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mostlycompetentwriter · 10 months ago

Text

Thunderous

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Bang Chan

Word Count: 11K

Genre: Werewolf AU! Royalty AU!

Warnings: There are some elements of non-con in this fanfic. Please don’t read if you don’t like those elements. Mentions of knotting and rough sex. There’s also a lot of explicit smut and language throughout.

Summary: The Wolf King’s name seared your heart. You had been chosen as the youngest and most expendable daughter to be his mate. But you were terrified of the legends surrounding his bloody campaigns. How were you going to survive?

Tag List: @armystay89 @captainchrisstan @starseekersworld @melsunshine @kibs-and-bits

The Wolf King’s name whispered through the trees and hummed between the villages like the ancient stories of the gods.

Some of the villagers claimed that he could transform—bones cracking and teeth elongating until there was no man left. They said his claws could cut through trees and that his howl silenced the instincts of the mountain lions who cowered in their dens. In place of human skin, fur sprouted thick and rough, darkening until it matched the color of the shadows.

The myth and lore had been passed down for years, and you found yourself on the receiving end of all those stories. As the Wolf King’s future mate, you had also become something of an enigma around the kingdom. People looked at you with a glint of respect, bowing their heads and moving out of your way whenever you made your rounds.

The attention that you hated. Especially when the marriage had been arranged without your willing compliance. Young girl fantasies of handsome princes and distant lands vanquished in an instant. But even if you couldn’t indulge in happiness anymore, there had been a time when you allowed yourself to dream about your wedding.

Bubbling colors of red and green—like your kingdom’s annual yuletide celebrations—and a long, flowing white gown extending across the floor like an elegant brush of paint. Pure as you had always been. There was beautiful music in your dream, and a gorgeous prince to take you into his arms and glide you across the floor like the clouds moving in the sky.

Fantasies, indeed.

Instead, of merriment and goodwill, you found yourself trembling from head to toe, holding tight to the sleeve of your handmaiden’s gown as she escorted you through the recital hall, down the aisle to where you recognized the Wolf King waiting.

You had only met him twice before. Once, when you had just turned twelve, on the day your families agreed to meet over the prospect of securing peace between your rival kingdoms.

When you were both little children, the Wolf King had no reputation. He was just a boy, and you greeted him with a smile—ignorant of the true purpose of your first meeting. While your parents talked about the future, you showed the Wolf King your favorite flowers, handing him individual stems while your mother bargained your life away:

“A union is our commitment to peace,” your mother had once proclaimed, reaching out to softly pat your curls. “We think they’ll do well together.”

“Yes.” But Chan’s mother didn’t seem convinced. She was an elegant and beautiful woman with long black hair and bright red eyes to match his defining features. “Chan will decide who he wants to marry,” his mother said.

“Y/N will make a good wife when she comes of age,” your mother insisted. “We’ll hire the best teachers to ensure that she is prepared for her duties.”

“That matters little to us,” Chan’s father spoke, and he regarded you like one might grimace at an annoying ant to step on.

You shied away from his intimidating stare, looking instead at Chan as he designed a flower crown for you, placing it on top of your head with a proud smile.

It was the last time he would ever show such kindness.

Over the years proceding your first meeting, Chan became a man, and his reputation for ruthlessness and fury ignited a storm of gossip.

“The Wolf King stands taller than the gods!”

“The Wolf King slaughtered a village because they refused to bow down to him!”

“He’s a monster! Have mercy on us all!”

You became terrified at any mention of the Wolf King, wondering if your parents were still serious about a union. You found out the hard way when your mother invited the Wolf King and his generals to your kingdom. But you didn’t stick around for very long.

The next time you met, you were sixteen, and you ran away to the gardens in a rare show of rebellion against your parents who had expected you to dress pretty and show off for Chan.

But that wasn’t in your nature, and your instincts screamed at you to avoid the Wolf King. And you thought that you were alone in the forest. Surrounded by the quiet of the thick foliage. But then you heard the bushes move, and you noticed a large black head peering at you with piercing red eyes.

You relaxed when you realized that it was just a common wolf—probably one from the mountain packs, and you weren’t frightened. Animals had always held a special place in your heart, and you approached the wolf with palms upturned to show your peaceful intentions. The wolf never moved, and you stroked your fingers through the coarse fur on his head.

You returned home that evening thinking your father would scold you for running off like that. But you were instead warmly greeted by your parents who were both ecstatic. “He agreed to marry you, Y/N!” your mother exclaimed. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

It wasn’t.

Not at all.

And you had never experienced real fear in your entire life. But walking down the aisle in the chapel to where the fearless Wolf King waited for you, there was a bone-chilling tremble aching down your spine.

“So beautiful,” you heard faint whispers join together, urging you closer and closer to the Wolf King who gazed at you with the most intense stare you had ever received.

When you were within earshot, the Wolf King snatched your hand from the poor handmaiden who had been helping you walk down the aisle.

The girl quickly jumped to the side, bowing her head as the Wolf King forced you to stand in front of him, reaching down for your other hand. You reluctantly gave it to him, still looking at everything except for the Wolf King’s eyes, even if the little growl he gave showed that he disapproved.

You could hear your mother’s chastising voice in your head, scolding you for not pleasing the King. But you didn’t care anymore. Wasn’t it enough that you were standing there, giving your life away to a monster?

In the distant background, you could hear the priest delivering his lines, and when it was your turn, you gave your vow of allegiance, even if the words fell hot like acid from your unwilling tongue.

Thankfully, the ceremony did not require you to kiss him, dodging his wayward lips when they fell too close to yours.

There was a rush when the proceedings concluded, the firm ushering of hands leading you out of the chapel. You stumbled in your heels, bringing yourself inadvertently closer to the Wolf King who held tighter to your waist. You did not enjoy the closeness, swallowing down your nerves as you tried not to think about what came next.

The crowd eventually parted, giving you enough space to walk down the steps in the open air, briefly acknowledging the cheering crowd spread through the streets. There was a distinct awe in the noise from the people around you, clambering over one another to get a good like at yourself and the predator who would soon claim you for his own. Wanting to acquaint themselves with your kingdom’s bargaining chip—a small sacrifice to ensure an alliance between your people and the ones who fought under Chan’s domain.

On paper, it seemed like a worthy solution to helping your kingdom protect its borders and fight off invaders. The problem was that you felt the weight of pleasing a man you had no interest in—someone who frightened you to your core. A sick knot tightened in your guts and your stomach clenched tighter as Chan led you to Castle Miroh—the notorious landmark of his territory symbolizing the power of the ruling family.

As the main doors parted, you winced at the sensation of the cold and harsh air inside, and a shiver passed down your spine as you forced yourself to keep up with Chan’s incessant pace, footsteps clacking against marble. It was dark in the corridors, and the only lighting came from the flames ensconced along the walls, casting everything in shadows. Ahead in the distance, you could see the outline of a grand staircase, and your eyes worked tirelessly to mark each step on your darkened path.

It turned out that Chan kept his quarters on the highest floor, latching your fingers together the entire time, even as you forced down the bile permanently hitched at the back of your throat at the thought of all the blood that had stained those hands.

At the top of the staircase, you were pulled to the left, marching down an impressive corridor with a soft, velvet carpet beneath your soles. Eventually, you found yourself in front of a large, wooden door, and Chan ushered you through the frame, a hand to your lower back as your eyes paused on the King-sized bed waiting beneath an unholy painting of a bloody battle scene.

You will present yourself to the Wolf King, you recalled the words of your tutor. He will expect obedience from his mate.

You blinked away tears, knowing what you were expected to do next, and deciding to push through your nerves before you lost the contents of your stomach on the floor. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to run, but you ignored your instincts, loosening the straps of your dress to allow it to pool into a mess on the floor at your feet, and kicking it aside as you eliminated the remaining distance to the bed.

You didn’t want to show him that you were weak. That he had any sort of influence that might condemn you a coward. You could not be seen as pathetic in the eyes of a monster, crawling on hands and knees to the center of the bed, head ducked down between your trembling arms and waiting.

Your breath caught when the bed dipped beneath his weight, and you gritted your teeth, feeling his hands take your hips with a powerful grip, nails digging into the soft skin.

The Wolf King will fuck you, your tutor had said, Then he will bite you to complete the mating ritual.

You had seen the Wolf King’s teeth. Sharp like razors and pointed at the ends. You would be a bloody mess at the end of this, but no one could ever accuse you of shirking your responsibilities. You had done everything expected of you, holding on to this thought of solace as you waited for him to take his fill.

“Don’t,” he abruptly whispered, startling you as he laid down on the mattress at your side, closing his eyes and letting out a grumble, completely unbothered with his own nakedness.

It must’ve happened while you were turned away, but it was still jarring to see so much pale skin on display, marred with jagged scars and scarlet bruises. Eyes trailing over the swell of his chest, over the ridges of his abs, and down to this impressive cock.

You swallowed hard. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“No,” Chan said, chest deflating. “You do not want that.”

His response surprised you, and you wanted nothing more than to hurriedly tuck the sheet around your body to hide you from him. “I thought you were meant to-”

“We are equals,” Chan interrupted with a much firmer tone. “And you are afraid.”

Equals? The word didn’t seem right coming from him, but you weren’t about to question what was seemingly amounting to an act of mercy. Quick as a flash, you had the sheet bundled against your chest, eyes wide as you looked him over. “The mating-”

“We can do the bite,” Chan continued as if he didn’t care that he wasn’t fulfilling the only purpose you had been given. “But in the morning. The celebrations earlier exhausted me. Such frivolous trivialities.”

“Won’t they notice-”

“Who are they?” Chan barked with a hint of a growl that had you flinching. “There is no one who orders the King around.”

His dark pupils met yours in the dark, searching for something. You swallowed hard, unsure what he was looking for, but focusing on the calming sensation of relief flooding your system at his unexpected mercy. “Thank you.”

He gave a curt nod, dipping his head to the space next to him. “Sleep.”

You obeyed, wondering if you could sleep next to him, even if he had shown you some degree of kindness. It still didn’t erase his bloody reputation, and it worried you to no end that you would be sleeping next to a killer. Born to fight his way to power and rule over his kind.

You took a deep breath, holding tight to the sheet, and closing your eyes. Perhaps it was the roller coaster of emotions weighing down on you from the day’s events, but you did manage to find sleep, even if it was troubled. Nightmares of wolves following you through the woods, red irises piercing you from the shelter of the trees, and claws slicing through flesh.

You gasped when your eyes sprung open against an onslaught of bright, morning light, heart palpitating in your chest when you met those same eyes looking down at you from above. Chan was a step ahead of you as if he could predict your movements, grabbing your hands in one of his own to hold them above your head. One of his powerful thighs slung across your lower body, holding you in place with a strength that ignited a fire of burning adrenaline.

“Hold still,” he said, giving you no other warning before teeth sank into the side of your neck, and your body panicked, fighting against him. Like he might take a chunk out of your neck and leave you on the bed to bleed out. Crimson against the cream-colored sheets.

Immediately, a pulsating shock erupted from the site of the wound, forcing a scream from between your lips at the overwhelming pain. “I know,” he said, and it was barely discernible over the sounds of your cries, unashamed to lose all inhibitions at the sensation of a pain you had never experienced before.

The Wolf King moved over top of you, and you flinched when you felt his tongue start to lap at the painful bite mark on your shoulder. “The pain will stop soon,” he said. “I’m sorry you have to suffer.”

You held back a whine, digging your nails into the soft flesh of your palms. You supposed he had helped the sting, but it still felt like a piece of glass was being sliced across your skin. Even if the guilt and remorse in his gaze were almost enough to distract you.

“Relax,” he soothed, releasing your hands which instinctively went to wipe at your eyes, drying the salty wetness that had accumulated.

“I- I can’t...”

“You can because you are mine now,” he declared in a tone that had a different flame sparking in your chest.

You nodded against the pain, focusing on taking deep breaths, and letting darkness take you under once more.

When you woke again, the King was ready for you. He explained that you were needed in the Throne Room to meet some important people. It turned out that the King had three brothers. They were all younger than him. Or so you had been told.

Their names were Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin. Feared and revered for their triumphs in battle.

Your Wolf King seemed proud to show them off, standing before you in an organized line: from oldest to youngest.

Felix reminded you of your own cousins, with his lithe figure, so much different from the King’s own bulk, and a head of flaming orange-red hair.

Next to him, in the middle, stood Seungmin. Dressed in dark clothes that only made his already dark hair even more onyx-black. Bright green eyes appraising you slowly.

Finally, there was Jeongin. The tallest of the three. And sporting the same dark-colored hair as his middle brother. He seemed to be the most innocent, eyes wide with wonder.

“They are here to support you,” Chan went on after introductions had passed. “Call on them if you need any help.”

Unlikely, but you forced a nod nonetheless.

“You are dismissed,” Chan informed them after you gave your acquiescence, and you watched them retreat in the same formation down the hall.

