#(i felt so betrayed when the truth came out about him in inquisition)

[sockenpuppe]

charcoal and red pastel chalk on paper (size A4)

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 25

The Darkling x Reader

The black kefta hung from the tent hook elegantly, its blue thread glistening in the rays of the morning sun. The night had been swept away from you in the blink of an eye with the bright light peeking into the tent like an unwelcome guest. The big bed was also empty, Aleksander's side cold and vacant with no trace of his signature warmth. His scent still lingered though, the thick sheet soaking in his presence as much as you.

The kefta felt particularly heavy as you lifted it around your shoulders and clasped its belt around your waist. You would be boarding the skiff any minute now ready to play along with whatever plan Aleksander had. Truth be told, you would follow him to the ends of the earth and back. He was your silent stone to lean on, the shoulder you wanted to cry on. His company brought comfort and security to you that nobody else had ever given you, not your parents or siblings, nobody. Whether that be plainly down to Merzost or your love for him, you didn't know and didn't care.

'promise me you'll run and hide'

Aleksander wasn't selfless or humanitarian, he always put his life goal ahead of everyone, ahead of you. But this time he was begging you to run, to save yourself if something happened. But what could possibly happen on the skiff of all places? The words were meant to be reassuring no doubt, but they felt like a goodbye and that hurt. It's just a normal skiff journey to Novokribirsk you kept telling yourself despite that daunting dread pooling in your stomach.

Alina had arrived not long ago, his signature black carriage carrying the cuffed Sun-Summoner and bringing her to her tent. You hadn't yet had time to see her, so now you walked with determined haste, ready to give her a piece of your mind as you whipped the tent flap opened.

She stood dressed in a black gown still void of a black kefta no doubt, her hair neatly styled in a regal updo with glittering jewels hanging from a golden chain. But that wasn't what caught your eye, it was the Stag antler sticking out from her collarbone, the skin red and irritated. Her usually expressive face was blank, no emotion visible on her pale skin. Despite her state, you could basically feel the buzz of her power from where you stood. The amplifier was doing its job.

Her eyes found yours with a sharp glare and anger flooded her whole being. With her quick demeanor change came the clenching of her fists and a slight spark of light, small and pathetic you thought, does she not have an amplifier?

'You betrayed me' She stood up and took a couple steps towards you so you did the same, coming face to face with the living saint.

'I did no such thing. Now sit down before you hurt yourself' You seethed and she faltered, sitting down with a defeated sigh.

'Are you here to take my light too like he did? I'm sure there's enough to go around.... you know if you'd have asked me and told me everything then this never would have happened.'

'What are you talking about Alina?' Your angry expression shifted into one of slight confusion at her words.

'Don't act like you didn't know. I know you're not innocent, Baghra told me as much.'

'Don't listen to a word that wrench says.'

'Then who can I trust? Huh? You? Aleksander?' She threw her hands up in desperation and leaned her head back against the wall. ''I can't trust anyone, only Mal....but his life is being held over my head like a bargaining chip.' Her voice broke toward the end of the sentence but she recovered, squaring her shoulders and looking ahead at the tent wall again. 'Even though I can't physically to anything, you two still have your insurance don't you?'

'You need to stop speaking in riddles Alina, the Apparat has rubbed off on you too much.' At his mention, her eyes squinted at you in anger, seemingly aware of his situation back in Os Alta.

'Riddles? Do you prefer lies?'

'No. I choose to omit the truth and say what one wants to hear.'

'I would know'

'Why do you keep saying we took your light? We gave you the Stag' You circle back to her previous accusation, not caring for her petty allegation.

'No, he took my light with the Stag. I can't do anything, nothing. He took it all and is using it against me. Just like you told him to right?' You pause, what.

'Excuse me?' You stared at the girl incredulously. Aleksander did what? 'Alina if you are lying to me I will burn Malyen to a mere ember.'

'Don't you think I would have done something to you right now?' Her voice sneers at you with a poison you've never heard from her before but then it softens to a pitiful infliction. 'Did you not know?'

'Of course I didn't!' You shoot up out of the chair, knocking it over in the process. She just accused Aleksander of taking her Grisha power, of stripping her from the one thing the Saints gave her, light. What you did was nothing compared to this, you never took it all, that would be immoral, sinful. But he did.

'I was wondering why you didn't just take it yourself, I mean you wouldn't need the Stag in the first place.' Because he didn't trust me enough that's why I didn't do it.

'How did he do it?' You stared impatiently at her, your feet feeling restless and your whole body on edge. The anger started to bubble in your gut, slowly raging fire throughout your body.

'He had David use Merzost to join us together using the Stag antlers. He took everything from me. I swear.' She looked petrified, broken. It made sense now why you could feel the power and she couldn't use it, why the antlers didn't quite fit around her collarbone, they didn't belong there. 'How do I fix this?'

Her pleading eyes stared into yours, begging for a solution you didn't have. You turned your head away, deep in rageful thoughts when a loud voice echoed over the rest, she could be lying. This was Alina Starkov after all, she could very well be lying about it all. But it would fit with Aleksander's hints here and there, his need for your validity of loyalty. It made sense.

You once again looked to her, eyes glaring into her own, and whispered with honesty 'I don't know.'

Just as you said aloud your sorrowful admission, the tent flap opened with a whoosh and the man himself entered donning his signature poker face. You took your steps backward, silently excusing yourself from the situation. You could feel his inquisitive stare on you but you ignored it, instead opting to quickly look at his hand. Saints. There, embedded into his hand was a bone fragment of the Stag. You bit down the gasp of horror and clenched your fists. How did I not see it yesterday?

You averted your eyes to Alina's once again and gave an almost missable nod and left.

What in Saint's name is he going to do and how can I find out before my conscience gets the better of me?

*****

You stared at the skiff and watched as the foreign diplomats boarded, each with a slight sheen on their brow. The Fold was an exhausting fear, one children and adults alike shared.

You looked to your left and spotted Aleksander and his troop of Grisha heading your way. While he spoke to Alina, you chose to stand alone and think, think of all the ways right now could go wrong. There were too many possibilities to count.

As the sea of keftas got closer, you walked on board, ignoring once again the look shot your way by Aleksander and Zoya alike.

Your steps were loud in your ears as your feet dragged on the wooden deck. Your head was still swirling with thoughts and scenarios, Aleksander being at the forefront of all of them. Why did he not tell me? Why is he doing this? What is he doing? It was a never ending turmoil.

The whirlwind of your mind was momentarily broken by the movement out of the corner of your eye. Alina was being chained to the deck, all freedom diminished. Aleksander stood behind her, unclasping her cloak to reveal a stunning golden kefta. You could see their lips moving and you could hear their voices, but your brain refused to process anything. You were shell-shocked, your eyes glued to his hand and the antler sticking out of it.

The skiff moved and jostled from side to side on the sands, the Squallers raising the winds to fill the sails. He dropped his hand but your eyes followed its movements. They flicked a sliver of light momentarily and you swore your stomach turned over and inside out. He must have felt your burning gaze on him because he looked up and searched for the target of your stare but it still wasn't enough to break your eyeline.

He appeared at your side suddenly , the same hand reaching for yours but you moved away on instinct. He moved to in front of you, gripping your chin up and forcing you to meet his eyes. They were cold and disconnected, like they usually were when he was deep in his revenge plans. It scared you, it always did.

'Why didn't you tell me?' You said calmy depsite the storm in your mind.

'It's for the best' He whispered, thumb carassing your cheek.

You roughly shoved his hand aside and walked away, choosing instead to stand next to Alina. You could sense her power on him but you could also hear the Merzost aspect calling out to you, begging to be taken into your grasp.

Before Alina had a moment to register your presense, the skiff entered the glorious sands of the Fold. As the shadows wafted in your hair and loomed between your fingers like water, your worries dissapeared and your head cleared. Your lungs breathed the familiar air in and out, spreading the feeling of home throughout your body.

Your eyes shut on their own accord, basking in the Unsea feeling as long as you could manage before all hell broke loose.

____________________________

Part 26

Heyyyyy besties guess who's back!!!!!!!!!!!

Masterlist

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!) @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @adoringb @grisha-of-shadow-bone @rosiethefairy @carlywhomever @allisjustok @keepdaydreamingbb @luciadiosa @azkahanif

[butwhyduh]

Ephemoral

Damian Wayne x reader

Summary: another of my betrayal stories. Damian is like 20. I don’t want to betray children lmao.

You were saccharine like the sweet honey candy Damian would eat as a child. Your laughter was a soft melody he adored. And sight of you with tears in your eyes made him want to rip the world apart. His love for you was like an ancient Grecian tale and it scared Damian. He cared too deeply for someone who’s feet were so shallow in this world. He’d died once and could easily do so again.

But laying next to you on a blanket on the south lawn of Wayne Manor, made Damian not care about his fear. You were here and so was he. His eyes watched you stretch and smile. He couldn’t help but lean over to hug your waist. He breathed in your soft perfum deeply with closed eyes.

“Dami! What are you doing?” You laughed and he grinned.

“Capturing the princess,” he said kissing your collarbone. You laughed and pulled away as he tickled your ribs. “You’re so beautiful today. Have I told you?”

“No. I’m only wearing a hoodie and jeans, Dami,” you reminded him.

“It’s not your clothing that makes you beautiful,” Damian said leaning over you. You looked at his intense green eyes framed with thick dark lashes and full brows. His tan skin glowed in the sunshine. “It’s what’s underneath,” he said romantically.

“Kinky,” you whispered in his ear with a grin and he stiffened before rolling his eyes.

“I was trying to be sweet. Though you are quite lovely physically as well, beloved,” Damian conceded. You grinned and grasped the back of his neck. You pulled him into a kiss. You spent most of the unseasonably warm winter day kissing on the lawn. Damian didn’t dare take it further as you were stanch on your beliefs that sex should be private.

“What would you like to eat, my beloved,” he asked later in the day. Damian lay on his back, looking at the dying lights of dust. You had nestled into his arms to watch too.

“Hmmm how about something spicy,” you asked looking over to him. He grinned and nodded. Damian could never tell you no.

“Let’s get changed and we can go eat somewhere properly,” he suggested. You rolled over in his arms to look at his face.

“Really?” You asked. “Don’t you have patrol tonight?”

“Later. But right now, I want to spoil my love,” he said grasping the back of your neck gently to pull you into a kiss.

Damian had gotten a table at an exclusive restaurant. Of course he had. One word and he could go anywhere: Wayne. You considered feeling bad but as you walked up the stairs to a private table on the balcony that watched over Gotham’s night sky, you could care less. The city could be on fire and Damian wouldn’t have noticed. His eyes were on the dress that curved to your form, the soft clicking sound of your heels, the wine colored lipstick you wore.

You chatted softly about things in your life. University classes and hobbies. Damian couldn’t help but feel a guilt. You knew he was a Wayne and was Robin. But you didn’t know he was an Al Ghul or his long complicated past. The fact that he was raised as an assassin. The fact that his mother had verbally threatened to kill you a few times and only Damian’s threats back had stopped her.

“Damian, are you okay?” You asked after a while. He had a hard line of his brow and he was silent. Damian shook himself and sat up straighter.

“I apologize. My mind was wandering,” he admitted. You grasped his hand.

“To what?”

“My mother,” he said truthfully. Damian didn’t know why he told you that. One of your eyebrows rose. He had never said anything about her and the issue seemed painful.

“Really?”

“Yes. 2 days ago was her birthday,” Damian said. Not that the league would ever celebrate simply being born. You had to earn a celebration in war or strategy.

“Oh. Do you speak to her,” you finally asked. You’d wanted to know for a long time but was scared to bring it up. Why was he willing to share Robin with you but not his own mother?

“No. I haven’t in years. She’s....” Damian failed to come up with the right words. A murderer? Assassin? Cold heartless bitch? No. In her own way, she loved him. And unfortunately it was a deeply dysfunctional way. “Strong willed. And hard to get along with. It’s hard to explain.”

“I see. Do you want to get along with her? You’re a grown man now. Surely she would respect that,” you said and he almost rolled his eyes at how innocent and naive you sounded. His mother would rather rip out her own spine than let Damian be his own man if it was up to her. Damian simply squeezed your hand gently.

“I don’t think so. She believes eternal ‘I’m your mother, listen to me.’ We’ve butt heads for years over it. Even though we live across the globe apart,” Damian said with a rueful smile. He hadn’t told you about her, not really. But it felt good to tell you that his relationship with her wasn’t great. It was partial honesty at least.

“Where does she live,” you asked and his brain froze for a half minute. That was something he could not answer. She was far too dangerous to know about. Ignorance was truly bliss on the account.

“She travels a lot. China, Middle East, Peru. She doesn’t stay in one place very long,” Damian said. He was truthful at least.

“Wow. She must have a great job to travel like that. What does she do,” you asked. He almost laughed in frustration. When did you become the detective? That’s not fair to you. Inquisition is not a flaw in of itself.

“She works in defense contracts. It’s very confidential and complicated,” he finally answered. You nodded sagely.

“Like the rest of your family. Complicated and confidential,” you answered giving him a wry smile. Damian smiled back.

“Perhaps. Perhaps. I hate to eat and run, beloved. But duty calls. Can I call you a car to the manor?” Damian asked. You nodded. There was one company that the Wayne family would hire rides from. One of Alfred’s ex military buddies owned a contractor company that hired private security that doubled as drivers. Confidential and discreet was their motto and they had never let down the family.

20 minutes later a member of the staff walked you, and a small box of food from the dessert platter, to a waiting car. The driver was a quiet intense looking man. He had obvious muscles despite being in a full suit. It wasn’t a surprise. He was security after all.

“Wayne Manor, please sir,” you called to him. He nodded.

“Of course Madame,” he answered in a very soft accent that wasn’t Gothamite. You sat back and relaxed. It was almost 11 and you were getting a little tired. Your head began to droop and your eyes became heavy. It was in that moment that the car made a wrong turn. You sat up straight.

“Sir, it was supposed to be a right turn back there. You’ve gone the wrong way,” you said. He only rolled the partition closed. You gasped. “Sir,” you said forcefully as he drove faster the wrong way. You looked at your phone and noticed a no service sign. There was no way with the amount Damian paid for it. You tried the knob at a stop sign to find it locked like you worried. Your heart pounded roughly. You were being kidnapped.

For 2 hours, the car drove farther and farther out of Gotham. Your city was nowhere to be seen and you didn’t have a clue where you were. The car finally drove up the gravel drive of what looked like a military compound. You gulped as it stopped. The door opened and the man motioned for you to get out. You shrank to the back of the seat.

“If you don’t come out willingly, I will have to drag you and I’d hate to ruin your pretty dress,” he said in a tone that made you think that he hoped to ruin your clothing. Your eyes were wide but you climbed out on your own. He looked you over hungrily before shoving your shoulder toward the front door. You gasped. Your heels made loud clicking noises on the concrete floor and you almost grimaced at how loud you felt. There was no sneaking in here.

He walked you up a set of stairs into a private room. The man gave you a look over before locking you in. Almost as an insult, he hadn’t bothered to take your phone from you. It was useless without any signal.

In another room, Talia lounged in a chair. She watched the security footage of your room. You looked around stiffly before finally sitting on the corner of the bed. You were kidnapped and being held in a cement room in the middle of nowhere without a way to contact anyone in a dress and heels. This was less than ideal.

“I wonder what my son sees in her. She didn’t fight at all. Came willingly. Not much in the way of protecting herself. How could she possibly be a good partner,” Talia asked and the men beside her knew better than to answer. Talia decided to meet you herself.

She casually opened the door and walked in. You stared at her. Talia smiled softly. You were terrified and scared people are easy to control.

“Hello,” she started. “My name is Talia, and you are dating my son, Damian.”

What an odd specific coincidence that you would see her right after talking about her. She wasn’t dressed as if she was in the military and damn sure wasn’t in China or Peru. What didn’t Damian tell you?

“I simply had to meet you. I must say that I’m... disappointed. You aren’t much of a fighter, are you?” She said. Much like a good lawyer, Talia asked questions she already knew the answer to.

“I didn’t know I needed to be,” you said and she grinned.

“No. But you do have a mouth. Such a pretty little one. Too bad,” she said and before you could comprehend what she meant, you were hit in the mouth. You cried out in pain and covered your face in your hand. Your shoulders curled around you protectively and you scooted to the back of the bed. You could taste iron and you wiped away some blood. She had busted your lip already.

“Didn’t even attempt to deflect my hit. And your soft lip burst open instantly. You could never handle a real fight,” she said before tutting. You could only stare up at her as she towered over you. She was right. Damian had taught you a few self defense maneuvers but you had never fought anyone.

You could see parts of her that were in Damian. Besides the obvious skin color, she had his intense eyes and her predatory mannerisms. Damian had never used it on you, but you had seen Robin scare criminals without a word. You had thought it was a Batman thing, but it was from her. Batman hung over them like a predatory bird that killed quickly, with mercy. Talia looked at them the way a cat looked at a mouse. She was going to play with them before eating. You resisted the urge to shiver.

“Damian will be here in a few hours. Why don’t I see if I can toughen you up beforehand,” she said smiling. Talia gripped your shoulder and dug her nails in. You groaned. You tried to pull away.

“No no, dear. That will cost you,” she said before backhanding your face. You gasped out a sob as blood started flowing again.

—————————

It took Damian a full 3 hours to realize you were missing. Embarrassingly long time in his mind. He called the car company to ask about the ride. Damian expected you to be asleep and didn’t want to wake you to calm his mind.

“Mr Wayne, we have an issue,” a woman’s crisp voice cake through the phone. Damian was taking a break on a rooftop.

“What do you mean,” he growled. She stuttered before answering.

“ we can’t find the driver. He won’t respond to our cal-“

“How long? How long have you known?” He asked. Damian was pacing the rooftop with pure murder on his face.

“About an hour, sir. We called GCPD immediately,” she said.

“Your incompetence astounds me,” he said before hanging up. Damian called you instantly. After the fifth time of your phone ringing to voicemail, he was almost in a panic. He sat down breathing deeply. He could call his father but this was his problem. He’d give it 2 hours and then call Bruce.

It was 10 minutes before he had his answer. There was a loud clicking sound in his comms signaling that Oracle was about to talk.

“Robin, there is a man tied up with a sign for you,” she said. “5th and Cherrry behind the gazebo. Police have already taken him into custody for care and questioning. But the message...” she trailed off.

“The Wayne place where it all started. Where you started. Or she’s dead,” Oracle read. “Does that mean anything Robin? Should I contact Batman? Nightwing?”

“No. I’ll take care of it,” he said hanging up on her. Damian knew exactly where to go as gross at it was. Bruce’s old compound in the woods where Damian was conceived. Of course his mother would reference something that weird. It was a full two hour drive up there and Damian was flying on his motorcycle. The place was now privately owned, probably the league. He climbed in through a side window, pulling out his swords as he snuck around. He turned a corner and stopped.

“My son,” Talia said with a false warmth. Damian looked over at her and she grinned. Behind her was you and Damian’s heart dropped. You were on your knees, your arms tied above your head in a V shape. The delicate dress you had worn to dinner only a few hours before was dirty with one strap hanging on your arm. The topside of your breast was visible as you breathed erratically. Spot of blood and dirt clung to the dress and Damian could see the sweat on you from where he stood yards away. Your bottom lip was bloody and swollen and you had the beginnings of a black eye. Talia had definitely been hurting you.

You looked up at him, your eyes were so fucking scared but hopeful. Hopeful that he would save you. But the second Damian moved towards you, Talia put a dagger to your throat.

“Okay Mother. You have my attention. What do you want?” Damian asked. He covered the raw rage in his voice with a blankness. She would win if he was emotional.

“I wanted to meet your companion. She is on a whole.... disappointing. Weaker than a kitten. No fight. She is not worthy of you, Damian. Not someone who you should conceive heirs of the Al Ghul line with. She is nothing,” Talia said.

Now Damian wanted to fight his mother, say that you were more important to him than she ever was. But if he did that, the target on your back was forever. And he didn’t think his mother would simply beat you next time. So he did something he hated.

“Mother. You misunderstand the situation. I have no intention of having children with her. I only keep her around to amuse me,” he said and your mouth fell open. You sagged against the ropes. “You’ve wasted your time kidnapping a toy. Mother, I thought you better than this. Let her go.”

You started crying. You were nothing to him. Just like you always feared. You weren’t wealthy or connected or powerful. Damian had been playing with you and you fell in love.

“Why don’t I just kill her,” she suggested and you gasped.

“No. As Robin, I cannot let you kill an innocent. She’s been naive but doesn’t deserve that,” he said and Talia backed away.

A side window broke. Batman and Nightwing landed on the ground. Talia’s men began fighting. Damian ran towards her and she evaded him.

“I won’t kill her. You have my words. But what I did was nothing compared to what you did, my son,” she said with a laugh. She ran past Bruce. “My beloved. We will meet again,” she said before climbing in an armored car that pulled up. The three heroes took out her men and tied them up.

Damian quickly ran to you and cut the rope with his katana. You fell into his arms. You were barely awake and tears fell down your face. Damian looked you over before hugging you tight. You tried to push him away.

“Don’t,” you said wetly. “Don’t touch me,” you said wobbly on your feet. “I’m not your toy.”

“Beloved. I said all of that to save you. I love you,” he said trying to get close and you put your arm up.

“No. I just want to go home,” you said barely pushing past him. You only made it a few steps before you collapsed. Damian caught you and half carried you bridal style as you looked away from him and sobbed. Nightwing came over quickly, sending the trouble.

“I can help you,” he asked and you pushed from Damian’s arms to his. Dick carried you to the batmobile. You sat sobbing in your hands.

“What happened?” Dick asked after closing the door and standing by Damian.

“I had to tell mother I was not interested in her. What I said was cruel, I’ll admit. But she wanted to kill her, Richard,” Damian said. His whole face looked pained. Dick nodded.

Damian followed the batmobile to the cave. Dick carried you to the med bay where your cuts and scrapes were cleaned. You changed clothing. Ice was applied to your bruises and you looked so close to sleep. Damian stood close by nervously.

“Go away,” you said to him and Damian’s brows furrowed and he closed his eyes. “I don’t want you near me.”

He nodded and left the area. Instead, Damian watched you on the main monitor. You cried into a pillow before falling asleep. Damian could barely watch.

“What do I do?” He asked Dick miserably. “How do I take back what I said?”

“Give her time. Give her space. She’ll just to process it first” Dick suggested. Damian nodded.

That’s how you went an entire month without seeing him. He watched you everyday. Damian gave you all the space you needed. It was long after your lip had healed before he spoke to you. You stayed at a friend’s house. You signed up for college classes, got a job at a coffee shop, and just tried to move on.

But it had truly fucked you up. Yeah, you had nightmares about Talia beating the shit out of you. But what was worse was that every memory of Damian was tainted. Did he truly love you or was he simply playing with you. He seemed like he had loved you. Was it all fake?

He came to your work. It was purely an accident. Damian just wanted a coffee. He walked up to the counter pulling out his wallet and almost dropped it when he saw you. Your hair was falling out of a hairnet and your white dress shirt had seen better day. But Damian thought you looked so beautiful.

“Hi,” he said and you stiffened.

“Damian,” you breathed.

“How- how are you?” He asked.

“Fine. Do you want a coffee or something? There’s a line,” you motioned behind him. He quickly ordered a drink.

“Can I talk to you sometime?” He asked as you made the drink.

“Uuh.”

“Yes? Give me just a few minutes of your time,” he begged and you stopped to look at him. You sighed.

“I have a break in 15 minutes. You can talk then I guess,” you answered. You handed him his coffee.

“Thanks. Great,” he said with a determined look before sitting at a table. Damian watched you work almost the entire time. It was a little unnerving but how he used to be before.

You sat down with a drink beside him. Damian played with his fingers before speaking. You couldn’t help notice how handsome he looked in a dark green Henley and black jeans.

“I’m sorry I haven’t tried to talk to you earlier,” he started. “But I need you to know, everything I said that night to my mother was a lie. I have never thought of you like that. But if I showed interest in you, she would have targeted you. I should have told you about her earlier.”

“What does she really do?”

Damian sighed.

“She’s an assassin. She raised me to be one until I was 8 and then I moved in with my father. I should have warned you about her. She’s crazy. Obsessed with the lineage in our family. It’s very strange. I don’t share her beliefs,” he said.

“That’s good because that was... weird. I mean, the whole thing was but her talking about heirs was super weird,” you said taking a drink.

“Yeah. Yeah. I sometimes think she picked Bruce because of his pedigree. But more important that any of that madness is you. I miss you,” he says earnestly. You gulped.

It was painful. He called you everything you worried about. Nothing but a toy. A distraction.

“I really really miss you. Because I-“ he struggled to speak. “I love you,” Damian finally said. He had never said that one. He had always danced just beside those words.

“Dami,” you said cautiously.

“I love you. And I always have,” he said holding your hand. You didn’t pull away. “Please let me make it up to you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I- I don’t know,” you said feeling yourself fall under his spell.

“Please,” he whispered leaning towards you. You leaned in as well. His pretty green eyes stared at you, pleading. You couldn’t say no to him either.

“Okay,” you said. Damian gently, like he might break you, gave you a kiss. He pulled back to look at your face for any reaction. You had a little smile before giving him another kiss.

[ddarker-dreams]

How do all the other stands feel ab sr? I’m sure they all somewhat get along, right?

i’ve been wanting to give a longer, traditional hc style post about this!! since you’ve asked it’s the perfect opportunity to express my thoughts on it. it’s more of a combination of SR with the user and their stand, i hope that’s okay hjrktme

Bruno Bucciarati;

Sticky Fingers is the first Stand from Bucciarati’s group that you got to see! So there’s a special place in your heart for it. By extension, Bruno was the first person to see Scarlet Ribbons. SR was very inquisitive during their initial meeting, since it’s the first time she ever saw a Stand other than herself. She was looking around a lot, and lowkey wondering where are this things bows at?? 

Though Stand powers wildly vary from one another, Bruno was able to give you a general explanation of what to expect from SR. He didn’t want to go too overboard with advice because he feels a natural fighting style stemming from your own abilities/instinct is best, especially since your Stand is created from your soul. He basically just told you to go with your gut, which at the time felt a bit frustrating... it turned out to be good advice though! 

Sticky Fingers and SR have almost opposite abilities in a way? SR can close up gaps whereas Sticky Fingers opens them up. It’s not uncommon that when you and Bruno are chatting, that your respective Stands are just kinda messing around in the distance. Sticky Fingers likes making zippers in walls, and SR tries to see if she can close them with ribbons... it doesn’t work like that, but it’s kinda endearing to see them interact with one another lmao.

Giorno Giovanna;

It’s gonna be super cute okay. Giorno in general might give the impression of knowing what he’s doing when it comes to romance, but he really is just winging it and kinda going ??? the entire time. Meanwhile, Gold Experience is going ham with SR, pulling all the stops to impress her (and you, by extension). His Stand makes flowers of a striking red color, trying to match the shade of SR’s ribbons!! Mostly poppies, tulips, and occasionally roses. 

Giorno is kinda curious how SR seems to be out a lot of the time, he’s thinking should I do the same thing with GE...? You’ll be doing exercises, and SR is there bringing a water bottle over to you. Or when you’re cooking, SR is hovering over your shoulder wanting to help out as well. She’s just almost always around, even if only in the background to explore her surroundings. It makes Giorno let GE out more often, subconsciously. 

He does ask you about it once, and you just kinda shrug and say SR likes the freedom to do as she pleases. Since she isn’t rambunctious like Pistols, you don’t see the harm in letting her roam around.  

Gold Experience wants to try making ribbons, but the best it can do is creating ribbon eels. It’s not quite the same, but it’s a solid effort. Giorno just has to stop GE from putting the ribbon eel on his head in the same way SR has a ribbon on hers. Mista was around to witness this historical event, and no, he does not intend on letting Giorno live it down. Giorno’s grateful he stopped it from actually happening though. 

Guido Mista;

Let’s just say your Stands together can be pretty chaotic. The first time you met Mista, and he realized you were a Stand user like himself, he had a very pressing question. When you showed him SR, he looked at it for a moment, as if in deep thought. 

“D-does... yours talk too?” 

Mista passed Polpo’s test only to be gifted talented, albeit troublesome little gremlins. Before he realized giving Pistols food is a reliable method of calming them down, it was a war zone. One of the mornings where the two of you had to do some standard protection fee collection, he looked like a borderline zombie. Lamenting that the Pistols refused to let him sleep, and asked if you’d please use SR to cover their mouths lmao. They were protesting the entire time, trying to convince you not to do it.

When Number Five starts crying, SR makes a little ribbon to put on his head!! It’s super cute and Mista’s heart is just leaping in his chest. Then, of course, all the other Pistols want one bc equal attention!! When the two of you aren’t paying solid attention to your Stands, you’ll sometimes spot SR testing how many accessories she can fit on the tiny Pistols. It isn’t a lot but they’re insistent on trying. 

