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bg-brainrot · 1 year ago

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Failed Every Insight Check and Fell all the Harder (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Companion piece to: Failed a Dex Save and Fell for You

Summary: After a few months of traveling together, Astarion has begun to experience some new feelings around you. After one fateful day in Moonrise Towers, he finally figures out what those feelings are.

Tags: Astarion POV, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Awkward Fluff, tw: mentions of astarion's past and all that comes with it, tw: mentions of araj scene, Feelings Realization, Jealousy

A/N: here comes the awkward, fluffy Astarion figuring out his feelings Valentine’s special. He’s a hot mess, of course. (happy Early Valentine’s because I will be busy on Valentine’s) And thanks to everyone who voted for this one!

Word count: ~4.8k

Ever since your group entered the Shadowlands, something has been bothering Astarion. He hadn't noticed at first– or rather, had tried his best to ignore it. But, as time goes on, he’s finding it more and more difficult to brush aside.

It had started out small. An odd pain in the pit of his stomach.

What was that? he'd thought, holding a hand to his abdomen in concern. Perhaps he was just hungry, but it certainly didn’t feel like the ever-present hunger in his belly. No, that was a dull, continuous ache. This? This felt like something was weighing him down. Maybe I’m ill. I shouldn’t mention it to anyone, lest Lae’zel slit my throat in my sleep.

Besides, the pain didn’t happen often. He noticed it a distinct few times.

Once, when you first entered the Shadowlands. He’d just watched you bend down, hands plucking at something off the side of the cursed lands’ road. He thought momentarily that he ought to stop you, that none of you knew what could be lurking in its magical darkness. But that tinge of worry was promptly replaced by that same gods awful pit in his stomach.

Because there you were, presenting your party’s cleric with your spoils. You were gifting Shadowheart a night orchid– had remembered that she mentioned loving them. You bore the woman’s wretched joke with a smile. Disgusting, Astarion thought. No wonder my stomach feels uncomfortable, what a pathetic little exchange.

Like everything that had bothered him in the last couple of months since finding himself free of Cazador, he decided to forget the feeling. Life is his to take full advantage now, why let something like that affect him?

Or so he thought until the next time the feeling made its return.

You had just arrived at the Last Light Inn as a group, found shelter through the Harpers’ well-established safe haven. Astarion was quite happy to be rid of the shadows, content to cozy up in an inn. He figured, if he played his cards right, you may even let him partake in your blood or ask for a bit of fun.

Then your party found Dammon. Equipped with Infernal Iron and one blazing hot barbarian, Dammon made magic happen in a matter of moments.

Astarion was glad. As much as the group was a bit much at times, he understood Karlach’s struggle with her body all too well. She deserved this small victory in reclaiming her body.

His feelings of genuine sympathy were short-lived though because a moment later you were wrapping your arms around the tiefling’s body. It was a test, of course, to see if Dammon’s fusing had worked. But there it was again, the feeling in his stomach. This time it felt twice as heavy, a lead ball in his guts. Maybe I should let someone know, he thought. This can’t be good.

But the sensation was soon forgotten as your group settled into the Last Light Inn. Old allies were in some miserable new states– requiring even more help, gods– and new acquaintances were made. It was all rather dull for Astarion.

The one time Astarion perked up was when you went head-to-head with the head Harper. He chuckled under his breath when you outsmarted the old crone, Jaheira. That’s right, Harper. Don’t mess with my protector.

Your first night at the inn was capped off with a bit of revelry: a game of Truth or Dare.

Astarion could sense your reluctance to play. You’d been acting odd all day, stiff and awkward around him. He saw this as the perfect opportunity to tease you to the high celestial plane– in fact, he already knew what he wanted to ask you. “You are going to regret this so much," he'd said to you from across the table.

Then the game began, and the deep, uncomfortable feeling never left his core.

Each and every companion received your attention throughout the game, in one way or another. Even that damned smith, Dammon, was given a dare from you. And Astarion just sat there, not even earning a glance, his mood growing more and more sour.

When, at last, he was able to taunt you with his question, you were far too in your cups to give a proper response. He sat on your lap, placed there from one of Shadowheart’s dares, staring into your surprised, open eyes, wishing that he'd thought of an easier question for an inebriated version of you.

The group had shooed you both out of the game upon seeing your state, though Astarion didn't mind. He'd much rather leave the lot of them and tease you by himself.

Once you were alone, you answered his question. That he, Astarion, was your favorite and for all manner of incredulous, unbelievable reasons. He’d expected you to say him. He’d asked to hear your praise, confirm your attachment in the name of his plan to seduce you. All the same he was left uncomfortable, juggling the sudden and unabashed flattery. Being praised for his looks was one thing but for being… himself?

The feeling in his stomach grew. Suddenly his lungs felt it, his undead heart felt it. What in the sweet hells is the matter with me? he thought, as he helped lay your drunken, passed out form to bed later that night. He hadn’t felt a sensation like this before– he hated it.

Then you reached out to him in your sleep, and he froze. Something about the touch quietened the pain under his ribs, and so he extended his fingers, gently touching your brow as you fell asleep. See? I’m fine, he assured himself. I truly am just ravenous.

He continued this way for several days in the Shadowcursed lands.

One moment, he was perfectly fine, hacking and slashing at a Shambling Mound with abandon. The next, he would look over at you, see you laughing at something Karlach said, and it felt like an iron ingot had made its way into his insides.

Damned tiefling woman. I’m far funnier than her, you know, he thinks, resheathing his knives with a little too much gusto. The sound of your laughter rang in his head for the rest of the evening, as if he were being driven to insanity by it.

The next day, you had fought a horde of Meazels. At first, Astarion thought the fight was delightful fun– the tiefling woman and the cleric kept getting teleported against their will and after his recent annoyance with both of them, he found it quite amusing. That is, until you found yourself garrotted, teleported as far away from him as possible.

He was on you in mere moments, ripping the creature off of you with his blades. It was almost as if he’d reacted instinctively and, as someone whose instincts typically led him away from danger, he found the sensation quite off-putting. Nevertheless, he'd freed you, asking, “Are you alright, darling?”

Astarion couldn’t remember what you’d even said because once he saw the marks the creatures left on you, the pit in his stomach dropped. Where there had been a heavy pressure before, there was now a sharp feeling. His eyes carefully trailed over your injuries, trying his best to focus on you and not the phantom pain building inside him.

You had been fine, nothing that a quick heal from Shadowheart couldn’t fix, but that feeling stayed in his stomach the rest of the day. It’s simply the Shadowlands, he'd thought. They not only play tricks on the mind, clearly they’re playing tricks on my body.

It was a few days later, as you helped the Harper’s deal with their lantern problem that the sensation shifted again.

Astarion watched, eyes glued to your form, as you dispatched the hideous drider, your twin blades piercing the creature in its most vulnerable spots. He’d seen you kill many monsters before, hundreds likely at this point. But something about the way your body moved in the Moonlantern’s glow, the way your face lit up as the creature’s body crumpled to the floor, caused the vampire to stop and watch.

This time, he’d felt the heavy sensation move up, somewhere just below his throat. He tried against all odds to gulp it away, but nothing seemed to work. We need to finish our business here and get out as soon as possible, he thought now, convinced it was the shadows warping his senses…

But as your travel continues, the feelings never go away.

It’s a different pressure, it builds, it ebbs, it flows between his heart, his stomach, his torso– and each time he brushes it off. Stewing in these uncomfortable feelings, Astarion spends the week in a hazy mire, not unlike the shadows that surround you all.

Then your group finally infiltrates Moonrise.

Moonrise Towers, the seat of the Absolute and a once grand fortress.

Now, Astarion can’t help but think it seems rather underutilized. Your group is walking along the empty parapets outside, which are woefully missing any sense of grandeur or ornamentation. “Darling,” he says, leaning into you slightly. “Don’t you think we ought to just kill everyone now and take the place for ourselves. Might be quite fun.”

You bark out a laugh, which he feels proud to have produced, and reply, “Maybe later. This is an infiltration mission only. Besides, once we defeat the Absolute, I’m sure there will be a vacancy.”

Astarion laughs back at you. Gods, he enjoys this. The way that he can say something that others would balk at and you will miraculously not only appreciate it, but also play along with it. Having fun with them is so easy, he thinks. And look, I’m still wearing all of my clothes! What a novel idea.

The thought is cut short when your group walks through an outside doorway into a room that can only be described as grotesque. Whoever works here clearly has some knowledge of arcana, if the ingredients and alchemical tools are anything to go by, but it smells utterly foul to Astarion.

It’s when you spot the drow woman hunched over a table in the corner that he realizes where the stench is coming from. Hells below, that woman reeks of something truly awful, he thinks, recoiling. He’d grown used to following behind you closely, but as you step forward to speak to the woman, he finds himself taking a step back instead.

The woman introduces herself as Araj Oblodra, a trader of blood– a rather poor trader, by the smell of it. She takes note of Astarion, who shuffles back instinctively, before you and her go about some kind of business with your blood. Astarion contemplates speaking up, shooing you away from her, but decides to stay back, as far away as he can remain without arousing suspicion. They can handle themselves.

Then, after the woman looks back toward him one too many times, he hears you snap, “And why are you so interested in my pale friend?”

“Ah, yes. Perhaps there’s one more thing we could discuss,” she begins, her voice a dangerous drawl. “He’s a vampire, no? Or one of their spawn at least.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Astarion says, all-too-ready to fill his role. “We’re all friends under the Absolute. I won’t bite.”

“Oh, I’d prefer if you did,” she’s quick to respond. Her eagerness picks at Astarion’s nerves, and he raises an eyebrow at her. Araj doesn’t deign to give him another moment’s look though, as she turns back to you. “I assume he belongs to you?”

“Excuse me?” Your voice sounds offended– on his behalf, Astarion wonders? “He’s his own person.” Your words cause the feeling in Astarion’s stomach to flip, and, as much as he wants to come to his own defense, he finds himself quite content to hear you do it for him.

“I’m sure he really believes that. How utterly adorable,” she says with a snide chuckle.

Adorable? he thinks, but he’s unable to interject before the woman continues to barrel forward.

The blood trader turns back to Astarion, face wrinkled with distaste as her tone changes to something a bit more confrontational, “Do you have a name, spawn?”

Her sudden shift in attitude, the proud tilt to her head, it all throws the vampire off balance as he goes to answer, “Astarion, b-but hold on!” Astarion holds up a hand to try to slow this woman’s tirade, all to no avail.

