#fed the migraines too much paint. they are too powerful now

[octania]

Obi Akitaru x Reader (NSFW,18+)

This is a commission I did for the sweet @super-spooder​. I appreciate her support in this way greatly and I was so happy that she liked it and she gave me her permission to redo the fic in a “Reader” version. I hope you enjoy it. :)

Word count: 6.7k

Warnings: coworkers falling in love,public sex, dirty talk, creampie,

Short description: You are company’s 8 doctor, and you set your eyes for your captain. You tried to run from your feelings but did not know that the same problem is shattering Captain’s Akitaru heart, who will not stop until he has you in his arms.

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The light shone softly along her irises. I had never seen them up close like this before, because if I had, I wouldn't have stepped away. Nothing divided us anymore, there was nothing between us, not even the air, because I could no longer restrain myself. I will take the opportunity to the end, because maybe I will never get a chance like this again. She spoke once more, I would swear I heard the same thing the first time, but it seemed so unreal, I had to hear it once more. 

“I don’t care about nothing but you. I will risk everything, I am sure of it, just to be with you. ”- the words came from (Y/N) soft lips, that seemed sweet like honey. Now I will finally be able to taste them, she gave me her permission, my feelings did not travel down a one-way road after all.

Obi gasped closer to her lovely face, his hands desperately grabbing at her waist as lungs grabbed the air. At last the facade of false denial cracked and he could set free what he had tried in vain to bury within himself. But the image of (Y/N)’s angelic face began to crack, blurring like turbulent water, letting an unpleasant light cover his vision.

He blinked. Once, twice, absorbing the feeling of rough sheets beneath his half-naked body. The faded wall once again replaced the reflection of his deepest desires, he once more became a slave to his dreams and awoke in the shackles of reality. His jaw clenched, he pulled the covers timidly, turning angrily on his stomach. His eyes were accustomed to the dark and awkward picture of reality, but his heart raced at the thought of returning to a world without her. That is, even worse, the world with her close but  he cannot reach for her, he must not…

His fingers ached from the convulsive grip with which he held the sheets. He reached for her, little by little, ignoring the obstacles that clearly stood there, but something was shutting  him down. She? He could have sworn the blush on her face streaked across her cheeks every time he gave her a restrained lovely word or praise, but why then run away from him after every time she gave him a smile? Why does her voice crack or stutter every time he is close to her or talks to her a little longer? If the truth is so fatal and she does not see him as he sees her?

 In the night when she gets lonely, I wonder does she ever think about me?

The need to be her consolation, her support and the only body touching hers rose in his chest like a powerful storm. Anger and need, longing and pain mingled. It was his weakness from the moment she walked through the door of Company 8. If he had known how much his heart would be devoured by the cold teeth of loneliness, he would have forwarded her employment papers to Company 1. Maybe then he could finally approach her at the level of a human being and not a superior, he would not be burdened by a business relationship, and he would not have to choose what is appropriate and what is not.

 Like it matters?

 As if that would stop him if he only knew she shared his longing.It didn't stop him now, because he had been trying for months. It started innocent at first, from the first day he saw her through the window, approaching their company. How the wind played with the strands of her  hair, how the light shines on the color of her eyes, how she holds herself proudly but still with two feet on the ground. He remembers staring longingly at the young woman. Surprise and adrenaline rushed through his veins as she turned off the street toward the main gate of their building. Just a few seconds later, a couple of light bangs echoed through the hallway as she knocked. He couldn't move, he was mesmerized and confused. He couldn't even get himself to stand when she appeared before his eyes again. Maki cheerfully escorted her to his office.“Here she is! Captain Akitaru, this is our new doctor! ” - she said excitedly, smiling in a welcoming manner to the young woman who had arrived.Her steps were graceful. A dark gray tunic fell over her hips, while her long legs barely gave Obi the opportunity to unglue his eyes from them. She held out her small hand, speaking in a voice that dwells in his most intimate dreams to this day . "My name is (Y/N), it is a pleasure to meet you captain Akitaru." No, he was wrong. He knew from the first moment how much her presence would cost him, but he would not trade his suffering for anything, he would never send her away.     

                       *                       *                         * 

"I will not tell you again lieutenant Hinawa, your eating habits have to change." – (Y/N) anxiously measured lieutenant’s pressure, while at the same time her eyes shifted along the result papers she had just received.

“The food you are consuming has a low fiber and vitamin value, and you push your body to the extreme limits on the missions and working overtime as well. It affects your health, and from your blood results I can clearly see you lack magnesium which explains your migraines, thiamine which is to blame for your sore muscles, and biotin which raises your cholesterol!”-  her voice rose for a few octaves as she read the blood results.

She dropped the pressure gauge on the table unsatisfactorily, forcing Lieutenant Hinawa, who is otherwise known for his icy gaze and stony expression, to be ashamed of his actions. She took a deep breath, her voice now sounding more worried like mother's.

 "I know you work a lot, but you have to take care of yourself. I will prescribe you a couple of vitamins in tablets to improve your state a bit, but you must urgently include the list of foods that I will compile for you in your diet. I don't want your condition to get worse. ”- the devotion she felt for the members of the company could be compared to the mother's instinct when defending her young. She took their health not only seriously, not only as an obligation, but as her purpose, and she only attributed every omission to herself as a mistake. Hinawa lowered his head and squeezed his knees with his hands, making a slight bow as a sign of respect and agreement.

 “Yes doctor (Y/N). I apologize.” - He said humbly like a scolded child. "Hay, you don't have to apologize to me, I just want you to take care of yourself… because if you don't, I will have you force fed carrots and apples, washing it down with orange juice." - she giggled, handing him the prescription. A restrained smile of gratitude appeared on the lieutenant's face as he picked up the prescription, rising from his chair, bowing once more deeply before heading for the door. In the solitude of her office, (Y/N) arched her back against the plastic chair and tilted her head back, closing her eyes. She massaged her tired eyelids with her fingers, thinking how hypocritical it is to scold others about caring for their own health when she is much worse than them. This was her third night that she barely slept, because she was overworking herself.

For breakfast, she had two large cups of coffee with a ton of sugar and a couple of dry crackers, which really wouldn’t even have been a part of her meal if her stomach hadn’t rustled sadly and betrayed her condition.

“So, how is our lieutenant doing? I saw his list of recommended fruits and vegetables, and it really goes forever. ”- a deep male voice made (Y/N) jump out of her chair, almost having a heart attack. She opened her eyes in wonder as she scanned the room for the source of the voice, squeezing her T-shirt on her chest from shock. Her already jumpy heart from the surprise, only pounded even harder against her rib cage when she saw two delicate irises, colored like the whiskey through which the sunlight is shining.

 “Captain Akitaru! I didn’t hear you coming in. ” - she leaned on her legs, nervously fixing the white lab coat on her hips. He shrugged his broad shoulders as he watched her with a calm expression on his face, a gentle smile flickering on his lips. She could feel her cheeks begin to fire up, the air escaping from her lungs and making her breathe faster. She wrapped one arm around her waist, repeating endlessly in her head to calm down. This was happening more and more often.

Her anxiety would come to the surface every time Obi was next to her. Previously, she had managed to cover the corners of her lips, which without her permission automatically curled into a shy smile every time he looked at her. She would bite her lip, clear her throat, and look away. But now, a fleeting smile was the least of the problems. The treacherous red colors constantly painted her face, her pulse exceeded the limits of normal, her tongue twisted and she stammered if she had to talk to him for too long. Shame flooded the inside of her chest as the thought she so desperately wanted to bury pierced the surface, like a flower in growth and spread its petals of truth.

She liked him. She liked him more then she could ever admit or allow to herself.

When she first felt that her devotion and sympathy for the captain transcended the boundaries of respect and turned into something more intimate and personal, for the first time she took a day off. She felt guilty, caged inside something where there was no real way out to freedom, she could only hide along with her secret. All day she pondered the events that had brought her to the brink and pushed her into the abyss of these hidden feelings. She was convinced that the captain's affection for everyone was the same, and when he brought her coffee, asked her about her day, was always there to help her, it was the same thing he would do for anyone else in their company circle, and then she allowed herself to distort his intentions and began to view him as something more than a superior. Like a man. A handsome man with a heart of gold, a look that made her knees shake, shoulders as wide as if he carried the whole weight of the world on them, and a courage that could only be seen in sci-fi superhero movies. From that point on, she began to avoid him, as smoothly and painlessly as she could. She couldn't look him in the eye, she couldn't allow herself to see his gestures as anything more than mere decency.

How blind she really was.

