#‘the entertainer’ felt too. ominous. for her

[aquamarinebling]

references for a pjsk x isat au I’ve been working on, using the wxs kirapipi outfits (+ mizuki, bc how could I forget mizuki?!), wherein rui is the one looping endlessly! yahoo!

bonus: rui fishing :]

[hanniebaeee]

Feral Puppy

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: colleagues/friends to lovers, fluff, smut

Summary: Hyunjin has the hugest crush on you, and you've been trying to avoid any workplace drama. He's an idol after all. But what are you supposed to do when this feral puppy is totally invested in winning you over?

a/n: Sweaty Jinnie is a weakness 🤭🤭🤭

You sat at your desk, deep in work. The office was quiet this early in the morning, except for the rhythmic tapping of keys. You were so focused on your task that you barely noticed the group of boys passing by your little cubicle.

That is, until a soft thud caught your attention.

You glanced up, just in time to see a certain dark haired menace dropping a cupcake onto your desk - perfectly adorable with heart-shaped sprinkles, no less.

Hyunjin flashed you a wink that could make anyone melt. And you? You were trying so hard to not react. 

You could feel your heart skip a beat, and you sighed in exasperation, your cheeks heating up. Felix who was passing by gave you a wink. 

“Honestly, I don’t know if I should be flattered or embarrassed.” you muttered, and Felix snorted in response. 

"A little bit of both, I think." He said, picking off a sprinkle and popping it in his mouth.

You couldn’t help but laugh, because Hyunjin had been trying to get your attention for months. He was always sneaking little treats or flowers to your desk, or winking at you as you passed each other in the hallways.

It was adorable in the most frustratingly complicated way, especially since you were colleagues - technically- and it was strictly against the company policy. Especially since he was an idol and all that. 

But you still felt a rush of affection that made your heart ache. Hyunjin was too cute, and you hated that you had to keep it professional.

---

It was just a little after lunch that you had walked into the practice room to have a word with Chan. You've been bracing yourself for impact, because you know what a feral puppy he could be sometimes. 

The second you entered, naturally his head snapped around - he’d caught a whiff of your perfume. His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the way his whole body seemed to tense.

"Down, boy!" Changbin barked, grabbing Hyunjin by the collar just as he took an eager step forward.

But Hyunjin just growled, still looking at you with those wide, pleading eyes.

"I just need to see her face," he insisted, his voice a little too dramatic, and oh dear, lets just say it hit you just at the right spot.

Felix was leaning against the wall now, clearly entertained.

"Bro, her face is your phone wallpaper," he teased with a wink.

The comment made you blush harder than you ever had in front of these idiots. Your eyes darted to Chan, who was supposed to be the mature one here. And now the said mature one was desperately trying to stifle his laughter.

You gave him a glare and he just shrugged, like there was nothing he could do to stop this chaos.

“Chan, are you serious right now?!” You hissed and he cleared his throat trying to regain some seriousness. 

But before he could respond, Changbin was back at it, pulling Hyunjin back by the shoulder.

"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Down, puppy, down."

You couldn't help the little chuckle that left your lips.

God, you loved him. It was undeniable. But there was no way you could get involved with him, not with all the rules in place. You just had to keep pretending that his antics weren’t making your heart flutter in the most inappropriate of ways.

"You’re such a menace, you know that?" You muttered, shaking your head at Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin's eyes sparkled with mischief as he said, "If that means getting your attention, then I’ll gladly wear that title."

Your poor heart screamed at that, because honestly, you loved every minute of it.

And so did he.

A few days later, you found yourself staying late at the office, finishing up some urgent reports. You were surrounded by an ominous stillness, because you were the only one left working on your floor and it was getting a little creepy by the moment.

You sent your emails quickly, packed up in record speed and bolted out of your workspace. But as soon as you turned the corner, you walked straight into a wall of muscle.

You froze, heart skipping a beat as you looked up slowly. And seeing Hyunjin’s sweaty, disheveled face staring back at you, you let out a sigh of relief.

That didn't last long because this exactly was your biggest…undoing. Sweat soaked Hyunjin was a weakness you didn't even like to discuss with yourself. 

His shirt was soaked through, clinging to his body, and you could actually see the muscles in his chest through it. His damn hair fell messily around his face, and there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead, making him look like some kind of god sent from another realm.

His wide eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. You looked away quickly, absolutely embarrassed, but the damage was already done.

You could feel the string of control inside you stretching taut, ready to snap. 

Hyunjin watched you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Not aggressive. No, it’s playful - and so damn hot.

“Didn’t expect to run into you tonight,” he said, his voice husky. 

You forced yourself to look up at him, and for a second, you both just stared at each other. Your body was screaming for release, but your brain was holding on.

You couldn’t cross that line. Not when it could ruin everything.

"I…uh, didn’t mean to startle you," you managed, your voice trembling just a little too much for your liking.

His scent is intoxicating, a mix of sweat and his cologne. And pheromones or whatever. 

"Startled?" he teased, his lips curling into a smile. "You’re staring. Are you sure you didn’t come to see me?"

"I-I wasn’t staring," you stammered, but you couldn’t even look him in the eye. You were so aware of every inch of him right now - it was like the droplets of sweat trickling down his skin were begging for your attention. 

"You're not fooling anyone, you know," he murmured, his voice dipping lower, sending a wave of heat shooting straight to your core. "You’re trying not to break, but I think it’s too late for that."

“Hyunjin-”

"How long are you going to pretend you don’t want this?" he asked, his words heavy with desire, making your heart race faster. "I can’t be the only one who feels it."

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling, your resolve completely gone. You wanted him so badly, it hurt. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to fight it anymore.

Seeing that he has tormented you enough, Hyunjin pulled back just slightly, giving you a playful look that said, I’ll let you off the hook for now. 

"You’re so annoying," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

He just smiled, completely unfazed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Am I?"

The next few days were a nightmare. The lingering, burning tension that Hyunjin’s created between you two was literally frying your insides. And let's be real. Seeing him in all his sweat soaked glory, you were so unbearably turned on. 

Seeing you at the edge of your own self control, has unleashed something in him. He knows you were just as interested. That little moment? He was holding onto it. 

So you did the best thing - the only thing at this point - avoiding him. You asked Chan to meet at a conference room for a quick chat when it was necessary. Or you generally didn't venture towards the practice room. 

You’ve learned to keep your distance, at least a little. And you hoped that Hyunjin wouldn't notice. But Hyunjin was not having it. No. He was making it his personal goal to make sure nothing went unnoticed.

---

You were walking through the hallway, minding your business, trying to get to the elevator. You heard the footsteps behind you too late. You could swear you felt the heat of his presence before you even saw him.

Hyunjin, being the menace he was, barreled into you out of nowhere, pressing you up against the wall in a move that was so absolutely ridiculous that for a split second, you wondered if you were dreaming.

“What the hell, Hyunjin?!” you exclaimed, flailing as you try to regain your balance, your palms slapping against the cold wall.

You're heart raced and you glanced around feeling kind of dazed. But Hyunjin just stood there, smirking, totally unbothered.

“What?” he said innocently, his body still pressed against yours. “There’s not enough space to pass.”

“Are you serious?!” You flailed again, trying to step aside, but he just shifted his body to keep you pinned, making it impossible to escape. 

“Oh my God, Hyunjin, move!” You were flushed, not just from the physical contact, but from the audacity of it all. You didn’t even know if you were angry, embarrassed, or completely turned on. 

He looked down at you, his eyes glittering with something so mischievously feral.

“I know you don't mind, sweetheart,” he said, and you groaned internally. How did he keep doing this? The way he was so confident, so sure of himself. 

“Hyunjin, please.” You tried to get him to step back, but it’s like he’s glued to you.

“I didn't even do anything,”

Oh the nerve!

You tried to wiggle away, but his arms came up on either side of you, trapping you even further. You’re caught, pressed against the wall with nowhere to go, and his body is all around you.

“Let me go, Hyunjin,” you breathed, but it’s almost a plea now. “There are cameras everywhere!”

His grin widened as he watched you, and said, “Oh is there?”

You let out a soft growl of frustration, realizing you’ve lost all sense of control. Your grip on his shirt tightened, and Hyunjin bit his bottom lip seductively. Your were trembling in his arms. 

Maybe that was what he was aiming for, because he dropped his arms and took a step back. 

You quickly scrambled away, muttering curses under your breath as you speed-walked away. And Hyunjin watched you go, that mischievous smirk never leaving his face. 

“See you around, sweetheart,” he calls out after you.

Hyunjin has successfully invaded every corner of your mind that you had so meticulously disciplined against doing exactly that. 

The teasing. The tension. Oh the need - it's been eating you alive. You couldn’t focus at work. You couldn’t go anywhere without your heart hammering at the thought of him. 

You’ve tried to ignore it, tried to compartmentalize it, but the truth is - you were well past the point of no return.

And then, of course, it happens again.

It was another late night at the office - one you tried so hard to avoid, but here you were. You were discreet and quiet.

You thought you'd made it. That this time you’d escaped his clutches. But as you walked down the dimly lit hallway, your heart just started to race again.

Because of course, he was coming toward you from the other side. And he stopped in front of you, his hands stuffed into his pockets. 

"Are you trying to avoid me?" he asked, his voice so low and husky, you wanted to jump off a cliff.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head as you said, “Why would I do that?”

Your voice wavered worse than a leaf in a storm. 

“Just making sure you don’t get any ideas,” he whispered - his face was so close now that you can feel his breath on your lips.

You were so damn tempted to lean in just a little. You shouldn’t. You couldn't.

“You know, I’m waiting for you to crack, baby,” he murmured. “Just let go, you know you want to.”

Your heart raced and flipped and fluttered all at once, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. You tried to step back but obviously there's nowhere to go. But he followed, matching your every movement.

“Hyunjin,” you said his name so softly, a breathless sound that made his eyes flash with something darker, something predatory. “Please, just-”

But he was done playing nice. His hand came up to gently hold your chin, lifting your face so you couldn't look away and you were forced to meet his gaze.

“You think you can just keep running from me?” he breathed, stepping impossibly closer. “If you didn't want me, you would've said that by now. But you keep me hanging, and I'm just about done with that.”

And that was when you lost it.

Before you knew what you were doing, your hand came up to grip the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His lips crashed against yours, desperate, unrestrained. The kiss was hot, messy - all tongue and teeth.

And it was everything you’ve wanted.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you even closer. His body was hard and slick with sweat, and you could feel the heat radiating from every inch of him. 

His lips trailed down your neck, making you gasp as he kissed the sensitive skin just below your ear.

“Told you,” he whispered against your skin, his breath hot. “I knew you couldn’t keep pretending.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips  slightly swollen from the kiss. 

“I need to hear it, okay?” he said, his voice low and filled with promise. “Tell me you want this too.”

You looked at him, your breath coming in shallow pants. You were done pretending.

“No more running,” you whispered. “I want you too…”

And Hyunjin gave you a smile so radiant, you could die happily at the moment.

“Come on,” He said, taking your hand and pulling you away. “Let's go somewhere safe.”

A room next to their studio. Barely used. Kind of dusty. But it worked.

The minute you stepped in, his lips were on yours. He had you pressed up against the cold wall of the unused office, your bodies tangled together in an almost desperate need. Your hands tugged at his shirt, trying to get it off, and he didn’t even hesitate, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. 

His hands roamed over you, caressing, groping, pulling you closer as if he was starving for you. 

“God, I love you-” He growled, his hands sliding down to your hips, pulling you into him. The heat  radiating off his body and the feel of every muscle flex beneath his skin - you were blinded by it. 

His hands were sliding up your sides, tugging at your clothes, as if he was hungry to see every inch of you. You gasp when his fingertips grazed the skin of your waist, as he took off your shirt. 

"Hyunjin..." you whispered, breathless, the sound of his name escaping your lips like a prayer. 

"You’re so fucking beautiful," he growled, his lips finding their way down down chest. His fingers pulled down the cup of your bra, as he pressed soft kisses around the flesh. 

Your lips parted, but no words came out, just breathy gasps as his lips wrapped around your nipple. The soft scrape of his teeth on your skin made you shiver, and you couldn't stop the low moan that escaped from deep in your chest.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned against your skin, his breath hot, sending goosebumps across your body.

“Hyunjin,” you gasped, tugging him closer, your hands finding his waistband of his sweats. He groaned, clearly as desperate as you are, and his lips crashed back to yours. His tongue sweeped over yours, and you lost yourself in the kiss.

His hands moved down to your waist, his grip tightening as he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you felt how hard he was for you. 

He carried you effortlessly toward the desk in the corner of the room. Placing you on the edge of the desk, his hands trailed up your thighs as he leaned in to kiss you again. You couldn't stop the trembling in your body as you pulled him closer. 

Hyunjin’s hands move quickly, pulling off the rest of your clothes. His dark eyes take in your body, pupils blown wide with lust. 

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his hands sliding over the exposed skin of your tummy. 

“Hyunjin… now.” you said desperately, pulling at his pants again, and they're gone in a flash. 

When he finally stood completely bare before you, the sight of him sent a shock of heat straight through your body. He was so beautiful - every inch of him. 

His eyes never left yours as he positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your waist as he brought you closer to him. You felt his hard length pressed against you, and you whimpered softly at the thought of what’s about to happen.

“I need you,” you whispered, your hands running through his hair, pulling him in for another kiss. “Now.”

And with that, Hyunjin moved, spreading your legs and pushing into you slowly. You shivered as he filled you completely, stretching you out.

You gazed up at him, the beads of sweat (he was sweating again - again) trickling down the side of his face. 

“Oh my God,” You whined softly, closing your eyes, and he grinned, a chuckle escaping his lips. He began to move, slipping in and out of you with every thrust. Your hands gripped at the edges of the desk, trying to steady yourself as the pleasure built between you both.

You were so wet, and Hyunjin couldn't stop looking at where you two were connected, and with a frustrated sigh, he pulled out completely. 

You gasped and stared up at him, as he grabbed your legs and pulled you more to the edge and then, his face was in between your thighs. 

You almost shrieked - because that was absolutely unexpected. He wasn't wasting any time, his tongue lapping at your dripping folds and nudging your clit. Your hand landed on his hair, pulling at it gently and Hyunjin hummed - the vibrations of it making you drip even more.

“Hyun… Hyunjin!” You moaned, as he licked softly over your clit and nibbled on it gently making your breath catch. 

It didn't take long for your first orgasm to crash down over you, and when Hyunjin straightened, he had the most satisfied grin on his face. 

“You're so sweet, baby,” He cooed and you were sure your cheeks were at least two shades redder than before. “I couldn't resist it.”

You laughed, a tired one at that and he laughed with you before stepping in between your legs again. He ran his hands up and down your thighs and you watched, breathing heavily. 

“Can I?” He asked softly, and you nodded with a smile. 

It felt deliciously good when he slipped in this time, and the rhythm between you was slow at first -  tender - but it didn't take long for that to change. Hyunjin’s need took over, and he began to move faster and harder, his body crashing into yours with a force that left you breathless.

The sound of his body slapping against yours filled the room, and you couldn't stop the moans that escaped your lips. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you clung on to him tightly. 

He was everywhere - his hands, his lips, his body - and you were drowning in him.

You pull him closer, you lips kissing down his neck -  glistening with sweat - and you loved the way he moaned as you bit down right below his ear. 

You didn't know this was such a turn on for you until today. This man did things to you that even you didn't understand. And you didn't mind really. 

And you could feel that knot tightening in your belly again. Your eyes met, and you gripped him tightly, as his name escaped your lips in a breathless gasp. 

Your whole body shuddered as you hit your peak again, and Hyunjin kept moving, till you heard him groan and pull out quickly, spilling all over your tummy.

You were both left breathless, hearts racing, tangled together in a mess of sweat and your releases. For a moment, neither of you speak. 

Finally, Hyunjin gently cupped your face with his hand, his eyes softening. 

“I love you, Y/N. So damn much.” He whispered and you could swear you've never seen him being this serious. Ever. 

“I love you too, Jinnie,” You said, and your smile had him smiling. And the two of you were giggling and hugging each other tightly. 

“I told you I’d make you mine,” he mumbled against your neck, pressing a gentle kiss there.

“Yeah yeah,”

The next morning, you walked into the office, trying to act like everything was normal. But as soon as you stepped in, the atmosphere just felt different. 

You sat down at your desk, but before you could  even open your laptop, Changbin, Felix, and Chan came strolling into the office like they’ve been waiting for you. 

Oh they knew. 

“Morning, Y/N,” Changbin said, his tone way too casual. “Sleep well?”

You forced a smile, trying to stay calm, but inside you’re screaming. 

“Yeah, sure. Thanks for asking.” you managed to say, as you avoided making eye contact with him. 

“I’m sure you had a very eventful night, huh?” Felix was leaning against your desk now, his chin on his hand and a toothy grin in place. 

You dropped your head into your hands, already feeling the embarrassment creeping up. And then, you heard it. That sweet, chuckle which had you wanting to crawl under your desk and never come out. 

“Hyunjin,” you hissed, glaring at him as he strutted over to you, like a damn puppy who’s just been given a treat. 

And he looked so fucking proud of himself.

"Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, dropping that mandatory cupcake on your desk. 

You didn't hold back the sigh.

“Oh my God, Hyunjin,” you whined, burying your face in your hands in defeat. “Please.”

“What? You think they didn’t notice?” he asked innocently, pointing at the spot under his ear, where he sported a very evident hickey. 

Oh you wanted to die. Felix snickered, totally enjoying this. 

“And you’re glowing love, it looks good.” he said kindly. 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you groaned, pressing your fingers into your temples. “Could you not?”

“You know we should have a talk about office etiquette. But then again... if it was that good…” Chan added, raising his eyebrows, a smile tugging at his lips as he glanced between you and Hyunjin. 

“I’m going to murder all of you.” 

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ .༯ RUINED BY WAR ?! 🐋

𓂃 ࣪⋆˚ ༘ Paring : God of war Mydei x Goddess of Peace fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪⋆˚ ༘ Warnings : nsfw/smut, vaginal, c*m play, holding orgasm, semi-public s*x, hair pulling, cow-girl, multiple (three) rounds, dark content?, implied dubcon, size kink. mydei is a huge perv here. [GOD OF WAR SERIES] ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

𓂃 ࣪⋆˚ ༘ synopsis : In a world divided between war and peace, you, the Goddess of Peace, find yourself drawn to the one being who defies everything you stand for—Mydei, the ruthless God of War. His touch is rough, his presence overwhelming, and yet, when you're in his grasp, resistance crumbles like ruins beneath a battlefield. He should be your greatest enemy, but in the dark, when his hands claim you. And as he takes you, possessive, unrelenting, you realize that even peace was meant to surrender.

𓂃 ࣪⋆˚ ༘ note : very quick fic also not proof-read & lazy writing. also mydei calls u “mine”. I HAD THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR AGES, I was too scared to post it.

In a realm where war and peace existed in a fragile balance, you were revered as the Goddess of Peace, a beacon of serenity in a world rife with conflict. Yet, despite your divine status, you felt an undeniable pull toward the one being who represented everything you opposed—the ruthless God of War, Mydei. His very presence ignited a tempest within you, a clash of desires that threatened to unravel the peace you fought so hard to maintain.

Tonight, under the glow of the moonlight, you found yourself in the ruins of an ancient temple, the remnants of a battlefield surrounding you. Mydei awaited you there, a powerful figure shrouded in shadows. His golden armor gleamed ominously, framing his muscular physique. As you approached, your heart raced, anticipation flooding your senses.

It was a dangerous pull, an attraction you had no business entertaining—but that only made it more irresistible. You should have fought it, should have turned away, but the thrill of being hunted, of knowing you were just one misstep away from falling into his hands, set your pulse racing. Every time your paths crossed, the air crackled with tension, heavy with something unspoken yet undeniable. And when he finally caught you—fingers twisting into your hair, yanking you closer—resistance melted into something far sweeter than surrender.

“Look who graced me with her presence,” he purred, a wicked grin curling at the corners of his lips. “The Goddess of Peace, all alone. Have you come to plead for mercy, or perhaps to indulge in a more… thrilling escapade?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “I’m not here to beg, Mydei. You’re not the only one who enjoys a little chaos now and then.” Your tone was bratty, a challenge thrown at his feet, and you could see the flicker of excitement in his eyes.

“Oh, is that so?” His smirk widened, and he stepped closer, closing the distance between you. “Perhaps I should teach you a lesson about what happens when you provoke a god.”

Before you could respond, Mydei’s hands shot out, grasping your waist and pulling you against him. His touch was rough, igniting a fire within you. “You think you can handle what I have to offer?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, sending shivers down your spine.

“Maybe I can handle you better than you think,” you shot back, the bravado in your voice masking the thrill of—fear that coursed through you. You reveled in the challenge, knowing it only fueled his desire.

