find the lamp as well."

"Impossible- I make sure to keep it on my person at all times, despite the tailoring," Namjoon assures you. It had taken a bit of trouble to convince the seamstresses that it was a tradition for the groom to have a lamp at his hip, to signify the eternal love that would burn bright throughout the marriage.

It was much further trouble to convince the people, however, that the reason that none of the guests were from the Pagean Isles was that they had simply insisted on another wedding or perhaps a honeymoon in their own residences, specifically in the hopes to see their new queen. You supposed the princess would do her best to go along with the lie, but you figured it would only be a matter of time before Namjoon would have to quell the suspicions and wish for a kingdom of his own to rule. You had already rehearsed the last conversation in your head, as though preparing yourself for the moment you'd be whisked away into the lamp for another few hundred years.

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath as you realize he wasn't going to take no for an answer. Namjoon was stubborn like that- one of the many reasons you admired him so.

"What is this urgent business that needs attending? Have you decided on your final wish, Young Master?"

"No, I..." Namjoon gulped, taking a step forward. Your back pressed against the marble wall, and Namjoon caged you in, his gentle hands on your shoulders as he looked in your eyes. You felt your heart palpitating at the same beat as his, the life and sensations of anxiety and fear filling you to the brim.

"I don't want to get married to Princess Yasmin."

Your eyes were wide as you looked to him. "Cold feet? What's brought this to mind? This is the love of your life- one who comes with beauty and grace and gold. She's everything you could've wished for. In fact, might I remind you, that is precisely what you did!"

Namjoon took in a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to muster the courage to spit out whatever he needed to say. "No, she's not. She isn't... She isn't the love of my life." His eyes shot open, locking with your golden ones. "You are."

You felt as though all of the air in your lungs rushed out, and despite the fact you felt the compulsion to search for breath you didn't need, you held it tight. "What?" you question, your face paling. Never, in all of your years, have you found something that shocked you so. This was it.

"I don't love Yasmin. It took me so long to realize that I was in love with my perception of her, and not the real thing. I was in love with the painting but not the model. And when I met you, I jumped on the opportunity, and though she's everything I could've wanted, she isn't what I needed. You... You're careful and brilliant, my match in every way. You compliment me and bring out the best in me- the real me. I feel like my best version around you. You're the most mysterious, yet authentic person I could've encountered, and I only now know the true meaning of a facade. Everyone here wears a mask to impress except you- because you don't need to. You're just you and despite the fact you're disguised as a servant, eyes follow, and not just for your beauty. So much of it is because you draw people in naturally, and jinni or not, I have no doubt that I would've been equally enchanted as I am now had I simply seen you in a market when I was stealing apples."

Your breath hitched. "N-Namjoon, you don't know what you're saying. It's just the nerves from the wedding."

"It isn't. I know it hasn't. I love everything about you, Y/N. You need to believe me. If you told me to, we'd run away far from this place to be together. You're the only one who doesn't have ulterior motives and truly wishes for the best, despite the fact you fulfill wishes for others. I'd give you the world if I could, and I'll try my damned best because it's what you deserve and more. You... You're the most beautiful person to have walked this Earth, even the gods quiver when they look down upon your grace and wisdom. You're a constellation that belongs in the stars."

You took in all of the information at Namjoon's confession, and you knew exactly what you needed to do.

You let out a bitter, coarse laugh, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes out of appeared humor. You toss your head back as Namjooon steps back out of confusion, and you feel a rush of relief once his hands are off of you, and for once you retract from reaching out to sense the life that pulsated throughout him.

"Do you really think I could love you?"

Namjoon's face falters, and you see the crestfallen expression, one that you were familiar with whenever you glanced at your reflection but had never before seen on the mortal beauty. "I..."

You force yourself to take in a shaky breath, eyes burning as you force yourself to look him in the eye, using your infamous silver tongue. At this moment your blood boiled at a degree hotter than molten lava, coursing through your veins and igniting a flame of anger within.

"Love, at first sight, is a bewitched curse. Thy image casts spells that decides one's betrothed. You fell not for the inner workings of her mind nor the witty personality she covens, but rather her slender fingertips and bronze skin. A golden goddess you sought, and that which you received, only to have you feeling less than copper in comparison. She was all you had asked for and more- and yet you find yourself disappointed, for it is what you wanted, but not what you needed. What had changed you was the long column of her neck and the lovely head that rested upon it, but not the mind and thoughts kept within. You appreciate them but they aren't what captivated you.

"And thus you project thy infatuation on what you are comfortable with, whose inner workings you've come to appreciate and know without the majestic beauty blinding you, without smitten thoughts and lovelorn glances blinding you from the actual perception, but one cannot know whether or not you truly do love that. Looks are mere perceptions of one's mind, and now that your perception of another is skewed, you put your faith into another you believe to be true. However, it is not true. Nothing about the perception you have is true, as the reality you know is but a mere illusion, and you should fear the one who wields the power to snap their fingers and unravel everything you thought you knew, as the truth is more damaging than any of the temporary things you hold to value- let it be knowledge, love, lives, or items. Fear the truth, and thus fear me, for it is I who shall be your undoing."

"What I try to express to you is that my feelings for you are genuine, and though I know love, at first sight, isn't real, my love for you is. I have cast away my perception of the golden goddess, and the me before is a fool who pales in comparison to the me with you. I admit I was foolish and selfish at the time, but believe me when I tell you they've changed completely," Namjoon says, his voice in almost a pleading tone as he stutters. His voice cracks, as does his princely mirage, and you're left staring at a peasant in silk, an imposter and broken boy that no other had seen. The vulnerable side of him. He placed your hand on his beating chest, and you feel the life, heartbreak, fear, and anxiety course through you from the simple touch. He stares you in the eye. "Please... Believe me."

You wretch your hand away, as though disgusted, and you feel so overwhelmed with the emotions he flooded you with.

"Even if your intentions are good and pure, this could never work. You don't love me at all, you simply love how I look. You of all people should know this is a husk that I wear, a stolen face and body. I can appear as whoever I wish, and my true form is a monstrous one."

"I didn't fall for your looks. I fell for the princess's looks at first, but I fell for something deeper when it came to you," Namjoon argued.

"Really?" you question. Your features dissolve and reshape, and soon enough you're looking at Namjoon with an adoring face that shone brighter than a thousand and one suns, a smile he had never seen on Princess Yasmin's face until now. It was bitter and angry and cold- everything a monster like you should be. "Is that so, future-husband?" Your voice mimics hers, the stoic and calm demeanor matched exactly.

Namjoon's eyes go wide, and his heart palpitates. He steps back. "Y/N, stop-"

"But I am older than the dunes we live in, Master. If it weren't for my eternal looks, I'd be old and wrinkled, withering away into ash and dust to blow away with the wind." As you speak, the Princess's face ages, your skin paling and sagging, wrinkles upon wrinkles as your hair turns white before falling at your feet. Your back hunches over and you stoop, your hands reaching out with gnarled knuckles and long talons, a crone to be reckoned with. You latch onto Namjoon, who in fear swipes his hands away to pull from your tight grip, and you dissolve into a pile of dust at his feet, the clothes on your back now a heap on the floor.

"Y/N, I get it, stop! I don't care if your mind is ancient or your face is youthful, how shallow do you believe me to be? I'm no avarice prince nor haughty suitor- you of all people should realize that I'm still a pauper at heart, and though I'm masked by a lie within these walls, I can never bring myself to lie to you."

You reassemble yourself, wearing your normal face once more, the youthful, familiar appearance allowing him to exhale. That was a mistake, for one should be wary when the caged lioness stops snarling.

"The problem isn't of deception on your part- but one on mine. You are a fool to think I'm capable of any emotion other than pure, sniveling hatred. Love is a burden I do not bear, for it is the way of my kin. Have you not heard monstrous tales of jinni who lash out upon their victims? Many mortals believe we were sent to grant desires, but instead, we are sent to whip the lashes of the gods' fury upon their people. I am a hideous beast, through and through, inside and out."

Your skin turns dark blue, your golden eyes getting bigger as you grow in size, pearly teeth instead forming into long, yellow fangs. You tower over Namjoon with each step until it is he who is pressed against the wall, your face one of an atrocity as drool drips from your forked tongue.

Namjoon, once erratic at your transformations, seems to have composed himself. "I've stated before, I don't care what you look like. 'Tis your golden heart, not eyes, that I've fallen for."

You shrink back at that, recoiling once more into your human state. "You are a fool, dear Master. You don't know me in the slightest. I am beyond comprehension to a simple mortal such as yourself- and there's nothing that can change that."

"Why? Because you've got eons of memories and wisdom stored in that brilliant head of yours? We both know that power is a curse seldom truly wish to bear. You can tell me everything about what you've learned and I'll be utterly enchanted- you of all people should know that."

You shake your head solemnly. "I don't mean a monster just from the outside- I've made terrible mistakes that affect people to this day."

"What are these atrocities you speak of?" Namjoon questions.

"I've twisted words and fooled mankind with my own disgust and judgments. A man consumed by gluttony asked for enough food to sustain him the rest of his life, and so I had him eat his own flesh until he was no more than bone. A man wanted to be the most beautiful creature to walk the Earth, and that request I fulfilled, but he became so enamored with his reflection that he died by the pool where he'd gaze at his image. A woman wished for the sister she was constantly jealous of to suffer from the same amount of grief that she had during their childhood- and so the sister's lineage was a barren one. I've spread plagues throughout cities and wiped out populations. I've killed and I've hung and I've reaped pleasure from the lives of the innocents. I've made children into orphans and women into widows. And not once did I feel remorse. 'Tis not only the Jinn's looks that are described as ugly; it is also their personality."

