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streamafterlaughter · 1 year

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Fundamental Differing

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Chapter I: Everybody Get Together

masterlist | playlist

summary: You meet with your record label, where they drop the news of a cross country tour in your lap. Your big break, finally, but with a huge catch.

tags: rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader, gn!reader, estranged lovers, angst

a/n: i got so excited i wrote this in a little over two hours. don’t get used to the consistent updates just yet, but i’m so excited about this story! Please reblog to support the author!

Spring 1992 (present day)

Seattle

Your POV

The Sub Pop office is a small one, the walls covered floor to ceiling in magazine clippings, polaroids, and scribbled signatures of the label’s crowning achievements. When Death Dance Approximately was signed, you’d never freaked out so hard in your life. To be on the same label as Nirvana was something you never would have imagined, but now you’re here, with four of your closest friends, waiting for the executives to tell you the news.

“I told you, all I know is that they have a tour scheduled for us.” Steve looks at his planner as he leads you, Robin, Sylvie, and Lilith into the cozy board room. The four of you had harassed him all morning, begging to know what the meeting was for. “I have no idea who we’re going with, or when, and it’s starting to piss me off.” You’d hired Steve as your manager the second you were able to pay him. Selfishly, you’d missed having him around, and he was good at the job. He took care of you all, and loved you just as much.

“But why wouldn’t they tell you who we’re touring with? That doesn’t make sense. It makes me nervous.” You bite at one painted fingernail, an anxious habit you’ve been trying to break. You enter the meeting room early, the speakers playing Territorial Pissings at an insanely high volume. You huff as you plop yourself into an office chair, bouncing your leg as your band mates surround you.

“Welcome, Death Dance Approximately!” The double glass doors open, making way for label head Bruce Pavitt, a bald man in a flannel shirt and ripped jeans. He’s always been very hands on with his bands, making sure they have whatever they need before any performance. Part of you suspects it’s to keep his own reputation, but you appreciate it regardless. “I’m sure Steve’s told you why you’re all here today. We have set up your first ever cross country tour! You’ll be supporting Corroded Coffin on their Freak Show album tour. You’re not necessarily openers, but because they’re so big, you’ll be the second band on the bill …” Bruce’s words are lost on you after that, your vision blurring as every sound in the room becomes a jumble of noises and voices. Your mouth is dry, and you can’t breathe. Is this why you weren’t told? They knew of your history with Corroded Coffin, or worse, with Eddie? You haven’t seen him in years, and the thought of touring together makes your stomach flip.

“How long has this been planned?” You interrupt finally, attempting to keep your voice level. You feel everyone’s eyes on you, and chance a look at Steve, whose face has fallen with pity for you, and to Robin, who’s chewing her bottom lip feverishly as Lilith grips her hand. Sylvie drops their head in their hands, a sigh escaping their lips.

“We finalized with CC last week.” Bruce answers flatly, attempting to gauge your reaction to the news.

You nod curtly, and heave yourself out of your seat. The second you’re out of the office, you have a cigarette between your lips, and you’re struggling to light it with shaky hands. It isn’t long before Steve is beside you, offering his own lighter to the end of your cigarette.

“What the fuck?!” You look up at your best friend, and all he can do is shake his head. “Did you know about this? Tell me the truth.” Your voice is panicked, paranoid. Why wouldn’t they tell you sooner?

“No, I had no idea. I promise. I don’t think Eddie knows either.” You roll your eyes at his words. You don’t like remembering Steve and Eddie still talk, but it comforts you knowing he’ll be blindsided too.

“When do we leave?”

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?!”

“The Freak Show tour tickets have been on sale for months. They didn’t invite us on officially until today, but it’s been a plan for awhile. But I didn’t know. Eddie never mentioned waiting for another band. I don’t get it.” Steve is defeated, knowing how pissed off this news has made you, how stressed out you’ll be for the next three months. “I’m so sorry, Y/n, if I had known-“

“You would’ve told me, yeah yeah, I know. But you didn’t know, so you couldn’t tell me. There’s no use beating yourself up over it. This will be good for us. CC is huge, and to be invited to tour with them is gonna launch us to another level. If I survive it.”

Steve wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hug which you return, sobbing freely into his chest. What the fuck are you gonna do?

Los Angeles

Eddie’s POV

Eddie kicks his feet up on the table of the Elektra Records meeting room, lighting his second cigarette in twenty minutes. He’s barely listening to the suits talk, discussing the details of the Freak Show tour. But something catches his attention when his manager mentions “that femme grunge band.”

“Death Dance?” Eddie looks up, the cig dangling from his lips. Jeff and Gareth send each other a look of worry that Eddie clocks, and he looks back to the executive at the head of the table.

The bald man nods. “They just signed on as your featured band. They’ll go on before you, after the openers. That okay with you, Mr. Munson?”

Eddie runs a hand through his curls, staring at the table like it’s the most fascinating piece of furniture in the world. Eddie’s not a drama queen. But he’s so close to losing his shit right now, trying to let the news sink in.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine. Sounds good.” He inhales again, trying to soothe the anxiety that’s gathering in his chest. It’s been years since he’s seen you. He can’t imagine what this context will do to him. He drank himself silly when he saw you on MTV for the first time, your music video for Pretty Boy in regular rotation, causing him to fall into a months long depression he only clawed himself out of recently.

He picks at the skin around his fingers, peeling the calluses formed over years of performing. He can feel the nervous sweat on his brow, the chills on his arms. The conversation dies then, the room visibly more tense as people shuffle out, leaving their frontman to deal with the anvil that’s been dropped on his chest.

It’s nighttime when Eddie finally gets home. His house in LA isn’t special, a two story home with a big yard and a basement studio, but nothing extravagant. He practically punches the phone as he dials, not able to calm his nerves all day. The buzzing in his head has gotten louder, more persistent.

“Hello?” Steve picks up on the third ring, sounding exhausted.

“Hey, man.”

“Eddie, shit, man. I meant to call you. You hear already?”

“Oh, I heard. You know about this?” He accuses, bitter venom leaking from his tone.

“Why does everyone think I knew about this? Of course not, dude. I would have warned you. Both of you!”

Eddie sighs. “How’re they doing? How is—“

“Y/n? They’re freaked, Eddie.”

“You think I'm not? You think I’m super jazzed about this?”

Steve groans, and Eddie can practically hear him rubbing his face in frustration. “No, obviously not.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it now. Tour starts in two weeks. It’s not like we have any say over the labels.”

“You’ll be alright. It’s been, what? three years?”

“Two.”

“I thought you broke up in ‘89?”

Eddie bites his lip. “Yeah, officially. We stopped seeing each other in 90, though.” It was the worst six months of the relationship, sleeping together without any of the love, any of the passion you once harbored for each other. It broke Eddie’s heart more than he ever had thought possible. He’s still recovering from the final time you left him.

“Regardless,” Steve’s voice snaps him back to the present, “You’ll be alright. I got you. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I can’t believe, after all we’ve been through, you still feel comfortable saying those words. It’s like you want to get your shit rocked.” Eddie chuckles, and Steve laughs with him. “Thanks, man. Really. And check on Y/n for me, yeah? I still worry about them.”

“Of course. They’ll never admit it, but I know you’re on their mind too. Goodnight, dude. See you soon.”

“See ya, Harrington.”

Your POV

“Who was that?” You plop down on Steve’s couch, a joint between your lips. Robin makes grabby hands at you, and you pass the toke to her before reaching for the chips in Sylvie’s lap.

“Uh, Eddie, actually. He got told today, too.” Steve takes his spot next to you as Robin passes him the joint. “How’re you doing?”

You read the earnestness in Steve’s eyes, and you can’t bring yourself to lie. “I’m scared. Our album releases the first day of tour, I never would have thought he’d be around for it. What’s he gonna think? When he sees that cover, if he listens to it? I’m screwed!”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t believe that. Eddie’s never had a bad thing to say about you, all this time. Sure he’s hurt, you both are, but there’s no chance you’ll make him mad. I don’t think it’s possible.”

You roll your eyes. It’s almost a challenge. Maybe you want to piss him off, at least then you’ll know he’s hurting. Corroded Coffin has plenty of angry songs, but none of them sound like they’re about you. Maybe you’re clueless, though, missing what’s right in front of you.

“Hey,” Robin chimes in, scooting closer to you on the floor. “You have us, okay? You’re not going into this alone. We love you, we’ll make sure you’re okay the whole time.” Sylvie nods at her words, and Lilith reaches for your hand. You entwine your fingers with hers.

“I love you guys.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but it draws your friends into you, surrounding you in a group hug.

chapter II

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt | send a message to be added🫶

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prpfs · 7 months

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Hi there!🗡️😈 19 year old female here! Recently I’ve rewatched Loki. Because the next season is coming out soon and my god I’m so excited! But anyways moving on,

I’m looking to do a couple of Loki roleplays! Either Loki x Sylvie (or whomever) and even Loki x an Oc! I write in 3rd person and write about four paragraphs but can write more if motivated! I love dark content 🕊️ and NSFW themes are more than welcome! I love angst, fluff, plot twists, enemies to lovers and all those sort of things! I’m open to anything really. I prefer to double up as I find that easier but of course it isn’t necessary if you aren’t comfortable with it. I have no triggers/ limits but will of course respect yours.

I usually use discord but tumblr works too! I love talking OOC and gushing about our characters and such so if you do too then I’m sure we’ll get along well.

If we do double up I’d be happy to play Loki for you too, or whoever you want. Idk let’s just discuss and plot!! I love world building too and AU’s as well! I do any pairings FxF, MxM, FxM, MxNB and so on!

If any of this interests you please interact and I’ll get back to you!! Thank you!🖤

give a like and anon will get back to you

#loki rp #loki roleplay #marvel rp #marvel roleplay #fandom rp #fandom roleplay #oc roleplay #oc rp

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enchantricksbot · 1 year

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I ship Sylki but all Enchantricks. Is that ok? I feel likes there’s tension sometimes. everyone’s mostly chill but I don’t read the comics, but I rly like their energy from what I’ve seen.