With a swift movement, he spun you around, pinning you against the cool stone wall of the temple. The sudden shift made your breath hitch, and you gasped as he captured your wrists above your head, his strength overwhelming. “You’re going to learn that I always get what I want,” he hissed, leaning closer to graze his lips against your neck.

His kisses sent electricity coursing through your body, and your heart raced with exhilaration and danger. “You don’t own me,” you protested, but the defiance in your words was half-hearted. The way his body pressed against yours, the heat radiating from him, made it hard to maintain your composure.

“Ah, but I do,” he replied, his grip tightening in your hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat. “You’ve always been drawn to danger, haven’t you? Let’s see how well you can handle this.”

With that, he pushed his hips against yours, and you could feel the hardness of his cock pressing against you, a promise of the raw pleasure that awaited. A thrill of excitement shot through you, and you bit your lip, suppressing a moan.

“Show me what you’ve got, War God,” you taunted, challenging him as you ground your hips against him. “I can take it.”

Mydei’s eyes darkened with lust, and he growled low in his throat. “You’re a brat,” he said, shaking his head with a hint of amusement. “I’ll enjoy breaking you.”

With a swift motion, he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he thrust into you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming—your moans echoed in the temple, mingling with the sounds of the night. “That’s it, Goddess. Let go,” he urged, his voice a gravelly whisper as he claimed you.

You felt every inch of him sliding deep inside, stretching you deliciously, and you gasped, arching your back against the stone. “More, Mydei,” you breathed, relishing the dominance he exerted over you. “I want all of you.”

“Such a greedy little thing,” he mused, his thrusts becoming harder, each one sending shockwaves through your body. His hands roamed your curves, fingers digging into your hips as he took control, but you wouldn’t let him have all the power. You arched your back, grinding against him, trying to take the lead.

“Do you really think you can handle this?” he challenged, thrusting deeper, making you gasp. “You’re just a sweet little Goddess, but I’m a god of war. You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Maybe I like danger,” you replied, your voice dripping with mischief. “Maybe I want to see how far you’ll go.”

He responded with a harsh thrust that had you gasping, your walls tightening around him as pleasure surged. “You’re going to regret this,” he warned, but you could see the glint of excitement in his eyes.

As he picked up the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, and you moaned louder, feeling the tension coiling in your core. “Please, don’t stop!” you begged, wanting him to push you to the edge, to shatter the peace you’d fought to uphold.

“Not yet,” he replied, his voice low and possessive. “I want to see you lose control. I want to see you begging for release.”

With each powerful thrust, he drove you closer to the brink, a mix of pleasure and pain coursing through your veins. His hands were everywhere, gripping your thighs, pulling your hair, leaving you breathless and wanting more. “You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then take me,” you urged, your body writhing against his as you chased your climax. “M—Make me yours.”

Mydei’s growl echoed through the temple, primal and raw, as he pushed you over the edge, sending you spiraling into ecstasy. “That’s it, come for me,” he commanded, and you obeyed, waves of pleasure crashing over you as your body convulsed around him.

As you rode the waves of your orgasm, your body trembling with the intensity, Mydei followed suit. With a deep groan, he filled you completely, his body pressed against yours as he marked you as his own. His grip on you tightened possessively, pulling you closer as he buried his cock deep inside of your pussy, claiming you with every thrust. “You belong to me,” he breathed, voice rough and filled with a dark, consuming passion. His hands moved with a newfound urgency, holding you in place as he drove deeper, making sure you felt every inch of him, every part of his claim over you.

Breathing heavily, you both collapsed against the wall, panting in the aftermath of your passion. You felt a rush of exhilaration and vulnerability, your heart racing in the wake of what you had just shared.

“Even the Goddess of Peace can’t resist the pull of chaos,” Mydei murmured, his hands gently stroking your hair. “Next time, I’ll make you beg even harder.”

You smirked, meeting his gaze with defiance. “Bring it on, War God. I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

As the moon hung high in the night sky, the aftermath of your first union left you breathless, your body still trembling from the pleasure that had consumed you. Mydei’s powerful frame pressed against you, his body still radiating heat, a constant reminder of how thoroughly he had claimed you. The feel of his cock still buried deep inside your pussy had you on the edge, each pulse sending waves of raw pleasure through you. Even as you caught your breath, the familiar stirrings of desire began to rise again, an undeniable heat igniting deep within your core, hungry for more of him.

“Do you think you can handle more, Goddess?” Mydei challenged, his voice a low growl as he caught your gaze, a wicked glint dancing in his eyes. “Because I’m far from done with you.”

You smirked, that familiar defiance bubbling to the surface. “I can take anything you throw at me, Mydei. Show me what you’ve got.”

With a swift, dominating motion, he grasped your waist again, lifting you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around him, craving the feel of him inside you once more. This time, there was no gentleness in his approach—he slammed you back against the wall, the stone cold and unforgiving, contrasting with the heat building between your bodies.

“Hold on tight,” he growled, the promise of what was to come sending shivers down your spine. Without warning, he plunged into you again, and the force of his thrusts sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your clit brushed against him with every powerful stroke, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you.

“Gods, you’re so tight,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunted, your voice dripping with challenge as you pushed back against him, desperate for more. You reveled in the way he filled you, stretching you beyond what you thought possible.

Mydei’s eyes darkened with lust, a primal hunger overtaking him. “You’re going to regret that,” he growled, picking up the pace, his thrusts becoming more ferocious. Each movement sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the temple as you both lost yourselves in the moment.

His hands gripped your thighs, roughly pushing them apart further, giving him deeper access. You could feel every inch of him, the head of his cock brushing against your sensitive walls, each movement drawing out moans from your lips. Your cheeks flushed a rosy pink, your doe eyes wide with need and submission, gazing up at him as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. Every thrust sent another wave of pleasure coursing through you, your body trembling beneath him, unable to escape the depths of desire he had awakened inside you.

“Do you like that, Goddess?” he asked, a smirk on his lips. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“More, Mydei! I need more!” you gasped, the pleasure building with each savage thrust, your body responding eagerly to his dominance. You could feel your clit pulsing, desperate for attention, a constant throb that only intensified with every motion. You began to roll your hips against him, grinding harder, seeking that sweet friction that would push you over the edge again. Your breath came in ragged gasps, eyes wild with need as you begged for more, willing to do anything to feel that release tearing through you once again.

“Such a needy little thing,” he teased, pulling back slightly before slamming into you again, harder this time. The impact made your body quiver, a rush of pleasure flooding you as he found that sweet spot deep inside. “You want to come again, don’t you?”

“Y—Yes! Please!” you cried out, feeling your body tighten around him. You wanted everything he had to offer, wanted to feel him claim you again. “D—Don’t stop! Just like that!”

Mydei's grip on your thighs tightened as he plunged into you, the sound of your bodies joining filling the air. The sheer intensity of his thrusts left you breathless, the way he filled you was a perfect blend of pleasure and pain. He was relentless, driving you higher, pushing you toward that precipice once more.

“God, you’re beautiful when you’re desperate,” he growled, his eyes locked on your bouncing tits, your body reacting to every thrust. “I could watch you like this forever.”

You felt yourself getting closer, the coil of pleasure tightening with each stroke. “I’m so close, M—Mydei! Please!”

He responded with a fierce thrust, the sensation sending you spiraling. “Come for me, Goddess. Let me see you lose control.”

With a cry of ecstasy, you surrendered completely, the pleasure crashing over you in a tidal wave. Your body quaked around him as your orgasm surged through every nerve, the sound of your moans echoing in the temple as you clung to him, desperate for release.

Mydei followed you, the sight of your climax pushing him over the edge as he filled you again, his cock throbbing inside you, warmth flooding you completely. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re mine.”

As you both came down from the high, gasping for breath, Mydei still held you tightly against him, his cock softening but still buried deep inside you. The warmth and closeness made you feel alive, electric, a mix of dominance and vulnerability swirling around you.

“Round two, and you still managed to surprise me,” he said, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “But I’m not done yet. You wanted chaos, and I’m going to give it to you.”

Your heart raced at the promise in his words, knowing this night was far from over. You couldn’t wait to see just how deep he could take you, and you were more than ready to surrender to it.

The air was thick with the remnants of your shared ecstasy, your bodies still entwined as you caught your breath. The moonlight poured in through the crumbling stones of the ancient temple, illuminating the raw hunger in Mydei's eyes. He wasn’t done with you yet, and the thought sent a fresh thrill of anticipation through your veins.

“You still think you can handle me?” he asked, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he pulled back, his cock slipping from your warmth. The absence of him left you aching, a void that yearned to be filled again.

“Please, Mydei. I can take whatever you have for me,” you replied, your voice sultry and teasing, the bratty edge returning. You could feel the power shift in the air, the tension palpable as you dared him to push your limits.

“Good,” he growled, grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up, your back pressed against the cool stone. “Because I’m going to make you beg for it this time.”

He positioned you so that your legs were wrapped around his waist, and with one swift motion, he plunged back inside, filling you to the hilt. You gasped, the sensation igniting your senses all over again. “That’s it, Goddess,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “You’re going to take every inch of me.”

“Fuck, Mydei!” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders as he began to thrust. Each movement was deliberate, powerful, designed to push you to the edge of pleasure and back. He was relentless, driving deeper, his cock brushing against all the right spots, coaxing you closer and closer to bliss.

“Tell me how much you want it,” he commanded, his breath hot against your skin. “Beg for it.”

“I—I want it so bad,” you panted, urgency lacing your words. “I need you, God of war. Please, don’t hold back. I want to feel you everywhere.”

The title sent a spark of approval through his gaze, and he responded by increasing the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the temple. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, each thrust punctuated with the weight of his dominance. “You’re going to be mine tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mydei! I’m yours! Use me!” you cried, your body arching against him, craving more of his raw, possessive energy. You felt that familiar pressure building in your core, the sweet, impending release beckoning you.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Now let’s see how well you can take it.” With renewed vigor, he thrust into you harder, pushing you against the stone, every thrust sending shocks of pleasure coursing through you.

“Please, let me come!” you begged, your body quivering with need. “I want to feel you fill me!”

“Not yet,” he growled, his grip tightening on your thighs as he shifted his angle, hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. “I want to see you desperate for it. I want to see you beg for my cum.”

You could feel the tension in your body reaching its peak, the heat pooling in your core, and you desperately sought that release. “Please, Mydei! I need your cum! I want it inside me!”

“Such a needy little goddess,” he teased, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “Fine, but only if you can take it.”

With that, he thrust harder, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The pleasure built like a raging storm, and you could barely hold on, your body begging for the release you craved.

“Now, come for me!” Mydei commanded, his voice dark and demanding, sending a shiver down your spine. With one final, brutal thrust, he drove deep inside you, pushing you over the edge. Your body erupted in a tidal wave of pleasure, the intense sensation crashing over you like a wave, drowning you in pure ecstasy. Your pussy clenched around him, your back arching as your orgasm tore through you, shaking you to your core. You cried out, gasping for air, completely consumed by the pleasure he had given you, unable to stop the flood of sensations that flooded your body.

“Fuck! Yes!” you screamed, the pleasure washing over you as you felt his warmth spill inside you, filling you completely.

“Good girl,” he groaned, his thrusts slowing as he filled you, claiming you entirely. The sensations mingled—his heat, the remnants of your orgasm, and the thrill of being utterly at his mercy.

You both collapsed against the stone, panting for breath, bodies entwined as the moonlight wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

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[lucysarah-c]

Mounting Spring Ch. 1.

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21. Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.) Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it. From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another.

MASTERLIST TO ALL THE OTHER PARTS.

Link to AO3 in case you prefer to read it there.

The papers were passed around the Military board members, each set handed off in tense silence. The room’s air had cooled quickly as the sun dipped below the horizon, making Levi’s coat, almost too heavy to bear earlier, feel suddenly necessary. The chill seeped through the old walls, hinting that a bit of heating might soon be in order. 

With methodical precision, Levi slammed the stack of reports against the wooden table to align them perfectly, every edge sharp and in place. He moved aside the sticky notes he’d scribbled on hours before, crossing off the last item on his to-do list with finality. Job done for the day— 

“Well, that’s it,” he muttered, eager to leave the stale room behind. 

A pointed clearing of someone’s throat halted him, making him glance up slowly. Levi’s senses flared; he wasn’t done after all. The tension thickened, and the air shifted to something more ominous. His gaze travelled around the table, landing on each board member’s face. Some looked uncomfortable, others entertained, as if they’d been anticipating this moment. Hange, seated beside him despite their role as Commander now, avoided his eye, their head lowered in apparent resignation. Recent meetings had seen the appearance of new, vaguely unsettling faces, like Kiyomi's, who now looked across the table with a subtle smile. 

“Captain,” Zackly’s voice rasped as he cleared his throat yet again. 

“The day’s agenda is finished,” Levi stated, irritation biting at his words. The official telegram had detailed the topics to be discussed, all of which they’d already addressed. Anything beyond that, he knew, was meant to be cleared with the entire board beforehand. 

“This was a last-minute matter,” a Military Police officer interjected, though the smirk twitching at his lips betrayed more amusement than urgency. 

“Captain,” Zackly called again, knitting his fingers together. “You know we’ve always valued your dedication to Paradis.” 

The pause was rehearsed, the words strangely formal, making Levi’s eyes narrow. “What the hell is going on?” cutting through the man’s attempt at civility. 

“Let the Commander finish,” Kiyomi insisted, her voice smooth and elegant, though tinged with a superiority that grated on him. 

“We wouldn’t have managed to retake Wall Maria without your bravery—” 

“A lot of people sacrificed themselves for that,” Levi replied sharply, cutting off the praise that felt, at best, patronizing. “Including the previous Commander, Erwin. No need to thank me.” 

“Nevertheless,” Zackly forged on, tiring of the interruptions, “without your skill, all those sacrifices might have been in vain. Not only did you dare to fight for Eren’s retrieval from the Female Titan and against the former tyrannical regime, but—” 

“It wasn’t just me. My squad and the brat over there were in it too.” 

The tone of the conversation was growing increasingly uneasy, the excessive praise no longer just annoying him but setting off alarms. 

“Quite right. You and Mikasa were essential in humanity’s progress,” Kiyomi added, eyeing Levi with a calculating gaze. As her look shifted back to Zackly, Levi’s own attention followed. 

“What we mean to say is… even if Paradis positions itself favourably in the new world, more capable individuals like you and Mikasa would be ideal assets for our success.” Zackly straightened in his chair, clearing his throat for the third time, making Levi wonder if the man needed water—or to finally give up smoking like a chimney. “Have you ever considered marriage, Captain?” 

The question hit him like a bucket of ice water. It was so absurd Levi could only scoff. “What?” 

“How old are you now?” Zackly continued, feigning casual curiosity. “Thirty-three? Thirty-four? A prime age, I’m sure. And for a high-breed alpha like you—” 

Behind him, low chuckles began to echo from the MPs, each one making Levi’s grip on the chair’s arm tighten. 

‘This is a trap.’ 

“Whatever it is you’re implying, I I suggest you rethink it,” Levi spat, the weight of their words starting to settle. 

“Let’s be frank,” Kiyomi leaned forward, hands placed firmly on the table. “Captain, we once thought the Ackermans extinct, only to discover Paradis has not one but two. Even Zeke couldn’t deny that meeting you at Shiganshina was... less than pleasant.” 

“Of course,” Levi replied dryly. “I beat that monkey’s ass.” 

“Exactly.” The dark-haired woman showed no amusement, her voice all business. “To the point, then: we intend to provide you with a suitable wife to ensure that you bless this island with as many Ackermans as she’s capable of bearing.” 

Levi shot to his feet. “You must be out of your damned mind if you think I’d agree to this. I’m not here to be used as a breeding tool.” 

“Oh, but you wouldn’t be the one doing the birthing,” an MP remarked with a smirk as the rest of the board broke their facades, amusement flashing in their eyes. All but Hange, who looked as if they might vanish into their seat. 

“You’re insane,” Levi snarled, preparing to leave, feeling insulted to his core. “You can use Historia as your political pawn as much as you want, but I’m not some 17-year-old girl at your disposal—” 

“Think of it as a service to your country,” Zackly replied coolly. 

“I serve this island every damned day,” Levi snapped, baring his teeth. With a sharp slap, he pressed his papers against the table and strode toward the door, signaling his utter rejection of the idea. 

“If you won’t consider it…” Kiyomi's calm, piercing voice halted him at the door, the threat clear. “Then we’ll turn to the only other Ackerman left.” 

Levi stilled, staring at the golden knob in his hand, fury boiling in his veins. He wasn’t about to fall for this. 

“Mikasa is too valuable to be reduced to a broodmare.” 

“She’s a girl of duty,” Kiyomi replied, a note of satisfaction in her voice. “Something you seem to lack. And she’s an alpha. I’m certain she could bear at least one healthy child before returning to the battlefield.” 

Levi clicked his tongue, pushing open the door with disdain. ‘Who the hell do they think I am?’ Hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat, he stormed down the royal city’s military headquarters hallways, curses slipping from his lips. The whole idea was absurd; they’d lost their minds if they thought he’d even consider it. 

As Levi stormed down the dim corridor, every step sharp and swift, he couldn’t shake the rancor rising within him. The brazenness of it all, to drag him into their twisted ambitions with such flippant disregard for his will—and then to threaten Mikasa. The audacity alone made his fists clench. 

He barely noticed Hange keeping pace with him until their arm was outstretched, catching him by the shoulder. 

“Levi,” Hange began softly. Their usual spark was subdued, gaze serious, and voice almost apologetic. “I know you’re furious. I knew this would be hell to hear, but I didn’t know how else to—” 

“Save it.” Levi shrugged their hand off, glowering. “You knew, didn’t you? That they were going to bring this shit up?” 

Hange hissed, as if asking them to confessed was almost painful. “Yes… I knew.” 

Levi gritted his teeth, eyes dark with betrayal. “You agreed to this?” Both of them whispering on the empty cold halls of the building.  

“I… didn’t agree,” Hange answered carefully. “But I was there when the discussion happened. Look, Zackly and the others—” Hange hesitated, running a hand through their hair. “They’re dead set on this idea. They think they’re planning for a stronger Paradis, and if they think that means Ackerman bloodlines—” 

“Save the speech.” Levi’s tone was sharp. “They can be dead set on whatever they please, but I'd like to see them drag the entire MP battalion if they want to force me into this.” 

The past year had hardly been easy on either of them, especially Hange with their new title as Commander. Levi was well aware of this—yet the sense of betrayal cut deep. “For fuck’s sake, Hange, you could’ve warned me.” 

A tense silence hung between them, until Hange finally sighed and adjusted their glasses, pressing on the bridge of their nose. “You think I had a say in this? Kiyomi's paying for the entire coastal expansion and the railway. She thought it was a decent idea, and with her money backing it, she’s got the final word on everything.” 

Levi clicked his tongue, crossing his arms in exasperation. “Those bastards in the upper ranks are just itching to get on my last nerve since we changed the policies.” 

“Look, I know it sounds—insane. But maybe… if we don’t try to protect the future of the island, there won’t be one. And if there’s a way to keep the Ackerman bloodline alive, maybe there’s value in that…” 

“Don’t give me that bloodline nonsense.” Levi’s tone was ice-cold, his gaze sharp. “This is some harebrained scheme they’ve cooked up. And let me guess: it reeks of Zeke. That bearded bastard’s across the ocean, and he’s still screwing with my life.” 

Hange pressed their lips together, saying nothing. The silence was confirmation enough. 

“That son of a bitch,” Levi cursed under his breath. “He’s the one with royal blood, not me.” 

Hange’s lips twitched in something close to sympathy. 

“Well, since you two are such good friends these days, feel free to let him know he can kiss my ass.” 

“Levi…” Hange sighed, not because they disagreed but because Levi’s sense of betrayal cut both ways. They were the last two left of the original veterans—family in all but name. It wasn’t just an argument; it felt like a wound between them. 

Convincing Levi? Impossible. But convincing her? That possibility hung in the air, lingering like a storm on the horizon. Levi paced with conviction at first, then with dread. They both knew it, and, worse, Zeke likely knew it too. Mikasa had just turned seventeen, still almost a child, recently visited by someone claiming kinship with her clan. Levi couldn’t care less about all the ancestral politics, but he was all too aware of how they worked. 

“You can choose whoever you wish for the father,” they had told her, as if it was some generous offer. And, step by step, he watched Mikasa’s face transform from disgust to something akin to acceptance. Perhaps it was because she, too, held a certain pedigree; perhaps she felt duty-bound. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care what methods they used to sway her. 

‘She’s smarter than that,’ he tried to tell himself. 

But then he overheard Historia, almost childishly enthusiastic, whispering to Mikasa, “See? I told you—we’re girls with responsibilities.” The blood drained from his face. If they’d managed to convince Historia, to make her some kind of pawn in their twisted ambitions, what was stopping them from pulling Mikasa down the same path? 