Pistols are always trying to get SR to do crazy stunts for their entertainment. Eventually, you had to lock your refrigerator with her ribbons to prevent the Pistols from stealing your food. But when you’re busy, the Pistols keep trying to convince SR to undo them so they can snack. She actually felt bad for them once, released the restriction, and the Pistols went to town on your leftovers. : (

Mista felt pity for you though and offered to take you out to get more food!! So it all worked out for his benefit in the end. The Pistols do not take issue in reminding him of this as well, saying that they’re the reason he got to go on a date with you. :’ )

Pannacotta Fugo;

He remained fiercely adamant on keeping Purple Haze from you for the longest time. Fugo hates how his Stand practically comes out of its own autonomy whenever you’re in the vicinity, wanting to get a closer look at you. There have been a lot of close calls when you first got to know when another, leading to Fugo abruptly leaving in conversations. 

Your Stands get along well once Fugo feels comfortable enough to let Purple Haze out around you. Since SR is a long ranged Stand, she can do her cute ribbon tricks from a distance outside of the virus’ range!! Though she has a habit of trying to get closer, just out of curiosity. Fugo gets freaked out when this happens though, so she waits until he’s distracted with talking to you (a little genius)! 

Purple Haze makes the biggest puppy dog eyes at SR, which humiliates Fugo to no end. He gives his Stand intense talks when you’re not around, telling him to keep it cool, he doesn’t want you thinking he’s an idiot. But as soon as he even mentions SR, Purple Haze gets all thrilled and is like !!! So it’s ultimately counterproductive. Fugo just hopes you don’t put two and two together, over why his soul likes yours so much. It’s his daily prayer...

Fugo has an embarrassing habit of doodling ribbons on stuff he’s working on, when he starts zoning out. When he realizes what it is he’s doing he gets flustered about it, cursing underneath his breath and hoping that you don’t happen to come by and notice. Unfortunately for him, as SR likes to see what everyone is up to, she came over and saw what he was doing. After putting two and two together, she gave him a nod and a thumbs up on his doodles. Didn’t snitch to you though, so the two of them have a mutual understanding. :’)

Narancia Ghirga;

He wants so badly to impress you with Aerosmith. Narancia will whip his Stand out in your presence at any given opportunity, having it do a few flips and tricks more than necessary. Then he stares over to see what you and SR think about it... she once clapped in Aerosmith’s honor. It was all Narancia could think about for the rest of the day. 

The two Stands typically just play around with one another. Aerosmith likes to make little ribbon shaped clouds, and SR attempts making a plane shape out of her ribbons. It’s not quite the same, but she’s trying!! Narancia finds it adorable, and tries to make requests of shapes and stuff for her to make. SR does her best to fulfill the requests, concentrating hard on the task!!

Since SR enjoys making hair accessories, she’s tried to make a bandanna similar to Narancia’s for you. Though she ultimately scrapped the idea, giving you a disapproving look and fastening it back into the normal bow it normally is lmao. When you mentioned this behavior to Narancia he was like wait, what?? Lemme see! But if SR doesn’t find something fashionable, she doesn’t have any intention on doing it again. So he’s outta luck...

It doesn’t stop him from asking about it. He just can’t believe that your Stand thought about him when he wasn’t around!! It touched him in a way he never knew possible. It’s also a bit of a relief since you’re often the subject of his thoughts. 

Leone Abbacchio;

Similar in a sense to Fugo, where he didn’t want Moody Blues around you that much at first. He takes a much more serious approach to his Stand than others, since it’s deeply rooted in his past trauma. It’d actually be one of the few moments he might snap at you, should you ask to see his Stand one too many times. Not out of malicious intent, he’s just... very disillusioned with Moody Blues at first.

You two had a job which required some investigative work, the client having seemingly disappeared with some goods that belonged to Passione. Figuring out what happened with the merchandise was essentially child’s play for Moody Blues, a replay showing the full extent of the events. Abbacchio wasn’t keen on showing you his Stand, but it couldn’t be helped any longer.

Unlike the others who tended to pester him on the extent of Moody Blues’ abilities, you just complimented him. Saying that it’s similar in utility to your Stand. You willingly comparing yourself to him, and in a positive light nonetheless, kinda had him at a loss for words. 

He didn’t really offer a strong rebuttal like he normally would, so you assumed he didn’t think much of your comment. Which, of course, couldn’t be further from the truth. If you could see good in him of all people, then well... there was a lot for him to think about that night.

After this incident, he’s noticeably just a tad kinder to you in general. What you said meant a lot to him. Obviously not enough to make all his self deprecation go away overnight, but it just gave a small glimmer of hope. That maybe he can someday be better.

Trish Una;

Another person that I picture SR being especially adorable with!! After the events of Bruno betraying the boss, you and SR would be feeling hurt on Trish’s behalf. You instantly draw the parallels of living a carefree life, only for Passione/gangsters to come in and essentially ruin everything.

While dealing with the pain of rejection from her father figure, Trish also wonders if you consider her less important. Since your original job was to protect her, due to being the boss’ daughter, wouldn’t it make sense you don’t care about her now that it’s no longer your job to?

SR covers the spot where her hand was severed with a bow, even after Giorno properly heals it. Trish just looks at you confused, and you explain it’s your Stand’s way of wanting to help her feel better. That where her father had inflicted pain, Trish has the support and strength from you and herself to overcome it. 

Needless to say, Trish thinks highly over you, the feeling extending over to Spice Girl. During your meetups after everything is over, Spice Girl and Scarlet Ribbons come out and embrace one another!! Well, it’s more like SR goes for the hug, and Spice Girl is just :’) woah affection. Trish finds it a little embarrassing at first, but secretly loves and it and looks forward to it. Though she does wish Spice Girl was a tad more discreet. 

During Trish’s travels for her singing career, if there’s anything that even vaguely reminds her/Spice Girl of you, she snaps a photo to text to you. It’s mostly red hair accessories and clothing, which she of course purchases. Spice Girl misses SR a lot, so expect to receive a lot of texts asking how you and your Stand are doing. 

When Scarlet Ribbon spots Trish’s name popping up on your phone, she immediately brings it over. The Stand impatiently shoves your phone in your face, as if to say respond now!! It’s Trish, it’s important!! Scarlet Ribbons loves her a lot 🥺 especially since Trish sends her accessories...

[monday-headache]

Hey Simon! Thank you for the amazing ask <3 Right back at you:

I love that you're writing/arting about characters that have never met in canon (Gaige and Sasha, Fiona and Scarlett). What drew you to writing these characters together? And are there any more that you'd love to explore one day? :D

Hey Sarah, glad it made you smile. I want to have more interaction with the fandom so I’ll try to make this a regular, so please be free to send me questions whenever. I’d love to read your thoughts ;)

And Omg, that’s a fantastic question as well but, be aware, this is gonna be an essay as well.

Mhh where to start, where to start.

So first things first, My headcanon of why I think Gaige and Sasha would be best friends started a pretty long while ago, way before I even got gently pushed towards the Idea of really starting to write about it in the first place. Because you must know, even though Strays is my first longshot, it is also my very first fanfc I’ve ever written in like ever. So no matter how shitty, great or whatever it will turn out to be or how well others will be, Strays has and will always have a special place in my heart. And I’m not gonna rush things either, even when the fandom will die out, my Ideas for it will flow ;)

But yeah how it started. To put it simply Gaige was my first character In Borderlands ever that I played myself. I knew about the Lore of 1 and I’ve played 1 with a friend by the time it came out, but I played 1 myself AFTER I finished 2 So that may be a big reason, why I have such an open spot for Gaige. But also because she is fun, quirky extreme, punky, loves robots and tech... to put it simple a lot of traits I really love about a character. Her backstory with the science fair was so fresh and funny, and it may be one of my favorite spoken dialogue interactions heard over echo cassette’s

Then after Bl2 my love for Borderlands continued, played 1, played TPS and then... There was Tales, and by god do I loved Tales, and I hella still do. You probably know the feeling yourself. And with the love for the game, came a huge love for it’s cast. Like seriously I think besides Tector there isn’t really a character where I was going like, “ugh this one is trash” on the contrary. And besides my obvious love for the main 2 characters, there was a big love for the Deutagonist’s of this masterpiece. Namely Sasha and Loaderbot.

Loaderbot may have officially taken the spot for me as most favorite Robot in video game history ever (and Gortys for the most precious character ever). Like his whole segment of kidnapping them, forcing them to tell the truth, only to show how much he had grieved, how betrayed he felt and that he did all of tha  for his loved ones. Man say what you will about him, but damn he was written perfectly. I was blown away.

Secondly is of course, as you might have guessed it Sasha. I could go lengths for her too, how much I love and admire her character, how real she felt as a sister, a pandoran and last but not least as a human. Sasha felt to me like the most well rounded out character of the 6 (pls don’t hate me for it guys) From the punk rebellious attitude, to learning that she had an anti Hyperion pirate radio, that she used to broadcast bad things that happens in her neighbourhood, to her adapting her morals and learn that even in the most corrupt organisations there are still normal people struggling with their own life, and then progressing from it. And lastly after everything was at loss, the money the plan, she was willing to sacrifice her whole life for a dear friend/s, even on her dying breath putting both Rhys and her Sister at ease and in her last moments. Amazing.

Oooh boy and that was just the prelude to it all XD

After that I noticed a lot of similarities, between characters. Sasha and Loaderbot for instance are both pragmatic, put the lives of their loved ones over their own, love tech, are socially open people while holding back on information and emotion. Not to mention the scenes in 2 and 3 and also 4 and 5 where it is slightly hinted how well Sasha and Loaderbot work together, without sharing much words. So naturally the Idea was born that Sash and LB became quite close.

And the same goes for Sasha and Gaige. I was actually surprised that nobody (not entirely true, I saw one fanart of it) seemed to made that connection before as it was so obvious to me. So basically Sasha is a softer version of Gaige, in many terms. They both have a big heart for tech and especially guns. They both hosted a small radio broadcast that blew up in their region over night. Both are anarchist’s who spread the word for awareness, how fucked up the company war actually is. Both are not really good at their aim. Both call robots as their closes’t friends. Both share a deep hatred for Handsome Jack and his doings. Both fought a giant ass Vault Monster and nearly died in the process of doing so. Both got screwed up big time and now have a huge bounty on their head... So you see the list goes on, and honestly the more I write them, the more similarities I notice, both hc wise and canon wise. So there more I thought about it, and noticed similarites the more I fell in love with the Idea of them becoming close. And from there the Idea was born, that they probably met on a job ( the most likely scenario in the Borderlands universe). It had to be before BL3 of course, and to be after Tales naturally so that only put one timeline in the focus, Commander Lillith.

To be honest, I didn’t expect everything turning out so big. Like seriously I orifinally planed like 8k words or so. Now I’m dangling on the Idea of having 13 chapters and a big ass finally, a neat wrap up of everything and even a possible epilogue XD Yeah, that wasn’t what I expected either but damn do I love doing it.

Like seriously my headcanons only just gotten bigger and bigger. From a whole nebula system in the galaxy, to regions I created in my own mind for it, to even complex backstorys. Like why Sasha wears a headband, why she loves guns so much, what happened to her and Fi’s parents, why she was raised by her aunt, what does Felix have to do with it, Why Gaige has this kicks of both sudden depression and manical behavior. Why she’s so close to her dad, but her mom wasn’t even mentioned once (but teased), why she wanted to become a wedding planer, and why she is so obsessed with robots and margarita mix. I think one day, this thing will turn into a tabletop game or something XD

So estimated 20k words on my answer later and now we are going for my own created ship Scarleona. Don’t worry, as much as I like to gosh about that too, it wont take as long I prommy.

Scarleona was created in a sudden urge while thinking about what happpend to Fiona while Strays happened. And similar to Gaige and Sasha, Scarleona was born from a dynamic. Especially of those from two Ladybosses with Silvertongue and speech 100XD Fiona and Scarlett may have become my favorite Fiona ship (no offense everybody) because of how well they play off each other. Fiona is a con artist, her whole life she was used to swindle, to play it cool and by ear, go with the flow, and expect the unexpected. So here core idea is that she is manupulating people by LYING to them.

Scarlett on the other hand is similar while also the complete opposite to it. She is backstabby, plays with her charm and most importantly she is dead honest while tricking people. In fact even so honest that people don’t even realised that they got tricked even though she told it several times before. And this dynamic is so fascinating to me. You see, Fiona has almost an answer an action for everything prepared, but the idea that her winning honesty, is mind puzzling to Fiona is so perfect. @michellespenscratchz wrote me a drabble several months ago and I think that line describes it just perfect

“So, let me see if I got this straight,” Fiona tilted her head inquisitively at Captain Scarlett. “You needed these Vault Hunters’ help to find this treasure for you. So you…just asked them?”

“That’s right.” Scarlett nodded, inspecting her hook nonchalantly.

“Even though they knew you wanted it for yourself?” Fiona asked.

“Indeed,” Scarlett replied.

“And they…” Fiona blinked, “…knew you planned on fighting them for it once they had it.”

“Of course they did,” Scarlett shrugged. “I told them as much.”

“You told them?”

“Yes.”

“And they helped you anyway?”

“Precisely.” Scarlett turned her hat against the blistering wind. “I fear I don’t quite grasp what about this is so difficult to grasp, Fiona dear.”

“Huh.” Fiona cast her gaze out across the expanse of Pandoran horizon. “I guess I just gotta–I dunno–rethink my whole life right now.”

So yeah, that was basically it. I kinda diagressed and didn’t want to hurt your eyes more looking at the long ass text, but please if you have some more questions to it, pls hit me. I love to gosh about it <3

And thank you so much <3 This was hella fun

[calpops]

falling facade | c.h.

part seven: falling forces

part one: falling flowers | part two: falling freedom | part three: falling fears | part four: falling failures | part five: falling fame | part six: falling feelings

5k words

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

<< >>

Radio silence ensued between Calum and Arden for days after their parents left. Days of quiet left Calum’s admission floating in tense air and burning the back of his throat; the words taunting him among lonely days. She didn’t respond to his texts and she didn’t answer his calls, Michael wasn’t a mediator he wanted to use as the truth he offered her was one he didn’t want Michael to know. So he stopped texting and calling, decided to wait and try to play it cool though contractual commitments and management looming over him created more anxiety. Arden couldn’t opt out of paparazzi walks, they had to make posts and keep playing the game. After nearly a week Calum decided to head over to Michael’s and face her in person only to be met with confusion.

“She’s packing,” Michael informed as soon as Calum showed up; he didn’t even need to say a word for Michael to know he was in search of her.

“She’s leaving?” He asked and couldn’t keep the panic from his voice.

Michael was quick to catch it and though he may not have understood why he was so worked up he moved aside from the door and invited him in. He told him Arden ought to be the one to explain and sent him down the hall to one of many guest bedrooms. The door was closed but Calum heard footsteps moving about and rapped his knuckles lightly against the wood. A pause in motion ensued and Calum knew she was contemplating either opening the door or calling out to come in or go away. He hadn’t told her he was stopping by and he assumed her usual response to Michael would be something of the sort. Steps approached and the door swung open, Arden standing shocked and uncertain before Calum.

A suitcase laid on the bed with stacks of clothes inside, proving Michael’s statement to be correct. Calum knew Michael wouldn’t lie about that but the evidence was jolting and hard to swallow. Arden held a shoe in her hand and grasped the doorknob with the other, knees knocking into each other as her legs began to wiggle amidst the uncomfortable silence they were standing in.

“What are you doing here?” She asked after a stretch of silence. Her eyes flickered up and down Calum in her curiosity.

“You’re leaving?” He answered with a question and a sinking stomach. “You know we have a paparazzi walk scheduled for tomorrow.”

The burn in the back of Calum’s throat was flickering to life, words said and unsaid dancing on the tip of his tongue. Instead of telling her he wanted her to stay he reminded her she was obligated to. Instead of reminding her of what was and what could be real he reminded her of what was constructed and fake. He resented the words as soon as they rolled off his tongue and wished he could go back; say the right thing and be honest.

“I’ll be there,” she said and turned back to the bed and suitcase to drop the shoe haphazardly within. Calum followed her into the room, the days of silence and her curt answer doing very little to explain what was happening between them. His own foolish words didn’t help the matter either. “At noon, right?”

Calum nodded. “Arden, is everything okay?”

Calum really wanted to know if everything was okay between them but the words were caught in a fiery embrace and couldn’t escape. She turned back to look at him, hand blindly finding the edge of the suitcase to grip. She nodded this time but the nod slowly faded and pursed lips and downcast eyes replaced it.

“It’s fine. I just need to get out of this house,” she admitted and shook her head. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just need to get out of Michael’s hair. Stand on my own two feet. I got a job. Found a little place. It’s not much but it’s liveable seeing how I’ll be here a while.”

Words of being in Michael’s shadow and not having life figured out, not having a passion or pride floated through Calum’s mind. Suddenly her silence made sense.

“You could’ve told me,” Calum said and reached a hand out, almost certain she’d flinch or reject the gesture, but in her ever consistent way of surprise she leaned into the touch and nodded again.

“I know,” she began and shrugged. “But I wanted to do it on my own. I had to do it on my own. For myself.”

In a way Calum understood the sentiment of her words but couldn’t quite grasp why she couldn’t even pick up a call or return a text. A spiral of doubt and intrusive thoughts tumbled through and had his hand dropping from her arm, the loss of contact cool on his fingers tips and tightening his throat. Arden shifted and sighed, disappointment seemingly hanging over her head and escaping in her every motion. Calum shook himself, pushed his selfishness away and realized the situation for what it really was. Arden may not be chasing a dream but she was running after something.

“I’m proud of you.”

She looked up suddenly, inquisitive glance trying to figure out the simple sentence packed with meaning. A faint blush danced across her cheeks and calmed the doubts that once plagued Calum. She still reacted innately to him; leaned into his touches, knocked her knees together and blushed at compliments all while holding eye contact. Things were changing but what was real would always stay the same.

“It’s nothing, really,” she responded but the bite of a smile betrayed her humble statement and showed Calum his words were well received.

“I know you had to do it on your own but what about some help packing and unpacking? I can lift,” Calum offered and smirked as her gaze went to his biceps for just a fleeting moment. “Got anything heavy?”

Arden laughed and gestured to an already packed suitcase sat on the floor; one without wheels and that was stuffed to the brim. “Be my guest.”

***

Arden’s place was small but cozy by the time it was all set up. They spent all day bringing her things over and unpacking, adjusting the furniture that came with the apartment and running out to get a few necessities. It was late by the time they were done, takeout containers littered the small counter space and exhausted bodies crashed into the overly stuffed couch. There was still a lingering awkwardness that dwelled between them in Calum’s truth and Arden’s silence. Especially when there were no more tasks to keep them busy or food to keep their mouths full and provide an excuse not to talk. Calum yawned and stretched under the glare of light from the television static—they hadn’t figured out how to get channels but Arden didn’t mind. Calum would guess the moon was out but the very few windows were too small and awkwardly placed to see much of the night sky.

“I guess I should get going,” Calum mumbled and moved to stand from the couch. Arden’s hesitant touch stopped him short. She was unsure as her hand lightly settled on his forearm.

“It’s really late, you could stay,” she said and furrowed her brows before getting out a rushed, “if you want.”

Her offer surprised him, stunned him into his own silence and stalled any motion. They hadn’t spent a night together since Vegas provided allure of lights and drinks that wound up with them tangled in the same sheets as morning broke over the city. He remembered the panic that morning brought, the haze being demolished by the glint of the ring he had come to almost admire on her finger. It took him a few seconds to decide, to weigh the situation and realize he’d like a new morning with her. Something less panicked and nauseated, something like the naps they took on his couch together. Where they could wake up with ease. Even if Calum would have to crash on the small couch.

“I’ll stay,” he said with a decisive head nod and watched the smile slowly lift the corners of her mouth. Hazel went humble and a bit shy but stayed on him nonetheless as she stood and tilted her head to the only bedroom. “I can sleep here, on the couch, that’s fine.”

Arden waved her hand through the air and let out a small noise Calum might peg as a scoff. “You’d be crunched in on yourself. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t been in my bed before.”

Calum felt heat rise to his cheeks at the reminder of something he was already thinking about. He felt caught but laughed through it. “Right, Vegas.”

She threw him a look he couldn’t quite decipher and followed her to the room they had spent all day setting up. The mattress was still on the floor until a bed frame could be delivered but soft sheets and a pile of inviting pillows welcomed them.

“I was actually talking about when we were kids and you’d spend the night while I was away and I'd come back to you in my bed,” she said as she wandered to the closet and disappeared behind the door for a moment before emerging in a large shirt and small shorts. She was clearly dressed for bed and Calum stood in athletic shorts and a T-shirt from the previous day. “But there was also Vegas.”

Calum clapped a hand to the back of his neck where his palm and fingers were met with warmth. He was blushing all over at the reminder of memories he had forgotten. He blew out a breath as her knees hit the mattress and she pulled the covers back, an inviting pat to the comforter having Calum do the same.

“It was either your bed or the floor,” Calum defended and bit his lip. “Hope you didn’t mind.”

Arden smirked and slightly shook her head as she settled into bed, Calum was a bit stiff and awkward as he tried to do the same. The thought of Vegas was enough to make him settle at the edge; arm nearly falling off as he left little space between him and the floor. Whispers of reasons why this was wrong floated through his mind but they were quickly drowned out when Arden giggled and pulled him toward her with a small remark of him falling off and really sleeping on the floor. He rolled to his side, saw she had done the same and they were facing each other. A gap laid between them and though there was a want to close the distance he was also content to keep things the way they were.

“You don’t think we”—Arden began as she tucked loose hair behind her ear and slightly shifted—“did anything that night in Vegas, do you?”

She finally asked the question that had been continuously reappearing in Calum’s own mind. The only thing he could remember and be one hundred percent certain of was the kiss on the dancefloor and holding her close in the pool after hours. All else was a blur. But the way they woke up; with underclothes still on and rumpled as if from a full night of sleep, helped to paint a picture of what he thought could be.

“I don’t think so,” he confirmed. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

He couldn’t see a blush on Arden’s face but could imagine the rosy cheeks his words may have inspired. There was minimal light through a small slat of window up high on the wall. It wasn’t like in Calum’s living room where floor to ceiling windows painted her under sun or moonlight. This was more confined. The bed brought them closer than a sectional. It was more intimate. He could hear her breaths, could feel every shift in the mattress and map out every minuscule inch between them. He had thoughts of Vegas in his mind which brought tumbling woes of tomorrow barreling through as well. Another stunt loomed on the horizon. He didn’t know how his new truth being told would impact them in the face of the facade.

Arden yawned and burrowed under her covers just a bit more, pulling the blankets up under her chin and Calum could picture her eyes fluttering closed. He did the same, tried to get comfortable and it wasn’t for the lack of comfort the bed provided but the uncertainties of tomorrow that kept him stiff. Time passed in a blur, it wasn’t until Arden’s breathing was even and she had moved a bit closer that Calum began to relax and let himself fall asleep—though it was interrupted and constantly shifting.

By morning they woke in a familiar way. With Calum’s arm wound around Arden and her cheek pressed to his chest. Neither said anything as they pulled apart and vacated the bed. Only small smiles and lingering gazes back at each other brought them back to the reality of what the day had planned. They left Arden’s place once she was ready so that Calum could change his clothes and check on Duke; his friend had taken care of him for the night but a stop to say hello and make sure he was set for the day was needed. Arden took Duke out as Calum changed and a sense of normalcy and a craving for days like these befell Calum in an urgent way. If it weren’t for the silence on Arden’s end and alarm bells fleetingly ringing in his mind Calum may have had hope that this could be a new normal.

All too soon that normalcy was shattered when they had to leave for another stunt. The fake always caught up with them; the game was always in motion and distinguishing between realities was becoming increasingly more difficult. They found themselves in another familiar position, eyeing paparazzi out of the windshield of Calum’s car as Arden hesitated. Her fingers wound around the seatbelt and held it tight, white knuckles and a hazy gaze telling of how much she did not want to go. She let out a small huff and turned to Calum with pursed lips and a dropping hand. It landed on her thigh and made no move for the door handle.

“Did you mean it?” She asked and caught Calum off guard, made him nearly jump at the sudden question with no previous context. When Calum’s confusion was evident she further expanded. “What you said when our parents were here. Did you really mean it? It’s not all fake?”  

Calum nodded without even having to further process the question. “Of course I meant it.”

“Then why haven’t you said anything else?”

Now Calum furrowed his brows. “I guess I was waiting for you.”

He didn’t want to push and he didn’t want to assume or make her feel obligated to reciprocate. He took her silence as uncertainty and she took his waiting for her to mean the same. He now realized that what he said could be open ended and not answer the questions that might have been tumbling through Arden’s mind.

Arden shrank back in her seat and let her shoulders slump. She blew out a breath and a tendril of hair went with it, an urge to tuck it back behind her ear coursed through him and won. He reached over and gently did so, fingertips trailing and reveling in the moment and the contact. Her hand came up to capture his, brought it down to the console and rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand; it was as if the movement was her contemplation and mind rushing back and forth.

“Sometimes it’s hard to know what’s real and it’s even harder to know what you think is real too,” she admitted and glanced away, bit her lip and stopped the motion of her thumb. It took a moment before she could look at him again. “What moments did you mean? What did you feel was real?”

Calum softened and squeezed her hand, pushed the thought of paparazzi lingering outside to the back of his mind and focused in on her and the memories they had cultivated in just a couple of months.

“The night of the party. The road trip and everything that happened in Vegas”—Arden arched an eyebrow and Calum quickly reconsidered his words—“kissing you on the dance floor, sneaking into the pool, waking up together. When you stood up for us to management. Dates at the diner. Napping on the couch with Duke. Afternoons in the pool. Sunset on the beach. Being proud of you for opening up and finding a path to follow while you figure out where to go to chase your dreams. All of that is real to me.”

Arden went quiet but Calum felt as if he could hear her thoughts out loud—he just couldn’t make sense of them. It felt as if she was thinking in another language, in a way he couldn’t quite understand, but desperately wanted to. He didn’t want her to stay silent again. He laid his cards on the table now it was her turn to show her hand. Whether it was what Calum wanted to see or not.

“That’s all real to me too.”

Calum let out a breath of relief followed by a small and dry laugh, unable to bite back the bubble of hysteria that had worked its way into him. Arden pushed closer, closing some of the minimal distance and reminding Calum of how much he missed peaches and sugar. He licked his lips, dipped his down just a bit.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asked, and suddenly that breath of relief felt fleeting; he felt utterly breathless as he stared into hazel.

She averted her gaze and pulled back, a sinking feeling consuming Calum. He thought it was real.

“Not here,” she explained and looked out to the paparazzi waiting mindlessly on the curb. “Not while we have to do this.”

Calum understood; no words were needed to define this. Crossing lines of real and fake would only make things more hazy. When the moment was right, when everything around them was real, he would ask again. Arden took a breath and flung the car door open, leaving little time for Calum to think further or get too intoxicated by the scent of peaches. He followed her, wrapped her in an embrace to keep the cameras off of her as much as possible and strolled into the cafe as cameras snapped in their faces. While in line he thought less about what the headlines would say, thought more about what they might do for a real moment once the cameras were gone and if it might lead to something sugary sweet.

This stunt was different, management wanted more photos and more affection, something to splash across pages of a magazine and keep fans attention apt. It was the build up before the breakdown. They would have more intense stunts like this before the inevitable drifting phase and while that stage of the stunt already had a harrowing grip on Calum he tried not to think about it. He was okay with living in the moment and unraveling more of Arden.

The line moved fast and their orders came in quickly and they situated themselves at an outdoor table where the paparazzi positioned themselves at a slight distance to make the photos appear off guard. Sunglasses disguised Arden once more and a tilted laminated menu helped to hide her even more. Calum dipped behind it as well, imaginations welcome to run wild at the hidden shots.

“You know,” Calum started and smirked. “You didn’t tell me what your new job is.”

Arden tilted her head and leaned in, whispering words so they could stay between only them. “I can show you, after we get out of here.”

Calum nodded with enthusiasm as he was excited to see another real side to Arden; to show his pride for her accomplishment and maybe, just maybe, get another kiss. In the meantime he humored the paparazzi as they ate, flung an arm around her and played up all the aspects that management was seeking. Arden fed into it and it almost felt like making a mockery of the demand. Over dramatized affection and longing gazes, bashful and playful hiding behind menus and pretending the cameras didn’t exist helped bring them through their lunch with as little actual interaction with them as possible. Once the food was finished and Calum was certain they had gotten plenty of shots he pushed out his chair and stood; offered his hand to Arden and tucked her back into his side.

“That’s enough for today,” he said in a low voice as they walked away, never wanting to give them any more of Arden than was necessary.

