#he knew it and he’s wishing she’d punish him for it but she didn’t

[acourtofquestions]

Boots crunched in hay, and then he was knee to knee before her.

Aedion.

There was nothing kind on his face. No pity or warmth.

For a long minute, they only stared at each other.

Then the prince growled softly, "Your plan was bullshit."

She said nothing, and couldn't stop her shoulders from curving inward.

"Your plan was bullshit," he breathed, his eyes sparking. "How could you ever be her, wear her skin, and think to get away with it? How could you ever think you'd get around the fact that our armies are counting on you to burn the enemy to ashes, and all you can do is run away and emerge as some beast instead?"

"You don't get to pin this retreat on me," she rasped. The first words she'd spoken in days and days.

"You agreed to let Aelin go to her death, and leave us here to be slashed to bloody ribbons. You two told no one of this plan, told none of us who might have explained the realities of this war, and that we would need a gods-damned Fire-Bringer and not an untrained, useless shape-shifter against Morath."

Blow after blow, the words landed upon her weary heart. "We—"

"If you were so willing to let Aelin die, then you should have let her do it after she incinerated Erawan's hordes!"

"It would not have stopped Maeve from capturing her."

"If you'd told us, we might have planned differently, acted differently, and we would not be here, damn you!"

She stared at the muddy hay. "Throw me out of your army, then."

"You ruined everything." His words were colder than the wind outside. "You, and her."

Lysandra closed her eyes.

Hay rustled, and she knew he'd risen to his feet, knew it as his words speared from above her bowed head. "Get out of my tent."

She wasn't certain she could move enough to obey, though she wished to. Needed to. Fight back. She should fight back. Rage at him as he lashed at her, needing an outlet for his fear and despair.

Lysandra opened her eyes, peering up at him. At the rage on his face, the hatred She managed to stand, her body bleating in pain. Managed to look him in the eye, even as Aedion said again with quiet cold, "Get out."

Barefoot in the snow, naked beneath her cloak. Aedion glanced at her bare legs, as if realizing it. And not caring.

So Lysandra nodded, clutching Ansel's cloak tighter, and strode into the frigid night.

"Where is she?" Ren asked, a mug of what smelled like watery soup in one hand, a chunk of bread in the other. The lord scanned the tent as if he would find her under the cot, the hay.

Aedion stared at the precious few logs burning in the brazier, and said nothing.

"What have you done?" Ren breathed.

Everything was about to end. Had been doomed since Maeve had stolen Aelin. Since his queen and the shifter had struck their agreement.

So it didn't matter, what he'd said. He hadn't cared if it wasn't fair, wasn't true.

Didn't care if he was so tired he couldn't muster shame at his pinning on her the blame for the sure defeat they'd face in a matter of days before Perranth's walls.

He wished she'd smacked him, had screamed at him. But she had let him rage. And had walked out into the snow, barefoot.

He'd promised to save Terrasen, to hold the lines. Had done so for years. And yet this test against Morath, when it had counted ... he had failed.

He’d muster the strength to fight again. To rally his men. He just ... he needed to sleep.

Aedion didn't notice when Ren left, undoubtedly in search of the shifter with who he was so damned enamored.

He should summon his Bane commanders. See how they thought to manage this disaster.

But he couldn't. Could do nothing but stare into that fire as the long night passed.

[little-wicked10]

buy me presents🎁

Summary: Soldier Boy can’t help his obsession with his little Beverly Hills beauty and spoils her for Christmas.

Warnings: Smut 18+, cursing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, daddy kink, sugar daddy vibes, possessive behavior, subspace, degrading, praise kink, creampie, and lots of other goodies🔞☃️

Notes: OBVIOUSLY inspired by “buy me presents” by Sabrina Carpenter. I went REALLY feral with this one🤭 Merry Christmas @jays-bonnie-on-the-side 🎄

//

“I sure wish you were coming here for Christmas, daddy,” she purred into the phone, twirling the cord around her manicured finger.

Ben groaned on the other end of the line, “Gonna get me hard on set, doll. Don’t be naughty. You know I got a shit ton of PR bullshit to do ‘round here.”

“I’m starting to think you don’t wanna buy me any presents,” she pouted her red lips.

His chuckle in her ear sent tingles across her skin, “I’m startin’ to think all you want is my black card.”

“That’s not true!” she playfully whined, “I want your dick too.”

Ben smirked, “I know you do, baby. Daddy’s been dyin’ without that sweet lil’ pussy on his dick, his mouth, his fingers.”

He was trying to tease her, but his plan backfired when he felt his dick strain in his pants. The little pathetic whimper he heard made it twitch. “Shit, you better not be playin’ with yourself!” he growled.

“N-No, I’m not, daddy. But, you’re being so mean and unfair,” she whined.

“I know, honey, I’m just a bastard, aren’t I?” his cocky tone made her groan in annoyance, “Keep bein’ nice, and Santa is gonna spoil the shit out of his Vixen.”

She moaned and rubbed her thighs together at the playful name. Damn Vought for making him work. Damn the modeling agency for making her work. She’d give anything to skip her latest photoshoots to be back in the arms of her Supe lover. It’s been weeks since the last time she was wrapped around him, and the ache was starting to get unbearable. Chills trickled down her spine remembering the way he slammed the head board of his Alaskan King bed into the plaster as he felt her creaming all over his pistoning cock. By the time she had to leave for Beverly Hills, the whole damn tower knew her name.

As the memories swirled in her lust riddled eyes, a whimper slipped from her painted lips. Ben’s deep groan pulled her from her thoughts. “Whatcha thinkin’ about, baby? Thinkin’ about how daddy had your naked body pressed against the cold glass of his penthouse last time you were here? ‘Cause I think about that all the time. How hard your nipples got, how our body heat fogged up the glass, how you soaked the carpet underneath us by the time I was done with ya,” he grabbed his bulge, “Bet those assholes in make up had a hell of a time coverin’ up all those hickeys.”

She clutched the phone tighter in her hand, panting and moaning into the receiver. He didn’t play fair. She wasn’t allowed to touch herself unless he said so, and he rarely said so. Soldier Boy was a glutton for her suffering and neediness, for those desperate pleas for sweet release. She only disobeyed him once, concluding he couldn’t possibly tell the difference, but he certainly did. The punishment was fucking herself on him while he didn’t do shit, simply sitting back and smoking a joint while she weakly tried to get off without his help. Absolute torture.

“Please, let me touch myself, daddy,” she whined pathetically, “Could be an early Christmas present.”

His laugh made a pit of disappointment settle in her stomach, “Nuh uh, sugar tits. You can wait till I get there next week.” Suddenly, there was the sound of voices in the background. The supe barked at them to fuck off he’d be there in a minute. “I gotta go, honey.”

She pouted, “Fine.”

“Be good, Vixen,” he chuckled, “Santa’s coming to town real soon.”

They were having way too much fun with the Christmas themed teasing.

//

It was around 10 o’clock the next night when a knock echoed through her empty home. She’d fallen asleep draped across the couch waiting on their nightly call. She yawned as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Adjusting her silk robe, she slipped off the couch and padded towards the door. She wondered who could possibly be knocking this late as she slipped down the main hallway. A familiar figure came into view, identity hidden by the frosty privacy glass around the door. She didn’t need to see his face to know who was standing on her front porch. A delighted squeal left her lips as she rushed towards the door and flung it open.

“Ho, Ho, Ho,” Ben smirked.

“You better not have any other ho’s,” she playfully scolded, “What are you doing here? I thought you had PR with Vought.”

“Yeah, I told those fuckers to gargle my ballsack I gotta see my lady,” he smiled.

Removing the duffel from his shoulder, he swept her into his arms and walked into her home. The metal buckles of his suit were cold through the thin silk of her robe and pajamas. Lipstick marked his skin with every kiss she bestowed upon his handsome face. “Save some of those kisses for later, honey. You know how much I love lipstick on my cock,” he growled into her ear.

“Depends on what Santa got me before I decide if I’m feelin’ generous,” she teased.

“Well then let’s get to openin’,” he smiled as he carried her into the beautifully decorated living room.

Once he set her down, she bounced onto the couch, sitting on her knees patiently. Ben sat next to her with a huff and swiftly unzipped the black bag. She giggled excitedly as he began pulling out the most gorgeously wrapped gifts and set them on the coffee table. The paper was a shiny baby pink wrapped with a velvet hot pink ribbon. Once all the presents were spread out for her to pick apart, the supe propped a foot up and lit a cigar. She took a moment to admire the handy work of some poor intern at Vought Ben had most likely intimidated into doing it. Soldier Boy didn’t wrap gifts.

He watched with an amused grin as his spoiled lover suddenly perched herself on his knee and opened every expensive gift he’d picked out: beautiful jewels from Cartier and Tiffany (he couldn’t decide which was better so he went with both), designer clothes and shoes from her favorite name brands, lingerie, and even a sable fur coat.

“Ben! Oh my god, baby! Is this real?!?” she gasped as she held the fur to her chest.

“Of course it’s real. Only the best for you,” he smirked as smoke curled from his perfect lips.

She wrapped her arms around his strong neck and passionately kissed his lips, tasting his cigar. A large hand held her waist as he slipped his tongue against hers. She was quick to face him and straddle his lap properly, “I’m feelin’ very grateful, Santa. I must have been an awful good girl to get all these presents.”

Ben squeezed the plush of her ass, “It’s the naughty things that got you on my nice list, Vixen. And, Santa’s got one more for ya.”

“Oh I can feel it,” she ground her hips down into his.

He clenched his teeth and groaned, “Not that. That’s in a minute.”

Ben picked her up and placed her on the couch, setting his cigar in an ashtray. Kneeling down before her, he took her right leg in his grasp, resting her foot against his shoulder. She leaned back and shivered as his soft lips and rough beard tickled her ankle. They dragged up towards her calf, smirking into her skin when he heard her quiet moan. His free hand reached into his pocket to pull out a small silver chain with a charm dangling from it. The metal was warm as he wrapped it around her slender ankle. Once it was clasped and freely hanging, Ben sat back to let her look at it.

“An anklet?” she asked curiously.

“Mmhm. Look at the charm,” he encouraged.

She removed her foot from his shoulder and tucked her leg against her body, looking down to admire the charm. It was an exact replica of the metal eagle patches on the upper arms of his suit. Her fingers felt engravings on the back. Flipping it around, she read the words, ‘Property of Soldier Boy.’

“I would have paid for a tattoo, but I know that’s not your style. This is muuuuch sexier,” he brought her ankle back to his chest, admiring the silver gleaming in the dim light, “Had it made special for ya. Something pretty to dangle in your face when I’ve got ya bent in half.”

“Isn’t that what your face is for?” she teased as she push her foot against his chest.

With a deep chuckle, he caught her behind both knees and yanked her legs open, pulling her to the edge of the couch, “It’s also a little reminder of who owns this ass.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, “Make sure no body touches what’s yours, daddy?”

“Oh nobody would ever dare come near ya. If not from my lil’ reminder, then your expensive taste would bleed’em dry,” he leaned forward and kissed her neck.

She thread her fingers through his soft hair, “Your fault for spoiling me so much. Ruined me for any other man with that black card and thick dick.”

“Damn fuckin’ straight, honey,” he bit down hard where her neck and shoulder met, “Ya gonna let me unwrap my present now? Drink you like a warm glass of milk? Santa’s pretty thirsty.”

She nodded with a sweet sigh as his hands began to roam her body with determination. A moan slipped from her throat when he sucked on her jawline below her ear. Small hands slipped down his body and expertly began to unbuckle his suit. Ben let go of her long enough to slip it off. Her flimsy robe went next as his hands greedily shoved up under her tank top, groping her breasts in his large hands. She whimpered as he bit her lip and pinched her nipples.

“Fuck me, I missed these tits so much,” he groaned. She moaned into his mouth and ground her hips into his abdomen. The warmth from her pussy radiated through her flimsy shorts and into his skin. Every pass of her hips made her wetter, soaking through the silk. “C’mere,” Ben yanked her closer to wrap her legs around his waist and stood up.

It was a quick sprint up the stairs before entering her bedroom. He tossed her to the mattress, and she bounced, tits jiggling beautifully. “Naked. Now,” the order was gruff as he began unbuckling his belt. The green of his eyes turned dark watching her slip out of the cute little sleeping set. Only thing left on her body was a silver anklet and a sultry smile. She maneuvered herself on the bed to lay on her stomach, face inches from his hips. Ben’s gaze never left hers as he tossed his boots and pants aside.

He had a cocky swagger as his hard dick bobbed with every step. Her mouth watered, and she licked her lips at the sight. A deep chuckle reverberated from his chest, running his fingers through her hair before taking a handful, “I know that look, doll.” She bit her lip and stared up at him through her lashes, her crossed ankles swaying in the air. She leant forward and placed a bright red kiss mark at the base of his cock. He shuddered at the feel of her soft lips and warm breath.

Just as he asked, she decorated his cock in her lipstick. First, leaving kiss marks all the way up to his head. They all began to smear once she took him into her mouth, bobbing up and down until she was ready to take more. The hand tangled in her hair started guiding her as his hips started fucking into her mouth. Tears burned in her eyes, mascara beginning to run, but she kept going. He was taking it easy on her considering how long it had been since the last time they’d fucked.

“That’s my girl. You remember how to do this. Relax your throat a lil’ more for daddy,” Ben growled, “J-Just like that. Fuck, you’re such a good girl!”

She moaned around his length.

“Gonna cum down that pretty throat, honey,” he growled, “Swallow it. Fuckin’ swallow it!”

Her throat constricted around his girth as he came. He slowly began to pull his cock out, still throbbing and squirting into her mouth. He smeared the head of his dick against her tongue. She held her tongue out to show the last of his essence before swallowing. Ben kneeled with a sly grin and wiped her tears with his thumb, “That’s my good lil’ slut.” Her eyes were glazed over and her lips wet as she nuzzled into his hand. He suddenly picked her up and laid her against the plush pillows.

He caught her shamelessly watching his muscles stretch and flex as he laid on his stomach, throwing her legs over his broad shoulders. The tinkling of the anklet made a feral feeling settle in his body. “Your turn,” he grinned.

“Oh daddy!” she cried as his mouth enveloped her pussy.

The way he swirled his tongue around her clit then dip into her entrance made her begin to pant. Tiny, pathetic whimpers escaped her lips as she tried to roll her hips against him. The scratch of his beard her favorite sensation when he went down on her. Ben moaned and shook his head side to side, letting his tongue and facial hair rub against her sensitive folds. “I fucking love your beard, daddy! I want beard burn on my pussy!” she cried. His chuckle vibrated against her. He loved the sound of her desperate babbling.

Her small hands grasped at his hair frantically when he stuck his tongue inside her and ran his thumb over her clit. The calluses on his fingers added to the sparks tingling her nerve endings. She suddenly arched her back to rub her pussy against his face more. Two thick fingers replaced his tongue, and he sucked her clit into his mouth. Hooking his fingers, he assaulted that sensitive little spot inside her.

She nearly screamed as the damn burst, and she gushed all over his face and hand. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! YES, DADDY!” she screamed.

Ben’s groan vibrated through her and helped in adding to her pleasure. Her body trembled and spasmed as the waves crashed over her. Her first orgasm quickly bled into another as he kept up the pace. He only stopped when she began to push his head away and whine. “T-Too much, daddy! Need your cock! Now! P-Please!” she hiccuped.

His hot breath panted against her abused center. Their eyes met, and he could swear he saw cute little pink hearts in her blown pupils. Sitting up on his knees, Ben wiped his beard before pulling her hips to his. Her legs wrapped around his waist and his massive length rested against her slick sex. He held her hips in his hands as he watched her large breasts heave with each pant that escaped her bitten lips.

“Those fuckers you work for should put this image right here on the cover,” he felt her pussy lips clench on the underside of his cock, “Fuck, you like the idea of people seein’ what a cock drunk lil’ whore you are, baby?”

She dumbly nodded, not a thought forming in her fuzzy, lust-fueled mind.

Ben rut his hips back and forth, coating himself in her slick, “That face right there is why Santa was so good to you this year. Ain’t even put it in yet and you’re already a fucked dumb whore.”

She whined and whimpered, hips wiggling in anticipation as he notched his tip at her entrance. The need burned deep in her stomach, but she was being patient for him.

“My fucked dumb whore. My pretty lil’ slut,” he started to press his hips forward, “My favorite girl. Daddy’s spoiled princess.”

Ben moaned as her cunt clenched around him at his praises. He was a possessive son of a bitch, and feeling that anklet pressing between his lower back and her ankle made him fucking animalistic. His right hand slid from her hip to circle her clit with his thumb. She cried out and he moaned when their hips were flush together, tip kissing the back of her cervix. She never got tired of that overly full feeling only he could give her. That sweet stretching of her opening was addicting. Ben leaned over her, left hand holding her hip while right leaning against the mattress next to her head. Just as she was about to beg for him to move, his hips snapped forward. Each thrust hard and deliberate in reshaping her plush, velvet walls to his cock again.

Small hands held on to his strong neck and broad shoulders as her eyes watched his abs flex. She drooled over the way his body looked as he fucked her. She didn’t know what possessed her mind to conjure it, but she thought he was so pretty. Prettier than any gift he’d gotten her. It was odd to think of a man so ruggedly handsome as pretty. His forest green eyes dark with lust, his long hair hanging in his face, perfect smile adorning his face every time she cried out his name. It was beautiful.

“Sss…ssso pretty, d-daddy,” her right hand skimmed down his chest, red nails tracing down his V-line, “Prettier t-than m-me.”

Ben chuckled down leaned down on his forearm to brush his lips against her cheek, “Not prettier than you, baby, but I appreciate the compliment. Ya like daddy’s pretty cock inside ya?”

She gasped when he picked up his thrusts. The way her nails kept tickling his V-line made him shudder. Suddenly, he took her hands in his, intertwining their fingers and holding them above her head. Her legs wrapped tighter around his hips as he drove into her deeper. The only sound leaving her lips ‘uh, uh, uh’ over and over again. He sucked on her neck, leaving large bruises all over her neck. Each love bite soothed over with the pass of his tongue.

Her whole body was tingling and writhing. This was why he didn’t want her to play with herself. Her body was so sensitive and responsive to him it was insane. Selfishly, he wanted her to only get pleasure from him. Only cum when he wants her to, in the way he wants her to, however many times he wants her to. She was completely at his mercy, addicted to his touch. He suddenly flipped them, placing her on top before letting go of her hands to wrap his arms around her. She slipped hers around his neck and head, grasping his brown locks to make him look her in the eye.

His thrusts continued at a brutal pace. His teeth bit into her bottom lip as she moaned and trembled. When his right hand trailed up her spine, he took a fist full of her hair and pulled her mouth to his. The mind melting way he kissed her made her move her hips more with his thrusts. Suddenly, his left hand moved down to harshly grab and slap her ass. He swallowed her gasp when he suddenly circled his finger around the hole he wasn’t fucking. “O-Oh, fuck, baby!” he stuttered as her inner walls choked his cock, “Didn’t know you wanted daddy to play with your asshole, did ya?”

She could only whine, enjoying the constant circling of his middle finger over the small hole. The way their bodies pressed together made her rub her clit against his pelvis. She frantically rode him as he kept fucking up into her. Her voice went up higher in pitch the closer she came to exploding. “Look at you! Gettin’ off to daddy teasing your ass and fucking you raw. I’m gonna have to pull out.”

She gasped and held him tighter, nearly sobbing, “No! D-Don’t pull out, daddy! Stay i-inside! Want…huh…it inside!”

Ben smirked at the sound she made when he ground the tip of his dick into her cervix. He fucked her like a beast, primal need driving him to claim her in the most feral ways possible. And, she was going to let him for as long as he pleased. Her orgasm hit them both like a truck. She dug her nails into his chest, screaming and whimpering as she squirted all over his lap. The wet sounds filling the room were fucking obscene. It sounded like a dog drinking water as he kept ramming into her.

“Oh fuck, you can’t stop,” he laughed, “You can’t stop cummin’, can ya? This pussy won’t stop squirtin’!”

She let out little panting whines as her body jerked and convulsed. A scream of ecstasy came from her mouth when Ben hooked the tip of his finger into her asshole and slammed her on his cock. Both nearly blacked out as he came deep inside her with a loud roar that bled into a moan. The way her walls constricted and tried to push him out made him pump harder, deeper, forcing her sensitive body to spasm around his cock.

The two rode their highs, gently rutting against one another. Sweat clung to her skin while only a light sheen dusted the his. It would take a couple of rounds before the supe truly broke out in a sweat. Ben whispered sweet things in her ear as she floated down to earth.

“You did good, baby. Daddy’s so proud of ya,” he cooed into her ear, hands moving soothingly over her skin, “Best Christmas present I could’a asked for.”

She only hummed as she littered his chest and neck with kisses. Neither moved from their position, staying as close as possible. She stayed pressed against the expanse of his chest as he leaned over and took a joint from the night stand. The lighter flicked to life and the smell of weed filled the air. Her mind was still foggy and lightheaded, snuggled up in a syrupy sweet state. If he pulled out right now, she’d throw a desperate and pitiful tantrum, but he had no intention of leaving her insides any time soon.

Ben heard her heart rate slow and breathing begin to equalize. Her mouth nuzzled against his jaw playfully as her hands wondered over his muscles, “I have a present for you, daddy.”

“Another one? The only present I want is to do THIS until one of us passes out,” he smirked.

“We do that all the time,” she giggled, “Grab the black folder from the drawer.”

Holding the joint between his lips, he once again reached to the small table. He opened the drawer to find black folder with his Supe name printed on the cover in silver letters. Ben settled back onto the bed and opened the gift to reveal a spectacular sight. Picture after picture of her in the most revealing, jaw-dropping lingerie, while posed in the most ball-achingly, sinfully delicious positions.

“Holy shit! When did you do this?” he asked looking down at her.

Her giggle turned into a whimper as she felt him begin to throb and harden inside her, “Playboy asked to do a shoot with me a few weeks ago. I asked Hugh if I could borrow the set up for something special for America’s Hero.”

The more he kept flipping through the glossy pictures, the stiffer he became inside her. She weakly pushed herself up to sit up and on his dick. By the time he tossed the folder on the bed, she was rolling her hips and frantically fucking herself on him like a bitch in heat. “You read my fuckin’ mind, doll,” he moaned as she took his large hands and placed them on her tits.

“One…one more…present,” she panted, hands encouraging his to be rougher with her chest.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from where his dick disappeared inside her, “Thought I was supposed to spoil you? What else did ya get me?”

Her eyes had been pinched closed, but she pried them open to look at him. She bit her lip before finally letting it slip, “I want you to f-fuck me at H-Herogasm. In front of everyone, daddy!”

Ben almost came again, “Goddamnit, seriously?!? Are you for real?”

She nodded frantically as she kept bouncing, “Only you. N-No one else!”

His head thumped against the headboard as he groaned in deep satisfaction, fingers pinching her nipples, “Just me, honey, you got it! Christ on a cross! I think I’m in love!”

She let out a breathy giggle, eyes rolling into the back of her head, “M-Merry Christmas, daddy.”

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas, baby,” he moaned.

//

Have a very Nonsense Christmas🎄💋

[heraxic]

I’m sorry if you already answered this (I didn’t find it mentioned) but why was Kyril/Karl mutated, imprisoned and hunted in the Greek Myth AU? This definitely feels like Miranda/Athena was punishing him. What happened?

Thanks for asking!

Here’s pre-curse Kyril (story under cut, body horror/gore warning)

Yes, it was meant as punishment (unlike Alina and Daphne), and to no one’s surprise his crime was hubris.

Kyril worked at his father’s forge, far surpassing his skills in both metalworking and stone masonry. As such he was blessed by Hephaestus himself.

He got commissioned to make a statue of Athena in honor of her craftsmanship. He rolled his eyes and set to work, complaining that it’d be more fitting to make one of Hephaestus, who picked up the slack, since Athena abandoned her craft and stopped making beautiful things for the sake of her sick game (Athena’s Gauntlet of Monsters, so far containing a living whirlpool and a sphinx, was widely known and many daydreamed of or even sought the glory of defeating the beasts). In spite of his grumbling the statue came out stunning with clean cut stone and gilded detailing.

The next day, a weaver came to Kyril’s forge saying she’d heard his complaints about her goddess, which confused her cause with a statue that beautiful a blessing would naturally be in order, yet he burned that bridge. ‘What if she could give you the power to make the most life-like statues in the world?’ Kyril laughed and said it wasn’t her domain, and besides he didn’t need it.

Refusing a blessing from a god is one thing, but to mock them and be telling the truth at the same time is unforgivable.

The weaver lifted her shawl from her head and revealed a brilliant blue plume and with it a golden helmet. Athena arose to her full dreadful height, one hand holding her winged spear, the other pointed towards the terrified sinner in front of her. ‘You will know what power is when you see it. You shall have my blessing whether you wish or not.’

In a second, Kyril fell to the floor screaming with blinding agony, feeling horrible squelching and crunching as bone and muscle grew where it shouldn’t. His nails fell out and out of the raw empty spots grew thorny black claws; his spine extended to accommodate a tufted lion tail; the skin of his back ripped to tatters to unfurl two sets of bloody grey wings; his black curls turned to angry, writhing snakes, each more venomous than the last; his teeth grew sharp and pointed, cutting rifts on his tongue so blood filled his mouth; and lastly his eyes grew heavy in their sockets as they were imbued with the last of the goddess’s curse.

Hearing the commotion, Kyril’s father rushed in and cradled the strange figure he knew was his son, turning his head towards him. He instantly froze in place, a perfect image of paternal worry, and the monster felt the arms holding it turn hard and grating like stone.

Athena took him away to her islands somewhere in the Cyclades to become the next glorious creature on her roster, the Gorgon. There he lied writhing in pain for 12 days without sleep or food (besides the right leg of Pallas, which further changed his body and gained him far more muscle and size). When the pain subsided enough to let him speak he prayed for his patron Hephaestus to help him, but alas gods can’t break each other's curses. Instead he carved out a spacious cave for him in which to seek shelter as well as several unbreakable stonemason and smithing tools to keep up his spirits.

700 yrs later Elias comes to the islands.

[jeanmoreautemple]

Thea Muldani: a rant

I feel weird about Thea but I can’t really put into words exactly why? So I’m writing down some things I’ve thought.

I honestly didn’t think much about her before TSC, like she was okay (I wish she’d been introduced earlier tho or that she hadn’t graduated already so she was a recurrent Raven player or something).

After reading the extra content I wasn’t bothered about the age gap between her and Kevin but yes a little bit about the fact that Kevin was fourteen when they first met + the -you fuck like a virgin, maybe some practice will make you better at it- comment that Nora included. It was uuhh weird but the rest of the Kevthea story was okay, and Thea is 100% not a groomer. Plus, Nora technically deleted the extra content so in theory nothing there is canon yet.

Now in TSC we get her sole appearance in TKM from Jean’s POV, who has known her since he was fourteen (like Kevin- this is important to keep in mind). The scene starts out cute! We find out she took him under her wing and even had nicknames for him like Paris and her little duckling🥰. So the fourteen year boy that just arrived from france with broken English looked up to her, Thea was ~21 at this point.

We know Jean is going through HELL during this time:

And we also know the Moriyamas were always particularly cruel with Jean, getting more physical him than with Kevin. Even though It’s said that Riko would torture Jean and Kevin (broken hand incident) in private, hence the other Ravens not knowing the whole picture, how can a fourteen year old kid hide such pain? But apparently , as we later find out, Thea was too deep into the Evermore raven cult mindset that she didn’t find anything strange about the coach and Rikk’s behavior towards Jean.

At 15 Jean is given a number and place in the perfect court, but only at 16 joins the lineup. He gets a lot of hate, especially from the other defensemen, whom Thea works with:

Although the Ravens are know for being extremely violent training, at least in the court Thea must have noticed that the defense line were especially brutal to Jean. Or SOMETHING.

But here comes the worst part: during this same year Riko forces Jean to sleep with 5 defensemen. By the time Jean is a junior most of these have graduated which means they were 20 or older. So Thea had been playing with each of these guys for at least 2 years (except for Grayson), she knew them.

They went on to joke and talk about the whole ordeal as Jean paying for his perfect court number. Thea also being in the defense line could have heard all of this first hand, we don’t know. But It’s so widely talked about that it reaches Tetsuji and we do know Thea witnessed Jean’s punishment:

Coincidentally Thea starts a sexual and emotional relationship with Kevin this year (it’s her last too).

So here’s the part that made me dislike Thea very much. In TKM she goes to Kevin demanding answers, Kevin then brings her to Jean, who is looking like this:

It’s been three years since she graduated but she’s still wearing her Raven number in a necklace, and when she sees Jean’s state in TSC she comments how if Kevin hadn’t said anything she’d think it normal:

By now it’s clear she at 26 is still 100% brainwashed, but this next line of hers cemented it:

YOUR OLD TRICKS ?!