In their stead approached a shorter man, dressed in full battle attire. Well-muscled to stretch the fabric of his shirt and pants, with serious dark eyes. “My King,” the man said, bowing once. “You are needed on the training fields.”

You flinched when the man’s eyes found your neck, likely noting the swollen mess that Chan had left behind. “I’ll be there shortly, Changbin,” Chan said, and he waited until the man was gone before looking at you. “The Castle is yours, my Queen. Feel free to look around and acquaint yourself with your new home.”

“I will,” you whispered, forcing yourself to stay still when he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“Tonight, we can eat together,” came his parting words, and you grimaced at the idea of sharing a meal with him.

But the concept of sharing a meal with him was nowhere near as horrible as the idea that this place could ever be considered your home. What a nasty thought! This place was nothing more than a prison forced upon you because your parents were desperate for Chan’s allegiance.

“Why did he agree?” you huffed to yourself, spinning on your heel to start the trek back to your room—as much as you could remember. “Leaving me here as if I know where anything is!”

For months leading up to your shared nuptials, you had pondered the reason why the powerful Wolf King had even agreed to marry you in the first place. Neither of your meetings had been particularly impactful, and your Kingdom had nothing to benefit his own; in fact, your alliance was more of a detriment to Chan and his people—a burden that he willingly took on.

You turned the corner to the last corridor, grateful that you had managed to retrace your steps, faltering when you noticed something on the floor outside of your door. You kneeled to retrieve it, glancing at the writing and noting with a happy hum that it was addressed from the Northern Highlands!

“Grace!” you exclaimed, clutching the envelope to your chest as you quickly rushed inside your room, glancing back to ensure the door was locked before hopping onto the bed to rip the contents open.

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations on your marriage to Bang Chan - it will be a strong alliance for our parents and their Kingdom.

I apologize for my absence - Hyunjin was unable to make the accommodations.

As you know, snowfall comes to the Highlands in the upcoming months. It will soon be impossible for me to journey to you, or for you to make the journey here. I’d love to see you and your new husband before it is difficult to do so.

Please write to me when you can to arrange a visit.

Lovingly,

Grace

You read over the letter twice before releasing a deep sigh. Would your Wolf King even indulge in such a trip? Perhaps it wasn’t even necessary for him to go. You could make the trip on your own.

You held fast to that thought, of getting away from your prison even if only for a few days, as you lounged around in your room for the remainder of the day. There was little to entertain yourself with, re-reading Grace’s letter over and over again, and sitting outside on the little veranda attached to your room to watch the clouds moving in the sky.

It would be another mercy to escape Chan’s presence if you were to head North alone, but you were afraid that you were pushing your luck, wincing when you heard the door to your chambers opening again, returning inside from your observation of the grounds to greet Chan as you were expected to do.

“My queen,” he rumbled, reaching out to hold your shoulders between both hands, a grip that was impossible to mistake. “Were you able to see more of the Castle?”

“Yes,” you lied through clenched teeth, only breathing a little easier when he released you, eyes dropping to the letter in your hands.

“What is that?”

“It is from my sister,” you explained.

“I see.”

“She wasn’t able to attend the wedding,” you went on, saving yourself a bit of time as you scrambled for the best way to drop the news to him. Maybe it would just be best to try a blunt approach, giving him your demands since he insisted on calling you an equal. “I wish to see my sister,” you said, refusing to meet his gaze. “Before it is too dangerous to make the trip to the Northern Highlands.”

Chan grunted at your request, and you weren’t well-versed in his language to know what that meant. “She invited you?”

“I can go alone,” you said. “If it is too much for you.”

“I would love to come with you,” he said, disregarding the determination in your tone. “It will give us more time to spend together on our own.”

“Oh.” Your gaze remained trained on the floor, hopes dashed that you could leave him behind.

“It will be nice to visit there,” he said. “I will make the arrangements. You may write her back to expect us very soon.”

“As you wish,” you sighed, trying to keep the disappointment from your tone, flinching when he grabbed one of your wrists. He didn’t seem perturbed by your reaction, and you watched as he pulled a delicate piece of jewelry from his pocket.

“Well?” he smiled, something that made you shiver. “What do you think?”

“What is it?” you asked in return, resisting the urge to pull back the wrist clasped between his scarred fingers. Even if you did manage to finally meet his gaze.

“It is a gift for you,” Chan said with a smile you were not expecting—blinding and warm. “I made it myself.”

“You made this?”

“As our traditions dictate,” he agreed, keeping a firm hold on your wrist to clasp the little bracelet around your delicate flesh. “It is meant to show our bond to the world.”

You studied it curiously, noting the simple design and the small wolf-shaped carvings engraved in the metal. It was cold against your skin, even as the heat from his body balanced it out.

“Shall we eat?”

He dropped your wrist, and you were able to gather your bearings. “Of course.” You managed a nod, watching as he opened the door wide, allowing a small servant girl to enter the room.

The girl offered you both a respectful bow before she started to set the table, laying out silverware and fine china plates. Behind her, another girl rolled in a cart, wheels squealing on the floor, with prepared food steaming from beneath metal lids.

“Here, sit with me,” Chan said, patting the space on the bed next to him. “Until they are ready.”

You obeyed, sitting down next to him. Your gaze remained trained on the servant girls, moving about in a well-rehearsed manner as if they had done this too many times to count.

He reached for your hand, and you did your best not to flinch. “Look,” he whispered, urging you to follow his gaze. “This line on your hand, do you see the way it moves?”

You shivered as he traced the mark he referred to, following it up and down the length of your palm. “Yes,” you whispered, struck by the unexpected intimacy of the gesture.

Goosebumps followed the trail he left on your wrist, and you held your breath when he brought it to his lips. “The same as mine,” he said, almost reverently. Your eyes widened, breath hitching as he aligned your hands together. “A perfect match.”

You could hardly believe it, eyes searching back and forth, but seeing the same line digging into both of your skin. Like it belonged there.

“There are reasons for everything,” he said, and you felt a small flicker of shame when you read his knowing gaze as if he could sense those dark thoughts that you sheltered about him—wondering why you out of everyone in the world had been chosen to stand at his side. “I wouldn’t question so much,” he continued. “The things that fall into place so perfectly.”

He offered you a wink, surprisingly playful for a man of his reputation. “Let’s eat.”

You nodded, the most you could, and followed him to the table. He was polite as always, allowing you to pick first, waiting until your first bite before claiming his own. You were content, at that moment, to answer the questions he threw your way, increasingly aware of the way the place he had touched warming and the mark on your neck drummed in a gentle pulse.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, and there was less trepidation in your soul when you lay with Chan to sleep.

You journeyed to the Highlands the next morning, riding behind Chan on horseback, leaving the Wolves’ imposing Castle behind. There was a lightness about you as distance added more miles to your ride, growing brighter and brighter the further you traveled. Even with light conversation petering between you and Chan, you had never been freer in your entire life, the wind blowing back your hair as you soared across the plains.

Despite his repeated requests for you to take a break, you were determined to make it to your sister’s palace before nightfall. You wanted to see her outside, in the meadows that spread invitingly across the Highlands, and walk together just the two of you as you did as children.

There was excitement spiking hot adrenaline in your veins when the hills opened up in the distance, revealing a gorgeous mountain Castle with imposing towers and the familiar flags of your sister’s powerful family. She belonged to Hyunjin, taking his name and crest, and it made you sad to realize that there was a greater distance between you both. You loosened your grip on Chan’s waist, not realizing your grip on him.

You had grown tired of being around him, constantly blinded by the weight of his shadow. At least out here, with the sun beaming down from above, you could feel great relief from the pressure lightening. Perhaps there should be shame associated with your actions, but as soon as you could identify a familiar shape up ahead, you were already leaping from the horse despite Chan’s protests.

Thankfully, your sister was there to greet you, surrounded by two guards. Immediately, you jumped from your steed, falling into her arms and inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. “Grace,” you squealed, keeping her held tight to you as if it would be the last time you could ever do so.

“Y/N,” she sing-songed back, and you smiled at her playful attitude, only growing a little despondent when you detected Chan’s approach from behind.

“Hello,” she greeted Chan with a polite bow. “It is an honor to welcome you to the Northern Highlands.”

“Your palace is beautiful,” Chan complimented, and you shivered when he drew fingers down the length of your spine—a show of affection that you would never get used to experiencing.

“Thank you,” she said, turning around to gaze back at it as if she were seeing it for the first time. “It has centuries of history.”

“I have heard the tales,” Chan remarked. “From when I was a boy.”

You tried not to snort, not wanting to relive any memories of Chan from his boyhood. Grace’s careful eyes, however, seemed to detect something, and she looked at you with a curious gaze. “Well, I can show you to your quarters.”

“No need, I’m sure one of your guards will know the way. I think Y/N has been waiting for some time with you. I’ll leave you both alone,” he said, even without your prompting, and your sister gave you a familiar smile.

“As you wish,” she said with a little curtsy, beckoning a guard forward with stern orders to help the Wolf King settle in while you and Grace took a stroll of the grounds.

You held your breath, not wanting your impatience to show as the arrangements were made. Only once Chan had started in the direction of the Castle, guards following him closely, did you exhale. Reaching for Grace’s hand, and tugging her forward.

“No need to drag me!” Grace chuckled at your actions, and she linked your arms together, steering you toward the familiar meadows.

You both settled into easy conversation as it always seemed to happen, topics flowing from one to another. There was a lot to catch up on, things left unsaid from your sad exchange of letters. Rumors swirling around the highlands, and stories from your own homeland that you consumed greedily, excited for any mention of your little Kingdom.

Even if you didn’t really belong to it anymore.

You wanted to walk forever, to keep going beyond the highlands. Escaping to a distant land with just you and Grace. A place where you could both live in peace and go about your days just chatting and reading together by the fireplace as you did when you were children.

She laughed at your complaints, forcing you to return to the Castle when the sun had started to set. Thankfully, you didn’t go all the way inside just yet, and the two of you sat down at one of the picnic tables in the gardens. As you settled next to Grace, bowing politely to the maids who brought you both a cup of tea, you frowned as you recognized Chan between the hedges, strolling along with Hyunjin, Grace’s King, down the trodden paths between the mazes.

You did your best to ignore him, focusing instead on the moment you had with your sister. The setting sun was warm as you reclined your head, eyes closed as you accepted the gracious touch—burning just as hot as your sister’s intense stare.

“Do you have something to say?” you huffed. “I can feel you looking at me.”

Her smile was clear in her tone. “You just seem...different.”

“How so?”

“Like you’ve been tamed.”

Your eyes flew open at the comment, glaring at her. “Stuck in an arranged marriage, you mean?”

“Mine was arranged as well, but you can rest assured that I don’t take the same comfort from my particular suitor.”

“I hardly take comfort from the Wolf King,” you argued, but Grace simply shrugged.

“You’ve never seen things as I do.”

“What’s so bad about Hyunjin anyway?” you asked instead, to direct the conversation away from Chan,

Her smile curdled. “He keeps busy with his whores,” she said, shocking you with such an accusation.

“Grace-”

“Don’t.” Your sister sighed. “There’s nothing you can do.”

She attempted to restore her previous smile, looking back over your shoulder with a sigh. “I like your Wolf King,” she eventually said. “He cares about you a lot. I haven’t seen him take his eyes away from you once.”

Grace must be imagining things. “He’s tolerable at best,” you decided, earning yourself a sigh from your sister.

“My how your perspective has changed,” she remarked, finally turning her attention to the lukewarm tea in front of her. “You were kicking and screaming when you first learned of the marriage.”

“It is something that was forced on me!”

“But you’re not the only one, Y/N,” Grace said with a tone filled with sadness.

Suddenly, you felt chastened and guilty for even protesting her. “For us both, it has created nothing but discomfort.”

“I think there is potential in your match,” Grace argued. “You resist because you are stubborn in nature, but I think there could be good things for you if you just tried to make it work. Wouldn’t it be better, sister, to live with him as lovers than as cold strangers?”

“He is too wild for marriage,” you weakly protested. But your argument held no merit, and you hated the logic in her words, turning away to glare into the distance.

Night passed before your eyes, like the dimmest flicker, and you had never been more unhappy to greet the rising sun.

It seemed that all good things inevitably came to an end, and you were holding back tears when you parted from Grace the next morning, holding the embrace for far too long. Even as you allowed Chan to help you back onto the horse, positioned directly behind him on the saddle, you kept your gaze trained behind you, watching Grace grow smaller and smaller.

Until she was gone.

Your heart was heavy when you returned to Chan’s castle that same afternoon, but your foul mood didn’t last for long. Distracted as you were, surprised by the bustling activities throughout the grounds, everyone scrambling for something you couldn’t identify. “Our moon festival,” Chan explained. “We will be shifting tonight.”