Although, Calum had to admit the way they were acting was not them and it felt like a victory to pretend on their own terms. Whether or not it would fool the masses and appease management was up in the air. Their over the top performance kept the paparazzi at bay and from spewing comments to incite reactions or ask questions they wouldn’t want to answer. They fed off of actions, a picture sometimes worth so much more than words. Photos were flashy and attention grabbing. Words fell flat when they were practiced.

Back in the car Arden took Calum’s hand as soon as the cameras were put away. Out of sight, out of her mind and back to being real and okay. Her fingers laced with his and their hands rested on the inner console. Neither said anything about it; all that was said was directions to Arden’s job and questions about it that she danced around with giggles and an emphatic you’ll see.  

“Right here,” she said and pointed to a stone building with one large window and a glass door dominating the front. A flashy sign hung above the glass and Calum immediately smiled when he read it and pulled up to the curb beside the building.

“An art gallery?” He asked and remembered the discussion when they were sat in the grass about art only being a hobby and not a passion. “Don’t tell me you bought an entire gallery and filled it but I still don’t have one painting from you.”

Arden lightheartedly rolled her eyes at his comment as she unbuckled and Calum followed suit, wandered after her as she got out of the car and waved for him to peek inside the closed gallery.

“It’s not my gallery. I’m just a coordinator,” she explained as Calum took a look through the window to dim lighting and art hanging on stone walls—none of which he understood as well as Arden’s. “Who knew all it took was half a degree, an art history course and “good eye” to get a decent job. Well… that and maybe using Michael as a reference helped a bit.”

Calum’s hand found its way to the small of her back without thinking. She was still looking through the window and had come to bite her lip at the admission of using Michael’s name. Calum could tell it wasn’t something she wanted to do; still seeking to step away from his shadow and all. He thought quickly.

“It was all you,” he said and gently rubbed a circle into her soft skin as she gazed at him in question. “You got the job on your own merit. Michael’s name doesn’t hold any weight in the art world. Not this art world anyway.”

“You think?”

The question was genuine and the concern in her eyes spoke volumes to the authenticity of her character. She didn’t want to be a social climber. She didn’t want to use what little light got cast into Michael’s shadow to give her a step up. Calum couldn’t hold back the smile that overtook him or the need to move closer to her. She reciprocated and welcomed his embrace; hand moving to wrap around her waist as he stood behind her and ducked his chin down to the crook of her shoulder.

“I’m sure of it and I’m proud of you.”

Calum could feel the blush that heated up Arden and heard the slight choked up noise that slipped past her resolve. He didn’t know how long she had gone without hearing those words for something she actually felt pride for. Her hands found his and she titled her face towards his. She was so close, peaches and sugar once again invasive in the best of ways.

“I just figured if I don’t know what my own dream is yet I may as well help other people achieve theirs,” she said in a whisper and her lips nearly brushed along Calum’s cheek like so many thank you’s she had previously graced him with.

Calum warmed at her explanation and inched just a bit closer, felt her turn and welcomed her into his hold properly as he adjusted to accommodate. Her chin tilted up and her eyelashes fluttered as a quiet calm blissfully danced around them. Calum was hyper aware of his own heartbeat, could feel it in his throat and his ribs and the pit of his stomach. He wondered if she could hear it, if her heart was beating as erratically and wondrously as his. She licked her lips and the rest of the world faded away into muted colors. His breath hitched in throat.

“Now,” she whispered and let her eyes fully close as Calum leaned in.

It was soft and reminiscent of the dance floor at first. Just a tender touch that lingered for a beautiful moment. They both slightly pulled away but only enough to take one small breath before reconnecting. It was explosive and sent chills up Calum’s spine. His tongue swept at her lower lip and she invited him in, greedy hands sought out more of each other with a press of their bodies. Calum was fiery and floating, breathless and rejuvenated once they pulled away. Her eyes stayed closed a moment before fluttering open and softly meeting his gaze. Though there was the faint sound of bells ringing through Calum’s mind they were drowned out in favor of his heart beat and the small breaths that escaped Arden.

“I know you just got your new place set up but do you want to head back to mine?” Calum asked and waited with bated breath and hope on his heart and sleeve. “Duke misses you, you know.”

“Oh does he?”

Calum nodded with a cheeky grin and gave her a small peck on the cheek. “He does. Told me this morning.”

“How could I ever refuse then?” She questioned with sparkling eyes and a crooked smile as they started back for the car with hands held. “And you know Micheal won’t be waiting up for me anymore either.”

Calum stopped dead in his tracks and so did Arden consequently. Those bells came back as a blaring alarm.

“Michael’s gonna kill me,” Calum said with volition; as if it was a known fact. He rubbed at his jaw with his free hand and let worry crease his forehead. “Soon as he finds out we’re real that’ll be the end.”

Arden’s eyes went wide and Calum knew in that moment the warning bells had caught up to her. Her hand dropped from his and went unsurely to the hem of her shirt with a loose grip. Her knees knocked together and she shook her head. He could tell she was trying to think it through. He hoped he hadn’t scared her into not pursuing a real relationship. Michael was just another obstacle they would have to go around.

“Maybe we don’t need to tell him?” Calum asked with a wavering voice and not much faith; a bite of guilt already eating at him at the prospect of omitting such a big truth from his best friend.

“What Michael doesn’t know”—she said as she came back from the warning alarm and opened the car’s passenger door—“won’t kill you.”

Before she could get in the car Calum stopped her short and shook his head as he weighed the situation and his request. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

People passed by on the sidewalk as Arden took an extra moment to contemplate. Calum reached for her hand again and felt an ache in his chest ease up when she squeezed back.

“I mean, I did ask you to lie to your family,” she began and took a step toward him, the door shutting behind her. “And we will tell them all the truth eventually. Right now, we still have a lot to figure out between us. It’s probably best that it stays just between us. We don’t need more outside forces trying to call the shots.”

Calum knew that to be true, there was still a lot up in the air between them. It was real but it was still laden with questions and undefined. With a loose hold on her hand he pulled her closer and pressed a shy kiss to her forehead.

“Just until we figure it all out,” he agreed.

“Can we head to your place now? I miss Duke,” Arden agreed and teased.

Calum decided to ignore everything except the way she lit him up and made him feel like he was floating. To focus only on her and what was best for them. Nothing else mattered. Not Michael. Not management. Not questions and labels yet to be discussed. What they knew was that it was real and something more than a contract could define. All of the falling forces lingering around them didn’t hold half a flame to the importance of each other.

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[thetaoofzoe]

FIC: Mirrored Series  Part 2

Title: The Mirrored Series Part 2

Subtitle: Sibling Squabbles 

The Mirrored Series: Society Pages - Part one   Read part 1 here. 

Pairing: August Walker/ YOU / (later Walter Marshall)

Rating: This part - NC-17 Smut, oral sex, slight Dom!August, explicit sex

Word count: 2202

Summary: You are just a society page columnist. Over the course of a year, you received letters that started out lighthearted and cute but then degenerated into threats to do you bodily harm. Twin brothers, August and Walter, walk into your formerly peaceful life. But can you trust either of them?

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​

August never mentioned having a brother. But there he was, in the flesh. 

Walter smiled a little and introduced himself properly.

'Detective Walter Marshall. I'm sorry to disturb you at this party.'

You returned his pleasant smile.

‘I take it you’re here for me,’ you said hopefully.

Walter considered you for a moment, and you felt thoroughly probed by his gaze.

‘Sorry? How’s that?’

Oh, you thought, so this wasn’t about Red. They hadn’t caught him and weren’t coming to you with the good news.

‘Oh, I ah, umm…’

You floundered with the truth and ever the white knight, August stepped in and changed the subject.

‘Why are you here, Walter?’

August sounded exhausted by his brother’s presence and Walter didn’t answer right away. Inquisitively, he held your gaze just a little longer, before looking at his twin.

‘Why are /you/ here, August?’

Another hard exhalation of breath and August answered through clenched teeth,

 ‘Working.’

‘As am I,’ replied Walter easily.

You looked from the bodyguard to the cop. It was so deliciously electric standing between August and Walter, that a  fleeting desire to be fucked by the both of them ached in your chest.

You moved your weight from one foot to the other and that tiny motion drew the detective's attention again. Something minute changed in his expression and you no longer felt threatened but intrigued by him. You giggled girlishly to lighten the mood.

'So, why do you have an accent, and August doesn't?' you asked, expecting the answer to be something as innocent as the twins growing up in two different countries.

'He does have my accent,' Walter said, leaning in and whispering conspiratorially, pleased to be spilling his brother's secret. 'He just hides it.'

A laugh rumbled out of August, but it did not sound pleased.

'Don't you have to be incompetent some place else, Walter?'

Walter scoffed dismissively and you were taken aback by August’s vitriol. To you, this banter seemed like old hat squabbles between two siblings and you felt like an intruder, privy to something that should have remained private.

'And how do you know August?'

Walter's attention was on you again and it was an interrogating tone that demanded that you comply.

'He's um, he's my...'

The word 'bodyguard' stalled on your tongue.

'Personal assistant,' replied August and if the words were tangible, he would have chewed them to bits.

Walter's dark, elegant brow went up, and you nearly laughed, because it was the same exact face you'd seen August make many times when he was either intrigued or incredulous.

'I didn't know you were in the business of personal assisting, August.'

Walter seemed to be holding back a laugh. 

‘There seems to be a lot of things you don’t know,’ August shot back.

The air vibrated around you and you could feel the rise in temperature between the two men. Things were definitely on their way to becoming publicly messy, and in an attempt to control the situation you put a hand on Walter's arm. His eyes met yours and his intensity squeezed the air out of your lungs. You couldn't remember what flippant thing you were going to offer to smooth the rough waters, so you awkwardly let your hand slip away. A beat of silence passed between the three of you, and then August was speaking. 

'It's time to go,' said August, his hand sliding possessively across your back and closing about your upper arm.

He wheeled you around without another word and you missed the look that passed between the brothers.

'Good night, Miss,' said Walter, amusement still in his voice.

As August guided you away, you turned and glanced over your shoulder at the detective. He was watching you and when your eyes met, his generous mouth curved into a knowing grin. 

You were wet the entire ride home.

**

August was clearly agitated. He was gruff when he told you to wait in the foyer while he inspected the rest of your flat for intruders. Nevertheless, you stood there obediently, in your best dress and court shoes, feeling like a schoolgirl made to stand in the corner to await punishment from her Daddy.

Your thoughts drifted and you squeezed your upper thighs together reveling in the spike of pleasure the self-imposed tightness rushed through your blood. Breathing deeply, you closed your eyes and continued to rhythmically squeeze and release, squeeze and release. Your knees came together and you resisted the urge to finger yourself. Oh no, that was for later. That was for after sending August off for the night and after a long shower to get the distasteful events of the party off of your skin. You planned a long evening of chilled wine and self-pleasure and you already had the perfect twins fantasy ready and waiting. 

An indulgent giggle rolled out of you.

'Something funny?'

You opened your eyes. August was striding purposefully across the living room towards you and you looked up at him unable to read his handsome face. Was he still angry about encountering his own brother at the party?

'Your brother was... interesting,' you said instead, not about to reveal that you were planning to masturbate fantasising about both August and his brother.

You chuckled despite yourself and up went that dark brow. Just like his brother. Just like his intensely sexy brother.

'Walter... your brother,' you pressed recklessly and his expression darkened.

A shiver passed through you. You liked him like this. Edgy and angry. 

His feelings for his brother were clear on his face and August abruptly crowded you. 

You caught your breath. 

What was he doing?!

August clenched his hands round your upper arms and held you still in front of him. Your audible gasp of delight undermined your attempt to remain neutral.

'Stay away from him. He's not who you think he is.'

Your eyes widened. The admonition caught you off guard and you attempted to pull free, but he didn't let you go. And although part of you didn't want him to let you go, you still gave another tug just for good measure. You didn’t want to appear to be giving in quite so quickly. 

'He's a cop. Why do I have to worry about him? Protect and serve, right?'

'Yes, exactly. He's a cop. That's what you need to worry about.'

You didn't understand and August did not seem in the mood to explain.

'And if I don't?' you asked haughtily, staring defiantly up at him. 'I think you're forgetting who's the boss here.'

'Do you feel in charge right now?' he growled.

He could have slapped you and you would have felt less surprised.

Heat throbbed in you, betraying your more rational brain, and your already open mouth stretched into a breathy grin. In response, colour rose in August's cheeks. He got a hold of himself and released you. He stepped back, but you closed the space again.

'No,' you whined softly, your defence of Walter already forgotten. 'No, you're in charge, August. You're in charge. Show me that you're in charge.'

Desire sparked in his eyes and it was as if he’d been waiting an eternity for your permission. August wasted no time yanking off his suit jacket, and throwing the expensive garment onto the floor. You cooed with encouragement and reached to greedily squeeze the biceps that strained the sleeves of his ice grey button up. God, he was so beautiful.

Crouching a little, August slid his hands under your bottom and hoisted you up against him, pushing up your dress and spreading your thighs so that you could wrap your legs round him. You held his face and leaned down, to kiss him, open-mouthed, and gasping with renewed arousal.

August carried you to your bedroom where he stretched you out on your neatly made bed.  You'd left the drapes open and the creamy ambient moonlight illuminated the room. You watched August unbutton his waistcoat and toss it carelessly aside. He made short work of his cuff links, which he smartly tucked into the pocket of his trousers, before he rolled up his sleeves. 

He gently grasped your ankles, and hauled you to the foot of the bed. August rucked up your dress, gloriously exposing you and you moaned, feeling loose and excited in your skin. He helped you to wriggle out of your damp knickers and you half expected him to tuck them into his pocket as well. Instead, he dropped them on the bed beside you.

August smoothed his hands up your legs, guided your thighs open and leaned in to drop slow, warm kisses over your knee then up to where your sex quivered sweetly with anticipation. You gasped sharply at the first tentative flick of his tongue along the secret scented place where your inner thigh met your mound. 

August tasted you, and worshipped you where you were most vulnerable and there was nothing more that you wanted than to have him devour you. But the game was on his terms and damn him if his patience wasn’t infinite. August used the edge of his thumb to open you, parting his lips and delving his tongue deeper into your slippery heat. His scruff prickled your sensitive skin but it only added to your torment. 

'Be good,' he murmured then suckled your plump clit between his lips.

The breath you dragged in was loud in the silence, but you were beyond self-reproach. There was no need for shame. Not now. Not when you felt this divine.

Another wicked suck and you cried his name, arching and writhing hungrily in his hands. Turning your cheek to the duvet you lifted a hand to cover your own mouth. You did it not so much to quiet yourself, but to imitate August's attempt to quiet you. He would want you to behave and be quiet. He wouldn't want the neighbours to know what filthy things he was doing to you. 

This was your dirty little secret to keep and lock away. You pinched your lower lip between your index finger and thumb and pulled, then slid one finger into your mouth. Then another, stroking  them in and out and in and out mimicking how you wanted to greedily devour August's cock.

August drew back much too soon and dazed and shaking you watched him straighten. He unbuckled his belt then unzipped his slacks and you immediately reached for him with both hands. August grabbed your wrists, not allowing you to go any farther and you groaned, frustrated with being denied the freedom to touch him.

'You naughty girl,' he purred and sank down to his knees between your open thighs.

He held himself up with one hand and with the other, he took your free hand and wrapped it around his cock.

'Show me,' he groaned when you stroked his velvety flesh.

And you did.

There was something so erotic about your half-clothed bodies moving together that you lost yourself in him. He was heavy, demanding, his cock thrusting quick and hard over and over into you and you were intensely aware that this cathartic fuck was all you wanted. He was desire and fire and an itch you were desperate to scratch, but not intrusive, even as he consumed you, even as you struggled to keep yourself together.

August shuddered, and his breath began to come in soft whispery gasps and you loved him like this. You loved the friction your bodies created, the heat and the sweat and the overwhelming emotions that spilled out of you. You loved it. And it was in the clinging to him that you finally  understood what you needed. You needed his dominance. You needed to be overwhelmed. This was your reward for taming this powerfully intoxicating man. This was what you deserved. 

His mouth was warm and soft as he searched for yours in the dark and as you kissed the burst of happiness within you was a welcome surprise. 

You thought you said something, something encouraging, or maybe you just begged him not to stop. Maybe you pleaded for him to drive deeper, to fuck you harder and it was the trick that broke August. He tensed,  and your world stuttered to a halt. You found yourself at the precipice, staring up into August's deep blue eyes, and one last thrust pitched you over the edge. 

The world fell into a soothing silence.

'Are you all right?' 

August still held himself over you, and stroked the sweat from your cheek. 

You nodded and thought about breathing. But even that could wait.

'C'mon,' he said, helping you up, 'go and clean up.'

You stood bracing yourself on his arm, feeling lightheaded and giddy.

'Will you stay?'

'Of course,' he answered.

'Pour me some wine, then?'

The two of you shared a soft chuckle and patting his arm, you managed to totter away.

There was going to be more of this, you promised yourself. You got a taste of him and you were never going to be satisfied.  

**

Safe in August’s arms, you let sleep claim you. Your peace remained undisturbed, even when an envelope was slipped beneath your front door.

-end part 2

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[brax-was-here]

Scarlet Briar: The Seeds of Life chapter 6

Written by: Braxxus

Chapter 6: It’s Not Me You Should Be Afraid Of

Sometimes we must accept the hand dealt to us

“Mother…” Ceara heard a soft voice speak nearby. Slowly opening her eyes, she squinted as the leaves of the jungle canopy slowly came into focus. The air was humid, filled with the sounds of the jungle’s inhabitants filtering through the air, but there was a new sound that grabbed her attention. A slight hum in the air, mixed with a light resonating chime.

“Wonderful.” She sighed heavily. “What now?” She casually extended her arms up in front of her face. “Naked…again…”  She groaned slightly as she slowly pulled herself from the ground.

“Mother…” she heard again. She whipped around quickly towards the direction of the meek voice, her attention becoming extremely focused. She realized she was in the place from her vision, but now the thorned vines making up the strange structure had a crystalline sheen to them, glistening in the sunlight, the apparent source of the resonance in the air. The small glowing object once again sat in an alcove in the middle of the vines.

“I remember last time.” She thought to herself. “What are you?” she asked out loud.

“Come closer…” a playful voice whispered through the air. Ceara paused a moment before cautiously taking a step forward.

“If I do…” she spoke. “That weapon…”

Once again, the ghostly image of the Avatar of the Pale Tree slowly appeared, again with the face of a child. Ceara stopped.

“What is the matter?” Ceara’s heart jumped, and her eyes widened as she heard a different voice on the wind, a familiar one that caused a chill to run up her spine. “Why hesitate?” it asked coyly.

“The last time…” Ceara spoke. The avatar opened its eyes slowly, smiling lightly at Ceara.

“It’s waiting for you…” the voice growled behind. Ceara slowly turned to look behind her. She saw nothing but the light breeze blowing through the jungle’s dense foliage. A hushed laughter echoed through the air.

“I’m not afraid of you.  Not anymore.” Ceara said loudly as she she focused on her breathing, calming herself down.

“It’s not me you should be afraid of.” It replied. Ceara turned and looked at the ghostly image. It slowly brought it hands up and clasped them together under its chin, still smiling warmly at her, its eyes bright. Ceara cautiously stepped towards it. As she neared, the image slowly reached out to her, slowly opening its tiny hand. Ceara paused in hesitation, looking at the face of the child. Slowly she reached out for its hand when without warning, a wave of black energy knocked her away. She quickly regained her composure to see the dark sword once again stuck in the ground where the child had been, a slight glow of light fading where the blade had embedded itself. She looked at the weapon, watching its vines writhe and twist around its form.

“It’s not Caladbolg…” she spoke. Ceara pondered on the dark weapon. “An item of great power…a relic of Mordremoth…the pale tree…a black blade.” She stared at the ground as she tried to put the pieces together.  “A relic of Mordremoth…a young pale tree...” Her heart raced as she made a realization. “This…this is the relic …it’s…it’s a seed. And Nafiona…Oh no.” The wind picked up and a roar filled the air.

“What’s happening!?” she cried as a billowing black cloud rushed forth from the blade, quickly emcompassing the area. Ceara felt her breath drawn from her as the ice-cold fog quickly enveloped her body.

“Waahaha!!” her gasped muffled as she woke with a start. She quickly looked around at the upside-down world before her. The jungle was buzzing with activity as the morning sunlight streamed through the leaves of the canopy. She was gagged, her arms were bound behind her, her legs tied together, and she was hanging from a tree limb by her feet by thick interwoven vines without a stitch of clothing. Looking at the ground below her was a pile of animal carcasses flayed open just a few feet away. Struggling against her bindings she quickly remembering the discussion with Nafiona.

“That idea didn’t go as planned.” She thought to herself. “I guess I’ll hang around and wait to hopefully be found. I have a lot of thinking to do anyway.”

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

“Do you think she is ok?” Liathlas asked as she packed some dried fruits into a small satchel.

“If the rumors I have heard about her are anywhere near true, I’m sure she has those courtiers wrapped around her fingers doing her bidding.” Malyck replied, as he checked the edge on his dagger.

"I hope so.” Liathlas sighed as she chewed on a piece of fruit while securing her satchel.

“Are you ready?” he asked, sheathing his blade.

“I am.” Liathlas turned to Mabli. “Thank you for your hospitality and thank you for your help.”

“The jungle provides. Safe journeys to you.” The itzel replied.

The morning sun was rising as the duo exited the hut and hurried down a nearby rope walkway to the jungle floor. Malyck pulled out the small tracking device and activated it. It projected a tiny holographic screen, showing a blip in the far distance.

“I hope I am interpreting this thing correctly.” Looking a little confused at the device. “If this is Scarlet’s location, it shows her deep in the jungle in that direction.” He looked at Liathlas who nodded back at him. They rushed off quickly.

“So, you’ve been wandering the jungle all this time?” Liathlas asked as they made their way through the brush.

“I have. Since the fall of the jungle dragon, I’ve been searching for others from my tree.”

“That’s why you never returned to the us then?”

“Correct. As long as the chance exists that others from my tree still survive, I cannot return to your Grove. I must find them and make sure they are safe. Then I will bring them to your Pale Tree.”  

“Understandable.” She replied. “What are we going to do when we find Ceara?”

“Can she truly be trusted?”

“Ceara?”

“Yes, Scarlet Briar.”

“Ceara…”

“Whatever her name is now. Can we actually trust her?”

“Um…well. I know what she has done while under Mordremoth’s control. And I’ve heard some stories about her since and judging what I have seen of her these past few days, there is nothing that would make me think she would betray us now.”

“She left with the coutiers and did seem to be somewhat happy about it. And this tracker is leading us right to her…and them.”

“Afraid they’ll see you as their harbinger again?”

Malyck abruptly stopped, vexed at the term. He turned his ire towards Liathlas, glaring at her. “Don’t ever call me that.” he snapped at her, pointing at her sternly. “I am not their ‘harbinger of doom’ or whatever title they had for me. If 

Liathlas was slightly taken aback by his outburst. “Well, sadly, you are correct.” She relented. “No argument there.”

Malyck glared at her a few moments before turning to continue through the jungle.

“If you don’t trust her, why are you going after her?” Liathlas asked, a slight inquisitive tone in her voice.

Malyck paused again, looking off into the jungle, sighing lightly. “In the hopes that you are telling the truth about her. Also, the group of courtiers number twenty or more. You will need as much help as you can get to stop them.” Again, they continued through the jungle.

Hours passed. “We’re getting close.” Malyck whispered as they made their way through the terrain. “Here.” They found the tree where Ceara had attached the tracker. They could see the remains of a camp nearby.

“They were definitely here.” Liathlas said as they entered the camp area.  

“Hmm…if they are heading for the corpse grove, they would most likely be heading towards the west.” Malyck pointed and paused. “I think I found her.”

“Oh! Where…” Liathlas paused at the sight of Ceara hanging from the tree in the distance. Liathlas’ heart skipped a beat when they also noticed a giant creature nearby that was making its way to her. “No! We have to get to her!” The duo rushed through the vegetation.

Ceara was staring at the approaching beast trying to formulate a plan to somehow get out of her predicament. The creature was easily ten times her size with a very long barbed tail. It stopped, raising its nose in the air before letting out a low growl.  It continued to lumber slowly towards her.

“Don’t move…don’t breathe…” she thought to herself. “I can’t end like this.” Her thoughts were interrupted by a pistol shot that struck the creature in the side of the head. It turned, roaring in pain. Various illusions appeared around it, attacking it fiercely.

“Liathlas!” Ceara thought as she squirmed in her bindings. More pistol rounds rang out, hitting the beast in various places along its body. The creature fought back against the illusions before letting out a roar and running off into the jungle.

Liathlas ran up to Ceara, Malyck not far behind. He pulled out a knife and started cutting through the vines that bound her. Liathlas removed her gag.

“Thank the pale tree you’re ok.” Liathlas gasped.

“I am, thank you, and don’t you dare tell anyone about this.” Ceara sneered. Malyck cut her hands free which Liathlas grabbed. Malyck wrapped an arm around her legs as they were cut free. They helped her stand. Ceara wobbled a moment as she regained her balance.

“The tracker worked.” Ceara noted. “That’s a relief.”

“Indeed. How long ago did the Court leave?” Malyck asked.

“I’m not sure. They didn’t take too lightly to me being in their presence as you can tell.”

“Hmm…The corpse grove is at least a day’s journey from here. We’ll need to hurry to catch up to them.” Malyck stated.

“Corpse grove?” Ceara’s asked.

“A bad place.” Liathlas interjected.

“It is. It is a place where the mordrem create their troops from the remains of others” Malyck added.

“Like a factory?” Ceara’s brow furrowed. She remembered a vision she had months prior while trapped in the Mists with Ventari.

“Somewhat.” Malyck nodded.

“Ceara?” Liathlas asked, noticing Ceara’s far off stare.

“I’m ok.” She replied, snapping back to the present. “I just remembered something from a long time ago.” She turned to Malyck. “So, this corpse grove. It’s a tree like the Pale Tree?”

“In theory, it is but not as grand. It serves one purpose and one purpose only. We have to get moving.” Malyck explained.

“And that purpose is to create the mordrem.” Ceara pondered.

“Correct.” answered Malyck.

Ceara thoughts drifted to the vision of the young pale tree she saw. “A seed.” She thought to herself.

“Ceara? Um…your clothing?” Liathlas interrupted her thoughts.

Ceara looked down at her naked body. “Hmm…I’m sure one of the courtiers has my armor and I’m going to make their life very miserable when I take it back.” Ceara fumed at the loss of her prized possession.

“Yes, but…right now…” Liathlas started. “We could fashion something for you.”

Ceara looked at her dumbfounded. “From what?” she asked, holding her hands out as she looked around her surroundings. “There’s nothing here.”

“Of course, there is! You just wait here!” Liathlas exclaimed gleefully as she started running around the immediate area. It wasn’t long before she returned with lengths of vine and some giant leaves.

“Oh no…” Ceara’s shoulders drooped as she whimpered to herself.

Malyck casually glanced at her momentarily before chuckling to himself. It wasn’t long before Liathlas had created some makeshift clothing for Ceara to wear out of the leaves and vines.

“This just isn’t going to work.” Ceara complained, looking down at her makeshift outfit.

“It’s the best we could do given our current circumstances.” Liathlas replied to her. “It’s better than being completely naked.”

“What does that matter? We fell out of our pods into the world naked in front of everyone. No one cared then. Why should we care now?”

“Because there are other people in the world other than sylvari.” Liathlas barked at her.

“Feh.” Ceara spat, rolling her eyes at her.

“We need to hurry if you two are done bickering.” Malyck interrupted. “I’m sure the courtiers have reached the corpse grove by now and found what they are looking for.”

“What they are looking for…” Ceara muttered, sighing lightly as they started their trek through the jungle.

“Hmm?” Liathlas looked at Ceara curiously.

Ceara returned her gaze. “I think I know what they are looking for.”

Malyck stopped and turned abruptly. “Which is?”

“A seed. A seed like that of the which the Pale Tree sprouted.”

“How do you know?” Liathlas asked, her eyes widened at the thought.

“I…I’ve been having a vision. A vision showing me a small, rounded object set in a vine covered alcove. A young version of the pale mother appears above it.”

Liathlas and Malyck stared at her in silence.

“There’s more. Anytime I get close to it, a dark sword that resembles Caladbolg appears and cuts it down, causing it to disappear. The sword remains in place of the seed.” Ceara looked at Liathlas, whose mouth was agape.

“Another seed?” Liathlas gasped.

“We need to find it before the court does.” Malyck looked at the two. “Let us hurry.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier!?” Liathlas asked Ceara as they rushed through the jungle.

“Because I didn’t know what was happening. I just recently put it all together and that’s the best thing I could come up with.”

“If another seed exists that is amazing!” Liathlas said gleefully.

“And terrifying.” Malyck responded. “What kind of power does it hold that the Nightmare Court is searching after it?”