Namjoon was quiet at that, comprehending the information you gave him. You look at him solemnly, dragging your finger down your chest delicately, a tear revealing as though someone was pulling stitches out of a fresh cut, pulling back at the false skin to reveal tendrils of dark blue smoke. Where there was supposed to be a heart, muscles, flesh, bone, and blood, was only smoke. That's all you truly were. "How could one possibly fall for a heartless creature such as I?"

"I don't think you're like that anymore," he says softly, licking his lips as they began to dry. "I know you made mistakes through what little free will you had- but I can tell that you have remorse for your actions now, even if you didn't then. You didn't care for humanity, the community you were once part of, but that isn't true anymore. Despite what you believe and what you told, my feelings for you ring true, dear Y/N."

He takes his hands in yours, clutching them tightly, and you feel it. The love that causes his pupils to dilate, his heart to palpitate, and the breath to knock out of his lungs. It overwhelms you and fills you to the brim, and you're swimming in his emotion, a sensation you would've never thought to be true.

You slip your hands from his, tears brimming your eyes despite all of the willpower you could muster. "I can't let you throw away what you've been given and what you've worked for. You desired the princess, with the riches and luxury and power it came with, and your wish is my command. I intend to see your request fulfilled, and I won't let that magic go to waste. You are young and foolish, and though you believe yourself to be my fool, in the blink of an eye you'll be buried in the sand, and I'll have served countless more after you."

Namjoon's eyes brim with tears as his voice cracks. "Y/N... please..."

Your head hangs low, and you let yourself begin to dissipate into smoke, billowing around him. "Love between a mortal and a jinni can only lead to heartbreak and despair. I wish only the best for you, for you're kind and honest and brilliant. That is the reason why I cannot let you tumble to your doom, as I've led many others. I'm sorry to reject you so, but you'll forgive me eventually. This is for the best... because... because..."

"Because?" There's a lilt in his voice as he looks up at you with false hope, tears streaming down his cheeks silently. He was a very pretty crier.

You feel your heart sink in your chest, and it's at that moment you remember you have none. You have no heart, you have no feelings, and when it came down to it you had nothing. Not even him.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "Because I regret even meeting you."

Rocking Against the waves of the ocean Forever confined to A cold prison No sleep, food, or company Servant and slave Bound by shackles To punish rather than save A child sacrificed A girl shattered A human broken A monster created

-

'Twas five days before the wedding when the princess invited Prince Namjoon to dine together in the garden, in a sense as a private picnic. The guards and maidens in waiting stood watch, eyes trained on the couple, though they were at a far enough range where they'd be unable to eavesdrop on the conversation.

You were close by, however, unable to wander far from Namjoon's perimeter. Despite the air that clung tight to the two of you, it wasn't as though you were granted many choices when it came to how close in proximity you were to each other. Therefore, you had hidden in the form of a butterfly, hanging delicately to one of the orchids closest to the two.

"I figured I should become better acquainted with my future husband- proper dates are part of courtship, after all," Princess Yasmin said, her legs crossed beneath her on the silk of which the two sat.

"I agree entirely," Namjoon said, popping one of the berries from the meal that had been prepared. "I'll say, the preparations have everyone buzzing about. I don't know the first thing about participating in all of it."

"So long as you say 'I do', I'm sure it'll turn out wonderfully," the Princess says cooly, a slight smile tugging at her lips. "I'm not fond of much of it myself, but my father is rather insistent. 'Let it be a wedding that'll be boasted about for centuries!' he says. It's as though he wishes the gods to envy us from their constellations above."

"Only the finest for his daughter, so it seems," Namjoon laughs. "I must say, in that regard, I agree with the Sultan."

"I think much of it has to do with the fact that I've finally become content with the idea of becoming a wife and giving him an heir. He's always wanted a son, but when my mother died, that wasn't an option any longer."

"I'm sorry to hear of that," Namjoon frowns. "But I assure you that you're far better than any shining boy your father could've produced. You'll make the kingdom far prouder than any brother would've."

"I appreciate your sentiments. You know exactly what to say- though makes you dangerous," Yasmin jokes. "Perhaps I'll use you as a secret weapon in the event that we go to war."

"Charm can only get you so far on the battlefield, I'm afraid," Namjoon countered. "A wink and a smile will only convince five soldiers at a time to drop their weapons."

A genuine smile spread upon the Princess's lips this time. "Then your humor and jokes will surely compensate tenfold."

"Ah, I hadn't thought of that one. Perhaps I should be at the front."

The two shared a grin, and it appeared there was actual hope for genuine feelings to blossom on the princess's part. Your wings fluttered similarly to your heart, and though you felt it sink in whatever form of a chest you had, you knew it was best. Namjoon simply had a temporary infatuation with you due to his frustrations of trying to get closer to the Princess, whose walls could rival your own.

"You know, I've spoken to Miss Y/N about joining my ladies in waiting. I'm sure she already informed you of that information, however. Still, I figured I'd remind you so that you'd know to turn to me whenever you wished to see her. I completely understand regarding your relationship, of course."

Namjoon's face paled at that. "Our relationship? She said we had a relationship?"

The princess glanced up from one of the fruits she was picking up, locking eyes with Namjoon's nervous gaze. You could hear his heartbeat echoing through your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to bring your palm to your forehead.

She lowered her voice. "Your friendship despite the unusual circumstances."

"Oh, of course," Namjoon said, clearing his voice. "Sorry, rumors mill about, I would simply be surprised if she had accidentally said something that would've skewed the perception in line with the rumors."

"Miss Y/N is careful with her words, though. I'm surprised you hadn't made her one of your royal advisors," Princess Yasmin comments. She studies him for a moment, her voice barely above a whisper despite the fact the people around for their security couldn't eavesdrop anyway. "Could it be you've got cold feet, 'O Betrothed?"

"What? Of course not. My heart is devoted to one and only one, dear Princess," Namjoon assures her.

"Then might I kiss you, groom-to-be? Though our culture and traditions are old fashioned, especially behind these marble walls, I very much doubt ant of the onlookers will have the courage to speak up. One can't speak highly of their morals when their job requires them to be prepared to kill on sight," the Princess tests, eyeing him carefully. "Besides, we'd have to consummate the marriage sooner or later. One of our many duties is to produce a shining heir."

"Of course. It would be an honor to place a kiss upon thy ruby lips," Namjoon spoke.

You were unsure of whether or not Princess Yasmin had even kissed someone before, but she showed no hesitancy, sculpting her mouth to his, petal-like lips tugging against his own. Once she pulled back, she studied him, as though to see whether or not he was tense. It was odd how indifferent she seemed towards all of it, especially considering the fact they had an audience.

"If you wish, we can cancel the wedding. I won't lie and say it won't be burdensome, but I'm more than willing. We can even fake your death after we're married and I'm coronated as Queen- I promise to grieve your death for ten years minimum. By all means, however, let me be the last to stand in the way of true love."

"That isn't the case at all, bride-to-be," Namjoon says, eyes wide. "I... Y/N has more than assured me that this wedding would be best. It'd be best for all involved, in fact. Not to mention the fact I've had my eyes laid on you since the moment I saw you. I'm sure many have told you what a vision you are to behold."

"But is it true?" she presses on, her voice in a hushed whisper.

Namjoon's quiet for a moment. "She's more than assured me that she has no feelings whatsoever for me. I'd rather not go over the details, but I want to follow through with her wishes. She's wiser than I in many ways."

The Princess hums, lips pursed as she bites into a piece of fruit. "If that's the case... I suppose we must let the wedding commence, shouldn't we?"

"We should," Namjoon confirms.

-

It was three days before the wedding when you were called to the Princess's quarters. She welcomed you with open arms, a warm, soft smile gracing her lips, though it didn't show her teeth nor reach her eyes. You accept her embrace, held in her arms as she calls you sister.

"Come, we've much to discuss," she says softly. "I've even had my ladies in waiting leave me be for these moments. I've not a second to myself these days, though it is a curse I've had since I was born. Privacy is a privilege not even the rich can afford."

"Might I ask why it is you've beckoned me to your side once more?" you question, though you know in the future it was quite possible there would be more to come.

"One on one, we must speak. We are women of power, you and I. I, a ruler, or ruler to be, more precisely. And you, a jinni, though I'm sure you've already become well aware of the fact that I know what you are."

"You're more observant than scholars and wanderers alike," you compliment.

A delicate shrug graces her shoulders. "'Tis because they didn't have a woman's touch. We girls have to pay close attention to detail, isn't it so?"

"Quite a truth that rings true through the ages," you hum, the two of you walking side by side. It felt good, to act as oneself. Sure, you had Namjoon, but seeing how things were between you two at the moment, you couldn't exactly stretch out as you once could with him. Besides that, the Princess wasn't a master of your lamp. In that sense, you could truly call her a friend. At least as close to one as you girls could afford.

"It appears that the Prince pines for another now," Yasmin comments, walking forward as you step by her side. "Before you speak, know there's no use in denying it. I've already made it clear that I know a lie when I see one, no matter how excellent, and though you've done well when it comes to crafting this one, he's transparent at best when it comes to his feelings for you."

"He's lived only twenty-four summers- he doesn't know the difference between infatuation, lust, and love," you say.

"I believe he does, on the contrary. He's lusted after girls- I can tell with how easily he charms the ones around here- and he was infatuated with me. With you, however... It is neither, for he knows you as a person, not as a sexual object nor an idol. He need not project for he sees you as what you are. Even you're aware that he truly didn't know me nor love me, we were both content with that. However, that no longer seems to be the case."

"He doesn't know me- not truly. I've lived and learned an infinite amount of lives and knowledge. How could one possibly hope to know one such as myself in but a span of a few months?"