So let’s break that down:

1. The immigrant kid (16!) she watched over for two years from age 14 to 16 suddenly starts having sex with members of HER (23!) defense line who are all around her age and openly hate him for 5 consecutive nights and she doesn’t suspect anything?

2. Said defensemen then brag and shame Jean afterwards calling him a whore, which leads to Jean getting beaten half to dead by their coach and still nothing?

3. Years later she recalls the incident as Jean being up to his little tricks and being rightfully beaten to a pulp?!!!!

I can’t. I know she’s also a cult victim but no. It was super common for Ravens to have hate sex with each other but her being close to Kevin (and somewhat Jean) during the time Jean’s (a 16 year old!) assaults were happening and still remaining this clueless… I’m sure she must be lovable for both Kevin and Jean to respect and care for her so much but her one scene convinced me she’s way too deep into the Raven spirit and her presence around Kevin and Jean would be just so harmful.

But I have to give credit when it’s due, apparently after some hours with Kevin and 7 years later she believes her King broke Kevin’s hand:

In conclusion:

Thea is absolutely no groomer but if one takes a look at her attitude towards Jean’s sexual history when he was 16 and how her relationship with Kevin was happening simultaneously, her you fuck like a virgin, maybe some practice will make you better at it and tell me you weren’t up to your old tricks comment combo, it all makes me dislike her. Cause you’d think someone who at 22-23 was dating a boy who had just turned legal would be careful or mature enough to choose her wording better when talking about the sexual activity between a boy close in age to her own boyfriend with people around HER age, but nope. The fact that Kevin married her, has a child and lives happily ever after with her seems unbelievable to me.

PS: Her and Kevin’s (we don’t know if he believes Riko) apparent ignorance or lack of suspicion of Jean’s freshman year assault was the most hurtful part of TSC tbh (not counting Elodie). Imagine having the closest people to you misunderstand/ believe lies about such a traumatic event. I guess this is why Nora didn’t include a Andrew POV, I would have died or wanted to kill Nicky and Aaron for not looking deeper into Andrew’s attitude.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[8:57 pm]

(cw: cursing, suggestive ending, f!reader)

Jaehyun was anxiously waiting for a text, a call, something from you. It was Halloween and Jaehyun was at work while you were going out with your best friends. While Jaehyun wouldn’t call himself possessive, he respected your autonomy and wanted you to live your life to the fullest, but he wanted to be there living life right by your side. He also knew that while you were going out partying and no doubt drinking a little that people could get crazy and he wanted you to be safe.

Not to mention he knew you’d be going out looking gorgeous. He tried to focus on the dance moves being taught, but his mind was stuck on trying to remember what you were going to dress up as. Something “so cute” he remembers you saying but somewhere in your rambling about how you were buying the accessories and your best friend was buying the main outfit you got distracted and began telling Jaehyun all about your best friend’s horrible boyfriend. All he could remember was how this guy had moved out of your best friend’s apartment for the second time that month. You were so excited to be going out so you could get her mind off the guy.

We’re you both going to be nurses? No, it was something more flowy and sparkly. Princesses? That could be it. He was feeling a little more secure thinking that even if the costumes were on the sexy side, a corset could only show so much. He breathed out a relived sigh and focused on the footwork of the new dance.

“Go ahead and take 10 minute break, nice work,” the choreographer smiled.

Jaehyun was quick to get to his phone, scrolling through his notifications to look for a text or missed call. There was neither. The best was a notification that you had posted on your story. It was a short boomerang of your hand clinking shot glasses with your best friend. Unfortunately there was no glimpse of the costumes besides bare skin and sparkly arms. He texted you quickly, wishing you a safe, fun night and reminding him to text him when you were ready to be picked up.

You had extended the invitation, telling him that he could join you after he was done with practice. He had declined at first, he would be too tired, he wasn’t a huge Halloween guy, and he didn’t want to go out shopping for a cheap costume he’d only wear once. He was starting to rethink that decision now.

With his mind too preoccupied the rest of the practice went by quickly. Which turned out to be a bad thing… with nothing else to occupy his mind he was anxiously checking his notifications and refreshing his socials. You hadn’t posted anything since the first video almost an hour ago.

Thank god he followed your best friend. She has posted a video of the two of you in her apartment before going out, posted just half an hour ago. His jaw dropped, his mouth watered, and his mind went blank at the sight of you. You were dressed as a fairy, that much was clear with the wings strapped to your back and the flower crown on your head. That wasn’t what was driving him crazy, however. No it was the damn “costume” your best friend picked out, if you could even call it that. You were dressed in a light pink babydoll, split down the front to show off some skin of your abdomen, held together at the top with a beautiful white bra covered in pink lace. It was a piece of lingerie and I barely covered your ass!

If anyone asked how many times he had watched the video he wouldn’t be able to tell them, his eyes were first stuck on how gorgeous you looked, then how jealous he was to not be there with you, and how he hoped your best friend had chosen some little shorts instead of sexy underwear. He doubted she did, she was trying to make her piece of shit boyfriend jealous, so of course she’d buy matching underwear! Why was Jaehyun, the not piece of shit boyfriend, being punished? Why did the universe hate him?

He continued to refresh anything he could in the hopes of more videos, a message, a text, something else to keep him occupied. You had posted a video of the club you were both at, the light, the disco ball, your best friend, things he didn’t care about in the moment.

And for another 2 hours there was nothing, until you texted him asking him to pick you up. He was out the door in a second, he had been ready to pick you up the second he got home from practice.

He pulled up outside of the club and let you know he was there. He waited all of 3 minutes before he saw you legs and thin, shiny straps of your heels wrapping up your bare leg with tiny butterflies here and there. Then you were in the car smiling brightly at Jaehyun in the driver’s seat.

“Hi baby, thanks for picking me up,” you told him and you pulled on the seatbelt.

Jaehyun felt like an idiot, his mouth was moving but no noise came out. You were sitting right beside him looking absolutely ethereal with a pretty smile just for him. His eyes traveled all over your body, the sparkles on your collar bone, the sliver of skin he saw from the slit of the babydoll, and the never ending amount of skin that was your legs.

“H-hey baby,” he cleared his throat, “I was expecting two passengers tonight.”

You sighed with a roll of your eyes, “her ex was at the club and she disappeared into a bathroom with him. I wish you had come with us so I could have had fun with you instead of her ditching me.”

Jaehyun smiled to himself, eyes focused on the road ahead of him, “we can have fun at home baby.”

“But the night is already over and these wings are hurting me. Plus, you don’t even have a costume.”

“Different kind of fun, baby. So you can show me the intended purpose of that little costume.”

[maximumkillshot]

I Won't Lose You- ICLY 7.5

Warnings: Cheater POV, a lot of not nice things are said. Definitely something to think about if you are sensitive to that type of subject matter, cursing, some air of grand diosity,

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Characters: Chris, Seungmin

A/N: So a lot of people have been wondering what Chan has been thinking... Welp... You get what you wish for... even though it ain't pretty.  I wanted to punch him writing it. This is after Chris gets banned from the hospital room. Since it is following him and not the reader, I decided to give it a different name, with the annotation being 7.5. Happy anger management people!

ALL THE SKZ IRL ARE CINNAMON ROLLS THIS IS A FICTION- IT'S FAKE.

I Can't Lose you Masterlist-CLICK HERE

Stray Kids Masterlist-CLICK HERE

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. 

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

BEFORE:

Han looked up at Bin, trying to will himself not to cry. The both of you are so sweet, so kind. He could see the weight on Bin’s shoulders, crushing him. He could see it in his head, Bin keeping everything bad from crashing on top of you, his arms outstretched, using his whole body as a shield. Han knew that if it meant keeping you safe, Bin would carry the world. That’s what separated Bin from Chris. 

Both may be fond of you. Only one has ever put your safety over everything. Only one ever made you feel heard and seen. Only one ever made you laugh until you cried. Only one would take off work to take care of you when you’re sick. Only one made you understand that there is no priority above you. Only one would calm you with just a touch. Only one truly loves you with their heart and soul. That “only one” was in the bed with you right now. 

Han watched, eventually just letting the tears fall as Bin held you saying, “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you, I’m sorry. I love you… I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me.”

That was the first time Changbin had ever let himself say it out loud, “I love you so much it hurts…I Can’t Lose You.”

NOW:

Chan’s POV:

I have never seen Y/N like that. A part of me wants to say that it was something that was a freak accident, that Soo and I were a freak accident. We weren’t. Y/N deserves to know that, to have it acknowledged. I want to scream that I regret it, that I want to take it all back, that I wanted to erase it all. That would be a lie.

You can’t regret something that you actually initiated. I don’t regret what I did. I wanted a release, I got a release. I wanted to feel exhilaration, I got it. What I am sorry for is getting caught. Of course I’d never say this out loud but, the truth is my marriage was a means to an end. She loves me, of course… and I love her… to an extent. I loved it when she would perk up when I came home, or be passed out on the couch, waiting for me to come home. In a lot of ways, Y/N is like a puppy. She would do all the tricks in the book to make me happy. If she was lucky, she’d get rewarded. 

 There is an even more fucked up part of me that is relieved that she knows. Sneaking around wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was making it look like I was with the boys when I wasn’t. Y/N is so close to the boys it was a pain in the ass, all it would’ve taken was one text and right there my cover would be blown. I know that I can come back from this, though. Soo never held a candle to my wife. I just told Soo whatever she wanted to hear. I made it worth it for her to do what she wanted… what we wanted, who am I kidding, I wanted it. 

Everything is still so raw, she’s not really going to leave. I know she told me when we started dating, but I know that I can prove myself to her. She is the type to really believe that everyone is good inherently. It was something that I used to every advantage, if I’m honest. I’m obviously better than Changbin. I make more, I am more level headed… obviously… I am willing to do whatever I need to make sure I get what I want. How could she want anyone else? That’s like trading in a top of the line Ferrari for a beat up 1999 Taurus. Plus, she always gives people second chances. This is all one giant hiccup.

While the rest of the boys and I filed into the elevator, I heard her voice. She was so scared, I couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying, it was so meek, fragile… weak. That’s really the only downside to her. She is weak. Her emotions get the better of her always. Given, what happened would make anyone go crazy, but at the end of the day, she can’t keep control over her emotions. She is the type of person to read a room and follow the tone of the room. She isn’t a trendsetter, a leader. The only reason why the boys are the way that they are is because she is hurt. Something about their “white knight” complexes. Honestly I could puke just thinking about it. While they were playing games, painting, or just practicing on vocal technique, I was ensuring their continued employment. That will never change about her though. She folds under pressure. Like a skeleton with no spine. Sometimes it was exhausting, others amusing; that’s the biggest tell as to her coming back. She has no spine without me. She needs me… just like everyone else. 

Knowing the woman Y/N is I knew that for her to be this way, she had to hurt so badly. It ripped my heart out, seeing her finding comfort in another person, almost as much as knowing that I was the one to do all of it to her. It made me look so bad, to everyone. Hearing Changbin call out to Han that she was slipping, I’ve never heard a voice like that before. I’ve never heard screams like hers. I should’ve never tested her, calling our child “it”. She has been trying so hard, comforting me non-stop, that it’ll happen when it’s meant to happen, that she’ll be on top of it. To let me know in the cutest way. Nothing’s more cute than finding out on your third anniversary that your family is going to get bigger. 

It hurt me saying that, calling them “it”, that was exactly why I knew it would get the job done. I needed to peel her away from Changbin without touching her, but it worked a little too well. Why was I punsihing her, punishing them? I think the answer to that is simple. I don’t want the attention on me. Which is counterintuitive, given my natural tendencies. Right now, in this moment, I don’t want to be acknowledged. The way that they see me right now threatens everything I worked for, and it looks like everyone chose their side to stand on. Me giving them more of a chance to hate me is only going to make my job down the road harder.

I think some of the boys could tell. I am royally pissed. I got caught, which for one is annoying, but for all of them to take her side? That was infuriating. I spent so long honing them, training them. I always protected them, supported them. It is infuriating to have people that you did everything for to just dismiss you. Why were’nt they comforting me? That child was mine too. Why am I not getting any condolences? Hell, when we had no money to eat, I wouldn’t eat just so the 8 could have something… anything. The days I went to bed starving, the nights I worked around the clock to give them the opportunities that they now take advantage of. 

This is how they repay me? Screaming at me left and right, Changbin threatening to kill me, even Felix turned his back. I just fucked a side piece… I mean I know what that caused is on me. That I was responsible for what happened to our child. If I could feel like I was attached I am sure I would’ve been a wreck. Something that was mine being taken away does that to a person like me. One thing is for sure, I truly never wanted to hurt her. I never wanted to look bad, hurting her would do that, and so I made sure to tread lightly, my go to’s being, “I know Baby, I’m sorry,” and “What time is it? Shit Baby I’m so sorry.”

That didn’t stop me to wanting to have my own little thing. My own little secret. It was a different type of high that I didn’t know I craved… needed. It’s no doubt that Soo did feel better in bed. I could tell she knew what she was doing. Y/N had no experience before me and that did a wonder for my corruption kink, but after that… It was like pulling teeth. I had to teach her everything, so every time we we’d sleep together I had to act like I liked the fact that she’s so innocent. Which I do, but I also don’t want to have to have a health class every time I wanted to have sex. Soo wasn’t like that. She knew what she was doing. Hmmm… maybe I’ll clean up the house and finish what we started. 

In the elevator, no one wanted to say anything. I didn’t want to say anything either, I didn’t want to make anything worse than it is. It’s a unique empty feeling. Y/N would look at me like I hung the moon itself. The feelings that she gave me, I was seen, heard, and loved. Constantly reassured. I can’t live without that validation. The minute I walked out of the elevator I didn’t even look back, all I said was “Take care of her. Do what I didn’t, she needs you. Call me if you need anything.” That made me feel a little better, giving them an order, felt like the last say in a way. 

It was Seungmin’s voice that cut through, I heard him stop the elevator with is arm, “That was never a question, we’ve always taken care of her, don’t wait up. We all know you’re not used to being the one waiting for someone. Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” My lip upticked at his comment. Mostly because I didn’t imagine Seungmin to have balls like that and another was that I didn’t have a rebuttal. I always have a rebuttal. He’s right though, I always kept her waiting, not the other way around. It always made me feel important, that she needed me to go to bed well, that she craved to feel me.Yet now I find myself willing to wait an eternity if it meant being able to hold her one more time, to have her cook for me, then to cuddle up and pass out together, all of that shit I see as a waste of time. To think I hate needing someone yet here I am, needing her. 

I kept walking after I heard the elevator close. By the time I made it to the car I was trying my hardest not to collapse. My wife was in that hospital, fighting for her life, after I caused her to miscarry, a baby we have been wanting since our first anniversary. I am enraged. I’ve never felt so out of control and it’s driving me crazy. I am always in control. That is the only way that I function. It is something that I pride myself on. Now everything is out of place everyone stepped out of line. All I have to do is get them back in their rightful place… Then we can move on. 

 I’ve never imagined anyone else as the mother of my children, she is giving enough to focus on them while I work on my career. It’s always been Y/N. That thought was the one that made me slam my door a little too hard. She’s going to come back, she’ll be back. She will have my child, we will be happy… When everyone is in their place. 

I tried to distract myself as I went home. It felt like an out of body experience, seeing myself in the rearview mirror, hating the person I saw, just for the sole fact of getting caught. It was such a rookie move. I should’ve known that there was something going on when everyone said they were out for the night. No matter how loud I made the radio, I heard noting but her screams. I wanted to blame someone, get the pain as far away from me as possible, trying to make me out to be the good one. I’m not. The only things I’m good at are music and acting. I could still see the little glances she’d give me, convincing herself that I am just busy. She is so trusting, it honestly baffles me. Just another sign that she’s weak.

I wanted to make it her fault. She shouldn’t be so naive. Seeing Soo disappearing at the same time I am? The way that I couldn’t really look her in the eye for most of last month? She should’ve told me sooner. Maybe if she did that our child would still be here. That’s not even including how I’ve had to keep Soo on a shorter leash than anyone, her face gives so much away. The first time she hung out with us I had to take her to another room and tell her to get it together because she almost started crying in front of Y/N. I know that people will say that’s not fair, What part about anything that I’ve done screamed ‘oh this is reasonable’? None. It’s been so long I’ve been doing this that I don’t even remember how all of this started. Ah I remember now.

I guess a year ago it started off with me venting to Soo. I didn’t know why we weren’t conceiving. We timed out the cycles, we did everything correctly, but still it wasn’t happening. If I told the boys I know I would look weaker for it and I didn’t want Y/N to be even more stressed about getting pregnant. Soo validated my feelings and told me that she was always there for me. That was the first mistake. I should’ve gone to Y/N. After a while it went from talking when I was aggravated to talking daily. 

I looked forward to those calls so badly. It felt like a little interaction that was all mine. Making her laugh made me feel like when I used to get Y/N to laugh. The butterflies came soon after that, seeing that I got a form of attention I didn’t realize I was missing. About two months ago she told me that she was seeing me as “not just my friends husband”. That made my heart leap in my chest. I should’ve avoided her like the plague after that, I should’ve gone to my wife, but not only would that make her mad, it’d also make sneaking around harder. I did something worse.

“Good to know it’s not one sided.” I felt the words drip out of my mouth, even recounting it makes me a little excited. I turn onto my street and I heard Soo’s voice in my head, “Chris...” I knew it was wrong, I fucking knew it was, “I know. I know it’s wrong.” Then hearing her say, “What if she finds out?” with a giggle. “We’ll be discreet.”

We met up that night. I wanted to scrub myself head to toe, till my skin bled, making sure her scent was gone completely. It was so thrilling, so different, and I hated that I liked it. I liked it so much I knew I had to do it again, and soon too. Every time I came home Y/N was either passed out on the couch or in our bed. Notes left on the counter full of how much she loves me. I still remember the first one from that same night, “I know how forgetful you get in the studio, made extra of your favorite, it’s in the fridge, missed you-XOXO Y/N/N.” I looked at her form on the couch, clearly trying to stay up to see me. I ran to the bathroom to vomit, it made me anxious. I knew that I was playing with a downgraded version of my wife. If anything went wrong, I’d be left with the dollar store version of Y/N. For some reason that anxiety turned to exhiliration. The longer it went on for, the more comfortable I got of having my cake and eating it too. 

She never did anything wrong. I asked for space, she gave me space. I asked for anything and she would do it in a heartbeat. She always wanted me happy and stress free. After a while I made it okay in my head by saying that she wants me to be happy and having both make me happy so it’s okay. I know better, I always knew better. 

 I always got up too early, that way I didn’t afford myself time to see the person that I love in one of my favorite ways to see her, happy and sleeping. The last few days I gave myself that. Feeling the guilt eat me alive, rightfully so. I felt guilty for putting all of this on the line, putting her on the line, not for her, but what losing her means to me. I’d practice my apology while she slept, “I’m so sorry, I love you.” 

If it wasn’t for the boys being there, I could’ve had a better handle on her. I could’ve reiterated that practiced apology over and over. I could’ve kept the control I spent years making, which is really the most fucked up thing about all of this. I was in training for almost 10 fucking years, I finally get the perfect group of people who followed perfectly without question. Then Changbin goes ahead and goes soft for Y/N. She’s gorgeous, I know, she’s funny, and kind, but she was also making Bin step out of line a bit. Every time she was around, he would try to take point, try to be the center of attention. At first I thought that it was Bin trying to be cute. When he asked me how he could ask her out a few months after this started, I felt my stomach drop. She threatened everything I worked for. So I spewed some bullshit to make him question himself a bit more while I figured out what to do. 

Some wouldn’t see this as a problem. I am not some. I only let my members have center because I permitted it. If I threw myself in the spotlight always, it would look off. So I made myself into the best, most supportive leader, the leader of the 4th generation, how can you get bigger than that? The perfect wife… Y/N. It was perfect, if I had her, not only would I have more control over Bin, but I’d also have the perfect little family one day. That was when I decided to ask her out after getting her separated enough from Bin. Which wasn’t too hard. There were some unseen snags but overall it was easy. Keeping her is going to be just as easy. When she’s healed. Then everyone will fall back in line.

I pull in to my driveway and go to the door. Once I opened up the door, Bins clothes covered in blood were there, taunting me. I walked further into the house, I looked on the mantle, the picture from our wedding hung there. I remember that day, that gorgeous day. I threw it away. That woman with the most infectious smiles, the woman who’d hold me so close during horror movies. I found myself grabbing that picture, I dragged my finger over her face. I heard her voice, “I love you”, and I collapsed on the floor, right next to the clothes, sobbing, clutching the photo. She was so perfect. 

I got so mad at that point. I shouldn’t be crying, SHE ISN’T LEAVING ME. I can fix her just like I fixed everything else around me. My perfect wife, My perfect group, MINE.  

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

Liked it? TELL ME SO?

Want in on the tags? Shoot me an ask and consider it done!!

THE CHAOS EXPRESS 🚂❤️❤️

@Fuckthinking, @feybin , @1-800-shedevil , @channiesbakery, @channieswhore , @hwangswhore , @seungminhour , @skzms, @angstraykids, @roseykat , @seventeenytiny , @dreaming-medium , @thunderous-wolf , @hanjsquokka , @moonjxsung , @diddybok , @fics-lovebot, @seungminssangel, @straykeedz, @tasteracha, @ven-fic-recs , @euphoric-univers, @camilagonzalex, @juskz, @antoniorhinothethird, @mariteez, @armystay89, @i-like-nougat, @yeonjunsfox, @laylasbunbunny ,@uwuitsjungwoo , @3racha-soup , @bandolls , @bomi-ja , @skzfairyyyf8te , @3rachababygirl , @symptoms-of-moonlight , @hiddlestandom , @stay-fr0sty-r0yal-milk-tea , @8rach4, @bear8585 , @tenshimara , @galamxy, @fairlylilo , @skzms, @lolareadsimagines , @lillithathecat , @manuosorioh , @jazziwritesthings , @soulsbbg , @tuskaruska , @emmxxsworld , @maaatyroshka , @orchid-mantis-petals , @thisrandomgoofy15 ,

[kamaela]

To Be Punished (M, 1k)

Fic by me

I wrote a fic for a discord challenge: Outsider POV. Read below or on AO3

Tags:

POV Outsider, Major Character Death, Draco Malfoy in Azkaban, Angst and Tragedy, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Auror Harry Potter, Sad Ending

Summary:

An Azkaban guard bears witness to Draco and Harry and all that stands between them.

***

Inmate #227: D. Malfoy. High Risk. 24-hour guard. No visitors.

Don’t interact with the inmate. That was one of the first things she’d been told during training. She was to stand guard, silent and alert. She was not to engage.

—

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Harry Potter spat. He was angrier than she’d ever seen him in the papers.

He wasn’t a visitor. He was here on ‘official Auror business.’

Malfoy lay in his cot, staring at the ceiling. He’d been that way since he’d arrived, straight from his trial. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb. I was there!” The wards stretching between them shuddered.

“I’m not sure why you’re asking me about it, then.”

“I want to know why. We had a plan. You didn’t just stray from it, you blew it up. With wandless fucking magic!”

Malfoy sat up, turned. “They insulted her! You know how I—I couldn’t control it.”

“They’re gonna use this to jack up your sentence. All that work we did—”

—

Malfoy’s sentencing hearing lasted no more than 15 minutes. Two Aurors escorted him back to his cell. Harry Potter, pale and unsteady, wasn’t far behind.

“Draco, I—”

“Twenty years,” Malfoy said. His voice shook.

“It’s okay, I’m going to fix this. I’m gonna get Hermione and I—we’re gonna fix this.”

Malfoy laughed. “You’re an idiot, Potter.”

—

Harry Potter visited every few weeks. Today, he vibrated with fevered enthusiasm. She watched his steps as he paced in front of the cell.

“There’s heaps of evidence of corruption, not just in the Wizengamot. With the right angle, Hermione thinks we can build a really strong case. Maybe—Draco, are you listening to me?”

“No.”

—

“No luck?” Malfoy was leaning against the wall, picking his nails. He seemed unconcerned, but she knew better. He’d paced in his cell right up to the minute Harry had stepped through the door.

“I don't know why you're so smug about it.”

“Even the Boy Who Lived can't save the poor teenage Death Eater.”

Harry ran the toe of his boot along the stone floor.

“Twenty years Draco. I'm not sure I can—”

“I'm not asking you to.”

—

“I dreamt about that night on the rooftop, when we—”

“Oh.” A small private smile flickered across Harry’s face.

She started to wonder if it really was Auror business he was here for.

“I think you should stop coming by, Harry.”

—

It had been a few months, but Harry came back. It seemed he couldn’t keep away.

Draco’s voice was sharp. “What are you doing here, I told them I didn't want—”

“I paid off the guards.”

A scoff. “Of course.”

Harry stepped closer to the barrier. “You look—have you been sleeping?”

Draco laughed, shifting his gaze to her as if they shared an inside joke.

—

“They agreed to a hearing,” Harry exclaimed.

She hadn’t seen Draco get out of his cot for 72 hours. Today was no exception.

“Well, aren't you pleased?” Harry prompted.

“I have no feelings about it one way or another.”

—

“I saw Mother last night.” Draco’s eyes were puffy. Her colleague had said he’d been crying all night.

“Oh.”

“This place, Harry. I need to get out.”

Harry tugged his maroon robes.

“I'm so sorry. They upheld the decision.”

Draco put his head in his hands.

—

“I saw Mother again. He was there, too.”

“I'm sorry. Let's talk about something happy.”

“Happy?”

“Christmas. At The Manor? You remember, we tried to make gingerbread?”

A soft chuckle, “Oh yes, that was…”

—

“I can’t stop the dreams. I could never—the only time they stopped was when we—”

“I know,” Harry rested his forehead against the barrier. “Gods, I wish I could hold you.”

The dementors were gone, but the infection they’d left behind was vicious. She wondered if she should log an incident report. Nightmares were an early sign.

—

Draco had been pacing and muttering for hours before Harry arrived.

“Draco.”

“I’ve still got that twelve inch charms essay to finish.”

“Draco, it’s me. Harry.”

Draco kept pacing.

“Will you look at me?”

Draco did. “I miss you.”

—

“Mother visited last night,”

“Oh really?”

“She says hello.”

“Well, that’s nice of her.”

—

“Harry, I keep seeing him. I keep—I don’t want to go back there.”

“I know.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know. It’s okay. I’m gonna fix this.”

She felt it was rather unfair of Harry to give him false hope.

—

“We’re going to keep trying, I’m not giving up.”

“It’s okay, Harry.”

A strangled sound. “No. Don’t—”

“At least we got those months. That’s more than I ever…” Draco pressed a hand against the barrier, and the gesture seemed like a declaration.

“Don’t,” Harry whispered, a plea.

—

“I wish we’d had more time,” Harry said.

Draco laughed.

“Draco, what are you—”

“They took away my bedframe. I have no sheets.” He kept laughing.

—

Draco’s hair was matted. He’s been refusing to shower.

“Potter, what are you doing? You can't be here.”

“Draco—”

“He’ll be here any second. My Aunt, she called him—”

“We’re not at—”

“No! Harry, you have to get out. You have to win. Please. Go.”

“Okay, Draco. I’ll go.”

Harry hadn’t let her see him cry, until then.

—

“Harry.” Draco sat pressed right up against Harry, touching, if not for the magic weaved between them. “I’m not sure I can keep doing this.”

“I know.” Harry’s voice was small, kind. “I won’t ask you to.”

“In a different life, do you think—” Draco’s face crumpled. She had to look away.

Harry rubbed his eyes repeatedly. “Yes, love. In any life.”

—

He wasn’t a next-of-kin, nor a registered visitor, so he hadn't been notified.

He arrived as usual, glasses askew.

She hadn’t been trained for this.

“Mr. Potter.”

“Where is he? Have you moved him?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

His green eyes dulled as he collapsed onto the floor. She wondered then, as the hero’s sobs rent the air, who this place punished more.

[themagicbrew]

everyone! Meet Utrom.

The original traitor. The first defender of earth.

You may be able to read more about him Below. (side note: some things in my previous posts may be reconned)

(edit: sorry about any of the spelling and grammar errors)

Assigned Name: Utrom

Age: Uknown

Gender: Unknown (Queergender)

sexuality: Pansexual (poly)

Current occupation: Part-time nature conservationist, full-time tourist. (formerly) Rebel leader and Kraang surveillance scout

personality summary: Utrom is a jovial charismatic bundle of love, who cares deeply for the world around him and is burdened by his past. He continues to learn and grow for centuries, wishing to right his wrongdoings. He is a strict pacifist, however, Utrom is still capable of intimidating others when needed. Think of him as the fun laidback uncle of Earth! (for the most part)

Backstory!

Pre-Rebellion:

Utrom started out as any other Kraang, born on planet primordial and raised to be a soldier for their glorious empire. He was by no means, a cut above the rest. Utrom was just another nameless soldier- another cog in the machine

He (just like any other member of his species) took pride in what he was. Despite his big hulking figure, Utrom served as a surveillance scout for the empire. His occupation was to scout out planets prior to the oncoming conquest. He would study various things like the enemies' ecosystem, culture and technological advancements. Utrom had a deeper fascination- perhaps, even a hidden admiration for other lifeforms but not to the extent where he’d feel remorse for aiding in their complete genocide. 