“I don’t know, but it must be immense.” Ceara replied to him.

“What do we do with it when we find it?” Liathlas asked.

“We secure it so that no one can take it.” Malyck answered.

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

“And there it is.” Nafiona spoke as her group of courtiers crested the ridge. They had travelled most of the day to reach this area of the Maguuma jungle. She smiled as she looked over the valley below. Within it stood a tall, twisted form of a tree, its branches covered in dark pods. They could see various creatures moving within the small grove within its base.

“Behold, my courtiers. The corpse grove lies before us!” Nafiona gestured grandly.

“It is within your grasp, m’lady!” one of the courtiers spoke excitedly.

“Indeed, it is.” Nafiona smiled proudly, placing her hands on her hips. “Now, let us prepare to remove the vermin from within. Ready the cannisters!” she ordered as she turned to her courtiers.

“Yes, m’lady!” her entourage shouted in unison as they saluted her. Quickly the courtiers assembled two small cannons facing towards the grove below, each with a stockpile of ammunition next to them. Nafiona picked up one of the cannisters, smiling coyly.

“Madam Scarlet…I have to admit that your toxic spores are a wonderful creation. With this newly engineered version, even more potent than before, I’ll have the power I need to take control of the Nightmare Court, and then the Grove, and from there, all of Tyria.” She turned to one of her courtiers. “Are we ready?”

“Yes, m’lady.” The courtier Ordhran responded.

“Good.” She handed the cannister to him, in turn he quickly dropped it into the weapon. It automatically fired the metal cannister into the area of the twisted tree below. They watched it explode, a cloud of gas erupting into the air.

“Fire. Cover that whole area in spores!” Nafiona ordered her troops proudly. “Leave nothing standing!”  Round after round the cannons fired into the grove below, until the entire area around the tree was covered in a fog of toxic gas. Nafiona laughed to herself as the last round was fired. The barely audible sounds of the mordrem inhabitants could be heard as they seemingly fought to stay alive in the toxic cloud. It wasn’t long before sounds of the dying gave away to silence.

Nafiona turned to her courtiers. “Now, the time has come to claim our prize.” Her entourage saluted her. “Caelan, you stay here with a small group and guard the cannisters.”

“Of course, m’lady.” He saluted her as she turned away. Nafiona and her group travelled down a narrow pathway along the ridge to a group of gigantic, thorned vines that formed a crude bridge over the chasm below. It led them to the corpse grove, where Nafiona hoped to find what she was looking for. The toxic gas had mostly cleared when they reached the area, swept away by the breeze. The bodies of the mordrem laid strewn across the ground, some still writhed as the courtiers approached.

“Kill them. Kill any that are still alive.” Nafiona ordered. Her followers searched through the area, slaying any mordrem that might still cling to life.

“It seems all of been taken care of, m’lady.” One of her followers announced.

“Good. Now, tear this place apart. Do not stop until we have found the prize I seek.” She paused a moment. “Ordhran?”

“Yes, m’lady?” He watched as she walked over to a large vine protruding from the ground, running her finger along one of the sharp thorns. “How is the sword coming along?”

“Perfectly.” He stated. “It will be ready soon.”

“Hmm… if the prize is here. We will need to hurry.”

“Yes, m’lady. I will double the efforts.”

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

“I can’t believe you are wearing her armor.” Caelan said disbelievingly to Orla, as she fiddled with one of Ceara’s gauntlets.

“It almost fits! It is a little loose in the hips, but other than that it’s almost perfect!” she replied excitedly. “Besides, it’s not like she’s going to need it anymore.” Orla smiled at him.

Caelan shook his head as he looked over Ceara’s rifle. “I can’t seem to figure this thing out. All these little screens and switches, but I can’t get anything to work.” Orla paid his prattling no mind and she continued to fiddle with the buttons on one of the gauntlets.

“Or this thing.” He continued as he picked up a silver cylinder shaped object. He flipped a switch on back and forth, tapping it against his hand.

“Oh!” Orla gasped as she was enveloped in a stealth field. Caelan looked up and saw Orla gone.

“Orla!? Where are you!?”

“I’m right here!” she giggled, seemingly from nowhere. She crept around him, only he noticed her footsteps in the loose dirt.

“Stop playing. We don’t have time.”

She reappeared next to him, a disappointed look on her face. “You’re no fun, Caelan.” She returned to her place and sat on a downed tree. “Hmm…I wonder what this does.” She spoke softly pressing one of the buttons. A series of holographic screens and keypads projected from the gauntlet.

“Oh my! Caelan! Look!” he looked up from working on the rifle.

“Oh wow!” he exclaimed. “What is that!?” He leaned the rifle against the stack of cannisters and approached her.

“I’m not sure!” Orla slowly reached up and tried to touch the holograms. Some of the keys lit up as her hand passed through them. “Whoa!” She tried again, cautiously placing her fingers in the keys. They lit up as she touched them.

“Hahahaha! This is…this is so neat!” she laughed.

Caelan reached up and touched a screen, his hand passing through.

“I think they only work with the gloves.” Orla said as she playfully tapped at the various buttons. “Hmm..nothing seems to work here either.” She continued, slightly disappointed.

“I guess she has some kind of security or something.” Caelan replied to her, looking out over the corpse grove.

Orla pressed another small button in the hidden panel. A pair of holographic projections of Scarlet Briar appeared and leapt at the preoccupied Caelan.

“Caelan!” she screamed just as one ignited a holographic sword and swiped at him, hitting his arm.  

“Orla! What are you doing!?” he screamed. Orla pressed the button again causing the holograms to disappear. She ran up to the injured sylvari.

“Are you ok!? I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I didn’t know that would happen!”

Caelan looked at the wound, golden sap ran down the sleeve of his armor.

Another courtier came running up “What was that!?”

“I don’t know! They just appeared and attacked! One of her weapon systems, I think.” She said as she helped Caelan remove the armor from his arm. “Do we have anything to bandage this wound?” she asked.

“Just a moment.” The courtier said as he rushed to a nearby pack. He returned with some medical supplies. Orla applied an oil to the wound before wrapping it in a bandage.

“There. Now stay off your feet and don’t do anything strenuous for at least two weeks.” She joked.

“Funny.” Caelan replied, strapping on the armored sleeve. “Orla, do you think all this will work? What Nafiona is planning?”

“Are you having doubts?” she asked him, looking at him in the eyes.

“It’s not that I’m having doubts. I would just hate to think that after all we have done here, that what she is looking for doesn’t exist here…or at all.”

“It does exist. This is the realm of the jungle dragon. There is one here. I’m sure of it.”

Caelan nodded his head and smiled at her. “It is. We’ll find it.”

“We will.” She smiled back at him.

Caelan reached for Ceara’s pistol that lay on a small pack next to him. “At least this works. Though it doesn’t seem to have much ammunition. Maybe…two shots by the looks of it.” He looked at Orla. “What about all those little gadgets?”

“Well…” Orla started as she moved to a small stack of gas cannisters. She reached up and grabbed a few of the things she had removed from the satchels of Ceara’s armor. “This is a food bar of some sort.” She said removing the wrapping, taking a bite from it. “And I don’t know what this is.” She held up a small device.

“And what about that little thing?” Caelan pointed at another device.

“Not sure. There is a switch and a little screen.” She activated the switch causing the screen to light up. “it shows a map of some sort with a bunch of little while dots.” She showed him the screen.

“What about that little button?” he asked.

She turned the screen back to her. “I don’t know.” She pressed it and disappeared in a flash of light. Caedan waited a few moments for Orla to reappear.

“Orla? Orla are you still here?” he asked. “Orla!?” He turned to one of the nearby courtiers, who shrugged dumbfoundedly back at him.

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

Time passed as the sun moved to the west. The trio dashed as quickly through the jungle as they could. Malyck put his hand up, stopping them abruptly. “Get down.” He whispered, quickly dropping into the plants of the jungle. Ceara and Liathlas followed suit.

“What is it?” Ceara asked.

“Courtiers.” He said peering out. Three members of the Nightmare Court could be seen in the distance, standing near some equipment. “Looks like guards. We must be getting close.”

“I see them.” Ceara scanned the jungle. “What are they guarding?”

“I’m not sure. I believe the corpse grove is just beyond the ridge.” Malyck unholstered one of his pistols.

Ceara looked at him inquisitively. “Do your weapons actually have that kind of range?” she questioned.

Malyck glanced at her for a moment then back to the courtiers. “Sadly, no. We’ll have to move closer.”

“Others might be nearby. They’ll hear your shot.” Liathlas cautioned. “If we get close, I could stealth us to take them out fast.”

Malyck nodded. “That seems like the best way to take care of them.” Returning his pistol to its holster.

“Hopefully, none of our other friends are waiting for us in that brush.” Liathlas muttered as they started moving through the jungle again. Slowly they crept through the thick foliage, cautiously making their path. They paused again as they neared the courtiers.

“That’s my rifle…and my pistol…and my saber…and my other things.” Ceara hissed through her teeth, eyeing the courtier who was fidgeting with the futuristic looking weapon. Liathlas looked at her, placing her finger over her lips giving Ceara a signal to keep quiet.

“Well, it is!” Ceara whispered harshly to her. Liathlas gave Ceara a perturbed look. Ceara glared back at her a moment.

“Those weapons they have set up. They must have used them to launch those cannisters into the grove below.” Malyck stated. “Looks like three guards.”

“Charr mortars, by the looks of them.” Ceara added.

“And the one with your rifle looks somewhat worried.” Liathlas also added, noticing the courtier seemed to be fidgeting nervously.

“It doesn’t matter. He dies either way.” Ceara glared at him. “How do you want to do this?” she whispered to Malyck.

He thought for a moment. “I’ll walk towards them out of the jungle like I’ve been hurt, and try to pull them close, dropping their guard. Both of you stealth and try to position yourselves to take them down quickly when I give the signal.

“What will the signal be?” Liathlas asked.

“You will know. Now.” Malyck slowly stood, clutching his right shoulder. Hunching over, he hobbled slowly through the brush, his breathing labored. The duo watched him as he slowly entered the clearing. Liathlas waved her hand, casting her stealth field causing them to disappear.

“H-Help…” Malyck stammered as he clumsily shuffled across into the clearing. “Help me…”

The courtiers turned towards him. “Halt!” one of them ordered. “Come no further!”

“Help…” Malyck gasped as he dropped to the ground. One of the courtiers motioned to Caelan to stay put by the cannisters. They approached him; weapons drawn.

“Not one of us.” One of them sneered, shoving Malyck’s head with his foot.

“Put him out of his misery.” The coutier brought his sword up. Malyck rolled out of the way as the point of the blade came down, piercing into the dirt.

“Just as I thought!” the courtier snarled. Clones of Liathlas appeared near them and attacked. Malyck pulled his pistol and shot the courtier that attempted to stab him..

Caelan took aim at one of the clones when Ceara appeared in front of him.

“Ma…madam…” he stammered. She snatched the rifle from his hands, then proceeded to strike him in the jaw with the stock of the weapon, knocking him out. Powerup in the rifle, she turned to see her comrades finishing the other guard. She looked down at Caelan, who lay unconscious, his mouth open.

“Still catching flies with that maw of yours.” Ceara shook her head. She undid her holster from his waist, strapping it around herself. She saw some of her other gadgets sitting on top of the stack of cannisters, which bore some familiar writing. She grabbed one, staring at it.

“What is it?” Liathlas asked as she approached.

“Spores…toxic gas…from the Nightmare tower. The same used as in Lion’s Arch.”

“Are you…are you sure?” Liathlas asked very concerned. They looked out over the grove below as Ceara looked over the mortars.

“They bombarded that area to clear out the mordrem.”

“Then we can use this supply against them while they are searching for the seed.” Malyck suggested.

“I’m not sure that would work. I would imagine Nafiona and company would have some kind of antidote handy in the event of it being used against them.” She looked the cannister over, turning it upside down. “It explodes above the air, spreading the gas over an ar-“ A light lit up and the cannister beep.

“Thorns!” Ceara spat as she threw it as hard as she could over the ridge. It exploded in the air.

“Double thorns.” She gasped.

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

“What is going on up on the ridge?” Nafiona turned to see the remnants of the exploded spore cloud dissipating in the air near the cliff wall. “Ordhran, check to see what those fools are doing up there.” She ordered.

“Yes, m’lady.” He bowed to her and marched towards the vine bridge.

“A lone soldier?” Liathlas asked as they watched Ordhran crossing the vine bridge.

“I could take him down from here.” Ceara brought the rifle up.

“No, that would only draw more of them. Wait until he reaches us.” Malyck backed away from the ridge. The others followed.

It wasn’t long before Ordhran reached the crest of the ridge. He stopped momentarily before reaching the end of the pathway, focusing his hearing.

“Silence. Doesn’t bode well.” He thought to himself. He brandished his sword and shield, moving cautiously up the path. Cresting the ridge, he projected a force shield just in time as he was bombarded by mesmer attacks. He turned and ran as fast as he could back towards the corpse grove.

“Briars!” Liathlas shouted.

“Stop him!” Malyck yelled. The trio rushed the ridge. Ceara fired her weapon at him, as did Malyck. The rounds bouncing off his force shield as Ordhran quickly rushed across the vine bridge. Ceara fired another round, hitting the ground at his feet.

“Thorns! Thorns! Thorns!” she cursed.

“Well, now they definitely know we’re here.” Liathlas muttered.

Ordhran ran into the grove to Nafiona. “M’lady! Scarlet Briar lives. And she has help.”

“Oh, really? That’s not surprising. How many?”

“I’m not sure. There were many. I was attacked immediately.”

“Well, then I guess we prepare for an assault. Get everyone at the ready.”

“Yes m’lady!” He bowed to her and turned. “Everyone to arms! Now!” he shouted. The command spread through the courtiers as they gathered quickly, bringing their weapons to bear.

“It seems our former acquaintance, Scarlet Briar, is up on the ridge, possibly with a small army. We’ll crush her, and her motley group with ease!” Nafiona announced. A raucous cheer rang through the air as the members of the Nightmare Court stood ready.

“M’lady, should we press the attack with a little surprise?” one courtier asked.

Nafiona looked at her and smiled. “Why yes, I believe we should. Mesmers place your portals now! We’re going to pay Madam Scarlet a visit!” The courtier, along with another opened ethereal portals of swirling energy in front of the group. “Attack!” Nafiona commanded. The group of sylvari rushed through the openings.

“Well, I guess we could use the mortars against them?” Ceara suggested to her compatriots. “I still don’t think it will do any good.”

“It’s our best bet right now.” Malyck rebuttaled.

“Um…we have a problem.” Liathlas spoke up, noticing two swirls of energy starting to form near them. “Mesmer portals.”

“Run! To the jungle!” Malyck shouted. Liathlas cast another stealth field about them, and the trio bolted for the dense foliage. The Nightmare Court poured out of the portals, taking up positions around the mortars and stack of cannisters. Nafiona followed them through.

“They have retreated, m’lady.” Ordhran announced. Nafiona’s eyes narrowed, and she scanned around the area.

“Judging by these tracks, it looks like they ran off into the jungle.” A courtier suggested as she knelt looking over footprints in the dirt.

“Get a scout party together and do a quick search of the area.” Nafiona ordered. The courtier bowed to her and pointed to two other sylvari to follow.

“Check on them.” Nafiona motioned towards two courtiers standing near their fallen comrades. Another checked on Caelan.

“These two are dead, m’lady.”

“And Caelan?”

“He’s alive.”

“Wake him.” She ordered. The courtier started trying to awaken the unconscious sylvari.

“Ordhran. It’s obvious the seed is not in the corpse grove.” She pondered a moment. “I dare say it is in the south. In the area where the jungle dragon fell.”

“M’lady?” he asked.

“The sun is starting to set so we’ll set up camp here for the night.” She said, turning to the large sylvari. “The mordrem will be active and we need to be prepared. Also…” she paused, a sly smile forming. “I believe there is a pact camp to the south. Send them a courier. Tell them…tell them that Scarlet Briar lives and is here in the jungle. It is believed that she is trying to resurrect Mordremoth.”

“With pleasure, m’lady.” He bowed to her. Nafiona chuckled to herself as she watched her followers start setting up the camp.  

[ficsnroses]

One Night - John Wick x Reader Oneshot

Essentially, John and reader meet for a fuck because he’s drained and its been a while since he’s smashed lol.

Word Count : 4K

Warnings : Smut, 18+ only. 

Summary : Being a devoted single father takes a toll on John Wick, which is why he craves release on a particularly lonely night.

« It tastes so sweet in the moment, an illusion that has wiped away all else. »

.

ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ; ɪᴛ ʜᴀs ᴛᴏ.

To the blare of his alarm, John barely managed his bleary eyes to wake. The air around his bedroom walls is cold, stoical. Sullen, glum morning light channels in, the weight of an empty spot beside him seems to exaggerate.

It had been a vacant, hallow spot for as long as he could remember.

Trudging, his feet hit the cold morning hardwood beneath him, dragging his aching bones to the washroom mirror. He yawns, his eyes have formed bags, he looks exhausted. The laugh lines that once kissed the corners of his eyes are no where to be found. His weary hand rakes through his hair, a glance at his clock lets him know he’d need to be swift.

Lily would wake soon.

When her mother left, all those years ago, John knew a piece of him shattered that day. Being young and in love, a cliché of old times, proved just an illusion to the actuality brimming beneath the surface.

Love wasn’t enough then. It wasn’t what she’d wanted.

She’d left before morning came, leaving John, and the memory of love; a mere deception in the distance.  But what she had left, meant more than the world itself to him.

She left Lily, their daughter. And for him, she was the semblance of hope above all, he so desperately needed.

.

“Sweetheart,” Moving her blanket off her shoulder, John lightly shakes his daughter, his voice calm, soothing. “Wake up, princess.”

She rubs her drowsy eyes, a small yawn emitting her lips as she turns to him. “Daddy, I’m sleepy.” She moans, covering her eyes with the blanket once more. John chuckles quietly, peeling it down again. “If you don’t wake up, you’ll be late.”

She groans quietly, her morning voice making John smile. For a 5 year old, she had quite the wit and intelligence. “Honey if you don’t go to school, you won’t be able to see your friends today.” John coos, gently stroking her beautiful maple hair.

She’d got it from her mum.

Sleepily, Lily sits up, immediately tucking herself into her father’s side. “Daddy, can we start school later? It’s too early and I’m always sleepy in the morning.” John giggles, catching her in a warm embrace as he holds her tiny figure, pressing a kiss to her locks. “I guess I’ll talk to them about it.” He smiles, shaking his head.

“Thanks daddy.” She yawns, on the verge of dozing off again, head tucked into John’s side.

“Alright. Let’s brush our teeth.” John says, standing, waiting for her to follow as he takes her hand.

.

7:49AM.

“Daddy, why does the sun go away?” Lily ponders out loud, muffled through a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Because it needs to sleep.” John replies, in a matter of fact tone, polishing his teeth beside her. It was a morning ritual; they always brushed their teeth together.

She furrows her brow, looking at him through the washroom mirror. “Why doesn’t it just sleep in the sky?”

Rinsing his mouth, John pats her head. “So you can go to sleep, silly.”

.

7:55AM.

With his brush equipped hand, John combs through her hair, positioning it just the way she liked, a nice, clean and crisp ponytail finished with her darling yellow bow. She absentmindedly fiddles with her stuffed bear, wondering again.

“Daddy, how big is New York?”

Securing her ponytail into place, making sure to go around exactly three times with the hair tie, John replies, staring intently at the job in front of him. “As big as the sky above it, obviously.”

She nods her head, slow, absorbing his answer. “Oh. Right. You’re smart daddy.” She acknowledges, gaze returning to her stuffed bear.

.

8:10AM.

With her favourite book propped beside her on the kitchen table, Lily swirls the cereal in her pink bowl, watching John move around the kitchen. Her legs swing inattentively, her inquisitive thoughts leaving her lips again.

“Daddy, do fishies sleep with their eyes closed?”

John packs her lunch into her backpack, watching her from the peripherals of his eye. “Hmm, I’ve never asked them. Maybe next time we go to the beach.”

Her eyes light up, glowing to the thought of a day at the beach, with her favourite rainbow coloured floaties. “Can we go right now?”

John rolls his eyes, smiling. Flipping the food in the pan, he replies once again. “Finish your breakfast, sweetheart.”

.

8:30AM.

“Alright, sweetie. Have a great day at school.” John wishes her goodbye, placing a wholesome kiss to her forehead. With his stocky fingers, he perfectly positions the straps of her tiny backpack securely on her shoulders. “I love you.”

“Love you too daddy!” She waves giggling, running off with her friends to the classroom door. John shoves his hands in his jean pockets, turning on the balls of his feet to the walk back towards his beloved Mustang.

He stays reserved, quiet, much to himself. Caught up in providing for, and taking care of Lily, John had forgot to make much of a social life of his own along the way. Much of the life John knew, the few friends he’d made, tied threads with his past.

He didn’t want Lily to be subject to that.

He’d worked far too hard to leave the world of gore; for her.

His ears catch dialogue, the woman around the school yards who’d also come to drop off their children, swooning his way.

“He’s soooo dreamy.” 

“Can you believe he’s a single dad?”

.

The rest of the day drifts by, the lonesome hours while Lily would be away usually allowed John to focus on his own hobbies. Between binding books, and working on his Mustang, John did sometimes wish he had something more.

He’d become accustomed to having Lily, and no one else.

He’d be the best father he could for her, there was no denying it. He’d be everything she needed, and more. He’d shield her from any harm, be there for her when perhaps no one else would.

But who would be there for him?

It was in reveries like this, that John felt the most alone. It was on days like today; as the sun peered down on his sweat beat forehead, the rays gleaming across the horizon he’d see so far. The city filled in the distance, lives blooming in each corner as he polished the rims of his car.

She was a beauty; she was. With her spotless gray paint, perfectly glossed onto the surface. Not a chip in site, the leather seats stitched to perfection, the smell of fresh linen gracing the interior. But she was just a car. She’d listen. But she’d never reply.

He didn’t have anyone to share his sorrows with,

and that had been the sour truth.

.

“Daddy, Chloe said she had that new princess movie I wanted to see at her house. She said we’re gonna watch it tonight.” Lilly babbles, holding onto her father’s hand as they walk back to his car after school.

“Tonight?” John questions, confused.

Chloe sighs, her tiny voice mirroring annoyance. “Daddy did you forget? Today’s our sleepover!”

“Right. Sleepover.” John mumbles, eyes focused on the ground below. Lily and her best friend had occasional sleepovers, they’d always looked forward to them. John however, preferred not to send Lily away from him over night. He liked to make sure she was safe, protected, and near at all times. But he didn’t want her to miss out on the joys of being a child. He never wanted her to fall short of anything, even if that meant once in while he’d have to let her go.

He’d prefer for the girls to stay at his house each sleepover, but sadly, that wasn’t how it works.

“First, we’re going to finish your homework though, alright?” John asserts, opening the car door for her. She nods slowly, frowning. “Okay. I got really hard math work today, addition and subtraction.” She sighs.

“Addition and subtraction?” John gives her a shocked face. “Oh boy, that’s tough stuff! We’ll figure it out though. Together.” John kisses her head, buckling the seat belt over her.

.

8:14PM.

John stands, leaning on the bathroom counter, his dreary eyes glancing down, arms and muscles tense. He sighs a breathy exhale, stiffness overtaking his body. He’d dropped off Lily after working through her homework with her. He’d made sure to pack her bag with everything she needed, hand wrote a special note for her to read before bed, wishing her a goodnight and reminding her of how much he loves her. He’d stowed in her favourite stuffed bear, she had trouble sleeping without it.

John loves his life with Lily, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

But then why did it feel like there was something always missing? As if no matter how much he tried to convince himself, that this was okay, that he didn’t need more, his deliberations seemed to blur indefinitely. As if he wasn’t even sure he believed himself anymore.

Being a dad, a single dad is tough. It drains him, albeit he won’t let it show.

But sometime, he feels as if he needs something. Needs to feel something. Needs something to remind him, that he is only human.

But then why does he feel guilt?

Temporary relief, relaxation, substances; he’d experienced them all. A drink at the end of a hard day had always been divine, celestial, but he couldn’t depend on that anymore. He has responsibilities, a life to take care of. A mentor, an exemplar to be.

He exhales, a breath falling his lip that he hadn’t knew he’d held.

Everyone needs relief sometimes. Liberation from the hardships of everyday life. Everyone needs someone sometimes. For John, there was only one person who could be that release. It had seemed the stars aligned tonight, he was home alone, and he thought he could use some company.

He needed that company, severely. He thinks he’d go insane without. It had been too far without.

His phone sits still in his grip as he dials the number, fairly familiar, yet distant. He usually didn’t let his mind go to that place, a piece of him always felt as if he was betraying his daughter; seeking fulfillment of his own selfish needs.

The truth was, he’d forgot how to do things for himself.

He forgot how it felt to acknowledge his own needs;

  for connection.

He hears her voice on the other end, silken sweet. “Hello?”

It’s a relief to hear her voice. A reminder that she hasn’t forgotten him, hasn’t decided she wanted nothing to do with him. “Hey, Y/N. How are you?”

“I’m great! How are you? What’s up?” She inquires.

“I’m doing alright. I uh-” His voice falls flat, unsure of how to continue. They’d had this conversation before, a few times. Although it had been a while, he didn’t want to intrude. “I wanted to ask if you were doing anything tonight?”

She understood what he meant, loud and clear. They’d shared this…consensual relationship before, they’d met years ago.

She takes a moment to reply. “No, not tonight.”

.

it tastes so sweet in the moment; an illusion that has wiped away all else.

but it shows no mercy to the agony that follows right after.

They knew each other well; they’d been here before. She found herself in John’s house, positioned in his California king as he watches her, eyes prolonging over her body beneath him. Shifting slow, she sits up slight, enough to pull off her shirt. He sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of her, lace adorned over her swollen breasts, waiting for him to peel off. Pursing forward, she allows him to circle his resilient arms around her, unhooking the piece that shields her modesty from him. The sight of her bare breasts make blood rush down to his member, turned on at how perfectly plump they look.

His touch is pure liberation, but not nearly enough. She needed all of him.

“This is okay, right?” John makes sure, cautious yet in the moonlit room, the filer of the glow allowing them to be seen, but discreet. Nodding, she pulls him down where their lips meet in a fervent kiss. Her hands polish over John’s sturdy back, feeling his bare skin and tensed muscles. She hoped she could help him tonight, she knew well that even he, deserved it.

Leaving open mouthed kisses to the corners of her lips, he moves slow, deliberate and unhurried down, lips grazing over her neck, her collarbone, his hands knead her breasts, feeling her shiver under his touch as they harden. Her fingers tangle his dark mane, gently tugging at the strands with her eyes flush shut. John had always been a giver; despite their arrangement tonight being a sole easement for him. John knows how to satisfy a lady; his experience disallows him to forget to prove it.

His lips move, beard scuffing over her stomach as he trails lower, his stock fingers undressing her bottom half, leaving her completely nude for him to take in. She can smell him, his scent so uniquely him, she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t craved it every now and then. Shuddering, her body jolts feeling his large palms explore each inch of her, taking in the canvas in front of him. His tongue leaves wet marks, the sounds already so sultry. Using his fingers to spread her folds, he presses a quick kiss to her clit, allowing two fingers to trudge into her cunt. Stifling moans escape her lips, helping him erect.

“John,” She whimpers, “Please don’t tease me today,” He watches her suck in a sharp breath, her soft moan making each nerve in his body snap at the thought of feeling her soon. “It’s been so, so long…”

Her hands work his pants, freeing his cock as she pulls him out. She rubs the tip against her clit, and they moan in unison. John’s eyes have rolled to the back of his head, feeling her soft, delicate hands on his member. If her hands felt this delicious, her pussy would do wonders. Moving up, she secures her hands on his bare shoulders, urging him to lay down beside her.

“Relax, baby…” She whispers, straddling him with her hands smoothing over his chest. In this moment, she remembers just how dreamy John really is; the way his beard lines perfectly trimmed, his espresso eyes glow in the moonlight, the way his mouth stays slightly a gape watching her, his breathing in and out slow, steady, writhing under her. John is a piece of art, although he doesn’t like to acknowledge it.

His large hand is already on his cock, lazily stroking as he watches her move down, tucking her hair behind her ear. With her hands on his thighs, she finally takes his tip into her warm, wet, heated mouth, sucking gently. John softly moans, his hand coming down to tangle in her hair. Using both his hands to keep her hair out of her face, he lets himself get a good view of her throatily bobbing her head on his throbbing cock. 

She remembers how he likes it; sloppy and wet. He elicits a deep moan, feeling her hands massage his balls. 

Swirling her mouth over his veins, she hallows her cheeks, making it tight as could be for him, her warm, soaking tongue gliding across his cock, her jaw loosening to take more and more. The sounds her sinful lips are making, the suction, the slurps,  could make any man fall weak. Every now and then, she lets out a hum, the vibrations against his cock shoved deep inside her mouth, making him feel so unholy

Making John feel good was almost addicting; watching the way his small breath let out praiseful moans, his tone husky as his lips part, shuddering under her.