“Good. Now, Astarion, I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl,” Araj begins, laying out the scene for her request.

Too bad that the scene sounds quite ridiculous to Astarion. Surely he heard her incorrectly? “I’m sorry, you want to be bitten?”

The woman goes on a new insane diatribe– something about dancing with death– but Astarion can hardly be bothered. All he needs to know is that she’s offering some measly potion for being bitten and, gods, does he not want to bite this woman’s disgusting neck. Or wrist. Or really any part of her. “I will have to decline,” he says, with a gracious little bow. Your group is still infiltrating the towers, it wouldn’t do to tell Araj exactly how horrid she smells.

It’s entirely more grace than she deserved, that much is clear because she presses him again. Again, he refuses. “I gave you my answer.”

The drow scoffs, turning back to you once more, “Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?”

You, for your part, look confused. There’s a line of concern in your forehead as you look between the woman and Astarion, wondering what it is that you’re missing. “I’m surprised, Astarion. I thought you’d enjoy an opportunity like this.”

What?! he thinks, a sudden, sharp spike of anger shooting through him. He tempers his immediate rage and speaks to Araj with that same, false pleasantry she doesn’t deserve, “I’m sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?”

Astarion, not waiting for her response, pulls you aside, away from the drow’s nosy eyes and ears. Once you’re alone, he turns to you, his voice a hiss, “Are you actually asking me to do this? Trading me for some-some-some potion?”

“What’s the matter? Why would she be different from any other enemy?” you ask, leaning toward him.

Your voice is full of genuine worry, and some of his anger abates as he meets your eyes. Of course, they don’t know what they’re asking. How could they know? “Because there’s something wrong with her blood. I can smell it from here. Ugh, it’s rank.”

Now your brows furrow, and a sharp edge enters your eyes as you ask your next question, “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her blood?”

“I can’t say. It just smells… wrong. Unnatural.” His words sound pathetic to his own ears.

Of course that’s not an excuse, Astarion laments. What am I even thinking? The potion is clearly useful. They are going to make me do this, and I may as well prepare myself. I’ve put up with worse after all.

So, he stands straight once more, ready to put on the performance of a lifetime. His tone takes on a resigned tone as he continues, “Drinking it wouldn’t kill me, but it would not be pleasant.”

You both hear a sigh from behind you. “I don’t have all day, True Soul,” Araj calls, impatiently.

Your eyes remain focused entirely on him, ignoring the woman’s irritated sigh, her entitled words. “Astarion,” you begin, and he takes a breath in preparation for your other foot to drop. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. And if she refuses to take no for an answer again, we’ll simply have to start our assault on the towers a bit early.”

The breath leaves him.

"Alright. Uh, thank you,” he says, feeling the tension drop from his shoulders. He’d been prepared to acquiesce, to do exactly what you’d asked of him. But this? This is something he hadn’t been prepared for.

In a daze, Astarion makes his way back to Araj, putting on as polite of a facade as he’s still capable of making, “It's still a ‘no’, I’m afraid.”

“How very disappointing,” the blood trader says, shooting you both a disgusted look. She turns away in a huff, leaving your group alone to recover from the exchange. And leaving Astarion floundering in another new sensation.

Because once more, the feeling in the pit of his stomach has reared its ugly head– only this time it shoots through him like a bolt of lightning. He's not sure what it is, but it's stunned him into slipping off his carefully crafted mask. He turns to you once more, voice soft around its usual edges, "Thank you. I… appreciated that.”

"You have no need to thank me. It was always your choice, Astarion."

Huh.

The feeling sinks into him, settling deeper and deeper as you continue through Moonrise.

That night, you go to bed in your own bedroll, leaving Astarion to his meditations with a smile and a wave. It has been a long day for all of you, and it's clear from the way you take a glance back that you're worried about him.

Gods, he's worried about him.

After dealing with that vile drow woman, you'd all continued about the tower, ingratiating yourselves with even the most repugnant of creatures to appear faithful to the Absolute. But Astarion paid attention to almost none of it.

He'd stabbed when you told him it was time to stab, he'd joined your side when you called him to you, but his mind had been wholly preoccupied.

They didn't make me do it, he'd thought, as he unlocked some chest.

Well, isn't this exactly what I wanted? he'd thought, following you down some stairs.

Clearly they just fell for my charms, my masterful seduction, he'd thought, flanking a prison guard for you.

So why do I feel like this? he'd thought, staring at your back as you led the way before him.

Now, he lays here in his tent, staring at the fold of its ceiling in a rapt fascination he doesn't feel. The feeling in his stomach has stayed all day, tethering him to his thoughts with its continuous pressure.

When did I get to the point where I would follow them anywhere? Is their lack of self-preservation contagious? he asks himself, eyes narrowing in frustration. I shouldn't have gone into that horrendous tower in the first place. Then I wouldn't feel like this.

But he had.

And you'd not forced him to do so.

You'd not forced him to do anything.

They're a fool, an utter fool. I could have bitten that drow, as easy as breathing, he thinks, rolling his eyes at the thought. Close your eyes and push through, that's what I always say.

But did you want to? something in the back of his mind asks.

Of course not, but when has what I wanted ever mattered–

It may not have mattered under Cazador's grip, but it has always mattered to you. You're nothing like that evil man. You'd always been there for him, had managed to find trust in your heart for him, and had been genuinely kind to him.

The now-familiar feeling in his stomach seems to spread to the rest of his body, a warmth that doesn't quite feel warm. It bleeds all the way to his face and his lips curl up into an involuntary smile at the thought of you.

You– you, who had only ever been meant to play a bit role in the tragedy that is Astarion’s life. You, who had transcended your part, leaving Astarion contemplating every aspect of you in the stark solitude of his tent.

Your beauty when you're covered in blood after a battle, the mischievous glint in your eye when you're teaching a child a sleight of hand trick– even when anger pulls your brows together and you're yelling at him for saying something particularly naughty. Each and every one makes his smile grow wider.

You, his chosen protector, are so much more than just that.

They are incredible. The thought comes to him unprompted, truly as easy as breathing.

His eyes widen in alarm, staring blankly at the tent above him.

The feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t an illness. Nor was it hunger. No. It was guilt. It was jealousy. It was…

Oh fuck, Astarion curses to himself. Am I in love?

Now that he has a word to the sensation, that the feeling is in his grasp, he knows he's right. He doesn't have a lot of experience with love, if any– he'd never had the luxury under Cazador's cruel gaze and he can't recall much from before that– but he knows he's right.

And hells does he wish he could crush the feeling in his hands right here and now.

Gods, you complete and utter imbecile, he thinks, hitting his head against the floor. You have things to do, goals to accomplish. They were only supposed to be a means to those goals, not a – a–

Astarion’s mind blanks as he thinks of you again, your charm, your wit, your damnable caring.

Not a companion. Not a friend. Not a lover. When did those late night trysts turn from an obligation, a part of his simple, perfect plan, into something more?

Even now, as he thinks of those nights, he brings a hand to his lips, recalling a night where you had simply stayed in his bedroll. You had kept all of your clothes on, as had he, and simply held each other as you fell asleep. Their kiss that night was delectable, he recalls, tracing the line of his lips, as if he could still feel the ghost of yours on them.

Fuck, he thinks again, dropping his hand in frustration. How could I have been so blind? How did I not nip this in the bud before it got to this disgusting pining?

But he hasn’t nipped it in the bud. The feeling has grown, unfettered, quick as a druidic plant growth, all unbeknownst to him. It has been nurtured by your attention. It has been watered by your kindness. It has become unruly in the safety of your arms.

Now what? he thinks to himself bitterly, wiping a hand across his face with a sigh. What use are these feelings when everything they were built upon is a lie? You are, after all, still playing the role he set out for you.

He considers overlooking the feelings, just as he has inadvertently done in his ignorance. It wouldn’t be of any use to tell you, of course. You could hardly feel the same way about him as he does you, and he’d rather not add another nuisance in the fight against the Absolute.

Besides, if he told you, he would have to fess up, explain his entire plan to you. What would even be left of the two of you after that?

But, he thinks to himself. Let’s say I did tell them. What could they possibly say…

“I was pretending all along too.” – gods, that would break him. That much is all too apparent from the way his undead heart aches at the thought, with a pain he couldn’t possibly feel.

“I like you, but not like that.” – maybe this was worse. Actually, it was definitely worse. He may never recover. His ego would certainly never recover.

“I have someone else that I love.” – honestly, reasonable. What did he have to offer you after all? A bloodthirsty master and the occasional snarky comment? He wouldn’t be surprised to find you in Karlach’s tent at this very moment…

“I hate you.” – he might be able to take this the best. You should hate him. He’d done nothing but lie and manipulate his way into your bedroll. Hate, well, that he understood.

“I love you, but…” – every single 'but' cut like a different, jagged blade. But we’re in danger every day? An excuse, surely. But you come with too much baggage? True, but not something he would be able to resolve. But I don’t want to be with a monster? Again, reasonable, but out of his control.

Astarion runs through scenario after scenario, each one playing with his own emotions in a new and horrendous way. In the end, he all but slaps himself out of it.

No, I cannot tell them. I absolutely must take this to my second grave, he determines, shaking the thoughts away with a few hard blinks.

But the feeling in his chest is more persistent than ever. As if giving it a name and meaning has given it a new, annoying life. He laments to himself aloud, "I may never feel like myself again.”

If this is what love does to a person, he wants no part of it.

The vampire didn't have a restful night's reverie, that much is apparent. His mood is foul, his body tense, and his eyes are trying their damnedest to avoid yours.

No way, he thinks as you all set off for the day. I spun myself into a frenzy last night. Clearly. I feel absolutely nothing–

Then you turn back to him, concern lining your eyes as you address him. What had you just said? He had found himself somehow lost in your eyes, your lips, the turn of your nose…

Shit, he thinks to himself. No, get back in control. You have only just reclaimed yourself, you can't lose yourself to something as cruel as love.

But, try as he might, his eyes can’t avoid you.

All morning, he continues to sneak glances your way. Despite his roguish nature, he finds hiding his stares to be impossible. After all, you are the group’s leader. You are at the front, you are at his side, gods, you are everywhere. This feels like some kind of divine punishment…

You catch him looking, of course. And each time, he curses himself, gods, you idiot. You may as well broadcast your feelings to the world. And hells, how long have you felt this way?