Oh, right. You had forgotten about that part, too distraught reminiscing on your brief moment of freedom with Grace. “I almost forgot.”

“There will be a feast tonight,” he explained. “We will both join as King and Queen.”

You scowled at the idea. “As you wish.”

Chan frowned at the comment. “You must be tired from the journey,” he continued, choosing not to react to your passive comment. “Feel free to rest in our quarters. I will come get you later.”

You agreed with a half-hearted grunt of acknowledgment. Sleep did sound like a much-needed relief from the exhaustion threatening each unsteady step you took up the stairs. It was what you blamed your disorientation on, barely noticing when Chan leaned in to give you a chaste kiss on your cheek.

That same spot burned under the barely-there attention. But you chose to ignore it, instead focusing on how your feet were throbbing when you landed on top of your bed with a huff, allowing tears to escape as you gave yourself a moment to purge the nasty emotions that had built after leaving the Highlands. Unable to do so as you rode behind Chan.

There were too many different emotions piled on throughout the day, mixing with a heady combination of your exhaustion from traveling. Countless thoughts also swirled through your head, and it was inevitable that you would fall under, losing yourself to the easy promise of sleep. An easier task than grappling with your conflicted feelings.

Darkness greeted you like an old friend, and your dreams were wild. One moment you were back with Grace, strolling through the meadows. The next, you found yourself in an empty forest, shadows chasing each breath evaporating on cold air, ensnared by a pair of red eyes in the thick foliage.

You stumbled on the undergrowth, falling backward ungracefully. You only had the wherewithal to put a hand over your face, trying to block everything out, as those eyes descended on you. Fear caught in your throat, and it was the lasting image that haunted you as you jerked upright in bed, barely withholding a scream when those same eyes met you in the real world.

“Y/N.”

Chan’s voice was deep, guttural in its intensity, and filled with concern. You flinched when fingers came out to gently remove sweaty bangs from your eyes, heart thunderous inside your chest. His hand paused in its motions, and for a fleeting second, you thought you might drown in his stare.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Bad dreams.”

“I see.”

There was a question in his tone, but you didn’t know how to provide an answer, choosing instead to gently push his hand away. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

He nodded, lower lip caught between his teeth. “If you’re certain...”

You studied him for a moment, wishing that you could confide in him. But there was still a great distance between you, perhaps put there by your own accord, but heavy in its existence. “I shall get ready.”

Chan allowed you the space, agreeing to meet you in the hallway as you rose to get dressed, finding the dress that had been laid out for you by the maids. You slipped the fabric over your body, shivering as the silkiness slid across your skin like a lover’s caress.

True to his word, Chan was waiting patiently on the other side of the door, and you hesitated before taking the outstretched hand offered to you. Unprepared for when it pulled you in closer, under the scrutiny of his affectionate gaze. “Beautiful,” he declared, nostrils flaring as if taking in the scent of the perfume you sprayed.

“Thank you,” you offered in return, choosing to keep silent as he led the way, helping you down the stairs in your heels.

For once, you willingly stayed close to Chan, especially as you approached the Great Hall where the festivities would take place. Chan led you into the dining room, perhaps a bit too hastily, uneasy with the weight of his people’s stares boring down upon your figure. Dressed simply in that white gown—pure, as you had always remained—and looking entirely out of place amongst battle-hardened soldiers.

You caught Changbin’s stare from across the room as you sat at the head of the table next to the King. There was lust in his gaze. And it deeply unsettled you, to the point that even Chan caught your shiver.

He followed your gaze to Changbin who looked away at once. “Tradition says that the King can share his mate,” Chan whispered. “But I will not share you with him. So he can only look.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything in return. “I didn’t know.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Chan stood, addressing the room. “Let’s feast together, comrades! We run together at the moon’s highest cycle!”

A chorus of cheers and howls greeted his words, and everyone started to fill their plates, easy conversation flowing between the wolves like the smell of the delicious-looking platters laid out before you. Still, your stomach revolted, swimming in circles as you picked at the helping Chan had served you. You wrinkled your nose when his grease-stained fingers brought a piece of chicken to your lips, and you forced yourself to take it from him.

Chan sighed as you chewed, forcing the morsel down your throat as it stung. “I won’t be with you tonight, of course. We will likely stay out in the moonlight until dawn. But I will return in the morning.”

“Okay.” You shrugged, seemingly indifferent. Some time to yourself seemed nice. And you weren’t keen on being outside when they were no longer human.

“You don’t have to be miserable here, my Queen,” Chan suddenly said, tone taking on a hardened edge. Perhaps the first time he had ever sounded stern with you. “Wolves mate for life, and they choose their partners seriously”

You contemplated his words, chosen ever so carefully. “I - I will try,” you managed, recalling Grace’s advice from the previous day.

To live as lovers rather than strangers.

He hummed at your agreement, eyes glued to your form as he appraised you with something akin to curiosity. “Don’t roam so far from the castle tonight. It isn’t dangerous, but it is your first time. Of course, there’s usually nothing to fear in the gardens.”

There was a layered hint in his words, but you chose not to think about it too much, simply nodding your head as you resumed your task of picking at your food. There was nothing wrong with the offering in front of you, but your newfound uneasiness mixed with your emotional charge from earlier—it had not yet completely dispelled itself from your system—left an unpleasant ache in your chest.

As if something was missing…

Later that night, long after the wolves left the castle, you realized you couldn’t sleep even if you tried, listening to the chorus of howls from outside the castle walls. They rang through the night, loud and clear, and harmonized with one another as if perfectly in sync. Perhaps they were since Chan and his wolves shared a tight bond, and you wondered what it must be like to be so perfectly in tune with one another.

It was these thoughts that plagued you, and even as midnight came and went, you grew more restless. You resolved to walk through the castle, to quell your thoughts and ease your mind. Even as your footsteps echoed through the halls, you found yourself becoming more awake instead of the opposite effect.

Fresh air would be nice, you thought until you remembered the wolves outside. But then again, Chan did promise you that the gardens would be safe. You could trust him, right? Or was that the problem? Your lack of trust in someone meant to be your partner.

You resolved yourself in that moment to try. And if that meant venturing out into the gardens, then no one could accuse you of being silent and passive. This was your attempt at trying, and if it ended badly, then you would have all the more leverage to ignore him.

However, despite your attempts to steel your resolve, you found your heart beating impossibly fast when you greeted the moonlight outside. Each lungful of air that you forced down your lungs felt like sharp knives attacking your flesh. Gaze swimming in front of you, footsteps unsteady as you entered the hedge maze surrounding the gardens.

You inhaled deeply, trying to find comfort in the familiar smell of the foliage. There was a strange air of peace surrounding you, and that was all the solace you needed to keep going, admiring the way the colors of the blooming flowers bled in a different light. It was easy to grow distracted by the sight, as beautiful as it was, and perhaps you could blame your wandering eye for failing to adequately identify the rustling of something large in the undergrowth of the forest.

You hummed to yourself, leaning down to run your fingers over the soft petals of a rose. Its usual red was subdued somehow, under the moon’s glow, and you smiled at the effect, completely ignorant of a different red seeping through the hedges near your right.

It wasn’t until a gentle whimper sounded that you jerked to a stop, hand fluttering to cover your chest as you whipped around to locate the source of the sound. And what stood before you, as powerful as the looming mountains above the castle, nearly had you falling to your knees.

Except, you realized upon a second cursory glance, that there was something uncannily familiar about the beast in front of you, and it only took you another moment to make the connection. A gasp fell from your lips when you realized that it was the wolf from your childhood—the one you had found that day Chan visited your home for the second time. The one you played with in the gardens. The one you spent time with just talking and believing it was nothing more than a common wolf.

You stumbled then, recognizing the now familiar crimson eyes looking back at you—the same ones that belonged to your husband. The wolf, your Wolf King, butted his giant head against your outstretched hand, giving an affectionate lick to your fingertips.

“I understand,” you whispered, unable to decipher the emotion in your voice, but one thing that you knew for certain—there was a clear absence of fear. Because you had never feared this wolf, always approaching it with happiness, completely ignorant of its true state.

The wolf gave you a meaningful look, and you were struck by the humanness of the gesture. Understanding dawned on you—Chan had always known. He had always known it was you—the one his wolf had chosen. The girl who had never shown fear to a beast that others considered a monster.

You had known Chan for your entire life without even realizing it, and your eyes welled with tears, watching him toss back his head and release a spine-curdling howl. One that was joined by a chorus of beautiful melodic cries, merging and joining together, and reaching down to your very bones.

You dropped to your knees then—a mere speck before the Wolf. You cried without fear, and this time, the tension between you and your King vanished like the stars in the night sky when dawn cracked across the horizon.

Three Months Later

On most mornings, Chan was gone before you woke up, and that left you with a disconcerting feeling of disappointment. You supposed there was much to do for the King of the Castle, but lately, it made you ache for something you couldn’t quite discern.

For the past several months, you found yourself opening up to the Wolf King in ways you would’ve never imagined. The truth of who he was, the Wolf from your childhood, along with Grace’s well-intentioned advice, had managed to crack through the stoic guard you had raised from the moment you bound yourself to him.

He taught you about the bond—how, even if you weren’t a Wolf and couldn’t experience the same emotions, he could feel each flicker of happiness or stroke of sadness as it moved through you.

You had not known of this connection before—because of your stubborn nature—and you would always regret resisting it. But things were better, and you could see the beauty in the bond and how truly spectacular it was to feel and understand another person so intimately. It made you wonder—for longer and longer periods of time—just how deep you could make that bond.

Curiosity weighed heavy on you, and your eyes cracked open at a gentle knocking on the door—an opportunity presenting itself when you recognized a familiar servant girl entering your room. “Good morning, Y/N,” she said, and you nodded in return.

At first, you had kept yourself closed off to the other maids, but this one in particular, Ivy, had been insistent. It was hard to deny her, especially when she became your best teacher, indulging you in learning everything related to the wolves and their way of life.

She was also quite willing and open to help you with anything, even if it involved the more intimate parts of your relationship with the Wolf King. You brought it up again that morning, growing more and more confident, especially since Ivy was completely shameless when it came to that sort of thing.

“I thought about your words from the other night,” you opened the conversation, watching as she put your breakfast down onto the table.

“You’ll have to remind me.” There was a teasing note in her tone, and you glowered at the playful look she shot in your direction.

“We spoke about the King,” you said. “You told me things…what I can do to please him.”

“I remember.” She took a step closer, and you were wary of the look in her eyes. “Does he not fuck you well?” Ivy asked, and her tone was absent of the same filter that would stop your tongue.

Still, you were embarrassed, looking down at your feet, wondering how to disguise the truth. “It doesn’t feel good when it seems like he just uses me to get himself off.”

That much was true as you had heard Chan masturbating next to you on countless nights, and your name often fell free from his lips.

“I see.” Ivy nodded. “He doesn’t know better. He was taught that a good alpha fucks his mate and makes sure that she is pregnant for him.”

You winced at her blunt explanation. “Is that all...wolves need?”

“Not necessarily,” Ivy said with a bright smile. “I can teach you...if you want.”

“Teach me?” you asked, gasping when Ivy placed a hand on your chest, forcing you to fall back on the bed.

She was all smiles when she crawled into your lap, grabbing your hands and securing them to her waist. You gasped when she started rocking her hips into your own, feeling the pleasant ache resonate up and down your spine. “The most important lesson of them all,” Ivy said with a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “The art of seduction.”

“I - Ivy...”

“Tell me, Y/N,” Ivy interrupted your ramblings, leaning down so that the tips of your noses brushed together. “Would you like that? Seducing your wolf? Driving him to the point where he can’t resist taking you?”

You moaned around your response. “Yes! Please show me.”

Her hips rocked harder into yours, and you could see white forming at the edges of your vision. “Leave it to me.”

And you did, surrendering to her touches, and the wicked way she showed you all the ways to drive a King mad.

The following night, you bravely waited for your Wolf King to return from patrol, wearing nothing but a sheer robe that left little to the imagination. Sitting on the edge of your shared bed, you caught each breath as it rattled between your lungs. Nervousness eating away at your resolve and leaving the poor skin around your cuticles abused by your touch.

Ivy’s advice rang clear in your mind as if she were there with you, holding your hands between her own as she taught you how to please the King. You blushed at the memory, hands covering the bare skin beneath your robe, caressing the delicate flesh as she had done the night before. Demonstrating to you the best ways to please a man, and to make him beg for you.

That kind of power held its curious appeal, and you thought about it constantly. Wondering what it would be like to make Chan lose his mind to the sin of your smell and touch. You could hardly wait, bouncing your leg and jostling the flimsy material of your coverings.

Thankfully, your Wolf King didn’t make you wait for very long, punctual as always in these recent times of peace in joining you during the evenings. The easy smile he always offered you vanished as soon as he closed the door behind him, eyes locked on your figure clad in so very little.