She came to work earlier than anyone, just to keep the hallways empty so she could sneak like a ghost to her office. She went home last, doing the impossible jobs that made her sleepy head fall to the table and force her to sleep for an hour from exhaustion. But somehow that didn't work either. She began to see him in the craziest hours of the morning, while dawn was barely breaking through the dark clouds, sitting in his office from which the door was always open, a gesture showing that anyone could always come in for help or advice, greeting her warmly, beginning even an innocent conversation with her, but she would hastily answer a few words and disappear down the hall. As she went home at a time when the big yellow moon was already standing proudly in the starry sky, she could see his tired face under the lamp of a desk scanning papers or worse, hear the pounding of iron bars coming from their private gym that was literally placed in front of her office. She had to go that way, she had to, there was no other way out. At least she thought so until she tried to sneak out of her office on tiptoe, tapping her black shoes as softly as she could, praying to Sol that her dark clothes would blend in with the shadows in the hallway. But she was wrong.

 Obi’s eyes were like hawks, patiently waiting for the prey to make a move. He had been working out tirelessly for two hours, staying after everyone but her. He knew she would come out last, and that would give him a chance to catch her alone. Maybe that changes something. Maybe if they are alone, something will be different after all.

“(Y/N) I thought you left. ”- an innocent lie. His strong arms lowering the weights next to the bench. Drops of sweat ran down his broad neck over his back. His undershirt clung to his pronounced muscles as if he had just come out of the water. Abs like carved from the stone, moving in waves as he caught his breath.

“C-captain Ak-guitar, I-I..I was just leaving. I am sorry if I disturbed you. ” - as if hypnotized, she followed his wide torso as he approached. His gasps intoxicated her innocent ears, reminding her of the way men breathe when they fuc…..

She couldn't even finish the thought, her lips trembled, there was a hurricane in her head, when her legs rushed down the hall. She could hear his voice echoing down the walls of the hallway, calling to her and asking if everything was okay, but she couldn't stop, she couldn't look at him. Her eyes filled with tears at her weakness. It was the last day she thought the only way out through the door was possible.

 She wanted to make her escape possible at all costs, so the idea of ​​going out or coming in through the window no longer seemed insane at all. She was sneaking behind the building in the early morning, coming to her office window on the ground floor, which she had left open last night, when she ran home through it in the same way as a thief would in the late hours of the night. But even that solution didn't last long, when she made a mistake and didn't look at which cars were packed in the driveway of Company 8. Truth be told, she didn't even blame herself, fatigue squeezed her like a parasite, and her concentration in the morning was zero. She was already halfway up the window, barely dragging her gear with one hand behind her, when she heard a familiar voice.

“Doctor? What in the Sol’s name are you doing? ” - Vulcan watched with his emerald eyes in amazement as (Y/N) barely held on to the window frame, almost falling down on her head when Vulcan called to her.

“Vulcan! Oh I..I .. ”- she turned her head in panic, her cheeks red as a ripe apple.

“I forgot my keys! Yes. I forgot my keys and I didn’t know that there was someone here. ” - she awkwardly shifted inside the building, accidentally dropping equipment that fell under the window.

"Oh. Well you should have knocked, Captain Obi was already in, he could have let you in.”- said Vulcan collecting (Y/N)’s things and slowly adding them to her. 

Of course he is there… ..that is why I am here, making a fool out of myself…

 "Silly me, I guess I need some rest after all." - she scratched the back of her head nervously, bowing to the young man out of gratitude, trying to close the window as soon as possible.

“But..how come the window is open? Is it broken? ” -Vulcan said before (Y/N) closed the window.

 “No! Um..I guess I forgot the close it the night before. ”- she delved deeper into her excuses, realizing more and more how big a problem she is struggling with.

"Don't worry, I'll tell Shinra and Arthur to check every window from now on to make sure they're closed when we leave." - he said with a hearty smile, turning and waving goodbye. She followed him with her eyes for a bit with a sad look of defeat. This was her last idea of ​​how to sneak in and out of the building, and it is now a thing of the past. She would have to face the captain again. A crystal tear danced in the corner of her eye as a rush of emotion passed through her being. She felt cornered, and the only thought that just crossed her mind didn't help. Her heart craved solace, and her brain created the only scenario that could provide it, and that was Obi’s long arms wrapped around her fragile shoulders, hugging her and whispering in her ear that everything was fine and that he was there now. She shook her head as if trying to push that scene as far as she could, opening her eyes. 

No… no… this is not right..I can’t… 

After that day, she decided to deal with her problem head on. Well, at least in some way. She sucked in the raging waves of her desire and tried to keep the encounters with Obi brief, more professional than usual, and above all, public. Always to be around people. She even started to leave her door wide open when there was no patient in, so if she sees him, someone would always pass in the hallways shortly after, and she would give her best to indulge in a conversation with that person, making them to join the two of them. But now, Obi was in her office alone, and he closed the door behind him.

 He did not say anything, he just kept walking in her direction slowly, his eyes the color of dark honey staring in hers, making her take a few steps back when she bumped in the table behind her.

 "H-hinawa will be ok if he follows the list I made him." - she answered nervously, trying not to stutter, exhaling gratefully when Obi stopped a meter away from her.

“I agree, good nutrition is very important. I would like to hear you professional opinion and advice on it. Maybe..you could show me how to properly eat over a dinner. ” - his voice exuded self-confidence, but he could hear the buzzing in his ears from the pressure as blood flowed rapidly through his body as his heart quickly pumped it.

 She can’t misinterpret this.

He thought as he clenched his fists impatiently inside the pockets of his orange fire pants. But he was wrong. She didn’t have to misinterpreted it, she only has to go back to her endless denial and dodge the bullet.

 Dinner… ..? Did he say… .d..dinner?

She could barely stand on her feet when she realized what he had asked her. She lowered her gaze, her hair covered her face as her teeth sank into her bottom lip. 

Is it possible he wants the same thing as I do? Not! Impossible! Even if he wants to, we can't,… we can't… He is my captain, and I am the doctor of this company.

Her heart was now skipping a beat as the panic attack clawed its way up to her very core. She knew if she looked him in the eyes and tried to speak, her voice would break and her tears would fall. She had to run. She had to get out of here. Without even looking up, she slipped between the chair and the table, dodging Obi in a full circle, not turning back, wanting to reach the door quickly. When she grabbed the doorknob, she could feel a glimmer of relief as she deftly directed an answer to Obi, who stood quietly behind her.

“Of course! That is a great idea! I can show everyone tonight at the party we are having! ”- how she managed to forget about it, about one golden ticket that was now in her hands, party where all the members of Company 8 will be, and they will have dinner together. She didn't let him answer, but flew out of the room as if the devils were chasing her. And she was haunted, the darkest demons of her forbidden desires who were now fed with his inappropriate question.

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This warm summer night in the company garden was different than usual. It was decorated with shiny little lights in various colors, hanging from the high tree branches, balloons being glued to the doors and some of them lying on the floor on top of the glittery confetti. They dragged two wide tables from the conference room, filling them with paper glasses, hard plastic dishware, various appetizers they ordered from the catering a few blocks away, a cake server sinking into an untouched cake, a big bowl of punch, a few beers, sodas, and a box filled with ice mixed with energy drinks.

From all this choices, (Y/N)’s hand instantly reached for the cooled can of energy drink. She snapped the metal opener, bringing the bubbly liquid to her glossy lips. She hummed when she tasted the beverage, enjoying the waking up sensation it brought to her senses. She turned, viewing all of the company members enjoying their time together. This was her first time celebrating the company’s anniversary with them, and she loved it already.

Arthur and Shinra playing like two little kids, throwing balloons at each other screaming in playful rage, Hinawa picking the vegetables from the metal plates filled with food, honoring his word to the doctor, the girls giggling and commenting how Vulcan is trying his best to tie his tie but keeps falling, blushing and turning so they can’t see, but they just keep fallowing the poor guy around and innocently teasing him. Only one person was missing. She felt a cold sting of panic traveling along her spine. Pushing down the unpleasant feeling, she closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying to convince herself that everything will be just fine. She practiced this at home, for the love of Sol, for hours. After this morning and her talk with Obi, she made her best move in denial yet. Deciding that over thinking it as always will only bring more harm, so she decided to brush it off as a misunderstanding. He must have thought the same thing, the dinner party tonight. That was all she allowed herself to conclude, exhaling slowly and feeling the relaxation take over. But then she opened her eyes, and her heart started racing once more.

 Wearing his official captain’s uniform which consisted of a blue jacket with his medals, a white shirt and a dark blue tie underneath the jacket, and neatly ironed pants with a matching color. His broad shoulders looked even bigger under this fancy clothing, his biceps that did not appreciate being covered stretching the materiel to its limits, and his muscular chest standing even more out under that white shirt.