"We know each other not from their knowledge nor intelligence, but from their words, thoughts, and actions. It is what makes a character. It doesn't matter how many scrolls one reads, nor how many lives they live. If that were the case, those would define who we are," the Princess says quietly.

You don't quite know how to respond to that.

"I assume he confessed- I garnered as much," Yasmin says. "I also assume that you didn't react the way he had hoped."

"That would be a massive understatement," you sigh to yourself. It felt strange, opening up to the Princess of all people about the complexities of your relationship with Namjoon- especially considering the fact that she was his bride-to-be.

"What did you say?"

"I said the most awful things. I questioned how he could possibly believe I'd feel for him, and how he fell so vainly for you, along with how we could never be for what... what I am," you breathe, feeling the guilt wrack at your brain as you say the words aloud. "To top it all off, I said I regretted meeting him."

The Princess was quiet for a moment, comprehending all of it. You wait for her judgment, for a cold glare and sneer. Instead, as always, she surprises you. "I understand why you did it."

You didn't have to look at her in surprise and ask for her to explain, because, in that one look, you knew that she knew as well. You two got each other's motives, always having to work for the greater good and for others first, at the expense of one's own happiness. She wasn't your equal in power, but she got you on a deeper level. If she could, why couldn't Namjoon?

"If you do change your mind about all of it, however, inform me. I'll come up with something to let you two be together. I can tell that he's head over heels for you. He never even looked at me that way- but he's given you those puppy-doll eyes for months now."

"I won't be changing my mind. Not only is this the best option for him, but it also is for you. It would look suspicious if you were to fake his death immediately, and no doubt that, despite your grievances, you'll be married immediately afterward."

"I suppose you're right," Yasmin sighs. "There really isn't much more we can do, hm? This is... for the best."

"For the kingdom."

"For everyone involved."

"For him," you say, a lump in your throat as you picture him in your head. No doubt you'll have to convince him to make a wish sooner or later. It'll be best to help everyone move on.

"You should tell him the truth, though. For closure. Before his mind had been brought towards the future, but if you don't tell him, it shall always remain in the past," she spoke softly. "He deserves the truth, as does anyone else. Everyone deserves honesty- even the liars."

For someone not even a fraction of your age, she was wise.

-

It was the day of the wedding, and your dear Prince looked as regal as ever.  His silken outfit made him look like the crown jewel, and everything about him looked as royal as ever. Everything except his hands, which, despite being studded with jewels and rings, were rough and calloused. They would never be a prince's hands, but a constant reminder instead of the pain and hard work he had to endure as a peasant.

He had been granted but two hours before the wedding to himself, left in his outfit to contemplate his thoughts. You resided in the room as well, all of his belongings already being converted to a new suite that he and the princess were to share that night. You had no doubt their children would be beautiful, and you prayed to the gods that they would wear his dimples and share his copper eyes.

Namjoon stared in the mirror on the vanity, sitting down before it, his eyes locked with his reflection's.

Tears had begun to slip down his cheeks, and he choked on the lump in his throat.

Your heart crumbled, and you thought back to the Princess's words from three days ago. You ache for him, feeling his energy and emotions radiate off of him in melancholy waves. You hesitantly step forward behind him, reaching down to wrap your arms around him in an embrace. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, and his nose nuzzles into the side of your hair. You don't worry about ruining the bridesmaid's dress that the Princess insisted you wear, instead choosing to let his tears softly hit the fabric.

"I'm sorry," you say, your voice hoards despite the fact you hadn't screamed nor cried that day. "I truly am."

"I am too," Namjoon speaks softly, holding onto you, his grip tight around the arms that gave him a loving embrace. "I love you."

You gulp, feeling tears spring up. "I know."

"Despite everything?"

"Despite everything," you say, a lump forming in your throat. "I didn't mean what I said. Namjoon... You're the most genuine and loving man I've met, and you're unlike any other. I said what I did because... because I feel the same, and I didn't know how to push you away. That didn't seem to work though, did it? Here we are." You chuckle softly at that when you realize fresh tears had fallen on your own cheeks now. You couldn't remember the last time you cried, nor the last time you felt so vulnerable. "The problem isn't that we couldn't... it's that we shouldn't."

"If you said so, we could walk away from all of this right now. You know I would," Namjoon promises, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

You shake your head, burying your face further into the warm skin at the nape of his neck. "This is for the best. The princess needs you, for the other suitors aren't even half the man you are. Even if we were to fake your death after the coronation, it would look too sketchy and she'd be subjected to another marriage, but this time with a tainted reputation. You're the best hope they have for Sultan- and you'd know how to actually make a difference. Do you want to prove the falsehoods I claimed and show yourself to be selfish?"

"No," he admitted. "I want you... but that's unfair to everybody."

"This is for the best," you say with a solemn voice. "You have potential with her- you truly do. You had feelings before, and I'm sure they can reappear with time. She's fond of you, and the two of you have more than enough chemistry. You can make it work and be happy with her."

"I don't want to be happy with her- I want to be happy with you. I need to," he insists, his voice cracking, as though he were a little kid whining over a toy. You smiled lightly at the comparison.

"You don't need me anymore- my job is done. I suggest you make your wish quickly so that we'll both be able to move on. The sooner you forget me, the better. I'll be no more than a fairytale."

"What will happen to you?"

You shrug simply, raising yourself, though still embracing him. You kiss his soft locks, careful not to mess up his hair. "I'll live many eons more and serve countless more masters until our world is destroyed, and I'm smoke drifting through space and orbiting around stars, as the gods wish. You will be nothing more than a moment in time, as all mortals are. However, you'll be the moment I cherished."

"That seems to be a cruel fate," he sighs.

You smile at that, more tears rolling down your cheeks. "Isn't it? A tragically beautiful one at that."

His face is shiny with tears as he tilts his head back to look at you. You wipe his tears with your thumbs, cradling his face in your hands as you stare at each other, eyes locked despite seeing the other in an upside down sense.

"If we must be subjected to irreversible, irreversible fates, can we have one last moment together? To get us through the scriptures written for us through the stars' alignments?"

"Your wish is my command," you whisper softly, one of your tears landing on his cheek.

His voice cracks. "Can I kiss you?"

Your eyes water even more to the point where you can't see him clearly. "I highly doubt that's a good idea, Master."

"It most definitely isn't," Namjoon confirms, sighing heavily. "I just..."

He looks so heartbroken, a crestfallen expression consuming him. Almost without thought, your lips swoop down to catch his, a tender kiss being shared between you two. His soft, plush lips are trapped in your own, and he leans his head back to kiss you properly, making the press of your mouth against his all the more firm. His hand comes up to bury itself in your locks, keeping you in place. Both of you could taste the salt of the tears that slipped down to where your lips intertwined, but neither of you cared. You just felt him, all of him, through that single movement. The despair, the heartbreak, the acceptance. It was so intense it felt as though it were your emotions too.

You break off from him for a moment, staring down at you. His fingers trail through your hair, from the roots to the ends, twirling it between the slender digits as his eyes lock with yours. His gaze is still soft and watery.

"I love you," he says once more. "Everything about you- your lyrically written words and your perfect imperfections. You're so enchanting that it's easy to believe you're not human. I'll tell my children about the ethereal vision they should've had the honor to behold."

"Curses upon you, Namjoon, for raising my standards for Masters for centuries to come," you say softly, offering a weak grin as you trace his jawline with your fingertips.

He grins, a small chuckle emitting from his throat, and the action causes more tears to slip from the sides of his face. "Say it again: my name. You don't say it often, and I want some of my last memories to be of you saying my name. Lord knows I'll have to make my third and final wish eventually. It burdens me to keep you as a prisoner to my whim and desires."

"Namjoon," you say, pressing your lips against his once more, the taste of him as addicting as it was alluring. Oh, how you've stared at these lips for far too long. "Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon," you whimper into his mouth, letting him greedily swallow the words.

Namjoon pulls from you for but a moment, and before you knew it, you were being pulled into his lap, your skirt riding up your thighs along with his hands, both of your legs straddling his lap. He pressed his lips firmly against your own, trapping any protests with his mouth, screwing his eyes shut as he felt your soft skin beneath his fingertips, as though trying to remember it and ingrain it into his mind.

You let your hands roam over his broad shoulders, traveling into the silky locks and over the back of his neck, pressing his body firmly against your own, closing your eyes. You wanted the embrace to be permanent- even if it were only through muscle memory.

His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, lips latching and roaming over every bare inch of skin they could find. You pull him closer to your body, tilting your head back and craning your neck to give him better access to the canvas that was your skin.

His hands ran up your dress, warm palms roaming up and down your thighs and waist, pressing and digging firmly into the soft flesh. His lips latched down to the buttons of your bridesmaid's dress, quickly undoing the buttons with his skillful mouth. You simply whimper, staring down and offering no protest. How sinful, that he was committing such atrocities with you but an hour or so before he was to be wed. Still, your mind was so hazy with lust and lost that you couldn't bring yourself to care, simply leaning back further as he pressed soft kisses down from the valley of your breasts, navel, and belly button.

You came back up as though for air, only to press your lips against his. You wanted so badly to undress him, to see the smooth expanse of tan, golden skin. To feel his heart beating firmly beneath your palm, assuring you he was far more alive than you would ever be, and despite that you were glad. However, you were pressed for time, and what you yearned most was for him to be closer to you than you had ever been. A sense of intimacy and bond that you had never experienced with any man or mortal before.

The last time a man had been inside you was when a vengeful wife wished for her unfaithful husband to suffer an atrocious death. The quick change from pleasure to fear was the last thing you remembered of that particular wish.