Unlike most Kraang, Utrom would acknowledge to some degree his enemies were capable of outwitting them- though he knew no creature could ever overpower the might of kraang, Utrom also knew blindly underestimating their prey would have consequences.

This was not a common ideal, even for scouts like him. 

His comrade. The one assigned to aid him on all his missions. Kraang2. Had a completely different set of ideals, ones that were more aligned with the common kraang soldier. They were polar opposites in many ways BUT- their differences were what forged their strong bond. 

Utrom had even developed deep romantic feelings towards Krang2 but due to the culture they live in. Recognising or understanding such complicated emotions was nearly impossible. From his perspective, Kraang2 was his comrade and nothing more.

Sure, he liked the way She’d slaughter their foes or how she’d recklessly jump into battle without a thought or- even the quiet moments where they talked about climbing the ranks together but, She was just a comrade. Nothing more. 

Utrom never knew why but Kraang1 (2’s elder brother) did not trusted him. He didn’t understand what warranted such specific hostility directed his way. Utrom never made the connection that his close friendship with 2 may have been the root of it. Kraang1 never outwardly showed his concern for his younger siblings, especially in front of others. Kraang1 was also a higher-ranking member of the empire, he is considered a prodigy to General Chre’ll. 

He would abuse his authority over Utrom, singling him out from other soldiers for petty reasons.

To describe dynamic in the simplest of terms: they are like petty coworkers. a lot of their interactions would range from passive aggression to straight-up hostility or (more commonly) strained professionalism.

Utrom, being a lower rank could not bite back- otherwise, he'd be met with severe punishment. The abuse he undergo was something normalised within their society. Utrom would quietly question The kraang as a whole, however, his doubts would be buried. His head 6ft deep under the propaganda he was raised upon.

He was a soldier, meant to aid the empire's glorious crusade. To keep the natural order of things. the strong will devour the weak.

Utrom's betrayal/rebellion:

Names are important things within their culture. They are symbols that are achieved, rather than a title given upon birth.

Typically, a kraang would earn their Name after ascending the ranks and becoming a general however, a name can be earned through other means...more importantly, earning a name isn't always a good thing within the kraang.

Planet Earth was meant to be Kraang1's first conquest. Think of it as a crowning, one where Kraang1 would assert himself in the empire as "General Prime" (after a successful invasion.)

So what exactly happened?

Utrom, someone who was never seen far from kraang2's side- working in tandem- Was tasked with scouting out earth, alone. He was no position to question Kraang1's decision as per usual and thus, remained silent.

Once Utrom arrived on Earth (landing in Japan during the Heian period.) He went through the usual motions, Examining and collecting data. However, during this time- without his beloved comrade to distract him, his doubts began to take hold.

It was then he met a Sōhei, one who was unafraid of Utrom. Normally, when an enemy discovers him- Utrom was quick to kill but.. this time, he didn't.

the Sōhei fascinated him. They had simply struck up a conversation and even in that moment, they had hit a personal cord with Utrom. With words alone, he began to wonder- his doubts beginning to unearth.

So he did something he'd never thought he'd do.

Utrom began to befriend the enemy. He learned many things with the Sōhei and eventually, other humans too. A whole new world of opportunity had opened up to him, one that he'd never considered if he was with the kraang.

All of this was done under the Kraang's (metaphorical) nose.

Utrom saw how imperfect the empire was, thanks to the help of his human friends. Yet, he wanted others to see it too. Utrom wanted his fellow comrades to know, that there was more to life then blood and conquest.

He began to orchestrate an entire rebellion, gathering kraang from lower ranks to rise up and defend Earth. Kraang2 was the first to know about this but opposed the idea. Yet she remained silent, thinking that Utrom would come back to his "senses" (which he never did.)

This rebellion was how Utrom earned his name. Once word got out about a traitorous scout, he was 'branded' and named Utrom.

However, this act would lead more kraang to aid Utrom. He was a normal loyal soldier like they were, if he had the courage to fight authority then perhaps they could too?

This lead to a full on Battle on earth. The rebels and humans were getting decimated, despite everything- they were losing to the kraang.

Til the very last second, the human friends pulled out a piece of precious kraang tech. One built by a rebel and meant to seal in the kraang....and perhaps the rebels too.

Utrom knew this and allowed this, knowing that he too may be sealed as well.

Once the Key was unleashed, the battle was over in an instance.

Utrom somehow managed to avoid being sealed into the prison dimensions along with only a small handful of rebels left. The rest were sucked into the prison dimension where they'll no doubt, meet their demise.

This... Affected utrom in many ways he never thought it would. Unsure what to do with himself. He gifted the Key to one of his human friends.

The lost of kraang2 cut him deeply... Now stranded on earth, all he can do is heal and live a new life.

Post-betrayal

Utrom spent his first century on earth within Japan, living closely with the Sōhei he trusted so dearly. He had vowed to become a pacifist after the war, which was a tough journey for Utrom.

He had lived his whole life as a soldier. War was the only thing he knew but with help from his Human friends. Utrom managed.

Eventually, one by one his friends would pass on. Their lives were so much shorter than his.

He than decided too travel across earth. learning from humans without involving themselves in their conflict. Utrom would spend many centuries attempting to conserve the planet's ecosystem, socialising with humans and more importantly, trying to forget kraang2

Fast forward to present day

Utrom received word from the E.p.f that there was a failed invasion within NYC and that his presence is required. He was horrified to know, that he'd be helping with Kraang2 interrogation.

He did not work for them, serving more so as a "kraang consultant" due to his former role as a rebel leader. Yet, given that this was his old comrade, he felted the need to stay.

Now Utrom is trying hard to undo the damage that she and her brothers have caused.

Triva:

Utrom voiceclaim is Keith david (x)

Utrom likes telling stories about his time on earth. His antics with vary but all of them bizarre in their own special way. Utrom is essentially one big history book. A living artifact.

Utrom begins to keep an eye on those involved in NYC's invasion. Whether they be good or bad.

He struggles with being a pacifist, even til this very day. He often worries about snapping at someone since he's constantly aware of his strength.

Utrom great with dealing other peoples emotions however, closes himself off from his own feelings. He feels responsible for everything that had happen and is trying hard to 'fix' everything.

He still retains strong romantic feelings towards kraang2 and will continue to visit her once The E.p.f efforts in finding her brothers prove to be fruitless. (biggest simp in all the galaxy)

[clangenrising]

Month 11 - Leafbare

Aldertail’s legs were more raw than they had been in a long time. She knew she shouldn’t lick them, she knew it wasn’t right, but every time she thought about the news - that another house cat was dead - she fell into a panic and the only thing that seemed to help was going over her pelt a few more times. Now not only her front legs but her hind legs and her back had patches of missing fur that grew dry and raw in the arid air of Leafbare. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” Oddstripe fretted as he examined her new sores. “We’ll have you feeling better soon enough.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, holding very still, “I just can’t stop myself. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“You’re sick,” grumbled Sagetooth. “It’s not a failing to cough when you’re ill. That’s all this is.” She snapped a root in half and began to chew it into a poultice. Aldertail recognized the smell as burdock, one of the several treatments she’d been given for her sores before. 

“I don’t feel sick,” she said dumbly. 

“Remember, sweetheart,” Oddstripe said gently and Aldertail blushed, “ it’s not a sickness you feel, it’s a sickness in your mind.” 

“Right…” she frowned. Maybe that was the reason she’d been marked as Chaff. The Folk could tell that her mind was broken. What use was a cat with a broken mind? Sagetooth spat the burdock mixture out with a grimace and pushed the leaf it was on over to Oddstripe, then fixed Aldertail with a scowl that made her want to squirm. 

“Look at me,” she said. Aldertail sat up straighter and nodded. Sagetooth continued, “I’ll have no more moping about this, you understand? It’s not your fault you’re sick. You’re not bad for being ill. In fact, if you’re sick for the rest of your life, that would be fine. Do you understand?” 

Aldertail nodded instinctively. “I-I think so?” 

Sagetooth gave a dissatisfied “Hmph!” and continued to stare her down. 

“Oh, I think your tone is maybe confusing her, Sagetooth,” Oddstripe said, taking Aldertail’s leg in one paw so he could spread poultice up her leg. Once he had his bearings, he looked up to meet her gaze with a soft smile. “You’re not in trouble. What Sagetooth is trying to say is this is normal and it’s okay if you’re sick because that doesn’t change how much we care about you.” Sagetooth grumbled but didn’t contradict him, instead wandering off into the back of the den. Aldertail glanced in her direction, then back to Oddstripe, then down at the ground. She didn’t know why such a kindly stare made her feel so miserable. 

Oddstripe sighed slightly but continued to apply the poultice. “Have you been extra worried lately?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, glancing back up. “Aren’t you?”

Oddstripe’s lips flattened into a thin line for a moment and he glanced over his shoulder in Sagetooth’s direction. “I am worried about my boys, I’ll admit. But I have a feeling that’s not why you’re worried.” 

“I just…” Aldertail shifted uncomfortably, wishing she could groom her legs. “We’re all going to die. Me especially.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Oddstripe said. 

“Your warriors killed one of the Exalted!” Aldertail hissed fearfully. “They killed my brother for doing the same thing. And his mate. And my sister. And they wanted to kill me. Razor won’t stop until all of us are punished!” Oddstripe shifted uncomfortably, looking solemn. 

He sighed, switched to her other leg, and said, “That is a frightening thought, but I have faith in Goldenstar to keep us safe. StarClan will look out for us.” 

“StarClan…” Aldertail repeated. “Remind me which one that is?” She tried to picture the cats who had rallied in their camp the week before.

“StarClan are the spirits of the dead,” Oddstripe smiled down at his work. “They know things we can’t and they guide us from the stars.”

“So, magic?” asked Aldertail. 

“Yes,” Oddstripe nodded with a little laugh. “This time it really is magic.” 

Aldertail considered that. As powerful as the Folk were, they didn’t share their power with cats, at least not outside of social power. If the Clans had magic on their side, maybe there was a chance they could defeat Razor.

“Can they help us fight?” she asked.

“They rarely help in such a physical way,” Sagetooth said, stomping back over to them with a bundle of thyme leaves in her jaws. “Instead, they give us guidance and help us make the choices that lead to victory. For instance, they told us to attack on the night of the snow storm and in doing so we drove the rogues out and they haven’t returned since.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re not coming back,” Aldertail whined. “Has StarClan said anything else? Have they told you what to do?” The idea felt like something sturdy to hold onto, the idea that magic ghosts could give them all of the answers. If they just did what StarClan said, maybe everything would be alright.

“Not yet,” Sagetooth said. “But they will, in time.” She started separating the bundle of thyme into two piles. 

“Can we ask them?” Aldertail said as Oddstripe moved on to her back. “There’s a way to talk to them, isn’t there?”

“There is,” Sagetooth said, “but we can’t just demand they give us all the answers. Part of the test is making choices for ourselves.” 

“The test?” Aldertail squeaked. She hadn’t known she was being tested!

“The test of life,” Sagetooth clarified. “What would be the point of living if someone just gave us all the answers?” 

“I-I don’t know,” Aldertail shrugged. “Finding peace?” 

“Finding peace wouldn’t be meaningful without chaos,” Sagetooth shook her head. “Joy wouldn’t exist without pain. StarClan gives us trials and misfortunes so we can learn from them and fully appreciate the blessings in our lives.” 

“Okay, sorry,” Aldertail mumbled, realizing she had been speaking out of turn. 

“It’s fine,” Sagetooth sighed. “You’re learning. Now here, chew these for as long as you can before swallowing.” She pushed a bundle of thyme towards Aldertail who took a deep breath of the aromatic scent. It seemed to grab her and pull her thoughts into focus for a moment. Obediently, she leaned down, took the leaves into her mouth, and focused on chewing them as finely as she could. As she did, she started to feel her breath coming easier and her mind clearing. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled around her mouthful.

“Happy to help, dear,” Sagetooth said, offering a rare smile. Aldertail closed her eyes and focused on the herbs, on their smell and the texture of the leaves as it changed between her teeth. By the time Oddstripe was nearly finished with her hind legs, she swallowed and took a deep breath, the smell of thyme still thick on her tongue. 

“Good girl,” Sagetooth nodded. “Now, the burdock root should start numbing your sores soon enough. Be careful not to lick it off or your tongue might go numb too. Besides, you’ll get a stomach ache if you ingest too much of it.” 

Aldertail paled a little. “I’ll try,” she said weakly. That was going to be tricky.

“Oh,” Oddstripe frowned. “We can put cobwebs over them if necessary.” 

“No,” Sagetooth said firmly. “That’s a waste of supplies and who knows, a numb tongue might get her to finally kick the habit.” Oddstripe met Aldertail’s eyes sympathetically. Aldertail nodded, offering a smile as best she could. It was like a punishment. If she messed up and licked her legs, she’d get a nasty surprise and, hopefully, that would teach her a lesson. That felt right. 

“You’re good to go,” Sagetooth said, bundling up the rest of the thyme. “Keep your tongue away from your legs, you hear?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Aldertail nodded. 

“You can get someone to help you groom your pelt if that helps,” continued Sagetooth.

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Oddstripe said. “Let me know if you ever need help with that, okay?” 

“Alright,” Aldertail nodded again and stood to leave. As she did, her tail brushed up against something feather light and startled her. She turned around, fur bristling, to find a dead moth. 

“Oh, sorry about that,” Oddstripe said, “Barleypaw brought me that this morning. I’m not sure what to do with it, to be honest.” 

“You can’t just leave it around,” Sagetooth huffed. “Just get rid of it. She’ll never know.” 

“It’s so pretty though,” Aldertail said, tilting her head to admire the little trinket. 

“Here!” Oddstripe said, reaching towards the moth. Very carefully, he pulled the wings from the moth and then reached up to tuck them behind one of Aldertail’s ears. She blushed again, holding very still as he did, then tried to look at them without turning her head which proved impossible. 

“I saw Blazingbrush wearing cicada wings like that,” he said. “She’s one of the other healers.” Sagetooth huffed under her breath as she headed back to return the thyme to the stores. 

“Do they look alright?” Aldertail asked, still unable to look at them. 

“Oh, they look beautiful on you,” he said. Aldertail bit her lip and swallowed.

“Um, thank you,” she whispered shyly. 

“Don’t mention it,” purred Oddstripe, seemingly unaware of how he was affecting her. “Let me know if you need me to help you groom your pelt okay?” She nodded mutely and he turned and went back into the den with a little smile. 

Aldertail headed out into the snow. He had called her beautiful. No one had ever called her beautiful before, at least not genuinely like that. She decided she needed to find a reflection and see for herself. As she headed out of camp, Branchbark and Ospreymask passed with mouths full of fish and smiled in her direction.

“Aldertail!” Ospreymask squealed, dropping her catch. “I love the moth wings!” 

“Really?” she asked, blushing again. 

“Yes! Oh my stars, you look amazing sweetie!” 

Branchbark chuckled and gave a nod of agreement, then pushed the fish Ospreymask had dropped in her direction. She rolled her eyes and picked them up again, the two passing to head towards the fresh-kill pile. 

Aldertail bounded out of camp, feeling all bubbly inside. Was she pretty? She had always assumed that people were lying when they’d complimented her. She knew how she looked, she knew she was ugly and broken and stupid. Or… she had known. Now she wasn’t sure. She quickly made her way over to the closest stream to investigate. As she approached, she held her breath, wanting to believe what they had said was true. 

Her face swam into view in the chilly stream. She let out her breath, disappointed. She was still herself. She still had the same dull brown fur and ugly, scabby legs, the same unflattering wrinkle permanently affixed between her eyebrows. 

The moth wings looked nice though… She tilted her head back and forth, admiring them from different angles. She wasn’t as thin, she realized. Her cheeks had filled out, her pelt hung more neatly on her bones. She was sleeker, even, with a shine to her fur that only Exalted cats seemed to maintain in the city. Maybe, she reasoned, she wasn’t pretty yet, but she wasn’t ugly anymore. 

She smiled, touched by the thought, and decided to go looking for herbs like Oddstripe had taught her. She needed to thank him for his lovely gift.

UPDATES:

- Aldertail starts wearing moth wings behind her ear.

[goodoldfashionlovercorpse]

Soul Love

pairing: Luke Castellan x daughter of Loki! reader

summary: No matter what she turned into, blood was always thicker than water. Luke, however, saw her for more than she did.

a/n: hello! this is part one. i thought there weren't enough loki kid! readers, so i started this. comments and reblogs are appreciated. have a nice day :)

warnings: implied ED, daddy issues, angst, etc.

Camp wasn’t made for her. She knew this, others showed it. A daughter of Loki did not belong at a camp for greek demigods. Despite how inviting “Camp Half-blood” maybe seem by name, it was exclusive to Greeks. Unless you want to end up in the Hermes cabin, and Y/N knew that she’d rather her brothers tear her limb by limb than ever stay there again.Well, there is one way she’d stay.  Luke Castellan. Not only was he a son of Hermes, but he was the best swordsman in 300 years.

And yet he looked at her with nothing but love, as if Aphrodite shot an arrow at him herself. He made continuous efforts to include her. When she sat alone outside of the Dining Pavilion, it took the boy mear seconds to accompany her – despite the chants at his home table.

“Hey, how’s dinner going?”

“It’s going…” She played with her food, fearing it a little yet still trying to take bites. She sighed so deep it became its own form. Nothing but gloom and gray sat behind those eyes. Isolation seemed to be her only friend aside from Luke. He was so much more than her; he was a hero and she’s doomed by the narrative. Forced to know not even nuclear warfare could end this world before her father. Yet he understood what he did not know.

“Your hair is turning to snakes. Wanna try again?”

Damn it. “No.”

He poked her continuously. Setting his plate down, he waited – like a predator to its prey – until she finished eating. He knew better than to make her meals more miserable than she already felt, so he sat there waiting for the other plate to empty. Grace wasn’t the sole word he could use for her. Even in a state of distress, she looked as if the love-gods  handcrafted her and brought her to life. Unfortunately, the doom of her destiny haunted her mirror. Despite her father and her being shapeshifters, there was always a piece of him in every shape she became.

The pavillion was as loud as the wind, yet Luke and her were as quiet as the moon. Should she say everything she wants or just leave it be? Her father was never one to tell the truth, especially when he said “i love you.” Saying those words with his blood flowing through her veins felt like a crime. A punishful lie. The cries of cousins burning her at the stake. At some points she’d feel ashamed for her pride. Why should she be proud to be his daughter? He has done nothing but try to end the world. He wished nothing but awful things to his children – she is not the exception.

Despite her father being a horrible being, she was his favorite child. She represented everything he was: chaos incarnate. She didn’t pick sides; even if her best friend went to war, she’d stand in between, only adding fuel to the fire. Her dad wasn’t evil, yet he wasn’t good either. He passed his neutrality onto his daughter, then tortured her for it, only to then aid her. Her. Not her siblings, just her. Loneliness and regret filled her for this, but Samirah and Alex never blamed her.

Yet seeing the pure loathing some campers held for their siblings made her uneasy. They hated their parents, yet it was obvious they are their children. They hold the same opinions, never critique their actions, always knowing one story – the Hero’s story.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when Luke held her hand as he looked into her eyes. Those eyes. Oh, those eyes… the things they do to her and her soul. Those brown eyes held layers of her regrets and so little judgement. He knew every detail of her mind, even what she did not want him to know. War, Valhalla, Loki, Camp, all of it. He knows all of it. Still, love courses through his eyes. She thinks she’s delusional.

While Luke may accept her, he still doesn’t know every single thing. He knew all, except her part in Ragnarok. Odin didn’t owe her anything, neither did she owe him; she also wasn’t on her father’s side, she knew better than Calypso. Instead, she will stand back and get rid of either side. Destiny wasn’t her favorite thing, it was her greatest detest. No way to undo it, no way to fast-forward it.

Luke wouldn’t leave her be, his eyes showed that he’d follow wherever she’d go. He’d meet her where the spirit meets the bone. “Have i ever told you how well the moon suits you?” Goosebumps raised her skin like a cat. He knew what she thought, yet he knew better than to discuss it out here. He knew all her thoughts, as if he knew her soul once upon a dream.

Before either utter a word, Luke smiled, genuinely. it was the kind of beam nothing could rival. “I apologise if i haven’t, you truly are lovely under the light.” he bit his tongue, aching to comfort her and defend her. It was too early, too much. She was impaled by her the venom in her veins, a feeling he knew all too well. The boy couldn’t complain, though. Although he held distaste for his father, he had learned to forgive and make amends.

He trusted his father when he said "i love you." She never had the option to believe her's. War was all that he’d given her, but war was not love; his father didn't start one, her's claimed it was his love. Even Ares and Athena knew it in their cold, golden blood. A moment of quiet passed through the sand. “I’m sorry that-”

“Do you ever think of Death?” she perked her head towards him, staring deeply into his eyes. Constellations and worlds resided in them. Whatever girl he has is lucky to have him, she thought. Silent prayers hung at her lips like the Gardens of Babylon.

The question was raw. Was he going to really answer it? Should he finish this question?

“I mean, Love and Death are a lot closer than one might think.” He stared at her, willing to listen to her every word even if she was describing a plan to murder him limb from limb. “Not everyone loves death, yet death craves love. To be forgotten – to be completely unloved is to die forevermore. Love adores death, loss gives value to what we hold dear. Orpheus already held dangerous levels of love for Euridice, her death increased his awareness. When she died again, she felt so much love for him, knowing she’d never be forgotten. She lived eons because death and love are adaptive. They feed off of each other. Death is never truly the end, the end is being forgotten. Forever lost in the sands. Never to be loved again.”

Behind her eyes, Luke saw her thoughts. He felt them like bullets on his skin, one so deep you couldn’t mistake it. She looked at the stars not knowing she was one.

Death was valuable to her for other reasons, but she ran from it. Ran from her own hair. Why? He wondered. Valhalla loved her, yet his bones knew that they wouldn’t once a grave had her name engraved. Gods were Luke’s enemy for a while. Still, the boy holds resentment over them. Heavy resentment. Y/n, though? Her father wanted her dead. At least Greek Half-bloods get to have a count down, Norse ones just die. No monsters, just their parents and humans. Monsters are her family; howling behind the barrier are her brothers, willing to take her life.

Perhaps he took for granted his dad sometimes. Even though Hermes started to get involved now, he assured Luke that he would’ve been a father to him sooner had he could. Not once did Hermes go after him or bullied him, only to praise him and aid him in the depths of his mental illness. Hermes may not be the best, but he was certainly not the worse. Luke could never imagine what the Norse gods are like: the children of Thor didn’t pray to  him, Odin was barely present — they didn’t even build a camp to ignore their kid, they just let them die.

Chaos followed every demi-god, special the Norse ones, mainly the children of Loki. He was neither good nor evil. Y/n prefaced this during all their talks. To him, Loki was pure evil; but to the most gorgeous creature on earth, he was her father.

Trickery was infused into her soul, unable to leave even if she bore red liquid like a fountain in Greece. Death was her escape, her only vice — yet now her views have change since the moment they met. Life is her, she is life; she adorns his world in her heart. But somehow he still felt so… Powerless. He was utterly powerless when it came to her heritage. She’d accepted it so quickly. Completely unfazed that she had this burden.

Meanwhile, he still had trouble facing his dad. Sure, all has been resolved and war has been evaded, but that’s only for the Greek demigods. His family is, for the most part, alive. But her? Her mom and dad are no where near, her father is out to either kill her or train her, and she’s already suffered the loss of a sister – a loss she dares not repeat.

“That was too much, wasn’t it? It’s not virtuous to praise death. But in this world, what else is there?

“Maybe you’re right. Or, maybe, we can talk about shows, or the gods, or even us.”

“Us?”

Luke swallowed his spit, trying hard not to sweat. Nodding, he looked at the sky. “Us.” He smiled warmly, making the air smells like honey and roses, “my favorite song is Soul Love by Bowie.”  He didn’t have to turn around to see her face, the warmth of her excitement felt like enough. She was already more than enough.

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie Ghost Story (Chapter Nine)

Summary: Her scent was sharp, even beneath the layers of clothes, grime, and the guts he’d already slathered her in. Floral and sweet and musky in a way that made the primal part of him let out a deep, satisfied growl. He’d wanted so badly to taste her in that moment. He’d dive between her legs and lick her to completion over and over again, make her come on his tongue until she was sobbing from pleasure. He’d eat her out like she was his last meal—he’d devour her perfect little pussy whole. Word Count: 4337 Warnings: still no smut but some suggestive thoughts/actions, descriptions past abuse, internalized victim blaming/misogyny Notes: I had to rewrite this chapter about a dozen times, so I hope y'all like it XD. All dividers were made by @/sweetmelodygraphics (original post here). The zombie divider indicates the text below is Ghost's POV, the dove divider inidcates Lelia's POV. The combined dove and zombie divider represents a time skip but not a POV change. I still have no beta for this fic so all SPAG and consistency errors are my own, feel free to point them out. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! AO3, Masterlist

It was five days since they’d left the town, and Lelia was cold.

She was cold, and hungry, and tired, and miserable. She regretted ever leaving the town. She regretted ever leaving the cabin.

She did not regret leaving the military base.

Had she not left, she would still be tiptoeing around Andrew’s volatile temper, just waiting for him to lose it and wrap his hands around her throat again in a fit of rage. Before the dead had started walking, he’d liked to suffocate her with water. He’d catalog her every mistake throughout the day, and if she couldn’t appease him by nighttime, then the second they were alone, he’d drag her into their en-suite and force her to her knees by the bath. He’d sit on the edge of the tub, a hand in her hair as she kneeled beside it, and make her watch as it filled up to the rim. Then, he’d shove her head under, holding it there for however long he deemed she deserved as punishment. Sometimes it was only a few seconds, just enough to terrify her. Other times he held her under until she passed out. It didn’t matter. Lelia hated any pool of water larger than a puddle, now. Following that stream with Simon all those weeks again had been hell—she'd been on the edge of a panic attack the entire time.

It was so bad that Lelia couldn't even stand the sound of running water anymore. She knew she was disgusting for it, but she was secretly relieved they hadn’t found a working shower yet. That she’d had to make do with rags wet with water from her slim stash of bottles. She’d only wiped her whole body down once because of rationing, but she did the sweaty areas every few days. It was gross—but it was also such a relief. She didn't think she could take a shower even if they found one. And she didn't want to deal with the inevitable questioning grunts from Simon if she refused.

After the apocalypse had started, and Andrew had realized he didn’t need to hide his violence against her anymore, he'd started choking her the old fashioned way instead. Sometimes in front of people. It had been humiliating and painful, but less scary than the near-drownings. He no longer spent time building it up and striking the fear of God into her every time he punished her. He just snapped, grabbed her by the throat and squeezed as he shook her like a rag doll. His once cunning and calculating cruelty had devolved into unstable fits of rage as his new reality wore on him. She wondered if he got worse after she left and he could no longer take her rations or trade her body for half a bottle of whiskey. She wondered if he finally gave up and killed himself. She hoped he did.

Lelia tried not to complain to Simon about things of importance. Things she knew he wished he could fix for her but couldn’t. Groaning about her horrid, mismatching outfits or not being able to pluck her eyebrows was humorous to him—but whining about the cold or their dwindling supply of food just made him feel guilty. She didn't want him to feel guilty. He was the only reason she was alive.

He was the only person to ever make her truly happy.

She hadn't quite realized it at first, how much she enjoyed being around Simon. But in retrospect, it was obvious.

Even though he couldn’t respond, he always listened to her, no matter what she was talking about. Even if she was rambling about the history of fashion and the link between trends and current events. He would make appropriate noises at all the right times, consistently sounding interested even though he probably wasn't.

He brought her that feather, too, just because he thought it would make her smile, clearly having picked up on her love for animals. No one had given her such a thoughtful present since Ulyana had gifted her her poetry book, all those years ago. It was far more than just a feather, to her.

And Simon was so gentle with her. When they hugged, or held hands—both of which they had started to do more often, since that night in the study—he held her like glass, like he was afraid she would break if he squeezed too hard. With his strength, she probably would. And after a life in which physical contact was rare, and then frequent but always painful, his soft, affectionate touch was like a drug to her. Both healing and addictive.

It didn't matter to her that his hands were cold and he still smelled vaguely like death, regardless of how many times she cleaned him. She found herself wanting to be near him constantly. Waking up in the morning, excited to see him. Seeking his approval in everything she did. Trying to make him laugh, or the skin around his sunken eyes crinkle with a smile.

It was the apocalypse, and yet Lelia was happier than she had ever been in her life. And it was all because of Simon.

Except for right then, when he was being an absolute arse and trying to cover her with zombie guts. She knew they were behind schedule—worryingly so—but she would much rather backtrack a day's walk and try a new route than cover herself in putrid, rotten flesh and try to sneak through a herd of zombies like an idiot with a death wish.

