#because she pushed him and hedged him to fit into this space in her life

[halechief]

fellas the nonconsensual aspect of tom and claire’s relationship at times has got me seriously fucked up in the club.

[amphxtrite]

cedric diggory x slytherin fem!reader

warnings: smut, swearing, oral (female receiving), hand job, fingering, riding, kind of dom x dom, spelling/ grammar mistakes.

do not read if you are not comfortable.

summary: Badgers and snakes are born into their rivalry, even in the wild they are practically bred to fight and show their dominance. Cedric and the reader have hated each other from the moment they met. It’s not until Cedric puts his name into the goblet of fire and nearly gets killed that feelings become clear. fluff at the end.

a/n: thank you to @cedricsyellowscarf and nonnie for requesting!

word count: 4.6k

enjoy <3

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When you think of slytherins, what’s the first thing you think of?

Cunning, resourceful, and badass?

Y/n L/n was all the above when you thought of a stereotypical member of the house of black and green, someone who knew what they wanted and would fight with a smirk on her face.

Hufflepuffs on the other hand are thought to be loyal, compassionate, and sweet.

Cedric Diggory fit the description perfectly. The school golden boy with a pretty face and a kind personality.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But just like in nature, the badger and the snake were born to fight.

When Cedric first met you, a chill went up his spine, everything about you screamed ‘no’ at him and had a scowl resting on his face seconds after just seeing you. Similarly, the hufflepuff gave off a goody-two-shoes aura, someone who couldn’t relax and caved into every demand thrown at them. You didn’t know why, but you had the overwhelming urge to push all this boy’s buttons and drive him insane. Maybe it was the whole ‘strict prefect, and perfect person’ thing going on, but you just wanted to have some fun with him.

You started small. Flirtatious winks, smirks and checking him out when you knew he was looking. The reactions ranged from annoyed to bashful and if you were lucky he grew absolutely seething.

“What the hell are you doing l/n?” He sighs as you brush your arm past him in the hall.

“What Diggory? Am I not good enough to be in your presence?” You scoff, turning to face him. “Listen, I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work.” The badger snarled.

“Oh Diggory, it already has.” Your smirk, brushing your wand down his jawline and licking the outside of your teeth.

Cedric couldn’t explain what got him so ticked off about you, maybe it was your care-free demeanour; someone who could get whatever she wanted with a snap of her fingers. He’d seen you in between classes, people fawning over you or begging for your forgiveness, only to be met by your stoic face. Your whole being betrayed every instinct and belief Cedric held, and the voice in his head begged to attack.

And so the battle between the badger and the snake continued, you pushed the badger’s buttons, challenging him and egging him on to snap.

“I’m not going to ask again l/n.” The brunette seethed, taking hold of your arm and pulling you back towards him after your fingers brush his back. “Ask what?” You cock your eyebrow with a grin.

“Did the pretty boy finally lose his composure?” Your grin turns malicious and Cedric pushes you against the wall. “In your dreams l/n.”

“Oh indeed you do.”

The two of you were natural born rivals, coexisting to keep the other on their toes and keep natural instincts alive. Both sides are stubborn, unwilling to let the other win. It was destined that one of you would though, these things don’t just end in draws.

As you ‘flirted’ relentlessly, Cedric’s only offence was his retaliation. He had a feeling you’d stop if he never reacted, but a piece of Cedric enjoyed the challenge and almost craved the game.

When the badger put his name into the goblet of fire you almost scoffed. Maybe you had done it, driven him off the edge and caused him to go insane. But as the boy clad in black and yellow turned to reveal a smile, you nearly choked on your pumpkin juice. How on Earth was this fool smiling at the fact he could’ve just signed himself up for a public, gruesome death.

It may be hard to believe, but even snakes can become ‘compassionate’ when it comes to things they are close too, and while you couldn’t call what you and Cedric had, a compassionate situation, a sense of worry and dread overtook your senses.

“Hey is your head in the right space?” You fall into step with the badger and place your hand onto his forehead to check if the boy was sick.

“What is your problem?” Cedric flinches back, confusion flashing onto his face as soon as your hand comes into contact with him.

“Oh I’m just checking you haven’t lost your mind Diggory.” You roll your eyes and flash a sickly sweet smile.

“It’s none of your business what I choose to do l/n, now leave me alone.” The brunette’s face remains firm.

“As you wish, your majesty.” You smirk and fall back to head to your friends.

Despite the internal fight the hufflepuff couldn’t help but almost feel sorry for the way he reacted to your gesture. It was the first time you’d shown any type of kindness towards him. And while rather strange, he knew he shouldn’t have let his aggressiveness win over his true personality.

The badger never found his voice to apologize though, and the rivalry proceeded. You wiped any trace of worry from your face and continued your mission of driving the golden boy crazy. Only thing that was different was the way Cedric reacted. When you first began your flirtatious mission, Cedric grew angry and annoyed at your attempt to gain his attention. He knew you were trying to distract him and he let it get to him.

The silver-eyed hufflepuff started to look forward to your pestering, your flirting was the only fun he got after his name was pulled from the goblet. His schedule became jam packed with training, classes and pity parties from every student who made eye-contact with him. He was happy to see that something hadn’t changed.

The first task came and had you holding your breath at each champion’s battle with their dragon. Your mouth dropped open in awe at each unique way of conquering the task, and by the time Cedric stepped up to face the Short-Snout, you were already on the edge of your seat.

Snakes are in no means known for their love, but it is known they can show compassion in subtle ways. Worry blossomed in your stomach as you watched Cedric transfigure the boulder into a dog, he was taking a huge risk using it as a distraction, when the dragon could turn at any moment. Cedric managed to grab the egg moments before the dragon lost interest in the labrador, and a weight seemed to lift from your shoulders and a small smile shone through as you joined in on the applause.

The second task arrived and the four champions dive into the water in search of their treasure. Cedric surfaced first with the girl who attended the ball with him, ensuring his spot in first. Krum was next with Hermione, Harry coming in last, but with Fleur’s person along with his.

Cedric was rather confused to see Cho at the bottom of the lake. The egg stated the treasure was the thing they missed the most, so the professors must have gotten the wrong idea when Cedric showed up at the dance with the ravenclaw, she’d simply been kind enough to be there as support because Cedric had no one else to attend with.

By the third task, the entire wizarding world was biting their nails at the anticipation of the triwizard tournament. Sitting in the bleachers in front of the massive maze, it made you uneasy you may have to sit through one of these champion’s screams, injuries or even death.

“Tied In first place we have Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter. They will enter first, shortly followed by Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour.”

At the sound of the flare, the hufflepuff and gryffindor cautiously make their way into the green maze, choosing each step with caution and wands clutched tightly in their hands, until all that was seen was the walls of the hedge.

Cedric had endured a lot through the triwizard tournament and he was not going to give that up for anything. When he spotted Harry close by the cup, his aggressive side took over and he tried to beat the boy who lived. When Harry actually ended up saving his life, he knew there was no way he could take this victory.

The two of them touched the cup and suddenly the world morphed and they were transported to a graveyard. “A… Portkey.”

A short man enters their vision as Cedric’s weakened frame points his wand towards the intruder. “Petrificus Totalus!” The unknown man shouts as Cedric’s body seizes and he falls flat on his face, his body ignoring his constant attempts at moving to help Harry, he can only listen to everything happening as he lays uselessly against the ground.

“Cedric! Get up, we need to go now!” Harry’s frantic voice calls as He pushes Voldemort and his death eaters back. The binding pressure is suddenly released and the hufflepuff immediately jumps to his feet. He runs to the portkey, throwing back any death eaters getting too close to Harry before grabbing his hand and taking hold of the triwizard cup.

The two boys are transported back into the maze, but they waste no time rushing out and grabbing hold of the first people they see. “V-Voldemort’s back!” Harry screams, followed by Cedric’s own voice. Looks of confusion flash on everyone in the audience's face, but as the champions break down they have no way to deny it, something terrible was coming to Hogwarts.

Amos Diggory makes a beeline for his son while Harry is dragged away by professor Moody. Cedric is gasping for breath and searching around for something, someone, to keep him sane. When your eyes meet Cedric’s eyes flash in hope and he begins to limp in your direction, stumbling and falling often, but not leaving his path despite his father’s grasp. You stand to question the hufflepuff, but he simply collapses into your arms.

“I-I’m so sorry for how I t-treated you. I shouldn’t have let m-my feelings define you, a-and I hate that I despised you for n-no reason.” Cedric begins to cry in fear he could’ve died without finally getting his apology off his chest. He wraps you tightly in his arms and his breathing grows rapid. “P-Please forgive me.” He manages in between breaths and your emotionless barrier falls. “Deep breaths Diggory, you’re going to pass out if you keep this up.” You caress the boy’s back in a soothing manner, but Cedric’s murmuring only rapidly increases, and you were beginning to feel a headache. “Hey, it's alright! I forgive you.”

His muttering continues.

“Ced, please you’re bleeding, let’s go get help.”

No use.

As a final resort you gently lift Cedric’s face from the crook of your neck; tears are streaming down his face and apologies continue to flood your ears.

“Save your breath Diggory.” You smirk, pressing your lips to Cedric’s scabbed pink ones.

Your lips are still as Cedric registers your movement, his eyes widen, but slowly close as your smooth lips pull him into a daze. The slight taste of blood is forgotten as Cedric stands and cups his hands around your face, tilting his face to deepen the kiss and slip his tongue into your mouth. As he familiarizes himself with your taste a low groan emits from the back of the champion’s throat and he pulls away to look at you.

In nature, badgers and snakes are natural born enemies, but when Cedric looked into your eyes, the badger lost its temper and the snake became calm. In the Hogwarts walls the snake and the badger felt something new bubble inside them, and the statement ‘opposites attract’ finally began to make sense. Two people, so different, yet so drawn to each other. Finally giving in to their feelings, with primal instincts still flooding their senses.

“You shouldn’t have done that, once I start, I might not be able to stop.” Cedric’s voice grows low in arousal and he leans his face closer to yours.

“Then don’t stop Diggory, take me.”

Cedric immediately takes your hand in a firm grip and walks you down the bleachers, promising his father to go to the hospital wing, but entering the quidditch pitch’s change room instead.“I-I need you y/n. Fuck, you’ve made me want you for so damn long.” He moans desperately, pushing you against the stone wall and placing his hands wherever he could. You trail your fingers down the hufflepuff’s torso and nibble on his lower lip. Cedric’s hips jolt and you’re met with a sudden pressure on your lower abdomen.

“Someone’s excited.” You smirk, reaching your hand down the brunette’s trousers to take his length into your hand.

Your eyebrows raise at the champion’s size, but you don’t let it shine through as your tease your hand against him, brushing past his tip before using his precum as lubricant to move against him.

When Cedric’s face contorted into a look of pure pleasure and lust, you were sure that this was the reaction you’d wanted from Cedric from the start. Lip in between his teeth and eyes shut tight as he bites back moans and lightly tugs on your hair.

You move your hand faster, smirking in pride as loud whimpers begin to exit beautifully from Cedric’s lips and he begins rocking himself against your palm.

“You like it when I use my hand Diggory?” You tease, applying even more pressure to his aching cock as he began to twitch in your grasp.

“Oh fuck yes y/n, just like that.” The hufflepuff’s rough hands move down from your hair to grasp your face and connect your lips again, drowning out the sound of pure ecstasy leaving his mouth with each thrust of your hand.

“You better be quiet Diggory, or people will know how much of a naughty boy you are.” You whisper in a low voice.

“I’d watch your mouth if I was you.”

Cedric removes your hand from his pants and pushes you on to a wide bench, holding you down so you can’t move.

“Now it’s my turn to make you writhe.” He growls with a devilish grin, pressing open mouth kisses against your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin as he works off your skirt.

Your head falls to the side as Cedric finds your weak spot, a mewl signaling him to go harder. His hands pull down the zipper on your back and he carefully pulls it down as your intoxicating whimpers egg him further on.

“Well princess, I guess you got what you wanted.” Cedric smirks, dropping to his knees in front of you and throwing your skirt to the side.

“You’re driving me absolutely insane.”

Euphoria flows through every single nerve in your body when Cedric presses his rough fingers against your clit, the only thing separating you and pure bliss being a thin piece of fabric. Cedric uses the cloth of your panties as extra friction, slowly circling his fingers around as your back arches and your breath grows irregular. Leaning forwards, he takes the lace of your undergarment between his teeth and pulls it down your thighs, swiftly prying your legs apart as soon as your panties drop to your feet and pass your ankles. “Now be a good girl and keep these open, alright?” Cedric mutters, in a dark voice as he descends.

The hufflepuff tests the waters by licking a stripe up your core, hiding a cheeky grin at the sound of your choked moan and continuing to lap at your slick folds.

Your vision fills with dots and your mind is deprived of any thought, your only feeling was Cedric’s strong tongue flicking around and dipping in and out of your slit.

“So wet for me love?” He groans deeply, the taste of your heat, causing his arousal to grow exponentially. Your only response is the incoherent moans and curses stringing past your lips as your back arches and your body pulses in bliss.

As your hips start to buck and your legs close against his face, Cedric uses one hand to press your abdomen down and using his arm and other hand he pushes your legs apart again, your moans fueling his strength. When the brunette adds his fingers into the array, your hands move from your clothed breasts to Cedric’s soft brown hair. A sudden rush of pleasure has your grip tightening in the champions curls, and a loud curse echoes through the empty room.

“You like it when I pull your hair like that Diggory?” You tease through the pulsing in your body. “Fuck, do that again y/n.” His deep growl responds as his fingers quicken and hit deeper inside your tight walls.

With each tight grip in Cedric’s curls, a loud moan was heard in response as he thrusts his fingers deeper and sucks harder, letting his moans vibrate through to your clit to fill your lower stomach with butterflies.

“I-I’m gonna cum!” You whimper loudly.

“You can cum if you beg.” The hufflepuff purrs with one last roll of his tongue, pausing his fingers, still deep inside of you. Every ounce of your dignity is shredded as the pleasure of Cedric’s mouth and fingers stop.

“Please Diggory, let me cum.” You mewl in desperation, but he doesn’t move.

“Try again love.” He smirks in amusement.

“Please Cedric, you make me feel so good! I’m so fucking close, I need to cum.” You moan in frustration, grinding your hips frantically for any friction. Cedric chuckles darkly, pulling his fingers out almost fully before slamming right back into you.

“Merlin, you say my name so perfectly darling.” The brunette grins, pulling his finger out and slamming back again.

“Say it again.” Cedric commands, attaching his lips to your clit, his fingers now ramming in and out of you.

“Cedric! Oh fuck!” your choked voice almost comes out as a sob, and your incoherent moans mix deliciously with your lover’s name.

With the combined stimulation of Cedric’s rough fingers and strong tongue, a coil snaps as your body seems to lose control. Writhing, pulsing, and gripping Cedric’s hair as you pant for breath.

Cedric pauses the assault with his tongue, but continues using his fingers to help ride out your high.

When the shockwaves finally stop and you’re able to open your eyes again, Cedric is leaning directly above you, a grin plastered on his face. “You’re so beautiful when you cum.” The hufflepuff begins kissing down your neck as his hands move down his torso and pulls his shirt up his chest. Cedric pauses to wince as cuts reopen and the fabric irritates his bruises, but when you sit up to help him, he pushes you down again. “I’m fine, It’s just a couple scratches.” He smirks looking back down at you, but you’ve regained your senses and have pushed the toned champion back onto the bench and climbed onto his lap.

“Are you sure? You looked pretty banged up.” your voice comes out as a soft whisper as you begin to press butterfly kisses to his bruises.

“Yes, f-fuck y/n.” He groans as you suddenly bite down on his shoulder, sucking on it for a couple seconds until you’re sure a hickey will form.

“Good, because it’s my turn now.”

You lift your hips from his lap to tug his shorts down and he lifts his bottom up to help you. As soon as they’re off you begin to unbutton your blouse, shrugging it off before leaning forwards and running a finger down Cedric’s abdomen. “Help me?” You smirk, standing and brushing your hair aside to reveal your bra strap. Cedric obliges with shaky fingers as his cock grows harder and begins twitching. Once it comes loose, you turn and connect lips with Cedric’s again, moving your hand to the back of the brunette’s head to run your hands through his hair and cup his jaw. Cedric takes your hips into his hands and slowly brings you towards him again. You shuffle onto Cedric’s lap again, hovering just above his cock as he rubs the sides of your body.

Without warning you sink onto him, relaxing your walls to take all of Cedric’s length. His grip on your waist tightens as you wrap around him. Strings of curses leave his mouth as his head falls onto your shoulder and he nips at the sensitive skin. When you’re halfway down, he moves his hands from your hips to your breasts, massaging them roughly and peppering kisses all over. With the Help of Cedric’s wandering hands and caring mouth, you bottom out and adjust to the feeling of being full. Your hands dig into Cedric’s shoulder blades and you begin moving up and down. It’s slow at first, you aren’t quite sure how to do it, but the hufflepuff uses his hands on your hips to guide you and soon you’re bouncing up and down, the grip on your side and the waves of euphoria from Cedric’s cock pushing you further than you could have ever thought possible.

“You feel so good darling.” Cedric sighs, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth wide open as your walls wrap tighter against him with each bounce. You don’t respond, your thoughts occupied with keeping the euphoric feeling coming. Using Cedric’s broad shoulders you begin to pick up the pace, sucking dark marks into existence on his chest, panting breathy moans into his ear and tightening your grip around his shaft to earn you that desperate moan that made you dizzy.

With the overstimulation from your voice and love bites Cedric could feel his release coming, but he wasn’t ready to end this just yet, with the last couple bounces he summoned as much strength as he could to lift you from his lap and release onto your abdomen. It took everything in him not to drop you or collapse right there, but he managed, setting you back down on the wide bench to push you back and tilt your chin up to meet eye to eye.

“Don’t t-think I’m done with you yet princess.” He growls.

The lustful look in your eyes as your pupils dilated and your mouth hung open had him hard all over again and before you could reply with something witty, he pounded right back into you.

Your head is thrown back at the new angle Cedric is fucking you in, your back arches so he can move deeper and your legs swing up to wrap around his torso, bringing him impossibly close to you. Cedric responds with vigorous thrusts, desperate for you to submit to him and end this with him on top. While he desperately rolls his hips into yours, you pull his head down and reconnect your lips, using your tongue to explore his mouth as you swallow the breathy moans of the grey eyed hufflepuff. Your teeth clash, lips mold and tongues dance as Cedric fucks you senseless.

“Oh fuck Cedric right there!” You cry, rolling your hips up to meet the champion’s needy thrusts and allowing your moans to fill the empty air. Skin hitting skin is the only sound other than your moans and cries mixing together, intimately connecting and reconnecting over and over as wave after wave of pleasure and euphoria floods your veins and every corner of your body. Your eyes roll back and your toes curl with each movement of Cedric’s hips and with his arms pinned above your head and his low groans right in front of your face you could not contain the knot that was forming in your abdomen. Your nails rake down Cedric’s back and bury themselves into his hair as you grin victoriously at the loud profanities spilling through his gritted teeth. With each pump of his length the knot grows tighter and tighter, Pleasure is swapped with pure bliss and Cedric can feel it too as his thrusts grow sloppy and your core tightens against him. He lets himself go, and you follow right behind him. The proof of your pleasures stream between the two of you, down your legs and in between where you are still connected.

Cedric helps you ride out your high as you run your shaky finger up and down his chest, a smile growing on your face as Cedric finally opens his eyes and looks back down at your tired form, panting and grinning back down at you.

“I win.” He smirks, lazily pulling out of you and resting himself on his elbows.

“In your dreams Diggory.” You roll your eyes and move some hair out of the boy’s face.

“Oh are we back on the last name basis?” Cedric chuckles, cupping your cheek and using his thumb to circle your cheek.

“Only if you want Ced.” You sigh, tilting your head closer to Cedric’s warm palm.

“Well in that case, you better get used to calling me Cedric, y/n.” The hufflepuff beams, sitting up and pulling you onto his lap.

Your eyes widen and you begin to laugh joyously as you connect your lips to Cedric’s again, mumbling sweet nothings in between each peck. You stay like that for a second, in each other’s arms, relishing the feeling of finally being complete and content, but as you press your hand to Cedric’s chest he winces and you know the moment has to end.

“Alright lover boy, it’s time to get you to the hospital wing.” You sigh, pecking Cedric’s lips once more before grabbing your wand and quickly cleaning off the mess in between you and Cedric’s legs. “Do I have too?” Cedric groans, pulling you back to him, as you clasp your bra on. “I’m sure I’ll be fine just sitting here in your arms.” He states staring lovingly into your eyes. “Sorry Ced, but even I don’t know a lot of healing spells and by the look of it you’re gonna need them.” You giggle, standing on shaky legs as you pick up your blouse and skirts again.

“Get changed Ced, I’ll meet you outside.” You smirk, slowly making your way out of the room with a slight swing in your hips.

Taking a deep breath of the night air, you take a moment to really take in what just happened. You thought you hated that boy, but maybe that was just for show. Maybe you’d always had feelings for the boy with the yellow scarf and you had been too naive to realize it. It felt strange how the part of your brain that convinced you to fight was now telling you this was right, but you were fine with it, your whole perspective had changed of this boy from the moment he came limping to you in the stadium.

Cedric had similar thoughts as he tugged on his shirt and pants. He finally realized the feeling he got when you looked at him wasn’t annoyance, it was a crush. A fancy that he wanted so badly to deny, but embrace at the same time, and now he could.

As he finally walked out to you and wrapped you in his arms, you knew it was right and you were where you are meant to be. As you interlocked hands with the grey eyed hufflepuff, making your way towards the castle and your new life. Something was made crystal clear.

Badgers and snakes are natural born enemies, made to fight and hate each other. But you and Cedric aren’t the animals you are associated with,

you’re humans and you had the choice to decide how you would treat your opposite.

And although the two of you were clear descriptions of the houses you were assigned, your personalities molded perfectly.

As Cedric lay in the hospital bed, Madam Pomfrey healing his wounds, you stuck by his side and held his hand, knowing the snake would never define you. The badger would never define Cedric. You were your own people, and you were in love.

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Glad you're enjoying the story and picking up where we left off, I have some ideas for the direction of the story taking into account my personal vision and my own OC "Kiell" which I decided not to post anywhere. I'm sure Stella the moment she saw Blitzo she would attack you, but after many hours with you trying to keep Stella under control so as not to destroy half of the palace in search of Blitzo. Later, after a brief fight with Stolas, Stella decides to go shopping with s / n and during the

Stella with her Owl demon S/O

You stared at the Imp. The Imp staring right back.

You went to move, try and fix the situation. But before you could make a move, Stella barged past you, nearly toppling you to the ground.

'How fucking dare you!' Stella screached, chasing after the Imp.

Dusting yourself off, you watched as Stella chased the Imp around the clearing, screaming a variety of curses at the Imp.

The Imp, out of space to go, ran into the hedge maze Stella close behind.

You just watched, slowly following after, Already having a good idea what was about to happen.

Stella ran into the hedges, screaming at the Imp.

Running deeper into the maze, Stella's voice gradually got further away.

You stood at the entrance. And as you suspected, the Imp's little head popped out of the hedge, looking the way Stella ran before climbing out of the hedge.

He chuckled to himself, dusting off a few leafs before walking off.

Directly into you.

He looked up at you, an awkward little smile crossing his face. 'Please don't kill me.' He begged before you grabbed him by the horn.

Dragging him off, the Imp pleading for his life, his pleas getting progressively more desperate the further you dragged him.

You dragged him through the maze until you reached the large concrete wall that surrounded the palace grounds.

Tossing him against the wall, the Imp had balled himself up, covering his face.

But after a few moments of nothing happening he looked up, slowly lowering his arms.

'So your... not gonna kill me?' He asked. Clearly confused as to what was happening.

You couldn't help but laugh at his simple nature. 'Kill you?' You asked in mock disbelief 'My good man. After everything you've done for me, I should be shaking your hand!' You proclaimed.

I pulled him to his feet, you dusted off the Imps coat, 'Everything I have, is thanks to you. Something I am very grateful for.' You told him fondly.

Your right hand slid up his shoulder, gripping the side of his neck, 'Unfortunately you've seen me and my love in quite the compromising position. So, I'm gonna need some assurance you won't tell anyone.' I told him, an edge to my voice.

The Imps face morphed into a smirk 'Ah, yes, I got a good eyeful of you and her highness.' The Imp inspected his hands, 'I'd love to help you, really I would, but, uh, why should I?' He asked a coyly.

You let out a long chuckle before wrapping your hand around his throat. 'Don't think just because Im grateful to you, I won't kill you. The only reason I haven't just killed you, is because your still of use to me.'

Releasing his throat, I pulled back, dusting my coat. Before extending my hand. 'Now, I need your word you won't share this information with anyone.' You growled, extending your hand.

Your hand begining to give of the familiar glow of magic.

Blitz hesitated. 'Why should I?' He asked, clearly wanting something out of it.

As if on cue, the silence was broken by Stella's distant screams, a large fire ball firing into the air, showing just how close she was.

Looking back at the Imp I told him 'I could always give you to her, I'm sure she would-' before I could finish he pushed his hand into mine.

The deal was made instantly.

The Imp wavered for a second, before asking 'Wha-what happens now?'