Astarion tries futilely to act normal. This is just another day with the group in the Shadowlands. He’s not thinking about holding your hand in his. He’s not thinking about the way you look when you sleep. And, above all else, he is not thinking of your lips or the way that they move when you say his name.

Despite his inner turmoil, the world moves on. You lead the group through the Mason’s Guild, and you all manage to clear the place out easily enough.

The vampire thinks he’s finally reaching some sort of peace. Yes, this routine work he can do. No problem at all.

Then, you say something kind to Karlach, that infernally charming woman, who continues to support you at your side. Who, for all intents and purposes, should be the person who warms your bedroll at night, now that you can touch her. Not him, the man who can only make your bedroll colder. Who, even now, is avoiding your every glance.

Oh hells, he thinks, face dropping. The realization that he’s right is too much for him to bear.

Astarion stalks off, annoyed at himself and his thoughts, needing a moment to recollect himself. I can do this, he thinks. I can do this. I can–

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath once he knows he’s alone. “You’re supposed to get over this, you stupid fool. Shit. Gods dammit.”

He hears your familiar footfalls approaching and freezes, his shoulders tense with anticipation.

You find him in a pool of shadows away from the others, and he can’t help but feel like a beast that’s been cornered. He’s certain his face reflects that, reflects every bit of emotion he’s feeling as plain as could be, but your patience with him has apparently worn thin for the day. Your voice is less kind than usual when you say, “Do you need to talk?”

Seeing the anger in your face, the way that your hands are placed on your hips in annoyance, he knows he can’t keep his feelings to himself. He’ll only continue to push you away, into the strong, red arms of another.

No, he thinks, in a panic. I should– I need to–

He needs to do something about his feelings, unwanted or not. Really, he needs to tell you, regardless of what your response may be. If not, he may regret it for the rest of his undying life.

Now that he is in control of his own choices, he supposes that means all of them, for better or worse. That means even the most difficult ones. This is one of those difficult ones, isn’t it?

So Astarion swallows his pride, his anxieties, his insecurities, and settles his fate.

“Later,” he says, barely getting the words out. He blinks, and tries again, pleading with you with his eyes, “Please, just come by my tent later.”

Later, I will tell them. Everything.

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bambikisss · 9 months ago

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Congratulations :: Song Mingi + Choi San

🎶: One of the girls - The IDOL

📙: After debuting at number one for your 1st album, you decide to rent out a club to celebrate. While that was your idea of celebrating, your best friends San and Mingi have other ideas on how to

⚠: Honestly smut without plot, public, biting, anal, threesome, oral (m + f), nicknames (baby, beautiful, whore), riding, 69, multiple creampies

Bambi's notes: HI! I'm back from a break. I wanted to get back into the flow of writing, and I love a good Mingi/San fic, so here we are. Also, this is smut with a sprinkle of plot, <3

REBLOGS + COMMENTS ARE WELCOME AND ENCOURAGED

"And everyone, let's raise a glass to the woman who's album is already raking in 30 million dollars day of debut!" You smiled at the back of the club, raising your glass with everyone as they cheered for you, the red lights hitting your best friend who stood on stage. Your eyes moved over San's tough figure, his open suit jacket and loosely opened white button-up clung to him as he met your eyes, a smirk now on his lips as he said "To Y/N, may you rake in twice as much money next time so you can buy us all more drinks. Good Job, baby."

Everyone cheered at San's words, downing their drinks before they returned to dancing. You leaned back against the seat cushions and watched everyone enjoy the album release party. You had dropped your first album which your fans had been begging for, the album hitting number one on all music platforms and physical CDs already selling out, pre-orders racking up as well. To celebrate, you rented out a club for you and your guests to party and relax, as the album-making process wasn't easy. At least for you, anyway.

"You didn't have to do all of that, you know," You said as San slid back into the booth, a chuckle leaving his lips as he rested his head back against the cushion, already pouring himself another glass of whiskey. "You could've said something simple." "Why would I say something special when my best friend is number one all around the world tonight?" He chuckled, downing his drink easily. You rolled your eyes, your eyes landing on his eyes open chest as he chuckled. He was frankly too big for the shirt: his chest pecs were pushing away the fabric, giving you a view of his cross necklace that sat in between them, rising and falling in the club's red lights as he breathed, glimmering as if it wanted to draw your attention back constantly.

"I, for one, liked his speech" You turned to Mingi who slid back into the booth, the group of women he was dancing with leaving as he waved them away, turning back to you with a grin. He was now covered in kiss marks from the girl's lipstick-covered lips, their smudged kiss adoring his collarbone, neck, his cheek, and his chest. He smirked proudly as your eyes moved over them, chuckling out "Drink in in, Beautiful. The woman are crazy about me tonight." "You guys know that you're supposed to be celebrating me, right?" You asked playfully, taking a sip of your drink as Mingi moved to sit on one side of you. He placed his arm around the back of the seat, his fingers playing with your hair as he said "of course. Just how I celebrate things is different than this."

"Well then, how do you guys celebrate things?'' You asked, watching as both of your friends made eye contact across the table. San's eyes darkened slightly, the red lights adding shadows to his face as he moved closer to you. His hand landed on your thigh, smirking as he said "Well, we can show you…" Mingi smirked, agreeing as he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet before he placed a red card on the table in front of you. As you leaned forward to read the black ink on the card, your hair left your shoulders as Mingi's lips met your neck, San's hands moving up your sides.

IOU CARD: Good for anything as a replacement for a gift on a holiday

For Christmas a few years back, you had gifted both San and Mingi IOU cards as you couldn't afford to get them gifts at the time. However, when you did buy them gifts, you thought you had gotten them all back. Mingi must've held onto one. "Is the card good for this type of situation?" Mingi asked against your ear, his body blocking you from the view of everyone else in the club as he moved your face to meet his, San's hands moving down your sides to the bottom of your dress, pushing your legs apart. You felt like you were in a daze, Mingi smirking at your hooded eyes and parted lips. He repeated his question, his lips meeting your immediately when you nodded. When you had first gifted them the IOU cards, you didn't think they'd use them for this, but now that you had Mingi's tongue meeting yours and San's hands playing with your panties underneath the table while he watched, you weren't mad.

"You know, we could take you right here at this table, baby" San whispered into your ear, his chest now pressed against your back as you fully faced Mingi, your arms wrapping around his neck as you both made out. "Everyone here is so drunk and so focused on dancing that they won't even see us. How about I have you ride me, while you suck off Mingi, hmm?" San whispered his dirty thoughts into your ear, making you moan against Mingi's lips. The kiss heated up at that, Mingi smirked at the idea.

"I like that. Having tonight's special girl on the table, back against the table with my cock down her throat and you in between her legs, making a mess" You bit your lip at his words, your eyes slowly dragging down Mingi's body, landing on each of the kiss marks those women he was dancing with earlier left. San noticed your growing jealousy, his hands cupping your face to meet his as he asked "someone looks like she's jealous, isn't she?" San clicked his tongue, turning you to face Mingi once more as he pressed his cheek against yours. San was like the devil on your shoulder, his dark smirk showing off his dimples as he spoke to Mingi. "She's far too focused on all those kiss marks you have on you to feel good, man."

"Is that so?" Mingi asked, standing up from the booth to tower over where you were bent slightly due to San pushing you down a little with his chest. "Don't you wish these were from you, not them?" You felt your jealousy kicking into a higher gear, being egged on by San's words. You nodded, turning to kiss San when Mingi went to kiss you again. This made him chuckle darkly, San doing the same before he pulled back, licking his lips as he met your eyes. "I think someone needs all of our attention, don't you? You're just an attention whore, aren't you, Y/N?"

"She couldn't just be happy with having the world's attention, no, she needs our attention too" Mingi grabbed your jaw, making you face him as he picked you up. The club's loud music blocked out the noise from the wet kiss Mingi had you locked in, San rushing to knock every bottle and glass off the table with his arm before grabbing you by your hips, pulling you back to rest on the table. You looked up as the two men towered over you, the various people at the club not noticing anything, oblivious to the heated moment between you and your best friends.

You looked up as Mingi and San swapped places, their shoes crushing the broken glass bottles underneath their dress shoes as they settled into their new positions, with San sitting back down in the booth, setting your legs up to spread yourself for him, while Mingi stood at your head, his hands playing with his large belt buckle. "You're such a greedy whore, you know that right?" Mingi mumbled, his thumb rubbing over your lips before he moved to cup your neck, forcing your head to stay back as he removed his belt. "You've been so busy in the studio and haven't had time to hang out with us. Then here you are, inviting us out to celebrate the same album that you were locked away recording, and you get all upset when I get some attention."

You gasped as San pulled back your panties, letting the ruined fabric stick against you once more, making him chuckle. He ran his hands up and down your legs, kissing down the inside of your thighs as he looked up at you. "She can't handle it if someone else wants us as much as we want her right now."

Your mind was clouded as San's lips met your covered pussy, his tongue moving over the fabric before he took your clit in his mouth, his free hand's thumb rubbing over your covered entrance, teasing you as he pushed in his thumb, only to pull it back out a second later. Your eyes closed at the feeling, Mingi pushing down his pants only a little so that his cock can come out from his underwear. Your eyes opened up to see his cock standing up against his abs, a kiss mark right above it. His hands moved into your hair, pushing his cock slowly into your mouth as he moaned out "I'll have you kiss over these kiss marks when I'm finished filling your throat."

Your mouth widened to accommodate Mingi's size and length, your hands now pinned to the table by San's hands. You moaned as Mingi began to fuck your mouth, San's tongue and mouth focused on wetting your panties. Anytime you tried to drop a leg or pull him closer, San would firmly place your foot back against the table, biting the inside of your thighs with a warning. You were at their mercy as they used and played with you, and you loved it. The music only became background noise as Mingi moved faster, his tongue poking out over his lips as he watched drool and his precum leave your lips, dribbling down your cheeks and neck. He paused his movements, fully stuffing your mouth with his cock to the hilt, your nose pressing against the kiss mark that was left by one of the women he was with earlier.

"You know," he started, pulling his cock out till only the tip was in your mouth before he went back to slowly fill your mouth once more, repeating it multiple times. ''I thought about you the whole time I was with that girl? She doesn't know how to take the whole thing without complaining like this" He hummed, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks, cooing at you to breathe through your nose. Your legs were shaking, your eyes now welled up with tears from the constant teasing from San and Mingi fucking your throat. "You look like a mess, baby" Mingi continued to coo, leaning down to place a single bite onto one of your breasts. "Looking like such a mess at your own party."