That’s totally ok and multishippers r absolutely welcome here. Even if they don’t ship Enchantricks. You don’t have to read the comics to enjoy them, but I think everyone should anyway (shipper or not they’re good but I’m bias bc I’ve always loved comics)

I understand sometimes comics esp being new can be overwhelming. That’s why I try to share digestible snippets of cartoons or a few panels. They’ve always had tangible energy, and a constantly changing relationship through their millennia of years, knowing each other since a young age. Friend, enemy, ally, lover. They never try to make each other change for the better, each other, or put the relationship before themselves. They have major trust issues so I don’t think they’d have a consistent relationship until they fix that. And maybe they never will. But I think they’re more tortured soulmates. Broken lovers.

Her relationship with Loki is interesting bc Amora has a hard time loving and used it majority as a tool. She always wanted to be loved because for most of her childhood she wasn’t. Her sister was the star child (similar to Loki) Karnilla her mentor cast her out. The reason she was bent on Thor for so long was because unlike everyone else. he never rly loved her. Likely an obsession originating from a teenage jealousy, as Thor liked Sif. I believe it was originally Odin who asked Amora try to seduce Thor and bring him back to Asgard. Something she’s never failed at before. To my knowing Lokis never been enchanted by her before, it’s mentioned his magic and mind too strong. (Which Sylvie attempts in the mcu) though it seems for Amoras magic to work you have to be consensually invested in her prior for her to be able to have hold over u. (Her natural beauty be said to be enough, cliche but I like femme fatales) or for you to initiate in kissing her as her lips are enchanted like a poison lipstick. It depends which writer you ref since everyone has dif interpretations.

TLDR: totally ok to ship both, to ship any multi ship (given its consenting adults) even if u don’t read the comics. They’re a fun couple bc they’re weird and baddies. Casual shipping is great and enjoyable.

#marvel #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #amora #mcu #amora the enchantress #comics #the enchantress #enchantricks #sylki #amorki

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fighterkimburgess · 3 years

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We Were Happy

Summary: Gabby Dawson's back in Chicago, and spends the day before her fundraiser reflecting on what she did and what she's lost. Inspired by We Were Happy by Taylor Swift.

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Canon accurate mentions of miscarriage, fostering, end of a marriage. Also pregnancy, but not for Gabby.

A/N: I still can't believe I actually wrote this. Introspective Gabby who's learned from what happened? I think I'm here for it.

If there was one thing four years of living in Puerto Rico had done for Gabby Dawson, it was that she hated Chicago winters even more. There was a reason all the foundation events were in the summer, the chance to visit without snow. But because of the pandemic it was upside down, so the traditional summer gala was now in February.

She hadn’t told any of her former colleagues she was back in town. There was no point. Of course they’d have turned up to see her, and she’d have been welcomed with open arms to a lunch at 51 before they got called out to an alert. But they weren’t her life anymore.

Herrmann had sent her an email the previous summer, wanting to warn her that Sylvie and Matt had gotten together and were dating. She thought she would have minded. She’d always thought that if she came back to Chicago Matt would still be there, and they’d have something. But he was with Brett, and he was happy from the Instagram posts she saw. She’d never like one, not willing to remind Sylvie that they were still connected by social media.

The gala was that evening, and she could have had a list as long as her arm to do. Instead she’d passed it off to the fundraising committee, claiming she was begging off to go see her family. It was a bare faced lie.

Instead she wandered down familiar streets, snow turning grey from smog and people walking through it. She used to wander these streets with Matt, laughing about rom coms and couples who broke up and got back together constantly, stealing kisses under streetlights. Back when they had each other and were so stupidly happy and in love and lust.

Every time she found a new street there was a memory attached to it somehow. The one where she had her first fire as a candidate. The one where Matt nearly fell to his death getting the teenager off the El support post. The street where, just a mile away, a chance change of position had left Leslie Shay dead and Gabby nursing survivors guilt she never thought would go away.

She kept walking through the streets, making her way towards the lake. She passed the club that Matt had snuck into without a ticket so they could dance together before he proposed the first time, before she got a start date at the academy. He’d wrapped his arms around her neck holding her close, and the only thing that she could think was that she was so loved, with the man of her dreams. They’d spent the night surrounded by people, but the only ones they had eyes for were each other.

She passed places Peter had brought her to, passed the unit that used to be his mother’s diner but was now a pop up artist space. Passed the burger place Jay had brought her to the one time they made it out of the other’s bed. But the memories didn’t cut through her the way the ones with Matt did. Even before they were lovers, when he was with Hallie and she hid her crush because she would never break up a relationship, they’d been friends. She’d earned his friendship, deserved his friendship. And she’d done the same for his love before she’d run off.

The sun was beginning to set as she arrived at the lake, staring out at the boats moored there as the sun went down. A familiar flash of red went past in a squeal of sirens and lights, but it wasn’t her truck. Thank God, because if it had been she didn’t know what she would have done.

The sun kept setting but Gabby stood there, arms wrapped around herself. One of the last truly happy moments she’d had with Matt was standing here, his arms around her, talking about their future. About kids, a family. She’d left firefighting for that. She’d gone back to being a paramedic, took a demotion, for them to have a family. And he cast her sacrifice aside like it was nothing.

The last time they were there they giggled, grinning at the thought of their Baby Casey. They’d never replace the baby they’d lost, never replace the one who should have been their firstborn, but they were going to do it. She was going to get her happy ending wrapped in her husband’s arms. But then the fertility specialists and the news about her aneurism and the constant fights just got too much for them.

When it was good it was the best relationship she could imagine. She loved him and he loved her, and they knew the dangers of their jobs and lives so they wouldn’t end up like ‘Tonio and Laura. They’d lived lives without each other, so they wouldn’t end up like her parents. They’d never let things get like his parents, she’d never threaten violence against him. Ever.

But the voice in the back of her head told her she’d ruined it all, and she had. Deciding to foster Louie without asking - even though if she’d thought about it for a minute Matt would have been all in. Everything with Bria, and the mess that ended up. Her insistence that they not adopt, because once burned twice shy and she didn’t want to risk it. It seemed so stupid, now. The point of fostering was that if there was a parent who could look after them, the child went back. But she’d been so laser pointed on adoption, on Louie being theirs. She’d never considered it.

The Gabby of nearly six years ago was not the Gabby of today. She’d have known what to do. She’d have known that fostering Louie didn’t guarantee she’d get to be his mom forever. The Gabby of four years ago who’d known that would have known that choosing this job meant she was setting her marriage aside. She knew Matt only ever wanted to get married once. Knew that he wanted his wife to take his name, knew that he was an old fashioned guy at heart who wanted to open her door and pull out her chair. But that wasn’t her.

She didn’t want his chivalry. She didn’t want him to try clear her path. Because she was Gabriela Dawson and she was the surprise baby sister of Antonio, and from a young age she’d known that she had to push to get anywhere. She didn’t know how to do anything else back then. She’d never learned how to let someone in and see who she was inside. Instead she put up her walls and tried to keep him away, and she’d lost Matt for that.

The flight to Chicago was nearly five hours, and she’d spent it thinking about Matt and Sylvie. She couldn’t say she was thrilled for them, but she wasn’t angry. She could see how Sylvie’s softness would compliment Matt and remind him to take it slow, but how her former best friend’s core of pure steel would hold him up when he needed it.

She turned to look away from the water, darkness surrounding her as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. She didn’t want to cry, but the tears slipped out of her eyes unbidden. She’d had a crush on Matt Casey for nearly three years before they’d started dating, and she’d loved him for five. More than a fifth of her life he’d been a romantic interest in one way or another. But the voice in her head reminded her, she wasn’t in love anymore. She took the choice to leave. She sent the divorce papers. She had them drawn up and she’d signed them and she’d mailed them with her rings in the envelope. She had done that, and she had to take responsibility for that.

Once she returned to the hotel she showered and dressed, a smile on her blood red lips as she wined and dined for donations, asking wealthy people for money. There were people she’d known from CFD there, and she smiled and nodded, giving polite conversation and saying she hadn’t really stayed in touch, the humanitarian work was busy and she worked more than she probably should but she loved it. By any stretch of the imagination it was a success, checks written for huge amounts to keep aid flowing to the parts of the island that needed it. And Gabby returned to her room, wiping off her makeup and putting her hair in a ponytail to sleep.

She awoke early the next morning, and in a masochistic way decided to go past 51 before she came back to the hotel to check out and go home. She got an uber to three blocks away, before crossing the street and walking past. There were people she didn’t recognise, but then she saw Mouch and Herrmann and her heart filled with love for them. She watched Severide and Stella walk in hand in hand, Stella wearing a grey shirt and Gabby grinned for the woman she used to be close to. Joe Cruz hugged a small child, passing him back to a dark haired woman before going in for his shift. And then she saw Matt get out of his truck, before going to the other side and opening the door for Sylvie.

Her former best friend kept her hair short, and Gabby would admit it suited her. But it was as they were walking that Gabby spotted the small swell of her slim friend’s stomach, realising what it meant. Matt was going to get his happy ending, and she couldn’t be angry at it. She didn’t want to be angry about it. She’d left, and their once a year sex wasn’t enough for a relationship. He deserved more, and she knew that. She stayed watching for another moment until they walked through the doors of 51, and then she left, getting an uber back to her hotel to pack and go to O’Hare.

Chicago was no longer her home, it was filled with the memories she needed to outrun. Puerto Rico was home, and it was good and she was happy there.

#gabby dawson #gabriela dawson #gabby dawson fanfic #gabriela dawson fanfic #brettsey #brettsey endgame fic #cíara writes

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thebookreader12345 · 3 years

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Q&A Answers

Hey everyone! I’ve gathered all of your questions, and here are the answers. I hope you enjoy! You’re all welcome to comment your answers down below to some of the questions so I can learn more about you as well.

Q: What was your favorite fanfic to write? A: I’ve got two. One is Costume Party, because it was the first imagine I wrote on here. The other is The Perfect Night for Pumpkin Picking because I loved the prompt. So whoever requested it, thank you. It was a pleasure to write.

Q: Where would you like to travel? A: I’ve always wanted to travel to Greece because Percy Jackson was my whole childhood, so Greek Mythology is really interesting to me. I also think Santorini looks gorgeous, so it would be amazing to go there.