(Y/N) knew her cheeks were rosy already, as she swallowed the saliva that accumulated in her mouth, trying to calm her hands from shaking and greet the captain properly. She tried to bow, but a warm feeling on her shoulder that was exposed because of her strapless cocktail dress and a firm but gentile pressure made her stand back up straight. Obi’s palm was now resting on her delicate skin, not moving it even after he made his point about No need to bow thing.

 “(Y/N)..you look..lovely.”- he said every word slowly, carefully, like he himself is trying to get accustomed to them. He wanted to say so much more, but even with his new born bravery and dedication of accepting how he feels about her, he knew they were not alone and from what he gathered, (Y/N) only got more agitated when he tried to approach her in front other members. When they are alone, she runs, but when others are around, she is clearly upset. He pulled his hand back, hating the feeling of removing his skin from hers.

“Thank you Captain.”- she said restrainedly, again lowering her gaze, searching for the coverage of her hair falling over her face. She was trying to think of a way to end this conversation fast, excuse herself and go away to find safety by talking to someone else, but before she could muster any good ideas, Obi’s body got closer, almost towering over her. She rose her eyes quickly, widening them in shock as her eyes were locked on his, his face now inches away. Everything happened almost in slow motion, in her head this lasted for hours, when it was only for a brief moment, when he leaned, brushing his chest on her arm, reaching for a cup of punch on the table behind her. She did not even notice what he was actually doing, the closeness was too much for her. Her anxiety was through the roof, her breath shallow, and her mind blank when his enchanting perfume intoxicated her senses. All alarms in her head started screaming and echoing in her head, her feet shivering as she choked on her own whines. How weak he made her, how insanely fragile to his presence. She could not bear it, this fight in a ring can only be won by one and it is always him. She needed to escape once again, as her eyes filled with tears.

“Excuse me.”- a muffled sound escaped her lips as she rushed past him, dodging the gaze of everyone in the garden and walking as fast as she could to the bathroom. 

 She splashed cold water on her flustered face. The pea-sized drops rushed down her cheek to her neck, as (Y/N) shivered under the icy feeling.  Her hands gripped the edge of the sink, as the salty tears now combined with water on her skin, mildly covering her real state. This got out of hand, she knew it from the moment she started to giggle and feel butterflies in her stomach every time he spoke to her. She should have dealt with it right then and there, not let it go so far that she can’t stand being around him no more. Nothing stings harder than forbidden love, and at least now she can admit it to herself, speak plainly in her own mind. She will have to quit, leave this place and these people she already considered family behind just to spare them of her unprofessional behavior and her betrayal, falling for a man that is her commander.   

This is how it is meant to be…there is nothing I can do about it no more…it is written in the stars..

She could swear in that moment her heart broke in half. She could feel the meat of the muscle that gives you life slowly splitting in the middle. 

“Why do you always run away?”- a deep whisper echoed the on the bathroom tiles.  In that voice pain was hearable, deepness of the emotion that was buried somewhere for too long. (Y/N) turned just to face him once again, but this time she had no strength for pretending, she just turned her head to hide her tears and said in a whiny voice:

“Please Captain, I want to be alone.”- seeing her like this made Obi almost lose the ground under his feet. His protective instinct made him rush to her, but just before his reaching hand touched her, he stopped, realizing that his sudden movements made this to happen. He tried but never actually said it out load, to be clear. He took a deep breath, fighting the need to wrap his hands around her fragile body and hold her tight until the first morning light comes, shows her how he wants to be the one who protect her from harm, not the one causing it. 

“The truth is, I am not feeling well lately..so I need your help.” – hearing this words from him made something in (Y/N) to snap.  Her doctor side drilled its way up to the surface and concern for his well being took the lead. She turned, facing him with her cheeks painted with dark stains of her mascara.

“What happened? Are you in pain? When did it start?”- she started to check him with her eyes, looking for some kind of a injury, but there was nothing.

“You can’t see it from outside..It started 10 months ago, one morning, and I’ve been worse ever since. I’ve been distracted, and I can’t do it no more.”- he said clenching his fists. Her vision got blurry from the tears still being in there, but they did not fall. She listened, squeezing her lips in a straight line. 

“I am in love with you, (Y/N). From the moment you took a turn on the street and walked in our company.” – his tensed muscles suddenly relaxed, like a huge weight have been lifted of his shoulders.

 “I need to know do you feel the same, because I can’t stand to see you dodging me with any chance you got. Don’t think I did not notice. If you don’t want me, I will sto…”

“It is not that I don’t want it! I just..We..we can’t..”- her voice shattering like glass, barely managing to finish her sentences.

 “Why?! Why do you think we can’t?”- Obi tried to stay calm, but being unable to hold her close, and hearing that she feels the same way but is denying it , got him close to the edge.

 “Because you are my captain, and I am your subordinate! It is unethical! No one would understand!”- she screamed, unleashing the suffering she held inside, the opinion that tortured her, the fear of the judgment from others.

 “So?! That are only useless titles! Worthless positions!”- he took one step closer unnoticed, slowly  narrowing the space between them.

 “No one would approve…I am not the one for you.”- she sniffled, trying to wipe away the rolling tears with a shaking hand, again crumbling under the feeling of a breaking heart.

“Because you are the one for me, I am willing to risk everything else. I don’t care if I have to resign, I don’t care what people would say…only thing I do care about it you.”- this time he knew it was not a dream, and there is nothing that could hold him back now. His hands landed on her thin waist, pulling her on him. She gasped as she crashed on his chest, feeling so small and fragile under him. 

“Capt..”- her words have been shushed when his lips crashed on hers. The hungry mouth kissed her like she was his food and water and he was walking starved in the desert for decades. (Y/N) had her eyes half opened, looking how angelic face holds the expression of relief and happiness, the feelings that now consumed him when he finally tasted his forbidden fruit. His soft lips shifted on hers, opening them slowly as his tongue started to explore her mouth, finding hers and traveling along its surface, starting an erotic dance between their mouths. She let herself go, feeling how her feet became numb, her body screaming for him and wants to pull his huge one closer like a magnet. His wide palms shifted along her waist, squeezing it, exploring her shape along her back and down to her hips, sinking his fingers in the tender flesh.

“O-obi.”- she moaned between kisses, sinking her nails in his chest, feeling how adrenaline flows through her, giving herself to him to the fullest. His hands sifted a bit more, cupping her ass and lifting her up on the sink, opening her legs with his knee and shattering the space between them once more and he pushed himself on her.

“I want you (Y/N). I need you.” – he whispered, kissing her jaw, licking his way down to her collarbone. She moaned his name wrapping her thighs around him. His fingers found their way to the zipper of her dress along her ribs, pushing it down slowly. But before he lowered it, he tilted his head up, gazing at her, looking for permission. She blinked with her dark lashes, as she nodded , biting her lip. He gripped her with more force, barely controlling his wild desire. He bit the materiel of her cocktail dress, pulling it down from her bust. A dark lace bra without stripes held her tits with little force, making them almost fall out without him even touching them, but he did not plan to wait for that to happen. He unbuckled the buckle in the middle, releasing her breasts.

 Seeing her big soft flesh bare in front of him made his hardened member swell a bit more. He placed her delicate nipple between his teeth ,pulling slowly then mending it with his kiss and tongue, while the other breast was squeezed with his hand. He played with the doughy flesh, making his fingers skin deep in and his grip got harder, placing the nipple between his fingers and pinching it, making (Y/N) to cry out his name while he was working both of her nipples with his talent.

She tasted good as she smelled. The minty scent  filled his nostrils, making him inhale more deeply to catch every bit of it. The sensitive nipples were somehow sweet, brushing against the smooth surface of his tongue. He sucked harder, lifting the other one he had in his hand and pulling the delicate spot in the same time as he bit the other nipple. (Y/N) felt her juices soaking her black thong, how her fingers intertwined with his dark brown hair , pulling him closer, wanting him to devour her more. But he was hungry for something else. Still massaging her breast, he lowered his head down, kissing along her belly while pulling her dress down off her with his free hand. The lower he got, the wider did (Y/N) spread her legs.

Her sexual instinct made her open up for him like a flower bud, giving him access to her most intimate parts. He waste no time, removing the panties to the side, letting the heat of her soaked hole hit his face. He licked his lips on the sight ahead, slowly gathering the icing from her folds with the tip of his tongue. When she felt his tender muscles playing around her pussy, she cried out louder, giving her best to stay at least a bit quiet, but he did not make that job easy. He stuck his tongue deeper between her folds, licking her slit up and down, growling quietly from the satisfaction.

 “You are delicious…much better than how I dreamed you would be..”- he murmured before shoving his tongue inside her, pumping it in as deep as he could reach, while teasing her clit with his index finger, pushing the nerve button tenderly as he fucked her with his tongue, while the juices smeared around his lips.