‘It’s disgusting,’ he thought bitterly. ‘Maybe this is how those classist bastards operate. They talk little girls into this like they’re just trading dolls for something more ‘exciting.’’ 

That night, back in his office, Levi was a restless storm, pacing the room with his suit jacket hanging loose, fingers curled around his glass of whiskey, his movements sharp and frustrated. The glow of his cigarette flared in the dark room as he took a deep drag, gritting his teeth. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

Slouched in his chair, forearm draped over his eyes, his mind circled back to Mikasa’s hesitant, almost innocent blush—her teenage imagination painting a faint, rosy tint over whatever twisted future she thought she might face. And in his mind, as if staring him down, were Eren’s haunted eyes, that deadened look of someone who already knew more than he could say. Maybe the brat already knew Levi wouldn’t let it happen. 

“She’s a damn kid,” he muttered. The thought of Mikasa shouldering this burden felt like a betrayal of his own values. 

Though technically, she was not much younger than many girls who’d borne children before. But this felt different, disturbing— He let out a humourless chuckle, as a man that waits for getting hang. “Those bastards knew… I wouldn’t let them ruin her life like that.” 

And like a cursed prophecy that tightened its grip the more one tried to escape it, Levi found himself back in that same damned office, slouched in his chair as if seated at a poker table. Bargaining his future. 

Levi sat stiffly across from the military board, his expression a blend of frustration and disgust as they spoke. Zackly lounged in his chair, lazily smoking as the other officials presented folders adorned with detailed painted portraits, lists of family properties, and who knows what else. As they laid the offers on the table, a random thought clouded Levi’s mind: It feels like searching for a button that matches at the notions store. 

He was reminded of long strips of fabric with various buttons sewn onto them, each one a potential fit. “Many of the noble families are eager to show their loyalty to the new government,” one officer stated with a practiced calmness. “Some have offered up alliances in exchange for the return of their territories and titles. This includes a number of unclaimed young omegas. You’ll have ample choices.” 

Levi’s jaw clenched. He knew they expected him to appear grateful for the options lined up before him, as if he were selecting a new weapon. Instead, he leaned back, crossing his arms tightly. “I’ll be imposing some conditions.” 

They paused, exchanging glances. “Naturally, Captain,” one of the men replied, steepling his fingers. 

“No fancy bullshit,” Levi declared. “The wedding will be plain. Just a civil ceremony. I have no intention of making a spectacle out of this.” 

The room fell silent, the officers exchanging looks that spoke volumes. One of them cleared his throat, hesitating before responding. “Captain, you should consider—” 

“I’m not considering anything,” Levi interrupted, his tone sharper than before. “This is a plain arrangement, and it will remain exactly that. I don’t need fanfare or ceremonies—just a quiet signing of papers.” 

The officers shifted uncomfortably, their discomfort palpable as they struggled to reconcile Levi’s cold practicality with their expectations. “Think of the girl. Many young omegas dream of their wedding day, waiting for it their whole lives. It’s—” a female alpha soldier attempted to be the voice of reason, but Levi was clearly listening to none of it. 

“No buts,” Levi said, his patience wearing thin. “If I���m going to go through with this ridiculous arrangement, it will be on my terms. I’m not dragging this girl through some overblown ceremony when neither of us wants to be there.” 

With a loud sigh, Levi lifted himself slightly from his seat to grab the portfolios. He barely looked at them, frowning deeply. “Don’t you have pictures where they look— I don’t know—human?” he spat out sarcastically, noting how overly produced their painted portraits appeared. 

“That’s what’s in fashion,” one officer muttered defensively. 

Groaning in disinterest, Levi rolled his eyes. “Nobles and their weird tastes.” But as he turned the next page to examine the descriptions, it was as if the world had tilted off its axis. “Sixteen,” he muttered, irritation creeping into his voice. He looked up, venom lacing his words. “You’re offering me sixteen-year-old girls? Girls who could be my damn daughters?” 

“It’s common, you know—” 

“I don’t care what’s common. Twenty-five,” Levi interjected. “At least twenty-five. I’m not getting tied to a child.” 

“Come on,” an exhausted soldier exclaimed, “some are seventeen, eighteen—” 

“Twenty-five,” Levi snapped, his eyes blazing. “I’m not interested in any of this unless you bring me someone who isn’t still in their childhood.” 

“Be realistic,” Zackly finally spoke up, looking weary and disinterested. “How many omegas do you know that aren’t claimed by twenty-five?” 

“Fuck if I know; that’s your job to find out, not mine.” Levi’s anger flared, echoing in the sterile room. “Weren’t you the one telling me to think of the girl? Don’t you think of her?” 

“Why? Are you planning on hurting her?” Zackly questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“Fuck no.” 

“Then I’m not concerned. Choose one and stop being a pain in the ass.” 

It was clear they were not going to reach any middle ground like this. Amid the hastily scribbled notes, he noticed a name: Y/N, age twenty-one. He pointed decisively at the line, cutting through the cacophony of voices. “That one.” 

There was no picture, no description—nothing. Perhaps it should have raised suspicions, but Levi was too tired for this cheap drama. 

“Why her?” one member scoffed, glancing at the paper. “We have better offers on the table.” 

Levi didn’t hesitate. “She’s the oldest.” He placed both hands on the table, pushing himself upward. He had made up his mind the night before; he just needed this to be over. Striding toward the door, he exited without allowing anyone to stop him. As he walked out of the conference room, he could hear the murmurs behind him. 

As the door shut firmly, one of the cadets held the papers against his chest, confusion written all over his face. Slowly, he turned to the higher-ranking officer. “Shouldn’t we tell him that she’s scheduled to marry this weekend to her childhood fiancé?” 

Zackly chuckled, flicking the ashes from his cigarette into the ashtray. Between coughs, he said, “Oh well, he can find out from her once they’re both married. It’s no longer my problem.” 

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[leahrintarou]

✩₊˚.⋆ THREE MINUTES ! - rindou haitani / 10.08 / kinktober

CW: public "sex", fingering, teasing, they're best friends, female anatomy, she/her used, one-sided pleasure, that's all lol

Word Count: 1.7k

Author's Note: welcome to the fifth post of my kinktober series! i hope you enjoy. leave a like or reblog to show support. (updates this week might be off or posted on a diff day since i'll be traveling somewhere with family. if not posted on the designated day, it will be posted eventually when i get back home.)

it took a lot of pleading, a lot of pouting, and quite a bit of persuasion for y/n to finally get rindou to agree to see a horror movie with her. he’d been reluctant, as always, keeping his usual stoic expression as she begged, a faint sigh escaping him after she tugged at his sleeve one too many times.

“alright, fine,” he finally said, rolling his eyes with a small, barely-there smile. “but you’re paying for the popcorn.”

y/n’s face lit up instantly, and she practically bounced in excitement. “deal! you won’t regret it, i promise!”

now, sitting side by side in the dim theater, rindou was starting to question his decision. as soon as the movie began, he leaned back in his seat, trying to relax as the ominous music set the tone. y/n was fully immersed, her eyes wide as she clutched his arm during each jump scare, gasping and gripping his hand tighter with every loud noise and flickering shadow on the screen.

rindou, on the other hand, sat unbothered, his expression unfazed by the attempts to frighten him. he shot her a sidelong glance, noting the way she reacted to the tension, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. she was so easily scared, and he found it endearing, though he’d never say so.

about halfway through, he noticed something different. y/n’s grip had loosened, and her eyes, while still on the screen, had a faraway look in them. she seemed to be shifting in her seat, her legs rubbing together subtly, her face flushed in a way that had nothing to do with the horror unfolding onscreen.

rindou quirked an eyebrow, leaning over to whisper, “something more interesting than the movie going on?”

y/n’s head snapped toward him, caught off guard, and she felt a deep wave of embarrassment. “what? no, i was just... i’m watching, i swear.”

he gave her a knowing look, one that made her squirm under his gaze. “right. because from where i’m sitting, it looks like you’re a little too distracted to be paying attention to what’s going on,” he murmured, his voice low, a faint smirk ghosting across his face. “did you really just waste our money on tickets just to get yourself all worked up over nothing?”

she huffed, crossing her arms in defense. “it’s not my fault! the movie got kind of... you know, intense, and you’re here, and...” her voice trailed off, and she glanced away, clearly embarrassed.

rindou chuckled softly, his usual calm demeanor breaking just enough for her to catch it. “oh, i see. so, you dragged me out here, begged me to watch this horror movie, and now you’re not even paying attention. that’s what i’m hearing.”

y/n pouted, tugging on his arm. “rindou, come on. i can’t help it...”

he leaned closer, his face only inches from hers, his voice a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. “can’t help it, huh?” he murmured, his tone teasing. “guess i’ll have to find a way to keep you entertained, since the movie isn’t cutting it.”

her eyes widened as he settled back in his seat, his hand casually resting on her thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles over her skin. she shot him a look, torn between shock and excitement, but he just kept that same indifferent expression, his gaze focused forward as if nothing unusual was happening.

“rindou,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the movie’s background noise. “people are around...”

he raised an eyebrow, not bothering to look at her, his thumb continuing its slow, deliberate movement. “you’re the one who couldn’t keep it together,” he said with a smirk. “don’t blame me for distracting you when you’re the one getting ideas.”

y/n’s heart raced, the weight of their friendship hanging heavy in the silence between them. she knew they were toeing a line, crossing into something unspoken and uncertain, yet she didn’t pull away. instead, she found herself leaning into his touch, the thrill of it mixing with a quiet fear that they couldn’t just come back from this.

she looked up at him, a small, hesitant smile tugging at her lips. “you know we probably shouldn’t...”

“probably,” he murmured, his voice steady, but his hand never moved. he glanced down at her, his usual calm exterior cracking just enough for her to see something else behind it—a question, a hesitation that matched her own. “but we’re already here, aren’t we?”

they held each other’s gaze, neither of them willing to break the moment, knowing they were treading dangerous ground. but in the dim glow of the theater, with his hand on her thigh and her fingers inching toward his, it felt like a risk they were both willing to take, consequences be damned.

"if you don’t want this, tell me now."

y/n remained quiet and rindou glanced at her, seeing that her gaze was already on him. she reached for his hand, her impatience making her guide him up her thigh a bit more. rindou's eyes widened immediately when we wasn't met with any sort of fabric at all, but the immediate warmth of her sex.

"what the hell, n/n?" he questioned, not moving his hand, but the flustered expression on his face said enough. a shiver coursed through her body as he pressed his digits against her. "please don't question it." she sighed trying to keep her voice low.

"was this your plan this whole time?" he asked and she let out an embarassed groan and rindou felt some pity at that. they'd been bestfriend's since forever and despite his attitude, rindou would drop anything in a second if y/n ever asked. she always came first in every situation, and she knew that. "so you didn't wanna watch this movie afterall?"

she looked at him, nodding her head. "i did, but..." she trailed off. "but you're too focused on this, huh?" just then, his fingers used her slick to slip his middle digit into her sex. she bit down on her inner cheek and her legs tightened around his hand. "what got you all worked up?"

y/n remained silent, avoiding the question. this piqued rindou's interest, making him slide his digits in deeper. y/n let out a shaky breath, trying to not bring attention to themselves, but the more rindou pleasured her, the more she squirmed in her seat. "are you dodging the question, y/n? if you are, I'll stop."

"no, no. don't stop." she pled, looking at rindou with glazed eyes. "then tell me. i have a feeling i know what it is." he shifted himself in his seat. trying to ignore his current situation as well. he thanked the dark lightning in the theater that caused her to not see his growing erection. "i was just wondering how you would feel inside me." she managed to get out.

"it's not very nice to have those kinds of thoughts about your bestfriend, y/n."

"can't help-" she was cut off when his in and out motions quickened. y/n lifted her lips to lean back a bit to slouch in the seat. this newfound position allowed rindou to reach deeper, caressing that sensetive spot that would drive her insane. "you're not being as discreet as you probably should, n/n." a smile appeard on his lips.

"so hurry up." she managed to glare at him and rindou rolled his eyes, focusing back on the movie in front of them. his fingers held no mercy on y/n despite the occasional whimpers that she would try to hide in her palm, the fidgeting of her legs closing around him, and the way her hand gripped his wrist with all the strength in her body. "quicker you come, the quicker you can be quiet." he muttered, tone sounding unbothered.

"i couldn’t care less if anyone figured out what we were doing, but that's all you're worried about, huh, y/n?" he taunted. "too focused on them to come?"

he reached over to y/n, using his freehand to turn her head to him. "you have three minutes. if you can't come before then, I'm stopping."

"what the fuck, rindou?" she shot him a harsh glare and a smile barely made it way to his lips but it was filled with anything but purity. he was the biggest tease ever and y/n knew this but hated that fact that she put it past him especially in situations like these. "come on, n/n. your time is wasting."

he sped his fingers up and y/n held his wrist steady before she grinded down onto his digits. he caressed that pleasure-filled spot once again and she shut her eyes, trying to turn off the rest of her senses.

she heard rindou speaking, but it all sounded muffled to her. if she listened to him, it'll feel all too real and that would throw her in for a loop all over again. his digits felt just right and she thought that if she focused on them enough, she could reach her high in no time.

that was proven to be true when she noticed that he sped up his motions even more, helping her as she continued to ride them, not caring about the other eyes around her. "rindou." she muttered through a whisper. she heard him hum, but she couldn't trust herself to speak at the moment.

instead, she tightly held onto his wrist as she balanced on that familiar edge of pure bliss. "come, n/n." that was all ot took for her to tip over. she tightened her already shut eyes, hoping that she wasn't being too loud. her sounds of pleasure came out as a moan, but it was muffled by a hand that wasn't her own. she felt the cool touch of metal agaisnt her lip and she realized it was from a ring that rindou always wore on his right hand.

"two minutes?" he smiled, watching as she carefully opened her eyes, her chest heaving with a fast pace. "i'm never doing this with you again." she muttered, looking around for a gaze that met her own.

"of course not. that would be crossing the line, right?"

y/n didn’t miss the pure sarcasm in his tone and she hated how she only clenched around his fingers once more so no matter what she would say next, he knew what she felt deep down.

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[threeacttragedy]

Entry 15 – The One Where I Try to Convince You of Just About Anything

“Don’t compromise yourself. Wait for the right person because you’re worth it.”

These were Nicola’s words the night of the London premiere when she was asked what dating advice she had for viewers. This quote has always stuck with me. Not because it’s actually great advice or emits wisdom well beyond Nicola’s years but because I can still remember the odd sense of foreboding that I felt as I listened to her words. They were just as poignant, if not more so, than the words that first invited me aboard this ship (Luke’s comments in Australia about friends-to-lovers).

And, although Luke “agree[d] with all of the above,” Nicola’s comment always struck me as making Luke uncomfortable. That interaction seemed off somehow. Awkward and strange in a way I wasn’t used to after two months of watching a rom-com style World Tour. In hindsight, and in a rather ominous way, the discomfort I felt alluded to what would happen later that evening – Luke “hard launching” Antonia.

As I was scribbling out today’s post and, honestly, struggling with how I wanted to structure it, I realized that it was not necessarily post-Papsmear (a/k/a Hot Boy Summer) people had an issue with. Instead, it seemed many people were having a hard time understanding – and accepting – Antonia’s existence in the Lukola-verse. This confusion, of course, led many to their own internal battlefield of trying to rationalize Luke’s behavior during that relatively short seven-week period. The reality is no one wants Luke to be the “Bad Guy;” therefore, people struggle to look at Hot Boy Summer with neutrality.

Don’t worry, I’m guilty, too.

I mean, Papsmear went down like a guillotine on a French – uh, well, nevermind that part. Let’s just say it did not go over well with the fandom. After months of “Romancing Mr. Bridgerton,” Luke was photographed walking into a hotel with Antonia snapping at his heels, sending the Lukola fandom into convulsions. What made it worse was that this was the night of the London premiere, the last leg of the World Tour. So long, motherfucking London!

The dark side of the fandom painted Luke as a monster – a man who, in less than three minutes, pissed on the Season 3 World Tour and broke Lukola hearts all over the world by seemingly choosing Antonia over Nicola. And, not only choosing Antonia, but flaunting her. People felt betrayed, shadowed by the possibility that Luke and Nicola had hoodwinked them with a fake PR romance and dumbfounded that Mr. I’m-Publicly-Single had a “girlfriend” (yes, that word is always up for speculation in this fandom). But, as with every dismal situation, you had the light bringers – the true-to-heart Lukolas – firing up on all cylinders and calling, “Foul!” in the direction of Antonia. A few of the less classy ones even picked up bits of old salad they’d found in a dumpster and tossed it in her direction (heehee, did you get my Dad Joke?).

And so Hot Boy Summer began…as did the confusion surrounding it.

In the beginning, I absolutely wanted Antonia to be the villain. But I’ve found that the more I write, the more indifferent I have become on the subject. Of course, that didn’t stop me from theorizing with friends. In fact, at one point, I had so many thoughts on the matter, if I had mapped them out on paper, they’d have resembled a spider’s web, with the hub being Papsmear. However, what I’ve discovered is that each of those theories, regardless of how simple or convoluted they were, took root in one of three central ideas.

That’s what I want to discuss today – those three central ideas from which every one of your sub-theories likely takes root (unless, of course, you’re the conspiracy theorist that believes Antonia is AI generated…). I want to lay out why I believe these theories are plausible (yes, prepare yourself to read some shit you almost certainly won’t find entertaining) countered by why I believe they may be out in left field. Maybe, just maybe, they will shed some light on Hot Boy Summer. But, also, maybe they won’t.

Okay, our three central theories are:

A) Luke and Nicola were simply PR-ing the fuck out of Polin.

B) Luke and Nicola were legit in their feels and Antonia became the jilted girlfriend.

C) Antonia was a PR girlfriend because [feel free to insert any reason you please].

We’re going to get the one nobody wants to consider out of the way first.

THEORY A: Nicola and Luke had a PR card up their sleeve the entire time.

I don’t like this theory any more than you do – the idea that Luke and Nicola were merely playing the part of two infatuated costars during the World Tour. However, this theory does exist, so there is no point in pretending that it doesn’t.

The backbone of this theory is that Luke and Nicola came to some kind of agreement to behave in a certain flirtatious manner during the World Tour to promote viewership of the show. As annoying as this theory is to the Lukolas, it is not unrealistic. For example, Glen Powell and Sydney Sweeney recently admitted to using the dating rumors that began while they were filming to build buzz around their movie, “Anyone But You.” Regardless of how reckless I find this behavior to be, I don’t doubt that we will start seeing it utilized more and more because it does help build interest in a project. That said, and although she admittedly leaned into the Powell romance rumors, Sweeney had an easy out once their press tour ended – she was (and still is) engaged to her long-time partner.

Now, let’s apply this PR romance to Luke and Nicola. It is entirely possible that these two simply played into their natural chemistry and allowed the romance rumors to fuel Polin. We could even go as far as to suggest that Netflix & Co. supported this PR romance because more viewers equaled more money. This, to some degree, also fits with the narrative that Luke seemingly kept Antonia out of the spotlight during the World Tour and, although it was terrible timing, launched her at the London premiere because he was tired of the fake PR. We could also make a convincing argument that this theory aligns with Luke and Nicola never addressing the status of their relationship (i.e., by never openly admitting they were “just friends,” they leave room for speculation and shipping).

To be honest, this would be a nice and tidy answer for how the World Tour went down, with Luke stepping in an elephant-sized pile of dog shit on his way out of the London afterparty and Nicola swooping into to play PR Hero by promoting Season 3 throughout the summer. Meaning, Hot Boy Summer was simply what it appeared to be at surface level – Luke running off with his girlfriend while Nicola continued promoting Season 3 on her own. Sure, this theory would leave us all feeling like we had just been kicked in the teeth, but we could absolutely package it up quite nicely and tie it with a little pink bow. However – nothing is ever that simple, is it?

There are some things that make me question the plausibility of this Luke-and-Nicola-PR-Romance theory, namely, (a) Luke and Nicola’s World Tour behavior, (b) comments made by interviewers, (c) the Claddagh ring, (d) the side trip to Galway, and (e) Chaos Week.

Regarding Luke and Nicola’s behavior towards each other during the World Tour, I don’t believe I need to go into too much detail here. Again, we all watched the same World Tour, and we all had the same reaction to their chemistry. Hell, the Jakolas started out on this side of the fandom because they also saw something between Luke and Nicola. However, to play Devil’s advocate, I will suggest that Luke and Nicola could absolutely be the next Daniel Day Lewis and Meryl Streep, method acting their way through the World Tour. But, in my honest opinion, they’re not. They’re both lovely actors but they don’t compare to the two I just named (sorry, but also not sorry).