Q: What inspires you to write?/How do you get inspired to create your stories? A: Writing fanfics and imagines is basically my whole life at the moment. I’ve got school, and then right after that I hop on either this or Wattpad. I know, I’ve got no life😂. Anyways, most of my ideas come to me in a dream, and when I wake up, I write those things down. Either that happens, or I imagine different scenarios I’d like to be in with the characters. Of course, there’s also requests. Just a note that REQUESTS ARE OPEN. So, yeah. That’s basically how I get my ideas.

Q: What made you decide to write for One Chicago? A: Fun fact, I actually have One Chicago fics out on Wattpad, so if anyone wants my handle, I will gladly post it (Beware my fics on Wattpad are pretty long, and not completed yet). And sometimes, it got old following the script like I do for those fanfics because I follow the story line pretty closely so that everyone gets a real feel for being in the One Chicago universe. I also had some story ideas I wanted to write out, so I was like, hey, lets start posting on the tumblr account I have but don’t use. And here we are.

Q: What is your favorite fic trope? A: I’ve got to go with friends to lovers. I think building up a solid friendship is pretty important when writing stories, and then making that progress into two characters falling in love is just cool to write because you see how far the characters have come.

Q: Who is your favorite character from each show? A: I’m going to do favorite male and female for each show. For Chicago Med, Natalie and Will are my favorites. For Chicago Fire, it’s Kelly and Sylvie. And then for Chicago PD, it’s Hailey and Adam and Jay (I can’t choose between the two. I love them both).

Q: Who is your favorite One Chicago fic writer? A: I’ve got way too many favorites, and I don’t want to choose one over the other, but hint; if you look at who I follow then maybe you’ll see. :)

Q: How many times do you need to write an imagine? A: I’m going to take you through my process. I either come up with an imagine or take a request from my inbox, then I write out the pairing, summary, and give it a title. Next I write the full imagine, and then I read through it to see if I’ve made any spelling errors or forgot quotation marks or something like that. After that, I put in warnings, do a word count, and finally I tag it and publish it.

Q: If you could date one of the One Chicago characters, who would it be? A: I love a lot of the characters in the One Chicago universe, but I’m going to have to go with Jay. If I know Jay, then I’m probably close to Will, since they’re brothers, and then Hailey is Jay’s partner at work, so I’d probably befriend her. 3 for the price of 1.

#one chicago #chicago med #chicago pd #chicago fire #question and answer #x reader #jay halstead imagine #will halstead imagine #kelly severide imagine #connor rhodes imagine #matt casey imagine #adam ruzek imagine #jay halstead x reader #will halstead x reader #kelly severide x reader #connor rhodes x reader #matt casey x reader #adam ruzek x reader #greg gerwitz x reader

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harryandmolly · 5 years

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Complicit // 11

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW, a bulldozer

WC: 6.1k

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Penny stops outside the spotless glass doors of Silver’s home and uses the reflection to primp one last time.

She’s in fine form today, at least on the outside. In a sleek peach-toned Cushnie pencil dress and the first pair of Louboutins she ever purchased (the nude ones with the pointed toes), she means business. She’s the kind of put together that puts the fear of god into the hearts of every man she walks past. She craves that kind of control right now.

She can’t control her feelings, she can’t control his. But she can control her wardrobe and her hair and the reports she runs for the monthly La Splendeur financials. She fights to focus on what she can control.

Silver’s housekeeper walks her back to the library. Silver in a pantsuit black as night sits in sharp relief against her walls stacked high with colorful books. The first time Penny ever made Silver laugh was the first time Silver invited her here and Penny immediately commented on its resemblance to the Beast’s library in Beauty and the Beast.

Silver looks pleased to see her. Any residual weirdness from their last meeting is gone, at least visibly. She’s serving lapsang oolong from her English garden tea set today.

“Good morning, love. I do like your dress. And your necklace sits above it nicely.”

Penny lifts a hand like she wants to check it’s still there. She’s wearing Shawn’s necklace. It seems a waste to leave it in a box in a safe, where it’s been since Ava died. Silver herself said that. And it does go so well with the dress.

Penny smiles placidly. “Thank you. How was Monaco?”

Silver looks mischievous for a moment. Penny finds herself grinning back, enjoying the spark she sees.

“Hot. A little muggy. Terribly crowded.”

Silver’s expression doesn’t match her words.

“Who is she?” Penny laughs.

Silver lifts her chin in defiance. “Tell me I’m not that transparent.”

Penny snorts indelicately and sips her tea. “Silver, you’re as transparent as a cinderblock. But you forget how well I know you.”

The women exchange a meaningful look. Silver glances down at her perfect manicure.

“Her name is Sylvie. She owns a cafe on the Boulevard de Suisse. She makes the best mille feuille I’ve ever had.”

Penny’s eyebrows lift slightly. There’s something in Silver’s voice now that replaces the familiar mischief with which she talks about her romantic dalliances. It’s a little trembling, a little soft, a little warm. Penny attempts to remain stoic. Spooking her is the worst possible thing Penny could do.

“Wow. Sounds like a nice trip.”

Silver meets her eyes. “It was. I’ll be going back next week.”

Penny only barely manages to school her face out of a delighted grin. Silver shakes her head softly and opens her portfolio.

Numbers are up this summer from last. All the girls have been doing very well. Silver has interest in bringing on a few more, has gotten recommendations from girls on the roster, which is where the best talent comes from. Penny assures her that financially, they’re in an excellent position to expand.

“Speaking of expanding, how are things looking on the non-profit end?” Penny murmurs without looking up from her laptop. She can feel Silver’s curious gaze.

“Still tying up some legal loose ends in the back before we really move ahead,” Silver answers carefully.

Penny looks up now with her game face on. “Anything I can do to help us along? I’d like to get moving on it.”

Silver’s expression goes a little sour. She puts her teacup down more forcefully than necessary. Penny flinches.

“You were singing a different tune during our last meeting, love.”

The corners of Penny’s lips pull in slightly. “I don’t believe that’s true, I checked on the progress and you gave me an update and said it was slow. I’m checking again now and you say it’s still slow. So perhaps I should step in.”

Silver’s eyes narrow. “Please don’t forget how well I know you.”

The words are simple and somehow both threatening and loving. Penny’s stable facade breaks. She looks down.

“I know very well how long you’ve wanted to do this kind of work. I know how important this is to you. That’s why I was surprised when you seemed flippant about it last week.”

“I wasn’t flippant, I--”

“Penny, please. Don’t suggest that I can’t read you. It’s insulting to me and to our friendship.”

Penny’s mouth shuts. She feels like a scolded child.

“And now you’re getting impatient to get started. I don’t understand, my darling. Please. Explain this to me.”

Penny’s lips part. She hesitates and reaches for her teacup instead.

Silver softens. “You’re allowed to be a little lost, you know.”

Penny’s eyes shut as she chews on her lower lip. “Don’t like getting lost,” she mutters.

“None of us do, babe. But you need to choose your path now. You owe it to your clients and to this foundation.”

Penny’s expression goes dark. “Don’t make this about him.”

Silver eschews her infuriating wise owl gaze and leans into sympathy instead. She shakes her head slowly.

“I didn’t. You seem to have gotten there on your own.”

Penny’s face goes hot. Her chin quivers slightly. Silver reaches across the table and takes her hand. The physical contact freezes Penny in her tracks.

“Listen to me, my love. I know this is scary. Everything is changing on you right now. But you always knew you couldn’t escort forever. You always knew you wanted to help in a larger, more lasting way. I know he isn’t the reason you want to move forward with the foundation. But… it’s ok if he’s the reason you want to do it now.”

Penny’s jaw locks up. Her hand slips cold from her friend’s grasp. She gathers her folders and laptop and stands.

“I have to go.”

Her voice is a croak. Silver winces in response, but leans back in her seat and watches her go.

Well this is…. Not what he pictured.

Shawn’s not exactly sure what he envisioned when he thought about where Penny lives. It shifted depending on her mood when she was with him. Sometimes he imagined her living in a big, scary haunted house-looking mansion deep in the Hills. Sometimes he pictured a bright, vibrant penthouse in Santa Monica.

Not this. It’s so… normal.

It’s lovely, obviously. It’s a little cottage almost all by itself in the Studio City hills. She parks the leased Passat in the driveway and keeps the Aston Martin in the garage. She has a welcome mat that asks visitors to wipe their paws. Pammy’s leash is hanging from a railing on the porch.

He stands in front of her door for almost five minutes trying to prepare himself to walk into her private space and not become a walking heart eye emoji.

He’s in LA for 24 hours for meetings and a premiere with Bex. He has painters in his house, so they can’t go there. He doesn’t even have time for an overnight with her. So she takes him as an in call.

It’s standard procedure to have a driver meet the client at the courtesan’s house when she’s taking an in call, but Penny waved Gus off. Given that she’s a partner in the business, she has the power to do so. Gus sends her confirmation of Shawn’s wire transfer and tells her if she needs anything, anything at all, he’ll be close by at Jamie’s tennis tournament. He’s a little twitchy, she thinks, because actually, Penny’s never taken an in call before.

Pammy hears him walk up before she does, even over the soft crooning of “Songs for Young Lovers” on vinyl. With little sniffs and gruff grunts, Pammy jogs to the door to greet their guest.

The sun is behind him when she opens the door, casting him golden and glowing as he smiles at her. She smiles back.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he greets, and she’s beset with butterflies walking him into her foyer to meet her dog and breathe her air.

His attention turns almost immediately to Pammy, who’s very eagerly and politely sitting, thumping her tail and waiting to be noticed. Shawn doesn’t disappoint.

He crouches low, holds out his hand and ducks his head a little, looking non-threatening. “Hi. Are you Pammy?”

Pammy walks up for his inspection without answering him. She thoroughly sniffs the hand he offers and when she decides he’s decent enough to let in, she snuggles up against his chest for pets.

Shawn, having been recognized by Pammy for the puppy he is, lifts his head to look at Penny in triumph. “She likes me!”

“She does,” Penny agrees, flustered and glancing around her foyer like she’s looking for more personal items to clear out, though there wasn’t really anything there when she did a walk-through earlier, just the painting of the Las Vegas Strip in the 50s.