San sat up from your legs, his hands moving to your hips as he laid his head against your pussy, looking up at you. His eyes were dark, his lips now in a devious smirk as he began to play with the waistband of your panties. "What if I announce to everyone that you're getting used on a table right now? That you're allowing us to taste you, and fill your throat with our cum over a fake IOU card?" San's words made you pull away from Mingi's cock with a pop, sitting up to ask what he meant. Mingi rushed to bite and kiss your neck, his hands moving to grab your breasts over the dress and San chuckled.

"When you let Mingi borrow your laptop that one time, he found your IOU card templates and he copied it and sent it to himself." San paused, picking up the IOU card, placing it into your mouth as he slithered up your body, his hands meeting Mingi's to play with and grab your breasts. You bit the card at the feeling, not wanting to let your friends know you were enjoying it, making San chuckle darkly. "Oh, she's trying to hide it now. She's trying to not show us that she likes it because we lied."

Mingi let out his own chuckle from your neck, his lips meeting your ear as he whispered "Let us make it up to you, you know, since it's your IOU party." San leaned forward to bite the card from your mouth, his hands now on your hips as he met yours. Your body was hot and full of need, your hand moving to cup San's jaw as he pressed himself against the front of you, his hard, clothed cock now pressed against your ruined panties. ''Is that a yes?" Mingi asked, making eye contact with his best friend. "Are you going to let us make it up to you?"

Usually, you would be mad if your best friends lied to you. You would've made them make it up to you somehow. "Faster, baby, fuck," Mingi had his head off the side of the bed, his hands gripping the bed as he fucked up into you, matching your bounces as you rode his cock. You nodded, moving as fast as you could to match his new pace, both of your noises filling the bedroom. You leaned your head back to rest on San's shoulder, his hands gripping your breasts as you moved your hips up and back, meeting both of their cocks. "Slow down" San moaned through gritted teeth, landing a hard smack to your breast before he gripped it again, his cock filling your ass as you rotated your hips. Mingi shook his head, moaning out loudly "no, fucking don't, I'm so close"

San shoved his face into your neck, littering it with marks as he began to move his hips to match your bouncing as well as he could, his mind fuzzy as he moaned out "I'm gonna cum if she doesn't slow down." You bit your lip as you sped up, making both men shake and moan your name, rushing to grab you wherever they could as they pressed their hips against yours, filling you up with their cum. You placed your hands on either side of Mingi as you all panted, San's hand rushing to grab your hair as he began to roll his hips into your plush ass, making you moan out.

"Kiss them" San panted, forcing your head down to kiss over all of the lipstick marks Mingi had on him. The sight made both men go feral, Mingi's cock hardening inside you as he moaned. You felt San tug you back, meeting your lips in a messy kiss, Mingi pulling out to litter your body with bite and kiss marks. You three had been at it since you all decided to leave the club, going at it in the car as they each took turns driving while the other one got a blowjob in the back of the car. Now you all had been in the same position for what felt like forever, your pussy now leaking all of Mingi's cum onto the bed, San's cum also doing the same. You panted against San as he pushed back in, San's growl covering your pants as he said "you're still so tight, no matter how many times I fuck this sweet ass and fill it. It's just as needy as you are."

You licked your lips at his words, San's mind turning off as he pulled you back into the messy kiss. Mingi licked down your stomach to your pussy, having you sit down on his face while San began to fuck your ass once more. You moved your hips over Mingi's tongue to meet San's movements, your mind shutting off at the sensation of Mingi moaning against you. San pulled back from the kiss abruptly, his hand moving to push you down onto your stomach against Mingi's. He continued to lap away happily at your pussy while you took his cock into your mouth, humming at the taste left on it by you. San smirked at the sight before he moved to slowly push back into your ass, making you choke around Mingi's cock.

"Breathe baby" He smacked your ass, his hand grabbing a handful of your ass. You tried to focus once more on Mingi's cock, bobbing your head, but once Mingi pushed his tongue fully into you, along with San fully pushing into your ass, you choked again, making both men chuckle. "She can't focus like this, San" Mingi chuckled, his ringed finger playing with your entrance before pushing into you slowly. You gasped, backing up against them both before you were met with two rough smacks to your ass, both men urging you to move faster. San pushed your head down on Mingi's cock as he resumed fucking you, chuckling and cooing at your loud, gurgled moans around Mingi. His hands landed on your hips, keeping you from moving away as they both used you.

You began to feel your sixth orgasm rush to you, your eyes rolling back as Mingi urged you to cum, his mouth latching onto your pussy with great need, San's pace becoming more brutal as you came hard, moaning loudly around Mingi. The vibrations from your moan made him cum as well, his cock returning to your throat as he emptied his load down it.

Your head fell against Mingi's thighs as San pulled out, his cum leaking out of you, down your thighs. You didn't react to Mingi moving, resting your body down against the bed. San kissed along your shoulders and back, soothing you slowly. "Did all that make up for the fake IOU?" Your eyes opened to face both men who were cheekily smiling at you, both covered in sweat and bite marks. You rolled your eyes, both men high-fiving each other before they laid down next to you.

"We should do this again sometime, baby" San whispered, his hands moving down your body to play with your clit lazily. You whimpered, Mingi now kissing your shoulder as he whispered "right now." "Mingi's right, we should do it again right now" San moaned, his lips meeting yours as Mingi moved down your body once more, moving in between your legs with a smile as he said, "all to celebrate you, babygirl."

"Do you think you can spell congratulations with your tongue?" San asked, grabbing the back of Mingi's head to force him into your pussy, Mingi's chuckle against your pussy made you moan out "please do."

"Well, since she asked so politely" Mingi hummed, his tongue moving out to play with your pussy, his mind focused on spelling one thing.

Congratulations.

@bambikisss | 2024

#bambikisss #ateez smut #ateez #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez smau #ateez scenarios #ateez smut reactions #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #choi san #choi san smut #song mingi #song mingi smut #mingi smut #san smut #song mingi ateez #choi san ateez

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yandereworlds · 2 years ago

Note

Care to share some fun facts about Dr. Laurence? *wink wonk* he's such an interesting character and I'd like to know more about him ^^

DR. LAURENCE HEADCANONS!

Dr. Laurence - he's damn good at what he does, no two ways about it. But he's the kind of guy who's got a deck full of cards but only shows you the top two. He's all about strategy, always one step ahead. Not to mention he's got that charisma thing down pat which lets him spin any tale in his favor.

It goes without saying that due to his medical expertise, Dr. Laurence knows the human body inside and out, including the points of vulnerability. Armed with this knowledge, he doesn't rule out using it on his S/O if situations demand it, but only as a final resort when it comes to neutralizing them. Although he's not a fan of resorting to such measures, he also doesn't hesitate if the situation calls for it.

Dr. Laurence is the type to become easily tongue-tied around his partner. Merely sharing a room with his loved one can get him all rosy-cheeked, with a whirlwind of thoughts sweeping through his mind. He manages to maintain a cool exterior, but internally, he's definitely over the moon!

One thing Dr. Laurence truly enjoys is taking care of his partner's health. While others might consider medical checkup routine, for him, it's an opportunity to share a special, intimate moment with his S/O. Holding them intimately, running checks and tests, these moments are precious to him. Needless to say, the health and well-being of his beloved always top his list of priorities.

Dr. Laurence has a bit of a peculiar habit - he likes to keep mementos of his S/O, sometimes without their knowledge. It could be anything - strands of hair, misplaced eyelashes, or even pieces of clothing. And that hospital gown you wore that one time? He found it irresistible, so he had to keep it. Of course, he stashes these items safely away in a private spot. On the off chance, someone stumbles upon his collection, he swiftly brushes it off as 'random clutter,' but never lets anyone discard it. He'd even go the extra mile figuring out better ways to keep them hidden, and might even bring them home. Is it creepy? Definitely. Does he care? Not really.

Dr. Laurence truly cares about you - so much so that he won't stand by if he sees you neglecting your well-being, even to the point of stepping in forcefully if necessary. If you're refusing to eat, he won't think twice about resorting to a feeding syringe to ensure you're nourished, he'd personally see to it that you maintain your hygiene or even go as far as drugging your food to make you rest if you're overdoing it. Right or wrong, in his eyes, it's unthinkable to watch his darling deteriorating from neglect. So, in his mind, why not step in and do the caring for them?

Dr. Laurence will ensure that your family remains oblivious to your actual situation. He'll spin a tale, something about you being afflicted with a severe illness that demands a long hospital stay and no visitors, lest you spill the truth. But that wouldn't keep your family from sending things your way - stuffed toys, heartfelt cards, fresh flowers. This would irritate him to no end. Why were they showering his darling with such tokens? As if you needed anything else when you had him, right? Despite his frustration, he won't discard these gifts. Instead, he devises a scheme to pass these presents off as his own. So, he replaces their notes with his name, playing the doting partner at every opportunity. "Look, Y/N, I thought this teddy might keep you company." He'd assure your family that their tokens are being received well, all while hijacking their efforts for his own credit.

Dr. Laurence may have good intentions (sometimes), but he's far from flawless. There are moments when his partner's words and actions can really throw him off. Despite being a master at maintaining a pleasant facade, even he has his brink. When pushed too far, his recourse could be as extreme as keeping his S/O sedated for an entire week. Each time you regain consciousness, you'd find that all too familiar syringe stuck in your arm with Dr. Laurence's regretful words, "I never wanted this, Y/N... Maybe rest is what you need." This approach takes a toll on him, too. Missing the sight of your expressive eyes and the sound of your voice? It eats him up inside. But he feels it's a necessary lesson to instill. He sees it as the only way out.

All Dr. Laurence can wish for is that someday, you'll acknowledge that all he's done stems from his profound love for you. You'll get it, won't you? Then both of you can finally find happiness. That's his ultimate wish, no matter what the repercussions might be.

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majorproblems77 · 9 months ago

Text

Happy birthday Chosen

Writing I did for myself. Thought I'd share it with you all. :)

Sky was a sentimental guy, all of the links agreed on that much. Always going out of his way to make them smile or give them comfort when they otherwise wouldn't have had it.

So when the conversations of birthdays came up no one thought anything of it. Each one of them had something different from lighting cakes on fire to giving favourite foods, getting to choose destinations or just getting to have a day to rest. Each one of the links had a different way of celebrating.

The rest day sounded like Sky's favourite version if he had to admit.