“Be assertive.” You recalled Ivy’s words, and you stood on shaky legs to take a few tentative steps towards him. The implication was not lost in translation. You could barely get out a greeting before Chan was on you in seconds, gently pushing you back against the wall. He pressed his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, initiating the first indulgent kiss that lit a fire that you felt down to the tips of your toes.

“Then have me,” you said against the purse of his mouth, tongue tracing that full bottom lip. His gaze widened perceptibly, holding you at arm's length.

“What do you mean?”

“Take me the way you want,” you replied. “I’m ready. You love me, don’t you?”

The intensity in that gaze you had started to yearn for burned even brighter. “You know that I love you Y/N, and I understand why it would be hard for you to believe. I’m more than willing to take this chance to show you.”

He pulled away despite the tight grip you kept on his powerful bicep. Even so, you kept your eyes open as wide as possible to enjoy the scene playing out in front of you when he kissed you again. You curled your fingers into his thick black hair, remembering Ivy’s advice, and pulled his mouth against yours, crushing your lips to his. Chan’s chest rumbled as he kissed you fiercely in return, grabbing onto your arms as his tongue plundered the hot cavern of your mouth.

Your lungs screamed in protest, and you pulled away suddenly, shivering at his resounding whimper. You opened your eyes, keeping your hands in his hair to hold it back from his crimson orbs. You found the lust there, making his eyes appear darker. “It’s so hard for me to do this,” you said softly. “I- I want to please you…”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Chan replied. He pressed his hips into yours and you felt something hard against your stomach. “Y/N,” Chan murmured, leaning into your neck to inhale deeply. “I want you more than anything else.”

You shivered as you felt his other hand come to the sleeve of your gown, slowly sliding it down your shoulder. His fingertips slid across your skin, weakening your resolve. His lips followed his touch, peppering soft kisses along the exposed skin. He tugged on the fabric more and you felt the fabric at your right breast start to fall, slowly exposing the flesh to him. His blazing eyes looked down at what he had uncovered, as his hand moved up to hold your breast in his palm. You moaned when his thumb started to rub against your nipple, growing alarmed at the sudden ache between your legs. Like before, his lips soon replaced his fingers and you cried out when he gently nipped the sensitive skin.

He suddenly tugged the fabric back up, releasing your wrists so that he could have both hands when he grabbed the sides of your robe and tugged it aside to reveal your bare skin to him. Your hands fell to your sides as your chest heaved up and down to match each of your panting breaths. Clad in the lingerie Ivy had helped you pick out the previous night.

Chan’s eyes were glued to your bare torso. With a moan of his own, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he trailed his mouth down, over the soft skin of your throat, down your chest, and between the valley of your breasts, over your smooth stomach down to the top of your lace panties. Looking up at you with hungry, lust-filled eyes, Chan started to tug the fabric down your legs.

Clenching your fists against the wall, you couldn’t begin to describe what you felt when he pressed a kiss against the front of your panties, holding your thighs in his strong hands. Standing back up to his full height, he pulled his shirt off next, tossing it onto the floor. You breathed out deeply as your eyes greedily took in the sight of his muscled torso. Timidly, you reached out a hand, aware of his eyes watching your movements as you hovered your palm over his firm abdomen. “Touch him with your fingertips,” Ivy’s words whispered against your ear. He groaned, bracing his arms on either side of you, moving his head against the wall next to your ear. You heard Chan’s husky voice whisper: “Baby, please touch me.”

Your eyes fluttered at his request, and you placed both palms on his hard stomach, moving them up and feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. Your hands danced across his pectorals, rising along with the muscles. You moved your palms over his shoulders and then back down, pausing when you hit the top of his pants. Before you could muster up the courage to move any lower, Chan’s lips were back on yours, kissing you senseless. You wrapped your arms around his neck, working your mouth against his, feeling your lips become swollen from his kisses. As your tongues touched, you felt Chan’s hands return to your thighs, lifting them so that you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his trim waist. Holding you against him, he carried you into over to the bed to deposit you on top. You missed his warmth as soon as he was gone and opened your eyes to meet his black gaze.

This was your chance. You remembered Ivy’s words and scrambled to get in position. Present. The command burned its way through your whole being as if you had no control over it. Instead, you turned on your hands and knees, arching your back and keeping your ass held high in the air.

You had never done this before, and you felt so exposed, but at the same time so good, so right, and you restrained yourself from trying to cover up against the shameless crimson stare watching you.

Suddenly, all went quiet, prompting you to glance over your shoulder. The Wolf King was staring at your ass, his mouth slightly agape. “Good girl,” was all you heard before Chan dove down abruptly to taste your dripping cunt, dragging his tongue all the way up to the source of the wetness leaking from you with a single, hot swipe, before latching on and sucking eagerly at the sensitive skin around your opening.

You keened at the sensation and shivered at his satisfied grunts and moans as he took his fill of your taste. It made you want to please him. To do whatever it took to make him completely lose his mind.

“Chan!” You moaned out, reaching beneath him to flick at your neglected clit. “More!”

Your demand did not go unanswered. With a grunt, Chan yanked your ass up higher for a better angle, digging his hands into the plush flesh of your hips. His touch was rough, and strong, undoubtedly leaving marks behind, but you absolutely loved it. And when the wiggling muscle of his tongue finally pushed inside, you cried out in absolute bliss and pleasure. Time itself seemed to slow down as that tongue relentlessly moved inside you, searching for that spot that could make you see stars and, once found, pressing down hard. Again and again, Chan dipped inside with his tongue, and each time you moaned for him. It didn’t take you long until your body tensed and shuddered, squeezing around the intrusion as you rode out your orgasm.

With a satisfied groan, Chan released your hips, and you collapsed on your stomach, still aching for him.

You attempted to look back at Chan, groaning when you realized he was pushing down his pants and underwear, freeing his stiffening cock before crawling back over you. You were met with a flurry of kisses, on your lips, your cheeks, and your neck, before his tongue trailed lazily over your chest and down to the delicate curls damp from your release.

You squirmed under him as he held himself up on his arms, dragging his eyes unbearably slow from your face and down to your toes. He moved one finger down over your stomach, and you watched it enter the forest of blonde curls around your center. Panting, and nearing combustion, you found yourself instinctively thrusting your hips up, begging him for more than just touches. Growling, he practically shoved your hips back to the bed, reaching down and jerking his thick cock with rough strokes. He abruptly flipped you over onto your back, craning his neck to look down into your eyes. “Let me make love to you, Y/N.”

His words sent a flurry of heat straight to your core. You had never had sex before, but you wanted it desperately. You told him as much and could see him visibly shaking. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, kissing your lips tenderly, before reaching down to line himself up at your entrance. You closed your eyes and winced as he pushed into you. Pliant and soft from his earlier ministrations, the bulbous head found little resistance as it breached your cunt.

You could feel his face bury itself into your shoulder, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the bedding, as if it was taking everything he had to go this slow. Once he was buried inside of you completely, you groaned, adjusting to the sudden intrusion. You could feel him still above you, and his teeth teased the skin at your shoulder. “Son of a bitch,” he growled. “It’s taking every ounce of control I have not to flip you over and fuck you senseless.”

His words, as crude as they were, only served to heighten your arousal. “Move,” you said, grabbing his black hair and pulling his face to yours. You kissed him quickly. “I’m fine.”

He needed no further encouragement, as he slowly pulled out before pushing back in. You could see the sweat breaking out across his forehead from the exertion, causing strands of his hair to stick to his forehead. His right hand moved behind you to grip the headboard as his hips slowly rocked against your own. As good as it felt, you could see he was about to lose it. “Faster,” you told him, and he complied, speeding up his thrusts and allowing some of the tension to escape his body. It was a little painful, especially when he let out a low growl and really started grinding his hips.

You could feel it building inside, the pleasure of his rough movements far outweighing the discomfort. You let out another moan as he moved in and out, feeling the smooth friction all the way to the tips of your toes. The Wolf King chose this moment to draw his hips back, dragging his length out to the tip, before slamming it back inside with a powerful thrust, rocking your body to the point that you felt your vision turn white for a moment. Without giving you time to recover, Chan repeated the motion over and over again, speeding up and adjusting the angle to relentlessly hit deep inside, hips bumping your clit with every smooth grind.

He grunted from his efforts, one hand on the headboard while the other came to grab your breast, his lips sucking at your neck. For your part, you arched your back against him, allowing your hips to come up a little to meet his movements as he hit even deeper inside of you, just barely kissing your cervix. Your fingernails scraped down the smooth skin of his back at this new angle. He moaned when your nails dug into his flesh, bringing his lips up to yours and you kissed him feverishly, tasting him like your life depended on it. One of your hands curled into his smooth black hair while the other gripped his bicep tightly, sighing happily as you felt the muscles move.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to not feel overwhelmed by all of the things he was making you feel. Buried deep inside of you, you could feel him hit all the right spots, sending waves of pleasure to your tight center. Meanwhile, his lips were working magic against yours, leaving you breathless.

You could feel an intimate warmth building inside of you the longer he snapped his hips against yours. Groaning, you let out a cry as you felt something inside of you break open, releasing wave after wave of heat through your core, leaving your body drowning in pleasure.

There was a haze of lightheadedness clogging your senses, and you almost didn’t even realize the swell pushing against your ass, until it breached your core. “Chan!” you hissed at the combination of pain and overwhelming pressure, retreating and then swelling again as he ground that hot mass against you.

“My knot,” he groaned, and you could feel the heat from his chest against your breasts as he pressed even closer.

You vaguely recalled Ivy warning you about this, telling you that it would be hard to prepare for the massive instrution. You felt a spike of fear as it stretched you even further, and you worried that your virgin body would suffer. All you could do was grit your teeth and bury your head into the blankets beneath you, feeling the swell of his knot pressed against the cleft of your ass. You fisted the sheets between your hands. He would split you in half, and then you would be nothing.

“Y/N!” he growled, slowing his hips to a timid roll as his knot locked between you both, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt his release flood your insides, filling you to the point that your lower stomach had started to swell from his cum.

He groaned as you both came down from your highs, and you gently petted your finger through his unruly curls. He experimentally rolled his hips to test how firmly the knot was locking him inside and it wouldn’t budge. Your cunt squeezed the knot, eliciting another grunt from Chan, another twitch, and another spurt of hot cum inside of you.

The pop didn’t swell until Chan was fully seated, his thick cock barely able to seat itself fully between your pulsating walls. It was a painful stretch, of course, but you were hardly focused on it.

Chan continued to hump against you, long after his release and teetering on the cusp of oversensitivity, but those seductive hips had lost their rhythm. It was only moments later, as Chan pulled away from your lips and buried his face into your chest, that he growled when something warm filled your center. You let your hand wander down his spine, stroking along the individuals knots. You could feel him breathing hard above you, and you tried to soothe him back to normal.

You were locked together for a long time, and you were almost asleep when Chan was finally able to pull out, collapsing onto the mattress next to you, looking up at the ceiling. You watched as his chest rose and fell quickly until you could barely see it move at all, signifying his return from his high. Your own breaths came out much shorter, and you were aware of the sweat that coated your skin.

You watched as Chan ran his hand through his dark hair, moving it out of his face. Looking over at you, he turned on his side and used one hand to bring you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist. You hummed in delight as your chests pressed together, moving in sync with each other. Chan’s eyes scanned over your face as he leaned in and kissed your forehead. “I love you Y/N,” he said. voice rumbling. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

You were barely coherent, collapsed against the sheets with a line of drool pooling out from your mouth. Closing your eyes, you let your head fall against his chest, savoring his warmth. “I trust you,” you said softly, and you could feel him sigh in relief. Simply holding you against him, surrounded by his warmth, you suddenly felt very much like you belonged.

“You and I have always been destined,” Chan whispered, and for the first time since you had taken your place as his Wolf Queen, you weren’t afraid.

Instead, you were irrevocably alive.

#stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x you #bang chan #bang chan smut #chan smut #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #chan x female reader #chan oneshot #bang chan oneshot #chan imagines

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luvclerc · 1 year ago

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how bout a charles leclerc x kpop idol reader? where charles and the reader have been dating even before they became famous. theyve been soft-launching each other for years and years, and the fans are trying to figure it out.

ps: i imagine jennie kim as the face claim (i love her sm)

gf reveal please

summary: when fans are manifesting a relationship they don’t know already exists

pairing: charles leclerc & reader

liked by lewishamilton and 5,928,193 others

youruser happiest girl in the worlddd

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rubylove to the person that sends her blue flowers every year for her birthday, thank you <3

heartyn the way she’s always getting the same flowers every year 😭

petrolh lewis what are u doing here 👀

pink1 pretty sure they did a campaign together recently so nothing juicy from them

rosiesyn i just want to know who’s been gifting her flowers every year

liked by carlossainz16, landonorris, pierregasly and 2,928,019 others

charles_leclerc from the camera roll 📸

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lecler16 ahhh not charles in his soft launch the flowers again???!-

scuder1a going to pretend i didn’t see the last slide 🫶🏻

pierregasly 😁

amorcl ???

lestapa33n what does this mean

pinkari i want to say something but i don’t want to get ratioed on here too

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, carlossainz16, and 4,729,019 others

youruser uk recap (ps. wasn’t exactly the results we wanted but still had a good time!)