Gripping his shoulder, you told him, 'Now? Now, you leave.'

With that said, you grabbed him by his coat and threw him into the air, clear over the wall.

'Hurry on back now!' You called out, a wrath twang to my voice.

'Wouldn't want Stolas missing his little boy-toy.' You growled as you walked away.

It wasn't hard to find Stella, the yelling had only gotten louder, now accompanied by fire... lots of fire.

When you found her, she was screaming at stolas, the field around her ablaze in purplish flames.

Now, you were quiet content to watch Stella give her "Husband" a verbal thrashing.

But when you saw there daughter, staring down from the second floor window. The poor girl looked in utter distress at her parents fighting.

You moved forward quickly, ignoring the pain as the flames licked your body.

Reaching her, you spun her around, looking her dead in the eyes. You stroked her cheek, telling her you were there for her.

Tears welled in her eyes, the flames around you slowly died down until you were just holding the sobbing woman in a field of Burt grass.

You held her close as she cried into your chest. Holding her close, you looked up, meeting Stolas' gaze as he looked at the two of you.

You couldn't help but Shooting dangers at the prince, he was the cause of this, and you wanted him to know it.

You carefully picked the woman up, carrying her away.

You entered the palace, you locked eyes with Stolas one last time before letting the ghost of a smile spreading across your mouth.

You carried her into the palace, backtracking all the way to her study.

It took some work, but you opened the door, carrying her in, placing her on the large lounge set against the far wall.

Laying her down, you pulled out your handkerchief. Wiping away her tears you asked her gently 'Are you alright?'

Stella just shook her head, rubbing her arm across her eyes. 'No. No Im not' she said, her voice thick with emotion. 'There's no where. Theres nothing I can do, nothing without that Fucking Imp ruining it.'

She broke down into a new fit of tears, pulling you close she clung to you like the world would fall out beneath her.

She sobbed into your chest, crying for what seemed like hours. Releasing all the frustration she had seemed to pent up. You just held her close as she did.

It was as she finally calmed down, that there was a knock on the door. Getting up, you walked over before cautiously opening it.

It was her daughter. And she looked quite concerned.

'You must be Octavia' you told her gently, taking her hand with a small bow. Octavia spoke gently, asking you 'Is my mum alright?'

Not sure how to answer, you moved out of the way, allowing her to enter the room.

Seeing her daughter, Stella quickly wiped her face, cleaning herself up a little before saying to her 'Hello darling.'

Octavia said it back before taking a seat on the couch.

The two shared some gentle words with each other, Octavia seeming very concerned for her, but you could tell your presence was holding her back.

So you gently spoke up. 'I'll go have some tea brought up. Give you two a moment.' Stella gave you a thankful look, Octavia giving you a thoughtful glance before focusing on her mother.

You left the room silently, carefully closing the door behind you. Now in the hallway you went about looking for the help, making your way down the long hallway.

You may have despised Stolas as a man, but you had to admit, his home was quiet amazing.

You eventually found a Butler, from whom you politely asked if he could have some tea sent to Stella's study.

With your task complete you started the arduous task of retracing your steps back to the study.

Making it back, you were surprised to find Stolas outside her door. Walking closer, the demonic Prince turned to you.

'What are you doing with my wife?' He demanded.

Stepping closer you stopped before bringing a finger to your chin 'what ever could you mean, your highness?' You asked smugly.

'I'm not an idiot, so don't act like I am one.' he said a scowl in his voice. 'I know your after my wife and don't even try to play innocent.'

He said it all with such dignity, such honour. It took everything you had not to laugh.

Clearing your throat you took another step closer to him.

'I didn't have to lift a finger, Stolas.' You told him, arrogance creeping into your voice.

'You had everything one could want. Power. Influence. A family.' You took a moment to shake your head. 'You had the most beautiful, most intelligent, most amazing woman in hell.' You gave a long dramatic sigh. 'And you gave it all up, For what? An Imp?'

Walking forward, you placed a hand on his shoulder. 'I don't have to Act like your an idiot Stolas, you've more then proven it. And now, You've given up your claim to your marraige.' Looking him dead in the eyes and told him, 'Its my turn now.'

Before Stolas could respond the tell-tale sound of silverware clinking of a cart being pushed, drew your attention to its source.

Taking a step back, you addressed the maid pushing the cart 'Thank you so much, if only all imps were so brisk' You told her politely, opening the door.

The Imp pushed the cart between the two of you, into the room. I smirked at the Prince, the Imp walked out of the room, right between us.

'Thank you very much', you told the Imp, giving her a bow. The Imp giggled, giving her own little curtsy before scampering off.

You walked past him, entering the room. 'Now if you'll excuse me, I have to care for a dear friend after all the stress her "Husband" has put her through.' You told him, each word lathered in arrogance.

Before he could respond, you shut the door, perhaps a little to loud. But the satisfaction from slamming the door in that pompous gits face was well worth it.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

breaking it down to find a meaning

neighbours au?

this came out of literally no where. I was getting ready for bed and I had "I wanna love somebody" by We Three stuck in my head and then I opened tumbles and this just poured out of me? Yea I literally wrote this in the tumblr post option. no google doc we die like lovers.

I point this out only to say this is defs not edited lmao. I didn't even expect it to be this long it was supposed to a tiny drabble?

please enjoy!

[all images have alt text]

There are exactly three things wrong with Percy's current living situation.

1. He has far too little lounge space for his terribly long body. His shins have hit the coffee table six times today in his attempt to maneuver from sitting on the couch to standing.

2. The spare bedroom is not a good enough sound quality for his guitar or his drum practice. The bathroom is much better. He cannot practice in his bathroom forever, or ever.

3. His neighbour is undeniably, completely distractingly hot.

He hasn't allowed himself to rate the problems in order of most troublesome because he's a little ashamed about which one might take first place.

Since moving in one week ago Percy has had many opportunities to arrange and rearrange every aspect of the tiny two bedroom— or one bedroom and a makeshift studio— apartment until he could walk around it blind. He knows not to step on the third floorboard from the left wall on the way to his bedroom because it creaks unpleasantly and he thinks his downstairs neighbours are going to shove a hot poker through the roof just to brandish the annoying foot that keeps making the noise. He knows that the oven setting has to be juggled just right for it to go on. He knows the curtain railings in the living room are far too thin and brittle— he will have to replace them before the month is out. He knows you have to turn the hot tap in the shower three times and the cold tap four to get the exact perfect temperature. What he doesn't know, however, is his neighbour's name, or the colour of their eyes, or anything about them. All he knows is that they're hot.

But today, bruised shin and all, Percy is determined to introduce himself. If for nothing else but to gauge just how upset they might be when he starts up what his mother used to lovingly call "Melodic Madness".

So far it takes the reign as number one reason he's had to leave his previous living spaces. Mr Chiron from Strawberry Valley, who told the landlord the noise was so loud it made his steel kneecaps rust. Creative, but Percy isn't sure it's feasible. Then there was Minerva from Olive Grove who took one look at him and told the landlord he was a drug dealer, or worse, a drug user. He had raised a brow, couldn't stop his lip from tugging up, liking the way the ring that hugged his bottom lip stretched deliciously. He almost killed her on the spot. He would have laid lillies at her funeral and she would have risen again to throw them away. The last place, a Mr Hedge. Percy was glad to leave him behind. There were baseball bags swinging and yelling almost as loud as he played every time they crossed paths. For his own safety Percy didn't even wait for the man to call the landlord before he wad tucking his drumsticks in his pocket and high tailing it to, here.

Here being Sunset Gardens. Here being in this small apartment that fit him almost perfectly. Here being one knock away from meeting his new neighbour.

Percy wonders, as he looks at the soft cream wood of the door, if he should have worn a turtle neck to hide the snake tattoo wrapping around his throat. Or maybe a button down and a tie, to hide the swirls of ink on his arms. The black t-shirt he has on, a normal longer length to his usual cropped look, is clean and soft from use. He decides it'll have to be good enough because he can't wear button downs all the time. How ever will he afford all the ties that come with the obligation?

Percy knocks on the door.

There's silence behind it. The silence of sleepy world, too cozy-can't move. The silence that doesn't wish to be disturbed.

The door opens.

His neighbour's eyes are blue. Bright blue. Startling blue. Blue enough to make his lungs feel a lack of oxygen. He's reaching for the sky and it's getting harder to breather the higher he gets.

"Hello." Says his neighbour.

Percy is flying closer to the sun than Icarus ever will, ever could.

"Can I help you?"

He needs to stop staring. He needs to say something that doesn't make him look like a gaping angel fish. All starry eyes halos and floundering for relief from the air. Do fish know how beautiful the sky is? He imagines if they did they'd all kill themselves trying to get to it. He's doing it right now.

"Hi," He grins. Teeth white, straight, flossed because his mother forced him to learn the habit. "I'm Percy, your new neighbour."

"Jason," The voice is warm, deep. He knows if he lay his head on that spectacular chest he'll feel every vibration when this blue eyed spectacle talks. It'll be like getting into a really nice car and feeling the seats rumble beneath you.

"How are you finding the apartment?"

They're still standing on his door front. Jason won't relent his sanctuary. Percy won't toe over the line, curiouser and curiouser as he is.

"Good. Living room is causing some bodily harm," He waves to his shin, "But otherwise very good. Cozy."

"We share a wall. I don't know if it's your bedroom and mine or..." His neighbour trails off.

"It's my spare bedroom against you." They both glance to his door, light from his lounge flooding the passage in a perfect parallelogram.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." He's looking into the sky again. Watches as hair falls over that golden forehead. His hands— tattooed "amare" on his left fingers and "amari" on his right— twitch to push it back, to grasp the white strands, to know what light feels like. He tucks them into the pockets of his sweatpants. He tells them behave. The twitch in their hiding place. He doesn't let them seek.

"What about it?" Jason is frowning, in that worried way that says he's used to bad news and he's tired of it too.

"I uh," Percy's eyes flicker around the world. "I play guitar and drums. I'm using that room as my music room."

"Oh." The relief in Jason is a pointed arrow straight at his heart. Even cupid could never shoot something so potent. "That's okay. I'll use your music as inspiration when I paint."

Percy is Icarus three seconds after he believes he can fly. Percy is Patroclus when he feeds Achilles. Percy is Hercules after completing his first trial. Percy is a hero and a warrior and the luckiest person alive. Percy is alive.

"I hope you're good." Jason shrugs as if he hadn't tattooed a permanent place into the underside of Percy's ribcage.

"I hope so too." He manages to say back.

"I'll show you what I can create from you the first time and you can judge." Those blue eyes are so wide with innocence. Not the innocence of life but of words. His neighbour has no idea what he's doing to him. Has no idea that he is about to go home and make song lyrics out of all these declarations.

"I look forward to it." He smiles wide. It's ocean deep with happiness.

There are exactly three things perfect about Percy's current living situation:

1. The kitchen has a gas stove enough counter space for him to make bread and his mother's gumbo

2. His bedroom is big enough for him to fit a king sized bed easily. He is a sprawler when he sleeps and he cannot be happier to sprawl across never ending expanse.

3. His hot neighbour is perfect.

[hopelesshawks]

We already talked about this in dms but like👀 Keigo and a female reader that he thinks is just all cute and shit. But nah she’s actually one of the best dancers in japan and specializes in badass and sexy dances

I went down such a rabbit hole picking out the choreo for this for zero reason 💀💀💀 but man am I here for it. For those curious what I pictured writing this it’s this dance at time code 7:27 choreography is by Jojo Gomez

It’s an 18+ one y’all, minors dni. Warnings for dom/sub dynamics, mention of reader having a vagina, fingering, hand jobs, light edging, light nipple play, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, minor praise kink

“So when are you finally gonna seal the deal with (y/n)?” Mirko asks Hawks one day as they walk their usual patrol route. It’s a quiet day and quiet days always made Mirko more likely to pry. “Seal the deal?” Hawks asks. “Y’know... Do the devil’s tango? Make the beast of two backs? Teach her the birds and the bees?” Mirko teases, wiggling her eyebrows and crowding into his personal space. Hawks rolls his eyes hard and shoves her out of his space, not that it deters her. “It’s not like that,” he tells his nosy friend but she just scoffs in response. “Don’t play like you don’t want to get all up on her, Hawks. You go to that cafe she works at every night after your shift and I’m pretty sure you don’t even like coffee,” Mirko points out. “I like coffee,” Hawks retorts mulishly. “No you don’t.” “Drop it Mirko.” “Oh c’mon! It’ll be easier if you just admit it.” “Fine! She’s adorable, you happy?” Hawks finally huffs, red tinting his cheeks. There’s a beat of silence before Mirko responds but it’s not quite the response Hawks is expecting. “Wait you think (y/n)... is adorable?” Mirko asks. “What do you mean? She is!” Hawks replies defensively. “Relax tough guy, adorable just isn’t the word I’d use to describe her,” Mirko shrugs. “How else would you describe her? She always seems kinda sleepy on her shift and she wears those big oversized sweatshirts,” Hawks elaborates but Mirko continues to look confused by his assessment of you. “Have you never seen her dance before?” Mirko finally asks. “She dances?” Hawks responds.

In Hawks’ personal opinion, Mirko’s reaction is over dramatic. She had stopped in her tracks and stared at him as if he’d sprouted a third head or announced an early retirement. “What?” he asks, even more defensive than before. Mirko heaves a sigh as if Hawks’ ignorance is her greatest source of disappointment. “I forget sometimes you live under a rock, Jesus Christ. We really do need to talk about you getting out more for things other than work and creeping on the sexy dancer barista you have a crush on. Why do you think she’s so tired every shift?” Mirko asks in disbelief. “She’s a student isn’t she? I assumed school stuff!” “You really are hopeless.” “Hey!” “She has rehearsal before her shift dummy, she’s tired from practicing.” “How do you know so much about it huh?” “Well for starters her group has literally won competitions so jot that down. And two we follow each other on Twitter.” “Why do I even ask you things?” Hawks laments. “Shut up, I have an idea,” Mirko suddenly grins. “Oh god, what the fuck are you planning now?” Hawks groans. “I think we should pay (y/n) a little visit during rehearsal, don’t you?”

Hawks follows Mirko through the halls of the university rec center with a growing sense of dread. She looks mischievous and that’s usually a sign that Hawks is going to regret whatever he just signed up for. After they round a final corner, Hawks can clearly hear music coming out of a room down the hall labeled rehearsal room B. Hawks and Mirko push through the door right as the song stops and immediately Hawks realizes that this was a mistake. Gone is your oversized hoodie, instead you’re in just a pair of sweats and a sports bra, covered in sweat and chest still heaving from whatever dance you and the two other girls with you had just done. Hawks should’ve just ignored Mirko and waited to look up one of your dances on YouTube in the privacy of his own apartment. “Hey (y/n)!” Mirko calls out cheerily even as Hawks mentally curses her out for dragging him here. Your gaze snaps over to the two of them and immediately you break out into a wide grin, the same one Hawks had been fawning over as cute and precious for the past several weeks. “What are you two doing here?” you ask as your friends grab water. “We were in the neighborhood and I remember you mentioning you rehearse around this time so I figured why not swing by?” Mirko replies and god does Hawks hate her right now. “You guys have perfect timing actually, we’re working on something to the song ‘Ride’ by Ciara and it would be really great to get an outside opinion on it. Would you guys mind sticking around to check it out? I promise it’ll be quick the other girls have something right after this,” you ask the two pros, giving your best puppy dog eyes. Hawks wants to politely decline, he’s having enough trouble keeping himself in check as it is thank you very much, but before he can Mirko is already agreeing and he doesn’t have the heart to shut things down when you look so excited. “Ah amazing!! Ok! Just sit at the front of the room and be our audience!” you beam and Hawks is helpless but to comply.

Hawks’ eyes trace over every inch of your body as you start the music and then get into the starting formation of the dance. Hawks can tell the moment you’ve focused in on performing your choreography because your whole demeanor and energy shifts. It’s commanding and confident and very, very sexy. He’s starting to understand Mirko’s reaction to his earlier description of you because the woman he sees before him now? Well adorable doesn’t quite fit the bill anymore. He’s already half hard in his work pants, much to his chagrin. What would the tabloids say if they knew he was getting this aroused in public? It’s not exactly befitting of the number two hero considering he’s supposed to be a role model for future generations. But could anyone blame him? The way you move your body and swing your hips is mesmerizing. At one point you slowly roll your body down to grind your hips to the floor and it’s impossible for Hawks not to imagine you using that same precise control to grind down onto his dick. He tries to focus on the music instead in hopes it will help him calm down but it only takes a second for him to realize the song is painting the very same image he’s trying desperately to clear from his head. He’s almost positive Mirko is smirking beside him but he can’t focus on her, you’ve captured the entirety of his attention.

Then the chorus hits and Hawks is really in trouble. You’re singing along. You’re singing “they love the way I ride it” and making direct fucking eye contact with him while you swing your hips in a slow, sensual grind and how can he not react to that? His wings flare and puff out instinctively, his cheeks going red, and his dick is now fully erect and leaking precum into his boxers. It would be mortifying if he weren’t too focused on your every move to truly remember his surroundings. Eventually the song ends and even though Mirko stands to go compliment you and your friends on a job well done, Hawks stays rooted in place. He doesn’t dare move as his painfully hard cock twitches in his pants. Sweat drips down your neck and god he wants to lick it off you so goddamn bad he barely even notices you saying bye to Mirko and your friends until the door is shutting behind them.

Hawks hasn’t even fully registered that the two of you are now alone in the room before he’s coming up behind you and wrapping an arm around your bare torso. You open your mouth to ask what’s up with him when you suddenly feel his erection against your backside. “Tell me you don’t want this or I won’t be able to stop,” he all but growls against the shell of your ear. “What if I do want it though?” you ask breathlessly as you shamelessly grind your ass back against his throbbing dick. The moan that crawls its way out of his throat in response is guttural, he genuinely can’t think of a time he’s ever been more turned on in his life as he wastes no time spinning you around to face him and pressing you up against the wall. “You knew what you were doing didn’t you?” he asks before dropping his nose down to run along your jaw. You shudder as he licks a long stripe up your neck, delighting in the salty taste of your sweat. “Maybe?” you hedge at first but then he bites the column of your throat hard enough you’re sure it’ll leave a mark and you can’t help but whimper. He draws back to look you in the eye, his pupils blown so wide they’ve almost completely consumed his golden irises. “Don’t lie to me little dove,” he warns. “I may have gone a little harder than usual because you were watching me,” you admit and it’s apparently the right answer as Hawks all but chirps his satisfaction before leaning down to press a bruising kiss to your lips that has you melting. One of his hands slides up to grasp and squeeze one of your breasts but even that is not enough for him and in the next moment one of his feathers glides in to swiftly cut your sports bra off entirely. You’re about to protest but the words die in your throat as Hawks starts pinching and twisting one of your nipples. “Does that feel good little dove?” he asks and all you can do is let your head fall back against the wall and nod your approval.

Hawks takes advantage of your head’s position to resume leaving marks on your exposed neck as his free hand snakes its way into your sweatpants and panties. As his fingers finally reach your dripping sex you feel him moan against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You’re so wet for me already,” he notes as he slowly slides a finger inside of you. “Want you, need you,” is all you can keen as he drags his one finger torturously slowly inside of you. “Want me that bad love?” Hawks teases and your answering nod is almost frantic as he inserts another finger and takes careful note of the way you squirm. “Use your words,” he commands. “I want you so bad Hawks please,” you beg but even as he uses his thumb to lightly brush against your sensitive clit he still doesn’t budge. “I don’t know, you were so naughty teasing me so much in front of Mirko and your friends. Do you understand how turned on I was?” he asks but you can only whimper in response. You jerk your hips forward in desperate search of more friction or movement or something but all that accomplishes is Hawks using the hand not currently buried inside you to hold your hips still. “I want you to feel how turned on your little show made me little dove. Can you do that?” he asks. “Y-yes,” you moan before obediently reaching one hand out to feel his hardened length through his pants. God he’s so big, and it only emphasizes to you how much you want him inside you. “Not gonna get much done from there, little dove, don’t be shy. I want you to feel me, feel the cock you’re so fucking desperate for,” he growls, slowly dragging his fingers in and out of you to emphasize his point. It’s so good but it’s not nearly enough so you fumble with the belt and button of his pants until finally, finally you can slip your hand past the waistband and into his boxers to grasp firm hold of his weeping cock.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to find a devastating rhythm, your hands moving in sync to drive both of you towards your respective climaxes. Your moans echo around the small practice room and it’s music to Hawks’ ears. You’re close, so close, right on the precipice of orgasm when suddenly Hawks is leaning in to whisper into your ear a simple command: “Stop.” His hand stops moving and then he slowly extracts his fingers from inside you. You whine at the loss, pussy desperately clenching around nothing but you obediently stop your hand's movement. "Don't look so disappointed, I thought you wanted my dick," Hawks teases. "I do, fuck, I do," you groan. "Be specific. What do you want?" "I want your dick inside me, please Hawks I'm begging, I want it so bad," you whine. What a pretty sight you make squirming and whining for him. Hawks thinks he could watch you like this forever but even he is starting to get impatient so he decides to finally give you what you want. He shoves his own pants and boxers down low enough for his dick to spring out of its confines, the head flushed red and glistening with precum. Meanwhile his feathers push down your own sweatpants and panties as you watch him with half-lidded eyes, eager to finally feel his hardened length inside you. He has you wrap your arms around his shoulders and places his hands on your waist. "Hop up pretty girl," he commands and you eagerly obey, allowing him to lift you and then wrapping your legs around his waist to further support you weight. "Ready?" he asks. "God, yes Hawks please," you groan as he lines himself up with your waiting entrance. Hawks complies with an almost feral grin, wasting no time in shoving himself fully inside you. You groan as his thick length stretches you open but the slight burn feels so good as he fills you up. "You're doing so good for me, baby. So good," he praises and you practically purr your satisfaction. "P-please. Move," you moan and Hawks doesn't need to be told twice as he begins fucking into you in earnest. All words are lost between the two of you, the only language you need being the moans, groans, whimpers, and whines the two of you pull out of each other. As he drills into you harder and harder you rapidly feel yourself once again approaching climax. "Hawks I'm gonna-" you start but he cuts you off. "Me too baby, hold out a little longer and we'll cum together ok?" he ask. "Ok," you whimper, trying so hard to be good for him. Just a few long deep strokes later he finally gives you permission to cum and almost immediately you cry out his name, clenching and squeezing around him as he tumbles into his own climax. His groan is long and low as he spills his seed inside you and you relish each and every moment of it.

As the two of you finally come down from your highs Hawks carefully sets you back down on the ground. "Shit," he swears. "You can say that again," you laugh breathlessly. "Maybe I should invite you to more rehearsals from now on," you joke. "I'd much rather you give me a private show at my place," he replies easily. "I think I can make that work." "Good." "When would you like your first performance?" "How about now? You were just bragging about how much 'they' like it when you ride it. Time to put your money where your mouth is." "I'd like nothing more."

[the-ghost-king]

you have any nico headcanons where he’s ftm trans but then realizes he’s also nonbinary (he/they/she)? just struggling with gender identity lately ig.

Alright, anon, I hope these help you some, my gender has been rather ~~~ lately, if that makes any sense... I would also like to remind everyone to bind safely and if you need resources on how to safely bind without a binder feel free to reach out to me:

Nico always just knew he was a boy, dresses were a no-go, couldn't stand to wear anything that wasn't undeniably boys clothes

In the beginning Maria thought maybe it was just a texture problem, but when Nico was three she came home to see him cutting all of his hair off she knew it was deeper

This is why they ended up moving to America eventually, Maria decided that if they started over then Nico would be able to be himself

Bianca named him on the way over, she liked the name because they were "winning" by leaving Italy

Nothing really signifigant happens in regards to Nico and his gender through this point, he is able to play freely with other boys, and he goes to school with them and such

The same in the Lotus Hotel, nothing signifigant

When he and Bianca go to Westover Nico is kind of scared the whole time, because he is worried about being "caught", changing for afterschool soccer games and having communal shower spaces at the school is difficult for him to feel comfortable

He usually tries to shower late at night or early in the morning when nobody is around, and that works out okay for him

His chest starts developing around this point and he freaks out, he has no clue how to hide it or how to deal with the new stress

He ends up trying to find Bianca one day, and they do all sorts of crazy stuff to see if they can help, eventually they figure out how to use a piece of cloth they sew together

When Nico ends up at camp alone without Bianca, there's the problem once again of communal showers and they're rarely ever empty

This is how he befriends the Stolls

At some point the pair of them notice Nico is weirdly panicky about the bathrooms so they go stand outside and keep people out when Nico's in there... It's honestly how they perfect their pranking techniques

When Nico runs away from camp upset, just the day before his binder had quit fitting and he had been upset by that because he had to make a binder again

Although his sister dying pushed all other thoughts out of his head, the emotions from previous events were still leftover

This is why he buys his jacket TM, because the layers help hide his chest more and the weight is comfortable

At some point during the Labrynth he ends up binding with ace bandages (AN: Don't do this)

He also starts his period at some time around this point and kind of freaks out "oh no" and it's not entirely that his period bothers him, but more so that he just doesn't know how he's supposed to hide it

He also realizes at some point around here that he likes Percy, which makes him feel odd and more freaked out

He's struggling because "boys are supposed to like girls" and also he's struggling because if most boys oon't have periods and he does... why doesn't his bother him?