“You can growl at me all you want; it’s not going to change my mind!” She whisper-yelled, gagging when she caught a whiff of the guts Simon had managed to smear on her before she could stop him. She was now holding him at bay with a very large stick she’d snatched up from the ground. She could see the amusement in his eyes, and she knew very well that her stick was not nearly as effective as she’d like to think. But it made her feel better to have, so she hung onto it. “I like this coat, Simon! It’s Moncler!”

Simon let out a sound that was a mix of a guffawing laugh, a huff of disbelief, and a groan of frustration. He took a lumbering step closer.

Lelia whacked him with the stick.

It was just a light whap on the arm—she knew he didn't feel pain, being dead and all, but she’d still feel guilty if she actually hit him—that wasn’t even hard enough to make a sound. Simon stopped to stare at her nonetheless, and despite not actually being able to see it, she just knew he was looking at her with an expression that said “Really?”

Lelia blushed, but held her ground, notching her chin and adopting her mother's most common look: demanding with an air of perpetual condescension. Like she was already assured that whoever she was glaring at would do whatever she wanted. Lelia could mimic it perfectly, even if she didn't actually feel that way. She hardly ever used it, finding it rude, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Simon just narrowed his eyes in response, though, rather than backing down like she’d hoped he would. It seemed his annoyance had won out, the amusement no longer anywhere to be found. Lightning fast, the stick was ripped from her hands and Simon was in her space, pinning her up against a tree. One of his hands cradled the back of her head, cushioning it so she didn’t get hurt.

Lelia squeaked in shock, eyes wide as she stared into his own. Simon stared back, and then deliberately smeared more zombie guts on the front of her designer puffer jacket.

“Simon!”

Lelia squirmed, trying to wiggle out of the way and spare her poor jacket further desecration, but Simon’s fingers tangled in her hair through the knit of her hat and held on tightly, his large form pressing closer to hers. He leaned in, burying his face in her neck and inhaling deeply, before letting out a low growl and running his gore covered hand up her side.

Lelia’s breath caught in her throat, her heart racing. Her eyes went half-lidded and her limbs turned to jelly, Simon’s body the only thing holding her up. Nerves squirmed low in her belly, and she let out a sound between a whimper and a sigh. Was this a panic attack? Was she afraid? She didn’t feel afraid. But what else could it be? She was unable to move, trapped and helpless like when Andrew or the soldiers would force themselves on her. But instead of terrified or numb, she felt… good? It made no sense. But she found herself upset when Simon stepped away, despite having just been trying to fight him off. Her legs trembled and she barely managed to keep herself from falling to the ground. She blinked at Simon, dizzily watching as he returned to the corpse of the infected he’d killed earlier and began rooting around inside its chest cavity, no doubt for more guts to cover her in, before just deciding to bring the whole nasty thing over. Lelia couldn’t even care about that, though. She was too busy trying to figure out what in the world had just happened.

Simon’s amusement had given way to his frustration when his dove had made it clear she wasn’t going to budge on her stance towards his plan. He understood her reluctance—though the fact that she seemed more concerned about ruining her designer coat than the herd of zombies she’d be wandering into certainly added to his annoyance—but she didn’t seem to understand just how dangerous it would be for her if they were still traveling when the first snow of the season fell. She would freeze to death, he had no doubt about it. And he simply couldn’t let that happen.

So, unwilling to wait any longer, he’d cornered her against a tree and took matters into his own hands. He'd expected her to be annoyed, expected her to be angry, and though he hoped she wouldn’t be, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she was a little afraid. He was still a zombie, after all. There had to be some part of her that wondered if he’d snap, one day.

What he hadn’t expected was arousal.

But he could smell it, clear as day, with his face pressed into the crook of her neck. Her pulse was rabbit quick, her heart beating hard in her chest. Her scent was sharp, even beneath the layers of clothes, grime, and the guts he’d already slathered her in. Floral and sweet and musky in a way that made the primal part of him let out a deep, satisfied growl. He’d wanted so badly to taste her in that moment. He’d dive between her legs and lick her to completion over and over again, make her come on his tongue until she was sobbing from pleasure. He’d eat her out like she was his last meal—he’d devour her perfect little pussy whole.

Ghost ripped himself away from his dove, his hunger only growing when he saw the dazed expression on her face. He’d barely even touched her, and she was halfway to cockdumb already. He wanted to bury himself inside her as he consumed her hot flesh, wanted to watch her fall apart on his cock as he licked her blood from her soft skin—

He quickly lumbered over to the infected’s corpse. He needed to get away from the intoxicating smell of Lelia’s arousal. It had been too long since he’d fed, and his two very different hungers for her were getting mixed up, only making each other worse.

Digging around in its insides, Ghost tried to be rational. Her reaction had to have just been a coincidence, like a random, ill timed stiffy. It couldn't have been because of him—a dead, decayed monster. No one would ever find him appealing again—certainly not a sweet, pretty little dove like her.

And yet.

He couldn’t get the thought out of his head. That she had smelled so sweet because she’d been wet for him, aching to be filled by his cock and bred full of little monsters.

That she’d wanted him, old and dead and revolting as he was.

He was sick for wishing that were true.

Dragging the dead zombie over to her and hoping it would help cover up her smell, he focused on nothing but coating her in its guts. She didn’t protest again, seemingly stuck in her head.

It took several layers of gore to properly disguise her delicious scent, but he managed. He shoved his foul thoughts away and took her small, mittened hand in one of his. Grabbing the wagon handle with the other, he cautiously led her towards the large herd of zombies.

It took them nearly half an hour to get all the way through, and Lelia was shaking by the end, so fiercely she could barely stand. Once they were free of the herd, he led her to a tree stump so she could sit down and recover. He took the chance to put some distance between them—though he could no longer smell her beneath all the gore, she was still beautiful, and he was still ravenous. In every way.

“We smell horrid,” she finally said once she’d calmed down. “I can't eat like this. I'll be sick.”

Ghost grunted. They didn't actually have anything for her to eat—the last can of veg they’d been stretching was gone as of yesterday morning—but he knew that wasn’t really what she meant. And he could hear a river not too far from here… It was out of the way, but only slightly. They could light a fire, and he’d wash her coat and hat while she sat by it to keep her warm. Maybe he would even take the chance to do a full wash again himself, since the cold wouldn't bother him the way it would her.

But first, he needed to hunt.

He’d been trying to put it off until they got to the village, not wanting to leave her alone without four walls and a roof to keep her safe. But he would be a risk to her if he didn’t feed soon, so he led her to a tall pine tree, still thick with dense foliage, and helped her climb it. She was decently obscured, and if she stayed quiet, she would very likely go unnoticed by any survivors that stumbled upon her—though he’d not heard of smelled any nearby, thankfully. The infected were less of a worry—they wouldn’t be able to reach her with how high up she was, and still covered in gore, they likely wouldn't smell her anyway.

At least that’s what he told himself as he reluctantly left her, casting glances back over his shoulder at her tree with every few steps until it was out of sight.

Lelia was on edge the entire time Simon was gone.

It was less than an hour, but every time she heard so much as a branch twitch, she nearly jumped out of her skin. It got so bad that when the sound of leaves crunching underfoot reached her, she fell from her perch with a little scream of fear, sure she was about to die.

Strong arms caught her and held her close, a familiar, concerned groan greeting her. Lelia looked up to see Simon staring down at her, eyes crinkled with worry, face covered in blood. She blushed in embarrassment, heart beating hard in her chest from the adrenaline.

“Thank you,” she said sheepishly. “I, erm, I slipped.”

Simon cradled her more firmly against his chest, letting out a low, displeased grumble that she took to mean I saw or perhaps you need to be more careful. Maybe a combination of the two. Either way, her blush darkened.

Simon set her down gently, unearthing the wagon of supplies from where he’d hidden it under a pile of dead leaves. Lelia watched him, and wondered just how strong he was. She knew she didn't weigh much, as starved as she was, but he'd held her like she was no heavier than a feather. It made her belly squirm with that odd, nervous sensation again, though she didn’t know why. She trusted Simon not to hurt her. She wasn’t afraid of him, not even a little bit. Not since she’d held him as she cried, and she'd realized just how much he trusted her.

“Can we clean ourselves now?” Lelia asked, doing her best not to whine. The smell clinging to her was so horrible that every time she caught a waft of it, she nearly vomited. She’d had to pinch her nose closed and breath through her mouth the whole time she was in the tree—holding onto the trunk with only one hand had certainly contributed to her falling.

Simon grunted in what sounded like agreement, but he didn't hand her a bottle of water from their rapidly diminishing stash—they had been stretching the bottles as much as they possibly could, but there were only two left—and instead began to walk. Lelia frowned but jogged to catch up with him, tugging on his arm.

“Simon, please, I know there's not much left but I can’t stand this,” she complained, feeling justified since he was the one who’d done this to her. She pinched her nose again, voice coming out high pitched and nasally. “I’m going to be sick.”

Simon huffed, but she saw his sunken eyes crinkle a little. Nonetheless, he just kept walking, and so Lelia continued to complain while pretending she was annoying him rather than amusing him.

It was because she was still ranting about him ruining her coat and her appetite that she didn't hear the rushing water until they were nearly upon the river.

The second she saw it—so much deeper than that awful stream she and Simon had followed all those weeks ago—she froze, paling rapidly.

Simon had continued walking, but he stopped when her arm—which she had looped through his shortly into their walk—went rigid, pulling him back. He looked down at her, and then groaned softly, dropping the wagon handle and stepping in front of her and blocking her view of the water.

That snapped her out of her mounting panic, though she was still breathing harshly as she looked up at her zombie with terrified eyes.

“I d-don't want to go in,” she whispered, on the edge of tears. “Please d-don't make me go in…”

Simon cupped her face with his big hands, clumsily rubbing his thumbs over her cheekbones, trying to soothe her. Lelia let out a shuddering sigh, leaning into his cold touch. It was strange that it always made her feel so warm.

A few seconds later, Simon let go in order to point at the river, then at her, and then shake his head so hard his jaw wobbled, teeth clacking against one another loudly. She reached up to steady it, absentmindedly wiping away his drool as she did. He wouldn't force her into the water. Of course he wouldn’t. He wasn’t Andrew.

Simon cradled her face in his hands again for another moment, checking to make sure she was alright, before releasing her. They were still a few metres from the river, and he crouched down, joints popping, and began pulling out the stones, sticks, and matches they used to light a fire. Lelia joined him, helping to set up the little pit like he’d taught her to, and then taking off her mittens so she could expertly light one of their few remaining matches. She’d grown quite practiced over the last week.

As always, Simon praised her with a low, encouraging grunt, and Lelia’s cheeks flushed with pleasure. She liked making him proud. Just like she liked making him laugh. Sometimes she wondered if she saw him as a father figure—he was certainly old enough to be her father—but that didn't feel quite right, though she didn't know why.

Nonetheless, it was times like these that made her wish someone as kind and protective as Simon had been her father. He never would have bartered her off to Andrew for campaign money…

Once the fire was lit, Simon took her overcoat and her hat, plonking his helmet on her head instead. It immediately fell down over her eyes, far too big, and she giggled, tilting her head back so she could see again. Simon was looking down at her, eyes crinkled at the corners, dirty blonde hair shining in the dull winter sun, and in that moment, she saw just how radiant he was. Not how handsome he might have been when he was alive—no. How beautiful he was now, even with his grey skin, sunken eyes, and broken jaw. His missing lips and blackened gums. The mask and the blood covering his face. None of it mattered, she realized suddenly. To her, Simon was perfect, inside and out.

Lelia blushed as she watched Simon turn and head down to the river, heart feeling full as he carefully began to wash her clothes for her. He was so good. So patient and caring. It was a wonder she hadn’t noticed how attractive he was before. She had gotten used to his appearance quickly enough, no longer scared or off put by it by the time they’d reached the town. But she hadn’t found it appealing until now. Part of her wondered if there was something wrong with her for it—he was a zombie, after all—but a larger part of her found the thought ridiculous. There could never be anything wrong about appreciating Simon. He was her friend. Her protector. Her everything, truly. She had nothing else but him, in this world. Just as he had nothing else but her.

Simon returned to where sat by the fire, but only to lay her clothes near the flames to dry. He knocked on the helmet—which still sat on her head, because her ears were quite sensitive to the cold and so leaving them uncovered was simply not an option—and she squawked in protest, making him let out a raspy chuckle. Then, he began to work at the buckles of his tactical vest. His fingers had gotten much less stiff in the last few weeks, but they were still far from nimble, so he was struggling. Lelia swiftly got up, closing the distance between them and lightly swatting his wet hands away so she could take over. He let her with another huff of laughter, and a comfortable silence fell between them as she methodically removed his gear. She stopped when he was left in just his t-shirt and trousers, the quiet turning awkward as they stared at each other for a long moment. Lelia was unsure why Simon wasn’t moving, but she suddenly understood when he let out a rumbly sigh and began to pull off his shirt.

“Oh!” Lelia squeaked, shocked. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him shirtless before—she’d helped him change, back at the cabin—but that was before. Before the sight of his bare, muscular chest and the tattoos adorning it made her belly swoop, the way it had whenever she saw a handsome actor on the telly. She knew she should look away, but she was frozen. There were several scars on Simon’s skin, as well as open, bloodless gashes, ones he’d clearly gotten after turning. She wondered what had caused them—other people, panicking upon seeing him, not realizing he wouldn’t hurt them? Or had it been other zombies? Simon fought them often to keep her safe. Whenever they go too close to their campsite, or when he was clearing a house for them to search… he always made her close her eyes though, so she’d never noticed if they hurt him. She immediately felt guilty.

Simon seemed a little surprised to see her still watching him once his shirt was over his head, and he hesitated at the button on his combat trousers. That snapped Lelia out of her paralyzed state, and she swiftly turned around, stuttering apologies as she did. Simon just huffed a laugh, and a moment later, she heard his heavy steps as he walked away again.

Lelia didn't dare turn around to face the river while he bathed, and she was embarrassed she was even tempted to. It was one thing to find him attractive, even to admire his bare chest—it was another entirely to want to see him naked. That was incredibly improper, absolutely whorish—

You are a whore, a voice in her head that sounded like her mother’s said. Andrew turned you into one far before he made it official by giving you to the sergeants. That’s why you still feel that constant, aching emptiness inside of you. You want to be used. To be stuffed with cock and come, fucked so hard you cry—

Lelia clamped her hands over her ears, knocking Simon’s helmet off, and screwed her eyes shut as she tried to block out the thoughts, shame filling her. She had never enjoyed her time with Andrew or the soldiers, had never wanted what they’d done to her. And yet… a part of her grew increasingly anxious and uncomfortable, every night that went by without something happening. She didn't understand it. Didn’t understand the low, persistent ache in core, an emptiness that used to make her entire body feel hollow but now only seemed to exist between her legs. She should have been relieved not to have to deal with it anymore. To never have to have sex, ever again. But her body was so used to it for so long, that now it seemed to crave it. And against her will, Lelia found herself wondering if Simon could soothe that emptiness too, like he had the one in her chest.

[brabblesblog]

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 9: No hour is ever eternity, but it has its right to weep.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

Astarion and Ban host her parents for dinner.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art from @emy-san

“My mother will pry into everything,” Ban mumbled quietly, “including why we haven’t had any children yet. My father will probably ask about our assets - income, investments, connections, all that drivel.” She wasn’t looking forward to seeing them at all, tonight looming large in her mind, but she knew this would be it - one last time, for closure, and then never again.

They were roaming the grounds; Ban needed to get away from the hustle and bustle of the palace as the staff readied it for guests. It was nowhere near as involved as even their smallest ball - a very small soirée, by comparison; she wasn’t sure if it could even be considered a soirée with only five people in attendance. Regardless, it didn’t require much in the way of preparation, and she knew their staff were capable and well practiced. This was the most nervous she’d been for any event they’d held, however, quadruple-checking every single thing until Astarion had finally dragged her out.

“Gods. Don’t they sound delightful,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Connections? Is it not enough to have the artisan guilds, including his own, in our pocket? Under our very roof?” He paused, rubbing his chin. “On second thought, Roderich would not necessarily be aware of that. He seemed to have rather woefully failed to keep abreast of current events.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The shop.” He looked at her, thoughtful. “It was worn, dusty and quite unlike how I’d expect someone of his proclivities to treat their ‘pride and joy’.”

This much was true. She’d seen the dilapidated exterior, the dinginess inside, neither of which would’ve been tolerated before she’d left.

“And what of your brother? Any snide remarks I should expect from him?” Astarion huffed a little, glancing up at the sky; it looked rather dull for midday, an unfortunate sign of possible rain.

“He’s likely to hate me for leaving the family,” Ban remarked, “more accurately, he’ll be jealous that I left and he didn’t, but you won’t hear him say that in front of Roderich and Arlette. He’s never had the strength to defy them.”

There would be little snark from her brother; he’d always been the least horrible member of their family. Adrien, her parents’ favorite, who could do no wrong, who was fated for more, to inherit and marry and pass down the most esteemed Glasscraft name. But he’d also been her only friend in the family, the only one compassionate enough to help her treat her wounds, to comfort her, whenever her father was done with whatever method of punishment he’d chosen that day. She wished he could have done more, could have stood up to their parents alongside her, but that was where their paths had diverged.

Astarion snorted. “I will do my utmost to be the picture-perfect rich, powerful, aristocratic husband they so desired you to have. However, if my patience fails me, and their necks come a little too close…”

“Try not to, will you?” Ban said, a sigh escaping her lips. “Be good - for me. I just need tonight to go well and then… with any luck we’ll never have to see them ever again.”

“Seeing as I’m the one who instigated all this in the first place…” Astarion exhaled, “I’m inclined to let you have it your way.” He held his hands up, playful. “No biting, I promise. Well, maybe a little, but…”

“Fangs to yourself, handsome.”

A dramatic, long-suffering sigh preceded the playful smirk on his face. “Of course, love.”

Ban couldn’t help the small smile that crept up at the sight of that. “Look. We cleared today for this. No meetings with the patriars, no haggling with Nine-Fingers - wouldn’t you consider that a win?”

“It would be, were I able to…” His hands rose, resting on either side of her waist, pulling her close for a quick, heated kiss. “… do certain things; alas we both know you are too preoccupied.” When they separated his eyes were tender, but the heat in them was unmistakable.

“Astarion,” she began, a little guiltily, “I’m sorry. My mind just isn’t on-”

“But of course! Besides, the staff are still at work. They’ve insisted on cleaning every room - there’s little privacy to be had today.” A mock sigh, and he let her go.

“And whose fault is that? I seem to remember it being your idea to host them.”

He snorted, but didn’t deign to answer.

“It’ll rain soon,” Astarion mused awhile later, glancing up at the sky again. “We ought to head inside. I’m aware it’s not the most comfortable place for you to be right now, but…” he shrugged. They were both dressed comfortably, but he’d very much rather not get his new loafers dirty on rain-wet soil.

She faced him, dark circles under her eyes prominent in the dull sunlight, nodding. “I mean, of course. I can get back to work with the caterers, pick out plating for tonight and the table napkins and-”

“Ban,” He tangled his fingers in hers, leading her back into the house. “A suggestion from your husband, if you’ll indulge me. Let’s head to bed - I can hold you, knead out all those knots in your back - nothing more, of course.” It would be good for her to unwind, he knew; the looming dinner had caused her no small amount of stress. She’d barely slept in days.

She followed him to their bedroom and Astarion sat on the bed, toeing off his shoes, patting the spot beside him. The moment she was there he pushed away her ponytail, pressing a kiss to her neck, wrapping an arm around her. He laid down, pulling her down with him.

He purposefully shifted his tone lower, softer, seeking to soothe. “You’re alright; it will all be fine, and if it isn’t, say the word and I will make it fine. I’ve got you.”

She was silent for a few moments, then leaned on him, her head tucked in his warm neck, nuzzling between jaw and collarbone. She mumbled something against his skin; it was spoken so softly that it took him a few moments to completely understand it.

“It’s not just that I didn’t trust you,” she said.

His hand paused and he peered down at her. “Are you saying there’s more you’ve yet to tell me, or…”

She shook her head. “What I’ve said is about the sum of it. There were specific instances, of course, which I will tell you when we have time, but what I mean is… not telling you wasn’t only because of our issues.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m surprised,” Astarion mused; Ban’s eyes snapped up to his, evidently not expecting this response. He huffed out a sad laugh. “Love. I ate whatever little pride I had left to tell you all of what I am, where I came from. What I went through.” He saw shame in her eyes and aimed to soothe. “No need to be ashamed, love. It merely slipped your mind.”

“It shouldn’t have,” she countered, “I should have known; of course you’d understand. But it isn’t the only thing, or even the main thing. I…” she hesitated a moment, then continued. “I did not relish you knowing I’m weak. That I could, and did, allow those things to happen to me. That I gave in and let it happen, when I’d always been the one to help you, the one helping everyone. I want to be your rock, not your burden.”

A soft kiss was pressed to her forehead; Astarion huffed out a small, exasperated laugh. “I don’t think myself capable of seeing you or loving you any less, no matter the circumstances, and neither is your strength the reason for that love.” He turned somber, holding her tighter, as if doing so would fully convey the depth of his affection. “Grant me the privilege of being where your heart finds peace, Ban. I would love nothing more.”

Tears filled her eyes and she gave him a small nod. “That I can do. Will do.” She looked away, huddling against his chest. “But then… they made me what I am, for better or for worse. Talking about it also feels like acknowledging they did do something right, at some point.”

“No.” That he wouldn’t abide. He placed an elegant finger under her chin, tilting it so she’d meet his eyes again. “Do not ever say that, because it isn’t true, and by no means will it ever be.”

“But they-”

“They what? Shaped you? You are you in spite of what they’ve done to you, not because of it.” His voice had risen, insistent on driving the thought away from her mind. He saw her open her mouth, about to argue, and he immediately interrupted her again.

“Before you say anything else, do you think what Cazador did made me who I am?”

“In some ways,” Ban said, and he found a measure of joy in the fact that she did so seemingly without fear of his anger.

Astarion nodded. “I don’t disagree. But I am also more than that - more than what he made me. And so are you. You, Ban…” He took a breath, trying to find the words to fully express himself and falling utterly short.

“You are strong. You are kind, compassionate. You tried, when trying was only for the foolish and the brave. You gave me a chance. You loved me when that was - and is - an objectively stupid thing to do. You held onto yourself and onto me when I was unable to, chose our love and-”

He heard her whimper as she hid herself against his chest yet again. He gently rocked her, wanting nothing more than to hold her close and shield her from everything. Her trust was intoxicating, so new and yet so achingly familiar; a haunting reminder of what he had almost lost forever. She kept her head tucked against his heart, her breathing slowly matching his as she melted against his body.

“Are you listening?” he asked, and at her nod he made it a point to take slower breaths, slowing his pulse down so that it soothed her further. He ruffled her hair affectionately. “Only for you,” he reminded her, staring up at the ceiling.

There wasn’t any reply, but there needn’t be. The silence stretched, and Astarion closed his eyes.

“This is really nice,” Ban eventually murmured, her eyes half-closed. It occurred to Astarion that she was utterly exhausted; the fact that she hadn’t complained about them wearing their clothes to bed should have clued him in immediately. He decided not to remind her about the massage and stayed mostly unmoving, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

He considered speaking, to say candy-sweet words, but he knew they were unnecessary; they’d long moved past those early days, when his voice was all he could offer her. Instead he closed his own eyes, fingers idly tracing patterns on her head.

Sleep, love.

When she finally stirred, Astarion was still in trance. Soft, light snores wafted down to her from somewhere above her head. Ban gingerly moved his hand from her head, then carefully sat up. The sun told her it was almost sunset. A small wince crossed her features at the realization; she was a little surprised the noise of the preparations hadn’t interrupted their rest. They’d have to prepare themselves soon, but she didn’t want to wake him just yet, figuring she could bathe before he awakened.

She turned to him, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed - unneeded, but habitual, comforting. His hand closed, then opened again, as if searching for something; his eyes moved beneath closed lids. Dreaming. She planted a soft kiss against his brow, received a soft mm of contentment in reply, then left the bed, steps as silent as possible so as not to disturb him.

The bath was warm and fragrant and Ban sank into it, eyes closing despite her rising anxiety. Seeing her father was one thing, but her mother was different; there was little doubt she would pry into every aspect of their lives and ask Ban about everything that had transpired since the last time they’d seen her. She wondered what they’d heard of the group who’d fought the Netherbrain, but her parents rarely bothered with events that did not concern the business, and the fight had left the area around the shop mostly unscathed. It was unlikely they knew anything more than what the broadsheets had reported in the days after the city was saved.

Then there were also Astarion’s remarks about Roderich, and the state of the shop. What could have caused her father to let it fall into such disrepair?

“Love.”

Her eyes flew open to see Astarion standing by the tub, nude, a small smile ghosting across his lips. He stepped over the rim of the tub to sink into the water opposite her. The moment he was in he reached for the scented soap and the sponge. “You didn’t wake me,” he complained impishly, working the soap into a lather and starting to scrub himself. “Worse, I wasn’t invited to this bath. I’m hurt.”

She sighed. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself, and I figured you’d need the rest.”

A wry chuckle answered her as he took her arm, bathing her as well. “I’m not the one waking up in the middle of the night.” He didn’t shy from her sharp glare, meeting it head-on. “And what of it? You can’t sleep. You think of them and dream of them - I can hear it.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Ban.”

Astarion paused his ministrations, the sponge stilling against her collarbone. “You have to let me in,” he finally said, the sponge pressed down against her as the hand emphasized his point. “You are trying and making great strides, but you have to realize this isn’t… embarrassing, or weak. And even if it is, what of it?”

“I don’t think it’s…” she began, the lie forming automatically; Astarion merely fixed her with a pointed look and she sighed.

“I suppose you’re right.” She shrugged. “I understand what you’ve said, but it isn’t that easy to overcome years of thinking that way. My mother prided herself on being a strong, stoic woman. She insisted that being emotional, needing comfort was… frivolous, unneeded, and for the weak; that she did not need anyone else other than herself.”

“An obvious lie, considering she wasn’t even strong enough to stand up for her own children.” The sponge resumed its path, scrubbing Ban’s chest and neck, traveling to the other arm.

She scooted closer, allowing him better reach. “She thought the strong thing to do was to let her husband do what he pleased, to require nothing of him.” She paused briefly to rinse off some of the soap. “They were betrothed at a young age, as is the custom. She loved him, at least at first. He… saw her as a broodmare, to birth his heirs. They had trouble getting pregnant, and she prayed to all the gods for a child, to give him what he so wished for. To give him what he’d begun looking for outside the marriage; without her permission, of course.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Pathetic,” he sneered, gesturing for Ban to turn around so he could scrub her back, “to step outside the marriage for heirs is one of the oldest and least imaginative excuses I could think of.”

“I doubt he cared.” The feel of the sponge against her skin, of Astarion’s hand grasping her shoulder, was soothing. Facing away from him provided her with a little more privacy, allowing her more ease in opening up. “My mother knew, much as he tried to hide it, yet she wouldn’t leave because she thought herself stronger than that. Because that’s what good wives do - listen to their husbands and give them children.”

Astarion’s hand stilled yet again and she heard a pinched, aborted grunt. “Again. Like I did you,” he said, tone acerbic. “And you stayed, like your mother did.”

“I left,” Ban reminded, and to her surprise she heard a relieved exhale.

“I am ever so glad you did, Ban,” he murmured.

Her head whipped around to look at him. Her hair splattered water everywhere, Astarion blinked away the droplets that landed on his eyelashes. He draped her hair over her shoulder to continue soaping the smooth expanse of her back, meeting her gaze.

“You thought I was incapable of reflection?” he teased, “Had you not left, we wouldn’t be here, I think.” The silence stretched as he continued working down her back. “I needed that push, and push you did. I can only be grateful.”

“I thought I broke your heart.”

He finished scrubbing and she leaned against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, fingers interlacing on her belly. He exhaled, thinking, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I prefer to think I broke my own heart.” Astarion wondered if he should say more, if more apologies would be required; loath as he was to do it, he would willingly prostrate himself before her if she required it.

“That time, perhaps; however I do feel like I’ve been breaking it again recently,” she admitted.

Astarion stiffened, realizing what she meant. “You have. You give a little, luring me in with a baited hook, and when I’ve bitten, you simply…” Dexterous fingers moved, miming a yanking motion, inspecting a fish, and discarding it. “...pull me in, only to push me away the moment I do something unpleasant or something that reminds you of Roderich or of my past behavior.” It’s not fair, he thought.

“I punish and reward, is what you’re saying,” she clarified, looking up at him. He could see guilt swimming in those eyes.

“Yes and no - I can appreciate that a lot of it comes from your family, and some of it comes from me,” Astarion began; he could feel her tensing and his hands slid to her shoulders to massage them. “However at times you make me feel like your feelings for me are contingent on how well I behave, and it’s…”

…just like Cazador. A comparison that he was loath to make, but one that was true nevertheless. He recognized the way her wavering affection made him feel - the shame, the fear, the pain - and he couldn’t continue shying away from it. Acknowledging it himself, however, was nowhere near the same as articulating it to her, and the idea of doing so filled him with dread.