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pinkscuderia HELLO YN WAS AT SILVERSTONE AND THERE WAS NO PICTURES OF HER AT THE PADDOCK??!/!/

ynnniviee we were robbed of yn content at the race

char_les PLEASE TELL ME WE HAVE SOME CONTENT OF YN WITH THE DRIVERS scuderiaferrari

scuderiaferrari 🤭

sainzchar DOES THAT MEAN YESS???

scuderiaferrari see you again next race?

pinkari CHARLES IN THE LIKES??? ONE STEP CLOSER TO MY SHIP SAILING

lechairs but charles already has a gf…

liked by landonorris, youruser, and 2,292,019 others

charles_leclerc 9th. not the results we were expecting but thank you for the continuous support. next stop break.

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itsleclerc silverstone + strategist screwed over charles this weekend but the man still has the mood to soft launch..

clmcquen shout to to charles gf for helping him through this tough time

lechairrie one day ferrari will stop fcking up charles

ynmon would have been great if yn got to celebrate a win with ferrari :(

youruser forever proud! comment has been deleted

sainzchair ENOUGH with posting the back of her head gf reveal pls

liked by youruser, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 4,420,324 others

charles_leclerc always nice to spend the holidays with family ❤️

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itslec1erc it’s been 5 holidays gf reveal when 🥹

scuderiaferrari lovely family ❤️

carlossainz55 this a big ass tree

landonorris psa! charles gf makes more money than him

charles_leclerc as she should :)

alex_albon when i borrowed $200 from her and she didn’t ask for it back 💃🏻

ynlnlover is anymore here from yn recent post?!

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, lewishamilton and 4,593,013 others

youruser happy holidays everyone!

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ariyn the dress... the tree... the private jet

sharleclerc waittt is this the girl from charles recent post???

landonorris oop the dots are connecting

georgerussell63 did you get me a christmas gift this year??

youruser uM haha

ynhearrt NOO MOTHER FIRST DATING RUMOR 💔

plsyn f1 driver x kpop idol is the weirdest crossover i’m sorry???

liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, pierragasly, youruser and 29,210,425 others

charles_leclerc took her on a trip for our fifth anniversary ❤️

tagged: youruser

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pierregasly damn i wanted to be the one who did the reveal 💔

youruser ilyy 💞

carlossainz55 does this mean i can finally post my pictures 😭

sharlcare STOP THIS IS SO UNEXPECTED

ynmomm THE VISUALS WNSNDNSNW

scuderiaferrari parents 🫶🏻

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 12,244,091 others

youruser me and my man <3

tagged: charles_leclerc

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pinkari EVERY TONGUE THAT RISES AGAINST ME SHALL FALL

leschairs it was you and me against the world :(

charles_leclerc yn only agreed to hard launch cause she didn’t want pierre to reveal it himself 😞

pierregasly you never want to see me win :/

landonorris adopt me 🫶🏻

ynfan THE PRETTIEST COUPLE

charlyn don’t know who i want more, yn or charles 😭

carlossainz55 don’t forget about me 🥹

#charles leclerc au #charles leclerc #formula 1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smau #formula one smau #f1 instagram au #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine

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someone-will-remember-us · 1 month ago

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Four years ago, Caroline Darian thought she had a normal life. She was in her early 40s, she had a home in the Paris area, a job as a communications manager, a husband who worked for a TV breakfast show and a six-year-old son. She got on well with her parents, who had retired to the picturesque village of Mazan in Provence in the south of France, to a house with pastel-blue shutters where they would all often spend long summers together in the garden under the mulberry tree and splashing in the pool – with barbecues and music, dinner and board games on the patio and country bike rides with her dad.

Darian remembers the exact moment that this all shattered. It was 8.25pm according to the clock on her kitchen cooker, on a Monday night in November 2020. She had been working from home all day on Zoom calls. She had just put down a bag of Japanese takeaway on the kitchen counter when her mother, Gisèle Pelicot, called and told her to sit down in a quiet spot; she had something difficult to say.

Darian thought of her father’s health – he was heavy, had breathing problems, and France had been in and out of Covid lockdowns. But instead she learned that police had arrested her father, Dominique Pelicot, for secretly filming up women’s skirts in a supermarket with a hidden camera in a bag. Officers investigating his phones, computer and hard drive had found thousands of images and videos stretching over almost 10 years showing that he had drugged his wife then filmed her, unconscious, being raped in her own bed by him and dozens of strangers. There had been at least 70 men, aged from 22 to 71, and police were still trying to identify them all.

Darian didn’t understand what was being said. She felt herself lose control: shaking, shouting, screaming insults about her father, hardly able to breathe. “It was like being hit by a wave,” she says, still struggling to comprehend it four years later. “It was a cataclysm. All my foundations collapsed.”

Darian is sitting in a book-lined room, up a creaky wooden staircase in a publisher’s office on the Left Bank in Paris. The first time we speak, it is days before the verdict in what has become the biggest rape trial in French history, after her mother decided to waive her anonymity and hold the four months of hearing in public, saying “shame must change sides”. Gisèle was embraced by the world as a feminist hero for her bravery and refusal to be shamed, as the trial made global headlines and the family was thrown into the spotlight. Darian is poised and calm, although nervous about the verdict. Channelling her anger into a public campaign to raise awareness of drug-facilitated sexual violence has been a “question of survival”, she says. But on the inside, she describes herself as a “field of ruins”. The previous few nights, she began dreaming about Dominique Pelicot again.

The trial was an “ordeal”, Darian says, “really hard from a human perspective”. Dozens of accused men, now aged between 26 and 74, including a soldier, journalist and lorry drivers, had sat on benches in court, at close proximity to her and her mother. The men seemed so relaxed and “comfortable in their seats”, Darian observed. Video evidence was shown of many of them raping Gisèle in her bedroom when she was in a comatose state, lying limp and lifeless and snoring loudly, with family photos on the dresser and spotty pillowcases on the bed.

Dominique Pelicot hid prescription drugs in a tennis sock inside a hiking shoe in his garage. He crushed sleeping tablets and anti-anxiety medication into Gisèle’s mashed potato, coffee, or the raspberry ice-cream he served her in front of the TV. This would give him seven hours, he told the court, in which his wife was in a state akin to being under general anaesthetic. He would take off her pyjamas, dress her up in underwear he had bought. Then he and the other men would rape her while a camera filmed. Afterwards, Dominique Pelicot said he would wash her and dress her in her pyjamas before she would wake up, groggy but unaware, thinking the blackouts and memory lapses meant something was wrong with her brain. He contacted men online with messages such as “I’m looking for a pervert accomplice to abuse my wife who’s been put to sleep” or “You’re like me, you like rape mode.”

Days after we meet, Dominique Pelicot is sentenced to 20 years in prison and all 50 other men are found guilty of rape, attempted rape or sexual assault. At least 20 more could not be identified and are presumed to be still at large today. Most had denied the allegations, saying they had never “intended” to rape and thought it was a game by a couple of swingers in which “the wife” was pretending to be asleep. Some said that if the husband gave consent it was OK.

Darian has total admiration for her mother – “the true victim of this whole story” – for agreeing to hold the trial in public. Darian went public herself, in 2022, while the investigation was ongoing, publishing a book called I’ll Never Call Him Dad Again, which has now been translated into English for a new edition. It was a kind of diary of the first year after the revelations, illustrating how “trauma expands outwards like a shock wave” through a family.

She had grown up happily with her parents and three brothers. Her father, an electrician who had also worked as an estate agent, and mother, a logistics manager, met when they were 19 and 20 and married soon after. The family lived in a house provided by her mother’s company with five bedrooms and a walled garden in a coveted neighbourhood on the banks of the river Marne just outside Paris. Dominique Pelicot encouraged Darian’s dance lessons and would drive her to school to avoid her getting the bus. She remembered him singing Barry White songs in his Renault 25 as he drove the kids on holiday. All that was sunk for ever by the revelations. She now doesn’t even keep old photographs. “I can’t keep hold of those memories,” she says. “Sometimes they pop up, but that was a previous life; this is now.”

Campaigning “is a way for me to recover some kind of dignity”, she says, having founded a movement called Don’t Put Me Under (#MendorsPas) to raise awareness and support victims of drug-facilitated rape, pushing a new expression into the mainstream in France: “chemical submission”. Drugging most often happens in the home, enacted by family members or people you know, she says, and victims can be adults or children. Before her father’s arrest, “I didn’t have a clue about drugging or drug-assisted rape. I knew about GHB, the date rape drug, in nightclubs and bars, but I didn’t know it was so much more widespread and mostly happened using the contents of the family medicine cabinet.” She wants better training for health professionals and police, and better access to toxicological testing for victims.

She would also like more respect for rape victims in court. She watched in horror when even her mother, a grandmother, who had been drugged into a coma with no recollection of the assaults, was questioned by defence lawyers about whether she might have led the men on.

“I’m really proud of my mum,” Darian says with determination. “She has opened the door. She has led the way for other victims of sexual violence. She’s told them they’re not alone any more. That is strength. So to me she’s a hero … And she did it brilliantly. She walked into this court every single day with hundreds of journalists, being scrutinised by everyone, being humiliated by all these [defence] lawyers. Frankly, you have be strong to do that … She’s an independent and strong woman. And she did it with dignity.”

She describes her mother as having the calm of a “medieval queen” presiding over ruins – a resilience she says Gisèle has had since losing her own mother to cancer aged nine.

Darian, 45, attended the trial with her brothers, David, 50, a sales manager, and Florian, 38, an actor. (She uses the pseudonym Darian because it is a composite of her brothers’ names, in honour of their support, but has taken her husband’s surname). She was a striking figure in the courtroom, head held high, arms folded, sitting metres away from the accused men – many of whom were around her own age – and visibly staring them all in the eye. What did she feel? “I felt anger. They’re cowards.” She said the men stared right back at her: “I was looked at like a sex object during this trial by many of them.” While reporting the trial, I saw Darian’s appearances shift the mood in the courtroom. She was unflinching about the unbearable emotional toll – “How are you supposed to rebuild yourself from the ruins when you know your father is the worst sexual predator of the past 20 years?” she asked the head judge. She was not afraid to regularly shout across the courtroom, “You’re lying!” to the man she no longer called her father, or get up and walk out. At one point, when her father was speaking about her, she retorted: “I want to throw up.”

Within the first days of the trial, it became clear that Dominique Pelicot was reserving perhaps his most twisted evasions for his daughter, refusing to explain what he had done to her and appearing to change his story several times.

What had emerged in the four-year investigation of Dominique Pelicot’s crimes was that no woman in his family was safe. He had hidden cameras in bathrooms and bedrooms at his home and in relatives’ homes, secretly photographing his sons’ wives naked and sharing the pictures and photomontages online, boasting that he was “surrounded by sluts”. He hid cameras in the guest bedroom in Mazan to secretly film his daughter naked and make photomontages of both her and Gisèle naked, comparing their bodies under the title “The slut’s daughter”, which he shared online alongside obscene commentary.

On his computer equipment, police had found a deleted folder called “my daughter naked” and recovered two pictures of Darian, then aged roughly in her 30s, taken at different times, asleep on her side in the foetal position, wearing beige underwear with the duvet pulled back. When police first showed her those pictures, she initially didn’t recognise herself. The lights were on, and she was a light sleeper who would have woken up. She never slept in that position, or went to bed dressed like that, and the underwear she was wearing definitely wasn’t her own. She said in court she was certain she had been drugged, and also probably raped and abused by Dominique Pelicot. “It’s not a hypothesis; it’s reality, I know it,” she told the judges. She said the difference between her and Gisèle Pelicot was that her mother – most unusually in a rape case – had the confirmation of thousands of files of video evidence. Darian, without video evidence, felt, she said, more like the remaining 99% of women who allege drugging, unable to ever know the truth, locked into “doubt and silence”.

In her final appearance in court, Darian said: “I’m a forgotten victim in this case.” Turning to her father, she added: “I know you abused me. You don’t have the courage to tell me.” She, her brothers, her lawyer and even Dominique Pelicot’s own lawyer beseeched him in court to speak honestly about what he had done. Despite the photos, he said he had never touched his daughter and didn’t know who had taken them. One court psychiatrist suggested that for a victim like Darian to go through life not knowing was “mental torture”.

When she walked into that courtroom at the start of the trial, was she convinced he would tell her what happened? “There was a small part of me that was hoping,” she says. “I was really determined to make him recognise the facts. And I failed.”