"I always choose to go to my private island so the crew can have a day to relax! We dont get that way very often, but they love it!" Wind smiled, counting something on his fingers. "But my birthday isn't for some time yet."

"What about you Sky? What do you people do for birthdays?" The captain smiled over the fire towards the Skylofitan, who placed a hand to his chin.

"Well, we gather the town. And our loftwings gift us with a feather Before we get things from other people."

"Your loftwings moult?"

"Yeah? They are about the same age as us, normally to the day. And they shed only a few feathers twice a year. On their birthdays and six or so months later."

"I'd have thought they would all shed at a time of year. Like my cat does. So much fur..." The captain shuddered while the rancher laughed.

"Captain you have a cat? You never told me you had a cat." The captain nodded

the skyloftian chuckled, "You'd think, but imagine the amount of feathers that would litter skyloft of that was the case."

The captain thought about it, "That's surprisingly nice of the goddess."

The skyloftian pulled his bag from behind him, pulling out a singular red feather. "You guys have seen me wear this. And it's got two purple feathers near the top of it."

The group nodded. Hyrule, who was sitting beside the skyloftian looked closely at the feather as it shifted across the skyloftians hand.

"Those purple feathers belong to Zelda's loftwing. It was her gift to me last year." He smiled looking off to the side slightly. "Iris even picked the ones for me herself. It was very sweet of her." The skyloftian smiled down at the feathers. Carding them through his fingers.

"When is your birthday anyway Sky? We've all figured out ours but not yours?" Legend asked, knocking the skyloftian's shoulder as he looked beside him.

"Oh, thats nothing to worry about."

"Skyyyyyyy. Tell ussssssss." The sailor stood up and walked over to the skyloftian flinging his arms around him from behind. "Or I'll bug you all night about it."

"We have a different calendar to you, even if I told you you wouldn't know when it was."

"All the more reason to tell us Sky!" Hyrule knocked the skyloftian, "I know we haven't got much and this journey is a tough one. But it'll be good to know!"

The skyloftian sighed. "From my assumptions, and watching how the sun moves, it's today?" Gasps went across the group as they all sat upright. A chorus of words ran across the team.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Sky!"

"Come on now chosen!"

"You could have told us!"

"We've had a busy day. That last battle took it out of us. I wanted to make sure you were all okay."The skyloftain smiled raising a hand behind his head only to find the sailor still gripping him. Now even tighter.

"I dont believe a word of that." Sky looked up to see Time looking intently towards him. "Tomorrow we are absolutely doing something, No questions asked" Time smiled.

"But we are less than a day out from the ranch Time. I wouldn't want to keep us."

"Who said you were keeping us." Time turned to the group, "Tomorrow is a rest day. We will make our way to the ranch the day after. Now get some rest all of you."

Sky nodded and stood up, the sailor still firmly attached to him. chuckling he flung his arms under the sailor's legs to carry him on his back and walked them over to their bedrolls. Placing the sailor down before he himself lay down to rest.

The following morning was bright and cheery. The sun shone warm and bright through the trees.

The camp was bustling with activity. Everyone was awake and working to pack up as quickly as they could.

All apart from one, and they planned to keep it that way.

Sky was resting soundly on his bedroll. Having fallen asleep quite quickly the night before.

"Okay Twilight, It's about an hour to the ranch. You reckon you can carry him?" Time asked, Flinging the rancher's bag across his shoulder.

"I've got this. Let's get him into an actual bed." The rancher raised a hand, signalling the captain who nodded. Pointing into the trees to the wide space of Hyrule field. Before coming over.

"Wild has gone on ahead, he should be about done by the time we get there if we walk quickly."

"Then let's go!" The sailor bounced over, smiling wide. "This is going to be the best birthday present ever for him."

The skyloftian was lifted and placed onto the Rancher's back, arms wrapped around his neck and sailcloth wrapped around him.

The walk was uneventful, as the team made they're way across Hyrule field into the ranch.

Malon and Wild were waiting at the door when they turned into the ranch. Malon smiled and waved, opening the door for the rancher and following him in to help get Sky into a bed.

"Pumpkin pie and soup. Ready to go when he is. Did you guys get here alright?" Wild looked over the team briefly, who gave nods of encouragement.

"We did." The captain said, "Now I'm going to get this bag down I forget how much Sky actually carries."

As he walked inside. wind called out to him, "Dont forget to put the master sword in with him. He gets nightmares without it!"

The captain waved in acknowledgement as he walked into the ranch house.

"Wonderful, now it's time for the presents. four, there's a forge, that me and malon use to make new horseshoes. Will that be enough for you?" Time smiled pointing across the field where the sight of a small smithing table could be seen.

The smith nodded, looking in the same direction "Anything works. Legend, Wind and Hyrule. You guys are with me." He pointed to each of them in turn before looking to Time. "Do you have steel?"

"We do. We should have had a shipment recently. And Malon's sent Talon to the town to grab some gemstones."

"good. I'm going to need a few hours." Time nodded as the small team turned away walking towards the forge around the side of the horse field.

"Now we keep Sky asleep."

"Leave that to me." Time pat the blue ocarina on his waist, "There's that melody he plays a lot. And I think I've learnt it."

With tasks in hand, each group want to do their respective tasks.

When Sky awoke it wasn't to the sun gently kissing his face, but he could hear the gentle melody of Zelda's lullaby gently floating through his ears.

Reaching out in front of him he found Fi's blade, a gentle smile drifting across his face he reached out for it. when his hand contacted something soft.

The sailcloth. Right. tucking it into himself he smiled.

He felt. Well rested, for the first time in a long time.

"Afternoon."

Afternoon?

Afternoon!

"Wha..?" He shot up quickly taking in his surroundings. this was the ranch, How had they gotten to the ranch? When had they?

"Hey... relax, we decided to let you sleep in today." Time stood up, walking over to the bed as he offered a hand. "the others have something to show you."

He took the offered hand. "Sorry for sleeping in..."

"It's no bother. Twilight carried you here. We thought it would be nicer for you to sleep in an actual bed." He directed Sky out of the room and downstairs.

"Happy birthday Sky!"

The first thing he saw was a flash of blue as two arms enveloped him.

the sailor...

"come on! We've got some stuff for you!" He said, pulling at the skyloftians's arm as he was walked into the room. a small pile of boxes on the centre table.

"Come on Come on Come on!"

Various gifts were handed to him as excited voices sounded. He got an enchanted ring from legend, a small pressed flower from Hyrule. A drawing of crimson from Wind, and a new sword sheath band from Warriors, Time and Twilight.

"Sorry, you couldn't be home for crimson to give you a feather. But. We made you this." Four stepped forward, holding a small box. "We all worked on it. thought you could use it for your woodworking?"

The skyloftian looked towards the smith before looking down at the box.

Lifting the lid he found a silver blade the same size as the carving knife. It was a relatively short blade with a small indent made into the blade itself. Inside lay a singular red crystal, the Handle of the blade was wrapped in a leather grip. A beautifully simple blade. he held it up to the light above him.

Then he traced his thumb over the guard. And found the taletale feeling of a rachis. The guards, fashioned to look like feathers were wide enough to be practical while also looking beautiful. The detail in their design almost made him want to not use the blade.

Though inspecting it further he discovered it a perfect sharpness for his woodwork. So that idea might be getting scrapped.

"I... This is beautiful." He smiled. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

The smith smiled, the veteran and the traveller beside him. "Happy birthday Sky."

And Sky smiled.

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nyxdreamweaver · 5 days ago

Text

Talking to a Horse in Latin

Jason's POV

Word count: 3,174

Warning: Spoilers to TLH, grammar issues, the HOO canon has derailed and crashed into the Grand Canyon!!

Likes ❤️, reblogs 🔁 and comments 💬 are much appreciated :3 Lmk if you want to be tagged for the next updates

Ao3 Link

<<Previous Next>>

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

As soon as Jason saw the house, he knew he was a dead man.

The distance from the lake they crashed in, all the way to the Big House was nothing to scoff at but Jason enjoyed the pace. During their walk, Mara had been explaining everything at camp from the archery area, the beach side on the other side of camp and the strawberry fields they pick and sell in the mortal world to earn money for the camp (Jason thought that was a smart way to earn money without being suspicious.)

While the hyperactive girl was talking up a storm, Jason couldn't help but feel nervous standing around Mara. It's like there's some sort of warning alarm going off in his head telling the boy, 'this girl is dangerous' but he has no clue why he was feeling this way. He felt bad for thinking that since the tiny girl has been nothing but nice to him and his friends, protecting them against the Venti. Maybe this Chiron guy could explain everything to him once they get there–

“–hello? Earth to Jason?” Realizing that Mara was speaking to him, Jason snapped out of his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“You were zoning out and almost bumped into that tree right there.” The goth girl pointed at the dangerously close tree next to him. He took a step back and returned to Mara's side.

”Thank you.�� He said, before they continue their way.

Mara's eyes shone with concern. “Are you okay? You have been out of it ever since we picked up you guys from Nevada. I mean, I kinda understand that everything right now is overwhelming for you. What with losing your memories, getting attacked by a monster disguised as your classmate, and almost losing your life twice, you would be expected to have a mini crisis right now.” For some reason, her voice sounded a bit more different than before. Like the tone had changed into a different one, more familiar to Jason.

He sighed. “I'm sorry, it's just.. everything is so confusing and no one close to me could figure out what's wrong with me. I woke up today with no recollection of my life besides my name. I have this weird coin that can turn into a sword, and before I got attacked, I had this weird flashback of someone I knew before.”

Mara hummed a reply. “Really? If you want, you can tell me about it.”

Jason started telling Mara about this girl he called sister who gifted him his coin sword. During this, Mara silently listened to him.

After he was done, Mara scratched her chin. “I see.. That is a good clue to your origins. You should let Chiron know about that.”

“Okay then.” Jason replied.

Just then, Mara gave him a toothy smile, showing off her fangs again. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your memories back and find your godly parent. You have great friends here willing to help and I’ll help you as well.”

After hearing that, Jason also smiled at the goth girl. She’s right, Jason has Piper and Leo who care about him a lot and now he has Mara. Maybe everything will be okay in the end.

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

After walking for some time, the two demigods reached their destination.

“Here we are!” Mara said cheerfully. “Welcome to the Big House, our camp headquarters.”