He searched instead for the right word, and settled on “...painful.”

“I know you need time, and you deserve time,” Astarion finally said, “But please don’t withhold affection from me. Don’t leave me out in the cold, with silence my only company.”

Gods. She rubbed her face, frustrated. Of course she’d been hurting him; in her focus on not risking herself again she’d been too unwilling to trust his progress, too cautious - to the extent that he thought her love conditional.

“I’m so sorry,” Ban choked out, fighting back tears, “I’ve been doing to you what my parents did to me. I know. I… I’ll do better, I swear. This isn’t an excuse, love, but it’s hard; after having all this drilled in by them, and then… well, shielding myself from you - it’s not easy to unlearn.”

“Don’t you think that I, of all people, would know that, my love?” Astarion sighed, but he was mostly filled with relief and elation. That she acknowledged it, recognized it for what it was - unkind, unfair - and swore to change… it was enough for now, especially in light of the past tenday.

“Apology accepted,” he allowed, adding a little pompousness to color his voice, hoping it would lighten the mood, “I’m nothing if not gracious, after all.” But he also reached to her with his mind, suffusing her with his feelings - his gratitude, acceptance, and understanding.

She laughed a little; it came out broken, an odd mix of sadness and relief. “Too gracious,” she choked out.

“No such thing,” came his answer, quick and reassuring. “Just as you’ve forgiven me, so have I you. There’s little need to measure who did what, as long as we both…” he gestured, unsure of the specific verbiage he needed, “as long as we’re both happy, I suppose.”

She couldn’t contest that, turning to kiss a trail from his jawbone down his neck. Her lips ghosted over the old bite marks, setting off a wave of pleasant shivers throughout his body.

“Then we are in agreement?” he asked, simply to ensure the air was clear.

Ban made a small mhm of assent but didn’t say more. He was relieved, but found himself wanting to introduce more levity. He shifted, untangling his fingers to playfully cup a breast. “Much as forgiveness has been dispensed, darling, my heart still feels broken,” he drawled, “A kiss would be most welcome in soothing it.”

“You’re sure you only want a kiss?” she said, and he huffed out a small laugh.

“Most definitely not. Still, a kiss would be very welcome.” He played with her breast, pinching the nipple between index finger and thumb. Scooting back, she pressed against his cock. He bit his lip, appreciating her teasing, but forced his hips to keep still.

Tilting her head back, Astarion met her lips with his own, a soft caress without urgency. He nibbled at her lower lip, eliciting a quiet moan. Hands reached for his head, grasping still-dry curls to pull him closer. He allowed it, but he felt her fingers begin to move towards his ear; he quickly pulled her hand away.

“There isn’t enough time, you’re preoccupied, and as much as I’d like to take the edge off,” he scolded, “there are far more pressing matters we ought to attend to. I would prefer to make love when you’re wholly here, and not plagued by the spectre of your family.”

“So you’re saying you’re not hard right now? What do I feel back there, then?” she teased, hand sinking beneath the water.

Astarion tried to snatch the hand before it reached him, but she wasn’t really making a play for his cock; he was easily able to wrap his fingers around her wrist. He brought it to his lips, planting a soft kiss before sinking his fangs in, drinking languidly.

“That’s for being a tease and for being too godsdamned attractive for your own good,” he murmured, licking the last rivulets of blood before they fell.

Ban laughed, rolling her hips back, rubbing against him lightly. “You are hard.”

“Painfully so,” came the reply, huffed in exasperation.

“I doubt drinking helped you any,” she added, very much amused.

He groaned as she rubbed her ass on him again. “No,” he admitted, “but I needed something.” Astarion was mere seconds away from lifting her and sitting her on his cock, but she thankfully - regretfully, if he was being honest - pulled away.

He grumbled, glaring at her; he felt around the tub for the sponge he’d dropped when he’d reached for her hand. Instead he found a muscled thigh and pinched, just enough to elicit a yelp and a little jump; she splashed his face.

“Ass!”

Astarion chuckled, “And yet you love me.” He’d never said it with such lightness of heart, he thought; it was far too fraught, too sensitive a topic for him until recently. There was a certainty there now, of her love for him, that he was grateful for. However he couldn’t fully suppress the lingering question, the question that plagued him even in these calm, happy moments:

Will she ever love me as deeply and completely as I do her?

A question that shouldn’t haunt him; there was no tangible way to measure love, after all. To attempt to do so would likely only end in heartache, but he couldn’t seem to prevent it from cropping up each time.

His silence as he contemplated this train of thought did not go unnoticed.

“Astarion?”

Her hand touched his cheek, and he blinked twice as he refocused on her. She’d turned to face him while he was lost in his reverie. He saw concern writ large on her features.

“I didn’t mean to taunt you; I wasn’t actually going to grab you, if that’s…” she trailed off, “I’m sorry.”

Realization dawned on him and he vehemently shook his head. “Ban, no. It was perfectly fine; welcomed, even. I was merely lost in some tangent of thought - one of little import.”

True - not the whole of it, but now was not the right time for it.

“Then do you want to…?” Ban ventured; he quickly shook his head.

“Tempting, as you always are, but no. I’d rather focus on tonight’s events; there’s little doubt that it will be complicated, at the very least. You will need all your energy for it.”

Ban nodded. “A very good point.” She turned to face away again, leaning forwards in a silent request; Astarion wistfully raked his eyes over her back before he began to soap it again.

Astarion watched Ban fidget in front of him, tugging at the skirt of her dress.

“This does fit well, right?” Her voice was tentative, anxious as she spun around for his assessment. He’d been her mirror since she’d lost the ability to see her reflection. Sometimes he helped her see herself with the mental link, but right now he merely pursed his lips and rubbed at his chin.

“I think it fits perfectly,” he managed to say. The way it clung to her ass was delightfully distracting and he considered saying so, but he could tell she was nervous. Instead he walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder to still her movements. “You look beautiful; you always do, but especially so tonight.”

“Thank you, but are you sure the hem’s not too short? Fath- I mean, Roderich would no doubt comment on it, he would complain and say ‘have you no modesty?’ and-”

He tightened his grip on her shoulder and placed himself in front of her. “Look at me. It doesn’t matter what he thinks; if he so much as utters one word that offends you - that even irritates you - you merely have to say the word and he’s out.” His throat tightened as he spoke. How much had Roderich hurt her, in the small span of years a human child had, for her to be such a stuttering mess right now?

Ban took a few gulping breaths, nodding at him. “Yes, of course. You… thank you.” Another sharp breath took her and she rushed him, burying her face against his chest. His arms wrapped around her tightly, rocking her gently in his embrace.

“I shall go ahead to greet them,” he offered, “You can meet us in the dining room whenever you wish.” He slowly began to pull away, but she gripped the lapels of his suit coat.

“Stay with me,” she begged, unwilling to lift her head from where it was pressed against him. “Please. A little longer.”

Wordlessly he nodded, enveloping her in his arms yet again.

He could only hope it helped.

Astarion lounged on the throne as he waited. He heard the front doors opening, the thump of footsteps, the muffled voice of their chamberlain wafting through to him. He stayed in place, watching as the ballroom doors opened and figures began to enter. He’d carefully arranged himself, legs crossed and head resting on his hand, the picture of insolence and lordly power, exuding what he hoped was an aura of indifference.

He let them approach, making no move to rise or greet them; he counted four - no, three - figures. Their chamberlain, Roderich, and a woman.

Where’s the brother?

“My lord,” the chamberlain began, “Master Glasscraft and his missus are here.” Astarion didn’t deign to rise, eyes raking coldly over Ban’s mother. He could sense her deference to her husband; she hadn’t even looked up yet. A short, plump woman, she all but hid behind Roderich as the man prepared to greet Astarion.

Roderich cleared his throat and at that, Arlette’s eyes rose, raking over Astarion, traveling from the top of his curls to the bottom of his shoes. Her eyes widened and her lips parted a fraction of an inch. He knew that look all too well, remembered seeing it on countless faces, every single time Cazador loaned him out. It made his lip curl in disgust.

“Lord Ancunín,” Roderich began, hesitating for a moment. “Astarion.” The Glasscrafts bowed, obviously rather nervous and unsure.

Astarion fought the urge to snap; that he dared address him so informally without permission rankled. He let it pass, however, sitting up, elbows on his knees. “Roderich,” he nodded. He then turned to Arlette, and also gave her a small nod. “You must be Arlette. Ban has told me so much about you both.”

He finally stood, hands casually smoothening his trousers as he did, relishing the look of discomfort on their faces at his words. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he still towered over the pair, something he found immensely satisfying. “Pleased to have you here. How did you find the grounds, Arlette?”

She tittered. “It’s nice, I suppose. Roses were never something I desired for our garden; they’re thorny.”

“They require care and loving attention. Not things everyone is capable of giving.”

Satisfied with the raised eyebrows his comment caused, he decided to take them to the dining room; at least then he could have some wine to take the edge off their blathering. He descended the dais, gesturing for them to follow him. Before he could summon the chamberlain, however, Ban’s mother decided to get started on her prying.

“If you don’t mind me asking - how long have you and Ban been together?” Arlette’s voice made him turn and he crossed his arms, considering the question.

“A year and a half, if not slightly more,” he answered, mind flicking back to the day they first met. He noticed her frown; she opened her mouth as if to ask something more, but her husband gave her a curt shake of the head, ending her interrogation.

Interesting, Astarion thought to himself. He waved a hand at the chamberlain. “Please tell my wife that her family has arrived. She is free to join us at her leisure.” As he did, he led Ban’s parents out of the ballroom.

Roderich cleared his throat. “Astarion-” he began, wincing when Astarion fixed him with a glare over his shoulder. “You would really let Ban… your wife… hole up in her room while you have guests?”

The moment the words were out, Astarion rounded on him, rage written all over his face. His crimson eyes glittered dangerously, lip curling in a sneer. “I do not presume to tell Ban what to do, Roderich. Do you truly have the gall to attempt to command my wife under our roof?”

The smaller man spluttered, a sound Astarion relished. “I- my lord- I do not! I merely say it as fatherly advice. Ban is-”

“Is what?” he interjected, crossing his arms. He saw Arlette open her mouth as if to speak, but she first looked to her husband for permission. As Roderich nodded, she began.

“My lord, forgive me. In fact, may I call you Astarion? You are, after all, my daughter’s… husband… although I notice you do not wear rings.” Arlette straightened up, bracing herself. “What Roderich means to say is that our daughter can be willful. She is prone to behaviors that are unbecoming of a wife, behaviors especially unbecoming of her stature as your spouse, of a lady.”

“Unbecoming-” Astarion bit back the curse forming on his lips, scoffing instead. “For one, no. I am to be addressed as Lord Ancunín, not Astarion. If I hear that one more time from either of your lips’…” The pair before him recoiled, his words obviously effective.

He let the threat hang, satisfied at their reaction, and pushed on. “Ban is willful. She does things that are unbecoming of your idea of a lady, yes.” Those were in fact the things that made him love her so, but he considered that truth something Roderich and Arlette did not deserve to know. “Those are the things that make her her, and you will not disparage my wife in front of me. Is that understood?”

Small, hurried murmurs of assent answered him. Satisfied, he turned away from them. “Let’s head to the dining room before we all reconsider this reunion, shall we?”

The doors were held open for Ban as she entered the dining room. She did not see Adrien, only Roderich and Arlette, seated in stony, awkward silence across from Astarion. She noticed her mother’s eyes, the way they drifted down to her belly, as expected. Sorry mother, no grandchildren here. She quickly scanned the rest of the room - there was no sign of her brother - then landed on her husband. His hands were steepled beneath his chin, but he placed them flat on the table as he turned to her. His eyes flicked to her and for a moment she saw the steely anger in them, but it quickly melted into tenderness. He rose, crossing the room to take her hand and press a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, low enough that her parents did not hear. He kept her hand in his as he led her to her seat, only releasing her to pull her chair out. As she sat, so too did he, shooting one last warning glare at Roderich and Arlette before he waved a servant over to request dinner be served.

Ban looked Astarion over, noting the furrowed brows and tense shoulders, feeling a surge of relief that he was here. She reached out, snaking her hand around his, holding it in a tight grip. He made no outward sign he’d registered her touch, but his hand squeezed hers back. Satisfied, she turned to her parents.

Arlette was the first to speak, evidently unable to keep her mouth shut any longer. “Ban!” she exclaimed, “I know the last time we saw each other wasn’t… the best, but your father and I are so glad to see you again. You seem to have done well enough, haven’t you?” she asked, shooting Astarion an appreciative glance, “And I’m very proud. We taught you everything you needed to know, and look how far you’ve gone!”

Ban sighed. “I… I have done well for myself.”

She glanced over at her husband and saw his face harden further. Concerned, she reached into his mind. Not yet, love. I need to talk to them. He visibly swallowed down his pique, jaw reluctantly unclenching.

That they’re alive at all, Ban, is merely because you wish it.

She couldn't help the slight chuckle that escaped her. Keeping their bond open, she continued addressing her mother. “Done well, but not because of you, or what you two have taught me. Where’s Adrien?”

Arlette took this in stride, smiling to reveal crooked, yellowing teeth that still occasionally haunted Ban’s nightmares. “We shouldn’t argue about that. Have you forgotten? It’s uncouth to be arguing at the table.” She paused, and her gaze slipped away from Ban, settling on the empty plate before her. “Your brother had a prior commitment, and we thought it rude to ask your husband to postpone.”

Ban watched her mother rake her eyes over her belly yet again. “Any plans for children, Ban? You’re not getting any younger. I’m sure your husband wants an heir,” Arlette pressed.

She opened her mouth to retort, but her father interjected. “A little darling boy, Ban, would be a wonderful gift. For you two, and for us as well. He would be a treasure to us all.” He nodded at Arlette.

Ban sighed. “Do you harass Adrien for grandchildren as well, or is this reserved solely for your female child…?”

“Besides,” Astarion chimed in, a devilish grin on his face, “I must confess we have been trying as often and as enthusiastically as possible, but alas…”

Before he could continue, the servant returned with soup, halting any further prying for a few moments. Astarion automatically opened his mind further, sharing his sense of taste with her.

As they began to eat, Roderich spoke up. “As your mother mentioned little beauty, it is indeed uncouth to argue, or discuss such… marital activities, at the table, just as it is uncouth to leave your guests waiting.”

Ban could feel Astarion bristle, a vision flitting to her unwittingly: fangs, glittering in the light of the chandelier, sinking into that repulsive neck so that he’d never call her that again.

“It’s also uncouth to beat your children, as I understand it,” she snipped, and was rewarded by the blush that crept up her father’s face. Astarion barked out a laugh beside her but said nothing, his thoughts conveying amusement and warm affection.

“That, I did for your wellbeing,” Roderich protested, although his voice was weak. “So you’d end up somewhere in life. Successful. As you indeed became.” Ban saw her mother nod vehemently at these words.

Astarion could no longer help himself. “She is not successful because of your frankly atrocious parenting, she is successful in spite of you,” he growled, “And did I not warn you not to disparage my wife?”

Ban saw his lip curling again and hurried to interject before fangs were bared. To Astarion she sent a small plea, asking him to wait and let her get what she needed before he did anything rash. He blinked at her, the curled lip trembling in fury before it lowered.

“Be glad she bids me to be merciful and stay my hand,” he drawled, turning to them, “Else you would be in far more unpleasant circumstances than this.”

Ban cleared her throat. “Mother. Father. It… doesn’t matter what you think. What you did to me and Adrien is unforgivable, and if you think this success was because of you, you’re wrong.”

“How could it not be?” Arlette interjected. “You married someone so attractive. Someone rich. Someone powerful. All these things I taught you how to navigate. How to be a good wife. A good woman. How to know your place, to be strong and to honor your husband. Don’t you see? You married a hero, from wh-”

Her words died off as Astarion slammed a fist down onto the table, absolutely livid. “A hero?”

Roderich attempted to explain, “We asked around, my lord. We heard of your rise to power, of your efforts in saving the city from the Netherbrain.”

“Me. You think I’m the hero of Baldur’s Gate?” Astarion laughed, a deep, full laugh filled with levity - but also incredulity. Ban sampled the flavor of his emotions as they flooded through their connection; there was genuine amusement, but there were also much heavier emotions - his profound admiration for her, and his love. More than anything else, that.

It took him a long moment to recover, his features shifting from mirth to a deep, seething rage. He stood, hands gripping the edge of the table, leering at them. “Ban is the hero of Baldur’s Gate. She was the best of us - and nowhere were any of those insipid ‘lessons’ you subjected her to of any use. She picked us up, one by one, led us through the wilderness, all the way to the city. She burdened herself with every decision and every sacrifice that had to be made. She helped each and every one of us wretched fools,” he growled, his hands tightening on the table until it creaked, “and somehow still managed to save your sorry hides along with everyone else in this godsforsaken city.” He glanced at her, his expression softened briefly, the last part of his tirade saved for her and her alone.

You gave me everything, saved me from slavery and death alike. Loved me.

She offered him a soft smile before he turned back to Roderich and Arlette, the anger firmly back in his features. “You have pushed my patience far beyond the point I’d normally tolerate. The only thing keeping you alive is her - I strongly encourage you to quit while you’re ahead.”

This final warning, with Astarion looming angrily towards them, sufficed to convince the pair to back off. His tirade may have inadvertently revealed his fangs, Ban realized; she was tempted to ask him to back off again, worried.

The thought passed to him and he turned to her, wanting to tell her to let him handle it, when he realized. He leveled his gaze back onto her parents, brushing at his suit coat before sitting back down.

“What prior commitment was so important that Adrien would choose it over being reunited with his long-lost sister?” The cold tone had crept back into his voice, his wrath receding behind an icy veneer. Astarion fingered the stem of his wineglass, the other hand idly tapping the table. “Rather rude, when I invited everyone. Does he not miss his sister?”

That is what you wanted to know, is it not?

He’d read the thought as soon as it came into her mind. She’d felt Adrien would be guaranteed to show up; for one he would have wanted to see Ban. The other reason was purely pragmatic - Roderich would have wanted to introduce him to his powerful brother-in-law, establish connections early. His absence was perplexing.

“How is he, anyway?” Ban interjected before Astarion felt compelled to push further. Adrien was the only one she had a smidgen of concern about, the only one she thought she’d have an honest conversation with tonight; and yet he wasn’t here. Did he resent her? Had he run away, just as she had done?

She noticed Roderich’s jaw clench at the mention of her brother. Curious.

“Adrien, well… he had other commitments, as your mother said,'' Roderich stammered out, eyes darting from Ban to Astarion nervously. It was a lie, Ban was sure, but she couldn’t exactly place why. In her mind Astarion whispered his agreement.

She shook her head. “He didn’t, father. Don’t lie. You never were good at it. Does he not want to see me?”

Arlette let out a loud tch of disdain. “Of course he doesn’t want to see his ungrateful sister. I birthed you. We raised you. Loved you. And what do you do, the first moment we need you to do something in return? You run. You selfish, ungrateful child. After you left, your brother’s betrothal became much more difficult for us to secure. ‘Little beauty’,” she scoffed, “You aren’t even beautiful. All you have is what I taught you, no matter what your poncey husband here says. You know that.”

Ban tried not to let those words seep into her heart, but they hit their mark anyway. She felt herself tremble, felt tears threatening to form. No. Don’t. She’s just riling you up, Ban. Don’t.

It didn’t work. Her eyes blurred as her tears welled up, her breathing became fast and began to hitch. She gripped the edges of her chair, trying to ground herself because no, they can’t see me cry again, they can’t win-

“OUT!”

Astarion’s thunderous voice broke through to her, strong and brave and so, so needed. Her home and her salvation. She watched as he stood, index finger pointed towards the door.

“Out. Before I end your miserable, worthless lives. Get. Out.”

Ban wanted to tell him she hadn’t gotten the truth yet, but she was in no condition to. Astarion snapped a finger, summoning the chamberlain.

“Get them out of my palace, and they are not to be allowed back in under any circumstances.”

The chamberlain hurried to Roderich’s side and gestured politely towards the door. Roderich shot out of his chair and shoved the chamberlain away, glaring at Astarion.

“You may be the man of the house here, but mark my words: you are nothing. I do not know what you are, but I know enough to know you are unholy. A monster,” he spat out.

Astarion laughed at this, gleefully baring his fangs. They glinted in the candlelight; Roderich and Arlette flinched and went pale.

“Then you know how easily I can kill you, drain all your putrid blood and bathe in your innards,” he hissed. “And who would believe you? I walk in the sun. My heart beats. I am warm. I am a patron of the arts. I am well-respected throughout the entire city. I am a lord. And you? A sniveling, washed-out guildsman, bitter over some argument over a commissioned mirror. Any more attempts to approach my wife, to even speak to her without her express permission, and I will crush your reputation.” Astarion smiled, all teeth and danger, the predator on full display. “And if I ever hear any whispers about what lives in this palace, I will assume it has come from you. I will find you where you sleep and I will kill you - and I need no invitation to enter your home, trust me.”

Arlette, finally making the connection, took in her daughter’s features. “No. You…”

Ban smiled with feigned shyness, a smile she’d been taught to perform in polite company. But she let her lips stretch further, baring her own fangs. There was a low thrum of satisfaction in her belly as she watched her parents recoil in horror.

“Go on,” Ban said. “My husband has told you to get out. Be polite and do as my lord bids, hm?”

They seemed to hesitate, and Astarion released another hiss for good measure. Roderich finally conceded, his shoulders sagging slightly. He fixed Astarion with one last, terrified glare, then led Arlette out, the chamberlain guiding them out of the palace.

“That didn’t quite go the way I’d hoped,” she said, turning to Astarion. To her surprise he was right next to her, arms already halfway encircling her. He gave her a long, tight embrace, his nose pressed tightly against her temple, breathing in her scent.

“Are you alright?” he asked. The rancor was gone, and so was the smooth veneer in his voice. All that remained were his worry and his concern, her wellbeing his primary focus.

Ban held him just as tightly, hands fisting into his suit coat. It crumpled within her grasp, the smooth silk and the embroidery providing a texture she found comforting.

“I’m fine, I think. Perhaps I won’t be in a little bit, but right now I’m more concerned about Adrien.”

Astarion peered at her, studying her for a moment. Seemingly satisfied she wasn’t lying, he nodded.

“We’ll have to reconsider our approach, but I agree with you.”

“So you saw it too.” She stood, but her husband was always a step ahead; the chair was pulled out, his hands wrapping around hers before she could even reach for him.

It’s as if you can read my mind, she jested.

There was tender amusement there, mixed in with the clouds of still-roiling anger and worry. He tugged at her arm.

We can discuss everything another time. For now I would like you to rest.

She acquiesced, allowing him to lead her to their room.

That night she fell asleep, body enveloped in his arms, her mind embraced by his.

If you would like to see more of these two and their story, consider reading my other entries in the series "If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there."

I am happy to announce that 'Whither is thy beloved gone?' is getting professionally edited as well. I shall keep everyone abreast of when these changes go live. Thank you!

Taglist: @tavamarie @ayselluna @enterthedreams @coltaire @qiific3 @misscrissfemmefatale @vixstarria @eatyourheartoutmylove @linllewellyn @micropoe10 @thegoodwitchs-blog @akirahime @velcyrptr @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @babblebrain-blog @asterordinary @last-but-not-the-least @artist4theworld @gracemisconduct @decedentcoffeewizard @rootin-tootin-n-kind @pursuitseternal @youngtacobanana @krispeenuggiez @girlygmer-blog @cheezits4lyfe @@vinegarjello @the0ldman @wisteriaofthegraves @midnight-musings-of-nyx @toni-winchester @icybluepenguin @beepersteeper @hereliesblackdragon @generalstephkenobi

[queen-haq]

Fic: Never You (Penelope x Colin) - Part 2

Rating: R

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 scene released yesterday.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to Part 1 and my other stories)

Chapter 2

Penelope sipped her cup of lemonade, scanning the crowd in front of her. They were at Lady Hathaway’s ball, another social engagement in a series of endless ones, and she was bored. Whereas these events served a purpose in the past, now she was no longer in search of a husband or gossip. The gatherings weren’t all work however, there were many an evening when Eloise and she would die from laughter at others frivolity. And then there were the dances. Penelope loved to dance but she wasn’t very popular and not many gentlemen asked her to partner. Often Colin would be the only one. A part of her knew his invites were more for her benefit than his but she always assumed he enjoyed their moments together as well - but now that she knew how embarrassed he was to be seen with her, she cringed at those memories.

“Good evening, Pen. Enjoying yourself?”

She almost choked on the liquid at Colin’s unexpected appearance beside her. She thought he would avoid her company, hoped for it actually after their last conversation at the park, but there he was. Stubbornly she took another sip, refusing to speak to him.

“You look lovely tonight.”

She rolled her eyes.

“As pleasing as the new wardrobe is, I must admit it’s your hair that is most… intriguing.”

In her peripheral vision she saw his eyes roaming over her, and every nerve in her body tensed. It was difficult to breathe. For as long as she’d known him, she loved him. Being flushed and breathless around Colin was nothing new, but there was something different about the reaction he evoked in her now. There was no longer a soft, sweet warmth that enveloped her. Instead something dark and caustic surged through her, a swirl of tumultuous emotions that left her reeling with confusion when he watched her in the strange, new fashion that he had at the park and now. It probably had something to do with the anger she felt towards him but it wasn’t just that. She didn’t understand it, she didn’t like it, and she needed it to stop. 

“Oh, you’d like to know how I am?” Colin continued, unfazed by her silence. “Quite well, actually. London air has been surprisingly refreshing, although I’m still not fond of the rain.”

“I do not wish to discuss the weather with you, Mr. Bridgerton,” she replied stiffly, straightening her back while her eyes remained fixated on the flood of people circling the dance floor.

“Then what shall we discuss?” he mused. “Would you like to hear about the gifts I brought back for everyone? Or would you rather share more about your time in the country?”

“I would not.”

“Alright, let’s discuss your falling out with Eloise. My sister refuses to speak on it but maybe I can pry the truth from your lips.”

“You’d be foolish to try.”

“How about a dance then? Would you join me for a waltz?”

“No.”

“Fine. Quadrille it is.”

Irritated, she turned to find him smirking at her. Her heart pounded in her chest seeing the wicked glint in his eyes, the mischievous tilt of his lips as he deliberately goaded her. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“Is it working?” he asked with a cheeky smile.

“I won’t be indulging your whims, Colin.”

He pouted at her. “How unfortunate.” Eyes glued to her face, he drank from his cup. “Shall I take a turn about the room, Pen? Perhaps I’ll run into Lady Portia and ask her if she’ll arrange a dance for the two of us.”

Pen quirked her eyebrow. “I certainly won’t stop you from dancing with Mama if that’s what your heart desires.”

Colin laughed heartily, and instantly Penelope noticed Lord Fife and some of the other gentlemen glancing at them. And they weren’t the only ones. Nearby were Eloise and Cressida Cowper, watching her with disdain. Feeling self-conscious at all the attention they were drawing, Penelope stilled. “I’ve asked you to leave me alone, Mr. Bridgerton.”

His sigh was heavy with resignation. “I see we’re back to unpleasantries.”

“I don’t understand why you’re here. Aren’t you worried about Lord Fife and his gaggle laughing at you?”

“I don’t give a damn about what he says.”

“That’s certainly not true.”

The easy smile on his face dissolved, replaced with an intensity that held her transfixed. Regret loomed over his features. “I am truly sorry, Pen. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I wish I could tell you there was a reason why I behaved so foolishly but I can’t. I was intoxicated, yes, but that doesn’t excuse my behavior.” He took a step closer, his hands tantalizingly close to her own gloved ones. “I will do anything to earn your forgiveness. Please. Just tell me what you need.”

They were in a ballroom crowded with people but all she saw was Colin standing in front of her, his eyes soft and pleading, voice trembling with emotion. Yes he hurt her, wounded her so deeply that she spent weeks in despair trying to understand how he could be so cruel, but seeing him so torn up made her recognize he was sincerely apologetic. If she was honest with herself about that fateful encounter, what devastated her the most wasn’t him putting her down in front of others, but the sinking realization that he never really could love her. And that wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t fair to be angry at him for not reciprocating her feelings because love was not something that could be forced or demanded. And despite their newly fractured relationship, they were close friends once and she didn’t want him to continue suffering because of her. “I forgive you.”

Stunned, he stared at her. “You do?”

“Yes. We’ve both been unkind but it doesn’t serve any purpose to hold on to that pain.” She offered him a smile. “So you needn’t worry, Colin. Everything’s resolved between us.”

The cloud of worry departed from his face, his lips broke into a mischievous smile. “Does this mean I can have the next dance?”