I honestly debated with myself as to whether I wanted to include interviewer comments under this section. I finally relented and decided to do so because, for me, it was one of those things that made me question the plausibility of Luke and Nicola being strictly PR during the World Tour – because, yes, I did consider that back in May. For example, in response to Luke drinking from Nicola’s tea cup in Australia, when asked about it, the interviewer, Rachael Evren, responded, “They’re in[ ]love it’s fine.” Also in Australia, we listened to the back and forth between podcasters, Laura Brodnik and Em Vernem, debate Luke and Nicola’s real-life relationship:

Em: “I can’t believe you got her to say such juicy things about their chemistry.”

Laura: “They’re best friends and stuff, yeah, people think they’re together. They’re not, they’re just best friends.”

Em: “No, but they are.”

Laura: “Oh, don’t start that rumor. I want it on the record I’m not saying that.”

Em: “Well, I feel like after you watch Bridgerton Season 3 you would be like, ‘Oh yeah, they’re definitely dating.’”

By the time Luke and Nicola reached Canada, you had interviewers being quite obviously taken with their chemistry. For example, The Morning Show in Canada – have you ever watched Carolyn Mackenzie’s face when Luke and Nicola get into that Ryan Gosling discussion? Or, have you listened to the surprise in Karen Koster’s voice (“it’s like the carriage scene”) after witnessing Nicola touch Luke’s forehead on Ireland AM? Then you had Meredith Shaw from BT Canada and Ciara Kelly from Newstalk boldly asking Luke and Nicola about their real-life relationship, and Ben Shepherd from This Morning calling them out about the Carriage Scene (“you’re blaming the soundproof carriage, not the fact you got lost in the moment”).

And, then we had the written print:

On May 16, 2024, Shondaland’s Valentina Valentini wrote: “But throughout the past three seasons, it’s been a slow-burn anticipation for Newton and Coughlan, who have genuinely become real-life best friends in that span of time. Parallel to that, their on-screen characters have given us such a perfect crescendo of what it’s like to fall in love over decades that I’m not entirely convinced that the real-life people sitting in front of me are not actually in love. ‘Yeah! We’ve kept that one really secret!’ Coughlan jests when I hint at the possibility.”

And, in her June 14, 2024 publication, Fashion’s Annika Lautens wrote: “Nicola Coughlan and Luke Newton can’t stop looking at each other. I mean, they really can’t. As I enter their suite in the Four Seasons Hotel Toronto to interview the Bridgerton stars, all I can hear is laughter. Coughlan is leaning over to show Newton something on her phone. He throws his head back, giggling. It feels extremely intimate but, as the world has seen through countless clips on TikTok and on the third season of Bridgerton…this is just your average Tuesday for the two co-stars.”

These third-party reactions alone – in my opinion – debunk the Luke-and-Nicola-PR-Romance theory, but we will keep moving along.

I am not going to reexamine the Claddagh ring or Chaos Week in this entry as I have already gone into extensive detail of both in my blog Entries 6 and 14, respectively. If you’re behind on the significance of the Claddagh ring or Chaos Week, please take a moment and read those for more context. However, I will briefly discuss that special trip to Galway.

I’ve never quite followed why Nicola and Luke took that side trip to Galway. There was no special visit to Brighton – or wherever Luke’s family lives – so why Galway? I often find myself straddling the line between logic and delulu when I put my thoughts about Lukola on paper. I mean, from a logical standpoint, they were in Dublin so visiting Nicola’s hometown while they were on the island isn’t that farfetched. But to film it? Okay, yeah sure, Nicola is Shonda’s alleged favorite child, so I suppose it’s possible Shonda granted Nicola’s wish to flaunt Bridgerton in her hometown. I can honestly see this fitting into the Luke-and-Nicola-PR-Romance narrative. But –

It also doesn’t fit.

Sending Luke and Nicola to Galway was too close to home. It crossed the line between what could be excused as PR and what was clearly personal.

Not only did we have Nicola wearing her Claddagh ring in Galway in a manner that suggested she was in a relationship, but we also had her introducing Luke to her mother for the first time in what appeared to be an emotional moment. I have tried to convince myself this Mother-Meets-Luke thing was perfectly normal costar behavior. I have tried to convince myself that her sister-in-law’s reaction to Mother-Meets-Luke didn’t make me side-eye the entire situation. I have tried to convince myself that the Irish folks I’ve spoken with are exaggerating the significance of the Mother-Meets-Luke moment. I have also tried to convince myself there isn’t additional footage out there of this Galway Gathering just waiting to surface.

But, ugh, I just cannot convince myself that Luke and Nicola were strictly PR. This theory is as confusing as Sanrio telling us that Hello Kitty is really a human girl.

Verdict: NOT GUILTY.

Yes, we are marking this one as debunked.

THEORY B: Antonia became Luke’s jilted ex-girlfriend.

Hey, hey, USS Lutonia! I’ve got your flank.

No, actually I don’t. If the USS Lutonia was ever afloat, it sank somewhere off the coast of Italy. Sorry, but not really because I didn’t mourn you even a teensy bit.

I will preface this section by asserting my opinion that Luke and Antonia are not currently in a romantic relationship. Outside of “insinuation” posts made by Antonia, there is no evidence directly linking Luke to Antonia after July 30. Feel free to try to convince me otherwise but, when you do, make sure to include at least one photograph of Luke and Antonia in the same place at the same time with convincing evidence that it is current and that they are a couple (and, no, I will not accept blurry or Photoshopped images or metadata pulled from Instagram as evidence). That said, I will not argue with the idea that Luke and Antonia could have dated at one time. In fact, for this theory to play out, we have to agree that Luke and Antonia dated at some point.

Let’s pretend for a moment that Luke and Antonia dated before, during, and for a period after the World Tour. In this theory, the chemistry between Luke and Nicola was real (seriously, I think we’ve debunked that PR theory). The Claddagh ring and the side trip to Galway both suggested a romantic relationship between Luke and Nicola. Regardless of how real things were between Luke and Nicola, Luke still had Antonia lurking in the background. Perhaps Luke didn’t know how to break things off with her; maybe his friends and/or family made it difficult; maybe Antonia made things difficult. Everything came to a head at the London premiere, with Luke stepping on a landmine with Papsmear. But, because they can’t help but gravitate towards each other, Luke and Nicola found themselves back together – either immediately after Papsmear or, at the latest, by early August – and have continued their affair since. Oh, and Luke finally got around to breaking things off with Antonia on or after July 30.

This would – in a scorned woman kind of way – explain the “trolling” behavior Antonia was accused of during and after the World Tour. Those random posts that insinuated she was “with Luke,” even though the only evidence that directly linked her to Luke were (1) leaked and/or since-deleted pictures and videos from sources other than Luke, or (2) pictures of Luke’s friend group, which included Antonia, that, from time-to-time, alluded to Luke’s presence. Speaking of the friend group, the fact that Antonia appeared to be part of that group would support the idea that it was difficult for Luke to completely shake Antonia. This theory would also support the cat-and-mouse game played out on social media between Antonia and Nicola, which seemed heightened during and after Hot Boy Summer. Surely, you noticed that pattern by now. At the end of July, Luke’s friend group suffered some kind of catastrophic blow and Luke abandoned ship, officially breaking things off with Antonia as he went. This would explain the continued trolling for which Antonia has been accused; she hates Luke and is jealous of Nicola. Yeah, I can see this theory working. In fact, this is my preferred theory because it is the simplest. However –

For this theory to work, you must accept that Luke and Nicola are not perfect. That the two of them started an affair behind Antonia’s back. That “Nice Guy” Luke isn’t quite as sweet and kind as you have been led to believe; perhaps he’s even a bit of a fool. That “Good Girl” Nicola intervened in someone else’s relationship, making her the “other woman” and a tad disingenuous.  Does this make Luke and Nicola horrible people? No, it makes them two people who found themselves in a situation they didn’t know how to handle properly.

That said, this theory has its flaws.

For starters, it does not explain Luke’s apathy towards Antonia during and after the World Tour. I am not going to deep dive into my thoughts on this as I have already outlined them in “Entry 1: The One About That Weird Ass Cressida Post” and “Entry 13: The One Where the Ashes Blew Towards Us with the Salt Wind from the Sea.” But, I will reiterate that, to date, Luke has never acknowledged a relationship with Antonia, and he has never made an effort to rescue her from the fandom’s jaws of death. The only consistent link between the two of them was the friend group (that seems to have disbanded) and “insinuation” posts made by Antonia. I am sure there are people out there who will disagree with my next statement, but I don’t consider a New Year’s Eve kiss or a date to a tennis match a “relationship.” That would be like saying “I love you” on your first date (I know, I’ve offended at least one person with this remark – I apologize but I’m still leaving it in). It’s the lack of interaction between Luke and Antonia that makes me question whether they were ever in a real relationship; and therefore, I must question the validity of this theory.

And, because I know some of you will bring up those goddamn Instagram likes, the only comment I have is, “Get the fuck over it.” For real, it is far more fun to sit back and laugh at the “obligatory likes” than it is to freak out about them. Those likes are the only visible interaction between Luke and Antonia, and it’s becoming less and less frequent. The sad reality is, when Luke stops throwing a like in Antonia’s direction or unfollows her, she may lose the followers she gained after being linked to him. But, honestly, at this point – almost half a year later! – Antonia losing followers is her problem. And as much as I hate to admit it – this whole “like business” suggests some sort of arrangement was put in place post-breakup.

Verdict: HUNG JURY.

It’s a plausible theory – if I could be convinced Luke and Antonia were ever in a real relationship.

THEORY C: Antonia was the Real PR this whole time.

I hope you’ve read “Entry 1: The One About That Weird Ass Cressida Post” and, at a minimum, the “Mrs. Danvers” section of “Entry 13: The One Where the Ashes Blew Towards Us with the Salt Wind from the Sea” because they both detail my blubbering bullshit thoughts on Luke and Antonia’s “relationship.” I’m not going to rehash them here because I’m confident most of you also find this “relationship” suspicious for the exact same reasons I do.

For the longest time, I believed the absurdly popular “Antonia was the Real PR” [conspiracy] theory to be the fandom’s excuse for not wanting to believe Luke could ever be in a real relationship with Antonia, and that (gasp!) he could have chosen Antonia over Nicola (I mean, what a prick!). In truth, I refused to give this theory much weight until my dad – yes, that guy ­– said to me, “Sounds like PR,” during one of our fireside Lukola chats. My father has a whole sub-theory on this, actually, and yes, I will explain it momentarily.

Honestly, I hate this theory because it’s complicated. And, damn straight, I’m going to throw some Benjamin Franklin at you and say, “Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.” This theory takes things beyond two celebrities playing into romance rumors to boost interest in their project, and brings in a third wheel, Antonia, to – fuck, I have no idea – blur the lines a bit?!

Alright, time for Dad’s theory…

Per my father, this was not just any PR deal; it was an arrangement struck with a “friend of a friend.” No need for an actual third wheel; just someone who was already part of the friend group that could provide the illusion that Luke might have a girlfriend. All they had to do was plant the seed and let the rumor grow, all while never outwardly confirming or denying it; that way the PR relationship could disappear as easily as it was planted.

I allowed my dad to carry on with his theory because, as he pointed out, Antonia being part of the friend group explained why (1) Luke didn’t mind her being around over the summer (it wasn’t personal, it was business), and (2) Luke had no romantic interest in Antonia (she was simply a “friend of a friend”). The fact that my father picked up on this “fandom dilemma” intrigued me.

After listening to my dad’s theory (there’s more, I promise), I spent an afternoon researching “PR relationships” and whether they existed or not. Turns out, they do. Well, they do, if we trust Mr. Google’s search results. It’s a bit of a quid pro quo thing. For example, one, usually more famous person, strikes up a “relationship” with a lesser-known person. The lesser-known person receives exposure while the more famous person receives [fill in the blank]; both gain some kind of benefit from the arrangement.

Now, the question of why Luke would need a PR relationship is – seriously – “fill in the blank” material. Some people have suggested it was to keep Luke and Nicola’s real-life relationship private; some have suggested it was Netflix stepping in to protect Polin if Lukola went south; others have suggested it was to bolster Luke’s image. I find the latter reason offensive because it assumes that having Nicola by his side wouldn’t help his image. But the other two sub-theories are reasonable to me (but also don’t really matter in the scheme of things).

The problem with the Luke-and-Antonia-PR-Romance is that it seems to have gone terribly wrong. What very possibly started out as an “illusion” became “real” with Papsmear. What I find interesting is, like the New York City premiere, Antonia was only seen in the background of the London premiere. Even as Luke was leaving the London afterparty, she went to the car while he met with fans. It wasn’t until they were papped at the hotel, that Antonia was suddenly “next to” Luke grabbing at his hand, thus “launching their relationship.”

Ruh-roh.

My dad’s theory goes on to assume that – after Papsmear – whatever “deal” Antonia was given (for example, Luke’s online support of her Instagram page or invitations to attend certain events over the summer) would be carried out as agreed. However, during that time, Antonia would return to her place in the shadows. I will confess that this is what seemed to happen – Luke never acknowledged a relationship with Antonia and evidence of their relationship seemed virtually non-existent. To the general audience, Antonia was simply a “woman in the background,” unrecognizable by most.

Assuming this PR theory is true, I’d like to believe Antonia was simply doing what she had agreed to do – feed into the illusion of a relationship with “insinuation” posts, for which she could later claim plausible deniability. However, I find this hard to believe when leaked photographs and videos started to surface in July and they were always preceded by DeuxMoi (see, I’m starting to support this theory).

At this point in his theory, my dad quoted a line by Paul McCartney, “You took your lucky break and broke it in two.” What he was saying was Antonia was given an opportunity and, due to her own actions, she mucked it up. She became fame hungry and the insinuations of her being in a relationship with Luke became harder to dispel when they were being leaked online by third party sources. However, as I reminded my father, we cannot prove Antonia was involved with any of the pap pictures. We can speculate, sure, but please keep in mind we cannot prove it.

Did I warn you my dad deep dived into this? Because, haha, he sure did.

By mid-July, per my father’s theory, Nicola was fully aware of the game Antonia was playing and recruited (not the right word, but we’ll go with it) JVN to fire subtle insults into Antonia’s camp with the intent of discrediting her.

The game ended after the Italy pap pictures were published, with Luke seemingly cutting ties with his entire friend group, which included Antonia. However, the game didn’t actually end there, at least not for Antonia. Due to whatever agreement Luke and Antonia had in place before Italy, Luke was still obligated to fulfill his part of the deal. We’re just going to speculate here that part of that included those “obligatory likes” of Antonia’s Instagram posts.

Thank you, Dear Dad, for that rather practical theory.

My issue with this is that Antonia’s antics repeatedly bring hate to Luke’s doorstep. Every time Antonia posts something on Instagram and Luke likes the post, the fandom – namely, the Sincerely Ignorant – get riled up and start slinging hate missiles at Luke (at this point, Luke can’t have nice things). And Antonia slipping things in like that balcony from the Spanish resort doesn’t help to dissuade the fandom from believing her to be a petty bitch.

My initial reaction to this theory was, no way, because at this point Antonia would have breached her contract and Luke wouldn’t still be bound by it. But then I realized, in order to breach it, one had to prove Antonia violated it. Okay, fine. But why not negotiate terminating the agreement early? Oh, well, yes, I suppose it is possible that the cost to do that outweighed the benefit. And, since those “obligatory likes” still seem to be in place – even when they bring Luke hate – I’m going to make a wild guess the agreement remains. For now.

In closing, and since I mentioned that Spanish resort nonsense, the fact that Antonia only ever posts things that insinuate she may have been in the same location as Luke supports the idea that Antonia is simply doing what she agreed to do – create an illusion. So, before anyone starts bashing Antonia, recognize she may simply be complying with her end of the arrangement. She may be just as ready to get out of that agreement as we imagine Luke to be. You know what I’d love to see? Antonia unfollow Luke and be like, “I’m out, bitches!” Honestly, I’d probably give her an “atta girl,” if she did that.

Verdict: HUNG JURY BUT WILLING TO CONSIDER A RETRIAL.

I hate to admit it, but I think this is a plausible theory. Not full proof, but strangely (and annoyingly) credible.

***

Alright, so there you have it. The three central theories that act as the spider web’s hub to all your sub-theories – because I’m certain you have them. You’re welcome to spin off in whatever direction you please, and no, you don’t need to loop me in – because, in truth, I don’t care that much anymore. And that’s not in any way meant to be negative.

For the longest time, trying to rationalize how Hot Boy Summer played out was the missing piece of my Lukola puzzle. I mean, I needed the answer. I needed it so badly; I practically presented an entire Lukola documentary to the wisest person I know – my dad – so he could solve it for me.

Dad: “Why does this matter?”

Me: “I don’t know, it just does. I just want to know what happened.”

Dad: “Will it change your opinion about whether Luke and Nicola are together?”

Me: “No.”

Dad: “Then why does it matter?”

Me: “I don’t know. It just does.”

Dad: “But you’re never going to know, are you?”

Goddammit, no, I’m never going to fucking know.

And, that is the reality of this situation. No matter how many hypotheticals we present, no matter how many sub-theories we create, we will never know what happened over Hot Boy Summer. We will never be able to justify Luke’s behavior during that time. We will never be able to explain with certainty Antonia’s role in this whole shebang.

You may not like that answer. In fact, the theories I presented today may have fueled your ambition to continue trying to solve Hot Boy Summer on your own, or with your friends. I admire that determination. But I also admire those who can let go and accept that it is what it is.

And what it is – and what it will almost certainly always be – is unknown.

[alastor-simp]

Sensitive Soul😔 - Alastor x Reader

Requested by @ju1yyyzzz

The Hazbin gang were all lounging around the lobby, minding their own business. Charlie was reading a story book, definitely romance. Vaggie had her spear in her hand, practicing her moves. Sir Pentious was observing her. Apparently Vaggie wanted to teach him some physical combat, since he relied too much on his gadgets and egg minions. He was sloppy, but he had a lot of confidence, which Vaggie respected. Angel dust was chatting away at the bar with Husk. Their relationship had improved a lot, leaving you feeling very happy to the point you cried. Zooming sounds were happening all across the room. It was Niffty, chasing after the insects with a knitting needle. The look in her eye was crazy and glad she was aiming it towards the bugs, and not you. Alastor was relaxing against a chair, legs crossed while sipping from a coffee mug. The hotel radio was playing a broadcast from the human world. The fact that it could pick up stations from the living world was insane. Must have been Alastor's doing since he always looking for more entertainment.

The phone in your hand was your source of entertainment for the time being, as you kept flipping through Sinstagram. Static emanated from the radio, beginning to play a broadcast in regards to some sort of pandemic happening on earth. The grin radiating on Alastor's face was nerve wracking, as he continued to listen in on it. "HAHA! How utterly entertaning! Makes me remember the good old days during the Great Depression! So many orphans!" It felt like you had been punched in the stomach. 'How could he find that entertaining'. Your thoughts were becoming depressing, and tears began to appear in your eyes. Charlie took a break from her book, and looked up, noticing your sad expression. "Y/N, Why are you crying?" Realization hit you as you touched your cheek and felt wetness. The room got quiet, everyone gazing at you with concerned looks including Alastor. "I-I'm I-. I need to be excused." Jumping from where you were sitting, you rushed out of the room, leaving everyone confused. Angel was the first to speak up: "What the f✪✪✪ was that about?"

Charlie felt the need to comfort you, but she concluded that your probably needed a minute to calm down. She looked around the room, observing everyone. "Did any of you say anything to them?" Everyone shrugged their shoulders, stumped. Niffty zoomed next to Charlie, wanting to tell her something. "She started to cry when Alastor was laughing about something on the radio." Eyes all turned to Al. Alastor still had a smile on his face, but mentally he was riddled with confusion. "I was only reminiscing about the past! My words did not bare any insults towards them!" A spear was drawn at his face, causing him to arch an eyebrow. Ohh how scary he thought. Vaggie was fuming, nearly about to strike Alastor. "Whatever you said apparently made them upset! Now go and check on them, bastardo!" The air grew ominous, as Alastor powers began to expand, clouding the room with black mist. The smile on his face began to grow monstrous, as his eyes turned into radio dials. "Now Vaggie! There is no need for threats! But I advise that you lower your w̶͈̒͜è̶̫̤͖̃̀̔̋́a̴̝̮̾̽̋̌̈́̎̍p̵̳̟̩͈̬̹͓̔̀͌ó̸̟̃ṇ̵̹̻̽̉ ̶̩̞͓̃̓͌̈́ȍ̷̬ṛ̸̨̡͈̹́͜ ̵̡͈̰͎́̚ḛ̴̞̯̭̥͊̅̇̃̎̆l̵̖̔͑͆̿s̸̙̐̌̐̆̓͠è̵̛̻͑̓̊͠!" Charlie jumped between the both of them, wanting to appease the situation. "Vaggie Stop!" Charlie words reached her girlfriend, causing the spear to be lowered, as she crossed her arms. Charlie then looked at Alastor, who had managed to calm down slightly, yet the air was still tense. "Alastor. Could you please check on Y/N?" A shook of his head, brought him back to normal, as he stood up from the couch. "All right!" The staff in his hand at appeared, giving it a twirl before he stood up from the couch, walking away with his hands behind his back.