Shawn stands and pleasantly towers over her. His eyes flit to her lips as he smirks. He looks back up at her eyes for permission.

Penny tilts her head up and lets him kiss her, nice and soft and sweet. Probably too sweet. It reminds her of Silver’s words the day before. When he pulls away, she bites her lip.

“The premiere’s tonight?” Penny mutters weakly, walking him into the living room where the record player whirls and the blinds are open to the hills. Shawn gazes around, memorizing. He nods.

“I have to leave here at 4.”

Penny does some mental math. “Guess we better get started.”

She turns on her heel and plants her lips back on his. He catches her, a bit startled, whimpering into the firm set of her mouth. She backs him into the wall and slips her hands beneath his shirt, feeding on the perfect sizzle of his hot skin. He explores her mouth, keeping his hands on either side of her neck until she tells him otherwise. As he starts to run out of breath, he notices her hands are still and her lips aren’t moving against his with the same fervor. His brow puckers. He pulls away slightly.

“You ok?” he pants.

She nods and sucks him back in. Her thumbs work against the dips in his obliques and it makes him dizzy, but he still feels a disconnect. He settles further into the wall and tugs a little at her hair, feeling like a needy kid. She doesn’t react.

“Hey,” he tries again, pulling back more fully this time, “If you’re not into this, we really don’t have to do anything. Seriously.”

“What?” she asks dumbly.

Shawn goes pink. “I mean, we can just hang out. Or… I can go. It’s whatever.”

If she sent him away, he could totally pretend not to be devastated. No problem.

Penny chews the inside of her lip, then tilts her head forward to rest against his chest. “‘S not you.”

Shawn resists his desire to nuzzle his cheek against her hair. Instead, he cups his hands around her upper arms and rubs her softly.

“I’ve been having… a weird couple days.”

Shawn’s brows lift, but she doesn’t elaborate. He nods.

“Do you want to talk?”

She shakes her head.

“Do you… want me to go?”

Her pause before she shakes her head is the longest of his whole godforsaken life.

He feels a little desperate. “What can I do?”

She lifts her head from his chest. She looks worn and maybe a little panicked underneath. It rises in him in response.

“I don’t know,” she sighs.

Shawn absently combs his fingers through the ends of her hair. He looks around.

What helps him feel better when he’s distracted and wigging out a little? She does. Maybe he just has to be ok with the idea that he doesn’t have the same effect on her.

His heart thuds extra hard for a beat in his chest. Maybe he could.

Shawn sweeps his hands up to position his thumbs under her ears, tilting her face up.

“Do you want me to take care of you?” he breathes.

Her expression goes blank. She looks lost. He wets his lips and tries again, like he’s trying on a suit that he’s not sure fits.

He brushes his nose over her brow and hopes his voice is steady when he says, “You wanna be my good girl?”

Penny feels her hands, still resting on his sides, clench hard. The strangled gasp she releases sounds kind of like a moan. She’s suddenly very aware of him, of everything about him -- his light hint of cologne, the tenderness of his lips on her forehead as he smirks, the sheer size and broadness of him in her arms.

“That a yes?”

Words fail her. Her head is whistling like it’s ready to fly off her body. She’s glad he’s holding her up because otherwise her knees would’ve gone weak.

“I’ve… I mean, no one’s ever…”

“I know,” he soothes, surprised by his own confidence, but he supposes he learned it from her, “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll go easy on you.”

Penny recognizes the words. She’s probably said them before. Being on the receiving end is different. She thinks if anyone else tried them on for her, she’d laugh and pin them into a corner, reminding them who’s in charge.

But as he holds her, she can feel the way his desire to shoulder her burden is seeping off him. His gaze is steady. If he’s anxious at all about stepping into her shoes, she can’t see it.

Is she really about to do this? Is she ready to strip off all the armor she’s so carefully crafted and made a home of? It doesn’t even feel like armor anymore -- it’s a second skin, as close to her as she’s let anything get.

Her own responding certainty runs so deep it touches her trembling bones. She doesn’t feel like fighting it. She wants this with him, wherever it ends up taking them.

“Please.”

When her eyes drift open again, his are locked on her, virile and hungry and so fucking alive. She swears she could come just by looking at them. They watch her for a moment or two, then drop. He pries her claw-like hands off his body and holds them between his own. He cradles them against his lips, blinking up at her lazily, a single curl falling over his hot gaze.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

His words restart her breath. She nods behind him. He gestures toward the hallway she points down and follows her little steps as she guides him.

Her bedroom is bright, surrounded by windows on three walls in the corner of the house. The ceiling gables to a peak so it feels like a little tower. Her bed takes up most of the space -- it’s enormous with white wrought iron head and footboards and blood red sheets. It’s covered in dog hair -- he bets Pammy usually sleeps there with her.

He grins and spends time unapologetically studying. He can feel the way her eyes track him, waiting for his next move. He finds he enjoys being the cat to her mouse. He wasn’t sure it could feel natural, but he finds he wants to relieve her. This is the best way to do it.

He stops in front of a photo print on her wall, a black and white portrait. It’s a close up. Her hair is wet and slung around her face. She appears to be laughing so hysterically it’s almost a scream. Shawn recognizes it and is sure it came from the shoot she used in her La Splendeur portfolio. He glances over his shoulder at her to see her watching him with her hands folded.

“You’ve really never done this before? Not even before you started escorting?”

Penny shrugs. “No. I mean, I wasn’t always so bossy, but I’ve never been… a sub.”

Shawn turns, smiling. “Something tells me you’ve always been a little bossy.”

Penny’s eyes flash for a moment and he can see the domme in her, the one that will always be there, even when she needs a rest. It shoots a thrill up his spine. He gets to give her what she needs this time.

“I’m gonna take your clothes off now,” he says quietly, waiting for her nod before his fingers skip to the buttons of her shirt. He plucks at them, watching more freckled brown skin come out as he goes. He licks his lips, and then remembers he can taste her whenever the hell he wants. With a little murmur, he ducks his head and sucks on her collarbone right next to her throat. She mewls, tilting her head to accommodate him, dragging her hands up his sides.

Shawn stops. He bares his teeth against her shoulder. Her eyes fly open.

“Baby, you know the rules. No hands until I tell you.”

Penny’s chest tightens. She drops her grasp on him. From her shoulder, he watches her little hands clench into fists. He scoops her closer and sucks harder, working the rest of her buttons until he can shrug it off her shoulders. It flutters to their feet. Shawn starts in on the button of her boyfriend jeans, securing his lips now to the base of her throat to suck a twin burgundy mark. Penny’s breathing is heavy and erratic. She’s having trouble letting go.

Once he gets her clothes off, she’s left in a set of heathered gray Calvin Klein lingerie. He laughs. She preens a little.

“Did you do this on purpose?”

Penny sweeps her hair off her shoulders and looks down, licking her lips. “I fuck in my Calvins.”

Shawn’s eyes go dark. He shakes his head slowly. “No you don’t, honey. Take ‘em off.”

He steps back, rests his ass against her dresser and hopes his knuckles aren’t visibly white against the antique wood. She sheds the sports bra first, bending to drop it at her feet, letting her breasts swing. She rises slowly, teasing him. He’s enjoying it. She loops her thumbs through the panties at her hips and drags them down. Shawn spots the wetness darkening the crotch and grunts approvingly.

He looks her up and down. She stands tall and confident because that doesn’t come from the domme in her, that’s just Penny. He tilts his head.

“Where’s your necklace, Pen?”

Her easy confidence is rocked. She blinks and looks around. When she can’t find the words around her, she looks back at him, wide-eyed.

“Wanna see you in it when I make you come.”

Penny’s thighs squeeze. Shawn bites his lip.

She goes to her vanity and reaches into the first drawer. The red box is cracked and faded by time, but what’s in it still shines like the day it was made. She locks eyes with him in the mirror while she clasps it around her pretty neck.

Shawn takes slow, quiet steps up behind her, eyes trained on hers until he’s a breath away. He looks down and admires the glimmer from the curve of her neck. Now exposed to her other unmarked side, he slips a hand down to her stomach to anchor her against him. The other delicately traces the path of diamonds along her throat.

“It’s so pretty, huh, Pen?” he rasps.

She nods. “Really pretty.”

He hums and presses his lips against her jugular, feeling his pulse thrum as hers does.

“And who got it for you?” His voice is a muffled growl against her skin.

She closes her eyes. “You did.”

He skims up along her jaw to the corner of her soft mouth. “That’s right, baby.”

His warm hand cups her throat, not applying pressure but just to hold her head back while he kisses her nearly upside down. She’s eager and responsive now, gripping the little chair in front of her vanity but still squirming under his control. The hand on her stomach dips between her legs. She’s nice and wet, but still not as wet as he wants when he takes her.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he grunts into her mouth, swallowing the crooning whine she releases when he works the heel of his hand against her clit. She spreads her legs a little wider, giving her the purchase to work back against his hand for more friction. He clocks her greediness and smiles against her sweet lips, giving her clit a rough smack. She yelps and lets it trail into a moan.

“Getting desperate, sweetheart?”

His voice is all sharp honey. She wants to fucking bathe in it. She whines again weakly and lets her weight fall back against him. He holds her up, locking an arm around her stomach so the hand between her legs can come up to offer to her.

“Have a taste.”

Penny looks down at his glistening fingers. She brings her hand up to cradle his, and he allows it, focusing on her mouth as she sucks his fingers in between her lips.

Penny’s not unfamiliar with the taste. She’s sucked on fingers and toys that are coated in her many times, but never like this, never as it’s being presented to her by a partner. It’s headier and more erotic. She moans low, overwhelmed by it. Shawn’s eyes dim.

“Fuck, you like that? You taste so fucking good, huh?”

She nods eagerly, still swirling her tongue around his fingers one by one. The arm around her holds her fast while he grinds, still fully clothed, against her perfect round ass. She releases his fingers with a filthy slurp and pants at him.

“Can I suck your cock?”

Shawn wants to fall to his knees for her, but resists, given her request. He kisses her hard, nodding, letting her turn in his arms and lead him to the bed. On the way, she shucks him out of his t-shirt and jeans. He’s in gray Calvins, too. She giggles. It makes his cock throb.