Despite Nico himself being trans, he doesn't have the vocabulary to describe anything he's going through, and he doesn't know there's other trans people, or even queer people of any sort

So he sort of begins to question "am I really a boy?" but there's so much going on in the world and he's got so much to do, so he can't really devote much time to thinking about it

Everything continues about canonically until he's in the jar after Tartarus

During a fight with a monster or something he was knocked over, and combine this with the fact that Nico was binding with ace bandages, he definitly breaks a rib

Which makes breathing with little air a lot harder

Eventually he's saved and through ambrosia and nectar Nico manages to heal his ribs a little

He isn't able to bind that whole time though, so he does his best to keep away from The Seven

After Cupid outs him to Jason, Jason asks a few days later if he wants to talk about it, at first Nico is like "no go away I don't like you don't talk to me"

But eventually he opens up to Jason, because Jason was like "I'm sorry you had to do that I promise I won’t tell anyone and if you want to talk we can talk"

Anyhow eventually Nico kind of just breaks down and he's like "I don't know if I'm a boy or a girl? I think I used to be a girl, but now I am a boy and I don't really remember how it happened” or something similar

It takes Jason a moment but eventually he’s like “Oh you’re trans?”

And Nico;s like “heh? What’s that?

And so him and Jason talk, but Jason is only kind of well versed in this topic, so he only covers “basic” MtF and FtM transition because he doesn’t really know enough about other genders to feel comfortable explaining it

And Nico’s like “there’s people? Out there?? Like me??” and he’s just Happy Nico ™

Nico is like “and there are people like me who like boys?”

And Jason is like “Yeah totally!” but internally he’s like (I think so??)

Anyhow Nico feels a little better, but he doesn’t feel perfect, he’s still struggling a little bit internally to recognize that there’s other people like him and he’s not wrong for being him

Anyhow, Jason doesn’t know enough about this stuff to know binders exist, Jason just has a little bit of secondhand information from tv shows and from being from California… He promises he’ll look into various things more when he’s back at camp or has decent access to internet

On Nico’s quest with Reyna and Hedge he obvious evaporates Bryce, and Reyna and Hedge find out

They find out he’s gay as in canon, but they realize he’s trans when caking him in mud

Hedge just goes into dad mode about the situation and is like “son”, “sport”, “kiddo”, “my male child” etc

Reyna knows a little more about trans stuff than Jason, but she’s kind of in the same “ehhh I’m not really sure of a few things” boat, but she’s supportive and she’s like “I will beat anyone who gives you a dirty look up so fast”

Eventually they get to camp, and all that happens

Three days in the infirmary happens, and basically Nico has to tell Will for medical reasons that he’s trans because Nico needs stitches or something

Anyhow Will is like “Oh yeah cool me too, can you take your binder off now?”

And Nico is like “heh???”

Anyhow Will finds out Nico is binding with ace bandages and he’s like “no, don’t do that” and then he goes and finds a proper binder in Nico’s size which he gives to him after his stay is up

When they befriend one another they have a short conversation about gender and Will is discussing like gender theory 101 type stuff, and he’s like “wait why dont you know this- oh yeah you’re from the thirties- wait do you even know what nonbinary means??”

And Nico is just staring at Will like he has three heads for the whole conversation

So Will teaches Nico about gender and pronouns, and gender presentation vs gender identity, etc

And so Nico goes “wait so there are people like me who are also gay?”

And Will is like “I like boys and girls and everything in between so yeah”

And the whole enby thing doesn’t really stick with Nico at that point he’s just like “hmm interesting, so testosterone?”

It’s just not his biggest concern, he’s just happy to know there are in fact others like him, and no he’s not crazy for not being dysphoric over his period, and that’s normal too

And he’s just like “oh so that’s top dysphoria?”

And Will is like “yeah :/”

“Oh :/”

“Mhmm :/”

Anyhow they become like good friends and they start dating sort of on accident, like they’re too close to just argue they’re friends anymore, and at some point Will just shows Nico how to give him a T shot and it’s like chill, they’re chill

Anyhow one day someone is kind of confused by Nico’s gender so they use the word “they” and it makes Nico really happy for some reason, so he goes back to Will and he’s like “tell me about this whole nobinary thing again?”

And Will is like “yes absolutely”

And Nico goes “I think I might be nonbinary can we try new pronouns?”

And so they go through all sorts of new pronouns, and Nico decides he still likes he/him but he also likes they/them and xer/xem… They likes she/her too but Nico finds it too uncomfortable sometimes because it reminds him of dysphoria

Nico decides xyr uncomfortable with using she/her but they like using female gendered terms so he does that

(Listen, I know Will saying “this is my boyfriend” was a big moment but Will calling Nico his “wife” is 10/10)

Nico’s friends are all super supportive and they do their best to learn more about gender and such things in order to better support and care for Nico

They all use different pronouns for xem and some people alternate pronouns too, but Nico knows that takes more practice

But it’s just like good and positive in Nico’s life

And he begins to play with fashion a lot and xe finds out xyr love of skirts with tights and combat boots because it’s 10/10 the best fashion

Nico also loves their big jackets and they just looks so comfy all the time everyone is like “I want to be him” and Nico grows their hair out long again, and gets his ears pierced and xe’s just a nonbinary fashion icon

They are just so cool once they figure out gender more and Nico’s just happy to play around with xyr gender and he just enjoys it

Will doesn’t play around with gender so much, he’s 100% a binary trans guy but T helped make him comfortable enough in his femininity to wear skirts a little bit on the occasion (Will in a cat maid dress 10/10), but heels and skinny jeans for some reason are still big dysphoria triggers for him so he does have some limits on what he’ll wear

Will gets top surgery when he’s like 17 because Naomi is an extremely supportive parent

So that’s how Nico meets Will’s mom and she’s like “it’s so nice to finally meet you!” and Naomi just immediately falls in love with xem and Will is like “I know they’re amazing”

And Nico is just really supportive and they sort of role reverse and Nico plays nurse while Will recovers from top surgery and they has to like brush his teeth and stuff

The experience (despite the fact that Will had an easier recovery) assures Nico in how much he wants top surgery, and he’s sad he’ll have to wait another year until he’s 18 to get it done

Anyhow Hades finds out and agrees to sign the wavers, so once Will is healed up enough to wear he can put his own clothes on and stuff, Nico decides to go through with xyrs own top surgery then too

Reyna comes to help Will take care of Nico, and Jason does too

Originally Will was supposed to help more with Nico’s care but he wasn’t able to do as much as he thought so they had to phone their friends

Eventually they both heal up really well and they’re happy to be done with that

Nico spends time debating testosterone, while Will spends time debating lower surgery

During this time Nico starts art school and Will starts medical school

Meeting more nonbinary people makes Nico feel at home and he determines that xe doesn’t want to go on testosterone but it’s still a maybe in the future

Will however decides he does want lower surgery, so Will and Lou Ellen decide to get lower surgery together as friends so they can share in the pain (Lou Ellen is a trans woman as far as I’m concerned this is canon)

Nico takes some time off to do school from home so he can help the two of them, and Naomi comes to live with them as well for a bit

Will and Nico both finish school eventually and they decide to adopt trans kids to help them out more

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy all of that anon! I'm all ideaed (idea-ed??) out and so I hope this is at least similar to what you were looking for, and this is helpful with your dysphoria somewhat <3

[jinjojess]

超高校級の英雄 V3: Danganstuck Classpects V3

Okay, okay. 

Enough waiting around; let’s get this up and ready to go.

These are obviously just my own opinions on things, and as such are very closely tied to my own personal interpretations of both the V3 characters and also of the classpects themselves. For clarity’s sake, I based the aspect rationalizations from the official lore here, and I used the MSPA wiki for direction with the classes.

Just as a quick note, I used some of the FTE info (which is debatable in its veracity) for some of the assignments. Sorry, gotta work with what I have to work with. Also, if anything is expanded on in Homestuck 2, I have no idea, as I haven’t read it (or the epilogues, for that matter).

Akamatsu Kaede Prince(ss) of Time Derse Dreamer The Land of Sharps and Flats

Going off the canon description of Time, it makes perfect sense for Akamatsu. She’s goal-oriented, wants to skip to the credits, and would rather take a leap of faith than wait things out. To say nothing of the strong associations between Time and music. I went with Prince for her as a class since it’s the destroyer class--Akamatsu very literally destroys both Amami and herself (and her goal of getting everyone out alive) thanks to her own impatience in wanting to stop the one responsible for the killing game. I had her sleep on Derse since she’s supposed to be a bit of a protag subversion in that she hatches a literal murder scheme. Her equivalent of the Beat Mesa is a big metronome. 

I also have an alt land name for her in The Land of Ninths and Eighths to reference the time signature of Claire de Lune (which is 9/8). 

Saihara Shuuichi Page of Doom Prospit & Derse Dreamer The Land of Glass and Fingerprints

I considered making Saihara a Rage player at first given how the ultimate conflict is (supposedly going to be) solved in Chapter 6, but the description of Doom players as being commiseraters rather than healers really stuck out to me as appropriate for Saihara. Of all the characters in the game, he’s one of the few that doesn’t actually push anyone to heal, and his ultimate gambit in the 6th trial is to counteract the audience trying to self-medicate with catharsis at their expense. He takes a while to come into his own, which is the signature trait of the Page class, too. As a Doom player, he dreams on both moons, which for reasons I can’t quite articulate just clicks for me. The glass in his land name references not only magnifying glasses but also mirrors, since his is very much a journey of self-reflection.

Amami Rantarou Seer of Breath Prospit Dreamer The Land of Sails and Nail Polish

I really like what I came up with here for Amami. Breath is linked pretty strongly to his FTE reveals about how his desire to explore led his sisters to disappear into the ether (and changed his direction in life), and the angst he feels over wanting to reunite with his sisters hints at his trouble with bonds (the Breath inverse Blood’s territory). I incorporated the boat stuff into the theme with the idea of sailing for his world name, while the nail polish is for his sisters and that extra scene with Akamatsu. I went with Seer as the class since Amami Knows Things, and there’s that bit about Seers “having a strategy guide in their head” that I wanted to be a callback to the special map and the fact that he’s the Shogo Kawada of this operation. Prospit as the dream moon just felt right, so there it is.

Iruma Miu Thief of Space Prospit Dreamer The Land of Caulk and Nuts (and Frogs)

I don’t care if you have to have Frogs somewhere in the Space player’s land name, I will stand by that pun! So Space is all about creation and seeing the bigger picture, and to me that jived with how Iruma is an inventor. While Time is deeply linked to music on a conceptual level, Space is linked to nurturing, including growing plants, raising animals, and parenting. The Space and Motherhood parallels fit well with Iruma’s canon aspirations and goals. I went with Thief because Iruma is very much out for Number One, and wants to hog up all the creation ability for her own ends. Prospit dreamer because she’s the type.

Ouma Kokichi Bard of Heart Derse Dreamer The Land of Kings and Horses

There’s a lot you could do with Ouma, and I’m sure that plenty of people peg him as a Void player because of the lying. For me though, I read Ouma has being primarily concerned with his own identity, and how he’s perceived by others. Fractured senses of self are a Heart concept, after all, and it seems that Ouma likes trying on identities to see which one ultimately fits him best. I made him a Bard because they’re unpredictable and all about helping or hurting a session in random turns, but also because Ouma himself is allowing his own identity to be destroyed thanks to his paranoia and inability to let anyone get close to him. He dreams on Derse with all the other schemers, and I went with a name pun for the planet that can also function as a chess reference (ala his bandana and his 5d chess approach to life).

Kiibo Sylph of Mind Derse Dreamer The Land of Shells and Ghosts

Since Sylphs are healers, I wanted to have Kiibo in that role, since he’s usually trying very hard to smooth things over and fix problems. I went with Mind for him for a few reasons: one is that Kiibo’s self-identity is subsumed by his “inner voice” that later turns out to be audience suggestions, meaning that he’s healing things through the choices of others and doesn’t have as much of a Self as it were. Another reason is because I made Naegi a Mind player and Kiibo is clearly meant to be a bit of a callback to him (up to and including the fact that Naegi very much functions as an audience insert in the first game). I made Kiibo a Derse dreamer because he literally hears the whispers of the audience members telling him what to do. The land name was me having a little fun and poking at his aspect a bit.

Gokuhara Gonta Heir of Light Prospit Dreamer The Land of Pins and Wings

Light is all about knowledge, and Gonta has, while specific, quite a lot of knowledge. He likes learning, and is open to new information to re-evaluate what he knows. I made him an Heir since the speculation is that they are subsumed in their aspect, and Gonta is very passively knowledgable. He often offers helpful suggestions based on things he just happens to know, for instance, and what ultimately undoes him is Ouma showing him the “truth” of things, which Gonta doesn’t even think to question. He’s a Prospit dreamer who’s been awake for awhile, unwittingly watching the clouds for signs, and his land name is a reference to pinning butterflies into a collection.

Shinguuji Korekiyo Mage of Light Derse Dreamer The Land of Scrolls and Masks

Meanwhile, on the other end of knowledge for knowledge’s sake, we have the other scholar, Shinguuji. Unlike Gonta, he’s actively out there seeking knowledge, rather than being drawn to it, and his motives are undeniably selfish in nature, so I wanted him to be an active class (I’m assuming Mage is the active counterpart to Seer, shhh). Shinguuji uses his understanding of his field--humans--to progress his own goals and wants. He’s also smart enough to know what pieces of information to share and which to keep hidden behind a convenient zipper. Made him Derse because shemey as all hell, and I went with some general imagery for folklore for the land name.

Chabashira Tenko Knight of Breath Prospit Dreamer The Land of Sweat and Flipping

I think we can all agree that Chabashira is probably not a Derse dreamer. Meanwhile, I chose her aspect for a couple of reasons: first, because aikido is generally about evading attacks which strikes me as a windy kinda deal, even if Neo Aikido is a bit different; second, because her central conflict in the game is about learning to let go of a bond she desperately wants to forge with Yumeno (which, again, is a Blood-related matter); and third, because flipping somebody would create a gust of air movement and that image made me laugh. I went with Knight for Chabashira, since the most common interpretation of Knight is that it exploits its aspect, and I think that Chabashira is able to exploit the various currents of influence (especially in Chapter 3) to great success. I also think that she exploits The Breeze to nudge Yumeno’s path out of danger by taking her place in the kagonoko ritual. The land name is the sweat of training in martial arts, and the flipping is not just about said martial arts, but also about being flung off a see-saw.

Toujou Kirumi Knight of Life Derse Dreamer The Land of Sticks and Carrots

Life players are generally known to be trying to fix everybody’s problems, whether they want that to happen or not, and if that doesn’t scream Toujou to you, I don’t know what will. I went with Knight again for the exploitation aspect of it, where Toujou uses her position as authority in the group to further what she believes to be the greater good (hedging my bets here since we don’t know if Knight is active or passive). She’s clearly a Derse dreamer, because even if she wasn’t schemey, she’s droll as fuck. Her land references the two main ways to motivate someone: threats and rewards.

Harukawa Maki Knight of Time Prospit Dreamer The Land of Beans and Demons

I know, I know, but really, if you think about it, HaruMaki and Dave do kind of have a lot in common (and not just the fact that they have red eyes). The part about Time that fits well to me is that a Time player’s life is marked by strife and struggle, which HaruMaki has in spades. Like Akamatsu, she’s impatient and often acts rashly, in an attempt to cut out the middle man or advance what she thinks should be happening. She’s the last of our Knight squad, exploiting Time (or more broadly, destruction/entropy) to try and help out, such as trying to off Ouma or attack the Exisals head on. There’s also a bit on the Wiki that’s speculated that Knights often try to conceal their insecurities by acting tough, which is HaruMaki’s M.O. While she doesn’t have the music theme, assassination is very much about timing. I had her dream on Prospit because she’s not really a plans person, deep down, and her land name is a joke about her name/birthday referencing Setsubun.

HaruMaki doesn’t have a Beat Mesa equivalent, but she does have a tool specifically for causing a Scratch: a huge, unwieldy kantana.

Hoshi Ryouma Prince of Blood Prospit Dreamer The Land of Grass and Clay

Here you go, anon, what you were waiting for. I personally peg Hoshi as a Blood player, through and through. He’s stubborn, values bonds with other people, can lead via inspiration rather than direct command, and feels grounded. I think he’s a Prince thanks to the fact that he ended up destroying the very people who meant so much to him, and in the aftermath continued to push people away and pre-emptively destroy any possible future bonds. He’s a Prospit dreamer because he can see flashes of the future, though he often doesn’t read them correctly. His land is a reference to different types of tennis courts.

Momota Kaito Rouge of Hope Prospit Dreamer The Land of Wishes and Stars

The key part of a Hope player is that they can dream up a better world than the one that exists, and that can definitely be said about Momota. Like Jake, he’s a bit in his own head and immersed in his fantasy version of reality, where he plays the hero and is able to save everyone else. He’s somewhat gullible, to a point, and he’s the most superstitious of the bunch, showing how much stock he can put into the thing he believes. The sheer power of Momota’s belief is infectious, hence why I made him a Rogue--he’s out there trying to impart his sense of belief into those around him, for everyone’s benefit. He dreams on Prospit because of course he does, and I made his land name reflect literal space in conjunction with his talent, and to riff on that inspirational poster about shooting for the moon and landing among the stars.

Yumeno Himiko Heir of Doom Prospit & Derse Dreamer The Land of Death and Magic

While most people who played V3 picked up on Saihara being depressed, not everyone has noticed that Yumeno also suffers from the same bleak view of the world. Similarly to Saihara, Yumeno is not a healer, or a doer. She’s here to sigh and complain and tell you that’s rough, buddy. Because of that, I can definitely see her as a Doom player. I made her an Heir, as one who is consumed by their aspect, since Yumeno is very much doom and gloom a lot of the time. She’s also subconsciously drawn to death, as she gets close to both Angie and Chabashira before their untimely demises. It’s through their deaths that she comes more into her own, hence why it’s also part of her land title (I don’t think I have to explain the other part). She dreams on both moons because Doom players are implied to do so.

Yonaga Angie Witch of Hope Derse Dreamer The Land of Prayer and Idols

Like Momota, Angie has intense faith on her side; if Angie thinks it’s true, it’s true. She’s also similarly not looking at the same world as everyone else, instead seeing something slightly different and colored by her own beliefs. However, unlike Momota, Angie is not interested in helping others find their own faith, and would rather use the power of her belief for her own gain. Hence why I made her a Witch, an active class that manipulates its aspect. The other characters may not believe in Angie’s religion, but they sure do believe her when she tells them to sacrifice their autonomy for safety. I put her on Derse since her god could very easily just be a specific horrorterror, and the land name is connected to religion. 

Shirogane Tsumugi Maid of Void Derse Dreamer The Land of Scripts and Swatches

I went through a lot of possible Classpects for Shirogane, including Light, Space, Seer, Heart, etc., but I think that this is what I’m going to settle on. Derse Dreamer because not only is she schemey, she’s listening to whispers of her bosses and the ratings, albeit in a less direct sense than Kiibo (what’s more horrorterror-y than a focus group!). Void as an aspect works well to me, since Shirogane is always going on and on about being plain and forgettable, about how she hides in plain sight, and even her talent is about becoming somebody else rather than herself. She’s also the one who in the end throws the “truth” into question, instead concealing it in favor of ambiguity. I went with Maid since one of the speculated interpretations is one who creates or creates through their aspect: she not only (arguably) erases the casts’ identities and memories, she does this in order to have “blank pages” on which to write the killing game’s drama. Whether Maid is an active or passive class is unknown, but if it’s active it makes sense since she’s using other people for her own gain, and if it’s passive, it could be argued that she’s doing it in service of Team DR or the audience.

Speaking of...

Bonus!

The V3 audience Muse of Space The Land Beyond the 4th Wall

I don’t like assigning Master Classes unless I have a really good reason, and here I think it works. The fans are the epitome of the “wait-and-see” model, and their crime as it were is their general apathy toward the very real subjects of the killing game. They’re all big picture and no important details or nuance. You can’t get much more passive than being an audience member, hence Muse class, yet it’s their desire to recycle the series over and over that leads to the killing game’s very existence (they’re also not too upset about letting the kids’ past lives be sacrificed for this act of creation). The V3 audience is collectively in the real world as opposed to the Medium, hence the “planet” title for them. In the context of an actual Sburb game, they’d likely be Exiles.

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

Yeah, no Rage players in V3. I couldn’t find my notes the other night when I got home, so I just went ahead and reworked all of the classpects from there.

The Aspects were fairly easy to assign, but the Classes really had me scratching my head for a good long while. Maybe it’s because it can recontextualize the Aspect elements depending on what it is, or maybe it’s because we don’t have as much information about how Classes work. 

Anyway, whew, that’s it! Hope you enjoyed!

[theplumsoldier]

fear he who fears nothing

prologue summary: as a public figure living in modern germany, you would have thought your past was just that, just a past, but now, it has come back to haunt you and pushes you into the clutches of one baron zemo, while making you acquainted with the american heroes, falcon and the winter soldier.

series warnings: vulgar language: cursing; explicit scenes: mentions of blood, explosions, shootings, torture, injuries; a wannabe’s pathetic try at german; hinting at sexual themes.

a/n: little german is used in this but enough that i felt the need to add translations. translations will be marked as italic and are hedged in between “<>”. note i am not familiar with the languages colloquialisms so if you notice something wrong with my translations, you are most welcome to message me!  this is the prologue to my series “fear he who fears nothing”. it will kick of in the next year in will be no longer than around six to seven parts. i haven’t figured it all out yet, but im working it out and updating along the way!

The two men, the ones whose identities later would be divulged and state to be an age-old relic and a national hero on the lam, did not at all fit into the club. It was always dark inside the White Lady, however the blinding lights – which one would not be wrong in their observation, should they deter them prone to trigger epileptic seizures – could not hide the two most rigid gents standing tall in the midst of the dance floor. You can ask why one, who does not dance, would stand on the dancefloor, however, your words would be in vain and your time lost, for Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes do not have time for anyone who is not Baron Zemo—

Who in this very second was in full swing of a Super Smash Bros match, using your club for arena.

The White Lady was a luxurious club, everyone in Germany was well aware of that. A place for important people and all who frequented the state of the art club knew the person next to, too, spent money like water. It was not a space for gang violence and illegalities, so when security had let them distract for just long enough, politicians and business owners, men and women of wealth ran around, much portraying the image which comes to mind when one would think of a fox entering a henhouse.

Panicking, people ran about like headless chickens, not for the exit, per say; for when in shock, instinct conquers rationality, sprinting and pushing their peers as if their lives depended on it. In a way it did, but in a club of important Europeans, they were not the target. Should they injure tonight, it would merely be in the result of the live American action movie-like fight which had now taken to the balcony lounge.

It took a rough shove to the back to send you back to the current state of affairs. It dawned on you now you would have to act, howbeit you had yet to figure out in which way.

Ushering past the frantic dancers that previously had revelled, you went pretty much unnoticed up the stairs. Pretty much unnoticed surpassing entirely unnoticed due your loyal bodyguard.

You quelled the urge to scream at the fighters when two of them pretty much shot through the air, hurling through at least 30k worth of ceiling lights.

They were the ones you had heard of multiple times through the years now: They were the “good guys”, from America. Albeit as they impoverished you, ruining 10 years of blood and sweat, before your very eyes, they were far from the good guys. Having pushed through what you had over the years, it now became clear if anybody was going to push you to your knees it had better be in another setting, with a whole other mood–preferably with some Frank Ocean in the background.

“Na los, komm schon!” Lina called, shoving you back down the stairs to get you out of danger. Your safety was her priority and so she updated security of your location via her Bluetooth earpiece. <Let’s go, come on!>

You were halfway down the stairs when the sound of an explosion went off. It was impossible to tell where it came from, but the next thing you knew was shattered glass raining from the ceiling. A group of red lights had severed from the ceiling and judging by the panic-stricken cries people were hurt.

The lights were suddenly killed, the whole club jet black for seconds until the standby generator switched on. You used this to your advantage, and scurried past Lina. You knew she only acted in your best interest, however your moral compass did not allow this terrorist to destroy your club.

When the lights turned on, the whole place lit up in a hideous yellow light, the kind you will find makes life difficult for drug addicts. This allowed you to properly see the damage done. It made you angry, seeing all these people suffer in your club; foreigners using your territory as playground.

“YN!”

“Schafft sie hier raus! Ich werde dafür sorgen, dass es hier oben kein Versteck gibt! Die Polizei soll Krankenwägen schicken, die Türsteher sollen die Umgebung sichern! Bin gleich draußen!” Lina protested, stepping up the staircase but you were adamant, and if Lina had learned one thing in her many years of her current position, it was that you were stubborn and steadfast as hell. “Ich komme schon klar, kümmern Sie sich um die Kunden!” <Get them out of here! I’m going to make sure there’s no hiding up here! Contact the police and have them send ambulances, have the bouncers secure the perimeter! Be right out!” > <I’ll be fine, tend to the customers!>

With that you sprinted down the hall to your office, punching in the code to unlock the door. At least your safe space was still intact. For now.