She pauses and the word hangs in the air. Did she think it was her responsibility to make him speak? “You know I’m always reflecting on that, because I was tough and I asked him in a violent way. Maybe if I had been in a more emotional dimension, he would have told the truth. Anyway, it’s a fail for me.”

She says: “The only victim who knows – and not even the entire truth – is my mum. But even for my mum, he didn’t tell the whole truth or the full story. Even today, we don’t know how many men came to abuse my mother, and when it started. We still don’t know.”

Darian’s brothers, in court beside her, described the whole family’s “devastation”. Her husband, Pierre, a TV journalist, who she says has been a crucial support, also took the stand. He said the discovery on Pelicot’s computer of pictures of Darian apparently asleep in underwear that wasn’t her own “added horror to the horror”. He told the judges it wasn’t a question of “whether she was drugged, but why she was drugged”.

For Darian, the case has robbed her of one of the most basic necessities of life: sleep. How do you doze off at night when you fear you might have been abused in your sleep, when you are terrified you might lose control and become someone’s prey? When she first found out about the allegations, she didn’t sleep for five nights straight. She ended up needing medical help and was admitted to an emergency psychiatric ward where – terrifyingly for her – staff tried to sedate her. Yet the whole issue of sedation “was, you know the reason we were in this nightmare”. This hospital approach was “absolutely not what I needed”, she says. Her body and brain resisted drugs, “so they had to use this massive dose … it was really experimental”. This is now part of her campaign for better support of victims. She has tried to be honest in public about her vulnerability as a survivor, and not look like what she calls a “pseudo wonder woman”. She announced halfway through the trial that she would go into a clinic for a few days to try to recover after “weeks of repeated insomnia”.

Her view of herself has been shaken by the case. Her past has dissolved and weakened her foundations, she says. “I lost a part of me, I lost a part of my identity.” She carries what she calls the “crushing double burden” of being the child of the victim and the perpetrator. “You can’t imagine the sadness and the loneliness,” she says. “I’ve got a part of his DNA. And it’s difficult to be the daughter of the biggest sexual criminal for the past 10, 20, even 30 years, and at the same time be the daughter of an icon like my mum … I don’t know if it’s better to be the daughter of Gisèle or worse to be the daughter of Dominique Pelicot. I’ll have to live with that.”

Back in November 2020, the day after Gisèle broke the news to her children, Darian and her brothers took the train south to the house in Mazan, with its sunny back garden, synonymous with holidays. It was now quite terrifying and they feared all these men would come back at night. Dominique Pelicot had been taken into police custody and would await trial in prison. The children wanted to clear the house and get their mother out in a matter of days – they started selling furniture, emptying drawers, which they found full of debt notices incurred by their father. Darian smashed one of his amateur paintings (a nude). Gisèle left with two suitcases and her dog. Nearly 50 years of marriage had vanished, and she soon filed for divorce.

At that time, Darian was running over in her head odd things that had happened, signs she felt she had missed. She and her brothers, as well as Gisèle herself, had worried she had Alzheimer’s; they had booked neurologists and scans, but the tests always came back normal. Fearful, Gisèle had stopped driving; pinched herself when she took the train to Paris, worried she’d miss her stop; and was convinced she would be diagnosed with a brain tumour. “She was having a lot of blackouts,” Darian says. “She would sometimes seem incoherent on the phone.” Once, Darian’s son called his grandmother to tell her about his rugby tournament, and she started repeating herself nonsensically. Darian took the phone from him and asked: “Mum, what day is it?” Gisèle couldn’t reply.

Another time, Florian and his family had sat down to eat dinner in Mazan after Dominique Pelicot had served his wife a glass of rosé. Her elbow slid off the table and she nearly fell off her chair, seeming to collapse like a rag doll, glazing over, appearing hypnotised. Dominique Pelicot said her family were tiring her out.

Looking back, Darian says, these blackouts always happened in Mazan when Gisèle was with her husband, never when she was in the Paris area with her grandchildren. There were gynaecological problems, too – Gisèle was bleeding despite being post-menopause. A doctor diagnosed an inflammation of the uterus.

Does Darian still feel, as she wrote in her book, that “ignorance is culpable”; that she should somehow have noticed what was going on, despite the extent of her father’s manipulation? “No. Today, I think it wasn’t possible for me to have known. Because everything was premeditated, organised. We are all victims in this family – all collateral victims: my brothers and I, but also our children.”

Video evidence showed that Dominique Pelicot not only invited men to rape his wife in the couple’s marital bed in Mazan. He had also invited men to Darian’s home outside Paris. Just after Christmas in 2019, when Darian was away on a mini-break in Morocco and her parents were house-sitting, Dominique Pelicot invited a 34-year-old warehouse worker to rape his wife in Darian’s guest bedroom. In May of the same year, while alone with Gisèle at Darian’s holiday cottage on the Île de Ré off the Atlantic coast, Dominique Pelicot invited a man to rape her in Darian’s own bed. Video evidence showed the rapes went on for more than five hours that night. Asked in court why he had chosen to do this in his daughter’s holiday home, he said: “There was no symbolism. It could have happened anywhere.”

But Darian thinks the choice of location is meaningful. She also thinks it is significant, given her questions about her father’s potential abuse of her, that the retired nightclub worker who raped Gisèle at the holiday cottage had previously been sentenced to five years in prison for raping his own 17-year-old daughter. “That detail is so difficult to cope with,” she says. “Home is supposed to be a safe place, not that kind of crime scene.” That Dominique Pelicot had raped her mother in Darian’s homes “was like being abused a second time. I was betrayed by my father in different ways.”

With Dominique Pelicot deliberately leaving what she calls a “great fog” over the question of what he may have done to her, she is left with no foothold. She had a vaginal tear that would not heal and needed several surgeries (once, while she was recovering from surgery, her father called her, asking to borrow money). Of the injury she says: “I’ll never know if it’s linked or not. It’s part of an open question – unanswered.”

She believes her father used her as a guinea pig to test out his drug cocktails – his exchanges with men show him commenting on the different effects on a woman who did or didn’t smoke. She was an occasional smoker and her mother was not. It was clear from the police investigation that Dominique Pelicot only confessed to crimes when presented with irrefutable evidence, and often partly at the start. In 2022, while awaiting trial for the rapes of his wife, Dominique Pelicot was questioned about an attempted rape of a 19-year-old estate agent in 1999. She was the same age as Darian at the time, and he had attempted to anaesthetise her with ether. Dominique Pelicot denied it until confronted with DNA evidence on the woman’s shoe. But he offered up a comparison with his daughter, saying that when he undressed the woman and realised she was the same age as her he had felt “blocked”. Instead, the woman broke free and fought him off.

Darian is unsparing in her praise for her mother, with whom she appeared hand in hand in court. But she wrote in her book and says today that, as wife and daughter, they are “in a different place within the family” and have dealt with the bombshell of Dominique Pelicot’s abuse in different ways. She says not knowing if she was drugged or abused weighs heavily on the whole family. Darian feels that without clear evidence, her mother has sought to reassure her that it may not have happened.

In court, near the end of the trial, Gisèle did not want to answer questions from defence lawyers about what Dominique Pelicot may have done to her daughter, saying it was for him to answer that. One defence lawyer suggested there was a family rift. Gisèle replied: “This isn’t a trial of the family.”

Now, Darian speculates that maybe the prospect of a daughter’s abuse is just too much horror for her mother to contemplate all at once. “She is not able, from an emotional standpoint, I think, to face the truth. I think it’s too difficult for her. And it’s hard for me – it’s really hard for me.” But the family remains close and she thinks time will change things.

The trial never fully uncovered why Dominique Pelicot did what he did – if there even was a reason. He told the court: “You aren’t born a pervert, you become one,” citing his own abuse as a child. He said he had been raped aged nine by a nurse in hospital when he was being treated for a head injury. Aged 14, as an apprentice on a building site, he said he witnessed – and was forced to take part in – a group-rape of a woman whom he described as disabled. “It was too heavy to bear,” he told the court.

“To me, it was pure manipulation,” Darian says. “He was choosing his words to make us empathise with him. And he knows exactly how it works … where to press the button.” In the high-ceilinged courtroom, where Dominique Pelicot sat on one side in a glass-fronted dock, and Gisèle on the other, Darian felt there had been an invisible “arc between my mum and dad all through this trial”, in which he was trying to communicate with his ex-wife to let himself off the hook of responsibility. “In life, you decide who you want to be,” Darian says, brushing aside any excuses about childhood. This echoes her mother’s view, expressed in court, that, regardless of their past, a person “chooses” who they become.

Darian says she won’t let Dominique Pelicot’s perversity become “this family’s curse”, that she must stop what she calls the “deviance” infecting generation after generation. (The court heard an investigation is ongoing into whether Dominique Pelicot may have abused any of his grandchildren. He denies any abuse). Darian says her father’s family line was mired in abuse – part of a “dysfunctional family system”. Denis, Dominique Pelicot’s father, whom she remembers in jeans and a biker jacket, with a single earring, had been a violent tyrant. He was a caretaker at a rehabilitation centre for convicts. The court heard that Denis was suspected of grooming and abusing a young girl with learning difficulties who was fostered by the family; Darian calls her Lucille in her book. After his wife’s death, Denis made Lucille his partner. In court, questions were raised over whether Denis also ever brought in men to abuse Lucille. Darian now questions why her parents would later send her and her brother to stay with her grandfather and his partner over the summer, until she said she no longer wanted to go.

Her own son, whom she calls Tom in the book, at first didn’t believe his grandfather could have done harm to his grandmother. “We’ve done a lot of things to protect him,” she says. “When it happened he was six. Now he’s 10. He’s had two and a half years of support from a psychologist. And today he’s in good shape. We really wanted to preserve him. But he’s known the truth right from the start. We told him with simple words that his grandfather was in jail.”

Darian, who works as a senior communications manager at a large company in Paris, says the trial has inspired her to campaign even harder in support of victims of sexual violence. Returning to normal life is key. “My son and my husband are my two pillars in life,” she says. “I’m a mum, I’m married, I’ve got a social life, friends.”

A few days later, at the verdict in the packed Avignon courthouse, she watches with quiet anger as most of the men, some silently weeping, are led away to the cells. Dominique Pelicot will likely spend the rest of his life in prison, and all the other men are convicted. As Darian leaves the court with her mother, hundreds of supporters who have travelled from across France and Europe chant, “Thank you Gisèle” and then begin shouting, “Thank you Caroline!”

We speak again the next morning. She is still feeling shaken. The prison sentences, which ranged from three to 15 years, some of which were suspended, were lower than the state prosecutor had recommended. It is a disappointment. “It’s the wrong message,” she says. “It’s not the message we wanted to send to all the other victims in France.”

This means that for her “the fight is only just beginning”. She has decided to write another book, the behind-the-scenes story of the trial. “Because it’s not what you see from watching TV. And while this trial was happening, there were so many other trials going on where the victims were all alone.”

Gisèle Pelicot, her lawyers say, now hopes to resume “as normal a life as possible”. Darian herself will rest and spend time with her son, husband and brothers, before resuming campaigning.

In the final moments in the courtroom, Darian looked only briefly at Dominique Pelicot before he was led away. “It was the very last time I’ll see him,” she says. “It’s an end point. It’s the very last chapter in what was my life before.”

It will take a while to work through.

“There’s a kind of grief,” she says. “It’s a long process, mourning someone who is still alive.”

(archive)

#radblr #radfem #radical feminism #gender critical #radical feminist #terfblr #gisele pelicot

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whencyclopedia · 15 days ago

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Geronimo

Geronimo (Goyahkla, l. c. 1829-1909) was a medicine man and war chief of the Bedonkohe tribe of the Chiricahua Apache nation, best known for his resistance against the encroachment of Mexican and Euro-American settlers and armed forces into Apache territory and as one of the last Native American leaders to surrender to the United States government.

During the Apache Wars (1849-1886), he allied with other leaders such as Cochise (l. c. 1805-1874) and Victorio (l. c. 1825-1880) in attacks on US forces after Apache lands became part of US territories following the Mexican-American War (1846-1848). Between c. 1850 and 1886, Geronimo led raids against villages, outposts, and cattle trains in northern Mexico and southwest US territories, often striking with relatively small bands of warriors against superior numbers and slipping away into the mountains and then back to his homelands in the region of modern-day Arizona and New Mexico.

He surrendered to US authorities three times, but when the terms of his surrender were not honored, he escaped the reservation and returned to launching raids on settlements. He was finally talked into surrendering for good by First Lieutenant Charles B. Gatewood (l. 1853-1896), under the command of General Nelson A. Miles (l. 1839-1925), in 1886. None of the terms stipulated by Miles were honored, but by that time, Geronimo felt he was too old and too tired to continue running. Geronimo's surrender to Gatewood is told accurately, though with some poetic license, in the Hollywood movie Geronimo: An American Legend (1993).