When you looked down at Namjoon, however, as he slid your dress back and off of you, to where you were bare and naked before his fully clothed form, he only looked at you with a mix of adoration and lust. Never before had someone made you, an all-powerful jinni who could crush the world in the palm of her hand, tremble in vulnerability. Your perfectly sculpted body didn't disappoint, however, as Namjoon's mouth quickly latched onto your perky nipples, eyes locked with yours as he worshipped every inch of skin he could reach.

Your hands wove into his locks, pressing him closer as though to urge him for more, and he didn't disappoint. His warm hands were as busy as his abusing mouth, one of them reaching forward, sliding over your thigh to pet at your folds, warming you up with a patient touch.

"Namjoon," you whimper, feeling the wetness on his fingers as they repeatedly slipped through your slippery folds.

"I know, baby, I know," Namjoon mumbles, face buried into the crook of your neck again. "I'll make you feel good- I'll get you there."

You gasped at the feeling of his thumb pressing firmly against your clit, and you quivered on top of him, leaning back to rest your elbows against the vanity, tilting your head back until it bumped against the mirror. Namjoon kept you firmly balanced on his lap, hands alternating between rubbing at your clit and rubbing your folds.

You felt your clit ache and throb with need, the swollen little nub begging for more attention when his thumb slid back down to your folds to gather more lubrication. Feeling neglected, you looked at him with pitiful eyes, a pout on your lips. "Namjoon, please," you whimper. "Let me cum."

"Not yet, baby," he chuckles, amused with your desperation as he circles his thumb tauntingly around the clit, teasing it without so much as touching it. He quickly lifts you off of his lap to sit on the vanity, and you whine at the absence of his touch. You were about to protest again when he slipped a finger inside of you, searching until his finger curled, and you felt yourself jerk your hips against his hand. He smirked, his look one of mock-coyness as he curled his finger again, pressing it against your g-spot and having you moan aloud.

"You're so tight- clenching down on my fingers. How will my cock be able to properly fill you?"

"N-Namjoon," you say, screwing your eyes shut. "Right there, keep going."

"Your wish is my command," he chuckles, adding another finger, finding no resistance due to how slick your walls were at the moment. You loved the sensation of his fingers rubbing against your walls with each thrust, the movements precise and his grip firm, your toes curling as he stimulated you thoroughly.

You felt yourself tumble when his lips lowered down to gently suck at your clit, and you felt something close to sensory overload, your body shaking on his as you launched yourself forward to press your sticky body against his, gripping onto him as your orgasm took hold. You muttered and cursed lovely profanities into his ear as he helped you through it,  letting you convulse on top of him, your heat still buried against his face and your thighs tight around his head as he pets your folds once more, letting you ride out your orgasm.

You panted and heaved, breathless once it had subsided, and you stared down at Namjoon, who only smiled with the cocky grin you were all too familiar with.

"I told you I knew what I was doing," Namjoon laughed, hands reaching back to palm your ass, squeezing the flesh as he teased you.

"Funny," you say, letting out a dry laugh, reaching down to rub your hand against the bulge hidden beneath the fabric. "Seems as though you can barely contain yourself, Master."

"Why don't you take care of Master's little problem then, huh?" he questioned, quirking a brow.

You smirk at that, your lids drooping as you thought about how perfect he'd look once he was positively wrecked. You lifted yourself up from the vanity to settle once again in his lap. "I intend to."

Once you free his erection from its restraints, you waste no time, sinking down on him with little fanfare. The delicious burn of his thick girth has you hiss in delight, and you love seeing him tilt his head back, letting out a guttural moan. You realize this is the first time he's been inside a woman since the time you've known him- months upon months upon months. Knowing how wild his libido was- and is- you wonder how he's contained himself. This thought only makes you more eager to make it up for him.

"Fuck, you feel so tight for Master," he hisses below his breath, hands grabbing fistfuls of your ass. "So wet and tight, oh my gods."

You rock your hips against him, seeing his head tilted back to reveal the smooth expanse of the skin of his neck, Adam's apple bobbing up and down the column of his throat as he swallowed. You sucked gently, letting your tongue travel up and down the salty, golden skin. Lifting your hips up and down to slam against his own, his hands helping you with your movements as they were still firmly planted on your rear.

You toss your head back when you find a good angle, one that reaches and hits that special spot that had your toes curl every time. You were supposed to be making him feel good, but soon you were also getting lost in your throws of pleasure. You leaned back once more, gripping onto his knees as you let your hips continue their pace, nearing him closer to the edge.

You could feel him nearing his end when he lifted you again. You're in a lustful haze, mind lost as you only think about how empty you feel without him inside of you, but soon you're being bent over the vanity, facing the mirror with your naked breasts against the cold surface, and Namjoon's slipping back into you. He ruts into you from behind, his plowing hips giving him a good angle where he batters and abuses your cervix. He was so impossibly deep that you felt as though you were on cloud nine.

Namjoon only added to the rough pace of his hips, lifting your head to face the mirror, a thick bundle of your hair trapped in a tight fist. You breathed heavily, trying to stay still, your warm breath causing your reflection in the mirror to cloud and blur. You knew, despite this, that you looked like a complete mess, stark naked with the man fully clothed and fucking her from behind,  like some whore he paid for. From the pleasure he gave you, however, you had no doubt you would've been the one paying him.

"Look at how beautiful you look, taking my cock so well." You did as he commanded, his grip tighter on your scalp, making your eyes sting and your vision to clear once tears slipped down your face. Namjoon looked at you with a heated, lustful gaze, panting through parted lips as he reached for your heat again, thumb firmly rubbing against your slippery clit despite your quick pace. His chest heaved from how breathless he was, thrusting back into you with each guttural moan the two of you let out. "C'mon, give me one more- cum for me."

You screwed your eyes shut, tossing your head back as you let out a mantra of his name, the cry one of pleasure as you see the constellations explode behind your eyelids. "Oh gods, oh gods, N-Namj-joon."

It was far more intense in comparison to the first, where you realized his fingers weren't nearly enough in comparison to this. You preferred this, the delicious burn of him first slipping inside of you and the deep groans that bounced off the marble walls. The unapologetic sounds that he let out were beyond melodious in that sense.

It wasn't far after your spiral downwards that you felt him spill inside of you, the hot seed burying deep inside of your womb. Thick ropes filled you up, and you could only stare Namjoon in the eye in the mirror, both of you panting and breathless as he let out a few last, sloppy thrusts inside of you, his sweaty chest pressed firmly against your back like a dog knotting with his mate. You slapped your hand against the mirror to stabilize yourself, knowing you'd easily give out from the shakiness of your legs. Your core felt sore already, but you stared at Namjoon in the reflection, looking at how wrecked he was, minutes before the wedding.

Once the last few drops were squeezed out, your heat sufficiently milking him for all he was worth, you turned around, throwing yourself back on him. He staggered back into the chair to catch you, your fervor passionate despite how fucked out you have slammed your lips against his once more, hands running over his hair and clothes, fixing them with what small spells expelled from your fingertips.

When you pulled back, he looked like a groom that was styled by the gods themselves, as no stylist could possibly attain this level of perfection and beauty. He looked like a true groom.

It was that reminder alone that made you burst into tears.

Mortals moved on with their lives. Even all those you helped and cursed, they moved on with their lives, adding meaning and purpose, continuing and adding onto their legacies through works and children. They each had their lives and intertwined with one another in such a beautiful way, and you would never experience the same thing. You'd be confined to a damned lamp for the rest of eternity, allowed to stretch for minutes at a time before being subjected to the same fate over and over again, as everyone you knew moved on and died.

And Namjoon would, too. Eventually, he'd move on, and his life would be more than just a lamp.

Your last moment with him could quite possibly be you on his lap, naked and filled with evidence from your throws of lovemaking, sobbing for what you'd never be able to experience with him.

-

The guests were seating themselves, the wedding close to commencing. Your bridesmaid's dress was itchy as you waited for the bride to arrive, and you stared at Namjoon at the altar, feeling your heartache. The crowd was bustling, all chatting amongst themselves, oblivious to what truly surrounded this marriage. From excited guests to brooding suitors, everyone was anxious for when the Princess was to step up to the altar and finally marry her betrothed.

You were surprised when you saw the face of a blond man, his face cheerful as he looked to you. "Excuse me- you're a bridesmaid, right?"

You're puzzled. He wasn't from here- or this world, for that matter. There was something off about him, and though you sensed he was mortal and human, you also couldn't help but sense a strange sense of otherworldly power from him- something not of this time.

"Yes, may I help you?" you questioned, raising a quizzical brow to him.

He grinned, brushing past you to his seat. You knew exactly what he had done- his fingers slipping into one of the pockets of your dress. However, there was nothing inside for him to steal, and it only dawned on you what had happened when you felt a small bit of weight inside. It appeared to be a small metallic stick.

"Sir- wha-"

"A pen," the man curtly replied, smiling. "It's said to be mightier than the sword."

You looked at him blankly, positively flabberghasted. You're about to search for him again, but once your eyes scan the crowd, he appears to be... gone. As though he vanished. You search for his presence through one of your senses, but to no avail. It would've been so distinct, so different, and yet he simply disappeared.

You heard gasps from behind you, and the other bridesmaids turned to look at the Princess.

She was an absolute vision.

Her hair, a river of night, was done half up and half down. The part that was up was done in an elaborate updo, filled with braids and knots. Her long hair flowed down her back along with her veil, and two pieces of hair hung at the sides of her face as though to frame it. The golden dress glittered against her dark skin, illuminating as though to further emphasize how she was the living embodiment of the Sun itself. The beads and design contrasted nicely with the ruby red sash she wore, draped against her arm, rich and plain in color in comparison to the elaborate dress. A golden band was worn around her forehead, a fat, glittering jewel placed right above her brow. Her wrists were bound with golden bracelets that glinted in the light with her every movement, and it reminded you of the invisible shackles you wore to your lamp. The cherry on top was her bouquet, where instead of flowers she held the jeweled fruits from the garden where Namjoon had found you.