Getting the gun from the classic secret-safe-behind-the-wall-painting spot, you swiftly checked the chamber for rounds at full tilt. Finding only five bullets, clicked it back in place and took a second to exhale. Inhale, exhale.

Checking the chamber was about as nifty as your skills – if one could even call it that – got, so let’s just say it was going to be fun carrying out your little idea, threatening them.

You made sure to only hit the floor – it had to be replaced anyway – when shooting, and if a couple of toes would suffer your not-at-all refined skills, so be it–better that than accidentally killing one of these buffoons because you were not about to have a death on your conscience.

That got their attention.

“Y’all better get the fuck out of my club now!”

Shooting pretty much fuelled your wrath, but a fuming woman with a gun in her hand was something to fear, and you wholeheartedly trusted these idiots knew that.

“Ma’am, you should get—”

“Shut up!” seethed you, jaw clenched as much as the index finger you kept hovering over the trigger. “Now!”

You had lost sight of the bird-man. You hoped he had the decency to have grabbed a broom by now, cleaning up what chaos he so ignorantly had commenced with his little cyborg friend.

“Ah, Miss YN,” charmed Helmut Zemo then, not letting down his guard to the soldier not far from him, but he allowed himself to send you a duplicitous smile, evidently having convinced himself that this was a friendly visit.

But you had two bullets left and one hell of a grudge against this one.

“I was hoping to find you here,” spoke he, he thick-laced accent ringing through the room with an aftertaste of a memory of someone you once knew. “Perhaps we could have a little... Chit-chat, hm? Put down the gun, will you?”

“Du Hurensohn!” swore you and grit your teeth. “There are other ways to reach out to a person than destroying their livelihood!”

“Well, I had to get your attention, you understand—”

“Yeah, you got it alright! Now get the hell out of my club before I blow out your brains!”

That is if there are any left, you thought, waving the gun towards the exit. God, you hoped the police had the place surrounded.

Sirens sounded from the street, and the Winter Soldier took the opportunity – Zemo being distracted with you – to charge at him, attacking him with a knife. Zemo noticed the change in your expression, and thwarted the attempt.

You did not noticed the man coming up from behind you before he had you in a neck lock, pulling you away from the balcony railing. Screaming, you pulled the trigger, trying to twist your arm around, while out of his reach, and shoot him blindly. To no avail, however. The sound of the shots must have been what ushered the police through the doors, yelling and firing warning shots to stop the whole affair.

You could not be sure, though, for while you struggled for air, clawing at the assailant’s muscular arm, you vision veiled in black and the last thing you felt before drifting off, was a heaviness taking you to sleep.

[athenasbloodyspear]

Say Something to Stop Me: Chapter 9

Writing Master List | Say Something to Stop Me Master List

(There’s a double asterisk ** at one point in the story, I recommend playing the song I mention “Every Step You Take” by The Police as you read if that’s your thing! It’s what I wrote the rest of the scene to and I think it just makes it feel like a movie.)

Dr. Cho did end up having to put a few stitches in Bucky’s eyebrow and it turns out he was hiding some nasty bruises under his shirt. He looked like he’d gone through a meat tenderizer. The bullet proof vest he wore kept most of the shots from being fatal, but the smattering of bullet shaped bruises on his chest nearly tore you in two.

You sat in a chair across the room and watched as Helen finished his stitches and felt around on his chest for any broken ribs or potential internal bleeding. You found yourself just staring at him while they ran various diagnostics. He was definitely worse for wear, but he was so unbelievably beautiful that you felt your heart squeeze in your chest.

It was funny, this dynamic between you two. A push and pull that you hadn’t experienced before. It was like when you worked together on missions. When one of you moved, the other adjusted to fill the space you had left. When he had needed your calming touch and level head, you’d been able to provide it for him.

It struck you then, how long you’d been living in a relationship that was only push, no pull. You’d let someone dictate your emotions, your reactions and responses to nearly everything. You had shoved yourself into a box for him, trying to fit exactly how he wanted you.

Bucky let you be exactly how you needed to be in each moment. He stepped in to fill holes and support you where you needed it, but stepped away and let you go when he knew you could stand on your own.

He trusted you.

You trusted him.

You loved him.

After they’d finished, Tony told him to get his ass cleaned up and to bed.

“And I mean sleep Barnes. If you rip those stitches because you can’t keep your hands off her, I won’t let anyone come close them and you’ll have to restitch them yourself.”  

You let Bucky rest most of his weight on you as you helped get him back to his room. At this point you knew that there was no risk of Bucky ripping those stitches. He needed sleep badly.

You assisted as he peeled his bloodied pants and boots from his body, then held under his arms as he slowly lowered himself into the bath, being careful to keep his right arm above water. Everytime he winced in pain you felt a sting in your own chest.

He’d be fine, you knew. He healed abnormally fast. That didn’t make the moments of his pain hurt any less to watch.

After he’d finally lowered himself into the steaming water, you’d told him to lay back and relax while you rinsed and lathered his hair and scrubbed at his neck and chest to remove the layers of sweat and dried blood. Then you’d gotten him dried off and dressed in pajamas before helping him curl up in his bed.

He was asleep before you could even pull the covers up to tuck him in.

~0~

The next few weeks passed quietly. Sam was mostly bed ridden, so you and Bucky spent a lot of time in his room generally bothering him and making him wish he could heal faster just so he could get away from you both and your endless supplies of one-liners.

One night, you both helped him make the long trip to the common area under the guise of a change in scenery. Really, Peter wanted to keep watching the Fast and Furious movies and making Sam watch his least favorite movies when he didn’t have the ability to leave on his own was hilarious.

Were you terrible people? Maybe.

Sam did admit he would have done the same thing if given the chance.

Pretty much everyone joined in. Steve had helped Nat up from her room. She was in much better shape than Sam and was pretty much 100%, but Steve stayed close to her most days claiming that just because she seemed better didn’t mean something couldn’t happen to her.

Wanda and Vision came to watch the movies as well, which ended up being the best part of the experience. Vision kept pointing out the flawed logic in many of the action scenes and Wanda kept trying to patiently explain to him that the movies weren’t intended to be logical. Vision's distress nearly made Peter pee his pants laughing.

When you were taking a snack break between Fast Five and the 6th installment, Tony wandered into the kitchen slowly. Looking at his hands.

“Hey kid. Can you come chat over here a second.”

“Uh. Sure Tony.”

You stood from the couch, having to untangled yourself from Bucky’s hold, and sauntered to the kitchen island.

“How you feeling, kid?” Tony asked.

“Fine…” You murmured. “What’s going on?”

“Uh. Nothing major. Just trying to gauge how you’re doing emotionally before I say what I have to say.” Tony was looking at pretty much anywhere but you, fiddling with spoons and forks that were on the counter.

“Out with it Tony.”

“Uh…” Tony hedged. “Well I just want you to know that Elijah…” He trails off.

Saying his name is enough for everyone in the room to suddenly quiet and look in your direction.

“Just say it Tony. I’m fine. What about him?”

Bucky gets up from the couch and takes a few steps toward you before stopping a few feet from the two of you. The rest of the group stays where they’re seated, staring.

“Elijah’s dead.” Tony finally finishes.

It takes a moment to fully process that thought. You really hadn’t been prepared to hear anything about him today, let alone that he was dead.

“He’s what?” You whisper.

“I’ve had an agent tailing him since that day in Brooklyn.” Tony says softly. “I just got word that he’s dead.”

You whip your head up to look at Bucky.

“I swear to god it wasn’t me.” Bucky says, holding his hands up in surrender. “But when I do find out who it was, I will probably give them a kiss on the mouth.”

You grab a wooden spoon off the counter and whip it at Bucky’s head. Bucky ducks easily and Steve reaches up and grabs it out of the air behind Bucky before it can smack into the glass wall behind him. You also let out a small chuckle. You can’t help it.

“I’m thinking you won’t want to, Barnes.” Tony remarks. “Considering the cause of death was the dumbass getting himself good and drunk and wrapping his fancy sports car around a tree. So unless you’d like to kiss the man's corpse, you’re shit out of luck.”

Bucky huffed and crossed his arms, rolling his eyes at Tony.

You sat down abruptly at a stool at the kitchen island. Bucky took a few quick steps toward you and laid a hand on your back.

“Sweetheart, are you…?”

“I’m fine.” You whisper. “I’m fine.”

And you were, you realized. You basically felt nothing. Of course, you felt some twinge of sadness at someone you had spent so many years of your life with dying in a horrific car accident.

But you felt fine really. No shortness of breath, no panic at the thought of him. You were clear headed and calm.

There was no threat of the sea of emotions lapping at your heels. You didn’t feel like you were about to drown.

“I’m fine.” You murmured again. Looking up at Bucky. “I’m fine, Bucky. Does that make me a monster?”

Bucky stepped in to you then and wrapped you in a warm hug, kissing the crown of your head. “No. It does not make you a monster sweetheart.”

“So. Not to bring up a touchy subject or anything…” Sam piped up from his spot where you and Bucky had propped him on the couch. “But, this man was your fiance, no?”

“Yes.” You murmur back. Bucky’s arms tensed a bit around you, you felt his head shift and you assumed he was leveling Sam with a death glare.

“And, we’re totally fine with him being dead? Like don’t get me wrong, I’m on your side no matter what I just feel like I’m missing something.”

“Sam, she doesn’t have to…” Bucky started.

“No, Buck. It’s okay.” You said, placing a palm on his chest and giving him a little push so you could turn to look at Sam and the rest of your family in the living room.

“Yes. He was my fiance. I knew him for most of my life. I kept him a secret from you all because he hated SHIELD and all of you. He hated that I worked here.” You started. Bucky was watching you carefully, with a hand placed on your back. He seemed poised for attack, like if there was any indication that your heart rate picked up or you lost your breath he would snag you in his arms and run out of there like a bomb was going off.

You loved him.

But it was time for your family to know.

“We ended things when I got back from Budapest. He was abusive, to say the least, and manipulative. I was angry at myself for letting it get that far which was why I isolated myself from you all for so long.” You sighed and offered your family a small smile. “But, I’m feeling more like myself again.” You looked at Sam then. “So, no. We don’t really care that he’s gone, beyond normal human discomfort with death. Even if that makes me a little evil, I kind of don’t care.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then Sam spoke. “Well good riddance then.”

Nat spoke up next. “I am a little disappointed you didn’t take a crack at him Barnes.”

“Trust me I wanted to.” Bucky chuckled. “But my priorities were elsewhere.” He snuck a look at you with a little smile.

“Thank you for telling us.” Wanda said softly. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know. But you’re my family.”

Steve stood up then from his spot across the room and crossed to you. He wrapped you up in a big hug. The next thing you knew, Bucky, Nat, Wanda, Peter and even Vision were joining in. You teared up a bit standing in the center of all of them.

“Get in here Tony.” Steve muttered.

“Sorry pal, I don’t do group hugs.” Tony quipped from where he leaned against the kitchen island.

You peeked through the holes between arms and saw Sam sitting on the couch smiling at all of you. You pouted a bit as you looked at him, offering your apologies that he was stuck on the couch.

“I’m there in spirit, gorgeous.” Sam smiled at you. “When I can stand on my own I’ll give you a better hug than any of these assholes could dream of.”

You giggled then. The whole group devolved into arguments on who gave the best hugs.

Right as Nat and Steve were going toe to toe (arguing vehemently that the other gave the best hug) Tony spoke up. “What do you all say we go to the bar down the road and celebrate?”

“Celebrate?” You chuckled.

“Yeah kid. I think it’s about time we let loose as a family. I’ll give Sam the bottom half of a suit or something so he can walk on his own in the bar.”

“You mean to tell me these past few weeks I could have just borrowed a suit? What kind of sick bastard are you?” Sam yells incredulously from across the room.

“Don’t push your luck birdboy.” Tony looks at you again. “What do you say? Fancy a night out with your family?”

You couldn’t think if anything you’d love more. “Hell yes.”

~0~

You all piled into various vehicles at the compound and made the short trek down the road to the bar. (Not before Sam finally gave you a big hug. He wasn’t kidding, he was a really incredible hugger.)

You all made quite a scene rolling up as a unit and pushing a bunch of tables together. Luckily, most of the patrons at the bar seemed to be wise enough not to cause a scene with the entire Avengers team in one spot.

You sat and marveled briefly at everyone laughing and drinking and enjoying themselves. It was still amazing to you that all of these people, who had seen so much and suffered so much could be together here now, laughing and joking with each other.

You were proud to be one of them.

Peter was slinging spitballs through straws in Sam’s direction which Sam was artfully trying to dodge, his iron legs supporting him now. Tony, Steve and Bucky were sniping back and forth at each other. Vision and Wanda had gotten up from the table to dance to the songs playing on the jukebox.

“Hey hot stuff.” Nat said, dropping down next to you at the table. “Whatcha thinking about all quiet over here?”

“Just amazed I’m here, is all. It’s everything I always wanted, but really didn’t think I could ever have.”

“I know what you mean.” Nat said softly. “I didn’t know if I’d ever really have a family like this. I didn’t think I could.”

“I tried so hard to make it work with Elijah, nearly destroying myself in the process, because I wanted to belong somewhere. For somewhere to be home.” You muttered.

“I know.” Nat said. “Seems silly now doesn’t it? I fought for years against belonging here. It scared the hell out of me. Still does most days, especially when one of you gets hauled through those doors all messed up. Emotionally or physically.” She looks at you pointedly then. “But I’ve learned I’d rather be terrified of losing you all than never having you, you know?”

“Totally.”

You both sit in silence for a bit, sipping on your beers and just taking in the scene. Just then, “I Ran” by A Flock of Seagulls came on and you bubbled up with laughter.

“What’s that giggle for?” Nat asked.

“Nothing. I just got an idea.” You drained your beer and stood up from the table you were sitting at. “Hey, can you turn it up?” You sent the bartender a smile. He nodded and spun to turn the volume up in the bar. “Wanna join?” You tossed over your shoulder at Nat as you placed your hands on the bar and hopped up. You started moving your hips to the music, the same way you did a year ago in Budapest.

Nat glanced over to where Bucky was still mostly oblivious to you standing on the bar, his back facing you as he talked to Steve and Tony. “Hell yeah I do.”

Nat hopped up on the bar with you and sidled close to you, moving her hips with yours.

Wanda saw you and quickly hopped up on the bar. A few other women in the bar looked up and watched, and you three waved them over to have them join. The bartenders quickly moved the glasses on the bar out of the way so you all had a clear space to dance.

There were a few whoops and hollers from some of the men sitting at the bar on the other end, and you spun, ignoring your real prey and sending flirtatious smiles and giggles toward the men down the bar.

The attention of the other men finally got the attention that you had been looking for in the first place.

Steve’s head popped up from their conversation and his eyes widened at the sight before him. You, Nat and Wanda dancing tightly together, hands in the air. Without tearing his eyes from you he quickly punched Bucky in the shoulder. You could tell Bucky had probably asked what the hell Steve’s problem was when Steve just pointed in your direction. Bucky turned slowly to look.

You weren’t looking directly at him, you were still making eyes at the guys down the bar, but from your peripheral vision you saw his jaw drop open before he quickly shut it, grinding down on his jaw. He leaned back against the table, resting his elbows on the surface and spreading his legs out to assume an arrogant laid back stance. Clearly intent on enjoying your show.

It took every ounce of will not to hop down off the bar and climb him like a tree.

As the bridge of the song sped up and the electric guitar started shredding Nat, Wanda and you really turned it on. You saw Steve put his face in his hands as he released a long groan. Bucky just leveled you with an arrogant smirk. As the final tones of the song played you finally looked fully at Bucky, giving him a haughty smile as if to say What? I’m not doing anything.

Bucky just rolled his eyes at you as the song ended and the first notes of “Every Breath You Take” by the Police started**.

It was just like that first night in Budapest. You, up on a bar dancing, and Bucky staring at you from his place at the table, a dark heated look in his eyes.

Except this time, it would end differently.

Bucky stood up abruptly from the table and stalked toward you. Nat and Wanda took that as their cue to step away and off the bar, leaving you standing there alone. When Bucky reached the bar he wrapped his hands around your waist.

“C’mon babygirl. Let’s go home.” He chuckled as he lifted you up off the bar. As he stepped back he started to lower you down from where you towered over him. You slid down the front of his body as he set you back to your feet. Once you were safely on the ground, he kept his hands on your waist as you looked up at him. You smirked at him and batted your eyelashes innocently. He groaned low in his throat and leaned down so his mouth was even with your ear. “You’re killin me sweetheart.” He rose back up to his full height and looked down at you. His eyes raked over your whole body and you flushed and bit down on the corner of your bottom lip. “Fucking hell.” He growled.

He picked you up, tossed you over his shoulder and made a beeline for the door. You squealed.

He snagged your coats off the back of his chair as you passed the table that everyone was sitting at.

“Got someplace to be, Barnes?” Natasha crooned as Bucky rushed past where she now sat next to Steve.

You blushed and giggled, waving to everyone from your place on Bucky’s shoulder as he continued out the door, not slowing down for anything.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind you he dropped you back on your feet and roughly grabbed both sides of your head, crashing his lips against yours. You pressed your body against his, your hands grabbing two fistfuls of his t-shirt and yanking. You wanted him closer.

He finally ripped his mouth from yours and stared down at you as his chest rose and fell rapidly, he was as out of breath as you were. “I love you.” He breathed.

You didn’t answer him. He knew.

You just launched yourself into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and your hands tangling in the ends of his hair when it curled against the back of his neck. You dragged his lips back to yours. His hands caught you around the waist, his metal arm lowering down to hold you under your hips and keep you from slipping.He started to walk you backwards toward where his bike was parked across the parking lot.

You devoured him, nipping at his bottom lip and running your hands through his hair. You had one hand gripping the back of his neck to keep him from moving too far away from you.

Suddenly you heard a voice call out from near the door of the bar. Sam, standing on his own with a pair of iron legs assisting. “Fucking nasty. Get a room!”

You heard the chorus of chuckles from your friends, your family, as they all spilled out the door of the bar.

Bucky pulled his head back just enough so that there was enough space between you that he could yell back “Trying to!” before smashing your lips back to his.

Once he reached his bike, he set you down before quickly mounting the bike and hitting the kickstand. As soon as he was stable you giggled and jumped on the back, wrapping yourself around him and burying your face into his neck.

He revved the engine twice, yelled “hold on” over his shoulder and took off.

You lifted your head to look at everyone as Bucky ripped out of the parking lot. A huge grin on your face, you lifted a hand to wave at your family. You could just make out the sound of Nat yelling “See you at home!” At the same time that Sam yelled “I’m gonna need a different floor to sleep on tonight.”

You giggled again and faced forward in the seat, squeezing Bucky again as he turned onto the asphalt and hit the gas.

You hurtled down the road toward the compound.

As you were flying down the asphalt you decided that you were going to finally just start living without fear that someone was going to take it away from you. The fresh air was pelting your face and it was so strong it wiped away any doubt. It wiped away the thought that you didn’t deserve to have moments like this.

You wanted to feel it all. The pain of the whipping wind, the sting of the air on your eyes, the smell of gasoline in your nose.

You wanted to feel every moment you could with Bucky. The good, the bad and the boring. You wanted to spend time with your family and be there for every moment in their lives and never miss a month with them again.

You wanted to be totally free.

You started to peel your arms away from Bucky’s chest. One of his hands left the handlebars and he grabbed your wrist.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I wanna feel the wind!” You yelled back. “I wanna feel everything, Bucky.”

He paused only a second before patting your wrist twice, and dropping his hand to your thigh to hold on to you. You squeezed your legs together, gripping him tighter as you released your hands from his waist, slowly lifting them so that they were above your head.

Your hair was flying wildly around your head and the only things you could hear were the sound of the engine and the wind. It was the most amazing feeling in the whole world.

You let out a loud whoop as you just let yourself go, laughing at how absolutely wonderful it was to just feel.

Against your chest you could feel Bucky’s back rumble as he laughed with you. He squeezed your knee once, put his hand back on the handlebars and pushed the bike a little faster.

You wanted this forever.

Just you, your man and the wind.

@vicmc624

@austynparksandpizza

[liannyeong]

Crimson (Chapter 3)

Summary: Jaebeom tours Yujin around the mansion, and the start of the wedding preparations.

Word count: 2463

Pairing: Jaebeom X OC

Warning(s): None

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

A/N: Phew! Managed to get this done in time! And it’s a longer chapter too :D Do support my works by buying me a coffee! Follow me on Twitter for updates ~ See you next week! ^^

Jaebeom takes Yujin to the garden first. Standing a few steps away from the garden arch, pink flowers decorating the iron base. The vibrant petals contrast against the surrounding plain green hedges. Jaebeom doesn't bring her into the garden though. Instead, he briefly explains that it's more of a maze instead of an actual garden.

"What's in the middle of the maze then?" Yujin asks, looking beyond the arch. Interestingly, the sun is bright overhead, but the garden pathway is rather dark, and there seems to be a kind of fog clouding it, giving a mysterious aura.

"Oh, nothing much. Just a water fountain, that's all," Jaebeom responds, bringing her attention to the mansion instead. Yujin slightly frowns. Why does the fae seem rather dismissive?

"The mansion has an east wing and a west wing," Jaebeom gestures to the rectangular blocks that emerge from the centre of the mansion. "And there are three floors. The first floor is a common area, where the kitchen and the dining hall are located in the west wing. The east wing is where the servants' quarters are located."

"The second floor is made up of sleeping quarters for the rest of the household. That one, however," Jaebeom points out at the balcony just above the front door to the mansion, "is the ballroom. The third floor is the library in its entirety."

Next, Jaebeom brings her back inside the mansion. They step into the kitchen first, where Chan -- the one who served them earlier -- is focused on cooking a dish. There are two other faes busily moving about in the kitchen. None of them seem to be affected by their presence. Yujin catches the greenish glint in their eyes.

"Does your household employ different elemental faes?" Yujin asks when they exit the kitchen.

"Elemental faes prefer to stick to their own kind. But here, it's different. We don't follow the general notion."

"What about Jinyoung? He's your brother but he's not a Fire fae."

Jaebeom smiles ruefully.  "That's because he's my half-brother."

Yujin expects him to go on, but he doesn't. He leaves the conversation as it is. The next room over is the dining hall, but having been there during breakfast, Jaebeom skips to the servants' quarters.

"This is where the servants stay. If you need anything, you can approach them. Preferably, you should approach me though," Jaebeom murmurs the last sentence to himself but the silence in the house makes it loud and clear to Yujin's ears.

They head up the stairs, to the second floor. Jaebeom shows Yujin the ballroom, pushing open the large wooden door. It's basically empty, the daylight streaming into the room through the glass doors, casting a glow onto the marble-tiled floor. Beyond the doors is the balcony that she saw from the garden arch.

"We shall hold our wedding here," Jaebeom suddenly says, a huge grin on his face. In an instant, Yujin feels her heart drop. The tour has made her temporarily forget the reason she was brought here.

"Well, let's continue on." The fae walks out of the room, Yujin trailing behind.

He goes past the stairs and to the start of the hallway of the west wing, pausing there. "At the very end is where my room is located," Jaebeom states. "If you ever need anything, you can find me there."

Then they go up to the third floor, where the library is. The stairs form a bridge-like structure that splits into two pathways. The library appears taller than the other two floors, thanks to the roof that is shaped like a dome. It is made of entirely glass, allowing for the steady stream of sunlight. With the vast space -- a result of the merging of the two wings into one -- Yujin guesses there could be thousands of books in total: there are aisles of books, and every wall is turned into a bookshelf too!

"All the books in the library are my personal collection," Jaebeom gestures at the aisles. “But you’re more than welcome to read them.”

Yujin stares at Jaebeom, mouth gaping at him. She has always wanted to read new books but never had the chance, considering the financial situation of her family. They only have enough to sustain their survival, rarely anything more to purchase new things. Only once did her father gift her a novel that she has read multiple times throughout the years.

"Thank you, I’d like that a lot," Yujin can’t help but return a smile, genuinely grateful and happy. This seems to please the fae, for he looks at her as if she’s never smiled before.

"Well, uh--" Jaebeom clears his throat, “Come this way.”

Moving past rows of bookshelves, right at the very end, there is an arched glass window, with cushioned seats lined on the windowsill. Looking out, Yujin gets a bird's eye view of the mansion grounds, including the garden maze. She spots a fountain in the center, true to what Jaebeom said.

“It's nice, isn't it?” Jaebeom comments.

Definitely, Yujin thinks to herself.

“Well, that’s all there is in this mansion,” Jaebeom concludes. "I hope you’re more comfortable and familiar here."

“Yes, thank you for showing me around."

“Anything for you,” Jaebeom replies, eyes rather fond. "Ah yes, you’ll be fitted for your dress today, in the late afternoon. Yeri will remind you again."

“I shall leave you to yourself then,” he says, bowing politely and making his way out.

Yujin redirects her attention to the view outside. How advantageous is this, she realizes. Having a view from this angle will allow her to monitor the movements around the mansion.

She might have just arrived here and so far, no one has tried to harm her. Still, she can't get complacent. She can't let her guard down. There's a lot of things she doesn't know, questions that remain unanswered. But it's better she doesn't delve too much into it, she muses. The fae are skilled in deluding people, she reminds herself. It's better that she focuses on finding a way out of this place. She shouldn’t stay here any longer than necessary.