Geronimo was imprisoned at Fort Pickens, Pensacola, Florida, before being moved to Fort Sill, Oklahoma. Toward the end of his life, he became a sensation at the St. Louis World's Fair (1904) and President Theodore Roosevelt's Inaugural Parade (1905) as well as other events. Although one of the stipulations of his surrender was his return to his homelands in Arizona, he was held as a prisoner elsewhere for 23 years before dying in 1909 of pneumonia at Fort Sill.

Name & Youth

His Apache name was Goyahkla ("One Who Yawns"), and, according to some scholars, he acquired the name Geronimo during his campaigns against Mexican troops, who would appeal to Saint Jerome (San Jeronimo in Spanish) for assistance. This was possibly Saint Jerome Emiliani (l. 1486-1537), patron of orphans and abandoned children, not the better-known Saint Jerome of Stridon (l. c. 342-420), translator of the Bible into the Vulgate and patron of translators, scholars, and librarians.

Geronimo was born near Turkey Creek near the Gila River in the region now known as Arizona and New Mexico c. 1825. He was the fourth of eight children and had three brothers and four sisters. In his autobiography, Geronimo: The True Story of America's Most Ferocious Warrior (1906), dictated to S. M. Barrett, Geronimo described his youth:

When a child, my mother taught me the legends of our people; taught me of the sun and sky, the moon and stars, the clouds, and storms. She also taught me to kneel and pray to Usen for strength, health, wisdom, and protection. We never prayed against any person, but if we had aught against any individual, we ourselves took vengeance. We were taught that Usen does not care for the petty quarrels of men. My father had often told me of the brave deeds of our warriors, of the pleasures of the chase, and the glories of the warpath. With my brothers and sisters, I played about my father's home. Sometimes we played at hide-and-seek among the rocks and pines; sometimes we loitered in the shade of the cottonwood trees…When we were old enough to be of real service, we went to the field with our parents; not to play, but to toil.

(12)

After his father died of illness, his mother did not remarry, and Geronimo took her under his care. In 1846, when he was around 17 years old, he was admitted to the Council of Warriors, which meant he could now join in war parties and also marry. He married Alope of the Nedni-Chiricahua tribe, and they would later have three children. Geronimo set up a home for his family near his mother's teepee, and as he says, "we followed the traditions of our fathers and were happy. Three children came to us – children that played, loitered, and worked as I had done" (Barrett, 25). This happy time in Geronimo's life would not last long, however.

#History #Geronimo #Apache #ApacheWars

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shorthaltsjester · 1 year ago

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thinking about the scene between vex and percy at the end of campaign one where after over a hundred episodes of the two of them as snarky assholes (affectionate but factual) helping to fight dragons and gods, they both buckle under the weight of just. missing their families in a way that’s fresh to both of them in different ways, where percy finally has the room to admit what’s been taken from him and what he let himself lose in his commitment to vengeance (the ability to actually Grieve) and where vex just watched her brother walk into death off towards their mother. and it’s been a horrible day, and percy confesses that he was going to be a clockmaker, once.

and then, three decades later, we see the two of them elevated to a less accessible status through the eyes of bell’s hells, where they’re to be the judges whether laudna gets to come back, where The De Rolos™ are leaders and percy is a hardass and vex is a lady, except there’s an intricate clock tower in this Whitestone’s cityscape, except ashton goes to punch a statue bust and several brown bears occupy his surrounding environment. and vex sees a face not unlike her own that was killed precisely for that fact and commits to helping her and percy sees a face too much like his own and gives them a hard time until he’s standing surrounded by the crushed glass of his home and offering genuine advice about how to move forward.

and to me what was so compelling about vex and percy both as individuals and as two people who fell in love with each other was that they both had walls for different reasons that functioned in very similar ways where they didn’t have to admit the things they knew/felt were missing in themselves. but by the end of their campaign those walls aren’t gone but they have, like, doors and windows now or something. and that’s present when we see them again from the more removed view of campaign 3, percy’s harshness softens for his daughter, vex helps bell’s hells but also ensured that should laudna bring delilah back then whitestone was protected and, god!!!! they’re perfect delicious characters genuinely and the way that matt makes the duality that defines those characters (and their relationship and whitestone itself) where they are stoic and cold and harsh but they’re also warm and kind and silly. that’s narrative that’s character creation and development that’s environmental storytelling that’s to be loved (and to love) is to be changed.

sorry but tonight’s 4sd has been fantastic and the group talking about the inherent shittiness of whitestone’s geographic and historic placement and the resonance of seeing vex and percy and percy’s advice to ashton has me thinking so many thought’s because. what if whitestone was already tending towards uninhabitability and what if it got worse when the briarwoods diminished even the warmth the sun tree could provide but. what if the last son of the ruling family returned and what if he fell in love and that was enough not to cancel out the harshness of whitestone but to amend it and add something to it. something something the mistress of the grey hunt protects whitestone from the harshness of the parchwood, something something percy’s speech to vex about why he gave her the one title she’d have to earn, something something vex was already doing the work of the mistress of the grey hunt simply by caring about and standing by percy — even before it was love — in the face of orthax and the briarwoods and death blast coffins and deals with devils.

#they’re the couple of all time #environmental storytelling will always ruin me and matt pointing out that there’s a clock tower in whitestone #So Immediately after bells hells arrived. that’s love actually. that’s the proof of love in the environment of whitestone #cr3 #cr1 #percy de rolo #vex’ahlia #percy + vex #critical role

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alexanderwales · 4 months ago

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The Index

This is an index of things I've written and posted online, with minimal descriptions because most of them have blurbs if you click the link. This list is not exhaustive, especially because there are a bunch of short stories and dribbles in various places. If something you liked is missing, let me know.

Web Serials

Worth the Candle - Juniper Smith is a teenaged Dungeon Master who ends up in a world filled with all the things he dreamt up for his campaigns, along with signs of his friend who died months earlier. This Used to be About Dungeons - Five teenagers live in a house together, bake bread, tend the garden, and occasionally fight monsters in dungeons. Thresholder - Thresholders travel from world to world, fantasy one minute and scifi the next, always encountering an opponent, growing stronger as they battle. Shadows of the Limelight - Fame gives you superpowers, and Dominic just saved the world's greatest hero from defeat in full view of a large audience. Glimwarden (unfinished) - A small town huddles around lanterns that keep the darklings at bay. Four teenagers must grow in power as the darkness encroaches. The Dark Wizard of Donkerk (unedited) - Two men steal a baby from an orphanage, then find out he's too cute to sacrifice and raise him as their own.

Fanfic

The Metropolitan Man (Superman) - Lex Luthor attempts to unravel the secrets of the alien. A Common Sense Guide to Doing the Most Good (Superman) - Superman gets really into effective altruism. Instruments of Destruction (Star Wars) - A fable of project management aboard the second Death Star, through the eyes of Admiral Tian Jerjerrod. Branches on the Tree of Time (Terminator) - Sarah Connor is working as a software engineer at UCLA when a naked man shows up on her doorstep. A Bluer Shade of White (Frozen) - Elsa can make life, and Olaf is smarter than he looks.

Shorts

Eager Readers in Your Area - Artificial intelligence has left authors scrambling for readers. Charlotte clicks on an ad. Variations - An orc visits an art exhibition where she feels out of place. Contratto - Julia takes a job as a marketer, working for the vampires to keep their secrets safe. The Randi Prize - James Randi offers a prize for anyone who can demonstrate supernatural abilities. Coming Home - After a long time isekaied to a fantasy kingdom, an errant father has coffee with his estranged son.

I also post short stuff to this very tumblr, which can usually be found under the #microfiction tag unless I forget. Usually this is mirrored on AO3, unless I'm lazy.

Web Comics

Millennial Scarlet - Lamont Pearce is a gig economy demon hunter whose mother ran a government agency meant to defend against Hell. Worth the Candle - A webcomic adaptation of the web serial

Non-Fiction

The AI Art Apocalypse - Slightly outdated thoughts from 2022. Why to Write a Sex Scene - Observations on the narrative purpose of carnal pursuits. Game Review: Underhill - This review contains no screenshots, because this game does not exist. Writing: An FAQ - Accumulated wisdom from 4 million words and counting. Creating Interesting Magic - A much-requested post on making interesting magic systems (and characters, and plots, and worlds). How to Write a Web Serial - It's both easier and harder than you think. The Trouble with Writing Nazis - On giving villains too much credit. Interesting Things to do with Time Loops - Exploring the boundaries of the conceit.

#fiction #worth the candle #thresholder #this used to be about dungeons #the metropolitan man

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batnip · 10 months ago

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Reversed Karma AU

A Rainworld Alternate Universe.

...

The.. triple affirmative has been found- the affirmative that a ..solution has been found, the affirmative that the..solution is portable, and the affirmative that technical implementation is possible and generally applicable.

I remember that cycle... ancients swarmed the stuff, only privilege given to the founder, Sliver of Straw, was leaving us first.

And then cycle by cycle, our parents left..

Spoilered for absurd about of text, and general spoilers.

Saint never wanted to ascend anything. And by the time every last ancient was dead and gone, cycles passed, and structures fell. The green fuzzy thing was not once fuzzy, growing a coat as the rain sent by iterators stopped.

- - So it trailed along, guilty for what was not its fault, bringing iterators to life again. With a new name, [Pilgrim].

-- Footnote : Karma needs are reversed with the Pilgrim. Dying will up their karma, surviving will lower it. Secret passages will be added to cross gates you cannot with low karma, as it is needed to progress. =======================================

Rivulet is an odd case. I wanted them to obviously give rarefaction cells, as they did to Moon originally. So the tale goes they were created by a rebellious, younger Ancient who was fond of life and the cycle. One who refused the common ideals.

-- The swift little mouse they created, was given their own ability to create low-density rarefaction cells (singularity bombs) and refine them into more high-quality cells which the Ancient learned themself.

-- As soon as the news was spread to the general public of the triple affirmative, they sent the [Technician] out into the world, wearing several pearls describing their mission. ===========

Monk and Survivor lived with their colony, and were sent to scout a new home for the colony by the [Mapmaker]. They are named [Guard] and [Scout] in Reversed Karma. They brought Scout's two slugpups with them, even if the journey was dangerous, finding a new home for Scout pups was important to both Scout and their Sibling.

-- They find the tree in journey's end, Guard staying with the pups there as Scout tells the rest of the colony, including the leader, Mapmaker.

-- Footnote: Monk still brings Moon her cloak and several pearls. =========================================

The [Mapmaker] replaces Gourmand in Reversed Karma, making a map for their colony to follow. They are the leader of their colony.

-- Very similar to vanilla, leaving current living to the tree, showing the colony to the new home.

-- Footnote : Rain is beginning to return to normal, without cold mechanic. =====================================

The [Traveler] replaces Hunter in Reversed Karma, created by Five Pebbles to check on the local group. They spawn in the grounds of Unparralled Innocence. They do not have the Rot due to Five Pebbles more careful creation of a purposed organism compared to No Significant Harrassment.

-- Footnote : Cold mechanics are in work in these areas, as UI and CW were revived later than LTTM and FP.

-- Footnote : You may optionally visit Chasing Wind. ==========

The [Mother] replaces Artificer in Reversed Karma. Their slugpups are both alive, with the same explosive quality. They give Pebbles back his cloak and become a citizen after Sofanthiel locks onto them.

-- Footnote : Mother has bad reputation with scavengers due to passing tolls without payment before the campaign. They get a backspear due to one less hand slot having two pups.

-- Footnote : Rain has returned to normal.

-- Footnote : Mother has reduced food needs compared to vanilla Artificer due to needing to feed their pups. ===============

The [Messenger] replaces Spearmaster in Reversed Karma. They were created by Seven Red Suns to send messages between them and their friends, similar to [Traveler]'s check-ins with other iterators.

-- Footnote : Messenger has a mouth, and cannot duel wield spears.

================================================

A note from the OP: I hope you like them.. I've been wanting to show them off for a while. One of my headcannons for iterators was that the natural urges are coded into them with anti-ascension stuff. Like. Make ascension for us, but not for you. This is why they were wildly unsuccessful in finding the triple affirmative. Also.. Tumblr nuked quality of my image :c If u read all this and liked it perhaps a rb?? also hehe funny number thank u all

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ana-bananya · 5 months ago

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Help Seme support her family in Dubai

Current progress: $25,105 CAD/$27,000 CAD

This campaign was previously shared by Sara (@/bsonblast). It is also linked in her link tree.

Thanks to everyone's support, Seme was able to reach $25k! The funds helped cover her brother's evacuation, her father's medication, and some living expenses for her family who are now living in Dubai. However, her family are still struggling to find jobs and are having to rely on Seme for support. As a single mother, Seme is unable to support both her family at home and the her family in Dubai on her income alone. For this reason, she's made the decision to increase the goal to $27k to help her family afford living epenses.