The place definitely looked much more cozy than Jason thought. Just a four-story manor painted baby blue with white trim. The wraparound porch had lounge chairs, a card table, and an empty wheelchair. Wind chimes shaped like nymphs turned into trees as they spun. Jason could imagine old people coming here for summer vacation, sitting on the porch and sipping prune juice while they watched the sunset. Still, the windows seemed to glare down at him like angry eyes. The wide open doorway looked ready to swallow him. On the highest gable, a bronze eagle weathervane spun in the wind and pointed straight in his direction, as if telling him to turn around.

Every molecule in Jason’s body told him he was on enemy ground. “I am not supposed to be here,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Mara asked. “Last I checked you're a demigod so you are supposed to be here. If it's about your missing memories, don't worry. Chiron would know what to do.”

She wasn’t looking at him, though. She was staring at a spot right above his head. “You’re waiting for a sign,” he guessed. “Like what popped over Leo’s head.”

“What? No! Well … yes. I mean, I am a bit curious about who is your godly parent but there has been no sign. Usually, you would've gotten claimed at least right about now.. Do you have any clue about it? Based on your figure, you could be an Ares’ kid or an Aphrodite kid but-”

As usual, Jason didn’t have an answer. He looked up, but no glowing sign popped above his head. At the top of the Big House, the weathervane was still pointing in his direction, that bronze eagle glaring as if to say, Turn around, kid, while you still can.

“Let's worry about that later. Come on, I'll take you inside the place.” Mara said, dragging the confused Albino demigod into the Big Houses porch.

“Are you sure this will work?” Jason asked.

Mara shook their head. “Yep, Chiron has lived for over a thousand years so he should have some experience with your dilemma.”

Mara was about to knock on the front door when the two heard footsteps on the front porch. No—not footsteps—hooves–coming their way.

“Over here, Chiron!” Mara called. “This is Jason. He’s a new camper we found!”

Jason backed up so fast he almost tripped. Rounding the corner of the porch was a man on horseback. Except he wasn’t on horseback—he was part of the horse. From the waist up he was human, with curly brown hair and a well-trimmed beard. He wore a T-shirt that said World’s Best Centaur, and had a quiver and bow strapped to his back. His head was so high up he had to duck to avoid the porch lights, because from the waist down, he was a white stallion.

Chiron started to smile at Jason. Then the color drained from his face. “You …” The centaur’s eyes flared like a cornered animal. “You should be.. dead.”

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

Chiron ordered Jason—well, invited, but it sounded like an order—to come inside the house. He told Mara to go back to her cabin, but Mara protested against it, choosing to stay so Chiron let her be.

The centaur trotted over to the empty wheelchair on the porch. He slipped off his quiver and bow and backed up to the chair, which opened like a magician’s box. Chiron gingerly stepped into it with his back legs and began scrunching himself into a space that should’ve been much too small. Jason imagined a truck’s reversing noises—beep, beep, beep—as the centaur’s lower half disappeared and the chair folded up, popping out a set of fake human legs covered in a blanket, so Chiron appeared to be a regular mortal guy in a wheelchair.

“Follow me,” he ordered. “We have some fresh lemonade.”

Chiron led them into what seems to be the house's living room, ordering him again to wait there while he chatted with Mara. The living room looked like it had been swallowed by a rainforest. Grapevines curved up the walls and across the ceiling, which Jason found a little strange. He didn’t think plants grew like that inside, especially in the winter, but these were leafy green and bursting with bunches of red grapes. Leather couches faced a stone fireplace with a crackling fire. Wedged in one corner, an old-style Pac-Man arcade game beeped and blinked. Mounted on the walls was an assortment of masks—smiley/frowny Greek theater types, feathered Mardi Gras masks, Venetian Carnevale masks with big beaklike noses, carved wooden masks from Africa. Grapevines grew through their mouths so they seemed to have leafy tongues.

Some had red grapes bulging through their eyeholes. But the weirdest thing was the stuffed leopard’s head above the fireplace. It looked so real, its eyes seemed to follow Jason. Then it snarled, and Jason nearly leaped out of his skin.

“Now, Seymour,” A new voice chided, “Be nice to our guest. I told you to be on your best behaviour, whenever someone visits.” The voice sounded sweet and angelic.

Behind Jason stood a tall girl with umber skin and middle length, black hair, carrying a tray of pink lemonade for Jason.. She wore a baby blue dress with pockets, white stockings, completing the whole outfit with a matching flower headband. But one thing that stood out the most was the acid scars that covered the left side of her face, along with some minor burns on her left arm as well. Her left eye was almost closed shut but he could see the slight blue hue from it.

“That thing is alive!” Jason said. The girl rummaged through the side pocket of her dress and brought out a package of Snausages. She threw one to the leopard, who snapped it up and licked his lips.

“You must excuse the strange décor,” she said. “All this was a parting gift from one of our old directors before he was recalled to Mount Olympus. He thought it would help us to remember him. Mr. D always had a strange sense of humor.”

“Mr. D…” Jason said. “Wait Dionysus? Like the Dionysus?”

“Mmm hmm.” She poured lemonade, her burned hands were trembling a little from holding the pitcher. “As for Seymour, well, Mr. D liberated him from a Long Island garage sale. The leopard is Mr. D’s sacred animal, you see, and Mr. D was appalled that someone would stuff such a noble creature. He decided to grant it life, on the assumption that life as a mounted head was better than no life at all. I must say it’s a much better fate than Seymour’s previous owner got.”

Seymour bared his fangs and sniffed the air, as if hunting for more Snausages.

“If he’s only a head,” Jason said, “where does the food go when he eats?”

“Better not to ask,” Chiron said, finally returning from his previous engagement with Mara in tow. “Thank you Silena, could you take Mara into the kitchen while I speak with our new camper?” The two girls, Silena and Mara, nodded and both left the living room.

“Jason, please, sit.” Chiron gestured to the leopard covered couch.

Jason sat down. After that he took some lemonade, though his stomach was fluttering. Chiron sat back in his wheelchair and tried for a smile, but Jason could tell it was forced. The old man’s eyes were as deep and dark as wells.

“So, Jason,” he said, “would you mind telling me—ah—where you’re from?”

“I wish I knew.” Jason told him the whole story, from waking up on the bus remembering nothing but his name and the strange dream to the strange memory of a possible person he knew before and finally crash-landing at Camp Half-Blood. He didn’t see any point in hiding the details, and Chiron was a good listener. He didn’t react to the story, other than to nod encouragingly for more. When Jason was done, the old man sipped his lemonade.

“I see,” Chiron said. “And you must have questions for me.”

“Only one,” Jason admitted. “What did you mean when you said that I should be dead?”

Chiron studied him with concern, as if he expected Jason to burst into flames. “My boy, do you know what those marks on your arm mean? The color of your shirt? Do you remember anything?” Jason looked at the tattoo on his forearm: SPQR, the eagle, twelve straight lines.

“No,” he said. “Nothing.”

“Do you know where you are?” Chiron asked. “Do you understand what this place is, and who I am?”

“You’re Chiron the centaur,” Jason said. “I’m guessing you’re the same one from the old stories, who used to train the Greek heroes like Heracles. This is a camp for Greek demigods, children of the Greek gods.”

“So you believe those gods still exist?”

“Yes,” Jason said immediately. “I mean, I don’t think we should worship them or sacrifice chickens to them or anything, but they’re still around because they’re a powerful part of civilization and they can exist in multiple countries all at the same time.”

“I couldn’t have said it better.” Something about Chiron’s voice had changed, just like what happened to Mara’s earlier. “So you already know the gods are real. You have already been claimed, haven’t you?”

“Maybe,” Jason answered. “I’m not really sure.”

Seymour the leopard snarled. Chiron waited, and Jason realized what had just happened. The centaur had switched to another language and Jason had understood, automatically answering in the same tongue.

“Quis erat—” Jason faltered, then made a conscious effort to speak English. “What was that?”

“You know Latin,” Chiron observed. “Most demigods here could recognize a few phrases, of course. It’s in their blood, but not as much as Ancient Greek. None can speak Latin fluently without practice.”

Jason tried to wrap his mind around what that meant, but too many pieces were missing from his memory. He still had the feeling that he shouldn’t be here. It was wrong—and dangerous. But at least Chiron wasn’t threatening. In fact the centaur seemed concerned for him, afraid for his safety. The fire reflected in Chiron’s eyes, making them dance fretfully.

“I taught your namesake, you know, the original Jason. He had a hard path. I’ve seen many heroes come and go. Occasionally, they have happy endings. Mostly, they don’t. It breaks my heart, like losing a child each time one of my pupils dies. But you—you are not like any pupil I’ve ever taught. Your presence here could be a disaster.”

“Thanks,” Jason said. “You must be an inspiring teacher.”

“I am sorry, my boy. But it’s true. I had hoped that after Percy’s success —”

“Percy Jackson, you mean…Annabeth’s boyfriend and Mara's friend, one of the missing kids.”

Chiron nodded. “I hoped that after he succeeded in the Titan War and saved Mount Olympus, we might have some peace. I might be able to enjoy one final triumph, a happy ending, and perhaps retire quietly. I should have known better. The last chapter approaches, just as it did before. The worst is yet to come.”

In the corner, the arcade game made a sad pew-pew-pew-pew sound, like a Pac-Man had just died.

“Ohh-kay,” Jason said. “So—the last chapter happened before, the worst yet to come. Sounds super fun, but can we go back to the part where I’m supposed to be dead? I don’t like that part.”

“I’m afraid I can’t explain, my boy. I swore on the River Styx and on all things sacred that I would never …” Chiron frowned. “But you’re here, in violation of the same oath. That too, should not be possible. I don’t understand. Who would’ve done such a thing? Who—”

Seymour the leopard howled. His mouth froze, half open. The arcade game stopped beeping. The fire stopped crackling, its flames hardening like red glass. The masks stared down silently at Jason with their grotesque grape eyes and leafy tongues.

“Chiron?” Jason asked. “What’s going—” The old centaur had frozen, too. Jason jumped off the couch, but Chiron kept staring at the same spot, his mouth open mid-sentence. His eyes didn’t blink. His chest didn’t move.

Jason, a voice said.

For a horrible moment, he thought the leopard had spoken. Then dark mist boiled out of Seymour’s mouth, and an even worse thought occurred to Jason: storm spirits. He grabbed the golden coin from his pocket. With a quick flip, it changed into his sword.

The mist took the form of a woman in black robes. Her face was hooded, but her eyes glowed in the darkness. Over her shoulders she wore a goatskin cloak. Jason wasn’t sure how he know it was goatskin, but he recognized it and knew it was important.