Every breath was stolen, once all of the bridesmaids made their way to the altar, and the Princess was revealed. Yasmin was easily more beautiful than any other royal depicted in books, her arm linked in her father's, who was beaming proudly at her side, glad that his sole daughter was to be wed.

All eyes trained on her, deaf to her words despite how melodious and mellifluous her voice was. Her radiance was one that was all-consuming, soaking up the room in warm, comforting golden rays. No one heard her for her vows, or when both parties had their hands bound together through a velvet scarf. She was stunning.

"Prince Namjoon, of the Pagean Isles, do you take this bride to be your lovely wedded wife? Who you will love and cherish, in sickness and in health, until your dying day?"

Namjoon's voice was so emotionless, you would've thought it was his death sentence. "I do."

Your heart shattered despite the fact you had learned to let go of any form of hope long ago.

"Now, Princess Yasmin, of our very own kingdom, do you take this groom to be your lovely wedded husband? Who you will love and cherish, in sickness and in health, until your dying day?"

The Princess's mouth opened to answer, but before she was even given the chance to confirm the marriage, an audience member stood, rising to full height.

Prince Zandar rose, eyes ablaze and angry, staring with a heated glare at the altar. "On behalf of I, Prince Zandar, as well as the rest of my allies, fellow rejected suitors and heirs to the throne, we hereby forbid this wedding from continuing!"

A scream erupted throughout the room the moment the Prince, as well as his allies, revealed gleaming, silver swords and daggers.

-

Beware she who is something of a goddess Who crumbles nations and kingdoms The world in her palm To destroy with her wisdom But she should beware the thief To steal not gold nor art But instead to take what's most precious A monster's heart

Time seemed to stand still as guests left and right were being slaughtered. Screams tore throguh the air, and the guards could only rush forward in so much time. Within five seconds flat, the petty princes had dug their knives and daggers into the abdomens of innocents. You counted two bodies fall to the floor at one second, there the next, and so on and so forth. A guard's body had fallen at the fifth second, and then one of the princes', but many more were tumbling around them, the bodies piling up. You had witnessed many wars, but this was the first one you had seen take place at the altar. Love truly was a battlefield, so it seemed.

Despite how many years you had lived and how many lives you had seen lost,  it was hard to process immediately. Life being whisked away from the cold shells that mortals called their bodies- all taken away within the snap of one's fingers- it was mesmerizing.

You didn't snap out of your trance until the Sultan's head rolled at your feet, his blood pooling around the decapitated body, the rich color splattering upon your shoes and the bottom of your skirt. The shocked expression remained on his face, given no time to properly react, though you have no doubt he would've been killed instantly anyway.

It's at that moment that you snap into action, pushing Namjoon away to fall to the ground behind you, your arm launched in front of the Princess when one of the princes reaches up with a dagger, aiming for her heart. It slashed through your arm, and it dissolved into smoke, curling in whisps around the weapon as his hand completely passed throguh you. Before he could so much as comprehend the illusion at hand, you headbutted him, grabbing the dagger in his hand and kicking him in the chest, sending him flying back.

You turn back to the Princess, handing her the dagger. She would need it. Though you had no doubt she had no experience in defending herself- seeing as this society still had the belief that women were to have no place on the battlefield, you knew she'd have to have some form of last resort. She wasn't physically strong, though lean and muscular as she was, she wouldn't stand a chance against men who had trained all their lives. You were fortunate for your years of experience, some of which was spent with Amazonian women. The Princess was strong in mind and will- but she wouldn't be able to stay alive on her own.

"Aim for the neck," you suggested quickly, knowing that it would take far too long for anyone to bleed to death should they simply be stabbed in a vital organ. Best chance would be to get the heart, but the ribs would make it a bit more of a challenge than preferable. No, the jugular would be her best chance.

Turning, you see Namjoon fending off an attacker, a man on top of him, hands firmly throttling him as he was pinned against the floor. Your heart raced as you rushed towards him, running as fast as your feet could take you, hands hooking into the back of the collar of the assailant's shirt. You launched him against the opposite end of the room, his body flung against the wall, head cracking and neck snapping, dead in an instant as he fell forward, the blood and dent left on the wall from the action that only lasted a millisecond.

You spun towards Namjoon, seeing another attacker rush forward to take advantage of his situation as he sputtered for breath to stand. You launched yourself towards him, arms wrapped tightly around him as you hugged him as hard as you could, his body pressed against your own. The sword buried into your back and through your stomach, and you solidified to keep it inside of you, hissing at the burning sensation of the metal dug deep into your muscles, tearing into you.

Ignoring the droplets of tears that formed at the base of your eyes, you reached back, letting out a scream of agony as you dug out the sword. It was bloody and dirtied, but instead of wasting time examining the artifact, you slashed it before you, advancing on Namjoon's attacker. The man jumped back, his weapon stolen. He dodged your blade as it tore through the air, but your blood boiled with molten lava that was trapped below sea level, eyes fueled with fire straight from the hells that the gods had forged.

With a blow that would be impossible for a mere human to achieve, you split him down the middle, his body torn clean in half, as though mimicking a cartoon. The two halves split in a gruesome depiction, the organs, bones, and flesh on display.

At this point you had about five more men after you, clearly targetting you as a threat and perhaps a supernatural one at that. As careful and meticulous as you may be, you had no time to fret over your illusion being shattered before enemies- after all, they'd be dead before they knew it.

You stuck close to the altar, the Princess doing her best to fend off attackers, and Namjoon doing his best to attack the men who approached him.

"Namjoon, keep Yasmin safe, for this kingdom rests on the shoulders of your bound marriage! Flee, and make a wish, for at this moment there are no risks we can take," you say, arm swinging back to clash your blade against another's.

"No, I'm not leaving you! Not in a thousand lifetimes." Namjoon shouted immediately, daring to take the dagger from the Princess, keeping her behind him as he slashed it through the air, quickly disarming a perpetrator with a quick flick of the wrist.

"Make that a thousand and one," you grumbled below your breath.

You narrowed your eyes at him for his predictable human ways. Heroes were the biggest fools, time and time again proven. He may have experience in fighting from his time on the streets, but those involved battered fists and dashing about corners. Never had he spent a day on the battlefield, with experienced soldiers doing one on one practice to ensure a skilled warrior. He'd be dead within the millisecond.

Instead of humoring his selfless behavior, you grabbed the knife from him, letting the blade fly throguh the air as it slipped throguh your fingers, burying hilt-deep into the skull of a man whose sword was raised above his head, charging headfast towards you three. His body skidded before you, a smear of blood on the floor, and you grabbed the other sword, swinging both as you crossed them before your chest, in defense.

"Make the wish, Namjoon!" you shout back, feet flying quick as your hands move in a frenzy. If he would let you, you could use your magic to even rewind time, or eliminate every scorned suitor with a mere snap.

"No!"

You turned to glare at him, ducking down when you sensed someone launching themselves towards you. Their body flew above your own as they accidentally leaped to their doom, their body flying through the window and to a sorrowful, quick death. "Why must you mortals be so stubborn?"

It wasn't until your eyes landed on him that you realized he was crouching down in pain, his stomach bleeding, blood seeping through the silk linens of his expensive fabric. Princess Yasmin holds pressure down on the wound, the gash deep and painful from the looks of it. His face was held in a grimace, and you knew that the endorphins that had previously held him in place were beginning to fade away, the battle raging for too long.

It dawned on you that it was from the moment that one of the soldiers stabbed you with a sword, the blade protruding completely throguh you as you pressed your body against Namjoon's in an effort to protect him. It was only now you realized that the blade of the sword had reached so far through you that it buried into Namjoon as well, giving him a stab wound as deep as a dagger's.

"Namjoon!" you gasped in surprise, your eyes wide and apologetic.

Your swords clattered through the ground with quick jabs throguh your hands, knives buried at the hilt quickly only to be removed, and soon enough a thick arm was wrapped tightly around your neck, and the tip of a bloody blade was pressing against your temple.

Your breath hitched as you tried to vaporize yourself through the oppressor, but found yourself solidified firmly, unable to use your magic. Your eyes were wide, and you clawed at the arm wrapped around your neck, gasping for breath as the strength drained from you. You could feel the pain of the multiple wounds you endured, the pain seeping into you from the wounds in your hands to the massive gash in your center.

"I knew there was something off about you," Prince Zandar rasps in your ear, his lips pulled back in a sneer. "Both of you."

You could feel the burning heat of the gem in his breast pocket. Ah, an ancient spell must've been placed on it. Fools who were scared of free jinnis- ghuls, typically- would place enchantments to ward them off. Perhaps the young prince got one for this occasion, knowing it would go along with the suspicions that he had towards Namjoon's possible jinni. The fact you were showing a brute strength and brutality towards his allies- that must've confirmed his suspicions towards you and Namjoon within the second.

"Don't you dare move- I've got a charm in my pocket that prevents her from using magic. And if that's the case, who knows? I could possibly kill her," Zandar chuckles darkly. "But one thing's for sure- this'll hurt."

He digs the tip of the blade harder into your temple, and you cry out in agony, biting down on the flesh of his arm in an attempt to free yourself despite the fact you felt so weak and powerless. He didn't let up, though, letting the silver against your skull do its torture.

"This man is an imposter- he's been using this jinni girl in order to win your hand, Princess," Prince Zandar sneered.

"You think I don't already know that, you bumbling idiot? I've known this entire time!" Princess Yasmin shot back, glowering at the man.

In response, Prince Zandar's knife instead points towards your throat, the point digging into your chin as he threatened to bury the blade into your skull.