“D-Don’t say such things…”- she said biting on her knuckles, trying to suppress the lewd sounds coming from her mouth.

 “But you are (Y/N). Your little pussy taste so good. I want to eat it whole.”- he whispered, as his voice sent vibrations along her delicate flesh, making her legs shiver. She could feel the tension building in her stomach, the feeling of sweet release coming closer. He sucked in her pussy lips along with her clit before shoving his tongue back between her velvety walls, returning both of his hand to her tits, pinching her nipples and pulling them hard. Her climax kicked in and she covered her mouth to hide the whiny sound of her orgasm, but Obi was quicker, grabbing her wrists and pulling them off her mouth.

“No. I want to hear you cum (Y/N).”-he twisted her nipple lightly, grabbing the whole breast with it and massaging it in fast motions while he licked her clit, making the electric feeling take over her body as she came and screamed his name as loud as she could. Her head started falling down, but Obi was ready to catch her, picking her up once more and carrying her to the wall. He pinned her bare back on the cold tiles, as the icy feeling against her skin get her a bit more concentrated after that wild orgasm.

 “I will fuck you now baby.”- he pressed his lips on her, as she heard a sound of him unzipping his pants. She did  not even have the chance to see what was coming, when she felt a light sting between her legs. She tried to relax her muscles to make the huge thing come in smoothly, but even that and her juices did not help. Obi’s rock hard length stretched her like nothing before, barely managing to fit in. She buried her head in his muscular shoulder as he continued to slowly push it.

“You are so tight baby..Fuck..”- he forced his way in, enjoying the clenching of her inner walls around his throbbing cock.

 “O-obi …it is too big.”-she gasped for air, feeling overly opened.

  “You are doing great baby..”- he whispered before jerking his hips upward, filling her to the end with his dick. His base hit her folds, as he stand still for a moment to let her get used to his size, then he started moving. Rocking his hips back and forth, harder, making (Y/N) to scratch his back under his shit while she moaned uncontrolably. 

“Damn…you are perfect…you have no idea how many times I imagined this..how long  I waited..”- he gasped his words, hitting hard between her shaky legs, as her lower back slammed on the tiles. He grabbed her ass cheeks and slammed her on his dick while he still drilled his way in, in the same time, lowering his head and starting sucking on her tits, leaving reddish marks all over her bust, sucking the flesh with passion, making his way down to her nipple, just to suck on it as he did on  now swollen places before. 

His thrust became shallow, faster, as he chased his orgasm. His fast hits just made her already overly stimulated clit to send more electric waves along her spine, filling her with another adrenaline rush, going back down to her lower parts and she felt she will cum one more time. The tone of her voice became higher, as she pulled him closer with her thighs. His stone hard biceps tensing as he murmured her name in her ear.

“Fuck..I will..I will cum (Y/N).”- he murmured around her nipple as he slammed wildly in her cunt, making the last hit harder than any before, nailing her to the wall as he filled her with his cum. She felt the warm feeling in the lower part of her belly, knowing how he is pumping her womb with his sperm. He pulled out gently, still holding her on the wall. His seductive smile and gentile eyes now focused on her, brushing his nose on hers.

“Please, never run away from me again. “- he asked, voice filled with emotions.

 “I won’t.”- she said with teary eyes. His soft lips once again found hers, locking this promise and rewriting the faith written in the stars. 

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Love, Maybe? {39}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst

Word Count: 2K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

NOTE: **Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought. 

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 39:  Breakdown

-Vixen-

 After driving for almost two hours, you made it to the airport and through the terminal to get on the next flight back to LA. The fact of the matter was you had work to do and couldn’t go anywhere else. Ella slept on the flight and you just stared out to nowhere. You were in a catatonic state and completely useless. It was the calm before the storm.

Making your way through LAX you didn’t think to try to disguise yourself or hide it hadn’t registered that your entire life had just blown up and you were no longer a private citizen, you were a commodity of the public. The rude awakening came when you were on the escalator holding Ella, your bag and one of hers and a few feet below was a sea of paps. Once it lowered for you to step off it began.

 “Vixen, over here. Vixen. Smile. Care to comment on the story that broke?”

 The snapping of the cameras was everywhere. It didn’t take long for Ella to whine and begin crying. When she did they didn’t stop and respect her, they only continued.

 “Do you think she looks like Chris, Vixen? Did you trap him in Vegas? How did this happen?”

You swallowed the ball in your throat and tried to push through them while holding Ella close. She held on to you fiercely as she bawled her eyes out. The sound of her cries coupled with the vulgarity of the questions a feeling of helplessness bombarded you. 

“Come on Vixen comment for the readers.”

“You’re Chris’ first black woman. No one knew Chris liked black women. We are all shocked. Care to comment on how you snagged him?”

“Trapped him perhaps?”

You couldn’t believe your ears and what they were insinuating. After a few minutes, airport security surrounded you and assisted you in getting out of the swarm and out to a waiting taxi. 

Once inside your primary focus was trying to console Ella. The entire ride she cried and the entire ride you held your shit together for her, but barely. The entire ride all you could think about was keeping your tears in and your breakdown at bay. Ella’s crying was slowly ripping at your soul.  

When the taxi pulled up to the house he helped you with the bags to your door and pulled off. After you walked into the quiet house you stood there and sighed. You could feel despair fill you, again you pushed it away and got upstairs to get Ella in a quick bath. She refused to let you go so you carried her to the kitchen to prepare her a bedtime snack. You fed her and then laid in her bed with her and sang her a lullaby.

 It took a little over an hour for her heavy breaths to normalize and for her grip to slacken on you. Finally able to move you sat up and just watched her. When you walked out, you slowly made it to your room. After closing the door, you just stood there unable to do anything. You walked to your bed, curled up and wept. The power of your sobs shook your bed, and the sounds of your cries filled the room. You buried your face in your pillows hoping to muffle the sounds so you didn’t wake Ella. The last thing you needed was for her to see you crying.

 An hour passed, then two, and three and still you hadn’t stopped crying. It was as if a deep sadness was finally being released and the tension and stress your body held was falling away. You felt a loss you fully understood, a loss you felt three years ago. It was the loss of hope. You’d fallen in love with him yet, again and again, he’d fucked it up. 