He reaches down to rub her slit, spreading her wetness as he prepares her folds for the taking. The anticipation is building; John can barely remember how it feels to be buried deep inside someone. With the stressors and responsibilities caving him down, he’d forgotten to let himself feel anything in a while.

John needed this. He needed release. Quite literally, he needed to cum and he needed it soon. In this moment, she was all he had.

All that could liberate him.

Reaching over to the bedside table, John moves his hand to the very back, buried deep, deep inside where they couldn’t be found by anyone. A box of condoms, long forgotten. He gives himself a few tugs, preparing to take her. Fishing out and opening the sliver lining, he allows it to slip onto his aching cock, pulsating for any relief to come its way. She watches him, biting her lip. 

She’d almost forgotten how big John was, how he’d leave her sore and tender after a steamy session.

With his cock firm in her palm, she moves on him, lining her entrance. Slow, sensual, she sinks down on him, they both sigh in relief, John lets out a groan of pleasure, eyes shut tight with the feel of her heavenly walls tightening around him. She’s warm, wet and tight, blissfully gratifying.

Moving slow at first, she allows them to savour each inch of each other, John’s hands planting on her hips, guiding. He’s practically panting under her, deep voice smooth as butter as he moans her name, letting her know how grateful he is for her in this moment. 

“Fuck, please keep going,” he whispers needily, eyes watching her glide on his cock, hands pressed to his chest. Grabbing his hands, she guides them to her breasts, urging him to cup them hard as she bounces herself up and down on him. Tensing his jaw, his lips part, watching her meet him halfway with her bounces on his cock as he thrusts up into her, his hands holding her ass.

His eyes roll shut and he bites his lip, the sounds of her wetness slicking him fill the room, each time he sinks in and out. His cock glistens with her slickness, she brings her hand over her mouth to cage a loud moan threatening to surface. Whimpering, she bites her arm in complete ecstasy, the feel of John throbbing, completely filling her whole becoming much.

“You okay, darling?” John inquires, satiny voice quiet and deep as his fingers kiss her cheek. She merely nods, eyes clasped shut, soft moans escaping. “Yeah..” She sobs, holding in her yelps.“You just feel so good.”

Moving slow, John shifts her under him in a swift motion, not wanting her to do all the work. Her legs wrap around his waist as they both glance down. At first, he merely glides his cock over her folds, teasing her clit. Slow, watching him slip himself back between her legs, her nails dig into his back, cock stretching her almost painfully. Rocking his hips slow, they focus on just feeling each other whole, the feeling of having someone to spend the night with, the feeling of nothing but all things good.  She clenches around him, sighing in sweet, sweet relief, legs trembling from how well he was already pounding her, seconds in.

“Harder, John.” She winces, feeling his cock hit her end. He’s grunting, exiting her fully each time before slamming back in, hearing her whimpers and yelps so loud at the sensation. His thrusts pick up, erratic and imperative, lips moving along her chest as they leave small marks. Into her neck, he presses a few sloppy kisses to the satin skin, sucking and nipping.

“Does that feel good?” He whispers, holding onto her waist tight, the pads of his fingers threatening to leave bruises.

“So good.” She whimpers, feeling every nerve in her body close to snapping, legs shaking. John sees her grit her teeth, small, breathy moans releasing as she pants. Her breasts move up and down on her chest to his pace, the sounds of his skin slapping hers delectable in the quiet midnight. Wrapping her hands around his shoulders, she pulls him closer to feel his skin against hers. Crashing his lips to hers, John begs for entrance, tasting her. His deep voice, paired with the feel of his girthy cock, each vein, each curve slamming against her; his pumps become urgent, cock throbbing, twitching between her.

Jerking his hips faster, cock grinding her g spot each time, his breath is hot on her lips as he pulls away, their foreheads connect as he continues pumping into her now, his thrusts ridged and rough. For a moment, they stare intently into each others eyes, focusing on the feel of each other, and everything in that moment, the way they fit together so fucking good. Trembling and whimpering, she knows she’s close. His cock moves swift in and out, pounding spots inside her that nearly make her lose her breath. Deeper, harder, the pressure builds in her core, she’s already sore from the pace he’s executing and his massive size.

The bed creeks, hitting the walls although neither of them perceive to care. John grunts, with her hands holding his biceps firm, beads of sweat gleaming his forehead. Sultry and deep, his voice soothes. 

“You feel so good tonight...so tight...” He bites his lip. “So wet.” Closing his eyes again, he sighs as her fingers tangle his dark mane, his face nuzzling her neck, hips still thrashing in and out of her. “So fucking wet.”

“The way you’ve always liked it.” She whimpers, gasping as he hits her perfect nerves each time. “I’m so close John, please don’t stop. Please.” She begs, wailing, squirming under him. His skin slaps hers, hastily, senselessly. He’s pushing as much as himself possible into her, and she can’t help but scream, bringing her arms tighter around him.

John twitches inside her, his throbbing cock jammed deep inside her clenched cunt, the pleasure is becoming too much, he knows he won’t last long. She drips down her thighs each time he pulls out, only to slam back in. 

“Let go for me, Y/N.” John encourages her, his hands coming back to cup her breasts as she lets out an ear-splitting moan into his neck. With a particularly deep, harsh thrust, she comes all over his cock, sending piercing shocks through her mind. Thoughts hazing, the only feeling she feels is the oblivion he’s spilled into her as he grunts, moaning loud with his creamy load spilling deep, deep inside her.

He moans her name, coming down from their highs with his head buried in between her nude breasts. Their skin is flushed, clinging together as they pant, trying to catch their breath. She wraps her arms around him tighter, her hands soothingly stroking his hair, his cock still buried inside her. 

Slow, John moves his head up to look at her, resting his weight on his hands as he disconnects himself from her. “Are you alright, Y/N?” He asks, making sure she was okay. She nods, never breaking eye contact.

It felt good in the moment,

But now, he can’t help but feel guilt. Guilt that he’s used her, guilt that this isn’t what he’s supposed to be doing.

He has responsibilities, things to take care of, and here he was, in the middle of the night, fucking a woman he had immense respect for. Someone he once called a close friend.

Cautiously, he pulls out of her, his cock falling flaccid, coated with her creamy releases. Reaching beside the bed, he wipes himself clean with a few tissues, offering one to her as well. Exhausted, he falls beside her on his bed, both facing the ceiling as she brings the duvet up to cover her breasts. There’s a silence between them, as they collect their thoughts.

They know both their minds are racing a mile a minute; although neither of them dare say a word. She knows John feels guilty, she knows he has a heart of gold.

She’d come to learn that over the years.

Quiet, she speaks into the silent of the room. Her hand moves slow, resting on his forearm as his eyes stay focuses on the roof, chest still rising and falling. “John?” She murmurs, voice soft. He turns his gaze to her, nodding gently.

“I wanted this. And you deserved it.” She comforts. “This, was okay.”

His eyes gloss, expression wounded. Perhaps it had been the way his life had played out that caused him to always feel guilt. Guilt in everything. She knew that; she knew him well.

“John,” She starts, rubbing his arm. “I know people have not been kind to you. You’re doing everything you can, and I admire that.” Biting her lip, she makes a daring move, holding his hand now. “I’m here to listen if you need me.”

He nods, inhaling deep, grateful for her kind words. But perhaps, he’d forgotten how to feel. Perhaps he’d forgotten how to be human. Perhaps he’d been royally fucked. Too far gone for saving.

           but morning will come; it has to.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

If you guys like this, I could potentially revisit them in the future!

Taglist Posted Seperatly (Ask to be added or removed!)

[afterglowlws]

Lily Luthor

(I never write fanfics, nor really read them, so sorry if this idea has been done before. I started writing out of boredom in quarantine and figured I’d share it. So enjoy some Supercorp ❤️)

Kara gasps for breath as her eyes fly wide open, her vision slowly focusing in on the flickering lights on the ceiling above her. She feels the cold ground beneath her, but when she sits up and looks around she can’t quite place where she is. As she scans the room she finds its mostly empty and abandoned with not a soul in sight.

She had chains around her wrists that were bolted to the floor, and just long enough for her to stand up and move around a little. They were lined in Kryptonite, so there was no point in trying to break free. The lights abruptly cut off before coming back on a moment later, Lex appearing a few feet away from her.

She can already feel the rage taking over. Had he drugged her? Knocked her out? She couldn’t recall how she got there. All she knew is that she wanted to freeze breath him until he slipped into a hypothermic coma. She was still groggy so Lex kicked things off.

“Supergirl, fancy meeting you here.” He said with his signature, smug smirk.

“What do you want?” Kara spit out through clenched teeth.

“Actually, I think I have something you may want.” His tone was a bit less playful this time, business-like almost.

“What could I possibly want from you?”

“Information.”

There was a brief pause and she looked at him inquisitively, not exactly sure what game he was trying to play.

“I don’t trust any information that comes from a Luthor.” She stated sharp and firmly.

“Even if it’s Lena?” He questioned, knowing it would absolutely strike a nerve. He saw the fire practically light up in her eyes at the mere mention of her name.

“Don’t you dare bring her into this.” Kara warned, her glare becoming unnerving even to Lex.

“Have I struck a nerve, Supergirl? She is my sister after all. It’s my job to protect her. Especially from Kryptonians like you.” His remark caused her cheeks to display a bright shade of pink, he assumed it was the rage showing itself.

“You lost the right to call her your sister the moment you decided to hurt and manipulate her. She has a family now, and it’s not the Luthors. So don’t you dare talk to me about keeping my Lena safe. I’d die for her, and we both know it, don’t we?” She had stepped closer to him during her furious rant, she was practically yelling in his face. It only infuriated her more that he seemed somewhat amused by it.

“I know you would. It’s sad really..that you’d give up everything for her while she’s still lying to you. Unrequited love is truly one of life’s greatest travesties isn’t it?” He said, obviously amused with himself.

“I’m not that naive, Lex. If anyone is lying, it’s you to yourself. She killed you for me, remember? You don’t know anything about us, she loves me with her entire heart.” Lex was annoyed by the arrogance of her statement, she was going to be harder to manipulate than he anticipated. He hoped that after all the lying and fighting they did, that she’d still be really skeptical and on edge when it came to Lena. But on the contrary, she had more faith in her than ever. He should’ve known Kara would dive straight back into her blind and unwavering love for Lena, she could never help herself. He just didn’t expect her to be completely and totally wrapped back around her finger already.

“She may have killed me for you, but that was before she knew you betrayed her. She never stopped working with me. She’s been lying to you all this time, and really it wasn’t hard. I mean how long did it take for you to forgive her after all that she did to you, like one day? You make it way too easy, Kara.” He let out a haunting chuckle, and she was equally as annoyed as she was irritated now.

“I don’t believe you.” Was all she cared to say, she didn’t have to explain her reasons to a psychopath.

However, he already knew why. He had held this card for a long time but he was about to play it, she needed to be thrown off her game. “Of course you don’t. Why would you want to believe the woman you’re in love with is deceiving you?”

Kara just froze, not even knowing how to react to what he just said. “I..I..what? I’m not in love with her. She’s my best friend.” She tried not to seem shocked, but the stuttering and the bewildered look on her face betrayed her.

“Is that what you tell yourself? Red Daughter read your diaries and she seemed to think otherwise. In fact, Red Daughter was weirdly obsessed with Lena. I didn’t quite understand it at first until I realized she’s just a blank-slated copy of you. And it finally made sense.”

Kara never trusted a word out of this mans mouth, but for some reason she could tell he was telling the truth on this one.

“I’m not gonna argue with you, Lex. You’d say anything to divide us and I won’t let that happen. So you might as well let me go.” She huffed out, just bored of his antics at this point.

“Fine. I didn’t want to have to do this, but I guess you leave me no choice.” He paused for dramatic effect before continuing, he always liked to put on a show. “Lily, come on out.” He called out. A very strikingly beautiful girl walked into sight, she looked like a teenager.

Kara looked at the girl and immediatley sensed something familiar about her. It wasn’t until she locked eyes with her that she started to peice some things together and she just wanted to burst into tears, but she tried to keep her composure as much as possible. Although she knew the look on her face had to be giving her shock and confusion away. When she looked into this girls eyes she just froze dead in her tracks, the same way she did when she first locked eyes with Lena that day at L-Corp all those years ago.

Lily had Lena’s eyes, there was absolutely no doubting that. Kara had stared just a little too deeply into Lena’s eyes just a little too often to not see it. They were big, bright, and round, but more distinctly she had one eye that was green and one that was more blue. She couldn’t even find the words to say to Lex. She wasn’t even sure exactly what this situation was, but what she knew without a doubt was that this girl was a Luthor.

“Who...who is this? Do you have a daughter? Or another sister I didn’t know about?” Kara questioned, a puzzled look still on her face.

“No, no. I don’t have a daughter. But you do now.” He motioned to Lily with his eyes and Kara’s mind was racing so fast she was pretty sure she almost passed out from forgetting to breathe. The echo of Lex’s thunderous tone bounced off the walls and back to Kara, but the word daughter would’ve still been ringing in her ears anyways, though. She was flooded with a myriad of emotions that she couldn’t seem distinguish from each other.

“Lex, what the hell are you talking about? What did you do?” Her tone was demanding but her face was pleading for answers.

“I did what I needed to do. I needed an enemy that even the girl of steel couldn’t defeat. You have two weaknesses in this world, Kara, your family and Lena. So I figured..why not combine the two? So I stole a DNA sample from you and Lena both and voila..the first lab grown baby was made.”

She tried so hard to push the tears back but some of them surfaced anyways. She was trying really hard not to look at Lily, it only made it worse. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to tell him that he had no right to violate their privacy and steal DNA. That he had no right to have a child for them. As much as she daydreamed every single day that Lena would marry her someday and have adorable half kryptonian babies with her..she wanted Lena to choose to do that with her. She felt like she had been stripped of any ounce of free will she had.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed Lex but that is no baby. This doesn’t make any sense.” Kara said trying to make any sense out of this situation at all but failing.

“Well a baby wouldn’t be of much use to me. I may have stolen some tech during my brief visit to the waveraider during the last crisis, so I was able to go to the future and get Lily once she turned 16. But don’t worry, baby Lily is still safe in the lab. For now.” His haunting revelation sent chills up Kara’s spine. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She already dreaded the fact that she had to find a way to tell Lena all of this.

“Lex, I swear to god if you’re telling the truth and you hurt our baby..I will show you no mercy.” Kara growled menacingly. She looked at Lily again, more tears threatening to spill. It blew her mind that the girl standing before her was half herself, and half the woman she’d been in love with for years now. She’d always viewed Lena as such a pure soul despite the darkness she’d experienced all her life, so the thought of something happening to the girl that shared half of her DNA..it made Kara’s blood boil.

“Well, Lily was alive and well with her siblings when I went to the future. That means if you do everything I say, she’ll be perfectly fine.” He threatened, his tone was sadistic in nature. Kara was stunned when she heard the word ‘siblings’ but she honestly didn’t want to know anything more, this was all too much already.

“Lily, why are you working with him?” She questioned, looking at the girl with pleading eyes. The girl, however, stayed stone faced.

“Don’t bother, Kara. Sweet Lily here only does what I tell her she can do. Q Waves are a very wonderful thing.” The words spilled happily from his mouth, this is the exact exasperated reaction he’d hoped to get from the Kryptonian.

He took a few more jabs at the girl of steel just for fun before finally letting her go, of course not releasing her until he was somewhere out of sight and safe. Coward, was the only word Kara was thinking. He may have let her go, but it was on one condition: she goes to tell Lena the information she just learned. The thought of the conversation had Kara in tears already. There were so many thoughts swirling through her head that she could barley fly back to the DEO without running into a few buildings. Nothing about this was right. What if Lena was upset they had a baby together because she didn’t love her back? Knowing that this meant the world to her, but could possibly mean nothing to Lena terrified her. She obviously wanted kids under extremely different circumstances...but once again she couldn’t not love anything with Lena’s DNA in it.

She landed on the DEO balcony and just stood there frozen for a moment. Alex and Lena, who were conversing nearby, noticed Kara standing out there in deep thought. She looked conflicted and upset. They both stopped their conversation to walk over to her worriedly. Kara looked up and locked eyes with Lena as they made their way over, and Lena noticed her eyes started to water more. Seeing Lily’s eyes only moments before, and seeing the way they paralleled with Lena’s, made her feel like she was going to break down before she even got to start.

“Kara, what’s wrong?” Alex queried with her signature sisterly concern. “I, um..Can I get a moment alone with Lena?” Kara fidgeted nervously, she looked like she was ready to crawl out of her own skin. Now Lena was even more concerned than before. “Yeah. Of course.” Alex was just more worried now than she was, but she’d just have to wait for an explanation.

“Kara, you’re worrying me. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” Lena took a step closer to her, it always made Kara feel weak in the knee’s when Lena got that serious look on her face, or just got anywhere in her personal space at all. It took her a solid few months of friendship to learn to form a coherent sentence with Lena that close to her.

“Not a ghost...your brother. He..Lena he went to the future.” Kara’s anxiety was spiking by the second.

“To the future? What could he possibly want there?” The inquisitive look on Lena’s face started to contort into pure concern, especially because Kara looked like she might faint once the words finally left her mouth.

“Kara, what did Lex take from the future?” Lena pressed harder, her unease taking over her normally stoic exterior.

“Our daughter.” Kara finally spit out, she almost dropped from relief until she saw the puzzled look occupying Lena’s face.

“What? We don’t have a daughter?” Lena was trying to make sense of this in any way she could, she was being flooded with a lot of the same emotions Kara was now.

“Not yet.” Kara gulped and studied Lena’s face, trying to figure out what she was thinking, but to no avail. Her face was too many things at once to pinpoint.

“We..if we have a daughter does that mean we...?” Lena motioned between the two of them before she trailed off, but it still sounded like a question she expected Kara to answer. Kara wishes she didn’t know exactly what she was talking about. But she did. She was being confronted with the thing that terrified her more than anything else in the world: admitting her feelings to Lena. Maybe she could beat around the bush and avoid it, but she knew that at some point during this situation it would come out, even if it wasn’t right at this moment. She had a decision to make. It didn’t help that Lena was staring at her with those eyes that made her absolutely melt.

“Um, I..uh..I don’t know. He used our DNA to make her in a lab. But he did mention Lily had other siblings in the future.” A soft smile dared to surface on Kara’s lips at the thought of raising a family with Lena.

“Lily?” Lena asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth too. She knew she should probably be freaking out at the whole lab baby revelation, but all she could think about was how cute a baby that was half Kara had to be. She was also smiling at the fact that she’d always wanted to name her first born Lily. She was glad to know her future self got to do that, even if it wasn’t in the most conventional way. It made Kara give a real, big smile this time. “Yeah. She’s beautiful, Lena. She looks just like you.” Kara grinned with a softness that gave Lena way too many butterflies.

“Really?” Lena questioned with a slight blush.

“Mhm. I don’t know where she got the auburn hair, but she has your eyes. I knew she was related to you before Lex ever even opened his mouth. I could recognize those eyes anywhere.” Kara heard Lena’s breath hitch and her heart rate increase. That tended to happen when Kara complimented her.

“Is she as sweet as you are?” Lena flirtingly grinned at her, grinning even bigger when she saw Kara blushing.

“I would hope so. But I didn’t get to talk to her. Lex is controlling her using Q waves, so she just stood there silently.”

“So he’s turned our daughter into his personal robot? Why?”

“Because he wants to take me down. That’s why he went to the future and got her once she turned 16. He wants to use her as a weapon, and he knows that the second I look into her eyes.. I won’t be able to fight her.” Kara’s admission made Lena want to melt into a puddle of emotions.

“I know you don’t want to hurt your own blood Kara, but we have to be prepared for the fact that he will make her hurt you.” Lena’s tone was soft and sympathetic.

“It’s not that, Lena. I...Can I admit something to you? So you can understand why I’m so worried?”

“Of course.” The intensity of her gaze made Kara’s entire body feel like it was on fire.

“Several months ago when we were still fighting, I got another visit from Mxyzptlk..he told me he could send me back in time to try telling you my secret earlier, to fix things. But it seemed like no matter when I told you, things always went wrong. So I thought maybe you’d be better off if you had just never met me. But when I went to that timeline.. you were a dictator. You’re family had kidnapped and tortured you and you went down a really dark path. You had a Kryptonite heart and you were blasting me with it. But I...I just took it. The second I looked into your eyes..I couldn’t make myself fight you. Even though it wasn’t the real you I just couldn’t do it. I would’ve died if Mxy hadn’t of gotten me out of there in time.” Admitting this made Kara want to fall over and die in this timeline too, but she needed Lena to understand why she was so worried. Because no matter how much she didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of her crush, they were in this together. Lena was the only one that truly understood the weight of this situation.

Lena just stood there stunned. “Wow..I-I don’t know what to say. I think I’m flattered?”

“You should be, I wouldn’t have done that for anyone else.” A blush was rising in both of their cheeks now. Lena tried to hide it by changing the subject back, but the smile on her face spoke volumes

“So if he got her from the future then where is baby Lily?” Lena always enjoyed flirting with Kara, but right now her worry for her daughter was plaguing her mind.

“He said he has her in his lab.”

“What? We have to go get her! We might not be able to take down teenage Lily right now, but we cannot let Lex near our baby.” Lena was slightly panicked now that she realized Lex had baby Lily too.

Lena was taken back by the grin on Kara’s face, so she spoke up again. “Kara, he has our baby, how are you not panicking right now?”

“Sorry, I am. I just.. Im not used to hearing that.” She still couldn’t wipe the grin off her face, even as panicked as she was.

“What?”

“Our baby.” Now Kara wasn’t the only one smiling.

“Yeah, it has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” Lena didn’t understand how she was so excited and so terrified at the same time. She was terrified at the thought of being a mother, because she never had an example of what a good mother looks like. But the thought of having Kara to figure it out with? That made her stomach erupt with butterflies.

“It does. We need to go let the team know what’s going on so we can come up with a plan. And then you and I have a lot to talk about.” Kara’s tone was more serious this time, she was in mission mode now.

They went and gathered the team together and gave them a run down of the situation. Their faces looked just as shocked as Kara and Lena’s did at first. Most of them knew Kara and Lena were in love with each other, but they didn’t expect their first child to happen this way.

“Brainy?” Lena asked as they were all gathered around the table brainstorming.

“Yes Ms. Luthor?”

“Did you know?” Lena’s tone wasn’t accusing, just genuinely curious.

“I was aware that in the future L-Corp created the technology to create offspring from two female organisms, however I was not aware that Lex was responsible for Lily’s conception. I was not entirely sure how she was conceived until now, actually. I was afraid to ask.” Brainy wished so badly he could comfort them by telling them the truth about the future. That they end up having the cutest wedding he’d ever witnessed, and had 3 beautiful daughters together. Kara had insisted they all take on the Luthor name, to show how proud she was to help her rebrand it as a source of good. To show her how proud she was to be with her. They were the true definition of happily ever after.

“He..he’s not responsible for the others right?” Kara was embarrassed to even ask for a multitude of reasons, but she had to know.

“Wait, others?” A confused look was evident on Alex’s face.

“You don’t have to worry, Ms. Danvers. Lucian and Lexa Luthor were entirely your own doing.” Brainy’s answer cleared up Alex’s question while also raising about 50 more.

“I have about a million questions and as much as I want to unpack this, we need to start moving within the hour. I’ll be damned if I let Lex hurt my neice.” Lena and Kara recognized Alex’s protectiveness, they’d seen it with Ruby many times before. It made Lena so happy to know that Alex would be an amazing enough aunt to Lily to make up for the fact that her uncle was insane.

They all came up with a game plan and we’re getting ready to move soon. At this point Kara was just a bundle of nerves. Lena noticed, so she went and got a peice of tech she’d been working on. It only took about 15 minutes of tinkering to code it to what Kara needed specifically.

“Hey Kara, before you go..” Lena pulled the small peice of tech from her pocket and presented it to Kara. “I know you’re worried that you won’t be able to fight her if you have to see her eyes, so I made you this.”

“What is it?”

“It’s called ArkAngel. It’s still in its trial run stage, but it’s normally for parents who want to censor obscenity from their children. It blocks out stressful stimuli from the users vision. I wired it to block out Lily’s eyes. You’ll be able to see her, but from the nose up she’ll be blurry.” Lena explained.

“Wow, thank you. You’re a life saver.” Kara said grabbing it from her.

“I just need you and Lily to make it home safe. I can’t lose you again, Kara. And I can’t lose our daughter before I’ve even gotten the chance to meet her.” Kara could see the emotion swelling up in Lena’s eyes. Lena tried to present herself as cold and stoic, but Kara saw the real her. The Lena that was sensitive and compassionate and loving. Seeing that side of Lena for the first time all those years ago is what changed her small crush into being full on in love with her.

Kara engulfed her in a tight hug. “You won’t lose me, Lena. I will always come home to you. And from now on so will Lily. I swear to you I will protect you both til the very end.”

Lena was so consumed with emotion she didn’t even know what to do with herself other than just cling as tightly to Kara as she could. “You’re still my hero, Kara Danvers, I hope you know that.“ Kara thought her heart was gonna explode. All she wanted to do in that moment was pull away from the hug, grab her face, and kiss her like she’d never been kissed before. But she knew it would leave her dizzy, and the last thing she needed to do before a mission was distract herself. So she settled for a sweet and loving kiss on the forehead. Lena pulled away to give her one last longing glance before she inevitably had to leave.

Kara flew to Lex’s lab and it was much bigger than she expected. She wandered around for what felt like an enternity trying to figure out where Lily might be, but in reality it was only a few minutes. She finally saw a sector of the building that was completely shut off by a big steel door. She knew that’s where she had to be. She walked up to it and saw a keypad that prompted the user for a 5 digit code. She knew it would take forever to try every 5 digit combination imaginable, so she asked for Brainys help over comm’s. He was able to disable it so it didn’t trigger any alarms. However, Kara wasn’t prepared for the fact that Lex had a failsafe. The minute she walked through the door an alarm starting blaring, announcing that Kryptonian DNA had been detected. First Clark had a Luthor protocol at the fortress, and now Lex had a Super protocol at his lab. ‘What is wrong with these guys?’ Was Kara’s first thought. Her second thought was pure panic. She knew she needed to find the baby and get out as quickly as possible. Teenage Lily would surely show up at any minute now.

After walking further down the hall, she heard a baby cry. Bingo! She knew which room she was in now. She went to bust through the door when she was flung back by a whirl of cold breath. Crap, Lily had the same superpowers as she did. “Not so fast, mom.” Lily called out menacingly. Kara had to keep reminding herself that this wasn’t the real Lily, this was all Lex.

“I know he’s controlling you, Lily, but you have to fight it. I don’t know you yet, but if you’re anything like Lena then I know you’re strong. You can beat this.”

The pep talk didn’t help, and Lily started charging at her. Kara had to pretend that she was some random villain to keep herself from breaking down. The fact that she was hurting her own daughter made her want to cry on the spot. But she knew it needed to be done. She finally had her pinned down and was about to knock her out when it happened. Lily smiled at her..and Kara froze. She wishes now that Arkangel had blurred out her entire face. She had Lena’s smile and dimples too. Crap.

In the few moments Kara hesitated, Lily was able to wrestle out from underneath her mothers strong grip to try and attack her one last time. As much as Kara wanted to break down and cry, she thought of her baby sitting in the other room alone and scared, and it gave her a second wind. She gave Lily one last devastating blow, enough to knock her out. It gave her enough time to go grab the baby and get out.

It didn’t fully register that she was holding a baby, her own baby, in her arms until after she was flying towards the DEO and out of harms way. She finally sighed a breath of relief and looked down at her baby for the first time. Even as a baby she looked so much like Lena. Her eyes were teary already. Partly because she just harmed her older daughter, and partly because her baby daughter was now safe and in her arms. Lily had stopped crying and was much calmer now, flying seemed to soothe her. Kara was just in awe.

She landed on the DEO balcony for the second time today, but this time she landed as a mother. She wasn’t sure what to make of that, but she couldn’t wait to see the look on Lena’s face when she saw their daughter for the first time.

Everyone came running up, but they stopped once they reached the door and let Lena have her moment with Kara first. “Kara you’re bleeding, what happened?” Lena said placing a hand on Kara’s cheek and stroking it gently.

“She apparently has your smile and dimples too, is what happened.” She grinned a little before more tears swelled up in her eyes.

“Even as a baby, she’s just as beautiful as her mother.” Kara added and now Lena was teary eyed too. She looked down at the baby in Kara’s arms and was just instantly infatuated. “Wow..” Was all that managed to escape her lips.