She paused, her stomach twisting into coils. “Our friendship, Colin, it complicates things. It makes everything more difficult and…” Wringing her fingers together, she glanced down at her hands. “You’ll be traveling soon and I’ll be moving away from London once I’m married. We won’t see each other often and it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to exchange letters then. I wouldn’t want my husband or others to misconstrue things.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “It’s best if we end our friendship now.”

Before he could respond, they were interrupted by Eloise and Cressida.

“Colin, Penelope,” Eloise greeted them, her demeanor markedly cold as she turned to Pen. “Brother, I’m quite parched. Would you bring me some lemonade? Cressida will accompany you.”

“I would love to hear more about your travels,” Cressida cooed.

Jaw clenched, Colin kept his eyes centered on Penelope. “Pen and I are in the middle of a conversation.”

“Colin, be a gentleman!” Eloise chastised.

“It’s alright. We’re done speaking.” Penelope felt his keen stare upon her, he refused to budge, but it seemed to finally dawn on him that Eloise was not going anywhere. Reluctantly he walked away, with Cressida alongside him.

“Leave my brother alone.” Eloise’s words were saturated with heated rage. “Colin doesn’t know what you’re capable of, the damage you’ve caused to him and the rest of our family. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt by you.”

“Then you should tell him to keep his distance,” Penelope snapped back, and then regretted her tone instantly. “Eloise, I know you’re angry at me but you must know I would never deliberately cause Colin any harm.”

“You already have.” The pain in Eloise’s eyes was evident, causing a tidal wave of shame and guilt within Penelope. “Do you think he could ever forgive you if he knew the truth about who you are? He would hate you. We both know that.”

“Then maybe you should tell him.”

Eloise shook her head ‘no’. “I would never do that to my brother. He holds you in high esteem, the truth would break his heart. Like you broke mine.”

She stormed away, leaving Penelope staring after.

Her words weighed heavily on Pen’s mind, and she desperately needed air to compose herself. Her stride was quick as she made her way out of the ballroom, walking towards the large garden. There were some guests scattered around the grounds but as she went deep into the maze on the property, she found herself alone in a private corner behind the hedges.

For a long time she pondered Eloise’s words, the accusations echoing in her mind. As much as she’d tried to defend herself, Eloise was not interested in forgiving her. And deep down Penelope knew she didn’t deserve it. Her actions had hurt others, especially the Bridgertons, and even though she had only written about them to protect them, the end result was still the same.

Yet there was a part of her that didn’t regret her actions, because Colin was living the life he wanted and Eloise was no longer under suspicion.

Most of all, Lady Whistledown had given Penelope the kind of freedom she had never imagined. A voice to speak her mind and leave a mark in the small word she inhabited, and enough money to secure a healthy future. It was selfish of her but she didn’t care. She was Lady Whistledown and she was proud of it.

“You’ve been lying to me, Pen.”

She turned around immediately. Colin was only a few feet away, moonlight shining brightly upon him. He’d always towered over her, but standing there to his full height he looked regal and statuesque. While he’d never been a wallflower, there was something intrinsically shy about him from living in the shadows of his formidable father and brothers. He had indicated as much in his letters and in some of their private conversations. But the Colin from their recent encounters, the one staring at her now, appeared to be a different person. More confident, sure of himself. And it was reflected in his poise and gait as he sauntered closer. His thumb was pressed against the palm of his other hand, idly stroking his skin, as if in deep thought.

“You should not be here,” she replied. “If someone were to come upon us-”

“Your betrothed would not approve?”

“There would be a scandal!”

“Yes, of course.” There was wry amusement in his voice, his blue eyes twinkling. “I’ve been making discreet inquiries about your activities, amongst friends and others. I even approached Mrs. Varley and your mama earlier, and they both confirmed my suspicions.” He dipped his head to the side. “Albeit inadvertently.” Eyebrow quirked up, he sent her a teasing smile. “There’s not been any hint of a suitor, Pen. None at all.”

She peered at him, horrified.

“There is no engagement is there, Pen?” He came to a stop in front of her. “You lied to me. And I need to know why.”

Red hot anger coursed through her veins, she was so enraged that every sense of propriety and decorum left her brain. “You arrogant prick!” She charged at him. “How dare you?”

Before she could shove him away he gripped her hands, forcibly holding her tightly in his arms.

“Is it that difficult for you to imagine someone would want me? That there is a man out there who could love me and want to marry me? You find that so inconceivable, Colin?” Her breath grew ragged as she tried to break free from his grip. “Did it never occur to you-”

“You don’t get to end our friendship, Pen.” His eyes were dark and volatile, so deep that every moment she held his stare felt like sinking into the abyss. It was she who had lost her temper but now it was Colin who looked untethered, clinging to her. “You don’t get to walk away from us.”

Her heart beat thunderously in her chest, her stomach in knots as she realized she was trapped against him. There was no escape. He was occupying every inch of space, filling her senses with his scent, overwhelming her with his presence as his close proximity wreaked havoc with her insides.

“You are my friend.” Colin’s voice vibrated with raw, desperate urgency that shook her to the core. “My confidante.” Lips parted, his gaze trailed down to her mouth, down the length of her neck, settling on the highs of her breasts. No one had ever looked at her with such ferocity before, making her feel utterly exposed. “You’re…” His voice trailed off, like he couldn’t finish his thoughts; he was distracted, caught up in his world. Suddenly his hand was on her neck, the other wrapping around the back of her head. Frozen in his arms, she was simply too enthralled to move. His long lean fingers traced along her skin, searing through her heaving breasts, until his index finger hooked along the neckline of her dress.

It was such a simple thing, his finger tucked into the cleavage of her dress, but her body burned at his touch. She couldn’t take it any longer, unravelling in front of him as wetness gushed between her legs.

“Have you always been like this, Pen?”

She swallowed audibly. “Like what?”

His left hand loosened its hold on the back of her head, shifting so that his thumb now traced the contours of her lip. His gaze met hers, her body trembled. The complexity of emotions in his eyes was unsettling, she didn’t understand it at all. Why was he doing this to her? Why was he making her feel so completely vulnerable?

“So disagreeable,” he murmured, his soft breath humming against her skin.

And then just as she decided enough was enough and she needed to make her escape, his mouth closed over hers.

To be continued...

A/N - As always, feedback is loved and cherished, and encourages the muse to write faster :)

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please drop me a note/comment.

[avengerscompound]

Shared Experience - Prologue

Shared Experience - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Assault (sexual in nature but not graphic), being turned into a vampire against will and all that entails.  More warnings on series.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Rose Astor

Word Count:   1769

Summary:  Rose Astor met her end in 1920, joining the ranks of the living dead two years after the birth of Steve Rogers.  A century later the two meet in battle - a beacon of light clashing with a creature of the night.  Despite their differences, the two bond over their shared life experiences.  Can a vampire become an Avenger?  Can two such different beings create a life together?

A/N: IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED IN THE REMAINDER OF THIS SERIES, EITHER ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST OR SEND ME A MESSAGE

Prologue

July, 1920

The room was loud and crowded as a band played high pace and energetic music.  Everyone was in high spirits at the speakeasy that night.  The police were deep in the pockets of the gangs that ran this part of town, which meant that everyone was free to just drink, dance, and be the kind of people the government had deemed unsavory and undesirable.

Rose Astor liked being unsavory and undesirable - or at least according to government standards.

Until a few months before she turned eighteen, she had been such a good girl.  When she was little she always had her socks pulled up over her knees and her hair perfectly set in ribbons.  As she grew her skirts got longer and she wouldn’t dare to have spoken to boys without a chaperone.  Her parents trusted her, she went to church, and no one doubted that she wouldn’t go to college, get a degree, find a husband, settle down, and raise her own perfect children.

Then, two months before her eighteenth birthday, they’d enacted prohibition.  For the whole school year, all her friends had been turning 18 and having grand parties where they got to drink champagne for the first time and beautiful cocktails, and she’d been so good, refusing every drink offered to her and every dance with a man she didn’t know and hadn’t been approved by her parents.  Then when it came to her party, she got nothing.

She knew it was silly, but it seemed so unfair.  She’d behaved and now she was being punished.  So she, along with so many people in the city, rebelled.  She loved it.  She loved the short dresses and the feel of the beading whipping around her legs when she danced.  She loved dancing, especially with strangers.  She loved drinking cocktails and coups of sparkling wine.  Her favorite cocktail was the sidecar, and she loved it when people bought them for her and then took her out on the dancefloor.

She’d been coming to this club since a month before her eighteenth birthday.  She wouldn’t even have been allowed to drink even if there was no prohibition, but the bouncer hadn’t cared to check her ID and she attracted enough attention inside that she never had to risk buying a drink to get one.  It had now become part of her weekly routine.  Friday and Saturday night were the nights she let go and was everything she’d been raised not to be.  There had been a few scares with police raids, but so far she’d never been caught, and the risk of being caught was part of what drew her to it.

The past few weeks she’d attracted the attention of a man claiming to be a duke.  Marcellus Lakatos was a little older than she’d normally entertain, though it was hard to say how old exactly.  He spoke like a man who had seen and experienced everything the world had to offer and had grown a little bored with it.  He dressed like a man who wasn’t quite comfortable with current fashion but was trying to fit in.  It intrigued her, it still might not have been enough on its own, but he was also the most handsome man she had ever seen.  He was short, but she wasn’t particularly tall herself, so she still looked up at him.  His skin was like porcelain, and he had the palest eyes she’d ever seen in her life.  His dark hair looked like coal against his milky white skin.  He stood out and while she worried that his interest in her was hardly made from good intentions, he mesmerized her.

Besides, she liked his accent and the deep timber of his voice.

She could feel his eyes on her now, and as he approached with the martini glass filled with amber liquid she knew was for her, she also knew she wanted to go home with him.

The thought wasn’t one she would have entertained six months ago.  Rose Astor of six months ago was a naive girl who believed that sleeping with a man would ruin her.  Her father would still believe that to be true, but she’d learned a lot in the last six months, and now she wanted to be ruined.  Her future husband would never need to know, and she liked the idea of having this secret.

“My darling,” he said, offering her the glass.  “I’m glad you came.”

“I’m happy to see you too,” she replied, taking the drink.  “I was hoping you’d be here.”

He raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow at her.  “Oh, really?” he asked.  “What would you say to going somewhere quieter so we can get to know each other better.”  He leaned in, bringing his lips to her ear.  His breath was cool on her skin and sent a shiver down her spine.  “Or would that ruin your reputation?”

It was like he knew exactly what to say to get her to do what he wanted.  There was no way he was going to say no to the invitation after that.  Part of her knew he was pushing her buttons.  Part of her even knew that this might be dangerous.  She didn’t care, as soon as he’d issued the challenge she had to accept.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, and he took her hand, leading her toward the door.  She put her drink down on one of the tables as she followed after him.  A car pulled up at the entrance to the speakeasy as they stepped out onto the alleyway, and the driver, a small, hunched man, darted out and opened the door for them both.  Rose had no idea how it could be possible that the driver knew to pick them up, yet here he was, ready and waiting for them in a black Rolls-Royce Phantom.

Rose climbed into the back of the car with Marcellus.  She had been in cars as luxurious as this before.  Her family had money so she was used to some of the finer things in life, but still, it was an impressive vehicle.

“I do like these modern fashions women wear these days,” Marcellus said, his fingers ever so slightly skimming over the tassels on Rose’s flapper dress.  It made it feel like spiders were crawling on her skin, and she shivered slightly.  “It is so much more attractive than the frumpy clothing of the past.”

“You don’t think it’s too scandalous?” she asked.  “My parents hate that I show so much skin.”

“It is the job of the youth to rebel against their parents,” he said, his fingers skimming up the beading of her dress.  “And what is life without some scandal?”

He leaned in closer and closer as he spoke, until his lips were hovering over hers and she could feel his breath on her skin.  She bridged the distance, pressing her lips against his, and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.  He coaxed her mouth open with his tongue and sucked on her lower lip.  She let out a soft moan, but it was cut short as he bit her, a sharp pain shooting through her lip, and the taste of iron filling her mouth. 

She pulled back suddenly and wiped her mouth with her index and middle finger.  When she pulled them back they were stained red with her blood.  She was shocked, but unsure what to say.  Rather than being apologetic, Marcellus seemed hungry.  His usual blue eyes were red, and he looked at her like a predator looked at its prey when it knew it had nowhere to escape.  He ran his thumb over her bottom lip.  “Do not worry,” he said, bringing his thumb to his mouth and sucking the blood from it.  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Please just let me out,” she said.  “I’ve changed my mind.”

His hand moved up, skimming around the side of her breast and up to her neck.  “Come now, there’s no reason to be afraid.”

She tried to push his hand away but it was like pushing on a stone wall.   He gripped her neck so hard that it felt like his fingers were going to break her skin.  “Come now, Miss Astor, is this now what you wanted?”

Before she could answer, his lips were on hers again.  She struggled, trying to push back against him, and when she realized how fruitless it was, she began to scramble to open the door of the car.

His lips moved from her mouth to her neck.  “Please.  Stop,” she said as she beat against the window.  She knew he wouldn’t but she hoped that her struggles might draw the attention of someone outside, maybe even a police officer.  Maybe the driver might take pity on her and pull over, or unlock the doors.

He yanked her head back and raised his head, his mouth open, exposing teeth that were far too sharp.  The next thing she knew he was attached to her neck again and there was a sharp stabbing pain as his teeth broke her skin.

She cried out, struggling under him as her veins opened and spilled her blood into his mouth.  The scream died out as her head began to swim.  It felt like she was drowning, and all she could do was struggle to keep her head above water.  They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes.  That wasn’t the case for Rose.  All she saw was every mistake she’d made until now.  She was being punished.  Something had gone wrong in her life and she kept being punished for wanting to have fun.

The world swam and began turning black.  Her awareness of the world around her was almost non-existent as she barely held on to consciousness.  Marcellus pulled her head back and opened his shirt, and using one of his nails he cut through his snow-white skin.  Blood oozed from the wound sticky and black and he pushed Rose’s face against his chest, her lips pressed against the oozing wound.

She couldn’t fight him - she was barely able to register what was happening outside of the fact it felt like she was drifting off to sleep.  When the blood smeared over her lips, a deep, primal part of her awakened, and she began to drink.  She suckled like a baby, the thick, metallic-tasting liquid filling her mouth.  As she swallowed it down, her energy began to return, but the world still spun around her.

“Good,” Marcellus soothed.  “Drink.  Tomorrow night, you shall be born anew.”

// NEXT

[skybluewritings]

Tell me when did your winning smile become a smirk? Steve Harrington x fem!reader Part 2/2

Warning: Mentions of alcoholism, Sexist language, references to sex

Note: This is part 2! Thank you so much to everyone who read this!

Six years later…

New York, Early June, 1990

She stared at the notepad in her lap, multiple sentences were angrily scrawled out in lines of thick biro. It was a Sunday and she’d purposefully made no plans so she could for once write but several hours later nothing was happening. Pages and pages of paper lay scrunched up around her living room floor. She’d been trying to plan out the same article for the past six months, it turned out being the personal assistant to the editor of a magazine left very little time in the day. And whilst she was of course grateful for work, any work, she had hoped in her spare time she could put to use all of her experience from the job into actually writing something good. Instead, she was left with a sore wrist and a strong case of imposter syndrome.

In her final year of school, she’d decided to apply to NYU to study Journalism. Although they went practically every summer to the east coast her parents were initially unsure about her studying in another country. However, after a trip to New York and visiting NYU they were all for it. Vivienne had called delighted at the news and had suggested she call Steve to give him a nudge in the direction of applying for college. She knew he’d always struggled in school but found it odd he wasn’t even applying? He’d seemed excited growing up at the prospect of college. She never called him but figured by the time she saw him that summer he would’ve gotten in somewhere. The summer came, except Steve wasn’t there, Clyde would barely even mention him, except for the occasional shake of the head and “that son of mine.” She quickly found out he hadn’t applied to any colleges at all and had been deliberately cut from the trip as punishment. Steve didn’t come the following year or the one after that, whilst her feelings towards him were complicated it wasn’t the same without him. The next few summers were less eventful: she’d get through her college summer reading, hang out with Margo and her friends and even finally learn how to surf.

However, this year due to how consuming her job was she doubted she’d even manage any break. She wearily rubbed at her eyes, wishing the words would come to her. Her phone thankfully began to ring and she picked it up to take the call. “Hello?”

“Hi hunny.”

“Hi Vivienne.” She said pleasantly surprised.

“I wanted to know if you’re coming up to the Vineyard for my 50th birthday? It’s on Saturday July 15th,  Your mom and dad and everyone’s gonna be there.”

She wondered who everyone was.

“I’m sorry I really wish I could but I’m so tied up at work right now.” She sighed.

 “You’re going to work yourself to the bone. Do you not have any time off you can take.”

“I have some…I just don’t know how my boss would feel.”

“Just find out and let me know.” Vivienne told her kindly. “And remember to have fun, you’re only 23 once!”

 “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind!”

“It’s late I’ll let you get to bed star journalist.”

She let out a tired laugh. “Not quite yet.”

“Keep trying sweetie and it’ll pay off, goodnight.”

She really hoped it would too.

“Night.” She replied putting down the phone.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

She spun her conversation with Vivienne over in her head for the next couple weeks. Vivienne had been like a second mother to her growing up and although she’d never admit it, it’d devastate her if (Name) didn’t come. She explained the situation to her boss who admittedly had more empathy than she’d given him credit for, he gave her a week off, going as far to comment that she was a hard worker and everyone needed a vacation. She supposed her hard work had paid off, well sort of.

There she was on Sunday July 9th climbing out of a taxi suitcase in hand. Knowing who was also possibly staying in the house made her slow the walk down the drive way to the front door. She rung the doorbell and thankfully it was Vivienne that answered. In a state of excitement Vivienne made her abandon the suitcase in the hallway and come straight out to the patio where dinner had just been served.

“Look who’s finally here!” Vivienne exclaimed.

Clyde gave her a polite smile and her parents delighted embraced her. Her stomach dropped when the person she’d dreaded seeing appeared.

Steve stood blinking at her for a few seconds. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She said back stiffly.

He looked a little older and if he had been cute before he was now infuriatingly handsome.

They took their seats and didn’t interact for the rest of the meal.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Monday July 10th

Early the next morning she woke up early to go surfing. After dinner Steve had disappeared leaving her to be fussed over by everyone else. When she’d gone to bed she’d heard his bedroom click shut, then that was it. He didn’t even bother playing any music to wind her up.

She surfed a few good waves before deciding to take a break, as she came out of the water wet suit half off, she noticed another person further out. She cupped her palm over her eyes to watch them in the morning light. The person caught an impressive wave and she had to give it to them that they were pretty good. They submerged from the water and swam back to shore. She stopped watching them and instead looked out to sea, the water lapping around her ankles. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that the person was walking towards her. And on closer inspection that the person was Steve. The universe she decided was just plain mean.

 “Morning.” She faltered.

 “I didn’t realise you surfed.”

“I learnt a while back.” She explained showing him the board.

 “That’s cool.”

It felt like they were acting out a script written by aliens. She’d always known all the things she wanted to say to him if she ever saw him again, but now her mind had gone blank.

He push his wet hair away from his face, like her his suit was also around his waist giving her view of his lean muscular torso. She caught him very briefly glance at her chest, his face flushed. Her heart sped up, it was seriously unfair how much he clearly still affected her.

“I feel I should be upfront with you. I know that a lot has happened between us but I think for the sake of your mum, for the next week I’m here we should try be civil.” She suggested.

“Yeah, I can do that.” He agreed and paused. “I just wanted to say that despite everything, it’s really good to see you, seriously.”

She didn’t quite know how to respond, but she knew in that moment she felt the same.

He cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go shower but I’ll see you there.”

Her throat constricted. “Excuse me?”

 “I-I meant I’m gonna shower and then I’ll see you back at the house separately to being in the shower. You won’t obviously be in the shower with me..”

As soon as he said this her mind went to exactly that, she closed her eyes for a moment to block out the indecent image.

“Have a good shower...”

“Yep will do.” He said quickly brushing straight past her.

She wished she’d had at least a few hours away from him to shake off the embarrassment of the morning, but that afternoon she found herself on a hike, the parents at the front and her and Steve stuck at the back. She’d kept as much as distance as possible without drawing attention.

“I don’t have the plague y’know.” Steve joked.

She slowed down a little so she ended up walking next to him. “That’s what someone with the plague would say.”

“Would you rather possibly catch a deadly disease or go up there and be asked what your doing with your life?” Steve asked gesturing to where their parents were walking.

The way he was cracking jokes with her was starting to ware down her defences.

“Please don’t.” She sighed. “I’ve already been questioned several times, on when I’m ‘going to get serious’. As if being the assistant to the editor of a prominent magazine isn’t a real job.”

“I’ll do you one better, my dad still hasn’t processed that I’m majoring in graphic design.” Steve dryly told her. “I think he had hopes I would get some kind of business degree and valiantly take over his company.��

 “I know it’s long overdue but congratulations on getting into college.”

 He smiled a little at her. “Thanks.”

On the horizon was Edgartown, the largest town on Martha’s Vineyard.

“Wanna ditch them?” Steve asked her.

She wasn’t sure being alone with him was the best idea but then again she wasn’t sure how much more she could take of endlessly hiking.

“Sure.” She gingerly replied.

“We’re gonna go hang out in town, we’ll meet you guys back at the house later.” Steve called out to their parents.

They all stopped and looked at both and her Steve in surprise.

“You’re going to spend time together?” Her mum said gesturing to them.

“Yes.” She said.

“You’ll be alone, just the two of you hanging out.”

She stood up straighter. “Yes, yes we are.”

Her mum and dad exchanged a look of confusion. Clyde stared at them blankly.

Vivienne on the other hand was delighted. “Have a lovely time kids! Call the house later if you’re not gonna be back for dinner.”

“Of course they’ll be back for dinner.” Clyde interjected.

 “We might not be.” Steve said.

Clyde frowned. “We have a reservations with the Smiths at the country club, their boy Daniel will be there, he’s just graduated from Princeton.”

“And the relevance of that is?” Steve asked flatly.

“I shouldn’t have to explain it to you Steven.”

“Clyde, I think he can miss one dinner.” Vivienne calmly told her husband.

Clyde threw up his hands before walking on ahead. Vivienne didn’t bother to follow and instead walked with (Name’s) parents.

Steve glared at his dad. “Come on let’s go.” He told her.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

There was a market open when they arrived in Edgartown, their hands accidentally brushed sending a sparking sensation across her skin. He glanced at her, she looked away.

“Anywhere you like the look of?” He asked.

“How about over there.” She replied pointing to a cute jewellery stall.

She poured over the selection, the vendor was busy having a conversation with another customer.

She nudged Steve. “I bet that’d look great on me.” She said lowering her voice.

Steve held a chunky skull rung. “You mean this?”

“Obviously.”

He passed it to her and she tried it on, they both tilted their heads inspecting it.

Steve smirked. “It kind of looks like my dad.”

The tension from earlier was eased.

She laughed lightly.  “Should we get it for him?”

“That depends,” Steve pretended to think, “on how deeply you value your life.”

She nodded. “Quite a bit actually, I’d rather not end up like this ring.”

She took off the ring and placed back on the table. She then noticed a necklace with a gold chain and blue pendant. She delicately lifted it, the gem twinkling in the light.

“This reminds me of those bracelets we used to have as kids.” She said transfixed by the necklace.

Steve came closer to her and picked up the pendant in admiration. “Unlike those bracelets this probably has more value than some plastic.”

“I liked those bracelets.” She said defensively.

He smiled and shook his head. “I wasn’t trying to say I didn’t like them. Considering they cost a dollar each they were pretty cool.”

She wondered if he’d actually kept his bracelet, hers was in her bedside draw back at the house. She’d taken it off after he’d stopped wearing his and it’d been wedged into a dark corner ever since. They were so close she could make out the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. Growing flustered she moved back from him adjusting the bag on her shoulder.

The vendor a woman of about their age, gazed adoringly at them. “I’m sorry but I just have to say what a cute couple you guys make.” She gushed.

Both her and Steve glanced each other a little alarmed.

 “No no, we’re not a couple, he’s a uh” She searched for a word. “Friend? Yeah, a friend.”

“My bad.” Said the vendor apologetically, she then gave Steve a coy look. “In that case-“

“He’s not interested.” She blurted out, the Vendor looked disappointed.

 (Name) put the necklace back, Steve raised his brows at her as they both walked away. “How do you know I wasn’t interested?”

“Well, were you?” She asked point blank.

“No, but I might’ve been.”

 “Trust me I saved you back there! Do you really want to go out with someone that flirts so brazenly with customers?”

He grinned at her. “What’s wrong with flirting?”

“There’s nothing wrong with flirting, I’m the last person to judge, but just don’t put customers in a position like that.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Right.”

Before she could navigate the rest of the conversation, a saviour came in the form of Margo. Her friend spotted them and excitedly weaved through the crowds.

(Name) gave her a hug. “I thought it wasn’t meant to be seeing you until tomorrow?”

“I felt like getting out the house.” Margo explained, she then noticed Steve. “It’s been a hot second Harrington, how are you? Still using that Farrah Fawcett hair spray.”

Steve looked to (Name) in silent outrage, Margo laughed quietly into the back of her hand.

“You swore you wouldn’t tell anyone.” He fumed.

“In all fairness to me, I didn’t think she’d tell you to your face.” She sheepishly said.

“Margo do not tell anyone.” Steve said firmly.

Margo threw an arm around (Name’s) shoulder. “If you buy us iced coffee right now, I won’t. Deal?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Deal, but if you break it, I’ll literally kill you both.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

When Steve was in the line buying their coffee Margo pulled her aside.

“What on earth is happening?! The last time you were both here one moment you were fighting then the next nearly kissing then not talking, I’m just in shock how you can be so normal around him?” Margo said.

“He apologised to me and we both on moved, there’s nothing more to it.”

“You’re obviously still angry though?”

“Yeah of course I am!”

“Then talk to him.”

She shook her head. “It would just complicate things, that’s way too messy of a thing to do when I’m only here until the end of the week. Me and him aren’t friends we’re being civil, this trip is about giving his mum a really great birthday, not making it all about old teenage drama.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

“Yes.”

Margo narrowed her eyes. “Mhm.”

Steve returned with the ice coffees. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, all good.” She said voice a little too high pitched to be convincing. “Come on let’s go check out the rest of the stalls.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Tuesday July 11th

“I can’t see anything.” Vivienne tutted, adjusting her binoculars and leaning further over the rail of the boat.

 “Mom be careful, or you’ll fall off the boat and be swallowed by a whale.” He joked.

Vivienne leant away from the edge. “If they make appearance.”

Today’s activity was whale watching, Martha’s Vineyard only offered private whale watching tours meaning it didn’t come cheap. There had been a polite argument between both her father and Clyde over who should pay, Clyde of course won, it was less about generosity and more about yet another display of wealth.

(Name) was sat at the small table and chair set, a bottle of prosecco in the centre, everyone but Vivienne had helped themselves. No one had mentioned it but so far on the trip she hadn’t seen the woman touch a single drop of alcohol.

“Darling when are we going to talk about it?” Her mum suddenly asked.

She took a sip of prosecco. “About what?”

“About what on earth you’re doing with your life!”

She groaned. “Do we have to do this now?”

“When else are we going to talk about it? Every time I bring it up you won’t talk about it.”

She set her glass down. “What is so bad about my life that you can’t leave alone?”

Her mother frowned. “The fact that after a year you’re still an assistant. An assistant! You were meant for such better things than this. You should’ve gone into law like me and dad, you’ve always had the knack for it, it’s not too late.”

She wished a whale would swallow her.

“I don’t want to do law, as I’ve told you so many times. And I’m an assistant to the editor of a respected publication, I could get promoted any day now.”

“I can’t wait to have this same conversation in another year.” Her mum sniffed.

She got up from the table. “You know what mum be disappointed in me see if I care.”

She went to the other end of the boat, her arms resting on the railing as she watched the propellors twirl through the water.

“You okay?” Steve asked coming to join her.

“I just wish my parents could be proud of me.” She admitted, lowering her eyes.

Steve exhaled heavily “Join the club.”

 “Vivienne’s proud of you, there’s no doubt about that.” She looked at him. “Did she send you?”

He shook his head. “No, no one overheard the conversation. I saw you leave looking upset, figured something was up.”

This made her chest tighten. “Oh, well that’s nice of you, thanks.”

 “I actually think your job sounds pretty great by the way, I always knew you’d end up doing something with your writing.”

He leant against the railing their arms brushing, but this time she didn’t move away.

 “My job is great-amazing even, but I haven’t written anything in a year.”

“A year?” He said in surprise.

 “Yeah, not good right? When I’m at work I’m always busy and when I’m not I’m too exhausted to even think about writing.” She sighed. “Enough about me, let’s hear about college.”

 “After I got rejected from basically every school I applied to-“

 “I thought you didn’t apply to any schools?!”

“I lied to my parents, because I was embarrassed that I was too stupid to get in anywhere.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t say that, you’re not stupid you never were.”