Would you attack your patron? the woman chided. Her voice echoed in Jason’s head. Lower your sword.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “How did you—”

Our time is limited, Jason. Her prison grows stronger by the hour. It took me a full month to gather enough energy to work even the smallest magic through its bonds. I’ve managed to bring you here, but now I have little magic and time left before they find out what I'm doing. This may be the last time I can speak to you again right now.

“Who's in prison?” Jason decided maybe he wouldn’t lower his sword. “Look, I don’t know you, and you’re not my patron.”

You do know me, she insisted. I have known you since your birth.

“I don’t remember. I can’t remember anything.”

No, you don’t, she agreed. That also was necessary. Long ago, your father gave me your life as a gift to placate my anger. He named you Jason, after my favorite mortal. You now belong to me.

“Whoa,” Jason said. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

But now is the time to pay your debt, she said. Find the prison. Free her, or he will rise from the earth, and everything the gods built will be destroyed. You will never retrieve your memory.

“Is that a threat? You're the one who took my memories!?” He bared his teeth again.

You have until sunset on the winter solstice, Jason. Four short days. Do not fail me. The dark woman dissolved, and the mist curled into the leopard’s mouth.

Time unfroze. Seymour’s howl turned into a cough like he’d sucked in a hair ball. The fire crackled to life, the arcade machine beeped, and Chiron said, “—would dare to bring you here?”

“Probably the lady in the mist,” Jason offered.

Chiron looked up in surprise. “Weren’t you just sitting … why do you have a sword drawn?”

“I hate to tell you this,” Jason said, “but I think your leopard just ate a goddess.” He told Chiron about the frozen-in-time visit, the dark misty figure that disappeared into Seymour’s mouth.

“Oh, dear,” Chiron murmured. “That does explain a lot.”

“Then why don’t you explain a lot to me?” Jason said. “Please.”

Before Chiron could say anything, footsteps reverberated on the porch outside. The front door blew open, and Annabeth and another girl, a redhead, burst in, dragging Piper between them. Piper’s head looked like she was unconscious.

“What happened?” Jason rushed over. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Hera’s cabin,” Annabeth gasped, like they’d run all the way. “Vision. Bad.” The redheaded girl looked up, and Jason saw that she’d been crying.

The other girls ran into the living room, shocked by the sight in front of them.

“What's happening? Is she okay” Mara asked.

“I think …” The redheaded girl gulped. “I think I may have killed her.”

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

A/N: we're getting closer to where we left off on the ao3 version. The actual next chapter will mostly likely be done by this week, maybe tomorrow at the earliest time

Now I should say this now, but in my au, both Greek and Roman gods are separate. This is mostly because the split personality plot line is problematic, plus the Greeks and Romans viewed the gods more differently so I'm going to try my best to write a healthy balance for them

Also, I get to do my si oc lore now!!! Hope you catch that throwaway line about Mara >:3

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Taglist: @punkeropercyjackson @dontspillthefrijoles43 @puriteenism @aurantiumred @yawnwhatyadoing @emmidemi @justhereforthememesnangst @padfoot-sirius-black @darwizzylover @sarcasticallyperfectperson @its-teeem @novaclips3 @an-asexual-crow

#demigods against fate #champions of hera #jason grace #mara muhammed #annabeth chase #rachel elizabeth dare #silena beauregard #chiron #pjo dionysus #pjo hestia #pjo hoo #pjo #percy jackson #emir muhammed #heroes of olympus #nyx's writing #pjo ocs

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lafiametta · 2 months ago

Note

I love your fics so far, they're so sweet. I know they're fictional characters but Ani and Igor deserve some happiness together and it's great they can have it in this way.

Also, your fics show that happiness can be shown in small but meaningful way. Honestly, watching the film, even if it hadnt been cut short, I don't think ani would've been truly happy with Ivan. Yes not worrying about money is great, but it would've been a life of being ignored by him until she could tempt him back with sex (shown twice which is another reason why she tries it with Igor, she thinks it's a power when it's actually a dumb boy thinking with his dick. Obviously it wouldve been better if she discovered this herself instead of it forcibly being taken from her, but at least now she can have some happiness with someone who actually cares.

Aw, thanks, Anon — I'm glad you've been enjoying my fics! I also really think they deserve some happiness and my goal is just to find those moments where they can start stumbling towards it. The ending of the film was such an emotional gut-punch and left the unresolved question of what would happen to Ani and Igor once the credits rolled. But what's so great about fic is that we can imagine what that might look like and give them a shot at happiness that the film's ending left unanswered.

And I totally agree with your assessment: Ani would have never been truly happy with Ivan because she could have never really been herself for fear that he wouldn't like it (and as a consequence take away all he had promised her in terms of a new life). Aside from yelling at him the tarmac (when she's starting to get the sense her relationship is over anyway), she never raises her voice to him, never argues with him, never really pushes back on anything he wants to do. She's docile and compliant, using her sexy customer service voice that she's honed after years of working at the club. One wonders how long she would have been able to keep up the act, but it's certain she would have had to drop the mask one day — who can really keep living a lie? And ultimately, Ivan never demonstrated that he was capable of love; in the end, he proved himself to be young, immature, and monstrously selfish. He could temporarily please her with expensive gifts, but she was also always going to be the lesser partner in the relationship because he held all the cards (i.e. the money).

Why it's different with Igor — at least in my opinion — is that Igor knows Ani far better than Ivan did, even after only knowing her for two days. He fundamentally wants to learn more about her as a person and in the end he truly sees her, who she is behind the masks she puts up. And like you said, he cares about her and wants her pain acknowledged (and, failing that, gets the ring back for her so at least there's some renumeration for what she's suffered). The two of them are far more likely to find happiness together because what they have is based on truth, not on transactions and performances.

#anora 2024 #anora movie #anora #anora mikheeva #ivan zakharov #igor #anora x igor #anigor #meta #ask and answer #anon asks

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whirlpool-blogs · 2 years ago

Text

Matthew Tkachuk Daddy Issues primer

1) https://floridahockeynow.com/keith-tkachuk-rips-the-florida-panthers-calls-them-a-soft-team/

“This is do-or-die for the Panthers right now,’’ Keith told First Up with Korolnek & Colaiacovo. “I watched them the other night and I know I am staying at Brady’s house and Brady’s team played really well. They have some jam and, you know, I am a little disappointed with the Panthers.

“They are a soft team and they are getting everything they deserve right now.” To continue on that point, Keith Tkachuk said for the Panthers to snap their losing streak in Toronto, they need to bring a little more toughness to their game.

“Instead of trying to get autographs on the ice from Matthews and Marner,” he said, “they probably should check them a little harder. Whatever it is, it is disappointing. I know I sound like a frustrated person, but I know every time I come and watch Ottawa, they may not be the most talented team but they’re going to play hard. Perhaps Florida could take a page out of their book.”

2) https://www.sportsnet.ca/nhl/article/senators-brady-wins-tkachuk-battle-bettman-hints-lebreton-flats-a-little-small/

There was a “Brady is Better” chant at a game when the two brothers played each other, and Keith was at that game. Some speculate that Keith started it.

3) https://www.bladeofsteel.com/Keith-Tkachuk-explains-why-he-would-not-throw-his-hat-for-his-son-hat-trick-goal-126638

Keith refusing to throw his hat for Matthew’s hat trick, even when Taryn and Brady were also at that game.

4) https://theathletic.com/351173/2018/05/13/in-the-tkachuk-family-its-chantal-who-is-the-captain-of-the-house/

[On the family chalkboard in the kitchen] “It’s always like, ‘Happy birthday’ or ‘Welcome home, Brady!’ or ‘Can’t wait for you to leave, Matthew,’” said a chuckling Keith Tkachuk.

xxx

[A little insight into Matthew being the intense one and Brady being easier to get along with]

It’s an interesting snapshot because Matthew, a fiery competitor who was twice suspended by the NHL last season, is smiling, while Brady, a happy-go-lucky personality, is scowling.

“This picture is great because now it’s the opposite,” Keith said.

“That’s so true, so true,” Chantal said.

xxx

Chantal reads everything about her boys, too, noting that she is a subscriber to The Athletic.

“I like it,” she said.

“Except when they gave Brady a bad draft rating,” Keith said.

xxx

Keith then reminded his kids, “You guys better get your butts to the store and get some cards for your mom.”

“Actually, Matthew bought me a Mother’s Day gift this year,” she said.

“He had to have gotten you something that benefited him,” Keith responded. “What did he buy you, like eight beers or something?”

“No, Lululemon shoes,” Chantal answered. “He’s a great gift giver now that he has his own money.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Matthew said.

5) https://theathletic.com/229963/2018/02/02/he-has-that-face-you-just-want-to-punch-matthew-tkachuk-isnt-about-to-change-the-way-he-plays/

“He has that face you just want to punch, according to other players,” said his father Keith.

“I’m sure if I played against him, I’d go after him, too.”

“This kid, I find a lot of flaws in his game because I’m his dad, and that’s what dads do.”

“I love the fact that he plays with an edge,” said Dad. “I told him that I’d rather see him sit out a game for being too aggressive than sit out a game because he’s soft.”

6) https://www.bardown.com/brady-matthew-tkachuk-s-parents-explain-why-they-re-happy-their-kids-aren-t-in-the-same-conference-1.1121784

Chantal, by the way, told me she is happy Matthew and Brady are not in the same conference. Keith said: “I’m glad too. I don’t trust Matthew.”

7) https://theathletic.com/1984477/2020/08/10/its-distinctly-matthew-tkachuks-postseason-presence-drawing-rave-reviews/

“Keith wanted Matthew’s coaches to push him as hard they could. He would tell me, ‘You can be more demanding,'” said Granato. “It’s delicate because, as a coach, you have to consider how hard you can push a guy. And you love the guys you can push harder. Those are the guys you fall in love with as a coach. With Matthew? There was no limit.”

8) https://www.sportsnet.ca/nhl/article/tkachuk-brothers-vibrant-personalities-stem-from-colourful-st-louis-roots/

Keith said he remembered watching Matthew on the After Hours segment on Hockey Night in Canada as a rookie, conducting the whole interview with his head down.

“I said, ‘What are you doing? Get your head up and talk,’” said Keith.

“But now it’s like this (as he snaps his fingers).

“I watched Matthew interviewed last night and he was pretty good. He adds some normal stuff to it that people like. It’s not about the same answers. He does a good job.”