You didn’t hear your door open, all you felt were two pairs of arms wrap around you and the familiar scent of your mother and sister filled your nostrils. That busted open the gates of your sorrow and you laid there and cried.

 ~~~~~~~~~

 Four hours later, you were in the same spot doing the same thing. The only difference was you were alone now. Unable to get speech out you just pointed to the door after a few hours and they knew you needed to be alone. You hadn’t moved or spoken, and you didn’t feel like you could. All you could do was cry. You didn’t realize how much you’d held in and now that you were at your capacity everything poured out. You were able to fully experience and pour out all the pain, hurt, sadness and anger you’d tightly bottled over the last three years.

 Your mother and sister occasionally checked on you but Nex knew that you needed to be alone and you’d reemerge in your own time. Thankfully you had them, and they were well versed in handling Ella. The sun rose, you were in your bed with a tear-soaked pillow. The sun began to set, you were still there only on to a new pillow. It was a cycle. You always hated to cry, and you hated what you were doing right now, hated that this is what you were reduced to.

By nightfall, your tears stopped, but your anger returned full force. The more and more you thought about the last day the angrier you got. He’d known about this for weeks. He had every opportunity, but he lied.

 “Technically, he never lied.”

 You closed your eyes and tried to blot out that voice that always liked to emerge when it came to him. The voice that either downplayed something he did or urged you to be more open, let him in. Look at what he did, yet again.

 “To be fair, this isn’t all that different than what you did. Only thing he kept hidden was your marital status, you kept a whole child hidden.”

 Again, you closed your eyes, pressing them shut as hard as you could trying to blot out the sound of your own voice, the sound of the truth that you knew deep down.

 “If you’re going to be this angry about it, then you’re a hypocrite.”

 The voice was right. You were a hypocrite, but right now you didn’t give a flying fuck. He played you. Everything he’d done for the last few weeks had an angle. He manipulated you, minipulated the situation and your feelings.

 “You’re reaching and you know it.”

 Rolling your eyes, you moved for the first time and rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling. The last night with him played in your head, the way he touched you, whispered to you, looked at you, it all felt so real. Once again you’d seen something that wasn’t there, and once again you were the fool for it.

 By the next day, you were able to get up and shower but every few minutes you’d stop what you were doing and just stare out to space being sucked back into yet another memory. You hated it because now you had so many you could be involuntarily pulled into, so many that could cripple you with overwhelming emotion and you couldn’t pick the emotion, it would pick you. You hated feeling emotionally out of control.

 Since seeing Chris again that is all you were, emotionally out of control. Though he said he couldn’t read you and never knew what you were thinking or feeling you felt as if everything you felt, and thought was easily seen.

 By the time you dressed and walked out it was already midday. As you walked out into the living room you tried your best to paste a smile on your face. As soon as you walked in Ella bolted to you.

 “Mama!”

 “Hi princess.” You lifted her in your arms and hugged her tightly. This was all that mattered, you thought.

 “How are you, baby girl? Did you eat?”

 She nodded and played with your hair then your face.

 “What do you wanna do? Paint? Movie?”

 “Paint.” Her eyes lit up and you smiled.

 “Okay, wanna help me get it ready?”

 She nodded. You put her down and the two of you went around the house gathering what you’d need and then put them in the backyard. For the next few hours, you painted with her and enjoyed every bit of her banter. She was the perfect distraction, the only thing you needed.

 A few hours later, you were sitting there just watching her make her sixth masterpiece, a finger painting with an assortment of bright neon colors. You sat there with a glass of wine in your hand just enjoying her.

 “Mama dis foe da-da. He wike it.”

 You took a deep breath and another sip of your wine and tried not to give anything away. This was your first test.

 “Okay.”

 “Wayo da-da?”

 Taking a shaky breath, you spoke. “He has a lot to do today honey. He’ll be by when he can, promise.” The answer seemed to be enough because she nodded and went right back to painting without another mention about him.

 By the time the sun set, you were sitting for dinner with your mom, Nex, and Ella. Conversation was sparse between the adults it was like neither of them wanted to address the big elephant in the room otherwise known as your marriage, the state of things and your future. You were in no hurry to breach any of the topics. While Ella talked you pushed your food around your plate barely getting any in your mouth. You were too lost in your thoughts. You didn’t even realize you were sitting there alone until you looked up and everyone was gone, your plate taken and silence around you.

 Walking around the first floor it was freakishly quiet. You found your phone in your bag and nodded when you saw it was dead. Climbing the steps, you peeked into Ella’s room and she was fast asleep. Once inside your bedroom, you pressed against the door, closed your eyes and took several calming breaths. No matter how you tried you never felt like you could take a full breath in, your chest felt heavy as if that elephant was sitting right there. You lugged across the room and plucked your phone in beside the bed and gave it a few moments before you powered it on.

 Again, you laid back and stared at the ceiling. You still couldn’t believe what was happening. Couldn’t believe that in the span of months your life had changed and weeks it changed even more and now it was the sight of a bombing. Losing yourself in your thoughts nothing registered until you heard incessant vibrating and bell notification sounds. It went off one after the other after the other. Grabbing your phone, you looked at the still vibrating phone and saw how much your life had blown up.

 You’d missed over fifty calls, had almost sixty messages, numerous emails, and things were still coming in. Tapping your calls log, you saw missed calls from each of your friends, your parents, Nex, Kassius, Zack, but the bulk of them were from Chris. Getting out of calls you went to your messages and saw almost thirty messages from Chris and the rest from those in your circle and Franklin from the restaurant. Groaning you sat up and tapped his messages.

 MSG Franklin: We’ve had paparazzi camped outside for hours. They’re making it a nightmare for customers to get in but we’ve had an influx of diners. It’s been crazy.

MSG Franklin: What do I tell them? Do I tell them anything?

MSG Franklin: Should I call the cops?

MSG Franklin: They are NOT going away.

MSG Franklin: Please advise.

 From his messages, it looked like he was losing his shit. Briefly, you scrolled through your messages intentionally ignoring Chris’.

 MSG Drea: HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!!!!!!!! You’re MARRIED!!!!!!!😳🤯

MSG Joan: Wow. Why all the secrecy?🤔

MSG Jia: YAAAAAAAAAAAS BITTTTTTCH. Get 👏🏾that 👏🏾good 👏🏾white dick.🍌🍌🤪

MSG Angi: So you’re a whole wife and mother? Wow, okay I see you Mrs. America’s Ass!!!!😈🥳🙌🏾

If you were in a different state of mind this may have been funny to read but it wasn’t. You couldn’t find the humor of this. Just then a message came in, showing over the screen.

MSG Chris: Vixen, please answer me. I get it I fucked up and I’m sorry. I really am. Let me explain. Please. We can’t leave things like this, not after everything. Please.

 You could hear his voice and it tugged at your heart. You could feel the sting of tears. Quickly you put it on silent and tossed it to the side then laid down hoping to sleep and wake and have this be a nightmare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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[the-colony-roleplay]

Henry Liamson-Turner | Fifty Five;  Elite

House: Calyset Status: Uninfected Elite Specification: International Trade Executive Alignment: New Wave Reformists

History

Yvonne made him a better, stronger man—a fact Henry Liamson-Turner told his wife time and time again, and he swore by it until the day she died. 

Before Yvonne, he’d had little else of value. Little that made him feel anything at all. Henry’s father, Nat Liamson, was a cutthroat business man, spearheading an investment management firm called Liamson & Taylor Investment Group. His mother, Siobhan Turner, a political trophy wife. Growing up, Henry had little in common with either of them, but his father was a manipulative force to be reckoned with, and Henry spent the better part of his life working towards a career in Business Technology. He wasn’t passionate about it, but he was good at it, and the venture set him on a path apart from the family business, while also keeping his father more or less off his back: it was a career that would bring in excellent capital and be good for the family name. It would perhaps even present an opportunity in the future to join forces, which wasn’t something Henry wanted, but if it kept his opinionated father happy and quiet, Henry would let him believe whatever he liked. 

He met Yvonne while getting his Master’s at the University of Melbourne. She took his breath away with her passion, her strong sense of self, her unfailing empathy. An artist, a teacher, a storyteller, she was everything he wasn’t and he admired her for it in bounds. They were married as soon as she graduated—and after a three year engagement, he was sure that their wedding would remain the single best day of his life. As it turned out, the best day of his life was actually that fateful evening two years later, when he came home to find her standing by the door to greet him with tears in her eyes—and a positive pregnancy test in her hand.

The worst day of his life, however, came almost exactly seven months later. 

He wasn’t the same after she died. Though words could not describe how grateful he was that their baby boy survived the complicated delivery, at a scary six weeks premature, Yvonne’s death crippled him. Henry was terrified about raising their son without his wife’s gentle, level-headed touch, and he couldn’t even imagine his life without her in it. 

After that, Felix Tate Turner became his most precious ambition and number one priority in his life. He was determined to give his son everything he deserved out of childhood—which included sending him to the prestigious private school Yvonne had always dreamed of for him, and working overtime to get that promotion so he could afford to pull out all the stops for his son. 