He sits on the edge of her bed. She kneels in between his legs, charged by the confident way he shifts a hand into her hair and spreads his knees. His eyes are molten, looking down at her. She cups him through his briefs and sighs.

“Missed your cock.”

Shawn groans, his brow wrinkling. “Show me.”

With one last glance up at him, she pulls him free, tugging his briefs off his ankles to fling away with her own Calvins.

Penny leans in, her hands planted on his powerful quads, her breath short at seeing how he’s already leaking for her. She curls her tongue over the tip of his cock greedily to swipe up his salty precome. He hums.

“Gonna take me nice and deep, honey?”

She’s never heard him talk like this. It makes her lightheaded and whimpery. She nods and kisses a path down the underside of his shaft to his balls. She peppers them with kisses, light and teasing, then follows her trail back up.

She stops with her lips brushing his head. It pulses for her eagerly. She runs her tongue along the ridge, enjoying the way his stomach clenches.

“I want you to fuck my throat,” she whispers, her voice sounding like he’s already done it.

Shawn’s eyes nearly roll back in his head. “Fuck yeah, baby. Shit. Yeah, wanna feel your throat around my cock.”

With his hand still firmly in her hair, she slicks him down first with her tongue, bobbing her head a few times until her nose brushes his abdomen, warming herself up. She pulls back up, catching his eye, nodding without releasing him from her mouth.

It occurs to Shawn as he starts to slowly rock his hips that he’s never actually… done this. He’s had many blowjobs -- the good, the bad and the ugly. Penny has sucked him down several times, each more perfect than the last. But he’s never been asked to treat a woman’s throat like her pussy before. He hears himself whine as he grazes the back of Penny’s throat, only to feel her swallow.

“Shit, that feels… Pen…” he breathes, letting himself pick up a rhythm, planting his feet for leverage. Her hands rub at his inner thighs, coaxing them apart as she scoots forward, eager for more.

He watches in amazement until he realizes he can’t because he’s so fucking close to coming in her pretty mouth and he’d so much rather come in her warm cunt. He eases her back by her hair, watching her slurp at his bright red tip, popping her lips around it in a way that almost makes him thrust back up into her mouth and say screw it.

“So good, honey, shit, fuck, we gotta…” He chuckles at himself, at the way he sounds like he’s really ready to bust. He shakes his head and falls back into her sheets, inhaling deeply.

“We gotta slow down. Not ready to come yet.”

Her sheets smell like lavender fabric softener. She leans her cheek against his inner thigh, sneaking a little kiss.

“Shawn?”

Her voice is softer than he’s ever heard it. He lifts his head to look at her.

Her brown eyes are peering at him from over his thigh. She blinks quickly.

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask… you for something?”

His heart squeezes. He nods.

Penny turns her face into his thigh, brushing her nose through the downy hair there.

“Will you spank me? Please?”

Shawn lurches upright, leaning on his hand as he stares down at her.

“Say it again.”

He hears himself give the command but doesn’t remember thinking it.

She folds her hands in her lap. “Please spank me.”

Shawn beams at her, reaching for her hand and yanking her up onto the bed and against his warm, needy body. They both writhe and moan in reaction to the fullest contact they’ve had, skin against skin, desperation mixing. He tastes her desire on her tongue, mixed with his own saltiness. He groans and bites into her lower lip, cupping her firm ass in both hands. She arches into it, fisting the sheets in her hands as she fights her instinct to touch him, to take whatever she needs.

Instead, she lets him give it.

Shawn holds her close and sits up, cradling her in his lap. He spreads tender kisses across her cheeks and chin and mouth, his fingers crawling over his most precious -- her shoulder blades.

He gets her so soft and pliant in his arms he almost decides not to let her go. But she’s squirming and wet and he thinks maybe he’s about to fulfill a long held curiosity and fantasy of hers, and what could be better than getting to do that for someone you love?

Shawn sighs into her hair, tucking it back behind her ear so he can whisper.

“Lie across my lap.”

The responding whimper is so sweet, so charged and eager, Shawn’s hips rut up against her before he can stop them. She’s dripping in his lap and he thinks her spanking is only going to make her wetter. The heady power makes him growl again. His toes curl against her rug.

He helps position Penny across his lap facedown. Her thighs are clamped together, likely to offer her some relief as he traces patterns across her smooth hamstrings. The well-used muscles clench magnificently. Her back arches, offering him her plump, round ass like a fucking Christmas present.

Penny holds herself up proudly, taking the first teasing smacks against her soft flesh with only gentle, approving coos. He distracts her, teasing his fingertips down her thighs and out over her hips. She breathes shakily.

When the first hard spank comes on her left cheek, she yelps. Shawn’s hand holds tight, squeezing to make a mark, keeping the bite in place just like she does when she spanks him.

Suddenly, the pressure is gone. His hand rests limply.

“Penny, what’s your safe word?”

His voice is totally sober and clear. She blinks out of the haze.

“Uh… I don’t… have one.”

His thumb rubs a circle into the palm mark he left. “Can you pick one?”

Penny squints. She can barely remember what day it is, she’s so gone. She glances around the room, looking for inspiration. Her eyes land on her closet.

“Stiletto.”

She can hear Shawn’s smirk. He accedes and goes back to massaging the nice welt he left from his first strike. He leaves another on her other cheek to match. Penny squirms. She knows he can feel her wetness pooling in his lap. She knows that’s why he isn’t afraid to spank her a little harder -- the harder it gets, the more she drips.

Penny lies slack across his lap, weightless, worry-less. The pleasure-pain has her higher than any other substance she’s tried. She feels so fucking free with him, safe and cherished in a way she can’t quite replicate on the other side of a punishment.

There’s an element of awe in a D/s relationship. If it’s right, it’s shared by both parties -- the dominant partner in awe of their submissive’s willingness, their singular desire for whatever the dominant wants to give them; and the submissive in awe of their dominant’s ability to strip them of everything that stresses, aches or bothers, leaving them only to feel what the dominant wants them to feel. Penny thinks she understands both now so fully as she arches her back a little higher and murmurs into the pillow, waiting to see what else he’ll give her.

On the third slap across her left cheek, she cries out and comes off her elbows, letting her cheek rest against her duvet as he rubs her and coos.

“Fuck, such a good girl for me,” Shawn marvels. His erection is trapped between his stomach and her side. She writhes against it, gifting him the same relief he’s giving her.

His hand slips between her thighs. Penny moans, leaning her weight back into it. Shawn slips two fingers inside her, sighing.

“Fucking soaked. Want you nice and ready for my cock.”

Penny’s gurgling mewl would be embarrassing with anyone else. She thinks he likes watching her react when he flicks his wrist a certain way, brushes her g-spot teasingly, or scissors his fingers apart. She gasps and squeaks and moans and whines and cries out when his free hand slaps at one of the livid marks her left on her perky ass. He soaks it all in with an easy smile until she’s panting, desperate.

“Please, I need your cock,” she sobs, pressing her hip up against it again, tempting him. His eyes droop, showing weakness.

Shawn doesn’t see the point in waiting any longer. He’s ready to make her come all over him, to burst inside her in that way that could never be so satisfying with anyone else. He eases his fingers out of her, lavishing them with his tongue while she watches. Her pussy clenches again, waiting for him to fill it.

He helps her off his lap, still smirking, easing her onto her stomach with her head on a pillow. He pauses.

“Pen, do you want a condom?” he asks softly. She shakes her head no, facedown. His cock gives a twitch.

Shawn straddles her, his knees bracketing hers as he lowers himself down against her back, reveling in her sharp inhale when his cock slips between her thighs. They start to rock in time like they planned it, but it’s just them. Shawn moans contentedly against her neck.

“Been so good and sweet for me, Penny. My perfect girl.”

Penny hums in reply. It rumbles through Shawn’s chest where he’s pressed against her.

“Gonna make you feel so good, honey. Wanna make you come so fucking hard for me. Can you do that?”

Penny nods before he’s even finished the question. He grins and kisses a mark he left on her shoulder.

Shawn eases back and positions himself at her entrance, held up just barely by his knees. He takes a breath, closes his eyes, and presses his hips forward.

Shawn remembers the first time she let him in. She reached between her legs, her eyes never leaving his, and guided him in herself, slinging a leg over his shoulder like they did it every day. It was hot and brazen and he came a little embarrassingly fast but she just beamed at him and let him play with her nipples until he fell asleep, only to fuck him harder when he woke up before dawn. It wasn’t intimate, it wasn’t elevating, it was just satisfying.

Shawn turns his face into Penny’s neck. He can feel her pulse and hear her sharp breathing into the pillow as her body adjusts to his. With his weight against her, she’s enclosed by him and still reaches for more, sliding a hand up to clap over his, linking their fingers. Shawn’s hips snap forward once, hard, in response to her instinctively personal gesture. Penny rocks with the motion, gasping wetly into the pillow.

“Feels good, sweetheart?”

Penny squirms at the pet name, one she’s never heard from him before, it only made an appearance tonight after he donned his dom costume.

“Good. So… good,” Penny sighs, running her thumb against his. Shawn looks at their fingers and it has him rocking back up against her to start a comfortable rhythm.

She’s cradled beneath him, wet and content, holding his hand, her body gripping his cock like maybe they’re in love but fuck, he’s not gonna say it, he’s definitely not gonna say it because she hasn’t said it and he’s still paying for the privilege of being balls deep inside her, even if it’s the greatest privilege of his life.

So he swings his hips a little faster into the red, welted flesh of her ass and absorbs every moaning breath she gifts him like he’s losing his hearing tomorrow.

Penny is melting. She’s smearing makeup onto her pillow, she’s dripping wetness into her sheets, she’s fucking coming apart. But it’s more than that. She’s never felt like this before. And she’s seen and heard a million women say it. She understood conceptually what they meant, but she never got the glassy awayness in their eyes when they said it. Penny can’t see herself now, and she’s glad she can’t, but she bets her eyes are pretty thoroughly glazed.