9) https://theathletic.com/4503016/2023/05/10/matthew-tkachuk-florida-panthers-nhl-playoffs/

From his father, Keith Tkachuk, he learned to accept responsibility: "You didn't win? Play better."

10) https://www.tumblr.com/matthewtkafuck/190505229656?source=share

Keith: “Matthew’s in love, but with himself.”

11) https://www.tumblr.com/raliegh/680996428961726464/lettucemakar-matthew-daddy-issues-tkachuk?source=share

Q: "What sort of text message do you think you'll get after getting five points against the team your dad works for?"

MT: "Um, I'm not sure, I'm sure he would have, I don't know maybe I'm putting words in his mouth--I'm not even going to say it, what I was about to--but he probably wanted it to be an OT game but for us to play well. Um, I don't know who he wanted to win the OT game but uh, no he, he, it doesn't matter what team he works for but he's obviously my [and] my brother's biggest fan and great mentor and obviously not only him but my linemates and teammates know how much I want to win against those guys, hometown team lots of people watching, same as, we got a lot of guys from Toronto, its like when we go to Toronto we want to win that game for the guys that are from there, tons of people watching so, I don't know exactly what he'll text me. Maybe he went to bed early and I won't even get a text I don't know."

#Matthew Tkachuk #keith tkachuk #Disclaimer: I do not claim to have any deep insights into actual!Matthew or actual!Keith’s relationship. Consider this a reference for quote #Feel free to interpret these quotes however you wish #post

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poetpony6890 · 5 months ago

Text

Drunken words, Sober thoughts

“Why would you allow him to drink that much?!” Alden exclaimed, watching as Ash shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh do not give me that shit. Who were you drinking with?” Alden asked, as Kit kept heaving into the bucket placed behind the sea creature covered panel, although it did not provide much privacy as everyone watched.

“Matais and Altair.” Ash replied, seeing no point in lying as neither of the two could kept their mouths shut.

“Where?” Alden asked, soothing the silk fabric of Kits traditional nixie drape, which had recently come into fashion with the arrival of a new king, they called them flows, as they hung off each limb of the body.

“In the woods.” Ash answered, moving towards the vanity that used to be Adaons to look at himself.

“Bullshit.” Alden declared, as Kit heaved once more into the wooden bucket.

“In the tent.” Ash muttered, Alden threw up his hands as Kit threw up his breakfast.

“Why would you go in there?! That was the one place Kieran told you not to go!” Alden scolded.

As Ash blandly ignored him and fixed his fabric in the mirror, the wooden door to the fae lantern lit room swung. In came both Denaruis, dressed in a flow as well, maroon and ebony and Kieran.

Since becoming King, the thing that has changed the most about the youngest son was his appearance, he had sunned the thought of how he had been dressed before, descended from years of cruelty, he had switched out the three piece ensemble that everyone had seen his father wear, and now regarded as a nixie head, an ivory and azure stained flow with a matching pair of opal earrings, and a stunning necklace.

His hair had even grown twice as long, now reaching the end of his shoulders, this time more wavy than ever.

“What is the matter?” He asked, coming around to the opposite side of the panel, bending down beside his nephew, ruffling Ashes silver blond hair well passing, who adjusted the ruby gem in the centre of his chest.

“Drinking is the matter.” Alden stated clearly, as Denaruis moved over to the large than normal round.

Not only had the fashion of the courts changed, but also the decor, Kierans first thought as King was to demolish the awful marble chairs that he had been informed no one had the guts to tell his father they did not like with a silver hanging chair, with handmade pillows, soft cushions and a table in the central.

“Who with?” Kieran asked, as Ash called Denaruis over with his hands to sit with him, bringing Adaons brush.

“Altair. In the tent.” Alden stated, as he got up and joined his honorary nephew and his brother.

“Are you fucking-?!” Kieran started.

“I love him so much and he hates me because I’m a dog murder!!” Kit suddenly came to.

“Ty?” Ash asked, who was now playing a game of cards with his uncles, which he always seemed to lose.

“It was just a dog.” Kieran stated, as the door to the room opened once more hastily as his mother came in.

“We replaced the dog.” Alden declared, slamming his cards down on the table and collecting his winnings.

She rushed over with a handfuls of fabric, bending next to the bucket and holding them out for Kieran to look over, as she did so she realized Kit was still heaving. She leaned down beside him and brushed his soft blond hair aside to avoid the vomit.

“It wasn’t just a dog. I yelled at him!” Kit cried as Thea slipped the sleeves of his vomit soaked flow off him.

“So, you yelled at him?” Alden questioned, shuffling the painted cards.

“He probably hates me!” Kit kept going, as Thea stood up and slid over to the wardrobe that had been a welcoming gift from the new kings many subjects, who upon seeing what he was capable of, wished to be.

“Why do you care so much about him? He is just a shadow hunter.” Denaruis asked, looking at his cards.

“Because I love him!” Kit sobbed, as Kieran stood but and moved over to his wooden wash table.

No one commented as Kieran pressed a cloth to his face to remove the mess, then Thea came behind him and slid an embroidered nightgown over his head, then down to his legs, helping him stand up on his feet.

“Do you love him or do you think to love you have to be in such pain?” Alden questioned, placing a card.

As Kieran helped him onto his bed, tucked him under the blankets, he wondered what the answer would be.

“No more drinking.” Kieran declared as he left the bed and joined his brothers on the floating seat.

After a few tosses and turns, the door opening and closing as Thea set out on her latest trend, Basil came in to gamble with a handful of coins, and finally General Winter came in to check on Kit, who he had watched try and keep up with Altair the alcoholic. He brassed his hand over Kits forehead, who glared at him.

“I helped him raise his sister from the dead.” Kit muttered, Winter leaned down to hear him.

“What do you mean you helped raise his sister from the dead?!” He shouted, Kieran and Alden whipped around.

“You raised his sister from the dead, what is wrong with you!!” Kieran shouted, swinging from his seat.

“I love him, Kieran.” Kit stated, as his uncle came and folded his knees in front of him.

“I know you do. What made you believe you had to do that?” Kieran wondered.

“Because he asked me to.” Kit whispered, looking deeply into Kierans saddened slate eyes.

From the seat, Ash swung off and came to join the two on the bed but not before removing his dirty boots.

“If he asked you do shoot yourself in the head would you do it?” Kieran asked, holding up the blanket for Ash

“If it saves him.” Kit muttered, Kieran shook his head disapprovingly, as Ash laid next to his brother.

As both Alden and Denaruis came over, Kit was certain he would shoot him self in the head for Ty. Tiberius.

“You must reflect for a moment on that thought, surely you would not go to such lengths for someone who would not even visit you well you here cooped up with those faceless freaks.” Denaruis shamed.

Yet on of those very same freaks had allowed him into his house, his life, his heart and he had packed up and left with the very same people he had been protecting him from long before he was born.

“He was going through a hard time.” Kit cleared, as Alden came to the left of him and soothed his head.

“When people go through a hard time they drink. When people change the foundations of their futures, they become someone else. Someone you may not know.” Winter declared, coming beside Kieran, who held Ashes hand as he fished with the rings on his fingers.

“I do know him.” Kit stated, relaxing into Alden’s hand as he messaged his scalp with his soft fingers.

“You have an unclear version of love I believe. People who love you would not ask for you to do such things.” Kieran stated, Kit thought back to the many times he had wished for love in that lonely house, waiting.

“I know what love is, I’m not stupid.” Kit shot, gazing his drunken eyes over the tapestry of animals over him.

“I did not say you were, Scoldia. What does love mean to you, in your heart? Have you ever felt it?” Kieran asked, as Winter watched Ash glare at Kit, Kit glare at the ceiling, Alden glare at Denaruis and Denaruis at him

“A lot more than you have.” Kit shot, Kieran, already a tad impatient, took a breath before losing it.

“You think so? Do you think love is being left for dead with a pack of wolves, do you think love is being locked in a house with no key? As a prince at a top of a tower you are. You have no context of love because you have never had it. Love is not leaving you alone for weeks because they could not deal with you. Being forced to take pictures in the bath, to be seen nude as a statue. Thrown against walls, punched in your jaw,burned with cigarettes where the eye does not meet, beaten with a belt until your back was raw at your refusal. Some people are not capable of love, Kit. If you had ever been given any you would know this.” Kieran finished, trying to raise his alarmed voice.

“We needed money.” Kit breathed as he turned into the feathered pillow beneath his head.

“You needed a father.” Kieran murmured, shaking his head.

“You need a father.” Kit drunkenly answered.

“I killed my father and for good reason.” Kieran stated, as Denaruis nodded in agreement.

“Well, I didn’t kill my dad. We aren’t the same.” Kit shoot.

“You didn’t have to. His vileness still seaps within you.” Kieran spat, standing from the bed back to the seat.

“I could say the same for you.” Kit argued, causing Ash to slap his shoulder slightly and Alden to back up.

“If you wish for me to say that I am an awful fae so be it. I am awful, I am vile, I am mean. I am aware of my actions, I have never claimed to deny them. I murdered my father, the father of my brothers. I would never go back and change what I have done. He was an absolute horrid man, an abusive father and an awful king. Every night I go to bed with the information that I have done it for the better.

Same goes for slitting Erecs neck open, I would do it every day over, because although they may not live forever, the memory of it will in my mind. I did not do it for just myself, I have done it for every one of the members of my tower, who have insured his rein. I have found them inner justice as I hope you can as well. Do not let your upbringing affect who you will become, because I know in my soul that you are much more than a monster, a dealer, a snake, an informant. If you never see yourself as more, you will never be more.”

“But that’s all I know, what if I’m not good at anything else?” What if that is all I’m ever going to be?”Kit asked, allowing his eyes to glaze over with the wine.

“You must stop thinking about who you were and start thinking of who you are.” Alden cleared.

“I don’t know who I am.” Kit hushed, looking towards his elder uncle as his eyes glazed over into sleep.

“You will find out as we all do, through error. I did not become General over a night. You must fail before you succeed. We will find a way to rid you of the ghosts of your pasts.” Winter cleared, as Kit remained silent.

“Why were you drinking to begin with?” Kieran asked, now turning to face Ash.

“He wished to, I simply came along. I did not drink.” Ash verbalized, as Kieran rolled his dark eyes.

“Why did he wish to drink?” Kieran questioned, forming a pleasant dream in his hands for his nephew.

“It ‘tis all he has ever known.” Ash muttered, leaning into Kits chest and falling asleep same as him.

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