---

Yujin is woken by a shake on her shoulder, her eyes still heavy. She peeks an eye, the sun already casting slanted shadows through the windows. Yeri is standing next to the bed, reminding her of the dress fitting. Yujin quickly freshens herself up before following the servant lady to a guest room situated in the west wing of the mansion.

“Why couldn’t we do the fitting in my own room?” Yujin wonders aloud.

“It’s Master Im’s orders, Lady Shin,” Yeri responds as calm and dignified as usual. Then, she comes a little closer, and whispers, “Master Im doesn’t want anyone near or in your room.” She lets out a small giggle.

Yujin frowns. In an instant, the fae immediately reverts back to her composed self, as if she's done something wrong. Her sudden shift in mood has Yujin letting out a small laugh. Yeri smiles at her sheepishly.

The guestroom is as large as her room in the east wing. Seeing no one else in the room, Yujin decides to take her place at the loveseat. She’s rather thankful to have borrowed a book from the library and brought it along. She was reading it to pass time, but accidentally fell asleep until Yeri came. Basking in the silence of the room, Yujin flips open the book and continues on the page she left off.

She didn’t keep track of the time. She was nose deep into the novel when the door swings open and a commotion follows. Looking up, Yujin sees a male fae entering the room in the longest strides she has ever seen. He stands in the middle of the room, leaning his weight onto one foot. His legs are long, Yujin notices, and his cheekbones are visible beneath his slightly tanned skin. The next thing Yujin notices is the fae’s blue-colored eyes -- a sign that he is a Water fae. Yujin slowly rises to her feet.

“You must be the Shin Yujin,” the fae says with a subtle accent, looking her up and down. Perhaps elemental faes have different cultures and slightly different languages, much like human races.

“I’m Bam, your couturier,” he introduces himself. Before Yujin can even respond, he waves his hand and a mannequin appears in front of him, at the empty space between the guest bed and the loveseat. Bam steps forward, moving his right arm in a fluid motion and a measuring tape slides smoothly down his arm and into his hand. If Yujin had blinked, she might not have even noticed it.

“Measure her, please,” the male instructs and it’s like the measuring tape comes to life. Similar to water, the tape flows from the fae’s hand and slithers its way towards Yujin. It coils around her ankle, then spreads to her hip before covering her entire body like a tight-fit suit. It measures the littlest of details, leaving no skin untouched. Once done, it flows back down to the floor, creeping up to the mannequin. The mannequin morphs to be an exact replica of Yujin’s body.

“Alright, let’s see,” Bam goes. He crosses his arms, fingers underneath his chin, brows furrowed in thought. He tilts his head to the side, humming to himself. Then in the next moment, he suggests, “Perhaps a basic dress?”

Bam snaps his fingers and what appears to be snowflakes starts falling above the mannequin, to reveal a long simple dress. It is plain white, no design apart from the lace on the cap sleeves. The material hugs at the waist and tapers to her thighs, accentuating the Yujin’s curves. The tail fans out at the bottom, forming a smooth circle on the floor.

“What do you think?” the fae asks, glancing at Yujin. She doesn’t even get a chance to form her opinion, let alone open her mouth as Bam waves his hand, shaking his head. “On second thought, never mind. Let’s try another… I think… You’ll go better with an off-shoulder dress.”

Another snap and the basic dress moulds itself into an off-shoulder dress. The sleeves are long and tight to skin. There’s a dip in the middle, towards the cleavage but it’s not too low that it is racy. Around the waist is a rose gold embroidery, and the skirt flows loosely, multiple layers of light chiffon.

“What do you think?” Bam asks again, looking rather proud at his design. This time, Yujin has the time to step forward and feel the material.

The dress is beautiful, Yujin must admit, though she wonders if it suits her.

Just then, Jaebeom barges in, door slamming against the wall, his expression sour. “Bam!” he bellows.

“Oh, hello, Jaebeom,” the Water fae greets. “I think I’m just about done here--”

“How dare you make my bride wait!” Jaebeom raises his voice at the other, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Is this how you treat your clientele? Showing up late?”

Bam cowers. Yujin feels the temperature plummet. Watching the scene warily, she notices the candles around the room dimmed low, almost extinguished.

“I chose you as our couturier and yet, you treat my bride like a fool?”

“I’m sorry, Jaebeom, I had other business to attend to--”

“Excuses!” the Fire fae roars.

“Jaebeom--” Yujin intervenes, though her voice is small. Her own heart pounds in her ears. She definitely doesn’t want to be at the receiving end of Jaebeom’s wrath, but she feels the urge to defend Bam. The Water fae has his head hung low, avoiding any form of eye contact with the other fae. Yujin doesn’t know where she got the courage to move forward, such that she touches Jaebeom’s elbow. “It’s fine. It wasn’t a long wait -- not with a book to keep me company.”

Jaebeom looks over his shoulder. His anger seems to dissipate almost instantly. Out of the corner of her eye, Yujin notices the fires are back to normal. “Are you sure? I can punish him, if you’d like.”

“That won’t be ideal, would it? We need his service for our wedding,” she placates the male.

Jaebeom exhales steadily. Then he turns back to Bam, who is still looking down at his feet. Jaebeom jabs his finger into his chest once more, and spits, “You should be thankful to the mercy of my bride. Else, you’d be dead by now.”

The Fire fae faces Yujin once more, gently tapping her shoulder, a smile on his lips. His hand slides down her arm to hold her hand up between them. “If there’s anything you are displeased with, don’t hesitate to call me.” He brings up the hand higher, pressing his lips to her knuckles. Gently letting her go, Jaebeom turns on his heels and leaves the room. Yujin can’t help but notice how Bam immediately relaxes.

“Thank you for saving my life,” the couturier expresses his gratitude with a slight bow, a relieved expression on his face.

Yujin offers a kind smile. “I don’t think I did anything but you’re welcome.”

“Such amazing ability, you have,” Bam says. “I can’t believe that it’s true.”

Yujin cocks her head to the side. “What is?”

“Well,” Bam starts rather hesitantly. “Jaebeom has always been a hot-headed person, much worse than what you saw earlier. But his temper has mostly died down ever since he moved to this mansion, you see. Occasionally, he does get angry when it comes to important matters. But the fact that he was furious at me for being late and that you calmed him real quick… You really have Jaebeom wrapped around your finger.”

Yujin got reminded of Jinyoung, who said the same words. She shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe he doesn’t like truancy.”

Bam shakes his head. “I’ve known him all my life. And I’ve never seen him like this.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You must mean a lot to him, considering that he’s protective of you.”

Yujin doubts so. There must be another reason for Jaebeom to behave in such a manner. Even if he is protective of me, it's because he needs me for something. But I wonder what...

“Ah!” Bam’s face suddenly lights up. He whips around and snaps his fingers at the mannequin. The sleeves are gone, and thin straps are added instead. Then, just slightly above the chest, a gold jewelry wraps around the mannequin. Magic flows downward, constructing a long chiffon cape that drapes all the way down, almost touching the floor.

“How do you find this?” Bam presents it to Yujin, his blue eyes gleam with pride.

“It’s-- Majestic.” Yujin finds herself amazed by the elegance it holds.

Bam grins wide. “Perfect for the bride of the Im house.”

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.15

Jealousy Incarnate

11/09/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 6,639

Warnings: language, angst, pining, fluff, jealousy, confused Peter Parker

A/N: Oh man, I’ve had a WEEK. My pain flared up out of nowhere and then I just couldn’t focus my brain. It was hell to get this chapter out, not because I didn’t want to but I just couldn’t. It rarely happens but I just couldn’t concentrate. Anyway, I hope you like this one. Things are...changing. Let me know what you think! As this story gets so many comments, I cannot reply to all of them but I DO read them all. I will try and respond to some of them. I love y’all so much. You mean the world to me. If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work! xoxo

TAGS ARE CLOSED FOR THIS STORY!

You didn’t know you could be this angry. This hurt. This…jealous?

The festering boil that Maggie’s constant mention had brought, you thought, had been done away with.

True to his word, Steve did everything in his power to show you that it was you and only you.

As you’d begun your descent through the castle's pretty dark oak hallways, warm wooden walls lined with portraits and colorful tapestries, you’d almost made up your mind to pull him aside and just give in.

Love him as you were meant to. As you’ve been wanting to do.

You've been feeling less and less apprehensive with his Majesty and you’re just about ready to welcome him back into your bed.

Back into your life, properly. As your husband.

You still need to tell him about the baby too. Another month gone and you still haven’t told him, and your belly is just starting to swell.

You reach down and give it a quick caress over your dress, fingers tracing the delicate and ornate embroidery of the firm black bodice. The orange silk shirt underneath with it’s ruffled and off the shoulder neckline keep you cool in the last heatwave of autumn before true winter comes. Does it snow here? You aren’t sure.

The gray skirt is light weight, flowing around you like a gossamer cloud with only the faintest hints of black thunder within.

Around your neck you’re wearing your locket. Carefully you reach up to fix it as you head for the garden, where you know his Majesty will be.

He goes every day to walk the space, wondering if today will be the day you come down, or so he says.

You’ve tried to catch glimpse of him in the weeks past and you do see him wandering around in the afternoons.

Today you’re sure is the day to forgive him. Truly forgive him. For everything. Today, you and his Majesty can start all over again. Today is the day that your new life begins.

Turning into the garden, your feet stutter as you watch his Majesty walk towards the hedge and flower maze entrance, his wide shoulders relaxed. He has his hands held behind his back, but his face is happy, smiling, not a care in the world it seems.

Not even for you.

Despite his proclamations of coming down here to wait for you, there he goes, walking side by side with a blonde woman who stands taller and firmer than you will ever be. Her body even through the luxurious diamond blue gown she’s wearing is clearly fit and able.

You’re no slouch but her body is ridiculous. Carefully crafted protection. You shouldn’t compare. You shouldn’t do it, but your body is swelling. Your breasts are already growing larger. The fatty places, already soft and jiggly are thickening more.

She reaches out to grab his Majesty’s bicep and gives it a squeeze as she laughs, and he laughs with her.

He’s laughing with her!

You’re not expecting the tightness in your chest at the sight of him smiling and laughing with someone else. Not pulling away when she touches him the way he’d done so many times with you.

You can still remember trying to reach for his hand on your wedding day and he’d quickly pulled his hand out of reach.

You see red and huff. Fed up.

He turns to talk to her but then as you step back, your movement seems to catch his eye.

Quickly as you can, while his smiling eyes are taking a split second to recognize you, you turn and hurry back towards the castle, moving around the garden gate and out of sight, a flurry of voile skirt following in your wake.

You hear him before you see him, heart pounding with betrayal.

Suddenly he’s on you, his hand around your wrist as you turn to look at him, confusion and hurt in your eyes.

“Y/N…” He says in thick desperation that forms a lump in your throat. “You came.”

He smiles. And you hate him all over again.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come with me.” Nat urges you, moving to pull you up from bed.

“Nat, I’m not even dressed yet.” You complain, moving towards the basin in the corner of your room where you’ve taken to running every morning. Sometimes after midday as well.

This baby is not making your pregnancy easy.

Nat sees where you’re headed and her excitement fades as her brow furrows instead.

“You okay?” She releases your hand and instead wraps an arm around your lower back.

“I’m fine.” You chuckle, pushing her arm away.

She and grandmother have been fussing over you since she arrived, watching your every move, every pain, every dizzy spell.

“Just a bit sick to my stomach. Nothing out of the ordinary.” You assure her and stop by your table instead to pick at your breakfast.

You stare at the jam in agony, wishing you could take a bite of the strawberry delicacy that his Majesty had sent up for you two mornings ago. It was better than the last and you wish you could eat it, but the baby does not like it and so, it sits there. Ignored.

You eat only a bit of bread. Then carefully raise the cup of wormwood and mint tea, suggested by grandmother for its calming properties.

Scrunching your nose, you sip it, and relish when your stomach settles a little. The taste is not exactly your favorite, but you’ll gladly sacrifice your taste buds to stop being sick every five minutes.

“Are you sure? I can fetch Grandmother.” Nat offers, adopting the name you’ve been calling the old woman since she arrived.

“I’m sure. I’ll feel better when I can eat. I’m hungry but at the same time, I cannot stand to look at food.” You sigh, missing your jams and jellies.

“Well, let’s get you dressed.” She hurries over to your wardrobe to look at your dresses and opts for something simple.

A white gown made of flowing light fabric. It kind of looks like cotton but not quite. It’s minimal compared to the other gowns you’ve worn around the castle. Just white. No design. Only a simple ruffle around the neck to accent your bust.

“Why?” You plead without whining.

“Because I have something to show you. Something that you must see. No exceptions. I also have something for you when we get down there.” She offers ominously.

“Down where?” You ask, moving to her as she throws your dress over the back of the opposite chair at your table then holds her hands out and waits for you to stand still to strip you.

“You’ll see.” She’s grinning like a cat, and you’re suddenly terrified.

It turns out to be the garden that Nat wants to take you to.

Fresh air is just what you need, and you find that your stomach settles completely once you’re out in the open space.

“This was a good idea.” You smile, feeling at ease and better than you’ve felt since you got back.

Of course, his Majesty is always on your mind. He’s the whole reason you’ve come back.

He’s the last piece of your puzzle. The reason you don’t sleep soundly.

And yet, he’s your husband. How can someone that’s already yours drive you this mad?

“I’m glad you think so.” Nat smiles beside you, her arm wrapped around yours as she leads you down the familiar path.

The gardens are alive with the end of the season. Dragonflies glisten with pearlescent wings, birds and bees fill the air, whizzing by in the comforting breeze. The sun pimples your skin as you soak it up and your hand subconsciously moves over your still normal tummy, excited to give your baby healthy sunshine.

The air is fragrant. The endless flowers, which you now notice have been left to grow wild, paint the garden in vibrant colors.

He listened. You can’t help but think. Because you’d told his Majesty that your only criticism with the beautiful space is that everything was too well kept. Too structured.

Now the gardens have begun to resemble the wildflowers you’d napped in on rolling green hills back in Malibia.

This garden…most of it anyway, makes you feel like you’re home.

You make to turn to the left, away from Margaret’s pavilion which his Majesty had banned you from using—the only spot in this lovely place that makes you feel like an intruder still…unwelcome—but Nat pulls you to a stop and turns towards the right.

“Let’s go this way. We never go this way.” She insists, forcing her manipulation to sound like genuine pleading. You can see right through her though.

“Because there isn’t anything over there, except a place that I’m not allowed to go.” You sigh and move once more towards the left, pulling your arm from Nat's when she doesn’t move.

You get three steps before there’s a deep sigh. “Wait!”

Stopping, you turn to look at the wily Goddess and she rolls her eyes, reaching into her dress pocket to pull out a thick piece of parchment.

“What’s that?” You wonder, suddenly nervous because you know very well what it is.

“I wanted to see your face when you see it, but I suppose I should just do it his way. Here.” She offers the parchment to you looking disappointed.

“His way?” You repeat, confuse and moving back towards her.

Taking the folded piece, you open it up and stare down at his Majesty's familiar hand.

My Darling,

He begins, and your heart beats crazy.

I understand why you cannot see me. Rather, why you won’t see me. I have done nothing but make you feel as if you do not belong here. Such is my crime.

You frown, hating the reminder.

I didn’t know what you would come to mean to me. How could I when you came out of nowhere and struck me down like a bolt of lightning? I want you to know that I wholeheartedly regret the things I said…and did. You didn’t deserve them. I was a fool. I wish I could take them back. All of them.

Especially our wedding night. My heart is raw knowing that I hurt you that way. I love you. I can’t believe I…

From this day forth, I will do everything in my power to make sure that you know just how much you mean to me.

You’re chewing your lip furiously, anxious and somehow grateful for the words he’s written but only time will tell how well he can keep that promise.

This is your home, sweetheart. You’re my one and only from now until our dying day. Forgive me for making you feel as if you had to compete with someone else.

The funny thing is, you can see the intent behind his words even though he only half means them.

You can tell that he means them in the sense that you are his future. He loves you as his current wife. The woman who will be the mother of his children though, he doesn’t know that yet.

In that sense, he means it, but he also meant every word about Margaret. He loved her to death and when she died, he fell apart. He ceased to function.

She had a part of him that you can never touch. Not in the same way and you feel slightly sad that he feels he must bury that down to make you happy.

He should make you happy just as you want to make him happy, but that doesn’t mean you like the way he’s going about it. You’d much rather he be open with you, no matter how painful hearing about Margaret might be.

Maybe so long as he doesn’t compare you, then you’ll be okay?

I hope this small gesture will prove to you that I mean what I say. I’ve instructed Nat to take you.

You’ve been walking down the pathway towards the opening with the pavilion and suddenly it springs out of the greenery.

You gasp, completely thrown by the fact that Margaret’s red daisies are gone and in their place are what must be hundreds and hundreds of pale pink and peach peonies.

They rustle in the breeze, wafting sweet fragrance towards you threatening to knock you off your feet with how much you want to swoon.

With shallow breath, a gasp of air you hadn’t realized you’d been depriving yourself of, you look back down at the letter.

For the one that I crushed. I am the biggest moron in the twelve Kingdoms.

I love you, Y/N. Believe me or not, it does not change the fact that it’s true. Never forget that I am waiting.

I will wait forever if I must, patiently. Longingly. Desperately waiting for you to love me and this time I will gladly let you.

Yours forever,

His Majesty King Steve G. Rogers

You don’t know what to do. You want to cry because you’re so happy, but you also want to laugh because this letter is everything you’ve wanted him to tell you. You’re angry because it isn’t in person, but you have only yourself to blame for that.

You begged him to stay away and you do still want him to keep his distance. But you wish you could look into his eyes and see if he means these things he’s writing.

“Y/N?” Nat checks, peeking around a small hedge. “You okay?”

You turn to her and nod, smiling lightly as tears glisten between your lashes but do not fall.

“I…Why couldn’t he be like this from the start?” You sigh, looking down at your letter and then looking up at the peonies standing in pleasing contrast against the dark stone of the little build.

Nat sighs. “I think he wanted to.”

You look at her, not believing her one bit. “But…”

“I think that’s exactly what made him mean. Steve has always been one for commitment. For duty and honor and marrying you was not exactly his choice. I’m not saying that he isn’t glad he did it, but the council pushed him to marry quickly. Before he was ready to let go of Maggie.

“I don’t think he was expecting to like you as much as he did. To love you. Truly love you and also still love her. They made promises to each other when they thought that they had forever and then forever was gone. But he still made those promises and ever a man of his word, he tried to keep himself from giving in to you.” Nat smiles at you, reaching over to rub your back.

“So, what you’re saying is that he was purposefully cruel because he was in love with me and didn’t want to be?” You repeat for her.

Nat’s smile turns apologetic and you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I don’t know if I can forgive him, Nat. I have had no experience in love. I was a virgin when we married. I…Thor was my first kiss. My first real one that wasn’t taken by force.” Some of the men of your village were disgusting and only a knife to the throat could deter them. “It should have been Steve. His hands should have been soft and gentle. Instead, he held me down and…”

“He knows that you need time.” Nat assures you. “But do you think you can forgive him eventually? Enough to be with him? To be his wife again?”

You lapse into silence, staring at the romantic gesture before you and notice inside the gazebo a small table has been set up with teas, biscuits, and jams.

Your heart swells, fluttering in your chest as you huff a small breath of delight.

Now that you’ve been outside for a while, you realize how hungry you are and your stomach growls loudly.

“Is he trying to overfeed me?” Your heart grows wary. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

You turn to Nat who shakes her head. “Of course not. No one but Grandmother and I know and we’re not telling anyone until you’re ready. But Y/N, you can’t keep this to yourself for long. The council will usurp Steve if he doesn’t produce an heir. You have just under five months left to announce your pregnancy and have a doctor examine you to ascertain the validity of your pregnancy.”

“I know.” You move towards the pavilion, taking in the tall steeple roof that you just now realize ends in a point made of glass. It gives view to the sky. “I just didn’t want him to love me for the baby.”

“He’s already in love with you.” Nat promises. “Baby or not. He wants you.”

“Will he be happy?” You wonder. “Truly happy? Will he regret that it isn’t with Maggie that he’s building a family? Will he love my baby as much as he would have loved hers?”

Your mouth runs on, asking the questions only your heart knows. Afraid of being second to a memory. Afraid to hear him say those words again, “Maggie wouldn’t-Maggie would-Maggie did-Maggie, Maggie, Maggie”.

“Y/N…” Nat begins.

“It’s stupid to be jealous of her. I know that.” You sit in the small padded seat and reach over to lather jam on a biscuit and take a nice big bite.

No nausea.

“When you’re ready, ask him. And I’m sure he will tell you exactly how he feels about you and your baby. His baby, Y/N.” She reminds you.

You nod. “Our baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s just a peek. That’s all Steve wants. Just a quick look.

He knows you came down here because Peter came to tell him.

Peter who has been moping around Steve instead of being with you and Nat as he usually is because you’ve instructed him to stay away too.

He’s right beside him now, walking silently the way the kid does.

His mouth is a different story.

“What did I do? Do you think I offended her Majesty in some way?” Peter asks, gesturing his chest over his pale green tunic. “I understand why she doesn’t want to speak with you or having you around. You were a huge ass to her. But me?”

Steve turns to glare at him, frowning as he turns back towards the smaller hidden pathway that leads to your pavilion.

“What? I didn’t do anything to make her angry.” Peter reiterates.

“No.” Steve sighs. “She might just need some space. Talk about women’s problems with Nat.”

Or tell her about things that you’d done with Thor that you didn’t want to say around Peter?

Even though Thor had assured him that he hadn’t lain with you, Steve wonders.

“You’re sure she never asked about him?” Steve questions your guard and Peter frowns at him this time.

“Why do you keep asking me?”

“I just want to be sure.” He explains. “They spent a lot of time together.”

“Your Majesty, Steve…if she wasn’t in love with you, she wouldn’t be pushing you away right now. She has to really care about you to be pissed enough to give you the cold shoulder. If she were talking to you like normal, then I think you’d have reason to worry.

“If she stops getting angry, then it means she doesn’t care.” Peter nods. “She never asked about Thor. Not to me.”

Steve stares at the kid—at twenty-two he’s not really a kid anymore but to Steve he’ll always be that massively strong little twerp that stole his shield—and realizes that he’s right.

You’re angry. Which means that you still care. Steve smiles and walks on, shifting into a semi-crouch as they get closer to a small opening in the hedge that is hidden behind a well-placed tree.

“Why are we here?” Peter asks, whispering because Steve’s crouching makes everything feel sneaky.

“I just want to see if she likes it.” Steve stops behind the tree, peeking out towards the pavilion.

All of Margaret’s red daisies are one, replaced by large, fragrant, and beautiful peonies in peach and pink shades.

His heart gives a small ache at the absence of the flower he’s associated with Maggie for almost twenty years, but then he sees you, sitting in the pavilion, smiling from ear to ear.

You’re a vision in white. No…more like a cream, with a pale green ribbon around your waist. The ruffles on your neckline accentuate your breasts and Steve’s heart gives a small ache. He wants to have you in his arms again.

Beneath him, beside him, inside you as one but properly this time. Showing you just how much he should have been worshipping your precious body from day one.

You laugh lightly, chuckling at something Nat has said then reach out to grab a biscuit and smear some jam on it.

You take a bite and the sticky pulp smears against your pretty lips.

Steve swallows hard, then his mouth falls open as he gapes at you while you lick your lips clean. Had your mouth always been so tempting?

He’d been fighting himself so hard that he had never given himself a chance to really look at you and appreciate the small details of your body. Now it’s all he sees. The way your hands elegantly curl around a tart. The gentle way you throw your head back and laugh as Nat serves your tea.

He grins when you slouch and then as if you’re remembering you shouldn’t be slouching, you suddenly sit up straight and he can see you chastising yourself silently for the slip.

He’d give anything to move to you and rub your back, assure you that you can slouch and lay back if you want to. Convention is only for when the public can see you. At least in these instances. Tiny things like this…you should be comfortable in your home.

Suddenly, he realizes that you are. Forgetting to sit up straight, laughing in the pavilion, surrounded by the flower and its fragrance that has permanently seeped into your skin and hair. You are completely at ease in this spot and he feels a pain in his gut that moves up along his ribs and into his chest carving out splinters because this should have always been yours.

He made you feel unwelcome…how can he ever make it up to you?

“Steve…?” Peter whispers, and Steve’s head inches to turn to him but when he doesn’t Steve takes the nod as assent to continue. “Do you really love her?”

For a moment, Steve can only stare at you and ask himself that same question. You lay your elbow on the back of the bench and lean your head into your hand as you take a bite once more, staring at Nat as she animatedly recounts some tale.

Your hair falls around your face, the small smile that stretches your lips is angelic. Perfection. Why did he have to wake up to your true charms so late? Why couldn’t he have given in sooner?

“I do.” He confesses.

“Because if you don’t—and you’re just using her so that you can get your heir and keep your crown-” Peter begins.

Steve rounds to look at him so quickly that Peter takes a step back, hands twitching at his side, ready to web his way out of the garden if Steve tries anything.