"Stop, goddammit, you-"

"Ah ah ah," Zandar said, his mouth pursed in delight at Namjoon's fury as Princess Yasmin tries to hold him back. He removes the weapon from your head, letting you have a sigh of relief. He reaches out, palm open. "Give me the lamp, peasant."

Your eyes widened, and you look up to Namjoon with frightened eyes. He stands firm, his muscles tight and eyes scorching with pure hatred towards Zandar. You shake your head frantically. "You fool! Namjoon, for the love of the gods and myself included, don't do it!"

"Shut up, you!" Zandar spits, his arm twisting tighter around your neck, making you gasp for breath despite your lack of lungs. "Is that any way to treat your future Master?"

Princess Yasmin looks to Namjoon with pleading eyes. "Prince Namjoon, you cannot! Think of the world at stake!"

Namjoon pays no attention to her, however, his eyes locked with you, seeing your cheeks bloom with a purplish hue. Spots begin to show in your vision, a black tunnel as you feel yourself fade from the lack of oxygen. Before, perhaps centuries or even a year or so ago, you would've welcomed death with open arms, greeting him with the embrace of an old friend.

But you didn't want to die. Not this way. You couldn't leave him behind. Perhaps it was the realization of this fact that Namjoon saw in your eyes.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Namjoon says, reaching for the lamp that was beneath his clothes, tightly strapped to him. He undoes his bindings, stepping towards Zandar's open hand, the dull, golden lamp firm in his grasp.

You want to scream at the top of your lungs, for what idiot would do this? You're unable to do much more than sputter, a deep gurgle emitting from your mouth. The lamp is but mere centimeters from Zandar's fingertips, and you were clinging to the edge of a most certain fate.

You reached deep into your pocket and squeezed your eyes shut, using none of your other senses, for you couldn't reach to them for help. Instead, you relied on pure instinct.

The oxygen slammed back into you at once as you crumpled to the floor, left gaping up towards Prince Zandar as he staggered back, a pen buried deep into his jugular, blood bubbling up to the surface, draining from him as the life drained from his eyes.

The lamp still hung loosely in Namjoon's fingertips, but the shock caused him to drop it as it tumbled down, only to be caught in royal hands.

"I wish this battle was over, our side being proclaimed as the victors!" Princess Yasmin declared, her hands grasping tightly onto the lamp.

The last thing you could remember before your vision tunneled out was the familiar feeling of magic filling you to the brim before seeping out throguh your pores to consume you.

-

Your eyes fluttered open to the vision of a battered and bruised Namjoon, his cheek swollen, and patches of bruises along his jaw and on his cheek. A few gashes and cuts here and there, but most importantly of all, a beaming smile.

"Hey there, sleeping beauty," Namjoon grinned down at you, his battered knuckles brushing against the soft skin of your cheek. "Did you have a nice nap?"

"How long have I been entranced in this slumber?" You couldn't recall the last time you even slept. It must've been during your mortal days.

"A few days. You deserved the rest, however, as any hero does," Namjoon says.

You reach up, your thumb brushing delicately over his busted lip. You frown. "Are you alright? I'm sorry I couldn't have protected you better."

"You saved us all from a horrible fate. I'm fine as long as you are," Namjoon says quietly. "You healed fast, however. Guess it's a jinni thing, huh? Along with being astonishingly beautiful."

It was true, you felt completely fine now, no doubt all of your wounds and cuts being completely healed and fixed. "What have I missed? Where's Princess Yasmin?"

"Queen Yasmin, now, actually," Namjoon corrects.

"Am I required to address you as Sultan, then?"

Namjoon chuckles at that. "I'm afraid Namjoon will have to do for now, but I'm open to pet names if you are to have any suggestions. Due to the death of the Sultan during the battle, Her Majesty had to be coronated quickly, wedding or no wedding. Seeing as she had no further use for the betrothal, and the fact that I'm madly in love with a jinni, she called off the engagement, but allowed me to reside here for the time being and as long as I deem fit before I feel compelled to return to the Pagean Isles. She does, however, that we do not speak ill of their hospitality."

You felt happy for her- she got her wish to be Queen and didn't have to marry someone she yearned not for in order to get the crown. She got her Happily Ever After and looking at the smile on Namjoon's face, you would've guessed he had as well.

"I have something for you," Namjoon says, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the small, golden lamp. "Her Majesty gave me it back immediately, seeing as she had all she could ever wish for, as do I. But you don't- therefore you shall be granted a wish."

"I believe that even if you bestow upon me my own lamp, I will still be unable to grant a wish upon thyself," you say. "Besides, if you are to keep the lamp off your person, without so much as a finger on it, I will be unable to properly manifest."

"As I am well aware, but that is not what I intend to do," Namjoon says, sighing happily as he stared at you adoringly. "I love you truly, Y/N. Forever and always, jinni or not. I am prepared to make my final wish."

"And what may that be, 'O Master? Your wish is my command."

"Slave of the Lamp, Jinni of Smoke, Silver of Tongue, my beloved Y/N," Namjoon said, grasping the lamp tightly, as though to force all of his own willpower into the wish. "I wish you to be free."

-

Rocking against the waves A fate most certainly unknown

A final wish To be bestowed

Course through blood Course through veins The feeling of life Finally obtained

Queen Yasmin was as regal as ever, the crown weighing heavily on her head. Robes of silk, and an entire kingdom to serve her as she'd serve it, a sole ruler who was already putting into process various systems that would benefit her people. The moment the two of you stepped into the throne room, however, she was overcome with joy, waving away the official at her side to graceful glide from her throne and into your arms. Her embrace was tight, lacking her usual form of reserve, but you didn't mistake the glistening tears in her eyes, glad to see you well and alive.

You remember vividly the surprise on Queen Yasmin's face when she first saw you in your true human form. Your face was still beautiful and your figure still stunning, but you were human. You were breathtaking in every sense, but instead of flawless skin and golden eyes, you were human. You no longer lived vicariously through other's wishes, instead having the very same life fill every inch of your soul.

Two sets of lungs, one beating heart, gallons of blood, and the feeling of life. Nothing was more beautiful.

Yasmin held you in her arms, admiring your form, a tear or two sliding down her cheek. She let go of you as your hand clasped around Namjoon's, and you looked upon her with an equal amount of admiration, knowing she'd make the best queen of them all, duping all of the ancestors before her.

"I will bestow upon you any wish you desire, old friends. Your wish is my command," Queen Yasmin winks, her inside joke earning a chuckle from the two of you.

"We wish to see the world," you say. "A wish of my own, personally. Grant us a ship to see the world as we see fit, as I desire to stretch my limbs and see the progress of the people I can finally call my own. In return, I'll pray to the gods to have the stars stare down as favorably upon you as I would."

"I need no rewards nor bargaining- I shall grant you the biggest ship and the best crew, and you shalt be designated as captain," Queen Yasmin smiles. "Soar to your heart's content, and know you'll have a home behind these walls. I have a feeling, however, that the next time I'll even hear from you will be in nations I've never heard of."

"We'll name an island or two after you, out of thankfulness," Namjoon promised. "It'll be the capital of the New Pagean Isles?"

"I have a feeling it'll be better than the original," Queen Yasmin laughed, her voice charming the room.

You couldn't help but grin from ear to ear at that, delighted in the sting of your cheeks from how much you've smiled since you became human again. You closed your eyes, envisioning being atop a ship, the sea air filling your lungs, and harsh, cold winds whipping your hair behind you as though it were also a flag or sail. The waves would rock and roll beneath your feet, but best of all you'd have strong arms around you the entire time, Namjoon's gaze as fascinated as your own as you travel around the world together.

As though sensing your daydreaming, Namjoon dips his head down, his arms tight around your middle as he kisses you tenderly.

"I can't wait to begin our adventure together," he whispers in your ear.

"That adventure, my love, is what I call life."

#namjoon #namjoon smut #smut #bts smut #bangtan smut #bts x reader #namjoon x reader #rm x reader #rm #rap monster #kim namjoon #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #namjoon scenarios #namjoon reactions #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts #bts rm #bts namjoon #bts rap monster #namjoon fanfic

[mentalillnesstest-blog1]

Knowing the Mental Health and Mental Condition

mental illness test

Mental illnesses have established itself as a major cause of death as well as disability. From 30 for you to 60 per cent of all affected individuals who consult doctors achieve this primarily for complaints on account of emotional disorders. Many rewarding persons continuously maintain some sort of chronically neurotic adjustment your. And most individuals have trivial emotional disturbances often definitely not recognized but of health significance.

mental illness test

In spite of all this, the person has a curious attitude when it comes to mental health. He confesses the importance of physical health, becomes aware of that not everyone that is up and about is in physical form well, and may even go in terms of to take some elementary steps against disease. If not accurately intelligent about physical well being, he is at least interested all of which will seek advice from physicians, quacks, or maybe advertisements.

But in regard to help his mental health his / her attitude until recently is strangely indifferent. If they thinks about it at all, he / she regards it as something really foreign to him, considerably as he might give driving attention to the antics of an foreign bandit. He issues his friends and contacts as in perfect mental wellbeing; when his attention will this subject by the "sudden" onset of a mental sickness in someone he is aware of, he is surprised and astonished.

If the affected person is a of his own family, he capabilities the disease to overwork, to think about finances, to physical disease, or to some other socially fair factor. If the affected person is simply an acquaintance, he is likely to think of heredity, alcohol, and syphilis as probable causes. Solely rarely does he aim to think intelligently as to why these tips happen or attempt to explain to him by reading as well as by consulting specialists inside field. This attitude feels particularly strange when one particular considers the horror of which mental illness is generally regarded as.