"Now where could the little darling have gone?" Alastor announced to himself, as he ventured down the hallways. His first place to look would be your room. Giving a rhythmic tap on the door, he waited for you to open the door. His ears twitched, trying to pinpoint any sounds from the other side, but heard none. "Hmm. Not here." Alastor continued to look for you. The last place to look was the hotel garden. It needed a lot of weeding and pruning when he first arrived at the Hotel. Niffty and you were able to fix it right up, planting certain hellflowers and fruits and vegetables. Sounds of sniffling reached Alastor's ears, "Ah so you were here!" he thought. He found on curled on the ground, laying on the concrete ground, admiring the flowers. His eyes noticed the tear streaks that were still prominent on your cheeks. Turning your head around, you saw Alastor standing next to you, before looking away. "Why the long face my dear?" Alastor chortled to himself, while you remained silent. Your lack of silence bothered Al. He still couldn't piece together why you were crying in the lobby? He snapped his fingers, causing a cushion to appear on the ground. He didn't want to dirty his pants. Plopping down, he continued to look at you. His smile stayed the same, but his eyes were looking at you with slight concern.

"My dear, what has you so upset? Was it something I did in the lobby that bothered you?" He patiently waited for your answer. Wiping your tears with your sleeve, you turned your head towards him. "You didn't do anything Al. It was the topic you brought up that got to me!" Cocking his head, he pondered what you said. A lightbulb flashed in his head. "Ahh yes! The great depression!" His smile became giddy. His entertainment for misery was appearing again. "Yes. I know to you it was highly entertaining, but to others it wasn't. It just made be think about all the hard-times during that time, and the orphans and what-not. I know its stupid to cry over something like that, but certain things or topics I'm very sensitive too. Often times it results in my breaking down in tears like you just saw." Alastor continued to stare at you, while you talked. He was relieved he didn't cause something directly to upset you, but it did stun him a a bit at your reasoning. His years being a radio host/serial killer harden him, to the point certain depressing topics became utter joy for him. It gave him a bit of realization that subjects like this were very bothersome to others, including you. "I apologized if I worried you and the others. Just didn't want to cry in front of all of you over something stupid. Wish I wasn't such a cry-baby." Casting your eyes down, you gazed at ground.

A fluffy material touched your cheek, causing you to jump. Looking at Al, he was cleaning your face with a handkerchief. His signature smile, had dropped. It wasn't a frown, but he was a full on smile either. More of a slight grin. "Y/N, there is nothing wrong with crying over stuff like this. My time in Hell has made me immune to depressing topics. This doesn't make you a cry-baby, it just means that you have a pure soul. You care about the well being of others greatly, to the point of tears. It is quite alright my dear, and I would like to give a proper apology to you." His words were insanely sweet. More tears began to pour out your eyes, shocking Alastor even more.

"My dear?! What did I say? Why are the tears still coming from your eyes?" His actions were frantic, as he continued to wipe the tears from your eyes. The tears still flowed, but a smile was on your face. "Hehe, I'm sorry. Your words were very sweet and just made me very happy that I wanted to cry." Alastor gave a chuckle as well, shaking his head. "My my what a strange demon you were. Still, you were very adorable." He thought to himself. Soon the handkerchief had removed all of the tears that were flowing down. The signature grin he wore returned, as he got up from his position, snapping the cushion away. His hand extended out to you, allowing you to grab it. Being pulled up, you got up off the ground, and stood in front of Alastor. His other hand was placed on your cheek, giving it a stroke before returning back to him. "Shall we head back my dear? The others must be getting worried!" He smiled down at you, to which you responded back with a nod, as the both of you walked together out of the garden to rejoin the others.

~END~

*Tagging*

@pepperycookie , @yourdoorisunlocked, @ghostdoodlen , @aceofcards0-0 , @jyoongim , @saturnhas82moons , @unholycheesesnack, @luujjvi, @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @veethewriter , @rains-sleeping , @danveration , @demoarah , @cookiekyo , @iiotic , @delectableworm , @91062854-ka , @alastorsgoldie

[multiverse-sparkles]

Loving him was never enough — B. Barnes.

summary: you allow yourself to feel the loss and the hurt of his betrayal— but after this, you promise yourself; no more. this time, you leave bucky barnes. this time, you put yourself first.

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: cheating, ANGST, more angst, allusions to pregnancy, cursing.

part 2 to this

the party was in full swing downstairs; another celebration for a reason you no longer bothered to remember. from the third year of your marriage, banquets and gatherings were a part of your week, either with your husband's business associates or simply just friends getting together for the sake of appearances, it was a chore itself to try and keep up with the latest reason for a celebration of such caliber.

yet you have always played your part well; smiling, cheering, and raising toast when needed be. you've also perfected the charade of a loving husband and wife, sharing ocassional whispers and laughter, perhaps even a lingering kiss; and sometimes, they were welcomed. sometimes, you do feel the tenderness as he gazes at you. you feel the butterflies whenever he would whisper something cheesy on your ears. even the touch of his lips upon yours were enough to renew hope, until, come another day.

but recently, you've only ever been feeling the heavy weight of dread on the pit of your stomach. something ominous, something akin to resentment ; an emotion you've never entertained, despite his numerous indescretions. his blatant disregard for the sanctity of your marriage has finally caught up with you.

bucky finally exhausted your love.

because as you stared at him, in his act of something so sinful, molding his body with another woman, fucking into her with wild abandon; it was like a bucket of cold water has drenched you.

you were suddenly all too aware of your surroundings, and your grip on the knob loosened, only enough to close the door back again.

the frames rattled, the occupants of the bed stilled, and only the patter of drifting footsteps filled the silence.

the same time bucky's blood ran cold in his veins.

you slept in what felt like, the best ten fucking hours of rest; awaking with the bright sun peaking from the spaces of the curtain, even the birds chirping happily, and for the first time in a really long time, you woke up with a contented sigh.

you were back in your old home, it's much smaller in size, and comparatively less luxurious than the estate you lived in, but it was home. and it was yours. something that could never be tethered to the man you called your husband.

automatically, you checked your phone for emails; several missed calls and text messages from bucky himself were what welcomed you, yet you opted to ignore them, instead checking in with your close friend and one of new york's finest; andy barber.

barber: will you be free to come to the office at around ten? i can discuss your options, and we'll have to go through the paperwork to sort out whatever you need to do.

barber: also, while we're at it; i'm proud of you.

for what felt like hours, but couldn't have been more than ten minutes, you thought back to your back and forth correspondence the night prior— thinking, had you really made the decision to leave him? was it real this time?

could you live without him?

you'd pondered about the prospect most of your marriage, ultimately coming to a conclusion that it was difficult to eject james out of your system. he was your entire world and existing without him was a thought that couldn't even exist in your orbit. and ultimately; can you really live the rest of your life, chained to a man so warped up in his own selfishness without making the effort to actually consider what you may be feeling?

can you continously gaslight yourself into thinking that he loved you; in his own, twisted way. that he was only so weak of a man to deny the temptations and wants of his flesh— were you not so tired, and broken down by his false promises, that you ache, deep in your soul.

when will you realize that the only person who deserves unlimited forgiveness was yourself, and not the man who promised you forever; but stomped and ran over the tattered pieces of your heart.

your hand touched upon your stomach, a protective instinct blaring noisily in your head; you have not only yourself to think about now.

years of trying had not once bore to fruiton until now— you wipe the hot tears streaming down your face, a sob echoing in the stilness of the room. why was your love so cruel to you? why was it that you had let things go this far with a person such as james?

you cry out. torn and heart wrenching cries as you let yourself feel the years of betrayal, and heartache, promising yourself that this will be the last.

soon.. you hope; soon, you will no longer cry for him.

[mrinafria]

Seen some viewers not liking The Judge from Hell for different reasons, and I think I kind of get why (just my guess). Also, disclaimer (in case it's not obvious enough): I respect and am fine with anyone disagreeing with me and not liking the show for whatever reason.

If you've watched The Devil Judge, then The Judge from Hell is not that. Unlike The Devil Judge, it doesn't have a dark, grim, ominous setup that stays true to that heavy vibe till the end. If you've watched Lucifer, it's not that either. Close but also not really. Unlike Lucifer, The Judge from Hell hasn't shown us an anti-hero/anti-heroine who, underneath the charisma and confidence and tricks and looks, is full of self-loathing, unprocessed angst and human-like emotions. I'm just going off of the 8 episodes of TJFH aired so far. Unlike Lucifer, Justitia doesn't seem to display a subconscious desire not to be misunderstood and abandoned, nor does she feel complex emotions about humans and humanity (it's just starting with Daon she still has a long way to go). We don't see a Fallen/Demon with a semblance of a moral compass here.

Even her "I trust what children say" doesn't mean much because she doesn't do that out of some morality; to her, it's just facts that children are the least crafty and least vile amongst humans. Justitia is very mechanical (and petty even) in what she does- she's not on some great self-discovery or redemption journey in here to even entertain the notion of humanity or morality. If we expect such nuance from her so early on in the story, we maybe setting ourselves up for disappointment. Y'all she's been doing this for Lord knows HOW many hundred years. It's not her first gig. If you have been having coffee at night despite being an insomniac for like three decades, it's highly likely you'd stop thinking or caring about the morality, the 'rightness' of drinking coffee even when it destroys your health.

It's like that for her, to the point where she can, in fact, treat every murder, every crime, every criminal lightly. She's been the judge, jury and executioner all along, and that's the job she needs to do well on earth too. As audience, we may be living on earth longer than she's been but the moment Justitia stepped in, it became 'her world' that we're now getting a peek at.

She's not some vigilante or messiah; just an eccentric, murdering demon from hell who likes Z cola and a pretty wardrobe and Han Daon too- what's wrong with that lol. I remember seeing similar sentiments when Vincenzo was on, because some felt the comedy and humor didn't go well with the overall theme, with a psycho CEO committing all kinds of crimes+ ML's childhood grief and mafia ptsd+ revenge etc. I feel like it was a conscious choice not to make the show so heavy or serious, despite the subject matter. TJFH feels like it treats heavy stuff casually because it is mostly shown through Justitia's lens, and so far, SHE has been treating heavy stuff casually. She really doesn't feel anything emotionally for the girl being in an abusive relationship, or the child being with that horrible excuse of a stepmom. All she sees are the sinners and their sins, and whether they can help her fulfill her mission.

But even that is changing now, gradually, with Justitia/Kang Bitna starting to feel more and more human emotions (props to Daon).

Now, could we have gotten a more nuanced character arc with a serious undertone? Maybe yes, maybe no. The story is yet to unfold fully so I say it's too early to decide that? However, three things that come to mind are: 1. kdramas generally don't get seasons unlike TV series in the US or UK, to explore things gradually with each season geared towards a certain theme or development. Lucifer did what it did in six seasons. 2. I've noticed that unless it's a super horror, super apocalyptic or dystopian show, kdramas like to incorporate humor in their story no matter what genre it is (even shows like The Light in Your Eyes or Moon Lovers or Hi Bye, Mama have their lighthearted moments). Kdramas aren't perfect. Different shows become perfect to different audiences because of their personal preferences. I watch the show because the trailers promised us a fantasy drama with angst between the leads, because it gives me a good laugh, and also maybe because a small part in me kinda sorta lives vicariously through Justitia's ultimate reckoning lol.

I'm actually glad it's not a heavy show because the stuff they've shown so far can be quite disturbing and triggering and I'd be very hesitant to proceed with it if that were the case. 3. I think it's also okay to acknowledge that not all writers/creatives would prefer to do the research needed to pull off certain themes, nuanced character arcs and dynamic, which can leave some viewers wanting more out of a character/show too.

It's fine not to like a hyped drama or a character (happens to me too). But in my opinion, the show is delivering what it promised to deliver initially, and I'm glad it is.

[apomaro-mellow]

King and Prince 43

Part 42

Steve was getting an ominous sense of deja vu. Things were starting to feel like before, when Eddie restrained himself when they were alone. Except things were a little different now. Sometimes he’d hear a sigh and catch Eddie looking at him from across the room. Like Steve was across the ocean instead of just steps away.

And then there was the touching. Eddie’s affection could already be called worshipful, but lately it had taken on another level. Eddie touched him like he was made of glass, like he was afraid Steve would disappear, like he was a ghost. That was fine for soft mornings but sometimes Steve wanted to be pushed up against a wall and the fact that Eddie was going backwards was getting in the way of that.

He was sure there was also a larger issue at hand and wanted to discuss that too. But it was something he wanted to talk about in private and whenever they were alone Steve got…distracted. Like right now. He had come to Eddie’s study ostensibly to pass the time with a book Robin was letting him borrow. But of course, it didn’t take long for Steve to make a throne out of Eddie’s lap.

“Wasn’t trying to get you off task”, Steve said as Eddie kissed his neck. Despite his words, he pushed his back into Eddie’s chest, eyes glancing down at the documents in front of them.

Eddie’s hands smoothed up his sides. “No task takes priority over you.”

“Oh, I’m a task now?”, Steve teased. “Like a chore?”

“You are a privilege, an honor”, Eddie amended, nudging Steve’s collar down to reach more of his neck.

His teeth brushed his skin and then all of a sudden they were gone, replaced by lips without a single bite. Not even a nibble. Steve sighed and shifted, trying to turn in his love’s hold. Eddie looked up at him, confused.

“Why have you bee-” He was cut off by a knock at the door.

“The knock was a courtesy because I know Steve is in there but I’m coming in anyway. You both better be decent”, Nancy said before entering. She only looked mildly annoyed to see Steve in Eddie’s lap.

“Decent enough?”, Eddie grinned, hands up to show that neither were down Steve’s pants.

“I just came to officially set the trial date for our two prisoners. Apparently it’s cold down in the dungeon.”

Steve and Eddie shared a look. Somehow, the dungeon felt like an inside joke to them. For their crimes, Bramble and Sansweet had been arrested and locked away. But Eddie was nothing but fair. And they were owed a fair trial before having their sentence. But every time he thought too hard about what they did, that bloodlust flared back up. He got to behead Gendrid but Steve was denied his own revenge. And the children did still want to see a man’s head get smashed by a hammer-

“Hey!”, Nancy shouted, tossing a heavy paperweight at his head that Eddie caught just in time.

“You dare attack your king?”, he gasped.

“I do when he starts feeling up princes right in front of me”, Nancy said.

Only then did Eddie realize he got so caught up in his thoughts of seeing Steve rage so beautifully, his hand was more than halfway up his thigh. Steve, to his credit, didn’t appear bothered at all.

Nancy crossed her arms. “A trial date? Your Majesty?”

“Why wait? My mind is made up and I’m doubtful they could provide any evidence to save their skins but it will be entertaining to watch them try.”

“You wish to make a spectacle of it?”, Steve asked.

“I wish to have their crimes laid out for all to see”, Eddie said. “In fact, let’s give them an audience.”

“You want to give two council members a public trial?”, Nancy asked. “You’ve never done that before.”

“Not in your lifetime perhaps”, Eddie reminded her.

And that hung in the air for a moment, reminding both Nancy and Steve that Eddie had already lived several lifetimes before them. She nodded, assuring him that they’d have a full house tomorrow and that she’d be telling the prisoners their trial was set. Steve gazed at Eddie’s face, at a loss of words for a moment just long enough for someone else to burst in.

This time it was Max and Mike, arguing at the top of their lungs. They were both so loud and their faces were so red, they looked like they might explode. So engrossed in their own argument, neither even commented on the fact that Steve was in Eddie’s lap. Steve sighed. Eddie had work to do. And someone had to keep them from biting each other’s throats out. Steve stood, clapping his big hands together and getting their attention.

“Alright! Okay! Let’s take it outside! Or better yet, the training arena.”

“Good call. So I can whip his hide”, Max said.

“You think I’ll hold back just because you’re a girl?!”, Mike shouted back.

Steve put a hand on both of them and led them out, giving Eddie a look back as they left. Eddie mouthed ‘thank you’ while watching them leave.

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

They didn’t see each other again until night, when they were falling into bed together. Steve was thoroughly worn out and his eyes were already half closed as Eddie got close to him.

“I don’t know how you could possibly entertain the idea of having your own children”, Steve yawned.

“Ours wouldn’t be like that”, Eddie said defensively.

Steve raised a brow. “Dustin is practically your copy. And if Mike and Max don’t get their rage from you, where does it come from?”

“Those two came to me like that”, Eddie said. “I had nothing to do with it. And you conveniently didn’t mention Lucas, your favorite.”

Steve hid away, burying his face into his pillow, his response muffled. “Don’t have a favorite.”

Eddie chuckled, allowing Steve to run from the conversation. He simply kissed the back of Steve’s head and held him close through the night. When morning came, the castle bustled, preparing to receive those who wanted to attend the trial. Snow had begun to fall regularly now, but the road to the castle was always clear.

The royal pair got ready as well, dressing each other. Steve kissed Eddie’s wrist as he tied his sleeve with red ties. Once he was done, Eddie returned the favor. Their colors were matching today. Eddie in all black with red accents and Steve in the opposite. Eddie’s lips made a path up his arm, over his shoulder and to his neck.

There was a moment of pause. They both looked in each other’s eyes.

“I might be killing someone today”, Steve said, his voice low.

“First time?”, Eddie asked.

“First time ever doing this to someone who wasn’t armed or trying to hurt me first”, Steve admitted.

“They did try to hurt you, my love”, Eddie reminded him. “And they need to pay.”

Steve nodded. “I know. And they will.”

The trial was set for right after breakfast. Neither of them ate much. They would see the two conspirators in the throne room. Townsfolk and people who worked in the castle were already filling in. Bramble was brought in first, shackled by the wrists and ankles and looking worse for wear. Sansweet was brought in right after, looking even worse. Eddie and Steve were announced by their royal titles and they walked out, arm in arm.

Steve was surprised to see an addition to the throne that sat at the head of the room. A second throne, right next to it. He would have stopped and stared if Eddie didn’t pull him along.

“For you”, Eddie whispered into his ear, holding Steve’s hand as he guided his sweet prince to take his seat first. Then Eddie sat down himself.

There was a low murmur in the crowd. Those that had been in this room had seen Eddie sitting only by himself. For as long as this castle stood, there had never been a second throne.

A guard hit their staff on the floor three times, calling the room to attention. “Ulimous Bramble and Vance Sansweet, you stand accused of the following crimes: kidnapping, conspiring against the crown, accessory to assault, and attempted coup. How do you plead?”

“We are innocent!”, Sansweet pleaded right away. “It was all that other man’s idea. I promise you, my lord, we meant no ill will!”

“Before his untimely death, Gendrid said the same of you two”, Eddie said, crossing his legs. “He said you did all the legwork. He hardly needed to lift a finger.”

“This is preposterous!”, Bramble shouted. “It is our word against a dead man’s!”

“Do you deny any of it?”, Eddie pointed the question at Bramble.

“Even if the duke’s word is true, even if we played a part in it, how can you accuse us of conspiring against the crown? Of attempting a coup? Prince Steven is not of this kingdom’s royalty!”, Bramble’s chains shook as he pointed a finger at Steve.

A black shadow whipped and in a blink, Bramble was holding his hand against his chest. A bloody finger dropped in front of him. Eddie was gripping the arms of his throne, just barely keeping his body from shooting forward.

“Your insolence will cost you more than a finger next time”, Eddie warned.

Sansweet whimpered. Bramble’s face was pale but he could see where his partner had been going with this. They’d done many things. But if they could get the king to erase some of it, maybe their sentence would be gentler.

“Your Majesty, p-p-please listen. He merely meant to say that any involvement with Lord Gendrid can not be considered an attempt to overthrow you. Prince Steven is of noble blood, yes. But he is not a child of this kingdom. Any action taken against him is not an action taken against you.”

Bramble began to speak up again, finding his voice, but Yulia barely heard a word. Her eyes were still on the finger lying just inches away from the man’s feet. Yulia had seen the duke’s head, separated by miles from his body. She knew what she might witness if she came here today. She didn’t revel in bloodshed of course. But what were these men thinking?

“You think they’ll be hanged?”, someone whispered behind her.

“Bet they’ll be beheaded. Like that other guy was”, another responded.

“The prince is our guest and more importantly my betrothed!”, Eddie shouted, getting to his feet now. “Let it be known throughout the lands - if you lay a hand on my beloved, it will be treated as a declaration of war!”

Yulia watched as one fell to his knees while the other’s hands shook, glaring at Prince Steven like that alone could make him drop dead.