But working as much as he did meant that young Felix spent a lot of time with the Nanny—and though she was lovely, hardworking, and excellent with Fee, it did mean that Henry felt he had a lot of making up to do in terms of time spent with his son. As Felix grew up and showed a natural inclination towards the more domestic disciplines in life, Henry adapted with him. It was actually a delight to see him grow into such a reflection of the mother he’d never met, both in looks and temperament. So he signed Felix up for anything the boy showed an interest in, be it dance, piano or vocal lessons, and he went out of his way to personally teach Fee how to cook, bake—even sew. More than that, he made it his prerogative to attended painting or sculpting or cake decorating classes with him whenever he could.  Whatever Felix wanted, Henry set out not only to do for him, but to do with him. Henry strived to be a part of Felix’s life in a way his own father had never done for him. 

Unfortunately, good intentions are about as much of a guarantee as best laid plans. Because Henry never really bounced back after the trauma of losing his wife. He did not feel he could turn to his family for support, and he was so preoccupied with proving himself, that he never took the time to get the help he so needed. Grief and PTSD compounded with extreme stress and exhaustion from the hours he poured into his work, and it meant that despite how hard he tried, despite the good times he had with his son, there were many more where a ten year old Felix would come downstairs to find his father a sobbing heap, curled up on the kitchen floor. 

Henry’s neglected mental health affected Felix’s life a lot more than Henry was willing to admit. And once he did get that promotion, he began to miss recitals and parent-teacher meetings, forget to pick him up from school or about the promise he’d made to take him to that play he’d been looking forward to for months. Despite his almost overwhelming support when Felix came out to him as gay at around fourteen, none of it was enough. Felix had already learned to create distance from his father in order to protect himself, and Henry no longer knew how to bond or connect with him.

A talented and beautiful boy, Felix’s teenage life took him to exciting places after that, never a dull moment for him as he pursued a career in modelling and music entertainment. Henry supported him every step of the way, in whatever way he knew how and though he never gave up on trying to keep Felix close, it seemed that the harder he tried, the further he drove his son away. 

Henry Today

Henry had been at the Sydney Airport waiting for Felix to arrive when D-Day hit. The following hour was one of the most panicked in his life, because he’d had no way to be sure Felix’s plane had even landed safely. He still remembers with nightmarish detail, seeing the airline status on the screens above his head momentarily flash with a green ‘arrived’—before the entire row of televisions had been blown apart by falling, flaming chaos. For a horrifying moment that had felt like an eternity, he thought those falling rocks had been pieces of Felix’s plane. 

Their reunion remains the most relieved Henry has ever been in his entire life. With a petite, seventeen year old Felix shaking and crying in his arms, Henry now had a reason to bother trying to survive the horror raining down around them. Together they journeyed slowly towards Penrith, where they’d heard lied some refuge from some of the flooding and destruction of the more coastal cities. Eventually, they were welcomed into a group of survivors who’d turned an apartment complex into a safe haven of sorts—many months later, that complex would become Colony 30. 

During the build and rise of the Colony system and their international communications and collaborations, Henry’s business expertise paved the way for him to become one of the original founders and minds behind the inter-colony Cargo and Trade Agreement. For the first time in his life, he was doing work he was truly passionate about. Work that was of the utmost importance, not only for his and his son’s future, but for humanity’s. Together with representatives all over the world, he helped to make the Colony system the growing and prospering framework that it was—right up until the New Wave Reformists took over. 

Henry hadn’t been a difficult person for them to manipulate—his son was his greatest weakness, and with how openly he wore that on his sleeve, he made himself an easy target for the NWRF. They fed right into concerns he’d already harboured for years: whether Felix was safe among the Infected. All these unpredictable Deluded, those desperate and deranged Looters and the erratic behaviour of some of these lost souls wielding power they knew nothing about—power no one knew anything about—it was alarming and precarious territory. And when the Second Falling came about, bringing with it a second wave of Infection cases, he realized that Felix was vulnerable not only to the hands of some dangerous survivors, but also to becoming Infected himself. What if he became Deluded? What if he woke one morning screaming with migraines and pain as so many of the others had, and Henry could do nothing to stop it? 

And so when the NWRF argued their cause and used the threat of his son’s safety as leverage, they had him eating out of their hands in no time. Protecting Felix had always been the single most important thing to him, and so if the Reformists were going to find a way to control the Infections, that was something he wanted to be a part of. Since the NWRF rise, he has continued with his work as a International Trade Executive, and is now also acting as a direct liaison between the Colony Elite systems and the NWRF organization. In late 2162, he requested a transfer to the UK, hoping he might be able to locate his sister-in-law who was living in England at the time of D-Day, which is how he came to be at Colony 22. 

Henry’s position with the NWRF means that he is often putting on a front of strength and resilience with his work—but he is softer by nature than anyone expects of him, and his moments of weakness often come as a surprise to those who’ve not known him for a long time—which, at Col22, is literally everyone. Over the years, the stability of his position has given Henry something to focus on, and necessity allowed for him to regain some of his previously lost self control—but time has not in fact done him the favours he’d hoped it would, in terms of his mental health. He is still emotionally erratic and vulnerable, and though he cares a great deal about his work, liaising with the NWRF is stressful, especially as rebellions and unrest bubble beneath their feet.

Felix too, remains a constant concern—though his son denies it, Henry is fairly certain that Fee is still struggling with an eating disorder he’d developed in his early teenage years, and vain and self-centred as he is, he doesn’t make friends easily. It makes Henry worry even more about the emotional distance between them, because he doesn’t know that Felix will have anyone to go to in times of need. D-Day has arguably brought them closer than they were, but their relationship is far from smooth and despite Henry’s apparently tireless attempts to please his son, Felix is headstrong and difficult, and they bicker frequently. 

RELATED BIOS: FELIX TATE TURNER

OPEN

[tmiquotepage]

SILVER WAR: AN OFFICIALLY UNOFFICIAL FAN FICTION

Description: War has come. Mare, Cal, and the rest of the Rebellion against King Maven have taken the final step and an all out war across the continent ensues. Blood will be drawn on both sides of the fight. But whose side will run dry first? **This is my fan fiction version of what could happen in RQ4. Spoilers for all the previous RQ books!**

One

Mare

I fight the urge to punch yet another wall. Pain radiates from my scarlet-marred knuckles all the way up my arm and my shoulder, not doing anything to dispel the thoughts plaguing my mind.

Cal chose his crown. More than that, he’s chosen it over me. After swearing up and down for months that he didn’t want it, the smallest promise of getting his kingdom back has lured him away from whatever I thought we had. He didn’t choose me. He’ll never choose me.

I wish the thought would hurt more. I wish I could bring myself to cry or scream or even punch the wall one more time. But I don’t have any emotion left. All I have is the twinge of my abused hand and the sense of utter and complete emptiness. Between the battle, and Cal, and everything else that’s happened to me in the past year, I’m simply drained.

“You’re not saying anything,” Farley states plainly, arms crossed over her chest. “Not like any of the Barrows to keep their mouths shut.” Though her face is a mask of disinterest, I’ve known her long enough to recognize the slightest concern in her voice. It should infuriate me, but the lick of anger that shoots through me dies before I even really feel it.

“What am I supposed to say?” I mutter. When I said it in my mind, it came out as a haughty retort. Instead, it comes out flat. The muddy ground slops around my boots as I turn to slink back against the cool rock wall behind me. I can’t meet Farley’s gaze—not right now, not like this—so I cast my gaze down to the battered flesh of my hand.

I poke at one of the dark bruises, nearly black beneath the skin. The pain is biting, but momentary, and I barely have time to wince before it ebbs back into a dull ache. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve fractured a bone or two. Maybe even broken one.

I’m reminded of Gisa’s hand, after that chaotic day in Summerton, what feels like a lifetime ago. Her slim fingers, better suited to sewing than thieving, catching on a Silver’s bag as she tried to rob them. To help me, I recall. To help steal the money Kilorn and I would need to pay Farley to escape conscription. Gisa’s been healed since, as I’m sure I’ll be soon enough. But I don’t think the image of shattering bones and bruise-painted skin afterward will ever be purged from my mind.

“This alliance had to happen, Mare,” Premier Davidson interjects, breaking me from my reverie with his patented calm tone. I meet his impassive gaze with a glare. How dare you lecture me on what had to happen? You don’t know me. You don’t get to talk to me right now. Ignoring the flurry of messages I try to convey through my eyes, Davidson just continues. “With the war in the Lakelands over, the King is finally able to dedicate his time and forces to defeating the Revolution. With a King on our side, the rightful King that Maven helped usurp, we will be more powerful than ever. And with the Reds and Newbloods and Silvers behind him? Tiberias will be undefeatable.”

His name is Cal, I want to snap at the Premier. Tiberias is his father. But the words don’t make it past my lips. I can’t find it in me to fight for him right now.

“Fighting together,” Davidson continues in his placating voice, “we can wipe Archeon off the map, and the boy king along with it.”