But even when one does indeed try to inform one's home, one meets with complications. In unguided reading, a single finds discrepancies and misunderstanding which may seem completely complicated.

Definite instructions for preventing mental illness cannot be presented but a general understanding of issues and processes involved generally helps enormously in the controlling of minor emotional distresses, the neglect of which is a vital factor in the development of graver ailments. Then in addition to the problem involving avoiding actual insanity, information about the mechanisms leading to mind disturbance is the best guarantee next to inefficiency, failure, and misery in life.

Few realize that typically the psychiatrist deals not only together with the actual insanity but with the many borderline conditions and maladjustment which are not ordinarily viewed as belonging in the category of intellectual Illnesses.

Types of Mental Diseases Among the mental disorders are usually conditions so grave in which even trained person realizes that the patient is ridiculous. These illnesses or désordre, however , usually go unknown until they are so far enhanced that treatment becomes terribly difficult. No severe psychological illness ever comes all of the sudden "out of the blue. micron The symptoms are present for months or even years but usually are covered as nervous breakdown, neurasthenia, or physical illnesses.

The second group comprises persons that happen to be not considered insane by all their associates but who provide various peculiar symptoms of any kind of degree of severity. Morbid doubts, compulsions, and obsessions, commonly diagnosed as psychoneuroses a number of modifying term, are particularly quality of this group. With these may also be placed chronic invalidism, when physical examination does not reveal an adequate basis to the symptoms presented.

The third set consists of individuals who are apparently neither of them mentally nor physically tired, but who fail to generate a socially adequate adjustment. Costly certain types of alcoholics, delinquents, vagrants, and persons connected with unusual sexual behavior. On this group we might include in addition those persons who, even though apparently making a good public adjustment, nevertheless are a good deal hampered by feelings associated with inadequacy, emotional instability, anxieties, and other personality disturbances which often interfere with efficiency and enjoyment.

Problem of children constitute a new fourth group It is now identified that difficulties of training, very poor habits, school problems, temperament tantrums, enuresis, and youth delinquencies are evidences regarding emotional disturbance which may be solved by proper investigation and also treatment.

Feeble mindedness is undoubtedly an incurable congenital deficiency along with a strong hereditary basis along with, as such has little connection with mental or emotional diseases. It is primarily a problem involving eugenics and sociology.

Perhaps such an incomplete listing of psychological problems forces us to distinguish that we can no longer regard emotional illness or insanity as being the only field for emotional investigation. Emotional disturbances in addition to personality problems, which may be believed to be lesser forms of mental health issues, constitute ever-present problems, in contact all of us.

Theory of Intellectual Illness From the scientific records at hand, we have no motive to conclude that heredity is often a major factor in the causing of mental illnesses. Even though this, heredity is commonly considered their most important cause. That belief is unfortunate, for any assumption that mental condition is caused by heredity brings about the conclusion that it cannot be stopped or cured.

To imagine a mental illness is definitely hereditary because it "runs in a very family" is erroneous, as it is impossible to separate the effects of setting, or so-called "social genetics, " from those of real heredity. By social inheritance is meant the transference connected with traits of character or perhaps types of behavior by hitting the ground with and imitation of those men and women with whom one day-to-day lives, while physical heredity indicates the transmission of properties or types of behavior over the reproductive cells.

One has merely to consider the abnormal environment which will exists in a family that has there is a mentally ill man, to realize the great possibility of a young child in such a family becoming in your head unbalanced, even though no innate factors are active in any respect. In order to establish the anatomical character of a disease just one must demonstrate that the sickness was not caused by environmental variables and that it follows accepted laws of inheritance. Neither of them of these requirements has been found in the case of most mental ailments.

Furthermore, it does not follow this, even if a hereditary issue Were present, the development of the ailment could not be avoided by the mau of environmental factors. Thus, we shall do well to turn each of our attention from the heredity idea of mental illness from what may be more profitable treatments.

Certain mental illnesses use a definite physical basis. For instance , the psychoses of typical paresis, arteriosclerosis, senility, harm, brain tumor, etc ., are generally due directly to destruction associated with brain tissue.

Furthermore, delinquency, hallucinations, fears, compulsions, or maybe other emotional disorders could possibly be due to disturbances in the performance of the glands of inner surface secretion; to infectious operations, the toxins of which bring about states of delirium; often the action of drugs; or to precise destruction of brain structure. Such conditions may, is to do, give rise to strange thinking as well as behavior. Their prevention and also cure are problems regarding physical health, just as are classified as the prevention and cure involving any other physical disease.

Conversely, ideas and emotional thought patterns are more often a product with the social environment than connected with physical disease. A man could let his hair raise to shoulder length mainly because his thinking has been crazed by the activity of the spirochete of syphilis in the lettre of his brain; as well as he may wear his locks long because he has been recently taught a religious belief whereby long hair is worn out as a symbol of the Christ like life. In the initially case, we, explain along with treat his unusual habits on a physical basis. Inside second, we explain the item in psychological and societal terms.

In the investigation in addition to treatment of the abnormal actions and thinking which represent the material of poor mind health, it is necessary both to examine those physical disturbances which could interfere with the complex performs of behavior and idea and to recognize those components in the environment which may interrupt these same functions. There is no authentic dichotomy or conflict during these approaches. In some cases physical disorder predominate, while in others intellectual and social situations usually are of major importance.

My partner and i firmly believe that the whole market is inter-connected. Our body, brain and spirit are severely rooted with each other. If if your sick, the mind cannot chill out or feel good. And if head is not relaxed, it will supply birth to stress and that will probably lead to chronic health problems.

Therefore , it is clear that as a way to posses a sound body have to have a calm and calm mind. Without a sound imagination we cannot expect all of our potential growth or progress.

[migleefulmoments]

"Fairies= anyone feeling different or told they can't be who they are, perhaps including the LGBT community? Hmm.. Close to his heart? What closer to his heart than the reality he's living?" Does Abby understand that Chris is gay? He was bullied all throughout his childhood for being gay and having a high pitched "girly" voice. He's always talked about feeling different and like he was an outsider in his hometown. I stg she's never listened to word Chris has ever said about himself and his life.

 OMG this submission and Abby’s comments.  Abby didn’t write the part you quoted- her friend did- but she did repost it and call it “brilliant”. She did add her comments to the end where she agreed with the general sentiment and some specific points .  

I didn’t enjoy ATOM. It’s a kids’ book so it doesn’t matter how I felt about it but I was flummoxed how Abby and co. can rave on and on about it. Chris isn’t subtle with his messages, he beats you on the head with it and I thought “how in the world can she not get the point of the story”. Then I read the submission and Abby’s point again while I responded and not only has she never listened to a world Chris has said, she didn’t read the same book that I read.  WTF? Her- and her friend’s- ideas are insane. Pure insane.  They are the vapid ideas of someone who used the book as confirmation bias rather than actually READ the book. The LGBTQ message of the story is blatant and not something you might not catch-it comes with spotlights flashing and blow horns blowing. The idea that it’s about Chris’s own personal adult love story is beyond asinine-what is beyond asinine? Is there even a word? I need a word beyond asinine.  

I added my comments in italics within parenthesis.     

*************************************************************************

Submission from a friend (I posted my brief thoughts at the end). Major spoilers below. Scroll past if you haven’t read and don’t want to know.

First off, just in the note to the readers, I knew this book was going to be full of some good stuff.

Obviously, all interpretations are my own, after my first read through.

“A tale of magic follows a group of young fairies as they fight for acceptance in an oppressive world where magic is outlawed and despised. This story is very close to my heart, and writing it was the most challenging and emotional process I’ve experienced as an author to date. …… I hope it encourages and comforts anyone who may be fighting their own battle for acceptance and equality.”

Fairies= anyone feeling different or told they can’t be who they are, perhaps including the LGBT community? Hmm.. Close to his heart? What closer to his heart than the reality he’s living? (Ya think? Duh. OF COURSE IT IS ABOUT LGBTQ COMMUNITY. If you aren’t SURE that it is about LGBTQ kids then you have no business commenting further).

“If we want to change the world’s opinion it must be encouraged, not forced– and nothing encourages people like a good spectacle.”

Hmm… a spectacle? Sounds familiar. You can’t force anyone to believe anything, but it can be encouraged by opening your eyes to a good spectacle, like say a wedding, and realizing that it just doesn’t make sense if you open your eyes. Nuff said. (Hmmmm...a spectacle? It isn’t about the “spectacle” getting the character’s attention and then acting, it’s about encouraging the world to see “fairies” in a positive light by creating a spectacle.) 

One of the books that Brystal comes across is by Daisy Peppernickel. I think that speaks for itself. It’s clearly known that Daisy is a certain someone’s nickname, especially used by the part of his fans that believe in Daisy. (This is so offensive- Chris would NEVER call his boyfriend a “Daisy” when he was “acting gay” like said fans do. Chris is fighting to normalize differences in society- he isn’t going to immortolize a nickname used as a label for when someone is “acting gay”.)

“.. each author’s cause of death was EXECUTED FOR CONSPIRACY AGAINS THE KINGDOM. … It was a graveyard for truth and an archive of people the Justices had silenced.”

Deleted tweets, accounts vanishing into thin air. This sounds a lot like the conspiracies against (str8) fandom. It’s no secret that people have been silenced. (Right, this is about Chris’s adult pain- not his childhood pain. That is exactly how I read it too (eye roll font). He’s telling 12 yo kids “Don’t worry about high school bullies, families rejecting you and kicking you out of your home before you are 18 and no sweat about conversion theory but LOOK OUT for deleted Tweets and conspiraries from your fandom. That is the hard stuff!)  “All the books in the secret room were written by people who felt and thought exactly like she did, by people who questioned information, who criticized social restrictions, who challenged the systems set in place, and who weren’t afraid to make their ideas known.”