He smiled at her. “Thanks.”

She smiled back at him. “Anytime.”

He glanced down to her hand that was still on his shoulder.

“Sorry.” She said her hand falling away.

His lips parted as he looked at her for a moment.

“You can carry on with your story.” She said shyly.

“Yeah, right.” He laughed nervously, springing back to life. “So, I went to a local community college to get some extra credits, 2 years later I applied to Purdue-the top college in Indianna and I’ve been there ever since.”

Her heart swelled with how proud she was of him.

“And why graphic design as your major and mathematics as a minor?”

 “I really want to get into designing video games, the mathematics part is so I can learn coding.”

She dramatically lowered her sunglasses. “Steven are you a-nerd?”

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffed.

“I’m going to spread salacious gossip about you now.” She teased.

He snorted. “Then maybe I’ll have to tell people that you were so scared of the exorcist you slept with a night light until you were 13. I think we’re at a stalemate.”

 “You’ve got me there!” She agreed. “But seriously I’m glad you’ve found something you’re passionate about.”

“I used to love going to the arcade growing up, especially when the games had those like animated segments. I like the idea that you can take someone on a journey, where they have control over whether they win or not. If you’d seen the things I have, you’d want a few more wins in life.” Steve explained, his smile fading she wondered what he was talking about but didn’t press him.

She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Well, I think your future job sounds pretty great.” She said repeating his own words.

He bumped her shoulder back. “I promise to remember you when I’m rich and famous.”

She tutted. “And there’s that infamous ego, just when we were having a nice moment.”

“Careful I might feed you to the whales.”

“If we ever see any.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

  Wednesday July 12th

After the boat trip she’d gone to hang out at Margo’s, in typical fashion her friend pried her for information about Steve. (Name) had relayed their conversation on the boat.

“I think he’s still got feelings for you.” Margo said.

She shook her head. “There’s no way.”

Margo raised a brow. “I don’t know he was ready to threw away his entire relationship for you.”

“That was a long time ago, he was 17 in his first real relationship, he was probably just confused.”

“Then why is he acting so friendly with you now? In fact why are you acting so friendly with him? You like him don’t you! And don’t give me the it’s because we’re being civil crap.”

“I think he’s just missed me and is just happy to see me, despite what we’ve gone through. I feel the same, even if it’s still complicated with him.” (Name) confessed.

“I’m going out with some friends Friday night you guys should both come and I can assess the vibe.” Margo said.

“Assess away, but you’re going to come up empty handed.” She warned.

Following the whale watching, Vivienne had taken her, Steve and her mum to a painting class.

She leant over to Steve and whispered. “Do you think we’re going to have to paint a naked person?”

“If we do, I’m leaving.” He whispered back.

Thankfully there was no nudity and it was instead a bowl of fruit. After half an hour of painting her canvas resembled blobs of colour rather than any object.

“There’s a reason I’m a writer and not an artist.” She joked, then peered at Steve’s canvas. “Wow.”

He smirked. “There’s a reason I’m an artist and not a writer.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

They all arrived back at the house in high spirits and at dinner talked animatedly about the painting class.

“Your son’s a natural Clyde, that graphic design major is paying off.” Her mum said.

“Could you draw me?” Her dad asked Steve.

Steve smiled and nodded. “Yeah probably.”

 “I’ve always wanted a hand drawn picture of myself.” Her dad said.

Her mum scoffed. “We can hang it up on the wall like Henry the 8th.”

 “I’ll add a crown in too free of charge.” Steve said cheekily, this made her dad chuckle.

He was the exact kind of guy her parents would love for her to bring home. She stopped eating when she realised what she’d thought.

“Don’t encourage him.” Clyde said.

“What’s that supposed to mean dad?” Steve immediately asked.

“That this whole art obsession, is just a phase. I wouldn’t mind if you switched mathematics to your major.”

Steve carried on eating. “No, I like what I’m doing.”

“I was able to accept that you let basketball and football go by the way side and I made peace with the fact that for two years you didn’t bother to apply for college. Then you did go to college and it wasn’t even an ivy league. But if you’re as good at maths as you claim then get a real qualification in it and come work for me after graduation next year.” Clyde implored.

Steve finally looked at his dad. “Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want to live my life exactly like you, that I’m my own person? Business doesn’t interest me, but graphic design does.”

“I’m done trying to guide you, be a disappointment for all I care.” Clyde said bitterly.

“Clyde, I think that’s enough.” Vivienne snapped, everyone went still usually she wasn’t so assertive with him.

“Look at you putting me in my place.” Clyde mocked taking a swig of his wine.

Vivienne glowered at him, she briefly glanced at the bottle of wine but instead drunk her water.

As if by instinct (Name) gently took Steve’s hand under the table. He didn’t look at her but he squeezed her hand back in thanks.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Later that evening she knocked on his bedroom door.

“Come to tell me to turn my music down?” He joked, but the sadness in his eyes gave him away.

“No, I just wanted to see if you were okay?” She asked.

He waved a hand. “That was a regular Wednesday for my dad.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to-“

“I’m fine, I promise.” He told her softly, she nodded knowing when to pick her battles.

“Did you want to go out Friday night with me and Margo?” She asked.

He nodded and managed a smile. “Yeah actually, I’d love to.”

The way he was casually leaning against the door frame and smiling so easily at her, made her head swim. This was the exact moment she realised.

 “Nice.” She smiled bashfully. “I’ll let you get back to whatever guy thing you were doing.”

She paused aware of how it sounded, he stifled a laugh.

“Not like that obviously! Not that it’s anything to be ashamed of if you do or don’t-“ She stopped and clapped her hands together. “I’m just going to go to bed, goodnight.”

Once she was safely in her bedroom she buried her burning face in her hands. It was possible that Margo was nearly right, at least about her.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Thursday July 13th

When she woke up the next morning the house was eerily quiet. She went to check the patio that was next to the pool and found it to be devoid of life.

“They’ve gone to some wine tasting festival.”

She jumped out of her skin, Steve sat at the outside table eating cereal.

She put a hand to her chest. “You nearly sent me into cardiac fucking arrest.”

He smirked at her. “Need me to grab my defibrillator?”

She playfully rolled her eyes, then remembered their conversation and her own realisation from the night before. She sat in the furthest chair away from him, he looked a little confused but moved past it.

“What should we do?” Steve asked her.

“We?” She asked intrigued.

“If you feel that way, then never mind.” He said pretending to take offense.

She grinned. “What did you have in mind?”

That was how she found herself surfing competitively against Steve, when he got knocked off by a particularly large wave she laughed so hard her stomach hurt. After a while they sat by the shore to rest.

“I’ve missed being here.” He told her.

“This view never gets old.” She agreed.

He pointed to himself. “You mean this view?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She chuckled splashing some water at him, he grinned at her.

“I’m glad we get to hangout like this again, I’ve really missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” She found herself saying.

His face became more serious. “I’m really sorry about what happened 6 years ago, about everything. I’m sorry for ditching you when we were kids and then ignoring you. I was just young and immature, I wanted as dumb as it sounds for other people to see me as one of the guys.”

Her eyes widened hardly believing this conversation was finally happening.

“And having a female friend got in the way of that?”

He shook his head. “No, it was that with you I could share things I couldn’t with anyone else. You made me vulnerable in a way that my dad taught me to be ashamed of, that it was bad if some sort of weakness could be sensed in me. I already struggled in school I didn’t want another reason to not fit in.”

“And unfortunately, our friendship was at the cost of that.” She said quietly.

 “I was the literal worst.” He laughed sadly. “I hope you can forgive me, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”

She exhaled heavily. “I won’t deny that I’ve spent the past few years so fucking angry with you, but equally and I guess being older gives you more perspective, we were just kids. You made mistakes, I did too. No one is perfect and I think it’s unfair to go your whole life tying yourself in knots because of some shit you did as a teenager.” She smiled at him. “I’ll say it right now, I forgive you.”

He took her hand in his and threaded his fingers through hers. “You’re too good for me, you always were.”

Her heart sped up as he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles.

 What she was starting to feel for him was so enormous it frightened her, she suspected it was possible he may feel the same. Even though he’d changed and she cared about him so much, she didn’t fully trust that he wouldn’t hurt her again. It was safer to keep her feelings to herself and hope they would return to their platonic nature.

The wind had picked up and the waves were getting bigger some people were starting to swim in. She pulled her hand out of his and reached for her surf board.

“I’m going to try my luck.”

“They’re pretty high are you sure it’s safe?”

 “I’ll be careful, I promise.” She said warmly.

He let her go, clearly knowing it was pointless to try stop her.

The first wave wasn’t too bad and the second was a little tricky, but then came the third. The water was growing choppier by the second, she heard the life guard blow their whistle. She’d ride this one then go back to shore she thought. The wave crashed over her, sucking her into its’ depths, she fought to swim to the surface as she was thrown about underwater.

She came to the surface gasping for air and barely made it to the sand before she was lying on her back exhausted. A small crowd of people gathered around her.

“Miss, are you alright?” The life guard who was barely 16 asked her.

“Sorry excuse me.” A voice said coming through the crowd, Steve appeared at her side. “Hey it’s me.”

He helped her stand, as she tried to walk a stinging pain went through her leg. The crowd cleared for them as they started to walk away.

“Ow.” She hissed.

“What is it?” He fretted.

She panted. “I think I did something to my leg.”

“Are you able to take your wet suit off?”

The idea of having to bend to peel off the clinging material seemed impossible in that moment.

She shook her head.

“Want me to?” He suggested.

She hesitated, this was the last thing she should let him do as it would infiltrate her every waking thought. But she had no other choice.

“Go for it.” She said hoarsely.

He knelt down and start to pull down the wet suit to reveal her bikini, although he’d seen her in one before she’d never felt so exposed in front of him. He helped her step out of the wet suit.

 She peered down, there was a cut just above her knee.

Steve delicately touched the skin just above the cut. “It doesn’t look deep enough to need stiches but it’s gonna need to be cleaned.” He looked up at her.

There was something about seeing him knelt down gazing up at her that made her shiver.

He passed her the wet suit she held it to her chest a little flustered.

“Ready?” Steve said putting his arm around her shoulder.

 She nodded. “Yeah.”

She barely even made it one step. “No this isn’t happening. You’re just going to have to leave me, save yourself.” She gasped out.

“I’ve got an idea, put your arms around my neck.”

She did as he asked. “I’m not sure how this is help-woah.” With total ease he lifted her up into arms and carried her down the beach.

“You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.” She joked.

He let out a tired laugh. “Only you.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Steve set her down on the kitchen counter and searched in the cupboard for the first aid kit.

He bought it over to where she was sat. “You’re lucky my mom’s got like five of these lying around.”

“You know I can do it myself, you’ve done more than enough for one day!”

He left the first aid kit next to her, the cut was at an awkward angle. She tried to lean forward to inspect her leg and nearly went toppling off the counter.  “Ok maybe you can do a little more.” 

He let out a soft huff of amusement.

He poured some disinfectant onto some cotton wood and stood between her legs as he dabbed at the cut, she winced.

“Sorry.” He muttered, then placed a large plaster over the cut. “Done.”

His hands came to rest on the counter either side of her. “How are you feeling?”

He smelt like aftershave and saltwater, it was overwhelming. “Better.” She murmured.

His vision flickered to her lips, if she tilted her head just a little more she’d be kissing him. She leant forward and instead placed a hand on his check quickly kissed it. When she pulled back she noticed a faint blush on his face.

“Thank you for taking care of me I really do appreciate but I think I need to go have a lie down.” She told him, he moved back so she could slide down off the counter top.

He touched where her lips had been. “Yeah see you later.” He said, staring after her.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Friday July 14th

“Mum have you seen my blue dress anywhere?”

“Did you not put it in your laundry basket?” Her mum asked.

“I could’ve sworn I did, maybe I left it in the dryer.” She deduced. “Do you know who dried their clothes after me?”

“I think it was Steve.”

She went to knock on his door but there no answer, she tried again, nothing. She called his name but there was only silence. He was probably somewhere else in the house. She carefully pushed his door and to her delight saw the laundry basket on his bed. That was when she heard the sound of running water being turned off, he was in the god damn bathroom.

“Shit.” She whispered rummaging through his laundry, she had to get out fast.

The bathroom door opened, time almost slow down as she looked over to see him stood there with only a towel hanging dangerously low around his waist.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry.” She screeched looking away.

“Why are you in my room?!” He asked the pitch rising.

She found the blue dress and grabbed it.

She shielded her eyes as she held up the dress. “I came for this but I’ll uh leave you now, sorry again.” She hurried out the room.

Once in the safety of her room she begun to pace the floor as her mind replayed the events of the past week. When they’d met that first morning on the beach, the necklace at the market, the way he’d look at her on the boat, their conversation by the shore when he’d held her hand, how he’d carried in his arms, how he’d glanced to her lips after dressing her injury and now when she’d seen him in a complete near state of undress.

She was nervous of going out that evening, she was afraid to do something she might regret. She’d always considered herself to have a good handle on most situations, but in the face of the inevitable did she have any control?

A couple hours later she’d managed to compose herself and was sat in a taxi on the way to meet Margo at the bar. She’d been unable to look Steve in the eye.

She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t think anyone was in your bedroom.”

 “It’s okay, it wasn’t a big deal.” He told her kindly.

She pat his arm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself I didn’t see much but it certainly was a big-“

She saw the mild shock on his face. “Oh you meant the situation.” She let her hands fall into her lap.

Tonight was going to be a challenge.

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Anyway, what are Margo’s friends like.” He said changing the subject.

“They’re nice, I think you met them that time at the beach bonfire back when we were 17.”

“I remember that.” He wrinkled his nose. “That’s when Tommy went streaking.”

“If it helps he didn’t have a big deal.” She nervously joked and to her relief after a few seconds he actually laughed.

“So you and Steve? I think I was right.” Margo slyly said whilst they were waiting for their drinks at the bar.

She nodded. “Yeah you were spot on, I like him.”

Margo slapped (Name’s) shoulder. “I fucking knew you liked him!”

“Keep your voice!” She pleaded. “He doesn’t know I have feelings for him and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Why though? He obviously likes you.”

 “I’m going back to New York in two days and he’ll be back in Indiana soon.”

“It doesn’t need to be anything serious. You work your ass off all the time why not have some fun for once?” Margo cackled.

 “It would be a very very bad idea, because I’d want it to be more than just some fling. If we hook up, I’m not getting over that, it’ll really hurt me.”

 “Maybe he doesn’t want to just hook up?”

“He’s a 23 year old guy Margo that’s all they want to do. He’s different now sure, I just don’t think he’s so different that he’d do long distance.”

Margo frowned. “All I’m saying is you’re never going to know what he wants if you’re over here speculating with me, talk to him and go from there.”

She tugged at her hair. “I just don’t know.”

“Talk to him tomorrow but enjoy tonight.” Margo warmly said. “Come on let’s take the shots back to the table.”

When they were back at the table, Steve was immersed in conversation with one of Margo’s friends.

“We come back baring shots!” Margo exclaimed, as they both set the small glasses out on the table.

“Cheers.” She said clinking her glass to Steve’s.

“Cheers.” He replied knocking back the shot.

The shot burnt her throat and warmed her body, she’d already been buzzed before but she knew it’d hit her in a few minutes.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

An hour and 2 more shots later she was past tipsy, so was everyone else.

She stared up at him, swaying slightly.

“What?” He asked amused.

“You’re just so cute.” She admitted, booping his nose.

“Thank you?” He laughed, he was clearly little more sober than her.

She fisted the material of his shirt. “You just don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“How stuck in my head I get about you, it drives me crazy. I wish you knew how much I-“ She stopped talking.

“How much you what?” He asked.

New music started.

“Oh my god I love this song!” She cried grabbing his wrist. “Let’s go dance.”

She started to lead him away. “Did you not wanna finish your sentence?”

She couldn’t recall what she’d said.

“We’ll dance first then you can tell me what it is I have to tell you.” She slurred.

Margo gave her a thumbs up, she gave a thumbs up back not really understanding why.

“Spin me around!” She told him, he chuckled twirling her.

“Now it’s your turn.”

He raised a brow. “What?”

“Less talking more spinning.” She scolded and twirled her 6 foot friend around. “Wasn’t that fun!”

 “Suprisingly, yeah.” He grinned at her. “I’ve really liked hanging out with you this week.”

She beamed. “Me too.”

“I like a lot about you.” He confessed. “I like you in a way that’s different than I feel with other people.”

She didn’t say anything her head was getting dizzy from all the dancing and drink.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you?” He asked.

Before she could have a chance to respond she could feel herself stumbling over, Steve caught her and she started giggling.

“I’m so sorry I am so drunk right now!” She snorted

He looked at her disappointed. “Let’s get you home.”

He guided her through the dance floor and to where their table was.

“Margo I’m gonna take her home.” Steve said, one arm around her.

“Good plan.” She smiled.

She hugged Margo. “Margo you’re the best, you’re such a good friend.”

Margo patted her on the back. “You’re a great friend too!” She passed her back to Steve. “Safe journey back guys.”

As they left the bar, they ran into a familiar face. It was Tyler.

“Look who it is.” (Name) cheered holding her hand up for him to high five.

Tyler gave her a weak high five and looked to Steve. “Is she-“

“A bit drunk, yes.” Steve replied curtly, the bromance between them was obviously gone.

“Oh wait I just remembered that I don’t like you.” She lightly slapped Tyler’s arm.

As they walked away she called over her shoulder. “Don’t go tricking anyone into truth or dare or I’ll find you!” She sung.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

When they returned home everyone was asleep, he took her up to her bedroom. She sat on her bed swaying her legs, he came back in with a glass water. “Drink all of this okay?”

“Yes mum.” She slurred gulping down the water.

When she was done she gave the glass to Steve, she pat the space on the bed next to her. “Come sit here.”

“Maybe you should get some sleep?” He suggested.

She shook her head. “Later, first sit.”

He took a seat next to her, even in her uninhibited state she could acknowledge how good he looked, his hair was dishevelled and shirt a little open.

She turned to face him. “What made you change so much?” She bluntly asked.

“I finally got a skin care routine-“

“No not that, why are you not in some college fraternity called delta zeta gamma ray.”

 “Sadly Purdue doesn’t have a fraternity with that name.”

She poked him in the chest. “Answer the question!”

He chuckled. “I just like teasing you.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “The reason I changed was because of the friends I made, real friends. Once I graduated high school all of the stuff that was important, just stopped. And I realised that there were people who liked me as I was, not just because I had great hair or was on the basketball team. For the first time since being friends with you I had people on my side.”

“I’m so happy for you. You seriously deserve to have people like that in your life.” Her mouth curved up. “Are you still with that girl?”

“You mean Nancy? God no, we broke up ages ago, we’re good friends now. She actually just got engaged.”

 “Good for her, that’s nice.”

“Engaged to the guy she left me for.”

She grit her teeth. “Less nice.”

He shrugged. “He’s a decent guy and I have to say they make way more sense than me and her ever did.”

 “Wow marriage, I haven’t even had a boyfriend yet.” She huffed.

“Never?”

“No sir.”

He moved a little closer. “Is there anyone at the moment?”

“Sort of, but can you keep a secret?” She hiccupped.

“Yes, yeah I can.”

She beckoned him forward. “Come closer so I can tell you.”

When he was close enough she placed both hands in his face and went to lean in to kiss him, her lips barely grazed his before he was pulling back from her.

The rejection stung her, she got off the bed. “Oh god why did I do that?” She groaned.

He stood up too. “It’s fine really!”

She shut her eyes. “It’s not, that was so incredibly dumb, I shouldn’t have tried to kiss someone who doesn’t want to kiss me.”

“I-I do.” He confessed.

She opened her eyes. “You do?”

His hand came to cup the side of her face.  “It’s not a no, it’s a no right now. I don’t wanna kiss you when you’re drunk.”

There were butterflies in her stomach. “Oh okay.”

His thumb traced her cheek bone. “Tomorrow I’ve gotta help my mum set up for the party but later on why don’t we finally talk, how does that sound?”

She smiled shyly. “Sounds good.”

He pressed a kissed to her forehead. “Get some sleep.”

As soon as he left her bedroom she was fast asleep.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Saturday July 15th

She spent the entire morning with a throbbing head ache curled up in bed. When she’d made herself semi-presentable she left her room to get some lunch. Her memory was blurry and everything after leaving the bar was totally blank.

“Hey.” Steve said coming into the kitchen holding a box of wine glasses.

“Hi.” She replied.

He put down the box and came over to her pressing a kiss to her cheek, she stepped back and touched where he’d been.

“Why did you do that?” She asked perplexed.

 “Do you not remember last night?..”

 “I don’t remember much at all, I can’t remember even getting home.”

His shoulders dropped. “So you don’t know what happened.”

“Wait what happened?!”

Last night began to return to her.

She put a hand over her mouth as it hit her. “I tried to kiss you!”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah you did.”

Then she recalled what he’d said after.

Her eyes widened. “And you wanted to kiss me, but didn’t want to do when I was drunk..”

“And if I did that what do you think that means?” He carefully asked, waiting for her to put the pieces together.

“That you like me.” She breathed.

 “I really like you. And I think that maybe- there’s part of you that feels the same?”

She couldn’t hide from it anymore.

“Steve, I won’t deny that there’s things I’ve felt for you this week that go beyond just friendship but,” She sighed, “I’m going back to New York tomorrow and you’ll be back at college in a few weeks. There’s no point starting anything now.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care about the distance, I want to try.”

“You might not care about the distance at first but eventually it’ll become a problem.”

“No it won’t.”

“But it will!” She insisted. “You’re a young good-looking guy still at college, you don’t want to long distance, you should be hooking up with the cute girl in that one lecture who keeps smiling at you. Trust me I’m saving you the pain.”

His expression hardened. “Don’t tell me what I want. I don’t want some meaningless fling with someone I barely know, I want you.”

��Until the better option comes around.” She blurted out.

 “There is no better option there’s only you!”

 “It’s a bad idea, I’m sorry but-no.”

He looked away from her his jaw clenched.

She put a hand on his arm to try to turn him towards her. “Hey, hey Steve, come on this doesn’t need to be a sad thing, I’m just trying to be practical.” She said gently.

He moved away from her, too angry to even look in her direction.

“Why do you keep doing that?” He snapped. “Why do you keep pulling away from me every time we get the slightest bit close to something happening. You aren’t trying to protect me, you’re trying to protect yourself.”

“That’s not what I’m doing!” She exclaimed.

“I know I did bad things but I’m getting really tired of having to prove to you and to everyone just how much I’ve changed.” He finally looked at her, eyes glossy with unshed tears, her chest ached. “What is so fucking wrong with me that people can’t love me?! I’m not a monster, I’m a person.” He said voice cracking.

She felt like someone had sawed through her heart. “I didn’t know you felt that way.” She said trembling.

Tears slipped down his face, he wiped at his eyes. “Well, you wouldn’t would you, no one would.” He inhaled shakily.

He reached into his pocket. “Here.” He said throwing her something.

When she opened her hands, it was none other than the necklace from the market.

She gawped at him “When did you..”

“I was going to give it you tonight, but you may as well have it now.”  He grabbed the box from the counter top and left before she could stop him.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

She sat at her vanity ready for the party. She’d had a lot of time to think about her conversation with Steve and how he had been right about how she felt, she was scared of just how much he could hurt her. But in turn not being together was hurting them both so much more. She delicately touched the pendant of the necklace, her old matching bracelet sat on her wrist. She wanted to sob when she looked at the little golden S.

There was a knock at the door, she hurried to the door in hopes that it was-

“Vivienne hi.” She said.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Vivienne chuckled. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah of course.”

She moved out of the way, then shut her bedroom door. Vivienne perched on the end of her bed and smooth the skirts of her green dress.

“You look gorgeous dear.” Vivienne complimented.

 “Thanks so do you.”

Vivienne crossed her arms and looked at her softly with concern. “We need to talk.”

She sat down next to her apprehensively. “About what?”

“About how insane both you and my son are driving one another, it’s like wuthering heights in here.” Vivienne tutted.

 “How did you figure it out?”

“Mother’s intuition.” She shook her head. “I overheard you both in the kitchen.”

“Oh god you heard all of that?” She groaned.

“You did have quite a heated conversation in the middle of a public space so yes I heard.”

 “Well then I’m sure you know that it’s over before it began.”

“Only if you don’t try sweetie.”

“But that’s what I’m afraid of, what if it doesn’t work out?”

 “When you get to my sage age of 50-48 if anyone asks!” She chuckled. “You learn what love is and what it isn’t, sometimes it’s worth the risk. And this is coming from someone who’s only found it for the first time in her adult life.”

She raised her brows. “But you and Mr Harrington..”

“Are getting a divorce. I split up with him sometime ago.”

“Why doesn’t anyone know?”

“Steve does, I told him as soon as it happened. Both Clyde and I wanted to take our time with publicly announcing it. My party will be the last time we’re ‘together’.” She did air quote marks with her fingers.

“Wow.” She said. “Good for you.”

Vivienne put an arm around her.  “It’s wonderful but I can’t be happy until I know that you kids are. What you both have is real and maybe it isn’t going to be easy or it might not last but you both deserve the chance to experience it.”

“I’ve probably ruined any chance of ever having it.” She admitted sadly.

Vivienne gave her a sly grin. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, talk to him I think you’ll be surprised.”

She smiled back weakly. “I’ll try.”

“No more moping.” Vivienne sprung up. “We’ve got a party to enjoy!” She held out her hand pulling (Name) to her feet.

“Who’s this person you’re in love with then?” She asked.

“His name’s Pierre, he’s a French photographer, incredibly cliché I know but he’s a good man, he makes me the happiest I’ve ever been.” Vivienne told her.

She linked her arm through hers. “You deserve to be happy.”

Vivienne squeezed her arm. “So do you sweetie.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The party was in full swing and she still hadn’t seen Steve, she however had run into Margo and Tyler who had come with their parents.

“Hey guys.” She said approaching them.

“Hey.” Margo replied hugging her whilst Tyler politely smiled.

“Tyler sorry about last night.” She apologised.

Margo snorted. “He told me.”

Tyler huffed. “I probably deserved it, I should be the one apologising to you.”

Tyler paused Margo elbowed him. “You actually have to say it.”

Tyler rolled her eyes and sighed. “(Name) I’m very sorry for being-“ He looked to his sister. “An annoying dick head with shitty hair.”

Margo burst out laughing.

“Did you tell him to say that?” She asked amused.

Tyler nodded grimly. “Yes she did.”

“Apology accepted.” She told Tyler, who finally deflated with relief.

“You guys haven’t seen Steve anywhere have you?” She asked.

“Why do you wanna know? Gonna pick up where you left off at the bar last night.” Margo suggestively said.

“It’s actually about what happened after the bar I need to talk to him, we got in a fight this morning.”

“I think I saw him go the beach.” Tyler said.

She frowned. “The beach?”

Tyler shrugged. “No idea why.”

“I’m going to go speak to him.” She said going to leave.

“Goodluck!” Margo called.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

When she was at the beach she saw Steve in the distance smoking alone by the shore, she could just about make him out.

“Steve!” She shouted from down the beach, he immediately looked in her direction.

She started walking but found the gorgeous heels she had chosen kept sinking into the sand.

“Jesus christ.” She hissed and quickly removed the heels letting them dangle from her wrist.

She picked up the skirt of her dress and ran to where he was.

He stubbed out his cigarette when he saw her. “(Name)?”

She stopped running and smiled at him. “Hi.”

He opened his mouth to talk but she stopped him. “Before you say anything I just need to get a few things straightened out.”

He nodded. “Yeah, go for it.”

“It’s my turn to apologise to you. I don’t know where you’re getting this notion from that you’re some unlovable monster because I know for a fact there are people in this life who like you exactly as you are, I should know since I’m one of them. You’re kind and funny and literally one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.” His face softened as she spoke. “And I’m so god damn sorry that it’s taking until,” She locked down at her watch and laughed, “14 hours before my flight to tell you that I’m so unbelievably, stupidly, in love with you.” Her chest heaved up and down, a little breathless from the amount she’d just said.

He just blinked at her, dazed.

“This is usually when the other person says something.” She nervously said.

He walked towards her, and was so close that the shoes on her wrist tapped against him. He took them off her wrist and they fell to the floor. He cupped her face and softly pressed his lips to hers. She sighed as his lips moved deliciously against hers. After a few seconds he stopped kissing her.

Her lips tingled from where he’d kissed her. “Yeah, that’s a good answer.” She stammered.

He smiled down at her softly. “I love you too, so much.”

“You were right by the way I was afraid-still am afraid of letting myself get swept up in this.” She gestured between both of them. “It's worth all of the risk.”

“I have a feeling that this might last.” He said warmly.

“I do too.” She smiled at him. “I’m sorry about your parents getting a divorce, by the way. Your mum told me.”

“Don’t be, I’ve never seen her this alive, she doesn’t drink anymore and she’s with someone that actually respects her.”

She shook her head fondly. “Only your mother would end up with a French photographer. Do you like him?”