“There was only one time that I used her. One time. And it was to save Morgana from marrying me. I think I’ve loved Y/N from the moment I saw her standing in my throne room…in that blue dress…looking excited and terrified. And heartbroken when I told her that she could never make me happy.” Steve sighs. “Now she’s the only one who can.”

He looks at you but you’re rising, eyes brimming with recognition and excitement.

Although he can’t hear you, he sees you open your mouth in an exclamation of delight. Calling to someone out of sight.

You raise your skirts and hurry down the steps of the pavilion and hurry towards the hedge path.

Lumbering out of it comes Thor, blonde hair flowing behind him as he rushes to meet you.

The two of you collide and he can hear Thor’s laugh, booming around the space and filling it with his deep chortle. He can’t hear yours, but he can see it in your face as Thor lifts you and turns you around slowly.

Without hesitation, he leans in and kisses your lips. A quick peck that might be in friendship but the both of you shut your eyes and Steve must look away as his chest is cracked open. He wraps his hand around the backside of the tree he’s hiding behind, fingers crumbling away at the bark as he curls his hand around it in a fist.

He tears his eyes back up to the two of you, forcing himself to watch.

All that affection…over a month…

“What did I do?” Steve wonders, trying to see it all through new eyes how he pushed you and neglected you and refused to give you love.

Thor’s got his hands on either side of your waist and he’s looking down at you as if he’s examining your body and Steve hates him again. And himself. Mostly himself.

Thor steps aside and from the path comes a smaller body, thinner, long straight brown hair flying behind her as she races to embrace you.

Morgana.

Tony and Pepper follow a few steps behind but stand back to allow you and your sister to reunite.

“Steve?” Peter checks with worry in his voice. “You okay?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Your Majesty?”

“No.” Steve admits. “I’m not. I have work to do.”

Without another word, Steve pushes past him and heads back up to the castle to finish what he’d started in his office.

If he’s going to win you back, he’s going to have to really try.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re at a loss for words, arms clinging to the teen girl because her own hug is so very tight.

With wide eyes you look up at Tony and Pepper who stand there smiling at you fondly.

You can’t say what you’d like because Thor is here so instead you carefully tuck Morgana’s brown hair behind her ear and coax her head up to look at you.

“Mara…” You coo, happy to meet your sister at last. “I’m so glad you’re finally home.”

“I’ve been home.” She says, half laughing and it’s only now that you realize how distinguished she sounds. How much of a princess she really and truly is as opposed to you… “On the way here, I was telling Thor that I’d only seen you a few times a year so when you offered to take my place as King Rogers’s bride, I was so full of love and gratitude. I can never explain the complexities of how I feel to finally have you in my life once again. Thank you.”

She’s letting it all out, spilling everything in so few words. Telling you that she’s grateful that father found you and that you agreed to marry his Majesty. She’s telling you that she accepts you as her sister and that she understands that where you come from is a secret and she is going to do everything in her power to keep it for you.

You smile at her, hoping it’s with fondness that you do so.

“Tell me everything.” She suddenly gushes, and then slides to stand beside you. “Can I stay with you for a few weeks? Will Steve mind?”

Even Morgana calls him by his first name?

You nod. “You can stay. I’m sure he won’t mind. You’re my precious sister. I dare him to try.”

Morgana laughs, wrapping her arm around yours and leading you back up to the pavilion where Pepper, Tony, and Nat follow.

The next few weeks are full of time spent with your family.

Every day you wake up and have breakfast with Morgana, Thor, or Tony and Pepper until they finally have to leave to deal with kingdom business. Morgana stays. So does Thor. And because you’re not ready for anyone to know about the baby yet, you have to make even more adjustments to your day-to-day life.

Before the castle wakes, Grandmother comes to see you. Often, you’re already up, spewing your dinner into its designated basin. Nat isn’t around this early so it’s up to you to take care of yourself.

Grandmother checks your body, measures your stomach which steadily begins to curve outwards. After a month, your bump is finally large enough to notice, but only when you stand naked or when someone comes to feel it.

Nat does this every day and she has to look for it to feel the hard, little pebble that seems to be growing in your belly.

You’re so happy and it’s dimmed by only one thing.

After lunch you take your reading and writing lessons, and as he always does, his Majesty waits to cross into his council chambers as you exit the large library.

He stops, his eyes devouring the sight of you.

Every time he does it, your cheeks burn, and your neck overheats. Every day he looks bit more tortured.

Finally, after the third week of not speaking with him, he sends word with Nat.

“Another one?” You ask, looking across your room at the vases of flowers that he’s sent. There are gifts still unopened on one of your tables by the window.

They’re lovely, and you are grateful, but you’re starting to think that he may be wanting to buy your affections, so you stop opening them and just stare at the slowly growing pile.

“It’s just him telling you that he’ll be walking in the garden if you ever wish to join him. He’s getting desperate.” Nat’s lips curve into a satisfied half smile.

“Why is that funny?” You wonder, staring at the letter before moving over to your window to try and get a good look at the garden but from this side you can’t see much.

“No one has ever made him work this hard.” She tells you. “With Maggie everything was just decided. They were together one day then they were getting married. It all just fell into place.”

You sigh. “I wanted it to be that easy for us.”

“I know. But I’m glad it isn’t. I think it’ll make you both stronger in the end.” She nods.

With a sigh you turn to look at her, watching her fill your bath.

“What about you?” You demand.

“What about me?” She widens her green eyes, shaking her head as she measures your oils.

“When are you going to stop torturing Bucky and marry him?” You bite.

“Oh, no. Not you too.” Nat gripes.

“You know what? I think that’s a valid question.” A deep voice offers.

In your doorway, Bucky stands with his arms crossed over his chest.

“When are you going to marry me? I can’t keep waiting for you, my scarlet rose. I’m an eligible bachelor. I have many women who would love to be Lady Barnes.” He boasts.

“Oh, is that so?” Nat wonders, eyes narrowed to slits. “Well, then I guess you don’t need me then.”

She shrugs.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, your Majesty. I’m going to go fetch you some more hot water.” She turns and moves past Bucky, nudging him with her shoulder as she passes.

Bucky is speechless, staring at you with confusion as to how his gentle teasing went so wrong.

“What-?”

“You’re really going to just let her walk out after that?” You offer.

“Shit.” Bucky gasps, then sprints from the room after Nat. “Natasha!”

You peek out at the garden again, and this time you can see his Majesty’s wide shoulders and golden head as he waves slowly through the hedge maze in the distance, hands behind his back in contemplation.

Suddenly he looks towards your room and he stops to stare, the two of you sharing in this moment of utter pining.

Will you and he ever be as close as Nat and Bucky?

You rub your tummy and bite your lip.

How long will he wait?

~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve?” The blonde woman calls, and rounds the gate, eyes searching for him.

Steve?! She calls him, ‘Steve’?!

You stare at him, this new revelation painful.

His mouth opens and shuts as he finally sees past his own happiness to see the discomfort in your eyes.

“Oh.” The blonde says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you—You must be Y/N.”

You know damn well that she should be calling you by your title, so your heart grows a little colder and you carefully yank your hand out of his Majesty’s grip.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She hurries to his Majesty’s side and curtsies before wrapping her arm around his elbow as his own brow furrows as you inch away.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady…?” You wait for his Majesty to speak. He should be the one to introduce the two of you.

She gives his arm a squeeze.

“What?” He looks at her and realizes what’s happening. “Oh, right. Forgive me. This is Lady Sharon Carter.”

Then he hesitates.

You fix your eyes on him, wondering what the uncertainty is for.

“Sharon…” He looks at the blond whose angelic smile is soft and controlled but real and her hand is still around his elbow! She’s a true lady. Like Morgana, so put together and controlled. A golden swan before a dulled brown pigeon. “Sharon is Margaret’s cousin. We grew up together.”

Seriously? Another Carter? This is just perfect.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You tell her, speaking quickly. “If you’ll excuse me, Lady Sharon, but I don’t feel well.”

You turn and leave them, storm cloud skirts swishing along your ankles.

You’re inside when you hear the hurried steps that then break into a run before that same heated hand is around your wrist again.

“Wait, Y/N…don’t go.” His Majesty pleads.

As you turn to pull your hand free, his Majesty tightens his grip and so it pulls you closer to him so that you’re standing inches away.

“Release me.” You speak sternly.

“Why are you upset? Did I say something?” He suddenly looks deep in thought, replaying the past ten minutes in his head.

“Your Majesty, please, release me.” You beg.

“Your Maj-? Steve, please Y/N. Call me Steve.” He doesn’t release you. “Why are you trying to leave? You came down finally. Does this mean you’re ready to speak to me?”

And he sounds like he’s finally been put out of his misery. He’s so happy that your heart aches because you made him miserable this past month and you hadn’t anticipated that. You’d only wanted a break from everything he’d brought you. Pain. Humiliation. Neglect.

You hadn’t meant to hurt him in the process.

Once more you attempt to pull yourself free, but he suddenly throws his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his chest.

“Why are you trying to leave me?” He asks, bringing his voice down low and quiet so that you and he are the only two in the hallway, the castle, the world.

“Did you get tired of waiting for me? Did you need company?” You ask of him, wondering if he’ll pick up on the jealousy you’re feeling. The sting of it is unbearable.

Being jealous of Maggie had been one thing. She’s gone. That blonde…Sharon…she’s right there. Clinging to his arm.

He sighs, a small smile tugging at his lips. The heat of his breath warms your lips and your body melts without your permission. He quickly compensates for the lack of resistance and cradles you closer to his body.

“Oh, sweetheart, no.” He smiles a little more, this time it reaches his eyes and they’re so dazzling in their sparkling blue that you nearly forget that you’re upset about the blonde woman with her arms on your husband. “Sharon arrive late last night. She heard that I was in the garden and came to look for me. I wasn’t expecting her.”

He licks his lips, dipping down to wrap his arms, both of them, around your waist better. He stands up straight pulling you along with him so that you’re standing on your toes a bit to compensate for the difference in height.

“I’ve only been waiting for you, pigeon.” He assures you.

Your heart flutters, stomach tumbles, as he scrunches up his nose.

���I’m not sold on the pigeon name.” He suddenly says.

“What?” You gasp, so breathless that it makes him smile a little wider.

“You are not a pigeon.” He explains. “And I’d hate to jinx us and call you a bird only to have you run off on me again.”

“I won’t-”

“I’d rather not risk it.” He sighs and begins to rock his body from side to side, taking yours with it.

“Your Maj-”

“How about pearl? Can you be my pearl?” He shakes his head. “No. You’re full of beauty and elegance. A true Queen. Noble. Royalty. A diamond? Maybe you’re my gem?”

His words sting because they’re all wrong. You’re not a true queen or noble or even remotely royal. You’d be lucky to be on the same level as a pearl. You’re definitely not a gem.

You don’t know what makes you do it. Maybe it’s because you’ve been in such pristine specimens of the upper-class lady in Morgana’s and Nat’s company? And with Sharon here too?

You’re nothing like these women. You’re nothing. No one. A peasant. A commoner.

“I’m not.” You tell him.

“If you don’t like being my gem, we can pick something else.” He says, not understanding.

“I’m no one, your Majesty.” You continue.

“Steve.” He chastises.

“I’m a peasant. Truly.”

He stops rocking.

“Father…King Anthony found me on the side of the road, helping an old woman fetch her purse from a bog. I’m an orphan. I come from nothing and no one. I’m not his true daughter. He wanted to save his daughter and you, and he begged me to do this for him and I agreed…I’m of no consequence.” Your lip trembles, threatening sorrow as you realize that you’ve told him your last secret.

The only one that matters.

He’ll kick you out. You’ll have to go back to Malibia a failure.

“I’m no one.” You repeat.

His face serious, stern, and those blue eyes boring into your own, his arms tighten.

“You’re a Rogers.” He tells you, so certain that your heart skips a beat. “You’re my wife. My Queen. And you’re my flower.”

He smiles slowly, happy at last with his term of endearment.

“And tomorrow, I’ll throw you the wedding feast that you deserved. I’m going to dance with you and make sure everyone knows that you’re mine. Especially Thor.”

You huff a laugh. Your heart soars.

He leans in towards you, licking his lips as he does.

You shut your eyes.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice floats down from behind him.

His Majesty breathes in sharply, angrily, frustrated, but turns to look at Bucky while gently placing you back on the ground.

“I’ll be right there.” His Majesty assures him, apparently exchanging words with a mere glance, then turns back to you.

“You have nothing to worry about with Sharon.” He promises, caressing the side of your head. “We’ll continue this soon?”

He’s genuinely asking you for your permission and you nod, so stunned at the sudden shift that your mind is reeling.

He leans down to kiss your cheek.

“I will send for you, Lady Rogers.” He smirks, then leaves you to stare after him and Bucky, your legs numb.

[capricornus-rex]

Playing Pretend (8)

Requested by: @calkesttiss | Prompt:

Hi! I just watched isi & ossi (rich girl and poor boxer boy AH) on netflix and now i cant stop thinking about cal and fake dating. Do with that what you will

Additional prompt: ❛  I wasn’t pretending with you.  ❜ [x] 

Cal Kestis x Reader

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | Next: Part 9 | Masterlist

8 of ?

You strode through the empty, lifeless hallways. Thunder rumbled from the outside, you hoped that Cal could get back home before the rain falls. When you reached the open arch that leads to the living room, you discover your parents in there. They appeared to be stiff as statues; your mother was positioned like a queen on the throne as she sat on the velveteen armchair, whereas your father stood by the window that overlooks the garden. You wondered how long have they been staying there.

“Mom, Dad…” you dryly greet.

“Sweetie, sit down,” Sorhan gestures the couch to you. “We need to talk.”

You obey. You toss your jacket to the empty space next to you as you lazily bounced down on the couch, back slouched, arms crossed over your chest, and your leg propped up on your knee.

“You’ve got to stop seeing that… boy,” Yasina evidently had to struggle in finding the right word to use in addressing Cal.

You roll your eyes at your mother, “His name is Cal. Would it kill you if you say his name?”

“Sorry, dear. But, listen to me,”

“To you?” you cut off, but your mother continued nonetheless.

“This charade isn’t healthy. These past few days, you’ve been staying outside more often than in the house. A woman of your stature deserves better.”

“A woman of stature,” you repeat the words mockingly. “Really, Mom? And what kind of guy is good for a woman of my stature?”

Your mother stood her ground, “A man with good reputation, upholds a good imagem and has a good grasp of influence.”

“No, Mom. You’re speaking about yourself. That kind of man you’re talking about… is Dad. I’m afraid you don’t know what’s good for me, you just think you do.”

You’re astonished with the act your mother is putting up. You couldn’t look at her in the eye, you could not bear to listen to her voice for long, because when you do—all you can visualize is how she talked her way into making the Ithrels think that marrying her own daughter off to their son was a good idea. You imagined her thinking of you like some kind of livestock to be sold to the next owner, and it disgusted you straight to the bone. Just thinking about it made you hiccup as you fight back the tears coming on.

“Do you understand [y/n]? This has got to stop,” Yasina firmly said.

“Not until you postpone my engagement with Logan,”

“At with that again, [y/n]!” Yasina hissed. “Why can’t you understand that what we’re doing is only for the best for you?” Yasina sighed but deliberately dodging the engagement subject.

You’re not sure how long you could endure this charade.

There was a resigned look in your mother’s face, but you couldn’t empathize with it because something valuable to you was at stake—your own freedom to choose.

“Don’t you understand? I have your life figured out for you!”

Thunder bellowed over your house.

That sentence didn’t sound right to you. In the back of your mind, your conscience—that tiny but loud voice in your head—was violently thrashing like the wild lightning flashing through the windows, throwing questions left and right until the words would reach the tip of your tongue. That’s when your mother has crossed the line. You jolted up from your seat on the couch and that’s when you let it all out for the first time in your life.

“You know, Mom, just because you think you got my life figured out—with all the decisions involving me that didn’t have my consent or anything—that doesn’t mean it’ll make me happy and content by default! And now you’re suddenly caring about me ever since I started being with Cal? I have been with him for weeks and you’ve only noticed just now! I’ve never been this happy until I found Cal!”

“That boy will do no better than the Ithrels in securing your father’s winning step to the Senate election! We need the Ithrels!”

“And in exchange, you sold off your own daughter as a dowry for that!” you clap back.

“We need their money and influence!”

Your mother’s outburst was a bitter epiphany for you. Your heart sank. Tears welled up behind your eyes and your stomach cramped as you tried to fight back the tears.

So, they’ve chosen that instead of my happiness. So be it. The voice in your head said in a sullen tone.

“I have my answer now…” you choked. “You never cared for me at all. I’m not your daughter.”

A single tear rolls down on your cheek, without waiting for your mother to explain herself, you walked out of the living room; at that moment, you know that it’s hopeless to expect anything from them. You slipped into their bedroom, you located the small safe inside the closet and cracked the code. It never probably crossed your parents’ minds that one day you would pry the vault open and take the money inside. You took enough for you live off from and the debt you’d promised Cal.

You quietly returned to your room and lock yourself in, barring the doorknobs with a chair.

Bags and clothes spilled out of your closet and drawers after rummaging them wildly in a fit. You looked for the best backpack you could find and stuffed it full of your clothes and other daily things.

Two knocks on the door startled you and the muffled voice of your mother on the other side can be heard. You ignored it as you continued packing. Seeing that your primary way out has been blocked by your parents, the window was your next option. Upon opening the shutters, you assess your escape route—the blossom tree’s branches were conveniently near enough your window for you to reach.

You carefully dropped your bag to the hedge below your window. You were next. You balanced yourself on the windowsill and kept your focus on the branch, your mother’s calls to you fell to deaf ears, you blocked out the sound of her knocking so you could concentrate.

“Okay, [y/n], you can do this,” you pep-talk yourself out of it.

A leap of faith.

You gripped onto a sturdy, thick branch extending to a close distance to your window. You make your way down the tree as quickly as possible, another hedge broke your fall, and you snatched your bag right where you dropped it.

You made a run for it and then you were out of the manor’s premises. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, hoping that the path you’re following could be the way Cal is going from your house to Mobara Palace.

Little by little, cold droplets landed on your cheeks until they all fell in succession. The rain was the least of your problems. Fog wafted out of your mouth each time you exhale and the cold air seeping into your lungs was starting to slow you down, but no, you tell yourself that you must keep going.

You arrive to the city. Lampposts lining the streets in the dead of the night was your guide in finding Cal.

“Cal!”

Your voice was nearly drowned out by the rainfall, you went straight ahead, following the directions leading to Mobara Palace but you never stopped calling his name.

“CAL?!”

Under the light of a lamppost, someone walked past it in the darkness of the streets. A sliver of hope convinced you that it was him and so you come running to it.

“CAL…! CAL!!!” you cry at the top of your lungs until he turned to the direction where his name was coming from.

He stopped in his tracks, turned around and saw you.

“[y/n]?”

Cal shielded your head from the raindrops with the flap of his poncho. He puts his arm around you as you walked together through the rain. When Cere saw you drenched and cold, she offered you shelter in their ship without a second’s notice.

You and Cal took turns in using the shower to get changed into warm, dry clothes. It was already late and most of the crew have already retired to bed, except for you and Cal both settled in the couch below the galley.

“How’s the tea?”

Your only reply was a gentle grunt. Your hands clasp the curvature of the mug, letting the heat radiate from the ceramic to your flesh. Cal reaches for you and gently places his hand on your thigh. He was getting tired of your silence, you haven’t spoken ever since you got in the Mantis—except for saying “thanks.”

He decided to sit by your side, scooching closer to you until your sides touch.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know, really… I mean, I still can’t wrap my head around it,”

He didn’t push it, he kept quiet, though it was a comforting kind of silence. The muffled sound of the thunder and rain while you were in the confines of the Mantis was surprisingly relaxing; leaning against the couch, the two of you began rambling to one another, shifting from one random subject to the next.

“Look, I have the money. I’d rather not have you ask me how I got it—”

“I don’t really care about that,” Cal cuts you off, looking into your eyes intently.

You blinked and stammered as you tried to regain yourself. All you could ever do is take another sip of the tea. You stared into the dark, transparent liquid in the cup and saw your reflection. You sighed.

“My parents and I had a fight earlier,”

“Is that why you ran away?”

“Partially. What convinced me to leave was that they made me realize that I never mattered to them as their daughter. Perhaps to them, I was an asset that they can use for their own benefit—the engagement for instance. Not once, did I ever hear from them that they considered what I’d feel if I knew that I was being married off against my will. I’m afraid to think that they never cared about me. They tell me that they care for me, that they only want what’s good for me…” you bite your lip, your grip around the mug tightening.

You continued on rambling, Cal still stood there by your side, listening. Perhaps, that’s all he could ever do to help you right now. You just needed a listener.

“But all this time, my whole life—it was just a big, nasty game of pretend. A game I never wanted to be part of.”

You sniffled and resisted the tears, chugging your tea so that the tears won’t fall. You apologized for suddenly rambling. He noticed that your voice was trailing off, your eyes were drooping, and you could barely hold the mug securely in your hands.

“Aww, look at you, you’re beat,”

“I’m fine,” you stammered.

Cal wasn’t taking that for an answer, he takes the cup away from your hand and scooped you up from the couch and right into his arms. He brought you to the quarters, he asked if you were claustrophobic and apologizes in advance for the condition of your would-be bedroom.

He settles you down on his bed, but you stretched out your arms to him—gesturing him to stay and lie down with you—he gave in and cuddled you. His musk entered your nostrils, you nuzzled your nose on his chest as you cuddled. His hands softly and smoothly glided across your arm, his fingers danced on your sides to exposed tummy back and forth. He felt a chuckle vibrate from you.

“What is it?” he hummed.

“Nothing. I just think this feels nice—even if we’re just pretending,”

“But I wasn’t pretending with you,”

“What?”

“Somehow, I thought you always knew. Back at the park, at the fountain—everything just started to feel different with you.”

You angled your head up to face him, your grip on his tightened a little that his shirt crumpled. He didn’t see it coming—you inched closer to him and you were the one planting a kiss this time. His hands crawled to your neck, he shifted in bed—standing on fours over you—and returns with a more passionate kiss.

Trapped in this intense embrace, you gave in and let go. Cal’s free hand wandered down your side, tracing your curves, his fingers sank into your flesh as he groped you by the thigh. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your nails left red marks as you scratched the skin of his back; you rake his hair back with slender fingers as tender kisses mark your neck. Your back arches as his lips crawl downward from your neck to your chest, Cal’s eyes fixates on your expression and listens to the sighs that escape your lungs.

For the first time in your life, you’ve allowed yourself to give in and let go. No words were spoken, but your emotions were loud enough. Secret smiles revealed themselves as you and Cal gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes.

[secretsofthedarkestkind-arch]

Part 5 of the pilot ramble. Triggers marked. Anyone want to be added to the tag list yet? Nah, that’s okay

Word count: 2,742

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

@storieswrittcn

The group of four had broken up; Matt to go find Elena after she’d left the bridge, Bonnie and Caroline going to do their own thing, and Lee to get another drink. She knew Stefan was off hunting whatever small game he could find. It drove her crazy but she also knew his fear of changing back into a Ripper. That Stefan had been fun, but horrible. Lee just hoped nothing would ever push her over that line. It was always a possibility, even with everything she’d done. Especially because of everything she’d done. 

She leaned against one of the tables, beer in one hand while she pulled her phone from her back pocket. Still nothing. Lee groaned, “So petty…”

“Who?” Bonnie questioned as she leaned against the table beside her, “That look screams trouble in paradise.” 

“Trouble for the relationship? No. This is nothing new. Trouble for me? Yeah, definitely.” Lee shows Bonnie her phone. Her message left on read from the night before.

“June wedding?” Bonnie smirked, looking back up at the Salvatore.

“Caroline wasn’t exactly quiet last night when she said it.” Lee doesn’t even deny overhearing the conversation. She pockets her phone, “It was supposed to be a joke.” 

“Jerk move.” Bonnie challenges.

Lee holds her hands up in mock surrender, “Not denying I’m an ass. But it really was supposed to be a joke. We rile each other up all the time.”

“I take it, she’s possessive.” Bonnie glances down to the ring on her finger. “Not exactly the family ring your brother has.”

“Not even a fraction of how she is.” Lee doesn’t usually talk about Katherine when her brother or possibly brothers are in hearing distance. “But I wouldn’t change her.”

“You know they say possessiveness and jealousy walk hand in hand,” Bonnie reaches for another glass to drink.

“I live it,” Lee takes another drink.

“Then...jerk move.” Bonnie says proud of herself.

Lee laughs, “Jerk move. See, I’m not so perfect.” 

When Bonnie doesn’t answer, Lee notices her eyes are going past her. She turns her head to see Stefan talking to what would appear to be an almost desperate Caroline. Shameless. “You might not be perfect, but I have a feeling you let her down a lot gentler than he just did.”

Stefan throws Lee a small look, not ashamed of himself in the least, as he walks toward Elena. The look on Elena’s face almost makes Lee have to do a double take. That smile that’s almost a smirk, the bird that caught the worm while still trying to look innocent. Not so innocent then. “I think you’re right.” Lee looks away to a crestfallen Caroline. “He’s always had a way with words,” Lee rolls her eyes, tone dripping with sarcasm. 

----

Lee and Bonnie had found Caroline after she’d wandered through the crowd. The witch had been trying to calm her down.