Both of their hearts were so full in that moment, it was a feeling neither of them had quite experienced before. While it may not have been the most conventional way to have a child, it still felt like the happiest day of their lives. Everyone was watching from afar, just absolutely swooning at how adorable this was.

“I love her already.” Kara was absolutely beaming now. “And I love you too, Lena Luthor. More than I’d like to admit.”

“Well I think finding out we have children together in the future kind of takes the surprise out of it but.. I love you too, Kara. I’ve been in love with you from the start.”

Kara looked up and locked eyes with her, her gaze was more intense than she’d ever seen it. This was it, she thought, it looked like the woman of her dreams was about to do what she’d been fantasizing about for years now. Lena gently grabbed her face and kissed her, and suddenly it felt like everything was right in the world. Kissing her soulmate made it feel like she was surrounded by magic. Like symphonies were playing and folktales were being written about their love.

The kiss was soft, loving, and sweet. Kara had never been kissed quite like that before. She just melted into it. When Lena pulled away she craved her taste her for just a second longer, but she was quickly snapped back into reality when she heard everyone awe’ing in the doorway. It just made Kara and Lena smile at each other. “Come on over, guys.” They said and everyone ran over to see the baby excitedly.

They spent several hours out buying baby stuff to take back to Lena’s apartment, and before Kara knew it she was agreeing to move in with her. She knew she still had to worry about teenage Lily tomorrow, but for the night she was just soaking up her newfound motherhood with the love of her life, who was now officially her girlfriend. She couldn’t have been happier.

After some long nights and tiring days, they eventually took Lex down and returned Lily safely to the future. Over the next 5 or so years, they added two additions to their family just like Brainy had said. Lexa and Lucian Luthor brought even more joy to their lives than they could’ve imagined. They were insanely, grossly happy. After everything they’d sacrificed and been though and lost, they were finally getting their fairytale ending.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading and I really hope you enjoyed it! Did anyone catch the Black Mirror reference? 😅

[adelindschade]

Inspired by THIS scene and how much Cece & Schmidt (New Girl) remind of Anthony & Kate in a modern sense (waggles fingers to Bridgerton & Sons AU plotted and published for all to cherish by @newtonsheffield)

I just had to write. How else is a girl to celebrate her two days off?? Enjoy the shenanigans. Script was slightly tweaked. 1,930 word count! 

A STIFF SITUATION (KATE X ANTHONY EDITION)

He wished he had opened his eyes when Anthony heard the very sharp click of the door handle turn. He would’ve anticipated who if he only spied sooner the figure crossing the panel of glass. Unfortunately, he prided his lids open too late, and he went rigid with the worst kind of anxiety.

Don’t be his brother. Don’t be his brother.

A fitted jogger suit came into view. Slimming. Stunning.

A curtain of hair wisped from shoulder to shoulder – long and dark and tied up into a ponytail, like a perfect waterfall.

Thank God.

Kate.

“Oh my God!”

He couldn’t help himself. It was a guttural reaction.

The groan was much louder than he anticipated, prompting her to pause under the arch with the most perplexed expression.

It was kind of cute, especially when no words came out of her mouth despite it being ajar.

“Are you serious right now?” He exasperated.

She blinked.

He continued before she could interject, more so to acquit himself than anything.

“How is it you still look this good under fluorescent lights?”

“I’m so, so sorry,” she began to pour out, a mix of panic and remorse. It didn’t suit her, he thought with furrowed brows. That wasn’t his Kate.

She had all but pushed the rolling divider that separated them to the wall in her haste to meet his side. “This is all my fault!”

Just as she took in his bedridden form cloaked with an unbecoming hospital gown, her big brown eyes descended to the cast of shame. The brazen baby blue ice pack atop it was another insult. He tried to suppress a wince as she herself paused mid-sentence.

“I thought-” she had just begun before her eyes settled. Her face contorted into heavy confusion. “What happened?” She asked, more sternly than before.

“Yeah,” he stammered, unable to form words. He had yet to master a reply despite having all morning to formulate something. He swallowed but it sounded by a grunt. “Um,” he prolonged, “here’s the thing… Um, this is embarrassing…”

The words were evading him and looking up at her inquisitive expression did little to help. God, how was it she looked this good, this cute, and also simultaneously this gorgeous all at once after jogging in summer heat?

He tried to talk with his hands, palm out but even then, his message fell flat. She was not impressed and hiked a brow.  His lips were reluctantly to take over.

“I broke my penis.”

Really, the placement of the cast should have implied as much.

Honestly, the woman was designed to torture him. Both physical and mentally. First, she broke it, and now she was making him voice it aloud. He felt humiliated. And also, oddly beguiled. It should be a badge of honor for someone to ride a dick so hard for it to break.

And she hadn’t even been there to witness the aftermath.

He thought it was a mere cramp. They took a break. She didn’t press the matter further. They slept it off. She left the bed early for her ritual morning jog – how the woman had energy left was beyond his comprehension. The moment he rose, as did his dick, he felt the agony that came – no pun intended – and no sooner did it begin, he foolishly called Benedict to assist him to the nearest hospital since he didn’t want Kate to see him in such disarray.

“You… what…?”

Dear God, she was going to make him repeat it! As if neither believed it in the first place.

“I broke my penis,” he stated more clearly, agitated with the whole fiasco. Why was he placating her part in this? He wasn’t the one that purposely bent it at an unnatural angle!

“Things were just out of control last night,” he explained – even though she was there! Her memory was just as fresh as his! He shouldn’t be the one doing the talking!

“And there was like, this one moment, where it was just…” he rambled both in words and ambiguous hands signs, “I woke up this morning with blinding pain; another moment I was watching myself, remembering last night. I think I finally understand what the tree of life is about.”

She was huffing, looking up and around, just as finished with the situation as he was. That was the Kate he knew – the sarcastic, expressive, and glowing woman he knew and loved. It was an art she could still look so radiant under just unflattering light and miffed with frustration.

“I can’t be certain of this but I’m almost positive your vagina contains a right angle,” he dared to speak into existence, looking at her dead in the eyes.

Anthony was not above Vagina-Blaming.

“I’m leaving,” she declared with a glare. Her arms crossed – damn her – unintentionally lifting the national treasures he considered her breasts. “I can’t believe I came-”

He was speaking over her in protest.

She was leaving. Her back was to him.

“How are you upset right now?”

God – he knew he was in for it given the velocity of her ponytail when it swung back to the other shoulder. Her eyes bore into his, lips curled into a scowl.

“Kate, you did this! What do you want from me?

“I didn’t think this would happen! I don’t want this to be a thing…” she waved between them. He nearly lurched forward; brow raised in disbelief as a swell of reactionary rage began to bubble.

Only, he realized, while Kate’s eyes were on him, she kept gesturing to his castor-padded shaft. She deflated and her voice softened uncharacteristically. “Because” she exhaled, “I like you. A lot. ”

Her head shook, distracted by the tacky tile pattern underneath them. She was comprehending her own words. A betraying smile fixed itself onto her lovely features, however brief it may have been. He saw it – it was there – even if she masked it with a stern line no sooner did it appear. “I can’t just always say what I feel…. It’s just, whatever, Anthony.”

She hid her expressive eyes by looking sideways, purposely  avoiding the connection between them. Her words were weak and her posture anxious, shifting from one foot to the another. Always moving, he thought fondly. His Kate was never one to stay still.

“You like me,” he repeated with an unapologetic grin. She loved him. Her loved her. They both knew it. Yet, neither were willing to speak it first. Fortunately, both were happy to set such a slight aside, knowing the truth between them, no matter if silent.

Was it he who made the first move? Likely. Or Kate – she was spontaneous like that.

Either way, he wasn’t complaining when their lips met and skipped passed the gentle delicacies that usually came after a quarrel. Mouth open and tongues in happy collusion, Anthony was quite pleased to revisit where they had last left.

Her hair was just as perfect and silky as he remembered when it wrapped it around his hand and pulled her deeper into their . Her hand on his chest for purchase, striking an electric sensation within him.

A crack disrupted the ambience of the lover’s reunion. A loud, unsettling stiff crack and then the jolting, sharp pain that followed within seconds. Blinding, burning, terrible pain!

He hadn’t even registered how hard her pushed her away but he registered the volume of their combined shouts as he jolted upwards, rigid as humanly possible. His eyes squeezed shut, still processing the intense discomfort that was as sharp as the first.

The pained whine that escaped his throat was too embarrassing for him to admit. Thank the Heaven’s she was the only one to bear witness to such an emasculate scene. She was nearly as rigid as he, coiled defensively in surprise when she took him in.

His voice cracked in between the segment of uncharacteristically high-pitched agony, verifying his worst reality.

His hand slapped the uncomfortable hospital bed in protest simultaneously as she apprehensively poached the question “what happened?”

It was his turn to look away, averting his face to the uninhabited side of the room, and his eyes remained squeezed shut for dear life. His knees were arched and his hands curled into the plastic sheets beneath him.

“Oh my God, why?” he protested, regaining some edge in his voice.

Her hands were up in the air as if surrendering. Her eyes scanned over his form, unsure of what to do next.

“Oh!” he fumbled. His hand jetted out and then returned to his hair, combing his back while his body arched instinctively. The pain reverberated and all he could muster was wide, panicked eyes and mouth agape, hoping no more unsettling sounds flushed out.

“Uh…” she chewed over, “what…?”

Her hands crossed and then one rose to her lips for her to anxiously bite at an immaculately polished nail. Then another until both hands concealed her mouth but her eyes were vivid with shock and worry.

“Oh my God, my penis is having a heart attack,” he grumbled back. His hand propelled outwards, halting her from coming closer. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! You got to get out of here!”

“Alright,” she fluttered about, slow to turn back around.  Both of her hands reciprocated the gesture, as if to hold herself at bay until her feet could shuffle the other direction. Purse – where’s her purse? Big, black purse – can’t miss it– ah! There!

He wasn’t sure what words he was trying to verbalize. It was all a stuttered mess until she began to bend down to grab her oversized bag near the door.

Then his reaction was visceral.

“Don’t bend over!”

She nearly jumped out of her skin and looked at him, aghast.

“For crying out loud,” he lamented, averting his eyes to the ceiling. “Are you nuts?” He tried his best to blink the image away. Her pert little ass – not really, not little – ugh, forget it! But he couldn’t!

Thankfully, her hefty purse consumed the upper half of her body, concealing her blessed breasts.

“I’m sorry,” he cracked apologetically. His eyes were pleading. “It’s the yoga pants!”

She was awkwardly shifting from the room to the hallway, weaving in and out as she scrambled to retreat.

“I’m sorry for this,” she rushed out the words until her entire body was outside his room. Still, her head poked through, and then pass by the glass where her words were still quite clear. “I like you!” she tried to end on a good note, offering a smile through the pane.

“I like you, too, so much,” he assured, however gravel and pain he sounded. She was still peeking through the glass, optimistic and glowing and loving…

“Call a nurse!” he pleaded aloud, leaning outwards to project his voice. “A male nurse! Probably a heavy-set male nurse would be nice!”

She was contorting her body awkwardly to muster a wave, not quite ready to depart.  The bag was still in her arms, obstructing her chest. God Bless her. He never thought he’d say such a thing regarding her heavenly bosom but now was not the time.

“Bye,” her muffled voice sang sweetly from afar.

He was lurching more outwardly now, to the point of yelling.

“Describe it to them as like uh… as uh…battered highway cone!”  He pushed out hurriedly once she was out of frame.

He leaned back, eyes squeezed and body tight. He winced multiple times in a row. He uttered another unbecoming groan, flinching as he verbalized just sounds of peak discomfort.

[vcsecretgifts]