Beneath his perfect hips and pressed up against his broad chest, she’s somewhere she never thought she’d be. She’s under, not over, out of control but not powerless. She didn’t think the happy medium could exist in her life, not when she’s spent most of it fighting for as much control as she could gather. Control meant comfort. If it was broken, she could fix it. If she couldn’t, it was on her. But it was a burden she could deal with. She never had help. She didn’t ask for it. She didn’t want it.

But that’s not really true. She’s always had Peter. She’s always had Gus. She’s always had Silver. The man shifting his hips above her to find her g-spot while he sucks on her earlobe and squeezes her fingers is new to the picture but becoming maybe just as important.

Perhaps the things she values most in life are those she can’t control.

She presses her forehead into the pillow. Her chest is caving in with each swing as it bottles up inside her. She shakes her head slightly, wetting her lips. Holding it in.

“Penny, fuck, honey, I’m so close.”

Her release of breath is a sob so sudden and so violent that Shawn’s rhythm falters. He slows, tucking his head over her shoulder to check on her. His eyes are wide. His lips are parted.

“Pen--”

“Mia.”

Shawn’s hips stop altogether. He’s buried so deep neither of them can breathe, but neither of them moves, either.

“What?” he pants.

She turns her face, brushing her nose against his. His eyes fall shut.

“My name is Mia, not Penny. Mia Violetta Bianchi. My name is Mia.”

Mia. Mia. Mia.

The connections snapping in place in Shawn’s brain feel like livewires sparking all over the place. He pants harder into her ear, though he’s stopped moving.

Mia. Mia. Mia.

He holds her hand tighter and starts stroking harder, feeling her body pulse around his, a hot, wet warning.

Mia. Mia. Mia.

He doesn’t realize until now he’s been saying it out loud. Her name. Her real name.

“Mia,” he breathes, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “Come for me, Mia.”

Her body pops like a bottle of champagne. She goes impossibly tight around him, pulsing erratically, desperately seeking his mouth to cry into as she comes harder than he’s ever fucking seen. He follows blindly, his hips taking off without him. He calls out her name over and over as he releases inside her, like he’s trying to make up for every time he’s said the other name. By the time his most powerful orgasm to date abates, leaving him shaking and ready for collapse against her soft, languid body, he can’t think anything else.

Mia.

He feels something’s wrong before he even wakes up. He turns over to find her sitting on the edge of her own bed beside him, staring at him mournfully. She doesn’t appear to have been crying, but she looks close enough.

“Hey,” he whispers, starting to sit up.

Mia turns her head, looking at the floor. The motion makes one of the center diamonds in her necklace catch the light. He’s never wanted to touch her so badly.

“I need to ask you for something.”

He nods. “Anything.”

“I need you to leave me alone for awhile.”

Shawn’s eyes slide shut and he thinks maybe his body is willing him back to sleep so he doesn’t have to face this.

“Ok,” he breathes.

“Just… I need some time. I know if you call I’m supposed to see you, so I’m asking you, please, if you care for me at all, don’t call me. I… don’t know how long. But I need this, Shawn.”

Her sincerity is jarring, as is the tightness with which she’s wrapped up in her terrycloth bathrobe.

“Yeah. Ok. I--”

He was about to say he understood, but he doesn’t. Not really. He bets there’s a lot he doesn’t understand. He drops his gaze.

She stands and looks at him again. “I’ll be in the shower.”

Don’t be here when I come out.

The message is unspoken but clear. In a daze, Shawn dresses and walks out. On his way, he passes a stack of mail on a credenza addressed to Mia Bianchi.

---------

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odderancyart · 6 years

Text

On a Never Resting Sea

Chapter XXV: The Spring Sacrifice

First Last Next

AO3

Summary: Razz, the heir of the Beobyrian Empire, is on his way home from a diplomatic mission as his ship gets attacked by pirates. Suddenly he finds himself taken as hostage, and it doesn’t seem like the pirates are planning to exchange him for a ransom anytime soon. How annoying.

Warnings: violence, death, blood, hostage holding, kidnapping, prostitution

Chapter-specific warning: animal death. If you want to skip this, just skip the part between that the High Priestess takes the knife until Razz and Slim talk with each other again.

The day of the Spring Sacrifice was here. It was one of the most important days of the year, where they asked the Mother not only for an early spring, but also for good harvests and fertility during the coming year, among animals and among Sentients. It was the feast of rebirth.

While his maids busied themselves with dressing him in the long, white dress which had been sewn inhumanly fast for him, Razz stared at the wall, taking little notice of their fuzzing. He was starting to panic. Due to his new duties and his upcoming coronation, there had been very little time for planning how to get the crew out of this, and they still did not have a plan. He’d have to improvise. Which, sure, he was good at, but this was life or death, and not only that. His reputation and with that, his throne, was also at stake.

Feather-light fingers grazed over his clavicles, correcting the dress collar. Glancing down as Eirik, another of his maids, subtly cleared his throat, Razz nodded as the other gestured toward the jewellery room. The dress was done. Time to choose accessories. His seal-skin boots were silent against the stone floor as he stepped down from the small platform. Behind him, Murdermallow’s paws and claws clicked, however, as she followed. The doors leading from the dressing room to his miniature treasure chamber opened as he walked toward them. Razz could see the ushers, but paid them little attention. They were shadows, background characters, almost furniture themselves. Unimportant.

His eyes travelled over the walls filled of precious stones and metals even as his soul ached in worry. It had done so ever since he went to bed last night. Without bothering to look whether the maids had followed him or not – of course they had, they always did, he marched straight to the shelves of blood-red jewellery. The colour of fertility. Just as was fitting and correct to wear during the Spring Sacrifice. Studying them closely, Razz eventually chose a set made from pure silver, with rubies in the shape of drops. Blood drops. Another symbol of fertility.

And, Razz pressed his fangs together at the thought, what would flow today could he not come up with a reason to show mercy. Yet, even while his mind was focused on other things, like how he was going to get his (former?) lover out of the death penalty, he knew that his choice of jewellery would matter quite a lot today. It would be his first public appearance as the Queen of Beobyra. It would mean everything. Which was why he felt himself shivering lightly as he began to choose between tiaras and circlets.

It was nerve-wracking. And he could feel Sylvie throw him a worried glance as she fastened the necklace around his throat and bracelets around his wrists. Razz looked down at her, and then the jewels. They were lovely. Suddenly, without really knowing why, he asked her, “THIS JEWELLERY. IT WAS MY MOTHER’S, WAS IT NOT?”

“It was, Your Majesty,” Sylvie replied softly. Her voice had gotten a melancholic tone – she had been the old queen’s maid once, before she was transferred to Razz after his mother’s death. Smiling, Sylvie looked up at him. “I hope I am not speaking out of place, Your Majesty, but she would have been proud of you.”

It felt like his soul was being stabbed, and Razz was forced to keep in a grimace. Yeah. His late mother would’ve been so proud to know that he was plotting to get his kidnapper out of execution because he had fallen in love with him. Still, as Sylvie smiled at him, smiling back wasn’t too hard. By the Mother, he missed her. He had only been eight when she died, but he missed her. But he’d only have to wait until his death, and then he would meet her again in the Blessed Lands. Because there was no doubt she’d gone there. A warrior such as her would not have been denied access.

Eventually, he picked out one of his many ruby-covered silver crowns, putting it firmly on his head. It was a lovely one, almost more of a circlet than a crown with its winding patterns. In difference to the other jewellery he was wearing, it had not been his mother’s. Instead it had been gifted to him on his fifteenth Midwinter.

As soon as they’d left his jewellery-room behind and the doors had been properly closed again, one of the maids came with the blood red overcoat. As soon as they’d put it onto him, he nodded and walked toward his chambers’ front doors. With a flick of his finger, he called Murdermallow to his side. She woofed happily. The doors slid open, and with pounding soul he left his chambers.

Almost time for the Sacrifice.

Marmalade slowly walked into the crowd swarming the Hills of Ancient. Stroking her throat lightly, Razz held the reins steady in one hand to keep her calm. As hunting and war horse, she was perfect. Not so much for these occasions. Yet he refused to exchange her for another. Just like Murdermallow, Marmalade was his darling. At his side, Slim rode, and Murdermallow was at the ground. Above them, she skies were clear as the night’s last stars twinkled high above. A good sign. The snow sparkled in the moonlight. A murmur came from the crowd, which was full of anticipation. They parted for the royal entourage, allowing them to reach the altar without much trouble.

The altar was beneath the highest hill. The hill where all the Valkyria rulers had been buried ever since Queen Thyra a thousand years ago. Razz saw the High Priestess standing on it, dressed only in a white, furred dress. No overcoat anywhere to be seen. On all the smaller hills merchants and jesters had put up their places, amusing the masses until it was time for the main attraction. He and his brother stopped just in front of the altar, on which a huge stone statue of the Mother stood. She had been moved from the Temple of Thyragård this very morning. A thousand torches lit up the Hills, flames dancing, reaching towards the stars.

Beneath him, Marmalade snorted impatiently as he held her in. Standing still was terrible, apparently. They stayed on top of the horses until the High Priestess smiled. She curtsied before spreading her arms. “I welcome you to the Spring Sacrifice, Your Majesty, Your Highness.”

“WE ARE GRATEFUL FOR YOUR WELCOMING, HIGH PRIESTESS,” Razz replied formally as two lesser priests came to hold their horses. Dismounting Marmalade, he patted her throat. Murmured for her to be good. After him, his brother followed his lead. The snow crunched as his boots sank into it.

“May the Mother with us another year,” Slim levelly continued Razz’s greeting, bowing his head in respect.

The High Priestess smiled brightly. For the highest religious power in the world, Razz found her unusually lively and easy to be around. While she still truly radiated the Mother’s grace, in comparison to the old High Priest she was truly a joy. She said, “I’m sure we will! All the signs point toward Her being unusually happy with us. It might be that Silenth is finally a part of the Empire. Much thanks to you, Your Highness.”

Slim smiled, a certain confidence not often seen suddenly radiating from him. It was the general who shone through, Razz knew. While his brother was not insecure in any way – he couldn’t afford to be, he was never quite as confident as when he was allowed to be a soldier rather than a royal. There was pride in his voice as he said, “It wasn’t easy. The Silenthi trapped up their defence after Peosana left the Empire. Yet, with the Mother’s help and thanks to our courageous soldiers, we didn’t doubt a second that we’d eventually win.”