The support Seme received during the final stages of her campaign was wonderful to see and I hope this post will help reignite that momentum so she can continue to help her family. If you're able to donate, please offer your support by contributing. If you can't donate, then please share her campaign so it can reach others who can. Thank you!

Tagging for reach

@marigoldcanaries

#sudan #sudan crisis #free sudan #sudan genocide #eyes on sudan #keep eyes on sudan

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painted-flag · 27 days ago

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TENDER, part 1/3 - Marcus Acacius

₊˚⊹♡ your father leaves on a campaign to germania, entrusting you under the care of his good friend marcus acacius. ₊˚⊹ marcus acacius x fem!reader ₊˚⊹ warnings: age gap and future descriptions of smut. ₊˚⊹ part one | part two | part three | ₊˚⊹ masterlist.

The cool night breeze brushed over your exposed skin as you stood leaning against the stone railing of a balcony in your estate. Though the night was peaceful, the insistent chatter of courtesans, senators, and high-ranking military officials underscored by the musical ensemble performing cut clean through the balcony doors.

This was supposed to be your moment of respite, but even being outside could not free you from the stifling conditions inside. This was your home, yet you felt a stranger in it. Your father had hosted this celebration in dedication to his upcoming campaign in Germania. It was not unusual for him to go out and fight in some distant land, but it was the first time he was leaving after your mother’s death for a significant period. Weeks you could cope with, but months?

This time was the last moment your father would have in the capital for the better part of a year. Because of that, he had spent the majority of the night carting you around the party to eligible men in an effort to find you a husband before he left. It was not meant to be purposefully pressuring and you knew that, he only wanted what he believed was best for you.

You did not wish to marry any of them. They were not in your taste, but your father did not see that.

As you gazed wistfully into the night, the balcony door opened and the noises from inside got louder before it closed.

A soft voice edged with a deep timbre shook your bones. “Forgive me, my lady. I did not know this place was occupied.”

You turned around to see a man standing behind you. For a moment, you were stunned. He was older, though your father still beat him by a few years. His skin was tanned and his stature was strong. There was a leanness to his muscle that was not as ostentatious as many of the men in Rome tended to be. Despite that, you could tell by the way he carried himself that he was deadly if need be. You grew up around soldiers, you could recognize one when you saw them; they often never left the battlefield but continued to foster it in their minds.

His hair was dark like the bark on dark oak trees, yet strong in colour. Though there were yet to be any silver strands in the thick volume of his hair, she could tell by the aged lines on his face that they were only a few years away from growing out. It sent a stirring in her stomach to imagine the silver patches in his hair and beard. Looking at his jawline, it seemed to be even more defined by the hair there. He was dressed in fine clothes like all the other attendants, but there was something about his form that screamed to a more humble nature.

What startled you the most were the browns of his eyes that looked like bark on the trees in summer – dark but covered in a golden light that exuded nothing but warmth. They were captivating, he was captivating.

“You are not disturbing me. Please, stay if you wish.” You spoke. There was a part of you that wished he would stay so you could talk to him for a moment.

He paused for a moment and looked back at the balcony doors. With his head turned you could survey more of him and notice the hidden strength in his arms while you marvelled at the veins under his skin. When he turned back to you, your head came up as if you were not staring. If he noticed, he made no mention of it.

“I could stay for a while,” The man moved to stand beside you and looked out at the darkening grounds below. “Forgive me if this is forward, but you do not seem to be enjoying yourself.” You could easily tell he was good at reading people, though you still had yet to receive his name.

“You are sound in your observation. If I have to dance with one more eligible man in that room I should fling myself off of this balcony.” You said. He laughed at your words, catching on to the slight lilt in your teasing tone.

“Surely, a beautiful lady such as yourself would be drinking in the attention?” He asked. You tried to pretend his words did not affect you as much as they did.

It was your turn to laugh and you turned to lean on your side against the stone railing and face him. He was already facing you with those piercing summer eyes.

“Not from boys like that.” You answered.

His eyebrow quirked up, “Boys?”

“They are not as… mature as I like.” If it were not for the poor lighting, you could have sworn you saw the ball on his throat move as he gulped. The insinuation in your words was not lost on him.

Handsome and smart. A good combination.

It seemed as though your words caught him off guard, so you spoke more, “Surely, in the beauty of such a celebration, a handsome man such as yourself should be with his wife?” You wanted him to deny the assumption. However, you were not stupid. A man who looked like him was not one to stay solitary – women would have flocked to him in both his youth and older age.

Though, to your great relief, his words comforted you.

“No, my lady, I am not married.” You rejoiced on the inside but continued to act calm. Immediately after though, you felt stupid. He was beyond your years, beyond your experience. Why would he care for a young woman such as you, only in their twenties?

The growing tension between the two of you was almost tangible. His appearance was entirely too alluring for you. The energy he gave off was both dominant and reserved, making you want to sink under his protection.

Before anything else could be said, the balcony doors opened. Your father walked out, seemingly oblivious to the heat between you two.

“Ah, Marcus! I was wondering when I would see you tonight. How are you doing, my good friend?” Your father’s hands clasped his shoulder in a friendly manner, face smiling and tinged red due to the wine affecting his system.

“I am well. This celebration is rather grand. You have outdone yourself this time.” There was an underlying tension in his voice that went unnoticed by your father, but you caught it. Was it frustration? Why would he be frustrated in this moment?

However, the name Marcus struck a chord of familiarity. You glanced at him again and took in his clothes and stature. While your initial observation about him being a soldier had been correct, it was only then that you realized it was slightly off. He was a general. General Marcus floated around your mind until it landed on something surprising.

General Marcus Acacius.

The most accomplished Roman general and a name your father had mentioned many times throughout the years.

And you had just flirted with him.

“It seems you have met my daughter.” Your father moved to stand beside you.

You watched as Marcus’ face dropped, “Your daughter?” His eyes moved to you for a brief moment before returning to your father.

“Yes,” Your father wrapped his arm over your shoulder and squeezed you to his side, “I do not believe I ever introduced you two. My wife tended to keep her away from the prying eyes of the public,” At the mention of your deceased mother, you cringed slightly. It was still a sensitive topic for you. It was also the truth; your mother often kept you away from events in the hopes that Rome would not corrupt you.

“She is a lovely woman. Raised well.” Marcus responded though he kept his eyes on your father. It was obvious that he was avoiding looking at you and you almost yearned for the returning warmth of his eyes.

“I hope you have gotten to know one another a little bit before I leave her to your charge.” Your father spoke.

His words had you furrowing your eyebrows, “What?” Your father turned to you with an incredulous look, as if the answer was obvious.

“I told you I would be leaving you in the care of a good friend while I am gone,” He responded.

You remembered it. You also remembered thinking it would be another one of his very old friends who had since retired and lived a quiet life. Never once did you think you would be handed over to the care of the most accomplished general in Rome who also happened to be a man you could not help but be very attracted to.

Before you could respond, your father perked up as he looked inside through the open balcony doors, “There he is! Forgive me, Marcus, but I have been wishing to introduce someone to my daughter. I hope to speak to you later.”

Your father tugged on your arm and dragged you back into the estate. For a moment, your gaze flickered behind to spot Marcus already staring at you. When he was caught looking, he turned back around to look out at the night sky.

Now that you were back in the throes of people mingling with the sound of the band in the background, you could feel yourself beginning to itch. It was a feeling you would get under your skin with the looks of the other members of the aristocracy. They were suffocating. However, you played the game of a general's daughter and continued with a smile on your face.

Your father stopped in front of a man, “Lucan, I was telling you about my daughter.” The man appeared only a few years older than you. His formal attire spoke military, low ranking, but enough to warrant some level of respect. Lucan was not bad-looking, rather pleasing actually. Youthful with an air of ruggedness in his short blond beard. His eyes were blue like the sky during the day, yet they did not feel as bright as the golden light in the dark browns of Marcus’ eyes. You bit your lip to stop yourself from thinking of a man you had only just met.

“You are as beautiful as others have described, my lady.” Lucan grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles. While the compliment was nice, it did not feel as good as Marcus’ voice calling you beautiful; there was something in his voice then that sounded more genuine.

“Lucan Luctuca, I’d like you to formally meet my daughter. Perhaps a dance would be nice?” Your father's eagerness was not lost on you. It was obvious that he had been, in recent years, more desperate to find you a suitable husband. He could not take care of you forever and your presence in his house felt odd. The longer you remained unwed, the more members of the court believed you to be defective or undesirable.

Lucan seemed to take your father's words seriously and took your arm from him to lead you to where many people were dancing. The two of you began as a new song started to play.

“I apologize if my compliment sounded disingenuous. I was lying about your beauty,” Lucan began and you had half a mind to punch him because of his words, “If I am honest, beautiful is not good enough to describe you, my lady. However, I felt it would be untoward to say such a thing in front of your father.”

“Thank you,” Your skin turned slightly red at his compliment and you could feel your face warm up slightly, “How is it that you know my father?”

“He trained with my father when they were starting their service. I have grown up outside of Rome and have only just come here. It seems your father is intent on us getting to know one another.” Lucan spun you around.

“My father is insistent on finding me a husband,” You responded. Over Lucan’s shoulder, you could see that Marcus had come back inside and was talking to a group of men. Yet, his gaze was locked on you as you danced with Lucan. He was clutching a goblet in his hands. If it were not made of metal, surely his grip would have broken it.

“Then I hope I am a sufficient contender,” The musicians transitioned to another song, but you stayed dancing with him.

“Well, I’ll have to get to know you better,” While flirting was fun, it felt odd to do it with Lucan. He was nice, from what you could tell. Level-headed and respectful to boot. None of it entirely mattered when Marcus’ gaze had yet to leave you.

“Sounds wonderful,” Lucan said.

The rest of the time that the two of you danced, you only slightly paid attention to what he was saying. The rest of the dance was spent trying to cool yourself down each time you glanced at Marcus and found that he was still looking at you. The men around him had gradually left until it was just him standing on the outskirts of the mingling groups and leaning up against a pillar.

It was hard to pay attention to Lucan’s words when your whole body felt on fire. By the time the two of you separated, it was already terribly late and you were tired. You looked around for your father as you wished to bid him goodnight before retiring to your room.

When you finally spotted him, he was standing with Marcus and talking merrily. You sucked in a breath and realized you would have to be near Marcus again. You wondered if the Gods were pulling a terrible joke on you. He was a man beyond your reach, yet your body felt such a connection to him despite only meeting a few hours prior.

It was ridiculous. The two of you had what could barely be construed as a conversation and already your brain was picturing yourself with him.

You approached both of the men, “Father, it is late and I wish to retire.”

“Ah, well I hope you rest well,” Your father sipped from his goblet, “What did you think of Lucan?” At the mention of Lucan’s name, you could see Marcus turn to face you. His gaze was piercing the side of your head.

“He was nice. Pleasant to talk to.” You responded.

“Mature?” Marcus asked. While seemingly innocent to others, but a little odd, the words stuck a chord in you. He was bringing up your previous comment about the men attempting to court you not being as mature for your taste. You could not tell if it was a subtle jab at you, or perhaps an attempt to undermine Lucan and bolster himself.

Like the daughter of a military man, you too knew methods of war.

“He was, General.” You stared him in the eyes while speaking and enjoyed the vein in his temple flex. He hummed at your response, a noise deep in timbre that sent a wave of warmth all over your body.

“Well,” Your father was oblivious to the tension between you two, “Good night, darling.” He gave you a quick hug and you smiled. You nodded to Marcus to be respectful and began walking towards the door to exit the large hall. You were glad that this celebration was in your home, as you would not have to walk far to reach your room. The only downside was the nagging feeling in your head to go back out and spend the rest of the night with Marcus.

It would be wrong.

You knew it would be wrong.

Marcus was older than you and he was your father's friend.

The air in your room suddenly felt hot and you scrambled to undress from the clothing you wore. It was quiet save for the distant sound of the party still going on, though gradually decreasing in numbers.

You plopped down on your bed and let out a loud huff. Still, even in the privacy of your room, you could feel the searing heat of Marcus’ gaze. What disturbed you the most about it was that you liked the attention from him. You liked the thought of him undermining Lucan to bolster himself in your favour. That competitiveness and confidence lit a fire in your heart.

You thought of tomorrow when your father left for his campaign. For months, you will be living at Marcus’ estate, under his guidance and protection. A part of you, the one loyal to your father, was dreading this. You did not want to do anything untoward that would disrespect both him and Marcus.

However, the other part of you was thrilled to be in close proximity with Marcus. The dreamy side of your mind was hoping, maybe, that he could look at you the same way you looked at him. But that would be a betrayal to your father.

You wondered how you would survive in the coming months.

This was edited while I was doing the 12-3-30 challenge on the treadmill so I apologize for any errors -- I was sweaty and delirious.

#marcus acacius #x reader #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius fic #marcus acacius fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #marcus acacius imagine

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