Snap shot in time

From: @auburnandamberangel

Merry Christmas @plopofcolour Qotd era Khayman and Armand interaction on the Night Island. Hope you like ^u^

~~~

Armand watched Khayman looking at his upper terrace garden, the plants benefiting not only from the sunshine but also the seaspray. The cacti, the large Saguaros with their armed tall appearance especially had captured the ancients fascination. The silhouettes classic to many a western. They weren’t indigenous to Egypt, effectively a new world plant, and certainly capturing this until recently slumbering vampire. Perhaps as they too were long lived, slow in maturing. He had his cameras slung over his neck and shoulder wanting to capture the bloom on one of them, a first. He recorded all of them on this island. Mementos.

Khayman was a very good guest, polite, and surprisingly unaloof compared to other vampires of a similar age. ‘Mr manners leaves their bodies after the first few thousand years!’ Daniel had observed dryly not to long ago as they say in said same garden, watching the waves. Sitting on the stone steps, snuggly between Daniels stretched out legs. Barely dead himself, so manys ways appeared rude by his modern standards. “Not all are…impolite.” Daniel had nodded, smiling almost as if he’d read his mind and knew he was thinking of the Egyptian. Which was impossible, he just people watched very well. And surely he was an expert in Armand observations by now.

“Ahh but Khayman was nice as a human, not many airs on him plus he’s sweet on you. So you’re the last person he’d be short with.” Interestingly not too much jealousy in that statement. A small possessive kiss to the top of his head, caressing of his arms about his waist. Their guests came and went, things were more peaceful minus some of their vampire brethren. Peaceful between them even. Born in a time of crisis, his home even invaded it wasn’t ideal for them even with a notorious nosey parker like his fledgling. He’d borne so much strain at his hands before being turned, it worried Armand. Sometimes they fought as he instinctually pulled back.

“The fact he’s easy on the eye doesn’t hurt much either does it.” Daniel added laughter in his voice. Teasing. Armand smiled despite himself turning his head. “But I’m famous for a penchant for blondes darling aren’t I.”

“Except Louis.” His beloved kissing his dimples. And others he’d best not mention. Not eager to quote that book at him right now.

“Hmmmm. Nice to not always be predictable then.” Kissing Daniels matching smile. It had ended up being a very good evening that night. Allowing himself to bask in the glow of the memory of it.

Khayman found the sea soothing, the air fresh and the garden a magical oasis. A small movement betrayed his hosts presence, rare to not have an exuberant Daniel or hesitant brooding Marius in orbiting attendance around Armand. Moths to this ’cherubs’ - seraphin now surely more apts flame- A ethereal beauty no matter the flowery language. In his time one destined to be blessed by the gods. A soul just as full of substance as his appearance. To think without her, the mother waking he’d probably not have crossed paths with this one. So artful at cloaking his presence. Deep in thought he was looking at him, but not really seeing him. Caught in a recollection. Unguarded he looked so young, in the eyes the depth and knowledge in them gave his age away. This was the way with their kind. Trapped in their making, the soul grew seen through the orbs alone. Somehow still warmth there, if the mood was right. A miracle considering the heartache had been through in so far centuries. He would do much to make sure he didn’t make those eyes cold. Watching this former coven master navigate so many vampires in his sanctuary, first love mingling with last. Struck by the poise. The former parents guardian, the Roman made said face light up and close down in equal measure. Not his place to intervene ofcourse, though tempting. Best to announce his presence, so Armand didn’t feel too exposed.

“Armand, good evening. Was there something I can aid you with?” Smooth heavily accented voice totally interrupting his reverie. “Did you want private time in your garden?” Previously observed vampire catching him unawares, hoping he hadn’t left himself open to scrutiny thoughts wise. His mind usually locked up tight, some of the first brood lacked finesse with the mind gift, it coming to them later. But what they lacked in finesse, could be made up by brute force alone. Being Marius’ blood line vicariously provided some civility that otherwise may not exist, for a not even five hundred year old former cult coven leader. Ageism was alive and well in their surviving group from Akashas cull. As if age always came with wisdom… Khayman had been gentle and respectful in his manner towards him. Armand appreciated this from his most recent friend. He saw him as he was, no judgement.

“No not at all. I take pleasure in seeing enjoyment from my garden. The cacti have you in their thrall I see.” Genuine smile to the ancient. Moving closer. The garden lit by coloured uplights here and there to make it appealing.

“They are exotic to my old eyes, yes. Beautiful yet dangerous. So like us I feel.” Small smile back. “Your a gracious host, I know it’s not in most of your nature’s to live on mass for long. You’ve been patient where you could have been firm. Silent when you could have spoken.” Khaymans turn to watch and enjoy the view that had nothing to do with the garden, but more it’s creator.

“Ah well, tact or diplomacy is something I’ve always had to have. Never to speak unless it improves the silence or my position in it.” Being quite open now in this admission. Unusually candid for himself truly. He didn’t think he’d regret it in this situation.

“The lone jackel is a hard role to break, though it’s served you well.” The ancient replied. Looking back at the cacti. “How old is this one then?”

“This one is around seventy years. It’s the first year it’s flowered, you’re lucky to have witnessed it.” Itching to take a picture of the flower, and perhaps Khayman too if he was truthful with himself. Just incase his stay was brief and centuries passed until another meeting of minds. “But they can live to around one hundred and seventy five perhaps even two hundred years. Not bad for a desert dweller.”

Khayman eyed the camera, that was the term wasn’t it. One of the magical picture capturers. “You’ll record it with this?” He hadn’t tried anything new in a while. Armand was patient, the best person to ask to try. “How?” He uttered before he had time to edit.

Inquisitive and open to instruction, not your average elder. Refreshing like the sea breeze. “I need a tripod, unless you can hold it steady as a rock. I’ll do both.” Zipping inside and then back out to get it. “I’ll need a long exposure to make the most of the moon light, and a flash for my close ups. The window inside opens for the picked time, the light hits the film and makes an imprint like an eye I suppose but in reverse, or inverse a negative. We can use the darkroom next.” Twinkle in his eye as he saw the ancients eyes widen. “The Polaroid develops as you shake it.” It must sound odd to the others ears.

“Witchcraft then. I’m an apprentice to a modern sorcerer.” Pleased by the laugh this comment brought from Armand.

“Usually I’m called bewitching. But I’ve been accused of worse.” Daniels words echoing in his head, pleased he didn’t blush as easily as said youngblood.

Gingerly taking the camera and going still, statue like as he could. A trick you learnt which came easily with age. Though it usually unnerved younger immortals. *Direct me as if I’m a tripod.* He said is the mind voice. Armands softer hands aiming the slr camera for a closeup. Physical contact was a luxury being a nomad rarely afforded.

Hearing the snap of the inner workings, turning of the spool. With each shot, the flash singing. Armand liked this process, methodical, practised yet still room for error and surprise. *Move back a little so I can get a portrait of it. Perhaps one of and for you to take with you?* Because people leave - eventually. This was always a possibility. Sentiment came with a cost, this he always knew.

A photo to keep. An anchor would be good for times Khayman felt unsteady. Stronger by the year, but wispy in his soul sometimes. A welcome light in the Night Island Villa, to concentrate on. *Yes. A portrait of plant, myself and it’s guardian even better.*

Warm glance, nodding his answer. “This also has a cable to take a photograph at a distance. A bellow balloon, a tube and a metal press.” Screwing it into the button. Then retrieving it from the taller elder. Fixing this on the tripod via it’s own foot. Let’s set ourselves up. Standing and leaning into the framing arms of the cactus, as if the plant was behind them, reaching to hold them close.

Khayman followed the younger ones lead. Moving in closer and realising he could smell Armands hair. Wondering if this was his shampoo or just his natural scent. Vampires sometimes exuded a odour that was unique to them, a spice in the blood perhaps. Marius had made him, imbued with donations by Akasha during his guardianship. Perhaps he had smelt like this in Venice as a mortal. Not something he could easily ask the child of two millennia. Nor share a want to share his blood to strengthen those below a thousand in their coven, truthfully only this one piqued his interest.

Armand had the cord behind his back to depress at just the right moment. Khaymans strong heartrate was hard to ignore so close. “Ready. One two three.” Not using cheese, referring to a dairy product as slang for smiling usually put older vampires in a spin. So a countdown better. Not flinching at the flash or the next long exposure. “Always take more than one for practicality.” Moving to replace the lens cap and concentrate on the Polaroid camera in front of him now. “Arguably this one is like magic.” He stated with a smile. “As Daniel can attest I took so many in our early years here.” Boxes and boxes of them, indulgent expression on his face. He was rich, but some things were priceless that had little monetary value in his collection. “Strike your next pose. Make yourself comfortable.”

Khayman liked Daniel. He was full of life, and hoped that energy didn’t turn downwards into madness. Knowing Armand was concerned with this too, any elder making a first fledgling would be - especially one as fond of forward planning as his host. Smiling nervous about doing something wrong. Hoping irrationally it wasn’t magic, as magic never bode well. Flash and snap. Painless. Wondering what the twins back in Sonomo thought of this new family, Mekare learning after her travelling the wilderness. Focus on Jesse, their link to Miriam.

Armand handed the Polaroid by its framed white bottom edge to the elder. “Now shake it, and you’ll slowly appear.” Charmed by Khaymans expression, bouyed one so old could still feel the wonder of the new. Despite intermittent sleeps. Hope for all of them surely. Watching Khayman watching the photograph as it developed. “What do you think?”

Bit by bit the image appeared - the dark background shading in firstly, the bright green cacti appearing next with its vibrant blooms. Then the paled by time figure, a smile all for the taker. Now one such photo of Armand with or without himself would be wondrous. “A fine picture.” So excited he placed kisses on Armands cheeks stopping before he daren’t put any on those rosy lips. Moving faster than he usually did, enveloping the younger vampire in a hug would perhaps be too much of a liberty. They had time. “One of us next, yes?”

Armand didn’t have time to start at the sudden movement of the ancient. Stealing himself to be squeezed, fortunate it didn’t come to pass. Khayman smelt inviting though, heady blood from their fount. Marius would be jealous no doubt. But he wasn’t here was he. Attending to Pandora, a promise of a return soon. As ever time would tell. Trying not to stare at Khaymans lips. “Yes. An instant portrait next.” Glad of someone who gave as much as he took.

[tempesttragedya]

Revanelan & Her Companions

romance

Revanelan did not canonically romance anyone; although I am open to shipping her, there will be no ‘canon’ romance upon which I will fall back.

BLACKWALL When Leliana informed Revan of a Grey Warden residing in the Hinterlands, she found herself unable to resist her own curiosity as to what had led so many others out of contact. She assisted him in the defense of his ‘conscripts’, then introduced herself as a member of the Inquisition, searching for the Grey Wardens or any clues as to where they had went. Blackwall’s offer to join up was a relief, and Revan quickly accepted. As time passed, she found herself enjoying Blackwall’s companionship and his strongly held beliefs in redemption, right and wrong, and the use of power for the greater good.

When the truth of Thom Rainer’s past emerged, however, she felt betrayed. Not only was the man she had looked upon as a good person, as a friend, in fact, a fraud, her feelings of companionship were suppressed, replaced with righteous fury along with hurt and confusion. When Cullen offered solutions that might put the false Grey Warden back in Inquisition hands, she bitterly agreed and, rather than using lies or manipulation to gain control of the man’s fate, requested that Josephine go through the right channels, utilizing the favor of the Orlesian Empire to have Thom Rainer released to their judgement.

When it came to judgement, Revan informed Thom that that, once Corypheus was defeated, he would be handed over to the Wardens to fulfill the fate the true Blackwall had wished for him.

CASSANDRA Revan admires Cassandra quite a bit- as both a fellow warrior and a woman of conviction, she believes that Cassandra is a prime example of what the Chantry should be, even if she does not believe as they do.

When Cassandra made it clear that she intended to look into the disappearances of the Seekers, Revanelan showed no hesitation before agreeing to help. After confronting Lord Seeker Lucius and uncovering the damage he had done, Revan encouraged Cassandra to do what she believed was right, trusting whatever choice she made would be the one to create a better future.

COLE When the man appeared unexpectedly at Haven’s doors, Revan was unsure what to think- his timing seemed such a coincidence, a possible trap… And yet they let him in, let him help as best he could. What was there to lose, with everything already on the line?

Cole remained a curiosity- something about him seemed so familiar, not because of who he was, but HOW. She allowed him to remain with the Inquisition, interested to see what she might learn from and about him. His desire to help people, albeit through more direct routes than her own, was something she could easily understand, and the fact that he seemed to do so simply only served to confuse her further.

Although it was clear he was some kind of spirit taken physical form, Revan was surprised to learn more and more of his history- the people he had met, the people he had killed- yet she could not bring herself to judge him harshly. When he expressed fear of being bound, Revan worked quickly to find the amulet Solas believed would help provide a sense of security. When it was acquired and failed to function, she was at a loss- he wasn’t spirit, wasn’t human; instead, he was somewhere in between, and still potentially vulnerable.

When they located the cause of Cole’s doubt, Revan was quick to stop him from doing anything rash- uncertain of what Cole needed to move forward, the only thing she could do was urge him to forgive as best he could… To recognize the struggle within the man, the truth of his being, and hope it was enough.

DORIAN Revan’s first impression of Dorian was one of amusement, much like Varric, even as they fought against demons that emerged from a rift. If it hadn’t been for the pain afflicting her, she might have made more effort to speak with him amidst the battle; tried to learn just what the HELL was going on- but nevertheless, she closed the rift and learned what she could. As they traveled together, she found him to be an interesting companion, and one she hoped truly did encompass the possibilities of Tevinter beyond their flaws.  

When Mother Giselle asked Revanelan to lie to Dorian, she refused- manipulating those she genuinely grew close to was not a habit she intended to develop. Instead, she informed Dorian of the request to meet and went with him, only to find his father present rather than the expected retainer.

Upon hearing the two argue, division clear between them, she could only restrain herself from speaking her mind and responding to what she heard. When Dorian wished to leave, she was more than willing, and the two departed without another word.

IRON BULL When Cremisius arrived at Haven offering the support of a band of mercenaries, Revan was hesitant- although she was happy to utilize what assets she could, trust was a matter she took issue with. After traveling to the Storm Coast and meeting the Chargers, she agreed to hire them on, albeit with some reservations.

As time passed, Revanelan allowed some of her own barriers to fall, becoming familiar with the team and enjoying The Iron Bull’s company on a variety of tasks. When he requested her help on behalf of the Qun, she obliged, hoping to find an easy alliance… Instead, she found herself torn between the alliance or letting those she’d come to know die.

The decision of which to encourage was easy- and when they met up at the nearest camp, the Chargers’ drinks were paid for by Revan’s coin.

SERA Meeting the odd elf woman was an experience she had not expected; the same remained true throughout her travels with Sera, consistently surprised by her companion’s audacious behavior and mischievous nature.Although she’s not sure what to make of Sera, Revan finds her incredibly amusing and a trustworthy friend- so long as she remains on the rogue’s good side. She doubts that will be difficult, however, given their similar goals in working towards making life easier for those treated as lesser.

Revan saw no problem in making a display of strength in Verchiel, a minor thing for the greater good- the possibility of whatever the Jennys might find was only a pleasant side benefit. When they encountered the mercenaries in Crestwood, Revan was surprised but took no issue in fighting back- until it was made clear that the Noble behind the attack was present, and far too prideful to admit to any wrongdoing.

Although the thought of using him entered her mind, her knowledge of nobility and blackmail more than capable of leashing the man, ultimately, she cared little for his life and allowed Sera to take revenge for the suffering he had caused.

SOLAS The elven apostate was the most intriguing of Revan’s companions, oddly familiar in a way she simply could not place. Although she feared the Fade and the pain it caused her, she was interested in learning all she could from the man who seemed to know it all. Their belief in spirits was closely aligned, their ability to develop and grow beyond mere reflections a well-discussed topic between the two. When Solas requested help in freeing Wisdom, Revanelan’s agreement held no hesitation.

Well practiced and learned in the magic of bindings, Revan easily broke the hold the Kirkwall mages had, allowing Solas a brief moment to speak with the spirit before it dissipated into nothingness in the Fade once more… Well acquainted with the urge to exact revenge, Revan suppressed her own anger at what she judged as misuse of magic and stood idly by as Solas returned the favor gifted to Wisdom.

VARRIC When they first met, Revanelan found herself amused by Varric’s sense of humor and ability to remain calm in such dire situations. Although she tried to hide the majority of her own problems, she couldn’t help warming up to the dwarf, even going so far as to defend him from Cassandra’s wrath in Skyhold- although she was still cautious about where his loyalties might lie should Hawke become a problem, she trusted that he had only the best of intentions.

When Bianca showed up with information on where Corypheus had been getting his Red Lyrium, Revan followed the trail with them, sealing access to the Thaig and learning that it was Bianca who had caused the leak…

Revan found herself incredibly angry at Bianca for her role in the red lyrium’s exposure, and while she was content to assure Varric that he held no responsibility, she does not consider the same of Bianca.

VIVIENNE Well acquainted with the game of Orlais, Revan does not trust Vivienne, although she certainly finds her amiable company. Over time, she warms to the woman, although she continues to disagree with her views when they come up in discussion.

Even as she considers her a friend, Revan does not wholly open herself to Vivienne, retaining what secrets she can as their tenuous friendship goes on. When asked to retrieve a specific wyvern’s heart, she obliges, finding the Snowy Wyvern and slaying it in an attempt to assist.

[butsomeofusarelookingatthestars]

Hey would you do something were someone in the readers family has a criminal history, and she also works for the fbi (kind of like seaver, though doesn’t necessary have to be a serial killer) and she's been keeping it a secret from Luke cause she is afraid he'll break up with her, but then he finds out because of a case or something? I really love your blog btw 😘

Because of You

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Luke Alvez x Reader

Prompt: Request

A/N: I really wanted to go the angsty route, but I know weall need a little bit of fluff during times like this! I’ll consider it apublic duty. I hope you are all keeping safe and well. Enjoy and take care ofyourselves! xx

“Y/N, you and Luketalk to the family. They’re the only ones who can help us.”

You sighed heavily as you slammed the car door shut, yourfeet dragging as you reluctantly made your way towards the house. The area was ratherquaint, neighbours happily conversing across the street and white picket fencesenclosing their impressively neat gardens. No one would ever have suspectedthat it hid such darkness.

But you knew better than to be deceived by appearances.

“Are you okay? You’ve been quiet all day.”

You were startled by the light grip on your wrist, jumpingin surprise as your eyes landed on Luke. During the car journey, you’d almostforgotten his presence. The concern in his dark brown eyes made your heart achewith guilt. He couldn’t find out. He’dnever be able to look at you the same. 

“I’m fine.” You replied quietly, pulling away from his graspas you focused your attention on the front door, knocking gently as youdesperately tried to ignore his inquisitive gaze. It opened slowly to reveal awoman on the other side.

“Miss Daniels?”

The woman flinched, her eyes narrowing as they landed uponyour and Luke’s badges. Clearly, FBI agents wouldn’t be welcome in her home. “I’vetold you people before, I don’t know anything! Why won’t you listen to me?” Shecried in exasperation.

“Miss Daniels. If you don’t help us-” Luke began, his voiceremaining calm and authoritative despite the circumstances. “More people couldget hurt.” He warned.  

But she only shook her head, retaining her defiant silence. “I’vetold you agent, I don’t know where my brother is.” She whispered, pressing herlips together firmly, but she couldn’t hide the fear in her eyes. Fear you knewall too well.

You froze for a moment, hesitating to betray your ownemotions. But times were desperate and you knew you were running out of timefor the latest victim. You had to forget that Luke was stood beside you as youplaced a gentle hand on the door to prevent it from being closed.

“It’s not easy…” You murmured softly, your eyes searchinghers as she gazed at you in shock. “He’s your family. He’s your brother. It’s only natural to feel asense of-” You paused for a moment, biting your lip as you searched for theright word. “-loyalty.”

The word tasted bitter on your lips. You knew what it feltlike to feel so ashamed, yet still want to defend a loved one. Even when itdidn’t make sense.

“You want to protecthim?” You asked softly. She nodded, remaining silent as a tear dripped slowlydown her cheek. “Then, the best way to do that is by helping us.” You told her,your voice surprisingly calm and reassuring as you reached forward to gentlytouch her hand. “Help us stop him before he hurts someone else.”

                                                                                                                                A quiet groan escaped your lips as you stretched out, attemptingto rid yourself of the aches and pains that accompanied a seven-hour flighthome. It hadn’t been comfortable, curling up on the individual seat positionedaway from the others, but it had been necessary.

You simply didn’t want to participate in their post-casecelebratory drinks, engage in friendly conversation…or face Luke’s concernedgaze. You knew he suspected something was wrong and the worry etched on hisface only made the guilt worse. It terrified you to think he could discover thereal reason why you hadn’t been yourself today.

For the past two years, he had only seen you as hisco-worker and friend. For only the past few months, he had been getting to knowyou as his girlfriend. And, you weren’t willing to risk your relationship orthe man you cared about…not for anything.

“The others are heading off to O’Keefe’s if you’re up forit?”

You held back a sigh at the sound of his voice, desperatelytrying to hide your dismay. Your plan had been to escape early and slip past whilstthe others debriefed in the meeting room. But, it seemed like you’d have nosuch luck when it came to avoiding Luke.

“I think I’m just going to head home.” You told him,ignoring his inquisitive gaze as you focused on packing your bag. “I think theflight back has wiped me out.” You lied, your voice faltering slightly as your handbegan to shake. You could only hope he believed it was a sigh of exhaustionrather than fear.

“Oh!” Luke murmured, clearly disappointed with your decisionas he nodded carefully. “I’ll drive you home then. We can stay at mine tonightif you want to?”

Your heart raced. Of course, he wanted to look after you. IfLuke knew something was wrong, his protective nature wouldn’t allow you to walkout of here alone. You knew you had to lie.

“It’s fine.” You told him, forcing a smile onto your face asyou grabbed your bag. “I’m tired and I think I just need some time by myself. I’llfeel better tomorrow.”

But before you could make your escape, his fingers gentlyenclosed around your wrist. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as his eyes rakedover your face in concern.

“Whatever it is you can tell me Y/N.” He murmured softly. “Pleasedon’t keep avoiding me. If I’ve done something wrong, I want to put it right.”

The heartfelt plea made your heart sink. You couldn’t let himthink he was the problem.

“I know how she felt…the unsub’s sister.” You told himquietly, closing your eyes as you ran a hand through your hair in frustration.You couldn’t bear to look at him, knowing he’d be carefully following yourevery word and trying to figure out the reason behind your distress.

“My brother used to be like that - unpredictable, explosivetemper…even cruel at times.” You croaked, the emotions threatening to overspillas you opened your eyes to meet Luke’s worried gaze. “Afterwards he’d alwaysapologise though. He was so charming and…you could almost believe he was sorry.”

You paused, struggling to get out your next sentence. Lukeremained silent, watching you carefully as you lowered your head. He was such agood listener, refusing to interrupt even if you knew he must have a dozenquestions.  

He deserved to knowthe truth.

“He was arrested five years ago. After he brutally attackeda woman.” Tears stung your eyes as you felt them begin to fall down yourcheeks. “She was in hospital for weeks. The doctors thought it could havecaused permanent damage.”

Luke reached out a hand in an effort to comfort you, but youevaded his grasp. You didn’t deserve tobe comforted.

“I knew. I knew what he was.” You rasped, your heartthundering as your breathing became increasingly laboured.

“You knew?” Luke asked quietly, his tone difficult to readas he glanced down at the floor. You felt your heart sink. He must be disappointed.

A sob escaped your throat. “I knew something wasn’t rightwith him. But he was my brother. I didn’t think-” Your voice faulted as tearsstreamed down your face, blurring your vision. “I should have said something. IfI would have maybe-”

You could still see her bruised face, the pain in her eyesas he smirked smugly in court. It had been little consolation that he hadreceived a harsh sentence. Her life wouldn’t never be the same again. Yet, evenmonths later as he sent you a letter begging you to visit, a part of you stillwanted to be there for him. Protect him.

“It’s like no matter what I do now. I’ll never be able tomake up for it.” You whispered, your cheeks stained with tears as you buriedyour face in your hands. “It doesn’t matter how many people we help, I still…”

Perhaps it was the reason you were so committed to your job,the reason why you went above and beyond for victims and their families and thereason why you stayed late so many nights at the BAU. But it was also thereason why you still felt compassion for unsubs’ relatives who pleaded with youto understand…

You felt ashamed forit.

A pained silence fell across the room as you buried yourface deeper into your hands, unwilling to witness the disappointment in Luke’sbrown eyes. It felt like an eternity had passed before he finally spoke.

“You don’t realise do you?”

You hesitated, his soft voice still calm and reassuring asyou glanced up at him in confusion. “What?”

He gave you a small smile as he reached forward to gentlytake your hand. Your heart fluttered as he tenderly stroked your wrist, themotion instantly soothing. “How amazing you are?”

His words caught you completely off guard.

“It’s because of you that we saved that girl today. It’sbecause of you that his sister decided to help us.” He told you firmly, liftinghis thumb to gently sweep away the tears that still lingered on your face. “You’renot him. His actions don’t say anything about you.”

“But I- I-” You stuttered, trying to find the words to explain,but Luke’s kindness and rendered you speechless. He smiled softly as his armswrapped around your waist and he pulled you close. You could feel thereassuring beat of his heart beneath your fingers as you rested against thewarmth of his chest.

“You are the most compassionate, loving and caring person Iknow.” He whispered into your hair, pressing a tender kiss on the top of yourhead. “That’s not something to be ashamed of.”

You could only lean into his touch, one of your handsentwining in his short hair as you pressed a light kiss against his lips,trying to express just how grateful you were for his reassurance.

“You’re you. And, I love you for that.” 

[maleficarfic]

Pas de Deux

Pairing: Female Trevelyan/Solas

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition

Rating: Explicit

Additional Tags: Exhibitionism, Teasing

Summary: Solas seduces the Inquisitor at Halamshiral, whispering her praises like a priest at worship.

On AO3: Link

Solas saw her when she entered the ballroom. He’d been there for some time, slipping through the crowds almost invisibly. And then she’d appeared in the entry, and he truly was invisible. There was no seeing anything or anyone except her.

The Inquisitor was radiant. Vivienne and Dorian had gone to war with her advisors, insisting there was no world in which her wearing a military uniform to an Orlesian ball would be acceptable. The advisors, Josephine included, had fought back, saying it was inappropriate for her to wear anything else. But the result of their compromise? It stole his breath. The sight of her had him hard and throbbing with unrealized lust in seconds. He burned as brightly as she, desperately craving his own destruction.

Her hair had been left loose, a shimmering veil of mahogany that fell to the small of her back. Rubies in gold settings, pinned in the locks of her hair, caught the candlelight like glittering flames. Instead of the short military jacket he and the others wore, she was dressed in a red tunic that fell to her thighs. It split to accommodate her full skirts, and where it split, pearlescent red and gold fabric fluttered. She still wore the sash, but beneath it her tunic was unbuttoned, revealing the swells of her breasts, and she wore rubies like fire around her neck. Epaulets to denote her rank capped her shoulders, studded with little chips of ruby.

And her mask.

Her mask was unlike anything he’d seen so far this evening. It reminded him of something out of a fantasy, something that might have come from Arlathan once oh so very long ago. It was a stylized combination of both phoenix and dragon, resplendent with red and gold feathers and scaled with more chips of rubies. Fangs of white opal dripped from the bottom of the mask, making what might have first appeared delicate and simply pretty into something vicious. Dangerous. A mask worthy of the leader of the Inquisition.

He moved carefully through the crowds of awed onlookers, approaching her from the side, wondering what she would do if he yanked her into the shadows and kissed her. Ah, but a kiss wouldn’t be enough. Not for him, and never for her. Inquisitor Trevelyan would never be satisfied with a kiss.

Smothering a groan, he fell into place at her side, giving her an elegant, elaborate bow. Too elaborate, he realized belatedly, for an elven apostate who knew nothing of court and grace.

“Solas,” she murmured in that warm, throaty tone he’d never heard her use for anyone else. Sometimes, he wondered if it was an invitation. Tonight, no matter what she meant by it, he’d take it that way. He could do nothing less.

She sucked all the air out of the room just by being in it. He wanted to suck all the air out of her lungs with his kisses, leave red welts all along her skin from his fingers and teeth, and then scour her insides with a fiery passion that left her weak. Limp. Dazed. But her eyes. Her eyes would make his sin worth it, for her eyes would be glazed with adoration that bordered on worship. She would be his creature as surely as he was hers.

“Inquisitor,” he said without betraying a hint of what dark desire roiled beneath his skin. “You are a vision.”

A wicked smile spread across her lips, one that was at once playful and self-assured, and he wondered if she would wear that smile on her knees before him. Would she wear it when he wrapped his hands in the endless length of her hair and pressed his cock between her lips? Would she wear it when he let her ride him, her hips moving in slow, sinuous rolls against his?

He was rock hard for her, desperate for her, and he was already calculating precisely how much effort it would take to get into her skirts. He was out of practice, but for her… Oh, for her he would practice the darkest arts. If she came to him wanting blood magic done, he might consider it. For her, anything. For her, the world.

For her, his soul and the very essence of his being.

“It’s all Vivienne and Dorian. I can’t dress my way out of a burlap sack.”

You would still steal my breath in a burlap sack. He could imagine her wearing one, to his surprise. Less to his surprise, he could imagine peeling her out of it, sliding rough fabric against soft skin, revealing the supple lines of her body, and she would whimper and moan and beg him to go faster as she writhed beneath him. Or perhaps she would be caught between him and a wall.

There were plenty of walls in Halamshiral that he could press her against. More than enough shadowed alcoves where he could wring her dry of pleasure while the nobility guessed and wondered but never truly knew.

“But you must carry it,” he said. “And so you do. Remarkably well.”

The compliment took her off-guard. He could see it in her eyes – the momentary flash of surprise and a bit of confusion. Then she grinned that wicked grin once more. “You’re too kind.” The grin faded. “I wish you didn’t have to be my manservant.” She spat the word as she whispered the statement, and his expression turned neutral.

Shaking his head just the slightest bit, he said, “It is no concern. The court expects it, and as long as I meet their expectations—” Already, he didn’t, and they didn’t know what to make of him. “—I can go as I please unmolested.”

“Would that I could be you,” she sighed, lifting her hand. He caught her wrist before her fingers could thread through her hair, turning her hand palm up. She watched him with curious eyes as he bent over her hand, a smile curling her lips.

“Mind your hair, Inquisitor. It would be a tragedy to ruin something so lovely,” he said, his voice low, pitched only for her. And then he pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand, as he would have in Arlathan. His tongue flicked against her skin.

He felt the change in the air. Static crackled along his skin, and she was its source. Lighting flashed in her eyes, a smell like fresh rain rising around them. Beneath it all was her scent, warm and lush, so very human, and so very aroused.

Walk away, he told himself. But he couldn’t. It was impossible. He was trapped in the pull of her gravity. She was the sun to his earth, and he turned about her in inescapable revolutions.

Releasing her hand, he leaned toward her ear. Harsh breaths, heavy and hard, fell past her lips. Each pant lifted her breasts until they strained, full and ripe, against the neckline of her tunic. “After the introductions, find me, Inquisitor.”

“To what purpose?” she asked, her voice strained. Taut.

He hazarded a glance at her face. She was looking ahead, her expression mostly concealed by her mask. “Come to me, Inquisitor, and you’ll see.” His fingers brushed her waist as he slipped behind her.

Lust coursed through him, raw and wild, demanding an outlet. His cock, painfully hard, strained against the unfortunate confines of his trousers, but he didn’t give a damn who noticed. Like the wolf hunting, his attentions were fixed primarily on his prey. Oh, he noticed the nobles whispering, he saw their eyes sweep over him, paused, and then jump to his ears. Any predator had to be aware of his surroundings. But the bulk of his focus was on her, on the quick, clever rabbit that could, at any minute, bolt into a burrow and be lost to him forever.

He doubted she would bolt.

Indeed, after the tedious introductions – he hadn’t realized Cassandra’s name was so ridiculously long, nor Cullen’s titles so impressive – he settled himself in a corner and waited for her to come to him.

She did not disappoint.

“I’ve found you, but you didn’t make it hard,” she said, brushing her fingers along her cheeks, following the line of her mask.

“I was not meant to be hard to find.” Peeling himself away from the marble, he offered her a hand. “Come with me.”

She placed her hand in his, and whispers buzzed all around them as he led her down the vestibule, past the tittering nobles. So much time had passed and yet nothing had changed. They were the same as they always were, the gossips, the liars, the schemers, the lovers. Only the dressings were different, sumptuous Orlesian silks and velvets compared to the sheer linens of Arlathan.

He tortured himself by imagining her in the garments of his people, wrapped in red cloth that covered her but hid nothing. Every step would reveal the full curve of her hips, the rounded swell of her ass, the high peaks of her breasts. Her nipples would be visible beneath the translucent garments, tempting men into the deepest, basest sins.

They rounded a corner and he yanked her into his arms and into the shadows, pressing her against the wall. She gasped, her fingers flying to his chest to brace against him, but he was not deterred.

Kisses were things meant for lovers, which they certainly were not. Kisses were overtures of heat, of passion, of tenderness. Their mouths met and it was a claiming. A dominating. He took her mouth with his with unreserved lust, devouring her startled cry as he swept his tongue past her lips. She tasted of expensive wine and heat.

It didn’t surprise him when he thought he could get drunk off her. Off the heat of her, the sweetness of her.

She pulled away from him with a quiet gasp, and flames flickered along her fingertips, a poignant threat. “What,” she hissed, “do you think you’re doing?”

He considered his answer carefully. He could lie to her, spinning his words into pretty promises meant to seduce her and cloud her judgment. He could whisper obscene things to her and wrap her in a mist of need and want and unfulfilled lust. Or he could tell her the truth. “Fucking your mouth, Inquisitor,” he said, needing her title to remind him of who she was, of the distance and space between them.

Then he swept his thumb over her lips, just a touch too thin to be considered fashionable by Orlesian standards, and the distance and space evaporated. It didn’t matter to him that she was the human leader of a political movement that would shake the very foundations of the world and that he was one of the remnants of a race choking on its dying breaths. All that mattered was that she was a woman and he was a man and he wanted her.

Craved her.

Burned for her.

Sometimes, he thought he would die if he didn’t have her. And Orlais offered so many opportunities to have her.

“Would you prefer I not?”

It was her only chance at escape, and he saw the realization flicker in her eyes. He watched her carefully, reading every nuance. Her body accepted his offer before her mind; he felt her soften, her hips shifting against his so that her belly brushed the hard line of his cock. She gasped quietly, her eyes widening.

“Is my desire such a revelation to you?” he asked, pressing closer, caging her in the shadows as a pair of giggling noblewomen passed by them.

“You don’t…” She swallowed. “I didn’t think you cared for human women.”

He pressed closer to her, pushing into the fullness of her skirts so that she couldn’t mistake his desire. His lust. His secret shame. Canting his head to the side, he leaned over her – she wasn’t a tall woman – his lips hovering a breath away from hers. “I do not.”

Her eyes were just a bit glassy, just a touch confused, and more than a little filled with want. His hands fell on her hip and the small of her back, and she arched at the touch. She looked like an offering, as though she meant to present her body to him without words.

“But I desire you.” He whispered the words against her lips and then captured her mouth with his. Her hands pressed lightly against his chest and then curled around his shoulders, her fingers digging into the fabric of his uniform. She gave in, sinking against him, whimpering softly into his mouth as he licked and nibbled and sucked at her lips, as he fucked her mouth with his tongue and laid claim to her.

He backed her further into the corner, until there was so space between her and the wall. Until there was no space between her lithe body and his. Her skirts were too much in the way, and they barely had any time to accomplish anything; she would need to be about her business soon.

But he could madden her and leave her as aching and desperate as he. He wanted her arousal dripping down her thighs, wanted her legs slick with it. Every step she took would be a fiery reminder of lust unfulfilled as she searched for gossip and blackmail, as she played the Game Orlais so loved.

Fingers slid up her side, his knuckles brushing over the swell of one breast. She gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to adjust the way their mouths met, taking her deeper. Harder. His tongue tangled around hers, drawing hers into his mouth and then forcing it back as he traced one finger in smaller and smaller concentric circles around her nipple. She tensed against him, each stroke stringing her tighter. He felt the coiled tension of her body in the small of her back, in the way her lips stiffened slightly under his.

He dropped his fingers, swallowing her moan of upset.

When she tried to pull back, he chased her, caged her. He consumed her and laid claim to her, branding her body with the desire of his. Magic curled in the air around them, a subtle weaving that only the most talented would notice. Vivienne and Dorian, surely, and likely the Empress’s pet apostate. They would feel the lingering traces of the magic and know a mage had wanted to burn away their Inquisitor’s clothing.

They wouldn’t know that he wanted to fuck her senseless, that he’d have her in the middle of the ballroom floor if that was what it took. He’d done more debauched things in his long life than take a woman in broad view of everyone attending a party.

But he wouldn’t. Not her. Not this woman. He didn’t want to share her. She was his deepest, darkest secret. His lust for her was a private thing, keeping him up long into the night, forcing his hand to his cock. He’d come to fantasies of her more times than he could count, but none of them ever included sharing her. He wouldn’t. Not ever. She was his and his alone, and he would own every inch of her body and her soul.

She would give those things to him. Willingly. He would ensure it.

So he drew his magic tight about her, pressing it against her skin until she cried out softly. He swallowed the cry and forced another from her, his magic licking along her skin like gentle tongues of flame. She shuddered in his arms, her fingers curling around the back of his neck, holding him close, clinging to him.

Drawing back, he licked her lower lip, and his hand lifted, hovering over her breast. “I believe you have things to be about, Inquisitor.”