He nodded. “Yeah I do." He nodded. "As much as I like talking Pierre I’d rather go back to talking about us!”

She raised a brow. “So we’re an us now are we?”

“You’re the one who ran down the beach to confess your love to me.” He scoffed.

“And you’re the one who got my favourite heels sandy.” She jokingly scolded. “Why did you just throw them on the ground.”

He sighed. “Yeah, it felt like sexy at the time, sorry.”

She grinned. “I’m just teasing it was sexy, although you will be buying me a new pair.”

He chuckled. “Shut up.” His eyes dipped down to her neck and he picked up the necklace.

“It’s lovely thank you.” She told him then held up her wrist with the bracelet. “And thank you for this as well.”

He began to laugh she furrowed her brow. “You don’t have to laugh.” She huffed.

“No I’m not I’m not, it’s just funny cause-” He rolled back his sleeve to show his own bracelet.

Her mouth fell open. “I thought you got rid of it.”

He touched it tenderly. “I’d never throw this away.”

She leant up and gave him a chaste kiss.

“Do you wanna go back to the party?” She asked.

“Sure.” He agreed, she held out her hand and he smiled taking it.

“My mouth kind of tastes like smoke now.” She said as they walked down the beach.

“So does mine.”

“You were the one smoking.”

“I could stop but I think you find it too hot.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “I also find you quitting even hotter.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Anything for you.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Sunday July 16th

2 am

 “There’s something I wanted to ask you.” She said, they were in his bed she was nestled against him, head resting on his bare chest.

He stroked her hair. “Ask away.”

She shifted so her chin was resting on her arm. “When we went back to school that summer after we were 14, I called your house and your dad picked up, I told him to get you to call me. He never passed that message onto you did he?”

 “I didn’t even know you called, so yeah no he didn’t.” He gently caressed her face with his hand. “I would’ve if he’d told me.”

 “I knew you would’ve.”

“I wish I’d made things right with you sooner.” His chest rose and fell in a deep breath, as if letting go of something heavy.

She kissed his jaw. “Let’s just focus on now.”

They looked at each other softly and he smiled at her. “Do you find it crazy that we literally just slept together.”

 “Yeah but in a good way, like this is so amazing there’s no way it can be actually happening.” She laughed.

He laughed too. “Oh it’s happening.”

She gave him a saucy look. “If you come visit me in New York it’ll be happening all the time.”

“You’re such a flirt, I’d almost think you have a crush on me.” He wryly said.

"You know what." She pretended to gasp. “I think I do have a crush on you.”

“No I think you love me.” He teased.

“You’re done.” She sung and put a hand over his mouth.

He said it again but this time it was muffled, she took away her hand.

“I really do love you.” She said genuinely.

“I love you too.” He said softly.

 2 years later: July 16th 1992

“Is this everything?” She asked, as they stood in their new apartment, boxes taking up every inch of space.

“Why, do you have another 10 boxes of clothing?” He teased.

 “I’m sorry that I like to look cute.” She nudged him. “When did you say your friends are coming to stay by the way?”

“The 30th.”

“You excited?”

“Yeah I can’t wait!”

“It’s going to be a lot of fun, I really liked them the first time we met.”

“They loved you, maybe even more than me.” He grinned.

“The only person that loves you more than me are my parents.” She laughed.

Her parents had been over the moon when she’d told them about her and Steve, immediately asking when the wedding would be. Vivienne was delighted but she’d known from the start they’d end up together. As for Clyde, whilst things were still rocky he had actually started to call Steve more and try fix what was broken between them. At Steve’s college graduation she’d thought she’d even nearly seen him cry with pride, when his son has walked across the stage to get his diploma.

He walked towards the window she joined him, the view of New York staring back at them.

“I’m thinking that this would be a great spot for you to do your writing.” He suggested.

 “Oo so true, although I worry the view might distract me, I only just got my own column at work I don’t want to screw it up just yet.”

 “You could never.”

“How’re you feeling about your first day tomorrow?”

“Like I’m going to screw it up.” He huffed.

 “You’ll be fine!”

“God I’m lucky I have you.” He said resting his head on top of hers.

She put her head on his shoulder. “I’ll never stop thinking how lucky we both are to finally have each other.”

PART 2

[separatist-apologist]

Something In The Orange

Summary: Someone is trying to murder Eris Vanserra's soon-to-be wife.

And no one can rule him out as a suspect

Note: Big thanks to @octobers-veryown for the mood board and the unknown anon for the song inspiration.

For @sjmromanceweek

Read On AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Arina might have escaped the deep humiliation of the night before had her father not caught wind of it. Rumor spread like wildfire and one little servant walking in on what was a mostly harmless scene had ballooned into a tawdry affair between herself and Eris.

They were betrothed. Who cared? But her father did, if his purpling face was any indication. He said nothing when he stepped into her private sitting room, closing the door quietly before turning to face her.

Arina rose to her feet, setting her book face down on the sofa beneath her. 

“What were you thinking?” her father demanded, reaching for her shoulders to yank her closer. “You’ve messed everything up!”

“I—”

“I have been negotiating your contract for better terms and now…” he took a breath, his disgust plain. 

“It wasn’t what it looked—”

Her father struck her hard enough that Arina stumbled sideways, tripping into the sharp edge of a side table. “I don’t care what it wasn’t,” her father hissed, his rage bright and hot. “All you had to do was sit in this fucking room like I told you to and everything would be finished.”

“I’m sorry—”

“For what?” 

Arina and her father turned to look at Eris, lounging against the doorframe like usual. His body was so casual that Arina might have thought this was just another visit had she not seen the utter rage burning in his amber eyes. 

“What are you sorry for, Arina?”

Humiliation burned in the back of her throat. Of course he’d take her fathers side. She couldn’t look at him, trying desperately to control her breathing. “I should have stayed in my room.” There was a pause during which Arina didn’t dare look up. She hated Eris all over again. All the feelings she’d had winked out, vanished like they’d never existed at all. So this was the sort of man he was—at least she knew. Better now than after she’d built him up in her head only to be let down and disappointed.

Eris’s boots clipped over the marble and she wondered if he’d punish her too.

I didn’t regret you. I do now. 

Ignoring her father, Eris lifted Arina’s chin with his pointer finger. “That was a rhetorical question,” he murmured, eyes scanning her face. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Eris turned whip fast and shoved her father so hard he fell over the sofa before slamming to the floor. Arina clapped her hand over her mouth while Eris circled the furniture, fingers curling into a fist. 

“If you put your hands on her again, I’ll kill you,” he said as though they were merely discussing the weather. “Do you understand me?”

Her father spat blood on the floor, clearly livid. “Yes.”

“Yes your majesty,” Eris instructed, sliding his hands in his pockets. “Say it.”

“Ye—”

“Not to me. To her,” Eris interrupted with a vicious smile. 

“Eris,” Arina whispered, well aware that this was going to do more harm than good. “It’s fine. Everything is fine.”

“Say it,” Eris snarled, pressing his boot against her fathers hand. 

“Yes, your majesty,” her father spat, forcing himself to look at her. Arina’s heart sank at the sight of him sprawled against the floor. No matter what Eris thought, Arina knew she’d pay dearly for this moment. Somehow, some way, her father would exact punishment for the humiliation of it all. She wished Eris had just let her handle things silently. She could endure, just as she always had. This was too much, had gone too far.

“Go,” Eris said in that bored, snotty tone of his. Her father did, trying to dust himself off and retain some measure of his dignity before striding from the room. Arina didn’t exhale until the door was closed pointedly behind them, her fathers silent fury echoing through her mind. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Arina whispered when Eris turned to look at her.

“No? What would you have preferred?” he asked, cocking his head as though he were genuinely curious. Arina had to banish the image of him sitting on the other side of the bathroom door and his penis—no. She wasn’t going to think about it because it would make her want him, and she needed to focus on her anger. 

“You should have let me handle it!” she snapped. Eris made his way toward her, lovely in a fine, hunter green jacket with gold filigree. Had he done that on purpose? 

“Help me understand. In the future, you want me to let you handle a man slapping you across the face? Is that what you’re asking me?” Eris demanded, his voice low and lethal. 

“You’ve made everything worse,” she whispered. Eris cupped her face in his hand, thumb brushing against the hot, inflamed skin.

“He won’t come near you again if he knows what's good for him. That wasn’t an idle threat,” Eris murmured, eyes searching her own. 

“I don’t need your help,” she snapped, pulling away from his touch. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“So? I gave it to you anyway.”

“Well I don’t want it,” she informed him, wishing Eris would leave her to patch up her wounded pride in peace. 

“This is about last night.”

She was going to actually kill him. Of course he thought that she was angry with him but Arina had woken up with a stupid smile on her face. True, being drugged to want him wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined kissing him for the first time but she’d been right about it being a good way to get over her own nerves. Before her father showed up, she’d been hoping Eris would come see her. 

“This has nothing to do with last night,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to alleviate some of her frustration. 

“No?”

If she turned around, Arina knew her resolve would waiver. She’d see his face, his concern, and she’d give into the feelings coursing through her.

“I need to think,” she lied. She needed to get away from him just long enough that she could have a rational conversation with him. “Alone.”

Eris trotted after her as she swept from the room, an unwanted, handsome shadow. “Explain why you’re angry with me.”

“How—how do you not know?” she demanded, catching a glimpse of his confusion from the corner of her eye. “You know he’s going to retaliate the minute you’re not around.”

“Then I’ll kill him,” Eris said simply with a shrug of broad shoulders. “I wasn’t joking when I warned him not to touch you.”

“How would you know, Eris?” Arina demanded, shoving through a pair of double doors that led toward the courtyard.

“You’ll tell me,” he replied, so certain of this fact.

“Why would I do that? You just assured me you’d have him killed—”

“Because you’re my wife,” Eris interrupted, clearly exasperated. “You owe your loyalty to me, not your father.”

“I’m—first of all, I’m not your wife. Not yet. Maybe not ever at the rate the wedding keeps getting pushed back. But secondly, just because I marry you doesn’t mean I want to see my father executed!”

“What do you mean, not yet?” Eris demanded, catching Arina by the elbow and spinning her around.

“Just what I said,” she protested. Eris looked over the top of her head toward the long retaining wall in the distance behind them. Arina knew it well—it had been the first thing she’d seen when she first came to the palace. Beside her, Apollo’s ears flattened against his head as he let out a low warning growl. 

Eris didn’t give Arina a chance to react. With more force than she thought was warranted, he grabbed her by her shoulders and thrust her to the ground, falling gracelessly atop her. 

“Eris!” she protested with a rough exhale of air. His body was a solid mass of muscle. Arina tried to push him off, but her fingers met a wet, sticky substance.

An arrow was protruding from Eris’s shoulder. One, no doubt, that had been meant for her. Where would it have struck her, she wondered? She doubted it would have found her shoulder. Eris looked up, wild eyed and furious, as guards began shouting and running in the direction of the bloodthirsty dog now a shadow in the distance. 

“You're hurt,” she whispered, touching his cheek with her fingertips. 

“Don’t move,” he ordered, bossy as ever. Eris made her lay there in the grass, body pinned beneath his own, until one of his guards gave the all clear. If they’d caught the assassin, no one said. Arina was left to help haul Eris to his feet while he insisted he was fine, arrow buried in his shoulder notwithstanding. 

“You’re fussing,” Eris complained, though something about the way he watched her told Arina that Eris didn’t mind too terribly.

“Stop talking,” she ordered, striding from his living room to the door where a healer was on their way.

“Yes, my love,” he muttered sarcastically. Arina stayed in that room even when the healer suggested she leave—as if seeing Eris shirtless was something scandalous given his cock had been out just the night before. With her arms crossed over her chest, Arina stated that given someone had tried to kill him, she’d supervise.

The healer didn’t like the insinuation but Arina remained, eyes trained on Eris even when she would have preferred to look away. Privately, she felt lost—adrift. He could have let her take the arrow. Why hadn’t he? It didn’t look particularly enjoyable having it removed and as the healer worked, Arina could see other scars faded against his toned, muscular form. 

When she circled around him, Arina thought she might be sick. His skin was an ode to cruelty, the lines of a whip etched so deeply into the canvas of his skin that Arina didn’t know how he’d survived any of the lashes. What could Eris possibly have done to warrant such torture?

He looked over his shoulder, eyes blazing a warning. Don’t.

She waited until he was bandaged up to hurry the healer out of the door. Eris was already on his feet, wincing in pain. “I need to speak to my father.” “You need to get in bed and rest,” Arina retorted, rounding on him so quickly that despite their height difference, Eris stumbled back a step. 

“Only if you get in bed with me,” Eris crooned, looking to regain some of his lost pride. Arina raked her eyes back down his naked chest, noting the way the muscles tapered toward his hips and what she knew was waiting just inside his pants. 

“You’re hurt,” she reminded him.

Eris shrugged. “I hurt less in your presence.”

“Liar.”

Eris’s hand flung to his heart, face filled with faux outrage. “I would never. Now, come lay down with me.”

He turned, revealing those criss-crossed scars once again. Arina sucked in a breath earning a groan of frustration in return. “Don’t,” he whispered.

“Who did that to you?”

“Why don’t you come to my bed and kiss it better,” Eris suggested, clearly unwilling to tell her the truth. Arina could piece it all together, though. As she trailed behind him, admiring how nice he was to look at, she thought of his extreme reaction to her father striking her.

Had it hit a little too close to home for him? Had he seen himself in her and decided he’d protect her even if he couldn’t protect himself? 

His bedroom was massive and just as nicely decorated as the rest of his space. Arina looked around, taking in the open windows pouring golden light against his large, velvet draped bed. A whole sitting area took up the other half of the room, with books stacked high on a glass table. She wanted to pick through them and see what Eris liked to read.

But he’d flopped into bed with a groan, his good arm thrown out in invitation. 

“Am I going to regret this?”

Eris flashed her his most charming smile. “Oh, almost certainly.”

And still, Arina got into his bed anyway.

ERIS:

In the end, he’d gotten what he wanted. Night had fallen and Arina was still in his bed. Propped up on a sea of pillows with a tray of food spread out over the bedspread, Arina listened as Eris explained each and every ruling family in his territory and why they either did or did not like them. 

Eris didn’t care about any of it. With each passing hour, Arina relaxed further, until she thought nothing of his arm touching her or how he was half undressed. Night had fallen and she was still beside him while Eris milked his injury for all it was worth. It did hurt, though a mixture of herbs had dulled the pain and Arina kept peeking at his bandages to make sure everything was healing up as it should.

“It’s getting late,” Arina told him when Eris finished, her eyes bright. “I should let you sleep—”

“You should stay,” he replied, his voice rougher than he would have liked. It caused her to look over, hair draped over her shoulder. Eris had been pulling out pins all afternoon simply for his own enjoyment. 

“I think you’re going to live,” she said, brushing a knuckle over his cheek. “You don’t need me.”

“Wrong,” he insisted, grabbing her wrist to pull her against him. “I do need you.”

She knew exactly what he wanted and Eris couldn’t bring himself to care. “Eris…”

“You know, I’ve never had to beg a woman to get into bed with me,” he informed her without thinking. Arina’s pleasant expression soured, nose wrinkling as he stupidly reminded her that he’d been with more women than he could count. 

She’d been with no one at all. The scales were wildly unbalanced between them. 

“Call one of them, then,” she said, pulling at her wrist. Eris only held tighter. He could salvage this, he decided. 

“I don’t want them. I want you.”

“Because you can’t have me. This is just obsession,” she said, more to herself than to him. Rising up with a soft groan, Eris reached for her face. “This is more than obsession, Arina.”

“You’ll get what you want and then you’ll be done.”

Oh, how he had once thought so. “If that were true it would be you with the bandaged arm begging me to stay with you.”

“What are you saying?” she asked breathlessly. What was he saying? Eris wasn’t sure he wanted to finish that train of thought. She wasn’t his wife yet…though…she could be. Eris released her wrist, his half-formed plan taking shape in his mind.

“Marry me,” he told her, looking at the woman beside him like it was the first time he was seeing her. “Tonight.”

“Oh, sure. Why not,” she replied, flashing a pretty smile.

“I’m serious. We’ll—we’ll go to the temple. Lucien and Elain can play witness. We’ll still have the big ceremony but…”

But they can’t take you from me if I marry you now. 

“I don’t mind waiting—”

“Well, I do mind. And I think once I’ve married you, the attacks might stop.” This was just a theory, of course. Eris intended to inform both her father and his of what he’d done and his rationale behind it. Their reactions would tell him everything he needed to know. The deal would be officially done, then. Wherever their negotiations landed, that's where they would stay. 

“Eris—”

“Say yes,” he said, rising from the bed with purpose. “Say yes and let’s get married.”

“All this just to see me naked?” she demanded. 

He shrugged. “It crossed my mind. Is it hard to believe I might want you as my wife?”

“No, it hadn’t.”

“Well, get comfortable with the thought. And get dressed,” he added, making his way to the armoire. 

“Is this not nice enough?” she asked, gesturing toward her rumpled blue dress. A new thought was occurring to Eris—if he made her look like a princess, someone might stop him before he finished his impulsive, scattered plan.

“You’re perfect,” he decided, shrugging on a lace up shirt. It took a moment to get his injured arm through the sleeve and Arina, the sweetheart, helped him with his jacket and then his boots. Once he was dressed, the pair stared at each other.

It was absurd. He could still back out.

“Ready?” he asked, heart hammering in his chest. Gods, he was actually doing this. More than that, Eris wanted to do it. Wanted to be better than his father, to have a relationship that made his mother proud. Maybe nothing had ever worked because he was waiting for her. Or maybe Arina was right and Eris merely wanted what he couldn’t have. 

It didn’t matter.

Right then, he wanted her. 

What happened next was a blur, even to Eris. He had to wake up his brother and track down Elain and sneak the four of them into the city and then heavily bribe his guards to remain where they were and keep their mouths shut. After that, the priestess took over. A license was drawn up, signed by Arina first while Eris stood there holding his breath, certain she wouldn’t.

The paper was all that mattered. Eris was quick to pull it from the priestesses hand, likely smearing the ink in his haste before he folded it into his jacket pocket.

Words were spoken. Willingly, even, which seemed unbelievable to Eris. Arina smiled through some of it, giving the impression she was happy with the circumstances surrounding the pair of them. Eris felt lighter the moment the priestess told him to kiss Arina—unburdened, somehow. 

“Father is going to kill you,” Lucien warned Eris as they walked back. “Are you prepared for his anger?” “He’s not going to care,” Eris insisted, but Lucien shook his head.

“Maybe not about the marriage. But he’ll care you went around him. I hope you have a plan for that.”

Eris took a breath. “I can handle father.”

Eris didn’t want to think about Beron right then and Lucien must have noticed. He herded Elain into a different corridor before the girls could make plans that involved anything but Eris unbuttoning Arina’s gown. 

She was waiting in his bedroom, eyes bright, a smile on her face. “All this just to see me naked, Eris. Was it worth it?”

“That depends,” he replied, closing the bedroom door with his foot. “Take off your dress.”

“Isn’t that your job?”

Eris lifted his injured arm as much as he could. “Help a man out.”

Offering him a look of exasperation, Arina began undoing the buttons on her dress. Eris noticed her trembling fingers and the way she was trying to hide her blushing face behind the long, thick strands of her hair. 

“Come here,” he murmured, perfectly pleased to finish what she’d started. Maybe she’d feel less nervous if it was his insistent hands touching her rather than demanding she strip for him. It was pure pleasure to push her sleeve from her shoulder revealing smooth, unblemished skin. Eris took his time, revealing her body inch by inch until she was standing in a band of firelight utterly naked. 

Holy Hells, he thought privately. “My wife,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against the side of her neck. “Who we are in here is whoever we want to be. Who we are once we leave this room are who we need to be. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she whispered softly, angling her neck so he could kiss her again. Brushing her hair to the side, Eris let his fingers trail over the length of her spine. For now, they’d have to be distant and cold around others—at least until Eris could be free of her father.

And maybe his, too.

That was a thought for another time, though. At the moment, Eris found himself staring down the naked body of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and he wanted to enjoy this moment. After all, Lucien might be right. Beron wouldn’t necessarily care that Eris had gone off and married Arina to end negotiations with her father, but he would likely care that Eris hadn’t obtained his permission first.

If he was going to be punished, at least let the pain be worth it. 

Using his fingertips to turn her chin, Eris kissed her like he’d been dreaming about. Ever since she’d kissed him in the hall under the influence, Eris had been trying to get back to the moment before he knew. When he thought it was all genuine and she just wanted him the way he wanted her. She was naked and he wasn’t which offered him a little bit of leverage. He held all the power in that moment, taking advantage to really kiss her as he stepped her backward. 

Arina plopped onto the bed, eyes bright.

“My turn,” he murmured. He wanted her to watch him. In better circumstances, Eris would have been totally naked within seconds. He kept forgetting his injured shoulder though it had not forgotten him. Eris tried to raise his arms over his head only to release a hiss of air. Arina, the pretty little thing, was on her feet after that with a sultry look on her face.

“Can I help?”

“You can do anything you want to me,” Eris swore, standing perfectly still as she helped him out of his shirt. Her fingers, still trembling slightly, moved to the laces on his pants. 

“I saw you before you left,” she whispered, looking up at him before pushing his pants down his hips.

“I wasn’t trying to hide myself from you,” Eris lied. He had absolutely been trying to do that. “Did you like what you saw?”

Her fingers curled around the base of his cock, half swollen with excitement, as she pulled him from his pants.

“Yes.”

Eris held his breath, forgetting that his trousers were now pooled around his ankles. All he could do was watch her hold him in her hand, thumb running along the vein beneath. Arina stroked him once, looking up to see if he liked what she’d done.

Eris grabbed her face for a messy, almost brutal kiss. Forgetting about his wound and the healer who had instructed him to be gentle, Eris fell to the bed with Arina in a tangle of limbs and clothes. He just needed to press his skin against her own, to feel her body on his. Arina was soft and smelled like coconut somehow and all Eris could think about was if she tasted like it, too.

Once he’d kicked off his pants, it occurred to Eris that all he really needed to do was lift one of her legs to her chest and slide himself into her body. He doubted she’d stop him and once she got over the initial shock, Eris argued with himself that he could make it enjoyable for her.

He wanted it so badly he pushed her legs apart with his knees, still kissing her frantically. Arina bit his bottom hip, causing his hips to grind against her where the head of his cock found how slick she was and holy hells, he wanted to die. 

They had all night. Why couldn’t he just— “Hells,” he breathed, pulling himself away before he gave in. Eris’s control was shredding and he’d had her naked in his bed for what? A minute? Less? Looking upward at the darkened ceiling, Eris forced himself to take several slow, deep breaths.

He didn’t want her giggling at court about how quick he’d been. Or worse, to tell people he’d been selfish. Eris had a reputation to maintain, after all…though in truth, he merely wanted to drag out their first time. He’d never get another shot at it, and there was pleasure in forcing himself to wait. 

His cock throbbed in protest as Eris returned to his wife, who was staring up at him with a wary expression.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered as he nipped at her neck. 

“Nothing,” Eris rushed to reassure her, “you’re perfect. Relax.”

He knew she wouldn’t. She was waiting for him to get things over with and Eris would be damned if those were the same thoughts running through her head by the time he slid himself inside her. She’d be begging for him, would scarcely feel the intrusion.

Or, he hoped at least. 

Eris continued his slow exploration, taking his time with her breasts before licking his way between her legs. She was watching him, head inclined on a pillow. He’d warned her he was going to do this—had told her as much when they’d been separated by the door. It was something he enjoyed doing and more than anything, Eris wanted Arina to associate pleasure with his tongue more than his cock.

Groaning as he shifted his weight onto his injured shoulder, Eris wondered briefly if he could convince her to straddle his face. If he told her he was hurt, would she oblige him? Looking up at her, he decided to try his luck later—maybe after he’d already had her and she knew what to expect. It was impossible to tell how much of her modesty was genuine versus the social conditioning she’d experienced.

One would make getting her on his face easy and the other would require some time and patience. Eris had both in abundance. Even then, as he spread her legs wide so he could drink her in, Eris was exercising restraint. 

“Eris,” she whispered, squirming ever so slightly. It was easy to slide his good arm under her hips and pull her closer, trying so hard not to put a lot of his weight on his shoulder. When he caught whoever shot that arrow, Eris intended to torture them for days, just for impeding his ability to have his new wife the way he wanted. 

“Lay back for me,” he whispered, though in truth he hoped she watched. It was doing something for him to know she wanted to look at him. Too often blankets were pulled over his head, forcing him to work beneath the covers so as not to offend the delicate sensibilities of whoever he was with.

“Eris, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he breathed, taking a tentative taste. “I need to.”

That was true, at least. Eris was coming out of his skin and it had nothing to do with his injury and everything to do with his aching cock wedged against the mattress. Eris shifted his hips in an attempt to alleviate some of his arousal but with Arina’s pretty, wet cunt inches from his face all Eris managed to do was make himself more desperate.

No one had ever accused him of being smart.

Eris licked her again, intending to draw things out. Arina bowed off the bed, gasping for air and Eris was utterly wrecked. So it was like that, then? He wanted more of that reaction, chasing it with the flat of his tongue. He’d forgotten why he wanted to do this other than he liked it, and remembered only after a few minutes of sucking and licking that he should probably try and prepare her for his cock afterward.

It was pure hell, sliding in that first finger. Eris swore against wet skin, pumping that finger in and out while the rest of his body screamed in protest. She was so warm, so wet and Eris could feel every inch of her on his cock like a phantom kiss. Marrying her had been smart, he decided, returning his attention to her clit. He should have done so weeks ago—the moment he met her, if only to get them both right back here.

All that time wasted wishing she would leave when he could have been fucking her. What a waste of time, of his life. All he could do was make up for lost time…and wedge in a second finger. 

“Eris,” Arina breathed, carding her fingers through his hair. “Eris, please.”

Eris merely groaned, unwilling to pull his mouth off her. She was close and there was no dragging it out any longer. Not anymore. He needed to hear her come, needed to feel it on his fingers, his tongue…his cock. It was all Eris could think about, narrowing his vision until they were the only people alive and this was all that mattered.

Arina’s thighs tightened around his face, her breath coming in short, staccato pants. Her voice was a melody and that little cry when she came was pure music. Just like before when they’d been separated by the door, Arina didn’t know better to fake her pleasure, which made Eris want her more.

He pulled himself off her when she began shoving at his head, crawling up her body for a messy kiss. His arm protested beneath the movement but Eris didn’t care—not when her tongue invaded his mouth, greedy as ever. He’d pay for this later he was sure when the healer returned and realized he’d wrecked his injury worse than it had ever been.

Eris just didn’t care. Arina’s nails were sharp against his back, her teeth grazing his lip and Eris was a creature of need first, humanity second. She didn’t even realize he was slotted against her, rubbing the head of his cock against her still sensitive skin until Eris pushed himself an inch into her body.

Her eyes flew open as she gasped.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, kissing her softly. “Stay with me.”

And she did, kissing him back with each new inch Eris took. It was hell—all he wanted was to bury himself completely inside her, to forego the slowness in favor of passion. She could handle it, Eris knew she could. With every bit of herself she conceded, Arina relaxed a little more until she was totally loose beneath him.

It was worth it, he decided. Next time would be easier, could be rougher if he wanted. Now, though, Eris held himself entirely within her, resisting the urge to move so he could kiss her. He considered asking how she felt, but Arina arched against him, skimming her fingernails down the side of his body before pushing at his hips.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, pulling himself out just so he could thrust back in.

 Arina whimpered in response. 

He couldn’t help himself, his injured hand wrapping loosely around her throat while his thumb brushed against her lips. “Tell me what you want, Arina.”

“You,” she replied, rising up to meet him. Arina matched him thrust for thrust, back arched so her breasts were flush against his chest. It was heaven and hell all at once and Eris was certain nothing had ever felt so good in his life. Pleasure pooled low in his gut, forcing Eris to squeeze his ass together in an attempt to stave off his inevitable orgasm.

“Come on,” he whispered, rising up on his knees so he could rub his thumb against her clit. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”

She merely moaned, throwing her head to the side. Was this love, he wondered? Or merely the seconds before he came, eroding all his good sense? Eris was about to find out. Arina came, tightening around him so brutally that Eris had no choice but to come, too. He’d lost total control of his body, chasing pleasure until he was pressed back against her, kissing her as though he could taste her own orgasm.

She was sweet and he was in hell. Panting, Eris pressed his forehead in the crook between her shoulder and neck. 

“We shouldn’t have done that,” Arina whispered, pressing her lips to his jaw. 

“Why?” Eris asked, panic coursing through him.

“You’re hurt,” she murmured, fingers brushing his arm. “I could have waited.”

His cock was still buried inside her as he said, “I couldn’t. But if you’re worried about my injuries, I have an idea.”

He didn’t wait for her to ask what the idea was, flipping them over while she squealed and dug her nails into his chest. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Arina breathed, rolling her hips all the same. 

Eris only smiled.

Oh, how he knew it.