“You would choose him over us?! You would make him KING?!”, Bramble screamed.

“Yes”, Eddie answered, turning his gaze to Steve. All who could see his expression saw nothing but adoration.

“An interloper! His entire lineage wishes death on our country! He is an enemy to the crown!”

Bramble seemed to realize his end was near and was using everything in his arsenal. But to what end, Yulia didn’t know. Everything he said, everyone knew already. But he kept going.

“That prince will be your downfall! And what will you have left when he is dead?! You’ll have NOTH-ueghugh.”

This time, the black shadow didn’t disappear the moment the deed was done. It stayed right where it was, penetrating Bramble’s neck. The room felt cold all of a sudden, rivaling the chill outside. Yulia looked around because suddenly it was darker too, like all of the color had been drained from the room.

“Let these men be an example”, the king said. The shadow disappeared like fog and the first conspirator dropped to the floor. There wasn’t a sound except for the thud of his body hitting the floor and the final gurgles as he choked on his own blood. The king turned to his prince, gesturing at the second man. “Would you like to do the honors?”

A guard came up to Steve, holding the very same hammer he had used to fight Jason. Sansweet, realizing that the king was a brick wall, turned his pleads to the prince instead. Yulia didn’t know what the prince would do. He had mercy on Carver. But she wasn’t sure these men deserved that. It wasn’t just that they had gone behind the king’s back to do this. If they had gotten their way, Prince Steven would have been whisked away, torn from his love forever.

Yulia tried to imagine living as long as the king had, only to find your soulmate after centuries of walking this world. She’d never been in love like that, but it sounded heart wrenching. She watched as Prince Steven took the hammer in hand, his face expressionless.

“Gendrid begged for his life in the end too”, he said. “He was on his knees, just like you. Do you know what he was doing before that?”

Sansweet sniffled, not taking his eyes off of the hammer. There was a low rumble in the air.

“Look your prince in the eye when he speaks to you”, the king ordered.

Prince Steven didn’t continue until Sansweet obeyed. “He had taken me to his room. He had tied me to a bed. He was about to commit an unspeakable act towards me. Mercy is for the repentant, not the defeated. I showed mercy before. I let a man live who dishonored myself and the king. And for that, you both must think of me as soft.” He spared Bramble’s corpse a glance. Then he walked closer to Sansweet.

The cowardly man fell backwards, trying to crawl away while keeping his eyes on his executioner. But his chains and fear left him with very little coordination. He gave one final cry as the prince raised the hammer above his head, winding up and then swinging. People jumped in front of Yulia to get a better look at the result. She couldn’t see the point of impact but she heard the sickening crunch of crushed bone. Prince Steven walked away, the hammer resting against his shoulder as he approached the two thrones.

The king rose and there was a hush and then a gasp as he knelt and kissed the prince’s hand. Yulia knew they were passionate lovers. She’d seen it with her own eyes. But not everyone was so lucky to have caught them in a secret embrace. Today was a display of love as much as it was of power. To show that their king was truly devoted to this prince, that the courtship wasn’t just a trite thing between nobilities, and that Prince Steven would indeed rule by King Edward’s side one day soon.

The king then addressed the families of the criminals, saying that since there was no evidence of their corroboration, they were considered innocent. They wouldn’t face palace justice but having a family member executed could be quite the stain on one’s lineage. Everyone knew about the kidnapping when the king presented the duke’s head to them. But no one had known he had tried to force himself onto the prince until just now.

Yulia watched as the bodies were carted off, to be left in the forest for the demobeasts, and thought that perhaps they had gotten off too easy.

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

Steve sat before the vanity, dressed for bed and brushing his hair. He knew Eddie was watching him from the bed. He was pretending to read a book but Steve knew when he was being watched. And now, thanks to the trial, he had a feeling about what had been on Eddie’s mind.

“What Bramble said today about me, is it true?”, he asked, meeting Eddie’s gaze in his reflection.

“You know he told nothing but lies.”

“I meant…he talked about when I’m gone…” Steve had never really been the kind to think far into the future. When he imagined being married to Eddie, he imagined them as they were now. But it wouldn’t always be like that, would it? Steve would grow old.

“I don’t like to think about you being gone”, Eddie confessed. “And damn him for bringing it up when it had no bearing on the case.”

“You wouldn’t have nothing”, Steve said, turning around. “You always make new friends, new companions-”

“But I wouldn’t have you”, Eddie closed the book and got up from the bed, prompting Steve to get to his feet too. “I wouldn’t have you and I don’t want a life without you.”

“I’m sure you thought the same about your uncle.”

Eddie smiled. “Wayne was born an old man. He was practically waiting for me to get old enough to be on my own before shuffling off this mortal coil with an ‘I’ll be seein’ you, son’. But you…”

“….Me?”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hands. “I don’t want to watch you leave. I don’t want to be without you. If you die, I’d follow.”

“Eddie….” No one had ever said anything so heartbreakingly romantic to him. “I don’t want to be without you either. Not even in the after life. If I could fight death I would.”

“Don’t say that love, you’ll give me ideas”, Eddie said, bringing their foreheads together.

“What kind of ideas?”

With a sigh, Eddie shook his head. “Nothing good. Nothing you’d want.”

“Who are you to tell me what I want?”

“Immortality can be lonely, my sweet.”

“Only if you have no one to share it with.”

Eddie pulled back a bit to look into Steve’s eyes. “Do you understand what you’re asking for?”

“I can only ask if it’s something you can give”, Steve replied.

There was a long silence as Eddie saw all of the possibilities in Steve's eyes. He leaned back in, putting their foreheads together as he cradled Steve's face. "I want to give you everything", he whispered.

"Then do it", Steve whispered back, their lips brushing with every word. "And don't hold back."

Part 44

Taglist CLOSED

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent  @snakeorsquid  @ignoremyworld  @theclichefortunecookie 

@goodolefashionedloverboi  @just-a-tiny-void  @0body0disphoria0  @cinnamon-mushroomabomination  @samsoble 

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@justdrugsformethanks  @potato-of-the-lord  @notaqueenakhaleesi  @swimmingbirdrunningrock  @queenie-ofthe-void 

@nebulainajar  @lil-gremlin-things  @nicememerino  @robininblue  @hornedqueenofhell 

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@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane @puppy-stevee

[elizais]

black and blue

pm!reader x chuuya summary: reader comes back from a long mission exhausted, hurt/comfort, chuuya takes care of you warnings: alcohol, injuries

mori knew you would be gone for a few weeks, but chuuya knew you would be gone for too long. everyone knew about you and chuuya, staying in their line but always discussing how the executive who put people in their place was with the only ray of sunshine in the organisation. executive nakahara did care for his subordinates, but didn't show it like you did. you weren't open about how you joined but everyone had their theories because it didn't add up compared to your kind nature. only a few people knew why you were there, you didn't dwell on it. you didn't enjoy this line of work but you done it to protect the city you held so dear to your heart.

you had been at the port mafia for so long your only boss was mori, you stood with the executives. fortunately, this meant less missions away and taking care of your people in your section. unfortunately.. this meant the most important assignments went to your level. it just so happened to be that your specialised skills were the only ones to fit this task. it was dropped on you at an executives meeting. mori sat in his chair at the end of the table. looking up and down his sheet of paper, every last executive bored to death.

you looked at chuuya across from you, finishing your doodle with a smile. elise was sat next to you and the other side of you was kouyou. you lifted up the notepad so that chuuya saw the blank side of it and you nudged elise. she began to laugh at your very unflattering drawing of a carrot wearing a hat. knowing exactly who it was directed to. in the middle of entertaining elise, mori spoke again after inspecting details on the document that could upset a room in seconds.

he cleared his throat as he said, "there is an incredibly strong organisation emerging in another city. it will have to be taken down by one of you guys." he paused as he inspected the faces of the people who carried this city on their shoulders with him.

despite your playful nature, mori knew better than most how serious you could be for the sake of your home. "it will be y/n." he watched elise's face drop almost as fast as the colour drained from chuuya's face. no matter the amount of protesting from other executives, elise, even the lowest members (most likely only caring because chuuya is less likely to be angry when you are around). mori had told you that in two days time, you would leave for at least a week.

and that is what lead you to now. chuuya had been noticeably off his game for the past 12 days, everyone knew the reason. no contact was allowed at all. but, as he settled in to being back at the large penthouse after another long day, the home your paychecks covered more than comfortably, that felt a little larger now. the man got up to pour himself a glass of wine, allowing the screen on the wall to load up. as he sat back down and flicked through the mindless tv shows on, a groan came from behind the elevator after the familiar noise of an incorrect code, and then the ding of the correct one. his body immediately knew who it was, his face lit up and he forgot about everything bad in the world.

until, the person who he wished he could always be around was looking at him through bloodshot eyes surrounded by ominous dark circles. his idea of happiness and all things lovely was leaning on the wall for support with an unusual unkempt look.

his love looked like she fought a bear in the elevator, she saw him for the first time and allowed her tired face to use the last of her energy to smile. he immediately ran over to you. you had sunk against the wall with your legs in front of you. chuuya thought he was under a horrible ability until you spoke to him "i missed you, chu.." you spoke croaky, weak and coarse. your broken voice pierced his heart with the shards it left in the air.

your scalp had dried blood clinging to it, every other inch of your body scraped and scratched. he was thankful there weren't any deeper wounds, other than the one that appeared inside of him. "c'mere doll," he spoke to you, barely above a whisper. despite what many think, he is still exceptionally strong without his ability. seamlessly, he picked you up from under your shoulders, pressing your chest to his and allowing your head to look over his shoulder. "let's get you a bath." he finished as he carried your body through the corridors of your home.

he was thankful that your 'expensive taste in bathrooms' (as he always teased) lead to large, marble counters attached to the wall, so he could let you sit on them and lean against the wall as he ran the water into the corner bathtub you also insisted on getting. "do you want to talk about it?" he asked you with his sympathetic tone. "mori was not joking when he said they were strong.." you tried to laugh out but it came out emotionless as you looked at chuuya grabbing the bandages in the cupboard. "you don't need to try and keep everyone in a good mood at the cost of your own, y/n" he responded with his back turned to you.

"aren't those the ones dazai has for when he comes over for a movie night?" you dodged his previous statement with your question. chuuya scowled at the mention of his name even though you know he trusts him.

"yes, they are. damn mackerel always inviting himself over." he spoke as he grabbed a washcloth to gently clean your face whilst taking off your clothing. you knew he wasn't doing it in a sexual manner and was genuinely worried. "did you take down their boss?" he spoke after a comfortable silence. "barely." you sighed.

after he cleaned the dried dirt off with the washcloth, he lifted you into the bath and soon he followed suit, grabbing a gentle shampoo, the matching conditioner for your hair, and a hairbrush. he was not sure if you even saw the state your hair that you love dearly was in.

as he sat down by you in the tub, he turned your head so he could brush your hair, gently wetting it so that it would be easier to get through. you leaned back, almost falling asleep. he didn't mention the jagged cuts in your hair or the thinner patches. he could tell you were in a close combat fight and his heart broke. chuuya assumed you hadn't seen your hair yet, he didn't ask as you had finally steadied yourself since arriving home.

he didn't notice you falling asleep until your head fell to his chest, using his gravity manipulation to keep you sat upright without noticing as he finished taking care of your hair.

eventually, he dried your body and hair whilst moving you with his ability so you could stay asleep. waking up the next morning in your bed like you should.

[some-pers0n]

Hey, I really like your WOF rants so. Pick any character to talk about if you want. I will listen *sits on a couch with some popcorn*

I think the Jerboa chapters are the best things to come out of all of arc 3, perhaps even the whole series. I honestly wish it was its own separate winglet entirely tbh since I think it's a little jarring in TDG since it goes from pretty light-hearted, albeit tragic and somber bits of Snowfall trying to make it through becoming a queen whilst all this stuff is going on, and then it very quickly veers into This

I'm always a big sucker for animus magic being taken to its fullest potential. The user is essentially given god-like abilities with arguably zero drawbacks. The only thing that can corrupt is your own morality and mind. It's nice good horror to me. I liked the SeaWing massacre and everything that Darkstalker did, but it never felt far enough. The closest was Fierceteeth being warped and sculpted by Darkstalker to resemble Clearsight and him constantly rewriting her personality to try and act like the Clearsight he loves (which can never exist because of how far gone he's gone)

The Jerboa chapters deliver on that and more. It's subtle too. It isn't wholly in your face, instead being a revelation that Boa has been altered and changed an unfathomable amount of times by her own mother in order to be the perfect child. The way Jerboa sees Boa is unsettling with how little love there was. Boa was more of a source of cheap entertainment for Jerboa as opposed to an actual daughter. The way she has to check constantly to see if she even still likes Boa and uses it as a means to prove that she's definitely 100% still all there is so so so good. Not to also mention the fact that Boa is the second attempt at a child. We don't talk about Jerboa II (which makes it far more ominous)(oouhohohhh it's so good)

I just really think the chapter is a great display of Tui's ability to write characterization. In such a short amount of time, we have such a clear-cut idea as to what kind of a character Jerboa is. It's really fun and so neat and creepy. Really love it. Wish we got more of it...

[sunflowersandsapphires]

The Sun Will Rise

Wake Up, Chapter 8

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In an attempt to stop the advances of an unwanted suitor, Matt Murdock accidentally condemns you to being his fake girlfriend.

warnings: sexual assault themes and descriptions, if non-con themes trigger you please do not read. other warnings: swearing, misogynistic language, violence

This chapter is very intense. I tried to keep the S/A stuff as not graphic as possible to avoid triggering people but it is very much there and the violence is more present than any other chapter.

a/n: Today has been a fucking DAY yall. My new cat got sick (he’s ok he just ate too fast and then got sick on me and my bed which was gross), I am having issues with pay equity at work, and trying to deal with utility issues in my house. I am very sorry for the late update. PLEASE let me know how you feel about this chapter, your comments and reblogs literally make my day every week. 

w/c: ~4.5k

Four years ago, you’d been desperate for a change.  Despite spending thousands on a fancy degree, you had gotten nowhere in the legal field and your job waiting tables at a diner in Queens barely paid the bills, though you were grateful for the work. 

Pouring coffee and taking orders wasn’t the worst job you’d ever had and the majority of customers during your shifts were sweet. You played the role of “cute, friendly waitress” well, making even the grouchiest patrons appreciate your soft smile and quick response time. Maybe this persona you’d adopted in your efforts to avoid your crippling anxiety was the reason he started looking your way. Perhaps it was your obvious desperation to be liked. Whatever it was that drew his attention, it was your eventual disinterest that kept it. 

The first day you met James Lannister was a shitty one. You’d worked a double shift, meaning you had been less than perky towards the end of it, leading to stupid mistakes and screaming customers. Emotions were running high when he took a seat in your section, so his calm demeanor and attentive smile drew you in. 

He’d only made pleasant conversation with you the first few visits. Asking about your day, your week, your hobbies, your interests, your family, your aspirations. Anyone would’ve been eager to spill their guts to him, he was quite charming. The way that his green eyes pooled with fascination as you spoke was almost reverent. No man in your life had ever made you feel that way, like nothing else in the room mattered. 

Which is why the red flags zipped right by you without triggering your internal security system. Day after day, he’d visit your place of work after his own shift at the Pro Bono Association. He’d ask his questions and encourage you to ask your own, which led to a standing invitation to sit with him when there was a lull in traffic at the restaurant. Your shared interest in the legal system and his willingness to share a slice of that life with you compelled you to take him up on the offer. 

Next came the gifts. Little things, at first. Large tips, suggestions for weekend entertainment complete with a gift card or fully funded ticket, books to further your legal studies after work. It was strange, but the attention was divine. He wasn’t an ugly man, and you’d never felt noticed like this before. 

Eventually, he’d goaded you into joining him and his wife for dinner at their house. Mrs. Lannister was beautiful and cunning. On the surface, she was always polite, reassuring, more than willing to host you or have you join them in public, but there was an ominous undercurrent that you never could place. The way she looked at you when her husband turned his back was almost murderous, but you were so caught up in the idea of being wanted that you glossed over the tension between the two of you. 

You were lonely, sure, but you never wanted romance or…other things…from Lannister. To you, he was a mentor, an idol. Someone to live vicariously through while in a transition period in life. But after accepting all of his kindnesses, you’d unknowingly crossed a line. 

Before it all fell apart, it almost seemed like universal intervention. During a seemingly mundane conversation, Lannister clasped his hands over yours with a giddy expression. It seemed that there was an entry level position opening up at the PBA office in Queens and he thought you’d be perfect for it. Not only would it be a substantial pay raise from your current position, but there were opportunities for growth and he would be your boss. 

At the time, it felt like a miracle. Your ticket to the next stage of your life. And it was, but letting your guard down for that shark ended up being the biggest regret of your life. 

Transitioning into your new role wasn’t seamless, but you took it in stride. Your eagerness to take on complex projects and expand the mission of the organization impressed the more seasoned employees. Lannister began taking you to lunches, galas, drinks, anywhere that he could introduce you to his network of attorneys. It was thrilling to be thrown into the world you’d always dreamed of and received with such open arms. 

For a few months, it was pure bliss. Until the night you placed your first case. 

Placing the case itself was unproblematic, you were happy that you fit into the role so well—and you expressed such sentiments to Lannister who invited you over to his house to celebrate. Arriving with a bottle of your favorite wine, it was immediately clear that something had changed. The once cozy house was in absolute disarray, riddled with empty liquor bottles and boxes of feminine clothes. And, although Lannister had implied there would be others there, you found him alone. 

Lannister noticed your wandering eyes and explained that his wife had left him. He told you not to worry about that and to focus on your personal success. The two of you enjoyed some good food and cheap wine, the older man drifting closer by the glass. Eventually, you felt your eyes growing heavy and he insisted that you stay over given the late hour. 

That night, you dreamt of a large shadow, looking over you while you slept, warm touch dancing over your clothes. You tried to protect yourself, but your arms wouldn’t respond to the commands your brain sent. When you woke up, you found your skirt unzipped. 

It got blurry after that. Lannister’s very public divorce led to inopportune inebriation, massive hangovers in the office, lewd comments, and wandering hands. While you still accompanied him to events, he began claiming you in public in increasingly repulsive ways. Holding you by the waist, kissing your cheeks, stroking his fingers over your neck, using that disgusting pet name. My little Princess. 

You only tried expressing your discomfort once before it escalated. You’d approached him in his office after lunch, when he was likely to be more sober, and hesitantly asked if he would consider pulling back. You’d been met with the most terrifying display of anger you’d ever seen. You hazily recall books being thrown, hits landing along your arms and torso, insults being hurled at you. 

He had made you. You would be nothing without him. You were ungrateful and whoreish and conniving just like his wife. While the memories faded, the scars from your skin splitting over the hinges of his office door still shone in certain lights. 

After that his actions were deliberate. His lingering touches scalded you. Being alone with him meant sentencing yourself to torture. When he was angry, he’d call you into his office to “talk it through.” To your absolute horror, these talks often involved a locked door and drunk hands groping your trembling form. 

For weeks you endured his abrupt switches between calculated insults, physical abuse, emotional manipulation, and inappropriate contact. You were barely alive, going through the motions and slowly convincing yourself that you deserved it. You’d fallen out of contact with your friends, were so emotionally fragile that a stern look from a stranger could send you into a panic attack, and you found yourself so nauseous that the first few hours of each day were spent hugging a toilet. 

It was clear you needed help, but Lannister was your boss and his threats terrified you. He’d made it clear that if anyone found out about his behavior, it would cost you your livelihood. As an incredibly well-known attorney with an impeccable record, there was no way you’d win in court, he had too many friends on the force or the bench. Not to mention how new you were to the organization. Despite his growing alcoholism, your coworkers were as enamored with Lannister as you used to be, the chances of them believing you were minimal. 

So, you stayed, trapped in a nightmare of your own unintentional creation. Until a position opened up in Manhattan. 

Applying on a whim, you’d kept your application a secret, not expecting to even get an interview. But, apparently the managing attorney across the East River had heard your name through the grapevine because she reached out within the week to schedule a lunch with you. 

The heavy weight that hung over your shoulders like a shadow has lessened considerably in the days leading up to the lunch. The possibility of escaping the hell you were living in quickly appeared like the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Manhattan was beautiful and the employees of the PBA office in Midtown were ecstatic to meet you. It was the best day you’d had in months, until you got back to your own office. 

Realizing you’d forgotten an important file you needed for a clinic the next day, you walked briskly through the quiet building, hoping to get in and out without running into your supervisor. Unfortunately, the world was not that gracious. 

As you rummaged through your desk, the overhead lights turned on making you flinch. Your hands stilled over the file cabinet, your breath catching on your throat. 

“You little bitch.” Lannister was furious if the rage dripping from his tone was any indication. “Tell me, Princess, why did I receive a call from Midtown about how happy they were to have finally met my assistant?”