Panting, she stared at him. “I do,” she murmured.

He expected her to push against him, to force him away. Instead, she stunned him and knocked him off balance by stroking the length of his ear, lightning crackling along her fingertip. Heat speared him, made his cock twitch with need as pleasure sank like a fist into his lower back. He was, for a moment, overcome by the overwhelming need to yank her skirts around her hips, tear open his trousers, and thrust into her. To take her. To have her. To brand her body with his until she forgot herself and screamed her pleasure to the whole ball.

She had him against the wall a second later, her finger still stroking slowly, lazily, a steady back and forth. He felt that touch all over his body – across his lips, his chest, his cock. He groaned, unable to keep his eyes open. He wanted to sink into the pleasure of her touch, to cherish it while he could.

Half of him expected her to avoid him for the remainder of the evening.

“I’ll find you again later,” she said, and she drew away from him, leaving him trembling in the darkened corner.

He felt like a callow youth again, like a boy unsure of what to do with a woman. When, he wondered, had she turned from prey to predator?

He couldn’t help the feral grin that split his face. Didn’t try to hide it when he slipped from the shadows. A passing servant caught sight of him and nearly dropped her tray of hors d’oeuvres as she whispered a prayer to Mythal for protection.

Ignoring her, he returned to the place the Inquisitor had found him. It would be an interesting party after all. Two predators hunting each other always made for a much more engaging game.

And how she hunted.

He caught sight of Leliana at one point, looking awed by the way the Inquisitor handled them. “I need you to slip into the servant’s quarters,” she told him and Cassandra and Cole, “whilst I fend off a duc. I will join you.”

She fought in her gown, and she was resplendent, like the mages of old. Power whipped her hair through the air, lighting her face that her beauty became terrifying. Cole whispered softly of Solas’s thoughts – Eyes flashing, so much power, radiant, lambent, incandescent, she tastes of fire and storms and the Fade – and Solas did not care.

“Thank you,” she said softly to him as she fished an elven amulet from a drawer in a storeroom, “for freezing that last archer. It wouldn’t do for me to return to the ball with an arrow sticking out of my chest.”

He turned so that neither Cole nor Cassandra could see them and ran his finger along the neckline of her tunic, dipping the tip between her breasts. “Marring perfection is unacceptable.”

She bumped her hip against his, her skirt hiding her hand as she feathered her fingers over the hard line of his cock. “Wouldn’t Bull love to know you find this arousing.”

“You,” he murmured. “You, untouched in that dress, slaying your enemies like a goddess. That arouses me.”

She wasn’t wearing her mask, and so her face, painted gold and red with feral makeup, betrayed her emotions. Interest. Curiosity. Excitement. A touch of fear that flavored all the others. Sharpening them, he imagined.

Bending his head toward her, he touched the amulet in her hand. “This is elven,” he said, loud enough for the others to hear, so they wouldn’t wonder. Quieter, he asked, in Elvish, “Are you wet for me? Does your cunt burn and clench with your need?”

Her lips parted, her tongue darting out to wet them. “What did you say?”

He gave her a languid, sensual smile and turned away, letting her wonder. Letting the question fester. She hated unanswered questions, his Inquisitor, and leaving it that way would ensure she returned to him.

Briala almost ruined it by catching her with new questions. He watched, strained, thinking how easy it would be for the Inquisitor to dismiss him out of hand, to pretend like none of this had happened as Briala offered her new mysteries to unravel.

“Your elven manservant?” Briala asked with a wry arch of her brow just as the Inquisitor turned to go.

She canted her head to one side. “I beg your pardon.” It was a statement, not a question, a subtle threat that Briala would be wise to heed.

“The courtiers wonder who caught your eye. They saw you vanish into a shadowed corner, but they don’t know who with. I do.” Briala’s grin was almost manic, edged with the knowledge of their wickedness. “An elven apostate and one of the world’s most powerful women? Watch yourself, Inquisitor. That’s a dangerous combination.”

She returned to him anyway.

He took her into the gardens, into another dark and shadowed corner. “How quiet can you be?” he asked, his fingers fisting in her skirts.

“Solas,” she breathed, eyes wide. “Solas, you can’t.”

“There is little I—” He almost said there was little he couldn’t do, but realized that betrayed too much. “—wouldn’t do for you.” The pause was so slight he was sure it would go unnoticed, especially because she was a woman primed for sex. Her body begged for it in the way she turned toward him, leaned into him, sank against him.

“Not a word. Not a sound,” he said, and he pressed himself into the corner and pulled her against him, yanking her skirts up in the front so he could slip his hand between her legs.

Instead of simple linen smalls, he encountered silk. It slid under his fingers like water, soaked from her desire, and she bit her lip.

“Are they red?” he asked, dragging his hand up her thigh, curious to see if they were in the Orlesian fashion.

She shook her head. “Black.”

They were so very Orlesian it nearly destroyed him. A single thread arched over her hips. It met another and slipped between the full globes of her ass, leaving her skin bare. More than anything, he wanted to rip off her skirts, turn her around, and see the full glory of her body in such salacious under things. He’d take her with them on, the fabric pushed the side, her body pressed against a wall or bent over one of those chaise lounges that littered the palace. He’d take her in those and her delicate slippers, her bodice gaping so her breasts spilled out, and—

He dragged his mind from fantasy to reality, appalled he could get caught up in dreams when she was in his arms, wet and hot and wanting.

“Remember,” he murmured, curling her hand around her neck and drawing her close. “Not a sound.”

His fingers slipped into her smalls and he cupped the scalding heat of her. Soft curls brushed against his palm. He’d always found body hair, of which elves had little, to be revolting, but her curls were slick with her want, and the obvious evidence of her arousal aroused him.

She gasped, and he crushed her mouth to his to muffle the quiet moans she seemed incapable of suppressing. Not that he minded. Every noise she made caused heat to coil in his body, stringing tight muscles barely used.

She shivered and trembled as he parted her slick folds with two fingers. She keened when his nails flicked lightly over her clit. He circled the little nub until one of her hands curled in his tunic and the other clutched at the back of his head, her nails scraping against his scalp.

His tongue swept into his mouth as he traced her entrance, swallowing her cry of delight. Her hips rocked against his, and satisfaction shot through him like an arrow. Having her in his arms, pleasuring her like this, was almost as good as being inside her. Almost as pleasing. Almost.

One finger slipped into her, pressing deep, and her hips jerked against his. “I will have you,” he murmured to her in Elvish, his lips never leaving hers. Her cunt tightened around him, and he laughed softly. Darkly. She clenched around him again. “You like the sound of my voice,” he said in her own tongue.

“Whatever you’re saying, don’t stop,” she whispered, and so he continued. He whispered the most obscene things into her mouth as he slipped a second finger into her, as he stroked the soft walls of her cunt until she trembled and sagged against his chest. Her nails dug into the back of his head, but the pain was nothing compared to the heat of her. She burned him, sent fire roaring through him, made it hard to think.

“Molten fire,” he crooned in Elvish, curling his fingers inside her as his thumb brushed over her clit, tracing Elvish letters into her flesh. Each of the long forgotten glyphs of his people’s alphabet was its own spell, and she gasped with each sensation that rippled through her. A pleased smile curled his lips as he drew her closer and closer to the edge. “So tight and wet. I will have you, and you will be mine.”

She keened against his mouth, her tongue touching his lip. He kissed her, sucking her tongue into his mouth, and as his teeth nipped at her, she came undone in his arms. Her hips rocked into his hand in jerky, erratic motions, her cunt bearing down on his fingers as if to pull him deep and keep him there.

Just the thought of her cunt squeezing his cock like that was nearly enough to undo him.

When she stilled, he pulled his fingers from her, wiping them almost dry on her thighs. “So you remember,” he said in her tongue. Then he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean as she stared. Her taste was exquisite. Heavier, headier, richer than an elvhen woman’s, alien and strange but no less delightful.

“You,” she breathed, the hand curled in his tunic releasing fabric to trail down his chest. Her fingers brushed over his cock, cupping him. “I want to—”

“Have you seen the Inquisitor?” an Orlesian man said somewhere behind them. He wasn’t close. Over the Inquisitor’s shoulder, Solas saw him speaking with a gaggle of women, all giggling.

“Like moths to flame,” he said, removing her hand from him though it pained him.

“Let them find us,” she said, twisting free and rubbing her palm down his length.

He hissed, letting his eyes fall shut, wondering how, again, she’d managed to best him. He knew she wasn’t inexperienced, but there was no possible way her experience outstripped his. Yet again she was mastering him, defeating him, cajoling him to dance to the tune she sang. How he wanted to.

“No,” he insisted. He shifted away from her, her wrinkled skirts falling around her ankles, hiding her strong legs and ridiculous slippers. “Go.”

She went.

He watched her, taken entirely by the sway of her hips as she walked. The Orlesians were smart enough to know the stride of a woman pleased. He wondered what they would make of it. Let them see. Let them wonder who the Inquisitor desired enough to tryst with under their very noses.

Not much later, he drifted into the ballroom to find her dancing with Florianne. She danced, he realized, the way she would have sex. Her every motion was soft and sure, alluring and intriguing. Her hips swung in blatant invitation, her fingers lingering, her eyes hot behind her mask. Florianne licked her lips far too many times during their dance; she was not unaffected. Around him, he heard the nobles whisper.

“She was in the gardens with a lover.”

“Imagine those hips in bed.”

“Such power and grace in her form. Such elegance.”

“Who could possibly intrigue her enough for a dalliance?”

Visceral satisfaction made his lips curl.

When they made their way through the royal wing, she was still in her gown, and he was on her heels the entire time. His fingers brushed over her back, her hips, her arms at every opportunity. He deliberately touched his fingers to his mouth when she looked at him, delighting in the way her pupils dilated and her breath hitched.

But she was not passive. She flicked magic at him, pressed her will against his own like a full-bodied caress. When he crouched to loot a body, her fingers drifted over his ears casually, as if the touch was accidental. She gave him wicked, promising smiles, and it was all he could do not to drag her into a closet and fuck her. Half of him wondered if that was her game, if she was trying to get him to snap. She would be disappointed. His self-control, frayed as it was, was still monumental in comparison to hers.

And then they discovered a man bound naked to Celene’s bed. Cassandra was disgusted, Cole confused, but the Inquisitor. Her reaction sent heat licking through his veins. Her eyes widened with surprise and then narrowed – with interest.

Solas slipped behind her, whispering, “Would you let me bind you thus?”

“No,” she breathed.

“No? Would you prefer me bound?”

She glanced at him through thick lashes. “Perhaps.”

He would let her, he realized. He would let her bind her, would be content to be her plaything. The thought of it made him ache. “I think,” he said slowly, softly, “you wouldn’t mind being bound, helpless, unable to do anything but take what I give you.” She inhaled sharply. “We could agree to take turns.”

“You mean this to go beyond tonight?”

He didn’t answer her. Not right away. They ensured the man’s willing testimony and proceeded to the courtyard where, to no one’s surprise, Florianne attempted to kill them. The Inquisitor fought magnificently, a vengeful warrior goddess in her flaming dress and flashing rubies, and when the fight was ended, he paused by her side to murmur, “I mean to have you until you cannot think of sex without thinking of me as well, Inquisitor.”

She moaned. Clapped her hand to her mouth.

Just outside the door to the ballroom, he paused, pretending to study a book left on the ground. “A moment, Inquisitor,” he said, glancing at Cassandra as she hovered in the doorway. “A question of magic, Seeker. We will be mere moments.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, rightly so, but she left them.

He was on her in a second, pressing her to the wall, curling his fingers around her neck and her chin to tip back her head for a demanding kiss that was all teeth and tongue. Her hands went unerringly to his trousers, tugging at the placard until it fell free. She pulled his cock from his pants, stroking the length of it with fingertips callused by years of working with a staff and quill, and he snarled softly into her mouth.

“I have to have you,” she whispered, turning her face to pepper kisses along his jaw to his ear. “You’ve teased me too much. I can’t bear it.” Her voice sounded weak. It wavered when she spoke.

Good. He wanted her wavering, whimpering, needy and desperate. He wanted her to be blind to anything except desire, to the point where she would give him whatever he asked for whenever he asked for it. He was a man obsessed, and nothing would ease his obsession except for her. He was also a liar, and he knew that to be a lie. He would want her for the rest of his life, long after her human years took her to her grave.

“I should make you wait,” he said as she stroked him, as her fingers slipped around the head of his cock and teased a drop of precum from his tip.

“Don’t.” There was a steely warning in her voice, and he remembered all those times, millennia ago, that women had made demands of him and he’d denied them. Not just to be contrary, no, though there was pleasure in that, but to ratchet their lust higher. To make them burn brighter.

He rocked himself into her hand, a wordless murmur of pleasure escaping him as he slid against her soft palm. “You have to deal with Florianne. She could make her move as I fucked you, Inquisitor. She could slay Celene while I was buried inside you and you screamed for me.”

She was panting, her eyes wild. “I don’t care.”

“You do.”

Her fingers tightened around him, dragging up his length before dropping down to cup his balls. He bit back an Elvish curse, dropping his forehead against hers. “I do,” she agreed finally, at last, and her fingers withdrew from his cock. “Are you as hard for me as I am wet for you?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Then I shall make this quick.”

His lips curled. “I intend to savor you, Inquisitor.”

Her fingers left his cock. Touched his lips. “My name,” she murmured, and she whispered it to him like it was a precious secret. He returned it, giving it an Elvish accent, and she shivered in his arms. “I have to go.”

“Then go,” he said, making no move to stop her.

She hesitated again before slipping from his arms.

A few minutes later, after righting his trousers, he passed through the door as well, catching the tail end of her confrontation with Florianne. He prowled the edges of the ballroom as she went onto a balcony with Gaspard, Celene, and Briala. Only Celene and Briala returned. He wondered why. Wondered if she saw parallels between the Empress and her lover and her with him. A needless, unnecessary, foolish parallel. Celene and Briala had a chance for a happy ending. She and he had only the moments they stole. There would be no happy ending for them.

They made their pretty speeches, and then she drifted away, moving easily around the ballroom toward him. Cullen intercepted her.

Solas watched the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces lean toward her, watched his fingers curl at his sides, watched the way his shoulders tightened with tension. He was half in love with her, Solas realized, and he felt a moment’s sadness for all three of them. For himself for craving that which had destroyed his people, for her for wanting a creature that she could never tame, and for Cullen for desiring a woman who would be ruined for other lovers by morning. It was unfair in every way.

The dark, twisted parts of him howled with remorseless glee.

Briala slipped up to his side. “It will not end well for you,” she said softly. “She will never acknowledge you. You will never be more to her than a pleasant diversion she hides from everyone else.”

Solas lifted both brows, lacing his fingers behind his back. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“Every wall has many eyes,” Briala said. “We saw you with her.”

“Ah.”

Briala’s eyes flashed behind her mask. He wondered if she was seeking to draw some sort of reaction from him, some kind of inflammatory response to her goading. She would not succeed. Compared to him, she was a child at games of manipulation. “And if she does acknowledge you, which would be foolish, all her enemies will become yours, too.”

A quiet sound of amusement escaped him. “You misunderstand,” he said, being deliberately oblique.

“Then it wasn’t you with your hand up her skirts in the gardens? It wasn’t you who she was fondling before she swept in here with her opinions on how Orlais should manage itself?” Briala all but spat the words, but the venom did not surprise him.

With an easy shrug, he turned away from her. “If it was, it’s none of your business.”

“She will destroy you.”

At that, Solas actually laughed, and the sound was laced with malice and bitterness and several millennia of loathing. Momentarily stunned by the sound, Briala shifted a step back. “You are mistaken,” he told her, and when he looked at her, he allowed her to see just slightly past the banal mask he wore.

He was diminished, yes. Much of his power had withered during his sleep, an atrophied muscle that needed to be slowly and carefully restored. But the core of who he was, the wild and capricious god who bestowed poisoned favors on the worthy, that was not changed. And that was what he allowed her to see.

“You see much but understand little,” he said. “There is a vast chasm between knowledge and wisdom. They are not interchangeable.” He ended the conversation there, stepping away from her and making his way from the ballroom. As he went, he caught the Inquisitor’s gaze.

Her eyes glittered behind her mask.

She found him not five minutes later on a secluded balcony overlooking one of the many gardens. “Solas.”

“Do you hear the music?” he asked, catching her about the waist and spinning her into an old, elvhen dance that fit the beat of the human music. She stumbled, but he compensated, sweeping her into a slow glide. “Dancing,” he said, bending his head toward hers. She stared at him from behind that fierce, dangerous mask of hers. “Dancing is so much like sex.”

His leg slipped between her thighs, and his cock strained against his pants for her. The moment she’d stepped onto the balcony, he’d been hard for her. He knew how this would end.

Had they been in Arlathan, dancing at one of Sylaise’s fetes, his thigh would have pressed against her cunt, and his hand on the small of her back would have held her in place. As it was, her skirts got in the way, a thick cushion between them. But her lips parted on a gasp anyway, her pupils dilating with desire.

“Sleek,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers. “Sensual.” He turned her slowly, lacing their fingers together. His thumb brushed over her palm and she shivered. The hand on the small of her back drew her closer, and he fitted their hips together as closely as he could with her full skirts. Not even her skirts could disguise his arching arousal.

“No one dances like this,” she protested softly, but she shifted against him. Rubbed over him.

He swayed with her in time to the music, moving her until her back was to the balustrade, and then he pinned her there. “I’ve seen dances like this in the Fade.” Not untrue. “Let me share with you a secret.”

Her fingers, curled around his, tightened. Her hand on his shoulder shifted so that her fingers could stroke the back of his neck.

“If you want to bed someone, you don’t take them to bed.” He brushed his mouth against hers with each word, drinking in the sight of her lust.

“You take them to a balcony?” she asked, and she flicked her tongue over his lower lip.

He laughed, low and dark, releasing her hand to settle both of his on her waist. He trapped her between his body and the balustrade, holding her there with his hips. “You take them dancing. You seduce them in the dance. Slowly, carefully. You pour sensual carnality into your every movement. Your touches linger. You let your eyes burn. And then, at the end of the evening, when they are breathless and drunk on their desire for you, you take them.”

“To bed?”

“Wherever they’ll let you have them.” He lifted his hands to her face, carefully removing her mask. Setting it aside, he kept his eyes fixed on hers. Her makeup was still intact, and she looked like a goddess incarnate. Gold and red framed her eyes like wings, making the striking color of her irises vibrant. He smiled. It was not a kind smile. “You, for instance, will let me take you here. On this balcony.”

A protest rose on her lips and he smothered it with a kiss. That protest became a moan, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself full against him.

His fingers went to her tunic, making quick work of the buttons as his tongue toyed with hers, tantalizing and teasing until she was rocking against him in jerky, needy motions. Her breasts spilled from her tunic, heavy and full, and he cupped them in greedy hands. She was so much more lush than any elvhen woman, so much more richly proportioned. It should have nauseated him. Instead, her body was an obscene torment, one that haunted his every moment, waking or sleeping.

She arched into his touch, pressing her breasts into his palms, and he laughed into the kiss, exultant. Triumphant.

Drawing back, brushing his thumbs over her nipples, he looked down at her. At her flushed cheeks, at the freckles splattered like paint over her skin. He glanced briefly at the garden below them. Pockets of people were there, listening to a minstrel sing.

“Turn around,” he commanded her, dropping his hands to her waist.

For a moment, she stared at him. Then she shook her head slightly. “Solas—”

“Turn around,” he said again, and he lifted one hand from her hip, the one that blocked her exit. She could do up her buttons and leave if she wanted. It was her last escape. If she didn’t go now, he wouldn’t be able to let her go.

She turned.

A growl reverberated in his chest, low and dark and full of need, and he lifted her skirts, bearing her ass as she leaned her hands against the balustrade. “Perfect,” he said, his voice thick and raspy as he ran his hands over the lush swell of her ass. “You are perfect.”

She pressed back, rubbing herself against the hard line of his cock through his trousers, and a little moan escaped her.

“Not a sound,” he reminded her gently as he slipped his fingers between her legs, past wet curls, delving two into her cunt without preamble. He clapped the other hand over her mouth just in time to cover her reedy wail, and he pressed his lips to her neck to smother his laughter. “Wet. So wet.” He couldn’t believe how wet she was and how her slick arousal strung him tighter, made him hotter. He practically burned for her. Could feel flames licking through his veins, smoldering at the tips of his fingers.

He held his fingers inside her, held her, and soaked in the feel of her. The heat of her. Against him, she whimpered and keened, her hips rocking and twisting as she sought some kind of solace from his touch. He denied her, moving with her. It was like an old dance, one he hadn’t expected to remember.

But he did remember it, and he remembered it well. “You have unraveled me,” he murmured against her skin, speaking the words in Elvish because he couldn’t stand the thought of her knowing how well she owned him. “You have broken me.” His teeth caught her earlobe as he curled his fingers inside her, as he brushed his thumb over her clit.

She sobbed against his hand, and he laughed again, unable to stop the sound from slipping past his lips.

“You are a delight.” The words were lyrical, beautiful, all soft consonants and rounded vowels, and though she could not know what they meant, her body rippled and clenched around him as if she did. As if she understood on a fundamental level that he whispered her praises like a priest at worship.

He twisted his fingers inside her as his tongue traced the rounded shell of her ear. He thought it might curb his passion, to remind himself that she was human. Instead, it shredded what remained of his control. The things that made her human were precisely the things he craved, like an addict craved a hit of his next drug even though he knew that next hit could be the one that ended him.

He stroked and petted, caressed and teased until she was writhing beneath him. He delighted in the familiar steps of their dance, drawing her in a spiral closer and closer to the edge of mind-shattering pleasure. “Will you come for me?” he asked in her human tongue. Her tongue flicked against his palm and he hissed, pressing his cock against her ass and hating the fabric that separated them. “Will you shatter for me?”

She was close, teetering on the edge, and he pushed her just a little more. A tremor ran through her, her cunt tightening around his fingers.

“Not yet,” he said, and he dragged his fingers from her body. She gasped, moaned, shook her head against his hand. When he withdrew his hand from her mouth, she started to say something. He pressed the fingers slick with her arousal between her lips instead. “Suck,” he commanded.

She obeyed, and her tongue on him nearly ended him. Later, he promised himself, he’d have her on her knees. He would strip her of everything except her necklace and the rubies in her hair, and he’d have her suck his cock before the fire so that the rubies caught the flames and burned. She was quick and clever with her tongue. Obscene.

Unable to bear being outside her, he tore at his trousers with his free hand, pulling fabric aside until he could guide his cock into her. He pushed her smalls out of his way and slid into her as he pulled his fingers from her mouth.

Her cunt squeezed him, hot and tight and so slick there was no resistance. He slid into her easily, pressing all the way inside her, and she gasped his name, her head thrown back and her silky hair spilling over her back like a waterfall.

He couldn’t stop himself from twining her hair around his fist. With his other hand, he cupped one of her breasts. “Brace yourself,” he told her, “and don’t make a sound.” His tongue flicked over her ear. “Imagine what the court would say if they actually saw you with your manservant.”

He thrust hard into her and she choked on a cry, swallowing it as she arched her back and pressed back into him. Holding her hair and her breast, he had little leverage. She had to do most of the work, and he exulted in watching her fuck him. Watching her take him. She was eager and greedy, pressing her ass to his belly and then grinding herself on his cock. Then she would take him in short, quick strokes followed by longer, deeper ones. Those he liked those the best.

The sight of his cock slick with her juices was heady, drawing fire through his veins to pool in his groin in a molten blaze.

Yanking on her hair, he bowed her back, arched her neck. His lips touched her forehead as she gasped, as she whimpered, as she moaned and keened his name. “They’ll hear,” he reminded her, and she bit her lip but she didn’t stop making those incredible sounds.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bedded a woman so earnestly vocal. Every one of those sounds went straight through him, and he throbbed inside of her as she clenched around him, her muscles trembling.

“You’re close, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes shut, her lips parted. She ground herself against him, lifting one hand from the rail.

He caught her in an instant, slapping her hand back down. “No.”

She moaned, and the sound was loud enough that a pair of nobles below them both jumped, looking around in surprise. “Please, Solas. Please, I need—”

“To come?” He nuzzled against the back of her ear. “They heard you.” Her body squeezed him at the words, and he snarled softly. “You like that they heard. Do you want them to catch us?”

A reedy wail broke from her, and scandalized gasps rose from the garden below them as people began lifting their heads.

She might want to be found, but he did not. He didn’t want to share her. Pulling out of her, he spun her, all but slamming her against the wall and into the shadows. Without hesitation, she yanked her skirts out of the way, wrapping a leg around his hips and rubbing herself against him.

“Inside me,” she whimpered, “I need you back inside me.” His cock slid against her entrance, and he hissed, needing to be back inside her almost as badly as she wanted him there.

“Impatient.” He reached between them, guiding himself back into her.

There was nothing easy about how he took her then. He was brutal, demanding, and he was sure her hips and ass would be bruised in the morning. He didn’t care. One hand grasped her waist, the other urged her other leg to wrap around him, too. He was stronger than he looked. Supporting her wouldn’t be difficult, not when she was so slight.

He thrust into her without mercy or even much grace. The dance didn’t call for either. They were past the point of elegant overtures. Now it was just passion and need that built like a storm of fire and lightning inside him, that made the air around them crackle. He could smell rain – her magic – and heavy spice – his own.

She grasped at his shoulders, arching her back to take him deeper, and he took her harder, answering her unspoken pleas as senseless whimpers and murmurs spilled from her mouth.

Another time, he would have played with her. Kept her like this for as long as his body could hold out against the pleasure. He would have made her come until she lost her sense of self, until he had to piece her mind back together, rebuilding her from shattering pleasure.

Instead, he dipped his fingers to her clit, stroking her, petting her, tracing ancient Elvish words across her flesh. Words of ownership. Words of desire. “Come for me,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to hers. He swallowed her moaned reply, flicked his fingers over her clit.

Her cunt clenched around him, but she wasn’t there yet.

He pulled his mouth from hers, pressing his lips to her ear, and whispered, “Scream your pleasure. Let them hear you.”

He traced a glyph for fire over her clit, and she did scream. Her cry of pleasure was loud and wordless, piercing the air with such clarity that no one in the gardens would doubt someone was fucking her with exceptional skill. He was exceptional. So was she.

She came for him, her body rippling and undulating, a siren call of pleasure he couldn’t ignore. Another time, he promised himself as he lost the rhythm, as ecstasy stole the last, shredded remains of his control. He thrust into her again, then a second, more harried time. On the third, he shuddered and came, too, his body breaking under the pleasure of hers.

Heat burned through him, pouring from him into her in the form of his seed, filling her. It delighted him to think she’d spend the rest of her evening with his come dripping down her thighs, drying on her legs, reminding her of what she’d done. And the burn of release was a sweet relief. He’d spent most of the evening uncomfortably hard for her. At last, with passion realized, the tension of it left him.

But not entirely. Now he would be consumed with the thoughts of his seed on her thighs. He wanted to drag her to her suite, throw her to the floor or onto her bed, tear off her skirts, and press his mouth between her legs to taste himself on her.

Instead, he pulled out of her slowly, carefully, and her legs lowered to the ground. “I don’t know that I can walk,” she admitted with a laugh.

“You’ll have to.” He stepped away from her, tucking his soft cock back into his pants. He looked up, watching her as she worked the buttons on her tunic. “Wait,” he said softly.

She froze.

He leaned toward her, bracing one hand on the wall over her shoulder. He knocked her hands away from her buttons, letting the fabric of her tunic fall away from her skin, and he fastened his mouth to the swell of one breast. He sucked her skin until she moaned, until her fingers ghosted over his ears and his skull. His teeth bit into her soft flesh, marking her, bruising her, and then he drew back, satisfied with his work.

When she refastened the buttons, the edge of the love bite was still visible, red and swollen against the milky color of her skin.

“Did you have to?” she asked, brushing a finger over it.

Satisfaction curled within him. “Yes,” he said, catching her chin in two fingers. “You have more dancing to do?”

Her lips twisted in a grimace. “Unfortunately.”

“You enjoy dancing,” he purred, stepping close enough to her to tease. “Do you not?”

She licked her lips and said nothing. Her face gave her away.

Turning, he plucked her mask from the balustrade and helped her tie it about her head. He set her to rights, knowing that his essence stained her thighs and would until she bathed. “Leave the door to your bedroom unlocked, Inquisitor,” he said softly. “I believe you’ll want to dance with me again before the dawn.”

[mojotheroot]

I wish everyone would stop saying

“ Just forget him”

“ Move on”

“ He is not worth it” etc.  The countless pep talks that are meant to help me move on, they seem so dismissive. Like a lack of empathy to my pain and situation. Or an intolerance to seeing my suffering. Because I can’t simply forget and move on because he was and is worth holding on to for me personally. Perhaps that is just hope.

Tricky bitch that it is.

I have at least come to the realization that I am not attracting toxic people.

The truth is that toxic people are not picky.

Sure, they may have a preference for a particular prey. But ultimately, I do not think they are picky about who they destroy as long as they are destroying someone.

The real question is not why the toxic people are abundant in my life but why do I allow them to stay.

That is what I need to change the most.

This sounds a lot more mental positive than claiming that I am “broken”. 

As mortifying as it sounds, I think a toxic person can initially be beneficial to any relationships.

It can ground any ideals that may be impractical.

It is surely a reminder of where you do not want a relationship to go.

It allows the setting of hard boundaries.

The trick is to enforce those boundaries.

When the person has crossed them, it is time to move past it as quick as  possible and let them go.

As easy as that sounds... I give reasonable advice but seldom ever follow it…that kind of shit you know.

All of that said, it still seems a somewhat monumental task to just move on from this heartbreak.

I was once told that for however long you were together you do some math stuff and the result was how long it would take to find some form of solace.

Without putting into account the depth of the connection and what time sentence that carries as well…sigh…I got a while to go before I can safely move on.

The hardest part is the waiting. Damn , I feel like I have waited lifetimes already for a response. And it has only been…only 16 days?  Wait…16 days have passed?! Feels oddly like only hours since our last words but again, it also feels like a lifetime. Shit this is going to be a hell of a ride. It is already bad enough as is.

Sixteen days----384 hours- 23,000 minutes and some change…huh… my mind is a bit shook over that.

All of those hours and minutes have been filled with echoes of the words he once said.

Statements that my mind is struggling to categorize as lies, all while my heart and soul is hanging on to them as canon truths.

I think, for healing purposes, I can acknowledge the reasoning for the depths of my feelings over these statements that are perpetual in my mind.

They came at a time where I was legit mentally broken.

I had given up loving others.

Rather I had grouped the world into two categories:

People that can be trusted because they had yet to figure out how to use me

and

People that were actively not to be trusted because they were using me. 

I absolutely give up on love.

I mean why should I even bother with it when I didn’t even love myself?

Love was a banal attempt at getting closer to another because ultimately you wanted something.

A chemical con-job the brain produces to lull the sense to any potential predator response the brain could possibly trigger (gut instinct can be loud I guess in the initial meeting…maybe it is that predator response…can digest that later perhaps) but really it is just the brain getting us closer for evolutionary purposes if we cut through all the shit and be honest. Not a good premise for a romance novel or poetry.

But it is true.

I digress.

As I said, I had already thoroughly become disgusted at the idea of people as a whole and given all faith in humanity up.

It was just me and the rest of the world were NPC [non playable characters] or distracting side quests completely irrelevant to the main quest regardless of how they may enhance a storyline.

And that is where our villain enters the scene.

He swoops in almost immediately recognizing and acknowledging my pain.

From the start it was intensity of the Sun.

He wasted no time at all.

The first thing was establishing trust.

He did this with kind patience. Listening to me cry.

Just sitting there with a hand on my shoulder. Waiting and saying nothing until it passed.

Then the phrase that I have come to loathe and is likely now the entirely of my reasoning to almost immediately disassociate from a person and be on red alert:

“ You can trust me.”

The first time he said that, I was totally shocked at the ludicrous idea of it.

Trust you? Trust anyone?

What a novel idea but my mind had long ago already established fantasy parameters and boundaries based solely on that phrase alone.

Yet, he persisted.

For some time, he would always seem to find me alone, broken down and in an utter mess of a mental state.

Like he had a radar for the heart ache.

And we would go through the motions, he would comfort me with physical presence or a warm touch.

All sprinkled with kind soothing words.

Then the expansion upon the phrase came as “ You can tell me what is on your mind. Trust me please.”

This was new to me.

Like it stopped me deadass in mid fall to contemplate the idea because it had never before been offered as an option to me.

Sure folks would say I could talk to them about anything before but that was always context based like if I wanted to talk about a shared interest or even how I felt about a particular scholastic or political idea. But, never had anyone offered permission to talk about things that were hurting me.

It was generally presented to us as children in my household that one just did not talk about what was hurting them inside, not unless it was something that required a visit to the hospital. Mental trauma was a product of a weak person.

And be damned if we ever allowed the world to perceive us as such because we already had enough strikes by being poor.

Let the world see you struggle with a smile on your face.

At any rate, the idea of having somebody that wanted to hear why I cry…why I hurt…and mind you this was completely unsolicited by me with any words or actions other than my own distress; had incited a curiosity.

So, the seed was planted.

I resisted it of course.

The soil of my heart was salted and had the sole purpose of wallowing in the misery of whatever current dilemma I was facing.

It was a burial plot.

A place I would die a thousand times per day.

I had put my red alert on but was inquisitive while also dismissing the entire idea as a “ good Christian’s act of kindness” and nothing more than a self-imposed penance for Original Sin.

And yet he expanded the phrase again.

This time, it was the bullet that struck the mark.

I remember that night.

I was deep into my feels.

Almost inconsolable and wanted nothing more than to cocoon myself up in it and let the flood of emotions drown me.

He came to me unexpectedly this time.

Whereas normally he would do a knock on the door or some tentative inquisition as to my need for help.

I was face down drowning my pillow in salt tainted water and he slid next to me on my bed.

Naturally, I jumped in response to this intrusion. Whereas he grabs me by the shoulders and wraps his arms tightly around me. Smoothing my disgruntled hair and cooing “It is okay, it is okay.” I lay there completely consumed by this grief that wracked my very core on a daily bases from a time that seems like since birth.

And then he touches my tear drenched cheek and travels to my downfaced  chin and lifts it like it is the most fragile thing he has ever touched before until my closed by shame eyes were level to his and opened them with a single kiss to the cheek. He said:

“ Please let me help you. Talk to me. I want to help. Trust me. I just want to help. “

I must have visibly shown to him my abhorrence to the idea of trusting because he then used the most sacred three words that is often thrown around like such a mundane thing…he said -I love you.

Now, I have heard this often of course. It is a phrase used so much in Southern families and amongst friends in parting or as a sign of pleasure to any particular act that needs emphasis.

But, this was the first time I had it said to me; albeit in such a serene way, where it was delivered with a penetrate force and I felt it inside.

After those words, I stammered at first the dismissive phrases degrading my obvious mental distress.

He was not taking that as an answer.

He leaned in and held me close. Heart to heart and whispered random things if nothing more than to steadily chisel away my resolve.

Which worked of course but, I was not about to initiate sharing my feelings at this point because it seemed to me futile since I was calming down.

He must have sensed the shift and the settling calm because he stops talking and with no hesitation wipes the tears from my eyes with the palm of his hands and smooths my face with a gentle caress.

And the next step was for me the most intimate thing I had experienced in a long time.

He looked me in the eyes, something I had all but identified at a young age as an act solely reserved for dominance and degradation and he smiled with his very own and asked in a pleading tone if I could learn to trust him, because he would not hurt or betray me with anything we talked about. He just wanted to help me. And then that three word phrase to add emphasis.

I melted then and my mouth betrayed my mind and words came out like a volcanic force.

When the eruption was over, he smiled at me. Smoothed my eyebrows with his thumb and held my hands ( this would become a permanent act of intimacy between us anytime we met henceforth) and we sat up in bed and he held me again.

I shuttered in response to another round of emotional tears and he held tighter and said it was okay, he was there for me. And I stopped.

Because I felt it in my soul that he meant that.

And there it was. I had started to feel again.

It was like a tiny itch at first.

Nagging and begging to be scratched.

Weeks went on, we got closer. And I remember out of nowhere telling him in response to his kindness, I love you...

Damn I was fucked with one phrase and knew it the moment it leapt unexpectedly from my lips.

Not simply the phrase itself but it was the way it felt coming out.

Because the moment it passed my teeth I felt with it’s expulsion the crumbling of the walls I had built around myself.

And he knew it because he smiled with his eyes and embraced me.

I was completely at his mercy when it came to any curiosity about how I was feeling or how I felt about anything at all.

I was enthralled with this new freedom to say how I felt to somebody that legitimately wanted to know and encouraged it.

Every time I would breakdown and ultimately attempt to put up walls he would coax me with his unwavering patience and wield his kindness with the skill of any warrior with a sword and promptly redirect me so we remained open with one another.

Simply waiting until he changed his attention to some other idea or thought was never an option because he remained patient and waited until I would eventually speak even if he had to use prompts.

But it was never an option again for me to simply dismiss and bury my feelings.

So, here I am...flipped and twisted and not entirely sure where things go from this point.