Even the thought of Maven cuts through me, sharper than any blade of Evangeline Samos. After all he’s done, the pain he’s caused and the blood he’s spilt, I want nothing more than to storm the capital and separate his twisted head from the rest of his body. I want to display it on a pike for all in the kingdom to see that true evil can be defeated.

But the Premier doesn’t know Cal like I do. He doesn’t know about our conversation, about Cal’s musings on whether or not his brother could be fixed. If, by some miracle, someone could reverse the irreparable damage Elara inflicted on him growing up. Davidson wants Cal and Maven to kill each other. He doesn’t know that Cal, for all his posturing and planning, can never hurt his brother if there is any chance that he doesn’t have to. Even a miniscule chance. Even this fool’s chance.

He believes Cal is a weapon to be wielded. He doesn’t know that Cal will break with the Guard and go his own way the moment his needs aren’t being met. But again, I don’t tell Davidson my thoughts. I’m too exhausted. Instead, I simply shrug at him and drop my gaze. “Whatever.”

To my side, Farley scoffs. Though motherhood has softened her at moments, I can tell she’s getting fed up with my angsty teenager bullshit. I’m surprised she’s tolerated it as long as she has, actually.

The Premier stares at me, awkwardly fidgeting with one hand. His lips work overtime, trying to form words before he can even figure out which he wants to say. In the end, he says nothing, as we are interrupted by subtle whoosh of air as Arezzo appears beside Davidson. Once, I might have jumped at the sudden intrusion. Now, I barely notice. So much time with Shade helped me in that regard.

My gaze falls on the teleporter’s shaking hands and wide eyes as she reaches out and puts a hand on the Premier’s shoulder. Her voice trembles as she speaks. “Sir. You’re needed in Command.”

He furrows a brow, a question forming on his lips. But, before he or anyone else can get a word out, both Arezzo and the Premier disappear. I’m left alone in the street with Farley. Both of us wait a moment before speaking, still processing what’s just happened.

Farley takes a step in the direction from which we’ve come. “Come on. Let’s go see what the fuss is all about. I’ll be damned if the Princeling shuts me out of a meeting now that he’s got his crown back.”

She’s already a good distance away before she realizes I haven’t moved with her. She halts, turning back to me with a questioning gaze. “Mare?”

His crown. His crown. The words swirl in my head incessantly, taunting me, driving me as mad as the boy who currently wears the dreadful crown of fire and flames.

It was easy to label Maven as the evil brother the night he snatched that blasted piece of metal from his father’s still-cooling silverblood. A child driven by a lust for power. Strength. It was easy to make him a villain. But right now, I can only think that Cal may be exactly the same, if not worse. A man promised the throne his whole life, only for his brother to steal it out from under him. He's vengeful. His bloodlust unmatched. If given the chance, would he be a better ruler than Maven? Worse? Or, in the worst of worse possibilities, could he be exactly the same?

“I wish I’d never met him,” I mutter under my breath. I only realize I’ve spoken aloud when Farley cocks her head to the side in confusion.

She crosses her arms again and steps back toward me. “Cal?”

I nod. “Don’t you think about it? How different the world would be if I had never come into the picture?” Maven had asked me something similar one day at Whitefire. The day I’d had the opportunity to drown him in the bath. The day I’d been too weak to end all of this. He’d asked me if I would take it all back. Going to the Palace, losing my brother, causing so much death. My answer had been easy then. No. So what’s changed?

Cal, my mind taunts me. Cal’s changed. I’ve felt true heartbreak, and it somehow hurts more than anything else I’ve endured so far.

Farley shrugs, though I can see her composure slipping. She’s pissed at me for even thinking about this. Join the club. “Dwelling on the past is pointless, Mare. We can’t change what happened. And even if we could, nothing that’s happened is entirely on you. This revolution would have happened with or without you.”

“Maybe,” I acknowledge, leaning my pulsing head back against the wall and shutting my eyes against the beaming sun above. Exhaustion and the migraine poking needles into my brain make my bones feel like nothing more than dead limbs on the winter trees back in the Stilts. “But not with the Newbloods.”

Farley pauses, considering this. To my surprise, she doesn’t argue. “You’re right. We would have built our forces, but never enough. It would have been a bloodbath. Especially for the Reds. Without you, without the Newbloods, no one would have thought any sort of revolution possible.”

Tears prick my eyes, though I don’t know if it’s from sheer emotion, the throb in my head, the biting ache in my hand, or all three working together against me. “Do you ever wonder if maybe it would have been for the best?”

The ugly question hangs stagnant in the air for a moment, neither of us willing to touch it immediately. Eventually, Farley tries. “You don’t mean–”

“I mean,” I cut her off, “that a lot less blood would be running in the streets of Norta, of the entire continent, right now if I’d never gotten that job at the palace. If I’d never gone looking for a way out of conscription.”

Farely bristles at the insinuation. She’s the one who gave us the astronomical price for escaping conscription. I guess in her mind, by blaming that for all our troubles, I’m also blaming her. I’m not, but I don’t get the chance to explain before she’s doling out her words, each sentence like another blow. “If you’d never gone looking, you’d be dead by now. Kilorn too, probably. The boy’s great at fishing and talking, but not exactly fighting. Not to mention the dozens of other Red soldiers, murdered every day on the front lines.”

“Are they any better off now?” I shoot back. “Look around. Blood flows in rivers all around us. It’s everywhere. That’s all I see anymore is blood. We kill them. They kill us in retaliation. It doesn’t even matter where it started anymore. It’s blood for blood for blood for blood until we’re all bled dry. Red and Silver.” I take a breath, recomposing myself. I hadn’t meant to say this much, especially not to Farley. But it’s been a thought dragging on my mind for far longer than I care to admit. “We know the price being paid. But what’s the cost? The real cost?” I open my eyes to look at her. Anger, confusion, and a deep, profound disappointment fight for dominance on her face. “Do we fight to make sure that everyone knows loss equally? So no one goes to sleep at night without fearing to not see the dawn the next morning? You can’t tell me you don’t think about what life would be if I’d never fallen into Queenstrial.”

“I try to focus more on the here and now, the people I’ve sworn to protect and fight for, instead of moping about,” she retorts, her calm façade from earlier quickly melting into nonexistence.

“I’m sorry,” I scoff. “Are you saying that you haven’t noticed that, even after all the bloodshed, we’re headed straight back to square one here? Cal on the throne? Silvers in charge, or completely wiped out. Neither side even considering a happy medium.”

“Mare–”

“No, you know what?” I continue, so far gone, I don’t even care anymore. “Forget all of that. Forget the Reds and the Silvers and the Newbloods for five seconds. Think of yourself. If I’d never met Cal, Shade would be alive.” His name sticks in my throat, but I continue anyway. “Clara would have a father, and you’d be happy, no matter the war’s outcome.” I shrug, shoulders and head growing ever heavier with the headache eating at the base of my skull. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Farley’s contemplative grimace twists into a positively feral snarl, and it is at this moment that I realize how monumentally I have overstepped. She stalks across the street to me, looking like a woman possessed. She pulls me forward by my good arm, so harshly I fear she might dislocate my shoulder, and slaps me clear across the face.

I stifle a gasp as the crack resonates through the empty streets of Corvium. Farley may not be Silver, not a strongarm with muscles of steel, but her blow still sends me staggering backward. I bring my uninjured hand up to my face, the touch cool against the hot blood flowing to the handprint burning on my cheek. When I finally meet her eyes with my own incredulous stare, her lips are set in a thin line and her eyes shoot daggers through me.

“How dare you.” She doesn’t shout. She doesn’t need to. Her quiet, perfect articulation is lethal. “Shade gave his life for this cause. Because that’s who he was. If this particular chain of events hadn’t happened, he’d still probably be dead sooner or later because that’s just who he was. Same as me.” She gestures to the scars on her face, stark in the harsh sunlight. “I wear my scars, even knowing a healer could take them away, even knowing that they’re not the prettiest, because I earned them. Because I am a fighter and, like Shade, I would die for this cause. That’s who I am.”

I gulp, suddenly cotton mouthed. I want to speak, to tell her I understand, that I’m sorry. Where I can’t find the words to interject, Farley seems to steal my diction for herself and continue. “And Cal is taking that crown because it’s who he is. He may be kind, and brilliant, and decent looking. But, stars above, Mare, he’s a Prince. A Silver Prince. It’s who he has always been, whether you’ve forgotten or not. The crown of Norta is what he’s been working for his entire life. It’s his birthright. And as much as you want this to be some pretty little fantasy world where the boy sacrifices everything for the girl, it’s not going to happen. Because Cal knows, in his heart, who he is, Mare.”

She pauses, features softening as the tension in her shoulder seeps from her muscles. She reaches out to touch and I almost flinch, before I realize she’s just reaching for my hand. “I know it hurts right now. It hurts like a bitch, because you really did love him.” Love. I bristle at the word. Of course I loved him. I’d admitted as much to him. But it was so much stranger to hear someone else say it. “But you can’t give up everything about yourself chasing after him. He knows who he is,” she reiterates, squeezing my hand. “But do you know who you are, Mare Barrow?”

No. The answer pops into my head immediately, much to my despair. I am only eighteen years old. I’ve spent the better part of the past year trying to save everyone I care about, and trying to save the world from falling into ruin in the meantime. I’ve trusted people and I’ve been betrayed. I thought I knew people, thought I knew what drove them, only to find out that my instincts could not be more wrong. And now, staring into Farley’s eyes, hearing her question, I wonder if all that pain and confusion is because I don’t know myself at all.