“Of course we would,” the High Priestess agreed before gazing toward the horizon. Throwing an eye the same way, Razz noted that the sky quickly got lighter and lighter. Only one star remained above. Daylight was approaching. And so were her duties. Without needing prompting, the brothers left to take their places near the altar as the High Priestess went to do the last preparations. Behind them, the Elites on duty – including Alphys – took their places. Ready, as always, to step in should it be needed.

Soon, one of her subordinates blew the horn. The sound was loud and clear, signalling to everyone it was time. At the horizon, the first sunbeams of dawn became visible. The crowd gathered quickly, people pushing forward to be able to see. The High Priestess stood on top of the altar, holding up her hands toward the skies. Ancient words spilled from her mouth in song and prayer. Awe filled Razz as he watched. Everything was silent. Then, snow creaked as Temple guards led a beautiful deer toward the altar from behind. Its brown fur had been brushed until it shone, and small horns rose over its head. They’d just started to grow out again after the long winter.

Not for a moment did the High Priestess’ song let up. Eventually, the lower priests and priestesses joined in as well, and the song floated through the air. Words only they could understand. Words too ancient for anyone else. Melodies too holy to be sung by others. And then, without warning, they all fell quiet. Just in time for the clicking of the deer’s hooves against the stone altar to be heard everywhere. It looked nervous, but didn’t struggle. It had been chosen during autumn, and trained to obedience all winter.

The deer was halted just in front of the statue. It was quickly tied up, legs secured to the iron rings on the floor. A Temple servant walked up on the altar, holding an iron case. Hardly even breathing was heard, and Razz could feel his soul pound in his chest. He had been to this ceremony every year since he was five. Yet it never failed to capture him. Reverence for the Mother Goddess and Her ceremonies filled every inch of his being, blocking out every doubt and insecurity for now. The High Priestess opened the case, taking out a knife. The blade was of their best iron, the handle of carved bone.

“We honour You, our Mother,” she chanted, turning toward the statue and the deer. Every sign of the youthful woman was gone, and instead there stood a wise and powerful servant of their goddess. “We hail You, and we serve You, only You. Give us courage, give us strength. Give us fertile harvests and many strong children, so that we can live to fight Your battles when the end times come. Give us wisdom and heal our wounds, so that we can serve You to our best abilities. And, beloved Mother, give us, Your children, Spring, so that we can once again rise from the snowy winters of the north to instead spread Your legacy across the world!”

As the last words were pronounced, the knife was brought down. The animal let out a hiss as its throat was slit, and the High Priestess quickly jumped out of the way as it threw back with its head, legs trashed as much as they could while tied down. Its eyes were wide and panicked as blood flowed quickly from the wound. The crowd watched it fight against death, full of excitement, and Razz grinned in anticipation as it fell, hitting the altar with a thump. The blood kept flowing, gathering in a natural bowl in the altar. It twitched a couple more times before it stilled. Dead.

The High Priestess stepped forward again, over the deer carcass. Kneeling, she dipped her fingers in the blood before facing the statue. With practiced ease, she painted symbols on the Mother’s forehead, cheeks, and chest plate. As she did, Razz unbuttoned his coat, shivering in the cold air. One of the guards took it, helping him sliding it off.

“Your Majesty,” the High Priestess then said solemnly. “The Mother is ready for you.”

Slowly, Razz made his way up on the altar. The hem of his white dress was immediately drenched in blood. Facing her, he kept an expression just as solemn as hers on his face. Once again, she bowed down to dip her fingers into the blood. Her hand moved toward his face.

“In the Mother’s name I greet you, Queen Razz, Fourth of your name, and in the name of your first Spring Sacrifice as Her chosen ruler, I anoint you in the sacrifice’s blood to grant you many strong and healthy children to be your heirs. To grant you a long life. To grant you the strength of your ancestors, whose remains rest beneath us. In the Mother’s name, I do all of this, for you are Her chosen one.”

Closing his eyes, he felt her fingers move over his face, painting ancient symbols on the bone. Then the hand left, and he opened them again. The High Priestess gave him a nod before holding out the knife to him. A priest stepped forward, holding out a rabbit for him. It was thrashing wildly as Razz grabbed it, and stepped toward the statue. Quickly shifting his grip on the knife, he bowed deeply for the statue.

“FOR YOU, MOTHER, AND FOR MY PEOPLE,” he declared as he held the rabbit out in front of him, “I GIVE YOU THIS SACRIFICE. MAY YOU GRANT US AN EARLY AND RICH SPRING, IF IT IS YOUR WILL.”

With a swift move, he cut the head off. As the blood flowed, drenching both his dress and the statue, he bowed once again, dropping the rabbit by the deer. After nodding respectfully at the High Priestess, he walked down the stage slowly. All eyes were on him as he let the guards help him shrug on the coat again. He was no longer cold, since the blood was warm, but as soon as it cooled he’d be freezing without the coat.

The most important part of the Spring Sacrifice was over. Now everyone who wanted would leave gifts and sacrifices for the Mother. And the feast would start. Already the scent of newly brewed mead and meat roasted over open fire began to find its way into the crowd. Resisting the urge to lick his teeth, Razz smiled at his brother and friends in the Elite. Freja, one of the youngest Elites, held out a wet cloth for him, which he gratefully took. After wiping the blood of his face – dried blood was so uncomfortable – he gestured toward the carnival taking place on a smaller hill.

“SO, BROTHER,” he said. The guards were on duty, they’d follow him everywhere. “HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT SOME FRESH HONEY MEAD?”

“Sounds marvellous, bro,” Slim replied, smiling. He was nearly whispering so no one but them and the guards could hear his informality. Nodding, Razz swung himself up at Marmalade as a priest came back with her.

Anything to keep his thoughts of what soon would come.

“If I were to see your heart, would I see a heart forlorn? Or the sorrow when we’re apart? Would I see the others’ scorn?”

The quiet song danced slowly through the cavern, melancholic and sorrowful. Fell’s low, rough voice was steady, mild, even as his body shivered from the constant cold. Everyone, even the woman, was quiet as he sang. Everyone listened closely to the old words. Taking an odd comfort in them. Placing a hand on his brother’s arm, Red studied his face, smiling slightly. It was a song Fell had often sung when they were young and at the streets.

“Near bereft of hope we every evening lay, each other to bed with teared eyes. For hope and luck I always pray, but it’s hard to find in the dark skies.”

A waterdrop hit his brow. Without paying notice, Red wiped it off. He huddled closer to his brother, closing their coats more over them. Undyne sat on Fell’s other side, sharing the coats as well. They were freezing. Red was surprised no one had gotten pneumonia yet. Fell’s voice wavered. He was staring toward the cave wall, yet Red was willing to bet he wasn’t seeing anything.

“And when the morning rises, while our eyes are dry again, perhaps fortune’s merciless dices, will only give us reason to cry.”

A quiet hum began to follow Fell’s voice, and Red startled when he realized it came from him. He hadn’t noticed. But he wasn’t surprised. It was strangely comforting to sit here, huddled together all three while Fell sang. It was almost like they were back in Drahenport again. Except the cold. Not even in the winter did Peosana and Drahenport get this cold. Gods, he hated the cold. Why had they ever left the hot sun and humid air of home.

“So each day has ever turned, and nothing seems to matter, with every twig of hope burned, the future before us shatter.”

A quiet sob heaved Red’s chest. Fell’s arm sneaked around his shoulders, holding him close. Undyne’s hand squeezed his leg. The guards had been ‘kind’ enough to, when coming with the breakfast porridge, letting them know that their days had run out. The execution was today. And he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die, he didn’t want his friends to die, he didn’t want his siblings to die. Razz had said he’d save them, but it wasn’t realistic to believe. Razz was the empress. Even if he loved Red, he wouldn’t prioritize him over his reputation. It just didn’t work like that. An empress didn’t do that for a whoreson pirate. The trembling got worse, and he could see a tear fall from Fell’s socket.

“Yet we’re never alone, for we always have each other. So no matter how the winds of fate have blown, nothing could be truther, than that we will fight forever, as long as we stay together.”

Footsteps suddenly echoed through the halls. The song stopped, and it was like everyone collectively exhaled. Like everyone had been holding their breaths without realizing it. Anxiously, they all glanced toward the dark hallway. To no one’s surprise, it was the guards who had appeared. As they marched toward the cells, armed with handcuffs, Red, Fell, and Undyne quickly parted, slipping on their own coats properly again. There was no guarantee the guards would wait for it otherwise.

There was no getting out of this now. None of them resisted as their hands were forced behind their backs and locked up there. Not even as Red was forced away from his siblings did he resist, not more than to throw them a helpless gaze. ‘M sorry. If he hadn’t taken Razz out on town, nothing of this would’ve happen. They’d be back at Sarynthia, and they wouldn’t be walking toward their deaths any more than usual. Fell only shook his head, glaring at him. Probably for daring to acknowledge that this was his fault.

Red hadn’t told the others about what Razz had promised. When they’d asked, he’d just said that Razz had said goodbye, nothing more, nothing less. There was no reason to; the chance they would get out of this was minimal. Hunching, he followed the guards obediently as they yanked in the rope they’d tied to the cuffs. Fell and Undyne both walked first, as captain and quartermaster. The audience would want to see them the most. And public executions were a show, Red knew that. He’d seen his fair shares at home, and they were more of a carnival than something sombre.

After all, who didn’t love seeing a criminal meet justice?

In front of him, Fell jerked slightly in the handcuffs, and Undyne hissed at the guards when they got too rough. Otherwise neither of them fought, either. It was useless. Chance was, that if they did, everything would just get worse. Everyone was quiet as they walked through the dark tunnel. A few oil lamps at the walls, as well as one torch which a guard held, was the only sources of light. Red wasn’t sure how long they’d been down here. How long had been since they last saw Zanã.