You couldn’t speak, your throat constricting as if wrapped with fabric. Frozen in place, you heard him approaching and you cowered. 

“Thought you could go behind my back? Leave me high and dry without a warning? You owe me, little princess. After all I’ve done for you…”

Whether from fear or something else entirely, your brain blocked out the rest of his actions that night. You came to shaking on the floor, bloody and partially undressed, but you weren’t alone. Lannister had disappeared, thankfully, but your coworker stepped into your office with a shaky inhale. 

Erica was a young attorney who’d started a few weeks before you. Your emotional state had made it difficult to grow close to anyone in the office, but she’d always seemed sweet. And, fortunately for you in the end, she’d heard the commotion your boss had caused before storming home. 

As your wonderful coworker helped you clean yourself up, you tearily confessed the secrets you’d worked so hard to hide. Disgusted, Erica had encouraged you to speak to HR and you’d submitted a complaint later that day with her assistance. 

You owed Erica a great debt. Over the period of the investigation, she’d become a fixture in your office, making sure to keep you at a distance from your abuser. Without your prompting, she’d offered the committee looking into the allegations her full testimony. You were quite certain that her statement is the reason Lannister was fired. 

In the weeks following his termination, you felt like a new woman. You’d moved to a cute little place in Hell’s Kitchen and begun your new work as a volunteer coordinator. While you still struggled with crowds of lawyers and the taste of alcohol, a good therapist and a decent amount of time had helped you heal a considerable amount. 

Enough to open yourself up for the possibility of a relationship, which you weren’t sure you’d ever want after everything you’d been through. Meeting Matt had changed that though, turning ‘never’ into a ‘not right now’. 

Sweet, considerate, adorable Matt who had brought you more comfort than you ever thought you deserved. Who was probably still furious with you for falling for him, but you couldn’t help but plead with the universe to send him anyway. Please, Matty, please come for me. 

As the muggy van rumbled over potholes and uneven roads, you pictured his beautiful face. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. How his brow furrowed with concern over the most minor harm that had befallen you. The beautiful way his lips melded with yours as a single kiss made you feel weightless. You regretted not kissing him one last time before ruining what you had. 

I’m sorry, darling. Please don’t let them take me from you. I’m not ready to let you go just yet. 

As Matt neared the 4th floor, a knawing pit of dread grew in his stomach. He could smell your tears, newer than those that had fallen after he’d left, but your heartbeat was nowhere to be found. Frantically pacing the hallway, he quickly noticed your suitcase abandoned a few feet from the door to your shared room. Crouching down, he tilted his head, evaluating the scene. The scent of your fear coated the floor, walls, and fabric of your bag. You must have been terrified for it to penetrate your surroundings to that degree. Underneath your pheromones, Matt shuddered with rage as the sickly saccharine fragrance of Beatrice Snyder’s reached his sensitive nose. Mingling with her perfume was a different smell, smoky and dark. 

You’d been cornered by Snyder and an unidentified man, he was sure of it. Fumbling to find the right end of his key card, he threw open the door and stripped out of his suit. Given that he’d intended to share the night with you, he’d intentionally left his body armor at home. A black long sleeve tee and scarf around his face would have to do tonight. 

Stepping back into the empty hallway, he fled to the stairs. While the scent of your fear only fueled his dark anger, it was strong enough to leave a trail down the stairs and out the back door into the cool night air. As inconspicuously as possible, Matt navigated through the building, dodging employees and guests successfully until he reached the loading dock behind the kitchen. Your scent stopped here, replaced by the smell of gasoline. 

No, no, no. Where are you, angel? What happened to you? 

Matt growled in frustration, spinning around desperately searching for any sign of you, he ripped his phone out of his pocket and pressed your speed dial, hoping that you could still reach your phone. 

Receiving nothing but your voicemail message in return, he felt his fists clench. “It’s going to be ok, my beautiful girl. I’m coming.” 

Replacing the phone in his pocket, he took off in the direction of the strong scent of auto fuel, praying to God that the most recent vehicle would lead him to you. 

The van jolted to an abrupt stop and you slid along the dirty carpet into a seat in front of you. Your back ached from the jostling you’d gotten on the ride to whatever destination you’d apparently arrived at, and you could feel the imprint of thousands of plastic carpet strands that had melded with the flesh on your cheek during the drive. The sound of car doors slamming and the heavy footfalls following made you strain against your binds one final time. 

A large, rough hand snatched your ankle, yanking you towards the night air at the tail end of the vehicle. Kicking your legs wildly, you flopped like a dying fish along the carpet as you were slowly pulled outside. The fingers at your ankle moved to wrap around your throat, forcing the airway to constrict. Struggling fiercely against your captor, you heard a familiar, rasping voice from behind you snarl, “Shut her up, you idiot!” 

Lannister’s goon pressed a sharp implement against the soft flesh of your stomach. “Keep movin’ and you’ll lose a lot more than your man, bitch.” 

As your squirming died down, reality set in and tears began flooding down your face. It was over. He’d won. All of the efforts that went into putting distance between the two of you were meaningless. He’d found you, and Snyder was going to take Matt from you because of it. 

You were roughly stood on your feet and forced to move in the trail of Lannister and his other goon. Eventually, you were forced into a cold metal chair, binds attached to the stiff bars of the furniture. Your blindfold was ripped off, though your gag remained. James Lannister’s ferocious grin appeared in your line of vision, making you flinch. “So glad we’ve been reunited, Princess. We’re gonna have some fun.” 

The group had taken you to what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. There were broken wooden palettes and scraps of steel scattered around the floor. Holes in the sheet metal walls allowed cold, winter air to blow crisp waves of wind through the space, raising the hairs on your neck. A gaping hole in the roof above you showers you in moonlight, illuminating a small s circle around you and Lannister. 

A knife glinted in your peripheral vision and you whimpered, squirming involuntarily. Lannister grabbed a fistful of your shirt, yanking you forward with a growl. “The more you squirm, the more damage I do, little princess. I’d hold still if I were you.” 

With that warning, he slashed a jagged cut in your top, nicking the skin along your collarbone. A hand ran over your hair, grasping the strands and tugging so that your face was turned towards your captor’s once again. “There’s my obedient little pet. Was wondering where she’d gone.” 

Bile rose in your throat as Lannister stroked his massive hands along your face, planting heated, bourbon-soaked kisses along your neck and down your chest. Prying away your torn clothes, he turned to face the goons. “Is it ready?” 

“Yes, sir.” One deep voice responded from the shadows of the warehouse beyond your visible surroundings. “Before I have my fun,” Lannister stepped aside, revealing a tall dark shape topped with a blinking red light. “I’d like to record a confession, dear. For my sanity, and for the board to know the truth.” 

Raising his barely slurred voice, he turned to the camera. 

“State your name, for the record.”

“Please don’t do this. I don’t—“ Your pleading morphed into a screech of pain as the point of the blade ripped a gash in the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

“Wrong answer, pet.” Lannister took a swig from a practically empty bottle of liquor that had seemingly materialized out of thin air. A trail of blood wormed its way to the cement floor, pooling at your feet. You stared at the river of red liquid for a moment before stammering out your name. 

“That’s a good pet. What’s your relation to me, my dear?” Chucking the now empty bottle aside, it shattered at your feet, spraying you with cheap alcohol and pieces of glass. 

“I worked with you. In Queens.” A smaller knife plunged into the meat of your thigh and you screamed in agony. The larger of the two goons shuffled into your wavering vision, smiling as he wiped your blood from his hands. 

“More specific, Princess.” Lannister spat at you. 

“You were my boss.” 

“That’s right. Now tell us, how did you get me fired?” 

You sobbed, “I didn’t, I wasn’t—“ Grasping the knife still planted in your leg, Lannister twisted it, grabbing your throat. 

“Yes you did, you miserable bitch. You ruined my fucking life. I lost my divorce settlement, my job, my house, my reputation. All because I took an ungrateful slut under my wing.” Ripping the blade from your body, he hurled you to the ground. 

“TELL THE TRUTH!” Lannister roared, sending a brutal kick into your chest and knocking the air from your lungs. “Tell them that you seduced me for months and then used me to land a promotion. TELL THEM THAT YOU TOOK MY ENTIRE LIFE FROM ME AFTER I’D GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING!”

Stomping over your body again, he stumbled backwards allowing you to cough out a response. “I—I took everything f-from you. I was un-ungrateful.” 

Lannister cackled, pulling you from the ground by your uninjured arm. “Turn the camera off. They won’t want to see this next part.” 

The goons stepped forward to follow your former boss’s orders, but a piercing sound from outside halted them in their tracks. A horrific shriek, the sound of metal grinding on metal, echoed through the warehouse. All three men froze, looking to each other as if expecting to find the cause of the noise at the hands of their fellow assholes. Dropping you hard onto your shoulder, Lannister turned towards the source of the creaking and your head lolled after him.

As the door to the warehouse slammed open, you cried in relief as your weak gaze made out the black clad figure against the night sky. Daredevil. Your devil. He came for you. Tears poured down your cheeks and your limbs tensed, Matt’s presence drawing you in like a magnet. 

Lannister huffs out a laugh. “The fuck do you want, shadow man? Don’t you have robberies to stop?” At his sides, the other men shuffled nervously, knives gripped firmly as they awaited their next command. 

Matt stalked forward into the warehouse, his body stiff as it held his rage back, visible tension like that of water building against a dam. Fists clenched, he prowled an arc around your three kidnappers. “Step the fuck away from her.” His deep timbre was pitched exceedingly low with pure fury and it sent ripples of goosebumps across your bare skin. 

Drawing the handgun from the back pocket of his slacks, Lannister stepped towards you once more. “Do your worst, Devil. She’s not leaving here alive.” The world slowed, as if the air around you was suddenly thick as molasses. Your eyes were processing as much as they could as dread settled in your stomach. The barrel of the gun moved across Lannister’s body and pointed at you as his meaty thumb cocked the weapon. 

Simultaneously, Matt’s athletic form rocketed forward, skillfully dodging the swings from both of your unnamed assailants and leaping at Lannister. A gunshot rang and you traced the bullet as it soared towards you. Suddenly, your vision went white as pain seared through your body following the pointed metal cylinder as it tore through your abdomen. Screaming in anguish, your ears rang with a high pitched tone, the flash of white across your sight fading to black. The only thing you could focus on was the burning agony as the puddle of your blood seeped into your torn clothes. Forcefully shutting your eyes, your inhales turned shallow, and you prayed to your beloved Matthew that he would get you out of here before you took your last breath. 

Matt’s skin was alight with rage as he maniacally tore through the three brutes to reach your collapsed form. The head captor’s words barely registered in his ears over the deafening sound of a gun being pulled. No. Do not let it be her, take me. The safety was undone as Matt ripped one man’s shoulder from its socket, using the falter in his steps to knock him unconscious. He needed to be faster. He had to reach you. Planting a hefty kick into the next guy’s stomach, he brought his billy club up to meet the force of the man’s own body weight bringing him down. A hollow thud of a body on cement meant there was one attacker left. And then came the gunshot. 

As the bullet escaped the barrel it was encased in, Matt roared, the devil inside him fully consuming his consciousness as tackled the shooter. Knuckles connected with a jawbone, then the softer cartilage of a nose, then the lumpy space of a rib cage. Matt poured every emotion he had into this criminal, each punch holding seeds of guilt and regret and desperation. 

The smell of your blood cascading over the dirty floor broke him from his trance. Dropping the battered body of your captor to the floor, he dove beside you, hands hovering over your body as he assessed the damage. 

Sobbing in relief, he cupped your face as gently as he could. “It’s ok, angel. You’re gonna be ok. They’re not gonna hurt you anymore. Just breathe with me, please sweetness, breathe.” 

Your shallow pants stuttered as your hand weakly grasped his shirt. “Ma-Matty?” 

“Yah sweetness, it’s me. I’m right here. Gonna get you out of here, ok? Just hold on.” Ripped a strip of fabric from his shirt, he pressed it over your largest wound, biting back a pained sound of his own when you hissed. “I know, I know, angel. I have to stop the bleeding.” 

The soft smell of salt melded with the metallic odor of your blood. You were crying, holding on to the fistful of his shirt like it was a lifeline. “Y-you came for me? I’m—I’m so-sorry” 

Stroking your face lightly before he dialed 911, he cooed. “Of course I came, lovely. I’ll always come for you. Always. Now you just focus on breathing. In and out, sweetness. Good girl, just like that.” 

At the operator’s greeting, he spit out a rough command for police and an ambulance, giving a brief description of the events that had happened. Next, he pleaded for their help. There was no way he alone could get you to a hospital in time. 

“They were holding her hostage. She’s been shot, stabbed too. Lost a lot of blood. She’s still alive but she needs medical attention, please hurry.” He spit out the approximate location, scrubbing tears from his face as he pocketed his phone. 

Pressing his forehead to yours delicately, he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my sweet girl. It’s going to be ok. I’m so sorry.” Your hand raised shakily to cradle his nape. 

“Matty,” Your voice was weak, but determined. “I—I need you to know—“ 

“Hey, this isn’t one of those moments, sweet girl. You can tell me later, when you’re healing. You focus on—“ 

“No, please.” You begged, he fought back a choked cry so that you could say your piece. 

“I love you. S-so much.” You heaved a breath.  “I’m sorry that I ruined—“

“Shh, you didn’t ruin anything.” Matt chided gently, tears slipping faster after you'd confirmed his previous mistake. “I love you too, my wonderful, sweet girl. I won’t let them take you from me. I won’t.” 

“I’m sorry.” You choked out, and then you fell out of consciousness. 

Matt collapsed against your chest, clinging to the sound of your weak pulse as his body trembled with sobs. He planted soft kisses to your hair and cheeks, stroking lightly over your skin as he willed God to save you. 

The distant sound of sirens forced Matt to pry his face from your pummeled body. As the sound of vehicles approached, he made sure to alert the paramedics to your presence before taking back to the shadows. Hearing the clamor of attendants around you, he made a promise. “I’ll be there when you wake, angel. I’m sorry.”

Taglist: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @scoliobean @harperdoodle @mattkinsella @leikelle @sweetbee0108 @dark-night-sky-99 @fallen-angels2213 @will-delete-this-later-probably @cheshirecat484 @thornbushrose @vernon-dursley

[ask-postcrash-curly]

Hello as always, dear. Kind Words.

I was just lost in thought over something that I wished to share with you. Perhaps it will lighten your mind a bit. Many of these voices seem to be growing more... audacious. Restless, in all too unpleasant a manner. I certainly haven't been very appreciative of it; the last thing you (or I...) need is more anxiety.

Regardless... do you remember how I've said I love birds? I do, I do. As you might recall, my son is named Kestrel - which are a subspecies of falcon! But truly it begins with my mother, whose name was Dove, when she named me for one of her favorite birds. Would you like to guess what kind? I'll give you a hint: It is a sweet little songbird with a yellow beak, gray wings, and sunset-red belly! They are known for their small and strikingly blue-colored eggs. (If you can guess correctly, you'll earn three Warbler points! Hahah!)

Anyhow, I've been reminiscing over a story my mom told to me when I was a child. We used to live where the night sky was quite dark, you see - perfect for the stars to really come out and shine. Well, she once said that the stars were actually the spirits of birds who had flown too high into the sky, and had gotten lost forever. And the sparkling of these birds' wings soon became a signal to remind all the other birds here on Earth not to fly too high. She liked to call them "starlings." (Yes, those are also real birds! They are quite beautiful.)

After she told me that, I wandered out into the yard that night and gazed up into the star-filled sky... and I began to just cry my little eyes out! "Oh, those poor lost birds! They must be so lonely up there!" I remember being an inconsolable mess for hours! My poor mom must have felt terrible about it, because she tried to reassure me that they weren't lonely at all; that the moon was their nest, and every morning before the sun came up they all flew back to it to sleep together during the daytime. I believe that is finally what soothed me enough to calm down, haha! It is quite a fond memory, despite how it may sound.

Mom passed a few years ago... but she always told me that when her time came, she would be reborn as a mourning dove and visit me again someday. I have been spending a lot of time outside waiting for her since. I'm sorry - perhaps that sounds a bit silly. It is a comforting thought more than anything, I think. I like to hope...

I've found myself thinking of that story a lot nowadays, though. More since she passed, and ever-more over the last few weeks. My precious starlings... I've entertained the thought that perhaps that is how we have been able to hear one another? That they are passing our thoughts from ground to sky and back, like divine carrier pigeons delivering prayers. I know that sounds like the nonsense ramblings of some sentimental old woman, and perhaps it is so! But until someone gives me a better answer, that is what I will believe! 🕊️

Hello again!

I've noticed that, yeah. Can't say I'm a fan of the vague ominousness either. Been doing a decent job of tuning it out, at least.

Yeah, yeah, I was wondering if that was what the name came from. Couldn't remember which bird it was though. Wow, three generations of bird names is sure something. Hmm. Would that be... Robin? That's a nice name. Suits you. (What are Warbler points??)

I've lived in places like that. You don't get those views anywhere else. They're peaceful. ...Lost bird spirits? Huh, that's a new one. Your mother sounds imaginative!

Aww, no... I don't blame you. That's a dark outlook if you think of it too hard, yeah? Sweet twist on it though. Imagine that. All those little starlings huddled together in the moon. Hah.

Oh, I— I'm so sorry for your loss. I can't imagine. No, no, don't be sorry. I don't think it's silly. We need these things to cling to, yeah? To— to feel we're not alone, somehow. And who knows? Maybe your mourning dove will turn up for you soon.

That's... a nice thought. Nicer than most of what I've come up with, anyways. Wish we'd heeded their warnings not to fly too far... Hah. Thank you for the story. It was nice, and I mean that. Hope you're doing okay down there. Take care of yourself, yeah?

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.6

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - The day of the Mourning Ceremony has arrived. Shanda has followed through on her promise and gotten her and her two brothers out of attending. They make a trip to the Redfork to conduct their own ceremony.

Warnings - fem!reader, suspense, mentions of injuries, adult language, period typical misogyny, condescension, adult language, complicated family dynamics, feud behavior, benjicot brainrot, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 3.7k

Bit of a chonky chapter. But I’m setting up for some very entertaining scenes and there’s a lot of context to establish first. Per GoT/HotD fashion, no one can ever have too good of a time without something happening. This is very true here.

!MINORSDNI!

Shanda stared out her window, watching the drops of rain run down the glass slowly. Thunder rolled over the castle in waves, the sky a pit of shadows reflecting the somber mood of the day. There was no wind that day, giving the air a stagnant feel and bells rangs in long ominous tones, giving a haunted mood to everything. She was dressed in a long white gown, the sleeves nearly dragging the ground alongside her. A gold belt around her waist was her only accessory, her hair hung in waves around her shoulders. She did not have the heart to look in the mirror, afraid to see her mother’s ghost looking back at her.

Her mother had died in an ambush on the Kings road two years ago while returning from Shipbreaker Bay. Imagine surviving the rough seas in a perilous journey and arriving to die on the “safest” road in the kingdom. There had been little evidence pointing towards the reason for the massacre either. Nothing had been taken from the carriage, no luggage disturbed. Her mother still wore all of her jewelry even. It was strange beyond measure and no one had yet stepped forward with any information. The carriage had been found by a passerby who had notified the nearest neighbor, who had brought news to them.

To say it had been devastating to their family would be an understatement. Her father never truly recovered from it and refused to mention her at all. Royce was worse of all though. He harbored a deep bitter hatred that he couldn’t seem to overcome over the matter. Given the circumstances, Shanda could see why. The mourning ceremony tended to use the deceased as religious symbols for the gods rather than celebrating their lives as individuals. Royce could not stand to hear their mother talked about like a saint.

So despite the oppressive mood hanging around the castle she felt excited still. She had managed to free herself, Royce and Martyn from the ceremony. The Septon had agreed they could just as easily conduct the mourning rites along the Redfork. Her father had insisted Martyn accompany them and that had suited her just fine. She’d get to leave the castle walls and free her brothers from the ceremony. They would share stories of their mother and maybe splash about the river before returning home. The main thing they had to do was wait long enough for the ceremony to end back home.

In the days that had passed since her last outing, the stormy weather had persisted. Some days it was merely a drizzle, others it raged and poured. But they did not see the sun for days and days. It was worrisome that the storms were here so early and so intensely. Late autumn storms weren’t uncommon but typically it would be sticky and hot in the river lands in the late summer. What’s more, the storms here rarely persist this many days. A storm would roll in, rage and then leave. Today’s soft pitter patter was tolerable for an outing.

She had instructed her brothers to meet her at the east gate, wanting to avoid their chances of being held up together before they left the castle. Her father would love to find a reason to delay them if he could. It was still very early and the morning fog covered everything. It was hard to make out which way she was going in the yard and only found her way to the east gate by memory.

“There you are sister, about time.” Royce snapped, clearly already agitated.