“Somebody help!” Elena’s panicked yell had Lee moving before she could think about it. There was the younger Gilbert struggling to carry another teen who’d been hurt. Lee could smell the blood. She took off her flannel as she reached them, her eyes zeroing in on the vicious bite on the teen’s neck. This wasn’t just to feed, it was a message. One that left the teen hanging in the balance of life and death.

“Press this to her neck, be ready to move with me not against me.” Lee hands Elena her discarded flannel. “Let me have her, I’m stronger than I look.” Lee told the boy, already reaching for the limp girl. Her voice is firm toward both Gilbert’s leaving no room for argument. 

“Vicki? Vicki, what the hell?!” She hears Matt yell. A crowd is circling around them as Matt rushes to be closer.

“Move!” Lee growls, the sea of people parting, “Clean off the table.” She looks over the crowd to find Bonnie, “Call an ambulance, tell them a girl’s been hurt and her carotid has possibly been nicked but not severed.” After the witch's acknowledgment Lee looks away, setting Vicki down on the now clear table. 

Tyler is right there, “What happened to her?” He asks but Lee ignores him. 

“It’s her neck, something bit her. She’s losing a lot of blood.” Elena tries to explain, worry and panic covering her face and painting her voice.

She places a hand on Elena’s white knuckle grip,” I need to see how deep. Just for a second, okay?” Lee’s voice is calmer than it was. Elena numbly nods, letting Lee lift their hands.

“You heard her, somebody call an ambulance!” Matt orders, but Bonnie is right beside him on the phone. The crowd seems to get thicker around them.

“Everybody back up!” Tyler demands spinning to push people back, “Give her some space.”

Lee lowers their hands back to Vicki’s neck, “You’re doing great.” She tells Elena, eyes searching for the teens. “The pressure is helping. She’s losing less blood. Just help me keep the pressure alright?” Lee isn’t pushing much, just a presence on Elena’s hand. 

“Vicki, Vicki, come on. Open your eyes, look at me.” Matt begs.

The vampire feels Stefan’s eyes on her; either because of the scene or because of her touch with Elena is anyone’s guess. She looks up at her brother just as Matt does. “Go…” Lee mouths. Stefan only hesitates for a moment before he’s backing out of the crowd to leave. Lee goes to look back down at Vicki but something catches her attention in the corner of her eye. One of the rafters sits a crow. Damon… Lee snarls some, she wants to go after her brother. But can’t. The siren’s are getting closer.

“They’re almost here,” Lee looks over to Matt, “She should be alright.” The fluttering of wings lets her know the crow is gone, which means so is Damon. Her eyes travel to Elena’s, “Can you keep pressure like this without me?”

“What? No!” Matt argues. “You're the one who knows what you're doing.” Lee doesn’t break eye contact.

“Elena knows. She’s been doing great. Pressure just like this. Alright?” When Elena swallows but nods again, Lee takes her hand off. 

“Lee! Where are you going?” Matt grips her arm.

“My brother is squeamish when it comes to blood. You saw him leave,” Lee locks eyes with him, “I’m going to go check on him. You’re going to be okay, stay with Vicki, and make sure they take her to the hospital.” Her eyes darken, compelling him.

“Go check on Stefan,” Matt let’s go of her arm. “I’m going to stay with Vicki.”

“She’ll be okay,” Lee looks back at Elena, “Just like that.” Then she’s moving through the crowd to head back to the boarding house.

----

Lee’s feet hit the grounds of the estate, eyes searching for where her brothers might be. After a message like that, Damon had to show himself. “She’s not Katherine,” Stefan’s voice hit her. Lee closed her eyes, bracing herself for what she was about to walk into. This was one of the many downsides to the game Katherine had played. 

“Well, let’s hope not. We both know how that ended.” Damon’s cocky, self assured voice. Not hearing it in over fifteen years had been a blessing for sure. She continued to walk up the long drive. “Tell me something, when’s the last time you had something stronger than a squirrel?”

“Fuck…” Lee started to run, at a human pace. The only reason Damon would ask that would be to weigh out his ability to take Stefan in a fight and knowing Damon it wasn’t going to be pretty. She might loathe her brothers, might be able to kill them if the need arises or they rubbed her the wrong way, but she’d be damned if either screwed this. All because Damon couldn’t get over the fact Katherine changed them both and Stefan was the reason Katherine was taken away that night. The latter Lee might secretly agree with. 

Stefan scoffed, “I know what you’re doing Damon. It’s not going to work.” Do you really, Stef? Most of the time the siblings thought they knew what the other was thinking or doing---most of the time, none of them had a damn clue. Too many secrets, too many lies, too many years of hating each other. 

“Yeah?” Lee heard Damon smack Stefan, “Come on. Don’t you crave a little?” 

“Stop it.” Stefan’s voice breaks. Lee scoffs, how easy would it be to break him?

“Let’s do it.” Damon shoves Stefan. “Together. I saw a couple girls out there.” Another hit. “Or just, let’s just cut to the chase,” And another, “ let’s just go straight for Elena!” Lee growls. Not out of protectiveness for the girl but due to the fact Damon is actually planning to fuck up Katherine’s one chance of freedom. 

“Not happening,” She grits out just as there’s the sound of one of her brother’s pushing the other. 

“Stop it!” Stefan yells out. She’s at the main roundabout. 

“Imagine what her blood tastes like,” Damon yells back. “I can.” 

“I said stop!” Right as she’s about to open the front door, her brothers come flying out the window of Stefan’s room. But Stefan lands alone. 

“So dramatic…” Lee moves to help her groaning brother up, “You just had to give into him.”

“He wouldn’t stop,” Stefan weakly argues.

“He never does,” Lee sighs.

“He is right here.” Both turn to find Damon leaning on the hedges, “Hello, little sister. I wondered when you’d join the party. Though I did think you’d still be playing medic for a little longer.” He takes her in, “Ohhh, new tattoo.” He motions to the tiger half sleeve. “Fitting, if not a little overly feminine for you.” 

“Brother,” Lee looks him up and down, “You seem to be just as psychotic as ever.”

“Thank you, I do try.” Damon plays along. He looks over at Stefan once more, “I was impressed. I give it a six.” He pretends to debate that rating, “Missing style, but I was pleasantly surprised. Very good with the whole face--” And Damon’s childish antics begin as he does an over the top reenactment of Stefan. Lee groans and rolls her neck back to not attack him. “--thing. It was good.” Damon laughs, eyeing their sister. “Want to see what you get? I’m sure this might be one of the few things you can do better than Stefan.” 

Lee’s lips curl, her veins rising under her eyes, and fangs descending, “Why n--” Stefan grabs her as she goes to take a step toward the eldest Salvatore.

“Now who’s giving in?” Damon takes a step forward, ready for her.

Stefan tightens his grip on Lee’s arm, “You know, it’s all fun and games, Damon, huh?” This time Stefan steps closer to him, “But wherever you go, people die.” 

Damon doesn’t see his point, a shrug of his shoulders, “That’s a given.” He peers over at Lee, “He knows we’re vampires right?”

“Not here.” Stefan makes sure Damon’s attention goes back to him. He knows if Damon and Lee start fighting, one will die. “I won’t allow it.”

Lee does facepalm at that, “Saint Stefan…” She mutters. Right now she needs some extremely strong alcohol.

“I take that as an invitation,” Of course, he does. You never tell Damon what to do. You either make something seem like his own idea or you tell him to do the opposite of what you want, just so he does what you want. 

“Damon, please!” Lee looks up at the stars before moving to the hedges herself to lean against them, arms crossed over her chest. How many times does this conversation have to happen? “After all these years, can’t we just give it a rest?”

“Nope,” Lee comments more to herself, the p popping. 

Damon points toward Lee, “She’s right.” The words are almost like he has no choice but to agree, faux sympathy on his face. “I promised you an eternity of misery, so I’m just keeping my word. Because that’s what Salvatore’s do right?” Damon takes a few steps toward Stefan. “I wouldn’t be much of a big brother if I didn’t.” 

“Just stay away from Elena!” Stefan demands. Lee laughs humorlessly. There’s no chance in hell of Damon doing that.

“But Lee can?” Damon asks. “How unfair.” There’s a pout on his lips that turns to mock concern, “Where’s your ring?” Both Lee and Stefan look down to his hand where the ring should be. “Oh,” He fakes being so troubled by this, “Yeah. Sun’s coming up in a couple of hours, and, poof, ashes to ashes.”

“Smooth, Damon.” She’s actually impressed and it shows in her tone.

“Thank you, give me at least an eight?” Damon gives her a Cheshire grin.

“Mmm...seven and a half.” Lee shrugs. “Perfect execution but giving yourself away? I would have let him realize it on his own. But you always did love the attention.”

“What can I say? I’m a little attention w-”

“Where is it?” Stefan breaks up their antics.

“Relax! So up tight,” Damon steps forward, “It’s right here,” The ring sits in the palm of his hand. It’s a trap bigger than anything else. Lee stands up straighter, Stefan hesitantly takes the ring while his eyes study Damon’s. He slips it back on.

Just like that Damon’s hand is on Stefan’s neck, face contorted to their true selves. “Damon!” Lee warns just as said brother throws the middle one over the drive to hit above the garage. 

“Stay out of this or you’ll be next,” Damon threatens, already moving to be above Stefan, “You should know better than to think you’re stronger than me. You lost that fight when you stopped feeding on people,” Damon doesn’t touch Stefan, his words enough to remind their middle brother of his place. “I wouldn’t try it again.” 

Watching them, all Lee can see is the older brother who tormented her when they were human. Silently, she moves up behind him. She grips Damon by his own neck, turning him and pinning him against the garage. The rage inside her making her stronger, “And you, dear brother, would do well to remember I am not that young girl afraid to speak or act out against you. Those days ended long ago. You can put Stefan in his place,” Damon tries to break her grip, Lee holds him steady, lifting him up more. “But you would be wise not to try me. Unlike Stefan, I really don’t care if you live or die. Are we clear?”

She can see the gears in his head turning, to fight or agree. Damon studies her eyes before tapping her hand twice, Lee only releases him when she’s sure he knows she’s being serious. She takes a step back and offers Stefan her hand to pull him up. Damon rubs at his neck. All three look toward the house as they hear movement inside before the front door unlocks. “I think we woke Zach up.” Damon mutters, the smirk back on his lips. He walks past them toward the door, “Sorry, Zach.”

Lee helps steady Stefan, “The difference between me giving into his taunts and you? I can handle him. You can’t Stefan. No matter how much you wish you could.”

“I know,” Stefan groans, accepting the help. “About earlier---”

“Which part?” They slowly make their way toward the door.

“You being like Damon, I’m sorry.” Stefan stops them so he can make sure their eyes are connected. “I am glad you’re here.”

-----

Lee toweled off her hair walking out of the attached bathroom into her room. She’d gotten Vicki’s blood off of herself and her tank while in the shower. The vampire was now in comfortable clothes for the evening; a pair of black and maroon sweatpants with a matching sports bra and socks.  Her attention is on the phone in her free hand as she tosses the towel onto the back of her desk chair, finger hovering over the call button. Katherine’s information on her screen. She’s going to have to hide this phone soon in fear of Damon getting his hands onto it. 

She knows both brother’s have left the house once again, it’d be the perfect time to call her. Lee looks up to make sure her bedroom door is shut and hit’s call. 

“I’m glad you answered, I made a jerk move. I’m sorry.” 

[embcrry]

ok thisss took wayyy longer than i’d expected . like it’s fucking midnight ? like guys im such a mess omfg . anywaysss * tana mongeau vc “ welcome to my trash bin daught or welcome back to my trash bin daughter ... what ? was ? that ? idfk . if you wanna plot with my overly tired ass give this post a like and i’ll love you down i promise !! also i apologize for how long this intro is going to be in advance !

new york’s very own  𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐄 " 𝐄𝐌𝐌𝐀 " 𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 was spotted on broadway street in 𝘓𝘖𝘜𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛𝘐𝘕 𝘌𝘓𝘖𝘐𝘚𝘌 𝘉𝘖𝘖𝘛𝘚  . your resemblance to barbara palvin is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃  birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being guarded , but also dependable  . i guess being a 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be  𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘶𝘱, 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘯 + 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴  .  &  ( female & she/her  )  +  ( faith , 21 , she/her , est . )

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

FULL NAME : emilie sierra berry . NICKNAME : emma , em , emma bear ( by her little sister ) . BIRTH DATE : march 1st , 1998 . AGE : 22 . GENDER : female ( cis ) . PRONOUNS : she + her . ORIENTATION :  pansexual ( attractions are equal ) , panromantic ( leans more toward women ) . BIRTH PLACE : brisbane , australia ( see home here ) . the family still owns this house but don’t use it much . HOMETOWN : new york city ( upper west side ) , new york ( see home here ) . her dad + little sister still live here today . CURRENT LOCATION : new york city ( upper east side ) , new york ( see home here ) . moved in one year ago after break up . EDUCATION LEVEL : highschool diploma .   OCCUPATION : olympic swimmer ( emulated after katie ledecky ) , socialite , escort ( no one knows ) . NET WORTH : 32million ( every year up until she’s twenty five she receives a percentage of her trust fund ) . FAMILY NET WORTH : 3.1billion ( father ) , 4.8billion ( mother + step - father ) . PARENTS : adrian berry ( father , 51 , hedge fund manager ) , natasha laffont ( mother , 48 , former super model + philanthropist ) , thomas laffont ( step - father , 50 ,  businessman + art collector ) . SIBLINGS : tatiana berry ( sister , 10 , student + ballet dancer ) , bradley laffont ( step-brother , 24 , new york rangers player ) . PETS : jagger ( ragdoll cat , picture ) , maggie ( pomeranian - husky , picture ) . NATIONALITY : australian - american . ETHNICITY : hungarian . CLOTHING STYLE : expensive yet casual ; alot of black , hoodies , leather is a staple , high end sneakers , boots , colorful suits . JEWELRY : gold ; dangly earring , cartier bracelet , tiffany rings , barbell nipple piercings. DIET : pescitarian , no dairy ( lactose intolerant ) . WORK OUT HABITS : six times a week ( mostly boxing + swimming  ) . PERSONALITY : guarded ; there is nothing emma hates more than talking about her feelings or letting anyone know who she’s feeling , she has trouble trusting people for good reason ( the girls trust issues have trust issues yall ) + dependable ; if you need anything in the world go to emma she will move mountains to get shit down for you , she’s very punctual , and super disciplined probably due to being an olympian + goofy ; she doesn’t take much too seriously tbh , ( similar to joey + phoebe from friends ) she can be a bit of a space cadet and that always ends in her making everyone laugh + stubborn ; one thing is for sure about emma she’s extremely hard headed , loves getting her way , and is incredibly unforgiving . 

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 ( in bullets )

her parents met during college , where they both attended princeton university . natasha , her mom , was in the middle of her modeling career completely blowing up while adrian was already setting the foundation of his investment company . they had a whirlwind romance and were married just a year after adrian graduated from princeton . both coming from old money , emma’s grandparents on both sides are extremely meticulous about the image of their family + so the same mentality was instilled in adrian + natasha .

 emma spent the first nine years of her life in brisbane , australia . her parents had moved out to australia just a couple years before she was born for the sake of making her father’s company an international success . 

with her parents always off doing something , emma was raised by her nanny + butler . when she was six she expressed her desire to get into swimming after watching michael phelps in the 2004 summer olympics . she was in absolute awe by him + wanted to be just like him . so the next day her nanny spoke to her parents and later that day she was enrolled into a local swimming program .

when she was nine her parents broke the news to her that they were moving to new york . at first she wasn’t all too mad about the move , she didn’t have many friends in school , wasn’t a big fan of her teachers , and knew the one thing she loved she could still do in new york . her outlook on the move changed when she found out that her nanny + butler would not be making the move across the equator with them though . how dare her parents steal the only people who’d ever taken care of her away from her ? she thought . she threw an absolute fit in protest ; completely wrecking the home + locking herself away in the bathroom in her room for nearly 20 hours before her nanny talked her into coming out . 

once in new york , emma was miserable . she had tantrums everyday and even stopped swimming for a few months . what inevitably pulled her out of her funk was a trip disneyland paris + her mom bringing her out to buy a whole new wardrobe . yall ever heard of a spoiled brat ?

once she was open to the idea of new york she kind of fell in love with the city , to be honest . she grew close to her new nanny + butler , of course and fell in love with her new swimming coach .

when she was fourteen her parents got a divorce and just six months later her mom was married to a billionaire living in connecticut with a son just two years older than emma . anyone with a brain could put together that her mom had been cheating on her dad , that was except for her dad who’d fallen into denial that his ex - wife would come back . 

[ trigger warning : alcoholism , child abuse , violence ] after months of listening to her father , emma broke , the two got in a huge screaming match about how her mom wasn’t coming back saying things like “this is so pathetic, stop graveling over a women who doesn’t want you” + “she doesn’t want you” + “just move on, she’s never coming back, she’s fucking an art collector in connecticut”. mind you she’s fourteen talking to her dad like this , yikes . he started spiraling after that , drinking heavily , doing coke more than just at events , and when emma copped an attitude he’d hit her . it started with just a rough slap , pushing her into the pool or down the stairs , and then it turned into punching her . it got so bad her coach started noticing during swim practices and inevitably threatened her dad , either he let her move in with him or he’d call the police . so , not wanting a tarnished reputation , her dad sent her off to live with her swim coach .

[ trigger warning : grooming ] life with her swim coach was cool , she got to swim alot more plus he was extremely high profile due to sending swimmers to the olympics as well acting in a few movies so she got to go to alot of events with him all across the world . she enjoyed her time with him more than she’d enjoyed the entirety of her life and then he got her to the 2012 olympics in london + her trust and appreciation for him sky rocketed . in her eyes no one int he world could or did love her more .

coming back from the olympics , her had fully sobered up and was ready to bring emma back home .  her and her coach weren’t completely gun ho for the move but she inevitably moved back home with her father .

[ trigger warning : statutory rape ] just a month after being back home , her coach started being a little too touchy with her . she felt uncomfortable by his advances but figured her was only taking care of her . then he kissed her and she was pretty creeped out so she asked what he was doing , basically the creep told her he was just missing her alot because she wasn’t living with him and reminded her about how he was really the only person who cared about her . she accepted what he said and soon after they started sleeping together regularly . he didn’t even have to tell her not to tell anyone , she innately knew if she ever told anyone he wouldn’t be her coach anymore and emma just wasn’t willing to lose the best coach she’d ever had . this continued for a little over a year until she went to the doctors and her mom went with her , her mom stayed in the room because the check up wasn’t all that invasive + then when her doctor asked her if she was sexually active her mom answered no but emma , not wanting to lie , stayed silent . she inevitably confessed at the appointment that she was sexually active . her mom freaked out and wanted to know who but of course emma didn’t spill that . she inevitably lied and said some guy she went to school with . within a week her mom found out she lied and refused to let emma go anywhere until she confessed who she was sleeping with . knowing her mom wouldn’t let up she told her it was her coach + that it wasn’t a big deal . but emma knew it was . her mom gave her coach an ultimatum he either quit coaching for good or she’d turn him in . she he quit and emma never heard from him again . 

she stopped talking to her more directly after that + stopped going back to connecticut for the weekends like she had been since her parents divorce . she was now sixteen without a swimming coach + completely mad at the world .  she’d had a rough few years , to say the least . she turned to partying , HEAVY , to cope with it all . she slept with anyone who so much as gave her a second look she didn’t care if they were older than her , had a girlfriend / boyfriend , if you were into her you could have her . it took her almost five months before she committed to a swim coach + they really whipped her back into shape . no more partying , emma went from school to practice and then home . it was awfully boring for the new party girl but she had one of the best coaches in the world + they promised to stop coaching her had she not listened to their every word . the only thing she cared more about then letting loose was going to another olympics . 

she attended a private school in manhattan where she completely smashed each and everyone of the school, districts , and state records in swimming . she was never big into her academics but she upheld a b average for the sake of being able to stay on the schools swimming team . if she received anything less than a b she would guilt her dad into giving her school a donation so they’d give her the grade she felt she deserved . 

she graduated from highschool in 2016 and although she was accepted into multiple schools across the nation , with athletic full ride offers from each school  , but she inevitably declined each school because she did want to spend another second behind a desk . knowing her dad would never approve of her not going to college , with his ivy league education ass , she lied to him and said she was attending nyu . 

she went to the 2016 olympics in rio and completely dominated ( 4 gold medals , 1 silver + breaking five world/olympic/american records in the meets ) . 

just months in 2017 her dad started to pick up on her lie about attending college . telling her she needed to enroll immediately or he’d cut her off . calling his bluff she didn’t enroll . she quickly learned that he wasn’t bluffing when he completely cut her off , telling her she had a month to find a place to live and move out .  

thanks to her olympics money + her endorsements with tyr sports + adidas she had enough money to get an apartment but her saving would deplete quick so she knew she needed to do something to make alot of money + quick .

desperate and running out of time emma joined seeking arrangements under an alias as sierra meyers . there were a few success and plenty of total blunders on the site but she got lucky with the first women she met with who offered to get her into escorting . emma didn’t even give it a second thought before she said yes , the only thing she asked is that the clientele not want her to attend highly publicized events with her as she's quickly get caught due to her socialite status   . 

within a year she’d made half of what her entire lifes work had made her , she grew obsessed with escorting and what made it crazy was there were people who would pay her half a million just to have dinner and talk with her . of course , those were the unicorns though because most wanted to sleep with her at the end of the night . 

when she turned twenty one her dad gave in and gave her back her blackcard + even offered to move her back into the house , she took the credit card but decided to continue living outside of his walls . 

she could’ve quit escorting right then and there , but she’d grown an addiction if you will to her work . there was something about the secrecy of it + her ability to make millions so easily that kept her going .

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

former roommate ; these two moved in together after her dad kicked her out + even though she moved in with someone else months after they signed the lease she payed them for her half of the rent for the rest of the lease , ex ; they dated when she was cut off by her dad + they inevitably moved into together they could of had a rocky or really good relationship by broke up around this time last year , the guy she “ lost “ her virginity to ; he didn’t actually take her virginity , in truth these two could very well have never even slept together but he’s the guy she lied to her about sleeping with to cover up sleeping with her coach he found out about her lie when emma’s mom asked his parents if he was sleeping with emma we can decide where things went from there between these two , suspicious friend ; they’re starting to pick up on her random disappearing + secrecy , maybe they start following her at some point and inevitably confront her about escorting or maybe they think she’s doing something else and accuse her of that ? , first girlfriend , more exes , people she’s slept with , someone who she slept with + they had a significant other , fellow olympians , travel buddy , podcast co-host ; these two came up with an idea recently to start a podcast , they haven't released it just yet but it’d be similar to call her daddy / impulsive !

[itsblissfuloblivion]

Torch - Chapter 4: December

A/N: We are on time!  Lots of holiday hi-jinks and Harry coming to terms with some feelings and stuff in his life.  Hope you enjoy!

Love,

@fightfortherightsofhouseelves

&

@gryffindormischief

Also on FF and Ao3

Torch: a Hinny canon compliant multi-chaptered fic featuring HBP missing moments. Updates every first day of every month, from September 2019 to August 2020.

____

December roars in like a lion, harsh and unrelenting with gusting winds and ever growing snowdrifts that seem to hedge the castle’s inhabitants inside either by impassibility or impossibility . The wind chill dipped low enough that Harry nearly didn’t try to sneak out for a fly, but even as he did Filch and Madam Hooch each caught Harry on his path to the pitch. Still, he did duck their attention and sneak past the courtyard beneath his cloak.

And yet, the moment his boots crunched in the snow, Harry felt as if the cold, blustering wind chapped nearly every inch of his body, exposed or not. Disappointed and somewhat damp, Harry trooped back indoors and did his best to vanish his puddling tracks to avoid detection as well as detention. Harry feels like a bit of a ponce for laughing at his own joke but honestly he’s begun to reach the point where he can’t deny himself simple, dull pleasures when the majority of his existence feels like one self-denial after the next.

The most glaring of which, is an increasingly uncomfortable pang ringing through his chest every time he sees the swish of Ginny’s robes, his lungs draw in a breath of her scent, or she says something brilliant and cheeky. Hell, sometimes he’s sitting in the humid greenhouses listening to Professor Sprout warn them about some venomous, bloodsucking, carnivorous something or other and Harry’s mind wanders to the slant of Ginny’s smile or the delightful peal of her laughter.

And then Ron will pass him a note or just let out a snort in his sleep and Harry feels the chain of responsibility to his best mate tighten around his heart.

It wouldn’t be a betrayal in the classic sense. But risking Ron, the Weasleys, Hermione - and even Ginny herself - for the possibility of returned... feelings or whatever seems like a gamble he can’t take. Not when everything good in his life seems like it hangs from one delicate thread.

Now, as he sits across from Ron in the common room, each half-assing the chapter questions to prepare them for the next day’s Potions lesson, Harry shoves all thoughts of Ginny down low and deep so they settle like lead in his stomach. At least it feels like he can breathe again.

Which is for the best, since his Lavender-free Ron time is low and half the time when he does get it there’s some related drama that manages to worm its way in.