The sobbing had stopped as soon as the guards appeared. They wouldn’t get that satisfaction. After what felt like an eternity, white light appeared at the end of the tunnel. Red narrowed his eyes against it. A cold breeze caressed his cheek. Finally, he was forced to close his eyes and walk blindly as the light got too overwhelming, hurt his eyes too much. Suddenly, snow creaked beneath his boot. Outside. They were outside.

In the end, his eyes got used to the light and Red could open them again. They walked through the city, but it was almost completely empty. It was creepy. Except for the yipping of a loose dog and the creaking of a suspiciously open door, everything was quiet. What was happening? Swallowing, Red observed his siblings from behind. Fell’s back was tense, Undyne’s hands were clenching. They, too, found it wrong. It was like one of the old tales, the one about how the world would end. How everything would just be gone, one day. The world of the Living as well as the spirit world. Devoured by dark spirits without anyone noticing until it was too late.

He chuckled. The first time they’d heard the Story of the End they’d been only five, sitting by a campfire in a back alley of Cherlian. Their uncle had told them the legend, and they hadn’t been able to sleep properly that night. Just waited for the spirits to come and eat them, hugging each other until they fell asleep just before sunrise. It was one of his earliest memories. Wasn’t it fitting it’d be one of his last as well? A guard gave him a suspicious glance, grip tightening around their sword, and Red shut up.

Once they passed through the city gates and over the moat, they’d seen very few Sentients. An old lady on a balcony, a beggar with only one eye, two city guards and some very young children playing on the streets. He couldn’t help but wonder why no thieves seemed to make use of the vacant city to rob it. Undyne had tried to ask the guards what the hell was going on in this city, but instead of an answer she’d received the flat side of a sword onto her arm. Hard. She’d kept her mouth shut ever since.

Finally, life seemed to return to the area. Laughter and music echoed from the distance. Despite himself, Red relaxed. At least the end times weren’t here just yet. He was tired, the walk had been long and extra exhausting with his arms behind his back. But at least the snow had been so trampled up they didn’t have to fight it, as well.

The ground began to lean upwards, and they reached a crowd. It parted for them, and Red hunched even more as scathing words began to fly. Some spit hit the ground just in front of him. Oh, he’d been at the other side of it. He’d jeered at criminals as well. Not because the younger him had looked down on them, but because it had been fun. Given him and his brother a power trip; they weren’t the most hopeless in the city after all. Yet, as “Pirate, criminal, disgrace, traitor,” began to fly, he focused his gaze at the ground.

Zanã floated high, in front of a clear blue sky. Instead of staring at the trampled, now grey snow, Red stared toward them. The Sun was there to watch them meeting death. Because why wouldn’t they? What did it really matter to the deities whether they lived or died? He smiled bitterly. They’d spent their entire lives praying and celebrating them. But what good had that done? Here they were, nonetheless.

Music played in the background, loud and cheerful. There were people dancing, he noticed in the corner of his eye. He looked forward instead. The first thing he saw was the gallows. The dark wooden structures were an enormous contrast against the light of everything else, and they were easy to make out. Eye-catching, even. There were so many. More than half the crew could hang at once. Then his eyes travelled, and he froze in his steps. On the beautiful chestnut horse Red had seen him beside before getting thrown into the dungeons, Razz sat. He was dressed in a coat as red as blood and a crown, sitting completely straight and still, and he was beautiful.

His expression was solemn, revealing very little emotion. Yet Red thought he could see sorrow in there, or he might just be imagining things. Even as the guard yanked the rope to make him walk, he didn’t tear his eyes away. Zanã’s light washed over Razz, making the jewels in his crown shine. His eyes seemed bigger than usual, Red noticed. Makeup, perhaps. The bitter smile melted into something more bittersweet. At least Razz was here for the Big Day, huh? Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing to be the last thing you ever saw. Razz, in all his beauty and glory.

Nearby, Red noticed Blueberry and Stretch, to his surprise. What the hell did they do here? Why weren’t they in Pirate’s Port- his eyes flickered to Razz. He’d taken them with him. The thought warmed his soul for a moment. He was glad Blueberry wasn’t stuck there forever. They were staring at him, holding hands tightly. Blueberry was crying.

They were lined up just under the huge structures for a short moment before the guards forced them to climb the stairs up on the platforms. Fell and Undyne got the two first, while he was taken farther away. When he passed by Fell, he finally looked away from Razz, who had yet not met his eyes. He walked as slowly as he could, gazing up at his twin who stood proud but obviously afraid as the snare was prepared. “i love ya, bro.”

Fell shakily smiled down at him. “I love ya too.”

As he passed Undyne, he made a quick decision. Staring up at her, he clenched his hands and said, “i haven’ told ya before, ‘dyne, but i love ya as well, like a sister.”

She grinned down at him, even as he could see her eyes getting wet. “I know, lil’ bro.”

Neither of them had time to say more as Red was taken a few ropes away before he was stopped. The guard stopped him there, but didn’t put a snare around his neck just yet. The executioner wasn’t done with Fell’s yet. It felt like he stood there for an eternity, with the rope creaking and the crowd cheering and laughing beneath them. With Razz staring at him sombrely, but not once meeting his eyes. Instead Razz was staring at the gallows itself.

Then, the executioner finally reached him. Red swallowed as the snare was secured around his throat. Death was almost here. Just please, please, please, he thought, throwing out a last prayer to the deities and the Pravannala, let them return to Peosana after the execution. Let them go home.

Glancing to the side, he saw that everyone on the gallows had a snare around their throat. Only a few crewmembers were not up on the platforms. Red didn’t envy them. If there was one thing he was grateful for, it was that he didn’t need to watch his friends and family die before meeting Death himself.

As the executioner and the guards stepped down from the platform, his eyes finally caught Razz. His purple pupils – such a lovely colour – were wide. Razz opened his mouth, but didn’t seem to be able to make a noise, and Red smiled at him. He didn’t blame him. Not at all. A pirate’s life wasn’t worth a throne, he understood that. He had never expected to be worth anything to anyone but his uncle, his mother’s cousin, Fell, and Undyne, so that Razz even felt sadness was enough for him, even if he didn’t wish the other to mourn.

“For the kidnapping of His Royal Majesty Queen Razz the Fourth, by the time Crown Princess Razz-” someone declared. Red didn’t bother to look who, instead just continuing to watch Razz. The only person he’d ever loved romantically, and the only one outside of his family and the crew he’d loved at all. “-the captain and crew of the ship Sarynthia are hereby sentenced to death, and the punishment will be carried out immediately. Your Majesty, do you have anything to add?”

For a moment, Razz face went completely blank. Red’s bittersweet smile widened. Go on. Condemn them. Show his people what he was worth. Then the other’s expression turned determined, and he opened his mouth to speak-

A scream rang out from the crowd, stopping him. Razz jerked, and Red finally stopped staring at him as another scream followed. The crowd was pointing at the sky above, and more exactly, at Zanã. They were- they were disappearing. Red stared upwards in horror before he quickly ducked his head, bowing as much as he could without choking himself. The few crewmembers who did not have snares around their throats fell to their knees. His soul pounded in fear. He did not know what was going on. Were the dark spirits in fact coming? Was Zanã unhappy? Gritting his fangs together, he cursed the handcuffs and snare which prevented him from bowing properly.

The screaming had increased, loud and shrill, before a woman’s voice somehow drowned them out. “Calm down! It is the Mother who wishes to tell us something! There is no need to panic! It is not the End Times, we have not seen the Wolf.”

Slowly, the screaming ceased. Resisting the urge to look down, Red fought down the panic inside his own mind. Why would Zanã disappear? Why was everything going dark? It was the middle of the day.

“High Priestess, may I speak with you?” Razz’s voice suddenly came, somehow sounding relieved. It was very strange, Red couldn’t help but think. Why would he be so calm when the world might be ending? Their Mother wouldn’t be able to help them if Zanã had been devoured or if they had decided to punish Natéa.

Then it was just as dark as the darkest night, without stars or Zalû to give it light. Red stood frozen, not even daring to move. His soul was still beating so hard it felt like it was trying to escape his ribcage. Then, Razz’s voice came again. “AS IT APPEARS TO BE THE MOTHER’S WILL, AND IN HONOUR OF MY UPCOMING CORONATION, I HAVE COME TO A DECISION.”

“THE CREW OF SARYNTHIA, AS WELL AS ITS CAPTAIN, WILL BE SHOWN MERCY. IN THE NAME OF THE MOTHER, I PARDON THEM. FREE THEM FROM THEIR CHAINS AND SNARES.”

For a few moments, Red couldn’t process what he had just heard. Razz- pardon- Then the noise of scrambling chains appeared just as light began to return to the world, and he felt tears well up in his eyes. They were- Razz had- Finally he dared to look up at Zanã again, only for a short moment, and they were beginning to return. The dark nothing which had covered them was disappearing.

“thank ya,” he mumbled reverently. The deities hadn’t abandoned them. They would- they would live. His throat felt thick as he continued to mumble out his gratitude. Similar words came from the crewmembers closest to him as well. “thank ya, thank ya, thank ya.”

Then the rope was cut away from his throat, and the chains around his wrists unlocked. By now Zanã had fully returned, the world was as bright as always. Nevertheless, he bowed deeply for them. They’d need to find something great to sacrifice to show their gratitude. To thank the deities for saving their lives. Then he finally looked up, and his eyes met Razz’s for a moment. Razz smiled quickly before his expression turned neutral again.

“TAKE THEM BACK TO THE CASTLE,” he commanded the guards. “GET THEM SOMETHING PROPER TO EAT.”

A confused murmur broke out among the crowd, and Red could see a few of the people who must be nobles stare at Razz in surprise and dislike, but no one spoke. Then the guards moved to obey, and Red finally straightened his back. Unable to help himself, he grinned widely, his entire body sagging in relief, and he turned to look at Fell and Undyne, who both looked just as disbelieving as he felt. They grinned back at him.

Then his mind and body registered Razz’s words, and his stomach growled. Deities, he was starving.

#on a never resting sea #swapfell #underswap #underfell #sf sans #uf sans #us sans #uf papyrus #sf papyrus #us papyrus #blackcherry #sf alphys #uf undyne #nrs pt. 15 #it got so long i had to cut it into two #but i'll try to get the next chapter up on monday or so

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