Martyn stood stoically beside him looking paler than ever. Okay, maybe her imagining them frockling in the river had been a tad bit optimistic given the day.

“Good to see you too brother. Martyn, are you feeling alright?”

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.” The glassy look in his eyes did not inspire confidence within her.

The three of them exited the eastern gate and Shanda began to lead them towards the river. She took care to lead them further east before cutting north. She wanted to avoid the center of the borderlands where conflict raged between the two houses. Her father had finally bothered to set his own guard in the borderlands, useless as they seemed. She hadn’t seen a single one since they’d set out. Where exactly where they guarding? Their guards seemed to be baited in fights every other day. And they were fights only, not a single death had occurred following the arrest warrant. Reports from the border indicated if they engaged to kill, the Blackwood guards would disarm them before beating their opponents bloody but perfectly alive. There had been a marked increase in broken arms however and that was a disturbing image for her.

They walked for ages, to avoid the Blackwoods, but also because she enjoyed being outside again. Even if one of her brothers looked on the verge of throwing up and the other practically had steam coming out of his ears. The tall grass was swaying softly and the ground wasn’t completely wet, giving them a semi solid surface to walk on. Occasionally a bird would swoop off in the distance, perhaps looking for a dryer spot.

“How long are we going to walk? Shouldn’t we be there?” Royce complained.

“I’ve led us further out, don't want anyone sneaking up on us do we?”

“Why bother? We’ve got Martyn. Right Martyn?”

Royce smacked his arm lightly as if he were jesting but his tone was too angry for it to work. Martyn just kept walking ahead, saying nothing and occasionally swallowing like he had too much spit in his mouth. That didn’t please Royce at all, who was clearly itching to fight someone. She was all the more thankful that she had led them away from the usual haunts of guards if that was the attitude her brother was going to be swinging around. Before he could muster up another snide remark the rushing sound of the river picked up and soon the sight of the blue water could be seen through the tall grass.

“See. Didn’t take us that long after all, Royce. Have some patience.” She said, trying to lighten the mood but he only shoved passed her towards the water.

She took the moment alone with Martyn to talk to him.

“Martyn, what’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

If it were possible, he turned even paler at her words.

“It was just a nightmare I had. Don’t worry about me, Shan. We better look after Royce before he tries to fight the river.”

Incredibly skeptical but unwilling to push him on the matter currently, she nodded. They joined Royce beside the river, he was crouched low his hand in the rushing water. He looked deep in thought.

Due to the rocky weather and the sheer amount of rain they’d received lately the river was moving quicker than she had ever seen it. The sound was so relaxing as it streamed downhill, she found herself wishing it would always rush like this.

“Do you want me to start?” She asked when her brother failed to move at all.

He stood abruptly though at the sound of her voice as if he had just remembered she was there.

“No. I’ll go first.” His voice was hoarse.

“Our mother was a great woman. She was kind and fierce and she loved us all. Though she had reason enough not to.”

Shanda smiled at his words. It was the happiest she had heard in him in a while.

“She was the glue that held our family together and I miss her everyday.”

“That’s really beau-“

Royce cut her off, his tone bitter and biting. “I’m not finished.”

Bewildered at his change in mood she motioned for him to continue.

“She was murdered by those filthy barbarians across the river and you keep frockling out here like they aren’t a bunch of bloodthirsty freaks!”

She was so taken aback she stood there for a moment, mouth agape.

“Whoa, hold on now. You asked me to get you out of the ceremony! I did that. You're welcome by the way, it was a lot of work. And I led us out of the way to avoid the Blackwoods. We also don’t know who killed our mother, that’s a serious accusation to make Royce.”

“Oh that’s rich. Are you seriously defending them right now?”

Shanda took a deep breath trying not to let her rising anger get the best of her as he moved closer and closer into her personal space.

“I’m not defending anyone, least of all those idiots. I’m simply pointing out that you can’t go around throwing around accusations of murder without any proof!”

“Their very existence is proof! Our father told you not to come out here and mess with them. And you just couldn’t help yourself. Now our guards come back covered in blood. What about that?” He pushed his finger sharply into her chest at his question and it was the last straw for her.

She pushed him back with a frustrated sigh escaping her. “Bloody and alive baby brother! They come back bloody and alive. Does that sound like the type of person to murder a woman in her carriage while she was defenseless? Just stop and think for a second would you! I came out here to try and help us. I actually want us to get ahead of them. That’s why I’m out here trying to find a way to bring them down. What have you been doing? Besides being a sulking angry little jerk of a child? Hm, what have you contri-“

Royce cut her off again this time screaming at her. “Shut up!” Then he ripped the sword Martyn had been loosely holding away from him and swung at her. She leapt out of the way at the last second, the sword only managing to nick her shoulder. If she’d stayed still he might’ve sliced her head off. That seemed to snap Martyn out of whatever spell he was in as he immediately began fighting Royce for the sword.

Martyn managed to rip the sword away from him, but Royce was bigger and knocked him onto the ground before turning his attention back to Shanda. The river was at her back and Royce approached her looking half crazed.

“You’re a disgrace to our house. And no sister of mine.”

And then he pushed her as hard as he could, sending her tumbling into the rushing river.

The water was colder than she expected. That was her first thought as her head broke the surface and she coughed up water. The current was sweeping her downstream and already she could barely see her brothers in the distance. Her second thought was that her dear brother was starting to get on her last nerve. I mean really, trying to cut her down with a sword? Kinslaying is the most cursed crime among the gods and he would commit it on the day of the mourning ceremony? He was an utterly lost cause.

She tried several times to pull herself out of the river but the current was much stronger than it looked. She was pulled underneath the water many times as the river bent and turned. Luckily Shanda was a pretty fair swimmer and she was always able to pull her head back above the water. She was pulled further than she ever could have dreamed before a fallen tree gave her the opportunity to pull herself out. She grabbed the low hanging branch and used it to pull herself up and out of the water. Her arms were shaking from swimming in the current for so long and she collapsed atop the tree, soaking wet and exhausted.

She lay there for longer than she should have but nowhere near as long as she would have liked. Eventually she forced herself to her feet, she had to find her way back home. She looked around at her surroundings hoping to see a familiar landmark that could help point her in the right direction. The river ran to the west and as she looked around it became clear she had traveled a great deal. She was too far downhill and would need to trek back up the river to have any hope of finding her way back. The trouble was, she had gotten so turned around while in the river, she wasn’t sure which side was the Bracken side. With the current that strong, she wouldn’t easily be able to cross if she happened to be on the wrong side.

She hadn’t brought anything with her. She was with her two brothers, what would she have brought? Royce was hurting that much was clear but his behavior was unacceptable. She was going to their father first thing when she got back. He would be furious with his behavior. Pushing her into the river, what a joke. She walked for a while before she started taking care not to be seen. She felt silly sneaking around in an empty field but it was always better to be cautious. The tall grass hid her well enough but the morning fog had thickened around the river providing her even more cover. Occasionally she would stop crawling to pop her head out and have a look around at her surroundings.

She traveled for what felt like an eternity before finally off in the distance she spotted the familiar copse of trees that marked the familiar territory of her part of the Redfork. She paused for a moment to rest once she spotted the trees. The sky had grown darker in the time it had taken her to come back. And she wondered if her brothers had made it back home yet. Whether her father had sent men out looking for her yet. She wished they would hurry up if they were looking for her. She bit back a yawn and began crawling in the grass again towards the gathering of trees. Wandering through the thick tendrils of grass she couldn’t help but hope she didn’t run into a wolf out here. Wouldn’t that top this day off as the worst one in a year?

Thankfully no wolves appeared and she reached the trees without incident. She carefully crawled inside before rising to her full height. She had done it! Now all she had to do was walk home. That normally would be an easy task but she was so tired and her entire body ached. Her head hurt and her throat was sore from coughing up river water. Her shoulder also burned from where Royce had cut her. It had stopped bleeding though and she considered that a blessing. Slowly and surely she began the grueling walk home. It took her twice as long as usual and she cursed herself for being so slow. She couldn’t will herself to pick up the pace however and settled for admiring the nature around her.

Looking out she saw the same familiar grass and trees stretching out before her and soon she’d see the back watch tower rising in the distance. She couldn’t wait to take a warm bath and crawl into bed. Maybe her brother could wait until tomorrow. Her walk was more of a meandering sway at this point, the fancy slippers she’d worn out here were gone and her feet were cut from stones in the river and sticks in the mud. The bottom of her dress was filthy and she struggled to keep her head up, having to carefully pick her away around the ground.

When she finally looked up again, sure she would see the watchtower, she experienced a nasty shock at the sight that greeted her. It was a watch tower alright, just not hers.

“Oh. Oh.” She said once she realized.

She turned and ran with what little energy she had back the other way. Why hadn’t she seen any guards? Were the Blackwood guards also as useless as the Brackens? Why were they posting all of these guards if they were nowhere to be found? Her run had gradually slowed into a jog simply because she couldn’t keep the pace up. The wind and the rain was starting to pick up again when she ran into them. A group of six or seven Blackwood guards emerged from the trees, they were laughing and talking completely unaware of her. Her first instinct was to freeze, going completely still. Were they shifting changes this early? It couldn’t be later than the afternoon. Or had she been out later than that?

Thankfully her second instinct was to drop to the ground, hiding in the grass and praying they didn’t walk her way. She waited as the group grew closer, their voices getting louder as they did.

“Did you see the look on the lad's face when I took his sword from him?” One called out to roarous laughter.

“The smaller one could hardly be called a warrior at all. He hadn’t even gotten a punch in. All that shiny armor wasted on Bracken filth like him. Still say we should have stripped it off of him.”

Shanda felt a horrible terror grip her. A wash of hot fear went through her at their words. Surely they weren’t talking about Martyn and Royce. Heart pounding in her ears she listened for more.

“No, it would only make you a worse man for having touched it. It’s better that we tossed them.”

Her heart seized up at that. They hadn’t killed anyone right? She waited on pins and needles for them to pass, sure one of them was going to spot her. Or worse, stumble into her in the grass as they walked by. But as the voices gradually grew further away she could have wept for joy. Not wanting to take any chances she kept her head down and continued crawling away through the grass. If she made it out of this unscathed she was truly going to stay inside, the river clearly wasn’t a place of luck for her lately. It was while crawling through the grass that she ran straight into the enemy.

Because she never looked up, she ran right into a straggler from the earlier group of guards. Right into his knees that is. She crashed her head against his knees, falling backwards and just laying there. She hadn’t really expected to make it out of here unseen. She had ventured much too far into enemy territory to come out the otherside unscathed. It was when her enemy leaned over her, casting a shadow that she decided maybe the river lands weren’t cursed. Maybe it was just her. She was too tired to react. This day had it out for her and she was tired of fighting against what seemed to be her fate.

“Hello there little criminal. Come to face your trial after all?”

The smug grin on his face would have made her angry if she could summon the energy. One hand rested on his sword, the other he held out to her.

“Would you believe me if I said I got lost?” She asked, taking his hand and heaving herself up though she did not want to.

“A seasoned warrior like you? I’m well and properly shocked.”

She ignored his mocking tone. There was no chance she got out of this predicament now. She cursed Royce for being such an annoying immature child. She didn’t want to go on trial for attempted murder. The Blackwoods wouldn’t exactly give her a fair trial. Maybe her father would kick up a big enough fuss to get the Tully’s involved.

“I have to insist you send a letter to my father, telling him of my capture.”

Benjicot smiled at her before wrapping a hand around her wrist and leading her back toward Raventree.

“As it is, criminals don’t get to insist on anything. However I’m sure your father already knows. We encountered you brothers earlier looking for you. Only we found them and they didn’t find you.”

Despite her outwardly calm demeanor she was freaking the fuck out. Her thoughts were anxiously spiraling into the worst case scenarios. She had seen the guards that came back half beaten to death by the senseless brutes over here. Martyn had been half mad today already, she couldn’t imagine he could have held his own. And Royce was still so young, he spent his days laying on hay bales for the Mothers sake!

“Are they okay? What did you do to them? Tell me!” She demanded trying to yank her hand out of his grip. Unable to feel his skin on hers for fear of her brother's suffering.

Benjicot just laughed and pulled her closer against him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

“They’re fine, silly. We needed them to be able to walk back. How else would your father know you’re going to face justice for being a little sneak? When we told your brother we caught you on our land, spying again in broad daylight. Well, you should’ve seen his expression.”

She stared at him in horror.

“That’s not true. I got lost. And besides you’ve only just found me now!”

The foul man beside her shrugged, still grinning.

“He believed us and it turns out you were actually here committing the crime anyway. It’s all the same thing.”

“It is not the same thing! My brother pushed me in the river, you jackass. I got swept downstream and I couldn’t figure out where I was. I thought I was walking home. Believe me I’ve had a bad enough day without adding you to it.”

He squeezed her shoulder replying, “Aw, you poor baby. Have you not figured out by now you don’t belong out here?”

Her face burned in embarrassment before she snapped back at him. “I was out here for the mourning ceremony. Gods, can we walk back in silence? I’m a prisoner right? You don’t do idle chatter with prisoners do you?”

“No.” He agreed. “But I also don’t let them walk my land. I’m being generous to you, little criminal.”

“I am not a criminal!”

“Are you a prisoner or not? Make up your mind, love.”

“I’m nothing okay! Let’s just get on with it.”

“Okay nothing, are you going to admit to your crimes?”

“I haven’t committed any crimes. The land is neutral anyway. You are insane and should be stripped of your title.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Raventree Hall loomed impressive in front of them and Shanda tried to hide her fear as he led her up the hill.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 1

Warnings: Stalking

It had taken quite the amount of convincing to persuade her into selling her art at an exhibition in Nashville. Even more convincing to actually get her to accompany it. People were not her strong suit in any way, shape, or form. She had never been blessed as a social butterfly or even a caterpillar, always content with her easel and paints in lieu of friends. It was in isolation that she could allow her muse freedom to create, using her as a conduit for exquisite canvases. 

Still, she tried. Her battery was drained within the first hour but at least she tried. 

She had never expected her painting Exile—the morose Louisiana vampire—to be the centerpiece of her collection. Many of her works were influenced by the vampiric community, though not all contained a humanoid form. Most were landscapes or a selection of colors. 

Even the simplest of compositions brought in an impressive amount. Julia was doing quite well for herself. She could live for several months on the proceeds from one painting, even with a portion of the money shoveled into savings to put toward her dream of her own art studio. A place to show her works even if she chose to never sell them again. 

Arms folded, Julia picked at her bottom lip while maintaining a hold on her champagne glass, observing her own painting. She could feel the loneliness seeping from the paint, a familiar emotion she had always attempted to stifle with her craft. A sliver of the ache had always managed to creep past her defenses and she was powerless in the face of it. 

“Bill Compton.”

A voice smooth as silk sounded from her right, too close and startling her enough to move away two steps. The man was tall, his eyes skimming over her work with a keen interest she had seen many times before. There was a faint red coloration around those pretty blue orbs. 

Vampire. 

It wasn’t her first meeting with one, given her choice of hobby or occupation. It surely wouldn’t be her last. 

This particular specimen wore jeans and boots, along with a black leather jacket over an equally black shirt. And he wore it well, she couldn’t help but notice. The dress code was anything but formal. Even so, she herself had chosen an oversized sky blue sweater and jeans, hiking boots completing the mundane outfit. She felt out of place and in no mood to entertain the attempts at conversation. 

When she didn’t respond, he turned to face her. “My apologies.” He smiled, all white teeth and captivating eyes. “It wasn’t my intention to frighten you.” She watched warily as he extended a hand, one she intentionally avoided until he retracted it with a hint of annoyance in his expression. Or maybe disappointment? “Eric Northman.”

Her eyes—ever vigilant for the details often missed in a world of opulent noise—squinted, fine wrinkles at their corners suggesting an overuse of the action. Those green pools fed the atmosphere with a raw honesty words could never convey. After but a heartbeat of scrutiny, she tapped her finger deftly against the side of her glass.

“Good evening, Mr. Northman.” Unable to bear the weight of his gaze, she looked away. She would have loved nothing more than to retreat but her mind circled around to his first words. “Who is Bill Compton?”

Eric crossed his arms and returned his attention to her artwork. Thank god.

“The man in the painting.” 

Her eyes slid to their corners before she actually turned her head. “You know him?” 

“I do.”

“You’re from Louisiana?” She asked before she had given any true thought toward engaging in an actual verbal exchange. She had no interest in getting to know this man, regardless of how pretty he might have been. 

He chuckled though it hardly sounded amused. “I’m from many places.” There was something ominous in that statement, but she pressed no further. Another lapse of silence ensued before Julia cleared her throat, her desire for solitude far outweighing the endeavor of the sale. 

“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Northman,” she muttered, taking a few steps away. “I need to make the rounds.” She found herself uncomfortable under the weight of his regard. God, she loathed the duty of social interaction. 

Eric lowered his chin in a curt nod. “Until we meet again, miss Graham.”

Julia returned the gesture and spun on a heel, her brow only then knitting. “I never told you—” When she turned to confront him, he was already gone. Heaving a sigh, she inwardly hoped they would never again cross paths. 

The hotel room was dark, a comforting blanket of silence after an onslaught of mingling. Julia couldn’t have been more thankful. She longed to be at her cabin, in the mountains with only Odin—her one-eyed Bull Mastiff—to listen to her ramblings while she wasn’t working. Poor guy hated doggy daycare and would likely chew at least three of her shoes when they arrived home. The artist smiled and stroked her thumb across a well loved photo of the canine before placing it back inside her wallet. 

Her hair was still damp from the shower, a mess of long tresses that pleaded to be brushed but she could not be arsed and simply ran her fingers back across the top of her head to remove the strands from her face. With the day finally at an end and new earnings in route to her bank account, she crawled beneath the blankets and picked up a book she had been reading, yawning before even opening to her marked page. She was already dozing when the phone startled her, the novel tumbling from her lap. Who could be calling her?

Hesitantly, she reached for the receiver, pulling back twice before finally picking it up. “Hello?”

“Miss Graham.”

She’d know that voice anywhere. It wasn’t one that could soon be forgotten. “Mr. Northman?”

“Please, call me Eric.” 

She could almost see the smile that accompanied the words; the same words she went on to ignore. “Mr. Northman, how did you know where I was staying? Better yet, how did you know my name?” She never posted her own photo on her social media. There was no cause for it. The pages were to promote her art, not her face.

“I followed you.” He replied with the utmost nonchalance.

“That’s—why are you following me?” She felt a twinge of fear in her gut, stirring around in search of her measly dinner. “That’s not okay.” She felt as if she were scolding a child, her words poorly chosen and likely meaning nothing.

“I find you,” he paused, the silence on the other line suggesting he was searching for the right word, “interesting.” A little lackluster, but did she really care for the other words he could have chosen? 

“Right.” She cleared her throat, twisting the phone cord nervously. “Is there something I can, uh, do for you?” Again, did she really care? The behavior was odd. It was frightening, and she wanted nothing more than to end the conversation. However, something told her that blowing him off would only entice him further. 

“I’d like you to accompany me to Louisiana.” 

“That’s, uh—” Strange? Random? Cringeworthy? “I’m sorry, but—why?” Pushing herself from the mattress, she stalked over to the window and drew back the curtain just enough for the moonlight to delicately enhance the paleness of her skin. Luckily, Eric was nowhere to be seen. Wait, did that mean he could be inside the hotel?

“Do you have other plans?” His flippant tone suggested that he expected her refusal, yet had no intention of accepting it. He was an audacious one, that was for sure. 

“No.” Julia replied. She owed him nothing, especially excuses. There was a quiet chuckle on the other end of the line. 

“So you’ll come then?” 

“Wait, no.” She floundered. “I mean, no, I don’t have—not that it’s your business. The answer is no. I’m not interested in going anywhere with you, Mr. Northman.” Could she be any more awkward?

“Pity.” He droned. Was she boring him? “I’m sure you’d have substantially more fun than you would at your quaint little cabin.”

Letting the curtain fall, Julia gasped. “How did you—” Her privacy was of such profound importance to her way of life. She was strategically meticulous in sustaining that sense of safety. She avoided interviews, kept any identifying information far away from her professional existence. So how did this man—this vampire—know anything about her?

“I told you.” His tone had lowered to something that sounded intensely close to dangerous. Goosebumps rose on her skin, a certain amount of panic slithering through her veins. “I find you interesting.”

“And I find you scary.” The artist bit back. “Don’t call me again. Leave me alone.” In the split second it took for her to hang up the phone, she thought she heard him say her name but chose to ignore the chill it sent down her spine. 

She attentively watched the phone, half expecting it to ring again but it remained blessedly silent. Releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, Julia crawled into bed, facing the locked door.  She was unnerved but more than that, she found herself intrigued. 

Who was Eric Northman and why was he so fascinated with her?