Her words still echo in my mind when a runner dashes around the corner, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he approaches Farley. Not a Newblood, but rather a Red soldier. Judging by the sun embroidered on the sash around his wrist, he’s one of Farley’s men. Well, a boy, really. He can’t be more than sixteen. Farley catches him by the arm as he tries to stop, slipping in the mud. “Coulson,” she acknowledges him. “What’s wrong?”

Coulson coughs, still trying to reign in his breathing. “Command, ma’am.” I think I catch a glimmer of irritation in Farley’s eyes at the moniker, but it’s gone before I can be sure it was anything more than a trick of the light. “They need you in Command.”

“What’s going on?”

The boy’s eyes fall on me, but flick back to Farley almost instantly. “The king,” he stutters. “There’s a broadcast.”

“He’s on the screen more than he’s on his throne lately. What’s different about this speech?”

Again, Coulson’s gaze shifts to me, an accusatory glare flaring behind cool grey. “It’s not just a speech.”

* * *

The door to the administrative tower is ajar when we reach it. Premier Davidson, Colonel Farley, Queen Anabel, and the entire Samos family await us. And Cal, of course. Only Evangeline seems to notice our arrival, which she acknowledges with a short dip of her head in my direction before nailing her eyes back to the video screen which enraptures the room’s other occupants.

Maven’s familiar features do, in fact, grace the screen. Harsh shadows below his eyes—the ones so like his mother’s—age him, making him seem far older than just seventeen. The crown of flames, that cursed piece of metal that everyone seems so obsessed with, weighs down his carefully styled curls. But he does not seem weighted. He seems strangely happy.

He speaks animatedly from a podium, though the frame is too cropped for me to tell anything about where he is, other than the fact that he certainly isn’t at Whitefire. Still, the lights, the pale white color of the vaulted walls and ceilings behind him tickle the edges of my memory with a vague sense of recognition.

“What’s he doing?” I ask the deathly silent room. Cal is the only one to even notice my words. He tears his gaze away from the video screen to meet mine, searching for something in my eyes. An answer, I guess. Resolution. Something to say that we’re okay after our fight. Subtly, I shake my head at him. This isn’t the time. Farley’s right. Cal has his duty, his life. And I have mine.

“Just watch,” Davidson mutters. In his hands, he holds a smaller video screen. A flick of his wrist brings the volume on the larger screen up, and Maven’s voice fills the space.

“Even in the face of betrayal, Norta is strong as ever,” he announces, to the cheers of thousands. The way the sound echoes brings forward flashes of memories from the not so distant past, but I can’t put two and two together. I’m too distracted by the words befalling the little King’s mouth. “We rise, ever more powerful.”

The camera pulls back slightly, allowing the person beside him to come into view. Iris Cygnet. Princess of the Lakelanders and now, Queen of Norta. Maven’s wife. Like the first time I met her, she does not wear the dripping jewels or ostentatious clothing of a courtier. Rather, she wears a simple light blue gown, tied with a garish sash of red and black around her waist. A crown of golden flames interspersed with sapphires in the shape of water droplets adorns her dark hair. Though I try not to notice, my eyes also fall to the wedding band on her finger.

Cal’s voice cuts through the room. “Who the hell is that?”

“Your new sister-in-law,” Ptolemus sneers.

“The Lakelands and Norta stand now, united as one,” Maven continues, gripping Iris’s hand. It’s not the awkward touch he occasionally shared with Evangeline, but it’s also not the comforting touch he shared with me. It’s political, kind. But not loving. “And together, I give you my word that every last member of the Scarlet Guard will be hunted down and destroyed within the year. Soon, the peace we’ve worked to create will no longer be threatened by these terrorists!”

The crowd cheers, and suddenly the room around is stifling. This time, I can’t tell if it’s Cal’s doing, or my own lungs failing me.

“And, my dear people, I assure you,” Maven adds when the crowd dies down a little. He turns to the camera with a fierce expression, one not meant for anyone around him, or anyone else that may be watching. His look cuts through the screen directly into me, as if he stands only a few feet away. Whatever is about to happen, it’s for me and me alone. “I am nothing if not a man of my word.”

Maven claps, shattering the moment. I have to force myself not to jump at the sudden intrusion on our moment. “But enough talk. Let’s get to it. The real reason you’ve all tuned in today.” The camera cuts from Maven’s close-up to an all too familiar sight that sets my teeth on edge. Judging from the tension in Cal’s shoulders, I can tell he recognizes the arena as well.

When I lived in the Stilts, arenas full of people were a weekly occurrence. Feats in which Silvers fought each other with abilities helped to keep would-be rebels from hoping and dreaming of ever defeating the Silver elite. But this isn’t any arena. It’s the Bowl of Bones. And this is no ordinary Feat. “The Scarlet Guard may soon be extinct, but to the Newbloods only, who I’ve welcomed into my home, who have betrayed both myself and the country, I provide these small mercies.”

On one side of the arena, from a doorway I recognize intimately, a man steps forward, an Arven Silent ghosting behind him. One hand grips a shiny sword, while a few inches above, his wrists are wrapped in familiar Silent Stone manacles. I vaguely remember him from my time at Whitefire. But he’s not a lord of one of the High Houses. He’s not even Silver. He is one of Maven’s Newblood recruits. A Wrecker, I remember. Like Nix or Damarian, with virtually indestructible skin. A feeling of dread pools in my stomach and I pull into myself as the realization dawns on me. The change in posture does not go unnoticed by Farley, who glances from me back to the screen with an increased sense of anxiety.

A woman around my mother’s age enters from the other side of the Bowl of Bones, looking small in her ill-fitting armor. The small battle ax weighs her tiny arms down more than the manacles or the Arven woman behind her. Her familiar features are another slap in the face. Her, I certainly remember. Halley. She’d been a servant for an Eagrie family. I was there the day she came before Maven and showed us her ability–detecting the abilities of other. It was this ability that allowed her to expose Nanny, the shapeshifting Newblood Cal had sent to court to keep tabs on me. Nanny had chosen the Scarlet Guard’s way out and swallowed a suicide pill before she could be interrogated, much to Maven’s dismay. The memory makes me shudder.

Maven’s threats from months ago wander back into my mind. While I stayed at Whitefire, the Newbloods I helped lure there would be safe. Cared for like the soldiers Maven wanted to turn them into. But if I went against him, fought him, they wouldn’t be so lucky.

I didn’t just leave. I escaped, along with fifty other Newbloods, and the entire Samos family. I’d humiliated him on his wedding day, of all days. And now, with his second defeat at Corvium, he’s facing an uprising. Watching the video screen now, it seems that he hasn’t exactly turned the other cheek. He knows what he’s doing. And somehow, though I’m not sure how, he knows I’m watching. He knows how much this will hurt me.

“Lords Arven, if you please,” Maven says in a booming voice, gesturing to the two Newbloods’ Silent guards. They follow his cue, backing out of the arena and leaving the two terrified Reds alone to face each other. The guards don’t, I notice with a lurch of nausea, remove the Silent Stone manacles.

“I don’t understand.” Farley squints at the screen in confusion. “If it’s an arena fight between Newbloods, why does he leave the manacles on?”

“Because it’s not just a fight,” I answer in barely more than a whisper.

Cal inclines his head in my direction, nodding without looking at me. “It’s an execution.”

No one answers. We can only watch. Everyone in the room is painfully aware of just how far away from the capital we are. How useless we are to stop this.

Along the wall of the arena, dozens of Silvers step forward. Judging from the colors emblazoned on their uniforms, and the fact that they all wear the same face, they—rather, he—hails from House Tyros. Clones. But they don’t attack. They merely seem to guard the exits, ready to stop any attempt at escape.

“Begin,” Maven bellows. The Bowl of Bones surges with the cheers of thousands of Silvers. Both Halley and the Wrecker hesitate, staying where they are in confusion. Even from here, I can see the tremors running through them. I did this. My words brought them to Archeon. And my escape put them in this prison of death.

The moments of inactivity in the arena are broken by a sudden flurry of activity as both the Newbloods fall to their knees, choking and clutching at their throats. Among the sea of Tyros faces appear two tall Silvers with dark skin and equally dark eyes, clad in the blue uniforms. Lakelands windweavers. The ones who survived or didn’t make it to the battle at Corvium only a few hours ago. Maven certainly is quick on his feet, I’ll give him that.

Maven waves a hand at the Lakelanders, and they release Halley and the Wrecker instantly, allowing the air they’ve stolen back into their lungs. Both champions collapse into the fine sand.

“Come now,” Maven condescends to them, as if they are nothing more than stubborn children refusing to listen to reason. “Play nicely. This does not have to be the end. For one of you at least,” he adds with a cruel, cold smirk.

My heart sinks as his words rattle me. Small mercies, he’d said.

Cal was wrong. We both were. This isn’t an execution. It’s so much worse.

This is a fight to the death. And there can be only one winner.

There will be no martyr tonight. No Red blood spilt by the unmatched Silvers. This won’t be ammunition against the elite, as the executions of the old days may once have been. This is different. The only Red blood spilled tonight will be drawn by another Red. Newblood versus Newblood.

The Feats of First Friday delighted in shedding Silver blood to show us that we were inferior beings. To keep us in our place. But now, with this little show, Maven has unlocked an even worse way of smothering the rebellion, one that replaces the all-too-valuable Silver blood with the disposable crimson blood that flows in our veins. His message speaks volumes, even without him speaking a word.

Even with abilities, even with power, we will always be Red. We will always be disposable. We will always be inferior. Tonight, one Red will die, and one will walk out of the arena alive, if only in body. As I turn to leave the administration building, I wonder which would be worse. To die at the hands of someone you thought was your friend? Or to be the one forced to take that life, and then live with it for the rest of your own existence?