Questioning information? Challenging the system? Not afraid to make their ideas known? Can’t think of anybody that might do that. (Riiiigggghhhhttttt Chris didn’t write a book about accepting everyone regardless of sexual orientation or other differences. Nope, he wrote a book about not believing PR, not accepting the truth and always questioning what celebs say. That’s relatable to kids, right?) 

“Personally, I think life is way to complicated for anyone’s life to be set in stone.”

Even though D seems to be in a death sentence, there’s way more to life and his fate is not set in stone. C believes in his man, and knows he can overcome this. (So more proof Chris ISN’T telling a story to kids about accepting themselves and that it gets better. Instead he’s telling about how his adult life is hard and his lover will be worth the wait no matter how hard it is).  

“Sometimes as  a survival method, fairies suppress their magic so deep within themselves that it becomes extremely difficult to reach it.”

This reminds me of D’s dudebro persona that he brings out. He’s suppressing himself so far that at times he’ll turn himself into a different caricature of himself. We all know Daisy is in there somewhere under the layers of D-bag. (Honestly that quote from the book is so obvious it’s baffling that someone would try to make it anything but what it is. How she can turn that into something specific about an adult’s behavior when the book is written for children is absurd-also notice she is using “Daisy” as a nickname for when he is “acting gay”. When they call Darren “a D-bag” I have to cackle, Darren is who he is and they don’t like him. If you think he’s a D-bag then what are you doing in this fandom? How can anyone over the age of 12 believe that the behavior they don’t like is a charade and the real him is “somewhere under the layers of D-bag” (and therefore rarely seen). Real life isn’t a fiction story and real people don’t act like fictious charaters from TV).  

“It’s very hard watching someone you love in so much pain.”

C watching the person he loves get knocked down over and over, he’s speaking directly from his own experience here. (Again, yes, Chris wrote a Children’s book about accepting yourself and it’s ok to be different but the real message is about being in his 20′s and in love and how hard it is for him to kept apart while ccDarren hides for fame).   

“Horence had the misfortune of falling in love with a witch. … Naturally, such a relationship was forbidden, so for over a decade, Horence and the witch carried on a secret affair. When Horence’s soldiers discovered the relationship, the men betrayed their commander. They burned Horence at the stake and forced the witch to watch it happen.”

Using LGBT to equal ‘magical’ (As I’ve found countless references I haven’t even put in here) D fell in love with someone magical (gay), and their relationship was forbidden and secret. Once their secret was out, the team made D pay for it and C had to watch it all go down with nothing that he could do. (Except throw all his angst into his books ;) ) (Ugh! ORrrrrrrrrrr the book is about how people who are different are outcast and even killed for their differences and in this case, with the book so obvously about LGBTQ kids, it is about being outcast, shunned, or even killed for not being straight).  

“We must pity the people who close to hate, Brystal. Their lives will never be as meaningful as those of the people who choose to love.”

The pathetic souls that do nothing but hate on C C and spread hate will never have as meaningful of a life as those that chose to love and support our boys. (Yes, Chris looked deep into his soul and the one message he wanted to share with children is how hard it is to be a CCer. Chris said “This story is very close to my heart, and writing it was the most challenging and emotional process I’ve experienced as an author to date. …… I hope it encourages and comforts anyone who may be fighting their own battle for acceptance and equality.”  He was so worried about all the straight, middle-age women in the cc fandom that he wrote an entire book about their pain. It isn’t at all a message to kids that says “You ARE special and people who refuse to see how special you are and love you for who you are will be the losers because they will live their life without loving you” nope, this is a story ccers persavering)   

“We all know how terrible keeping a secret can feel. Secrets are like parasites, the longer you keep them inside you, the more damage they cause.”

The longer D is force to stay closeted, the more damage it does to him (Nope, this isn’t about how hard it is for kids to pretend they are someone they aren’t. It’s about how hard it is for 32 yo, $3-millon house buyer Darren Criss to hide in the closet in exchange for fame and wealth. Fuck those kids in Russia).

“If we had had everything we wanted then, we might never have found what we needed now.”

This to me feels like C is actually a little bit thankful for the bumps in the road. He’s trying to look on the bright side. If things had always been easy for them, they might have taken it for granted. Everything they’ve been through has only made them stronger. If they can get through all of this shit alive, they can make it through absolutely anything. (I don’t have enough information to know what this is referring to, but I do know without a doubt that it isn’t about ccDarren and their ccbumpy road of cclove) 

“She dreamed the fairy was repeatedly knocked to the ground by a ferocious monster in a fur coat and snowflake crown.”

The ferocious monster in a fur coat? Makes me think of another monster that wears a fur coat. Shade.  (A monster in a fur coat with a snowflake crown? It’s a literal dream, not a symbolic one. OMG this entire post is so much more ridiculous than I rememered when I read it the first time. An evil villian in a big coat and crown is a common fairytale trope.  I also believe deep in my heart that Chris would never write “This story is very close to my heart, and writing it was the most challenging and emotional process I’ve experienced as an author to date. …… I hope it encourages and comforts anyone who may be fighting their own battle for acceptance and equality.” and then literally bully a real person -even if she was awful). 

“You can stop pretending, Brystal. I know you’re aware of much more than you’re letting on.”

C knows that we know. He’s not living under a rock. (Again, yes, Chris was so worried about the ccers he wrote an entire book to reassure you all.  He’s just pretending it’s about LGBTQ kids and acceptance). 

“I don’t know about you guys, but I refuse to sit back and let a frosty old witch take Madame Weatherberry away from us.”

Frosty old witch= Obviously M (obviously, blech) 

“Do you guys know what your love languages are? Mine is quality time. It used to be physical touch, but that wasn’t working very well, so I had to change it. People are so picky about personal space and–”

C cherishes any quality time that he gets to have with D, since it it’s not always available. (I can’t with this one...they are getting even more embarassing ) 

“Sometimes good people do bad things for the right reasons.”

I have this bookmarked, along with some other passages about the Snow Queen / Mrs. Weatherberry. I know that there’s /some/ significance around this, but I haven’t fully figured out exactly what all it symbolizes. I have a few ideas, but nothing really seems to line up completely to me. I’d love to hear your thoughts on it at some point! (How about it means that “sometimes good people do bad things” or “the end justifies the means”. The story is about a war with a bad witch and as a 14-yo heroine, this is something she would wrestle with. Not every single word is about acceptance, LGBTQ or even cc love.  Some of it is literally the words used to spin the fairytale. I can’t remmber where this was used but I presume it was when Brystol went to fight the Snow Queen).  

I think those are the big things that I’ve bookmarked. There’s so much more I could talk about, but I’m afraid it would start to not make any sense if I just started rambling, so I decided to go off of passages from the book and my thoughts on why I think they’re significant or tie into C C.

You can feel free to just keep this for yourself, or post it at a later date, or take pieces parts to post. Whatever you want!

***********************************

I know I’ve been really bad about posting on the book. I saved this submission because I thought it was brilliant and a lot of great insights.

My opinion on the Madame W/Horence/Ice Queen? C is Madame W/Ice Queen and D is Horence. I too thought frosty old queen at first referred to m. But once the twist was revealed I’m convinced it’s c and his dual personality like the twins. He is a Gemini as he likes to remind us. It’s his struggle between being happy with the love he was blessed with and his desire to destroy for the people that have so gravely hurt them. (So this isn’t a book where Chris gives his readers inspiration and hope for the future? The stories he tells about kids in Russia sharing their stories and their fear of being put to death is all a ruse so he could tell his own ADULT story of hardship? Doesn't his cclove nightmare prove that it doesn’t get better?)

This story is very close to my heart, and writing it was the most challenging and emotional process I’ve experienced as an author to date. …… I hope it encourages and comforts anyone who may be fighting their own battle for acceptance and equality.” 

The quote above to think about most. (Dear @ajw720, yes, because he grew up a bullied kid in a world that didn’t understand him. He was teased for being gay before he knew what the word meant. His voice was too high. He grew up in a town full of people who hate gay people. It’s really sad that you can’t see that Chris wrote a children’s story that is so obviously meant to give acceptance and support to scared, lonely kids from across the globe, many who live in places where being LGBTQ is illegal and punishable by death; many who are at risk for becoming homeless and losing their families if they tell their truth. It is a story that has NOTHING to do with romantic love. It’s written for children who are worried about more basic things like safety, shelter, and family support.  They haven’t progressed to romantic love yet. You believe that Chris felt it was important and appropriate to write a children’s story about the difficulty in his adult cclove affair? You think that Chris read letters from LGBTQ children all over the world and the ONE message he felt he should share is his own adult love affair? That the pain of his starcrossed adult love affair is a more important message than addressing the issues of basic safety for kids at risk of being homeless, beat up, jailed or even killed for being LGBTQ? You think that the lessons he’s learned in the last 10 years as a wealthy, white man in America in a committed relationship are more inspiring to children the world over than his growth and acceptance of who he was in high school and general ideas about acceptance and love? You think all those letters from kids in Russia made him worry about the cc fandom and your struggle? Only a straight woman with no ties to the LGBTQ community could ever envision such a scenario).  

Sometimes good people do bad things for the right reasons

That’s him talking about their Pr life and I’d guess directly addressing the fraud in NOLA. He’s believed in d and he wants us to believe in him too. (Yep, ccChris wanted to inspire kids the world over by talking about PR-because all kids can related to PR- and a wedding that doesn’t seem to bother him or have anything to do with him. ccChris is as shallow as his creator) 

#chris speaks through atom

#atom spoilers

#cc #ccer #cc fandom #crisscolfer #darren criss #Chris colfer #Chris speaks through ATOM #debunking cc nonsense #it's always about them