So when they’re nearing the end of their problem sets - with the Prince’s assist - Harry decides to take full advantage and grabs the community chess board. “How’d you like to wipe the floor with me in a game?”

Ron frowns thoughtfully. “I can always tutor you, Harry,” and then a hint of mischief teases his lips, “You’re not a total dunce.”

Kicking his shin beneath the table, Harry shoves their books and other detrius aside, settling the board on the table with a dull thud and the clatter of loose pieces.

Considering this is a community board, it’s remarkable how many pieces have remained intact and actually with the board. Plus, it’s an unspoken rule that if a student finds the board with missing pieces they are obligated to fill the empty place with something creative and magically enhanced.

Overall, they’ve just got mismatched bits from other boards and one intricate Origami-type knight that flits about the board rather than sliding like the rest.

Harry and Ron volley the first few rounds back and forth quickly, and almost as quickly Harry loses two pawns and Ron commands his full army like a proud general.

The fire crackles warmly in the grate as they continue game-play with no losses and Ron gradually enacts what Harry’s almost certain will be his undoing. It’s an odd thing because on one hand, Harry hates to lose and on the other, watching Ron in action is a sight to behold. Although the casual ‘tips’ that really sound more like taunts are going to earn him some itching powder in his sheets.

Harry’s just finally taken one pawn and from the gleam in Ron’s eye fallen right into the trap set for him, when the sickly sweet scent of Lavender’s perfume engulfs the table.

And though Ron’s hormone induced googly eyes have cleared somewhat since that fateful victory party, he still abandons Harry mid-game with promises to resume.

Leaving Harry positive that the itch powder plot will definitely be unleashed and wondering whether this is how relationships go .

It’s not that he doesn’t understand the infatuation, he wishes he didn’t to be honest, but to be so wrapped up - and to let someone be so wrapped up.

Not that it’s Lavender’s fault, but could it be right to be with someone who doesn’t recognize how important your mates are? To let someone take so much of your sense that you alienate one and ditch the other at the drop of a hat?

He doesn’t begrudge Ron fun, or a life outside of him and Hermione, but things should fit not drive a wedge. At least in Harry’s mind.

His dream girlfriend would fit in right alongside them all, bust his arse and tease Ron, love Hermione and give her a run for her money. She would - well perhaps further detail isn’t the best considering his train of thought gets narrower and narrower and it begins to become clear that his dream, his ideal, is very real and very unattainable.

____

The days until December 20, when the Slug Club Christmas Party will be upon Harry and his frail nerves (and probably so will jolly Professor Slughorn), resemble a maze filled with booby traps to Harry. In this particular case, the booby traps are laid by fellow Gryffindor Romilda Vane, by his best mates’ quarreling, by Ron snogging Lavender ostentatiously all over Hogwarts, and of course by Draco plotting his sneaky plots in full liberty because no one would simply listen .

By December 20, at precisely eight in the evening, Romilda Vane’s tried to push spiked gillywater on him, offered him probably love potion infested Chocolate Cauldrons, if what Hermione’s heard in the girls’ bathroom is correct. Hermione herself announced she’s attending the party with that McLaggen buffoon so loud that she might as well have shouted from the Astronomy Tower while Ron morphed into the pettiest version of himself by laughing at Hermione in class leaving Luna of all people as the one to comfort her back in the girls’ bathroom again.

So many things happening in that bathroom, so many stupid feelings Harry really doesn’t want to deal with.

Therefore he sends everything to hell and surprises himself by inviting Luna to the party, as friends. At least she’s a decent human being, doesn’t giggle absurdly, and is genuinely kind. At least he has that.

And the Prince. Yeah, the Prince helps more than his real life friends most of these days.

Forlorn and sighing, Harry nearly confesses his loneliness and despair to Hedwig since both friends aren’t available and Ginny’s...probably getting ready for her date with Dean Thomas. He hasn’t asked, but by now Harry’s fairly certain she’s bound to go with Dean to the Slug Club party, dance with Dean, kiss Dean.

With another sigh, Harry checks the time: 7:50 PM. Time to go.

As he enters the theatrically adorned chamber next to Luna, a crowd of girls glowering in their wake, his eyes scan the space for hints of red hair. Instead, he finds Hermione looking harassed and dishevelled, in a hurry to escape McLaggen’s less than desirable presence and attentions. He’d really love to confront her with a most heartfelt I told you so , but he’s got more pressing matters on his plate at the moment. Such as why isn’t Ginny at the party, is she alright, what did that berk do to her and also why is that slimy git Malfoy sneaking in? Isn’t he supposed to have known Slughorn since he was in nappies or some such?

If he’d ever be asked to recount what happened after Malfoy’s impromptu appearance, he’d only be able to say what he’d been saying for the past four months: that Draco Malfoy is up to something. Which apparently is not enough for anybody because the situation is as stale as before. Malfoy is indeed up to something, Snape is helping him and the world is closing its eyes and ears and letting it happen. Brilliant.

As he drags his feet back to the Common Room, Harry’s mind buzzing with the latest information, he still has half a hope that the Fat Lady will swing aside to let him in and there’ll be Ginny, alone in the armchair by the fire, studying or maybe even taking a moment to relax in spite of the ever looming OWLs.

But there’s no one waiting for him behind the portrait door and no fire in the hearth. Just the Common Room, drafty and chill, motionless and deadly quiet in the dark.

There’s no Dean either in their shared bedroom. No Ron and no Seamus. Only Neville, lightly snoring from beneath his sheets.

Perhaps they’ve all gone to a party of their own.

Perhaps they’re happy and laughing and don’t need him anymore.

Perhaps...it’s time he sleeps. After all, they’ll be leaving Hogwarts soon and there’s so much he needs to do before he boards the train.

Harry sighs, hugs the pillow closer to his chest and closes his eyes.

The train trundles over the tracks that slice through the Scottish countryside, dark against the blanket of snow continually refreshed by flurries slowly drifting from the clouds overhead.

Harry’s tried more than a few times to close his eyes for a brief rest, only to be jostled either nearly to the floor or so that his forehead slams against the chilled glass window. Even if he could find a comfortable position, his mind is still whirring with the details of Snape and Malfoy’s conversation. It had been just vague enough that no one was going to believe him. At least not enough to actually do something with the information. Nevermind that Malfoy had bashed Harry’s nose in and left him for dead or at least for severe discomfort and intense inconvenience. Harry was apparently reading into things, imagining the odd conversations and even stranger behavior, and Malfoy meanwhile was a bloody Prefect.

Honestly, it’s reached the point where it feels as if his life has no point. He tries and searches and puts himself in danger and still each year it’s a random series of events that he can’t plan or prepare for that lead to near death or - well in the worst cases there have been deaths. And for all Harry’s targeted by Voldemort and his supporters, it never feels like he’s earned the distinction by doing anything but somehow managing to stay alive.

He’s just let his forehead thud against the glass again, the cool pane easing the ever-present ache of his scar, when the compartment door slides open.

Harry’s hoping for Ron, sans Lavender and his recent bad attitude, but finds another Weasley studying him curiously.

“Hey, Gin.”

She blinks. “What’s with the face, sad man?”

Slumping lower in his seat, Harry props his legs on the opposite bench and sighs. “I just feel - do you ever - ”

He can’t quite work out the words to explain himself, not without sounding like a wingy baby or giving Ginny a dangerous amount of information. When he glances up, Ginny’s still eyeing him speculatively.

“You haven’t narrowed things down much with those little fragments,” Ginny says, lips kicking up in a wry half smile.

“It just feels like, year after year, I’m left with these huge decisions and responsibilities and people die and it’s my fault. And still no one ever believes me when I tell them shite is about to go down.”

Ginny pauses a moment before perching on the bench opposite him and smoothing her school robes. “I think - well I suppose the first thing I should like to address is the fact that none of this is ever your fault, Harry.”

Her eyes are watery and her voice is low and full of fire as she continues, gaze pinned to her dark tights. “Riddle, he - he does what he wants, when he wants, and you’re one of the far too few people who’ve recognized him for what he is and done something about it. Not sitting around the wireless and having a good long chat. You’re - you’re always out in the thick of things and risking your stupid, noble neck and if idiots like Skeeter or anyone else have shite to say about you well then - “

One angry tear escapes down her cheek, though her jaw is set firm. “Then they’ll have me to answer to, yeah?”

She chuckles darkly and shrugs, “As for nobody believing you, I’d suggest lessons from Lockhart but I suppose that’s not really feasible, eh?”

“He was fairly expert winning converts.”

There’s a pause and quiet settles between them while the Hogwarts Express rattles through the snow before Ginny rises and pats Harry’s knee. “For what it’s worth, I’m always in your corner.”

“I could be a complete nutter.”

“You haven’t been wrong yet,” Ginny says with a shrug as she grips the door handle, “Except about that weird moustache attempt at the start of October. Not good.”

Harry flushes. “Ron is a pranking arsehole.”

“Sure,” Ginny winks.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Harry manages a somewhat strangled goodbye. “Have a uh - nice time with Dean.”

Ginny’s mouth opens and closes around nothing before she smiles, almost forced seeming. “Sure. See you at home then.”

____

Like Hogwarts, the Burrow has always given Harry a very at home feeling. The smell of a fresh, steaming meal cooked with love and care, the lilt of so many laughs shared between the cramped little house’s inhabitants, the paper chains and fairy lights Ginny likes to put up every Christmas, everything gives Harry the feeling that he’s welcomed and safe.

Hermione’s presence is the only missing element to Harry, mostly in the moments they usually spent in the room beneath the attic. He can picture every detail, Hermione sitting cross legged on one of the beds, a book on her lap, Ron and Harry daring each other to another round of Exploding Snap or simply laughing - probably because Fleur said something equally snotty and funny while Mrs Weasley nearly combusted and Bill looked lovingly at his bride to be.

But Hermione isn’t here and Ron and her aren’t talking anymore. Harry doesn’t want to complain, Ron’s his best mate and all, but Lavender just gifted him a ghastly Won-Won locket for Christmas and if Ron’s too daft to put a stop to this then someone really should.

In all fairness, Kreacher’s maggots aren’t that appalling right now.

Or maybe they are and Harry’s just a bit sour that his best mate and his girlfriend are gross, who knows.

Still, when Harry lightly jokes about this with Ginny because he can’t really help himself and he’s long since stopped denying himself the simple pleasure of...conversing with her (and perhaps peeking to see if Dean’s sent her anything for Christmas - a failed mission, Ginny’s much too careful and private), her only reaction is:

“Don’t you dare knock some sense into him. This is too entertaining to stop so soon.”

And the mischievous grin on her face as she says it is what truly does Harry in: he accepts that he either blurts out his feelings or combusts from the pressure of keeping everything mashed up inside his chest.

Thankfully, it’s Bill who saves him from something that could have easily become Harry’s single most embarrassing memory by calling them both to help with Christmas dinner preparations.

Ginny marches down with a roll of her eyes and a snide comment, while Harry feels lighter somehow and so very thankful.

Before he steps out of the living room however Bill’s hand falls steady on his shoulder.

“Don’t take too long,” he says, looking Harry in the eye for a beat.

Harry’s left to wonder what to say, if he intended to convey what Harry thinks he did, and finally how did he guess...

It’s funny how other people can read your heart in an instant when it takes you months to even begin to realise. Life’s funny like that. Harry’s life at least.

When Harry reaches the cosy dinner party, he’s pushed in a chair between Fleur and Ron, the latter’s mouth already full with what seems to be a bite of what each platter has to offer. The table’s an impressive blend between mouth-watering smells and the clatter of forks and knives, the hearth crackling invitingly in the background, the room lit with candles upon candles perched on lampads serenely floating by magic.

Turkey, roast potatoes, stuffing, pigs in blankets, Yorkshire Pudding, gravy, Brussel sprouts, cranberry sauce, Christmas pudding, and mince pies, all garnish the Weasley family table as the wireless plays lowly (sans Celestina Warbeck tonight) and they eat and talk and feel merry.

“Is Hermione not joining us, dear?” Mrs Weasley asks the room at large although, to Harry, her question seems pointed.

Ron coughs briefly into his plate, grunts something akin to a “No” as Ginny takes her time rolling her eyes for a dramatic effect.

“She was - er, busy,” Harry half-asses an excuse as he generously dips another bite of turkey into a nice serving of gravy.

“What I’d give to be sixteen again and starting a relationship,” Mrs Weasley chuckles, her eyes glazed over, mind already down memory lane.

“What would you give, Molly dear?” Mr Weasley teases.

“Oh, I don’t know, but remember the thrill of seeing each other in Hogsmeade, Arthur? Nothing compared to those weekends. Ah, so lovely being young and in love,” she smiles, rising to bring another plate full of steaming hot turkey.

And perhaps it’s not just Harry who notices the ill looking shade on Ron’s face and that his fork hasn’t scooped any bites for a good couple of minutes.

“How’re things with that Dean Thomas guy, little sis?” Bill changes the topic, casually asking over the dinner table and Harry can swear he’d seen him wink in his general direction.

Ginny simply shrugs, “None of your business.”

“Now come on, Ginny,” Fred grins.

“We’re only looking after you, as responsible big brothers,” George continues.

“No need,” she drawls between two spoonfuls of pudding.

“We heard he’s a good flyer,” George pipes up, grinning dangerously.

“But does he have any other qualities?” Fred wiggles his eyebrows.

Ginny pauses, looks them both in the eyes and mutters, “Plenty.”

To be completely honest, Harry was expecting a furtive glance or maybe a different answer - perhaps a merge between “He’s a terrible kisser” and “I’ve dumped him.”

Instead a simple word, plenty , is what makes his food come back with haste and it takes all his willpower to fight it back. Plenty.

He’s now joined Ron in the ill looking, besotted fools’ corner, unable to eat another bite because suddenly everything tastes like bleach down his throat. Always together like the best mates they are, eh.

Plenty .

And it all goes further down spiralling at lightning speed when Percy, as pompous as ever, trots in importantly, the Minister at his tails.

Harry can’t recall exactly when everybody’s retreated to their rooms, Mrs Weasley a mess of tears and hiccups, Mr Weasley looking broken hearted and all their children feeling angry and ready to throw a punch up Percy’s nose. Hell, Harry feels the same and him and Percy aren’t even related.

The following five days leading up to the New Year are somewhat tamer, freestyle Quidditch (Christmas themed), listening to Bill and Fleur swap stories from Egypt and France, and Exploding Snap tournaments with a Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes twist included. Learning about Veelas and curse breaking amongst century old mummies of former pharaohs is more interesting than Harry’d ever guessed and he can’t help but think that both Bill and Fleur might fit better in an Indiana Jones movie than crammed in a small cottage in Devon.

Which is a slightly peculiar thought considering he himself has always hated the spotlight but somehow some of the Weasleys seem to belong there, to dazzle, to impress effortlessly.

Ginny, for instance, she’s...a superb flyer. She’d belong nowhere better than on a pitch, kicking arse and smart-mouthing everyone around her, wild red hair flying all over, impish smile widely flashing.

Ginny. Unwillingly he’d found himself around her a great deal more since that little “plenty” thing. As if she’s sought him again and again, as if to show him that perhaps she didn’t mean it like it sounded.

But then again why wouldn’t she? Dean is her boyfriend, as Harry’d been so bluntly reminded not five days before.

Still, whenever he does find a cosy spot on the couch, there’s Ginny next to him. At the table, his elbow bumps into hers as they eat, exchanging looks and jokes unspoken. Before bed, her eyes linger just a second longer, her fingers fiddling, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

And as they celebrate the New Year - ah, Harry believes he needs a good old crowbar over the head because she’s beautiful, her deep brown eyes filled with sparks and colours as the fireworks crash and collide in the night sky, and he’s insane enough to stand next to her. He’s such a fool.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

She looks up at him, eyes big and waiting.

Seven.

Six.

His heart beats faster.

Five.

Four.

Three.

“Harry…”

Two.

“Would you...?”

One.

Her hands clasp at the back of his neck, her temple flush against his chest, against that heart that can’t stop beating and he sits there like a sad, sad fool as Ginny slowly dips her head to look him in the eyes.

She’s impossibly beautiful, flowery scent intoxicating his brain.

“Harry, do you promise me?”

He has no idea what she’s asking him to promise, but he is completely certain he’d even promise her the moon if only she’d ask for it.

“What we talked about on our way home. On the train.”

What they talked about…? Oh.

“Promise you’ll stay away from danger this year, that you’ll fight that noble impulse of yours? Bugger Malfoy or Snape or anyone else, just stay safe, Harry, please,” she whispers, arms still around him and Harry hopes she’d hold him like that forever.

Forever only lasts a second and not more sometimes because as soon as he nods, she’s gone with another glance full to the brink with something so intense and yet with absolutely nothing.

Happy New Year, Harry. You’re still all alone and very lonely.

[mercutial]

A More Wholesome Take on Victor Vallakovich

Hey guys! I hadn't found any deeper interpretations that made Victor out to be particularly wholesome, so here's the version I'm using in my campaign.

I've read u/guildsbounty's post on Victor, and while I love it because it fits in so well with the gothic horror themes, my party had already become friendly with Victor and he had already been established as a mild-mannered guy who didn't really have an aversion to people in general, mostly just timidity.

I've borrowed elements from u/MandyMod's fleshed out version of the Vallakovich household - the parts about Vargas and Lydia neglecting Victor emotionally for pretty much his entire life.

Background

Vargas has avoided contact with Victor out of fear of being abusive like his own father was to him, and Lydia is no more than a brainwashed peanut. They don’t really bother socializing him with people outside of the household either... so Victor has been deprived of healthy human relationships. To pass the time, he read all of the books in his father’s library, which were mostly old histories and a few on philosophy, passed down from his great-grandfather. 

Cats

In lieu of human relationships, Victor has always loved cats. Cats are the closest thing he's had to companionship. He understands their need for space, their fickleness, and he loves it when he can finally earn their affection.

His first cat he found as a stray kitten and named it Twinkle, because as a child he read a book that talked about stars in the night sky, and how they “twinkled”. Being a Barovian, he had never seen a clear night sky before. So he named his cat after the sight he wished he could see, out in the free and open world beyond the mists.

However, Twinkle met an untimely end. (You can decide whether this is caused by the Wachter boys, either accidentally or intentionally, or if Twinkle was killed by an accident or rabid dog or something.) Victor was devastated. He refused to bury Twinkle, keeping the cat’s decaying body in a chest in his room until a maid noticed the smell and freaked out, prompting his parents to make him bury Twinkle in the garden. Later he went and dug up the grave in secret and took the body back to the attic. He never buried it, even after the body rotted away, leaving only the skeleton, which he kept hidden in an old toy chest.

He had read in a book somewhere of a mage who had been able to raise animals and people from the dead. Surely that was possible? Some of the travelers who came through Vallaki from were capable of magic. Driven by the promise of possibilities, he acquired spellbooks and books about magery, scouring them for knowledge. His two focuses: magic to raise the dead, and teleportation out of Barovia.

Magic

Eventually through numerous trials and errors, he figured out how to perform simple raisings. Despite the fact that Twinkle was now a mere skeleton, when Victor attempted to raise Twinkle, it was an undeniable success. The little feline skeleton picked itself up off the ground, turned to face him, and rubbed up against his leg just as it had always done. He was overjoyed.

His teleportation experiments weren’t so successful, however. The incomplete diagrams that he had acquired were not enough for him to complete a working teleportation circle. No matter what he did, the countless circles he drew in chalk, in ashes, in blood all remained inert.

Stella

Around a year and a half before the campaign started, Lady Wachter began to push her agenda of attempting to wed Stella to Victor, likely due to her husband’s recent death. Victor and Stella had met a few times in the past, but neither had really been made to interact. But now Lady Wachter began bringing Stella over for tea, “accidentally” bumping into Victor the few times he was out and about, and insisting that she and the Vallakoviches leave the two alone to talk on their own.

At first, Victor was resistant to the forced interactions. He had always been shy around people, and occasionally mocked or at least stared at, and so always tried to limit his time with other people as much as possible. But for whatever reason, Stella seemed to take a genuine interest in him. She was a cheerful and polite person, and her well-mannered inquiries into Victor’s daily life and activities grew on him over time. When eventually asked about why he spent so much time indoors in the attic, he dropped his hedging and timidly hinted at his “experiments”. 

To his surprise, she wasn’t put off. In fact, when he admitted that he wanted to find a way to cross the mists, Stella’s eyes grew wide in fascination. Uncharacteristically, she immediately began bombarding him with more questions about what he was doing, how he was doing it, what he had tried. Flustered, he offered to show her.

And so the two of them began to work together on the experiments in earnest. After swearing her to secrecy, Victor brought Stella up to speed on everything he had found – not difficult as she proved to be a quick learner. Lady Wachter and the Vallakoviches were curious at first as to why their children were spending so much time together, but the Vallakoviches quickly lost interest, and Fiona decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Soon it felt to Victor as if progress had more than doubled; Stella’s fresh inquiries and perspective revealed a couple of the faulty assumptions that Victor had subconsciously incorporated into his calculations.

Then at last, a breakthrough! One day, one of their circles came to life and zapped a test mouse away. However, Victor and Stella soon realized there was still some kind of issue with the circle. The various inanimate objects and mice that they zapped through only came back in pieces, and even then only occasionally came back at all. 

The two didn’t give up, however. At this point, several months into their pursuit, they were not only energized by their recent successes, but had also grown close. Perhaps, Victor hoped, as real friends… or perhaps even something more?

He had never really felt this close to anyone before – not his parents, not the servants, and certainly not the other townspeople. In contrast he found himself actually wanting to see Stella again, looking forward to hearing her lively voice, seeing her bright smile at the front door. He had always suspected that the love spoken of in his history books and novels might have a basis in reality, but he had never really felt it to be true until now. His parents’ loveless mess of a marriage, built upon the farce of a happy town they had created, had never come close to the ideal. But what he felt when he saw Stella… perhaps that was what the books meant. And perhaps the shining looks she gave him, the smiles and knowing winks they traded in their parents’ presence, the little inside jokes they had started to develop… perhaps that meant she felt the same way.

They had also begun to open up about things other than their experiments. He learned what she thought of her family – her concerns about her mother, her loving but somewhat antagonistic relationship with her jokester brothers. And he poured out his heart about his parents – how he wondered, after all he’d read in his books, whether something could have been different between him and them.

At one point they made several modifications to their most recent iteration of the teleportation circle. They were no longer receiving body parts of unfortunate mice and rats in return, but they were also fairly certain that the bodies weren’t being vaporized. Perhaps, perhaps they were really sending them elsewhere? But there was no good way to tell. Unless…

The Accident

Stella offered to send herself through the circle. Victor objected vehemently. Hadn’t she seen what happened to some of the things they sent through? It was their first full-scale argument, and it ended in tears and Stella storming back to her house.

Later that night, Victor was awakened by a sound on the stairs. He made it quietly to the door just in time to see someone slipping into the attic. Following, he discovered the intruder was Stella – activating the teleportation circle and stepping into it.

It all happened so quickly. One moment Stella was setting foot into the circle, the next thing Victor saw a blur of fur and realized one of his cats had darted into it as well… and then a flash of light blinded him.

In hindsight, it was lucky that Stella hadn’t been shredded to pieces, sent far away, or ended up with cat-like features or fur. But her mental state was just about as impossible to explain, and Victor was in no state to explain it. Lady Wachter was furious. She immediately took Stella home and locked her away while threatening the Vallakoviches with all manner of consequences she could safely threaten, and all Victor could do was watch miserably, numbly, in utter shame. Couldn’t he have stopped her if he’d just been a little faster? If he hadn’t lingered on the stairs? He should have known, he should have kept the attic door locked. In fact, he never should have introduced her to magic.

Victor had always been reclusive, but after the incident, he often shut himself away for days on end. Tray after tray of uneaten food sat by his door.

Eventually he went back to his attic and his books, but with a new objective in mind: restoring Stella Wachter.

During the Campaign

Stella is the only person who has ever shown that she truly likes Victor. He would feel numb about his parents dying, but if Stella died, he would probably lose all will to live. So she’s basically all he has left. If the party befriends him, he’ll likely ask them to help him find a scroll of Greater Restoration and/or someone who can cast it on Stella (e.g. Rictavio.)

However, even if the party manages to free Stella and find a scroll/caster, Victor will be nervous about restoring her to sanity. He’s afraid that she’ll be angry and blame him for her condition, and she’ll end up hating him… like everyone else in his life. To that end, he’s unsure if he should have someone perform a Greater Restoration on her at all.

And the way Stella is now (if she’s freed and gets to spend time with Victor), at least she’s very affectionate with him. She likes him a lot and wants to be with him all the time. If her sanity was restored, would she still feel that way? He doubts that. Why would anyone like him so much anyway?

Somewhere in the pit of his heart he feels that her former affection towards him was a fluke, or worse, fake. He knows that keeping her from being restored is selfish, but he also justifies it by arguing that it’s far crueler to force someone to understand the bleak world than it is to have them live in blissful ignorance. He feels that she’s probably happier being the way she is now. He feels like he would be. 

–––––

So that’s it! Hope this was an interesting take on Victor and gives you a few ideas for how to run him in your campaigns. In mine, it led to an interesting (though a little frustrating) roleplaying scenario between Victor and the party when he started getting cold feet about using Greater Restoration on Stella. Let me know if there’s anything you want me to expand on!