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freddieslater · 2 years

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Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Bevie | Ben Florian/Evie Grimhilde (Descendants)

Requested by anonymous

Ben gives her a funny look, then ducks his head as he laughs. Evie stares at him, open-mouthed. Her face begins to flush as he tries to apologise and compose himself.

"What?" she demands. "What did I say?"

"Nothing! It's..." He clears his throat and looks up at her from beneath his lashes. God, it's unfair for them to be so naturally pretty. She would kill for eyelashes like that.

Oh no. She's staring. She is definitely staring, and he probably thinks she's really weird. She tries to keep her face a mask of offence rather than admiration.

"You..." Ben's tongue pokes out between his lips and he looks away from her, cheeks dimpled with a smile. "Well, you called me cute."

Her neck and face burn harder than before with the flames of utter embarrassment. She bites down on her tongue as she tries to think of how to salvation this humiliation; what would her mother do?

Well, for her it wouldn't be an embarrassment. She would grasp this moment between her wrinkled little claws and brainwash the pretty prince into marrying her and making her queen. That's what she would say to her. Charm him. Make him fall in love.

"Oh," she breathes, then swallows. Her throat's oddly scratchy. She flexes her fingers in her lap, finding comfort in the familiar material of her dress. "Um... sorry?"

"No, it's fine," Ben says with a shrug. "Not often I hear that, so I'll take it, even if it was an accident."

He flashes her a grin. Her mother hisses in her head like a poisonous little snake. She's doing it without even trying, he's falling for her.

Except he's not. He's her friend. He's a prince. He's Ben. The soon-to-be King of Auradon. Of course he isn't falling for her, how could he? She's an airhead with a wicked witch of a mother. At least, that's what everyone else has been saying since she got to Auradon.

"Hey, you okay?" Ben asks, putting down his own pen as he peers at her in concern. "It's really not a big deal. It's an easy mistake. Learning a new language is really hard."

"No one else here seems to find it hard," she mutters bitterly. Why can she not just be like the rest of them? By all rights, she's supposed to be a princess, and yet she has never felt more like an outsider than she does in a castle full of royalty.

"Hey." Ben reaches out and rests a hand on top of hers. She freezes, unsure of what to do. "It's not just you, I promise. Everyone has trouble with something. Just, no one likes to admit it."

She wants to believe him. To believe that it really isn't just her who has these problems and that everyone else isn't as perfect as they seem. After all, everyone for so long thought her own mother was a perfect queen, perfect wife and perfect stepmother until the illusion shattered like a broken mirror.

"So, it's taking some time to learn a new language," Ben continues softly. "That's normal. In fact, it took me an extra three months more than everyone else to learn how to talk at all. My father blames it on my mama's insistence on me learning both French and English."

Evie finally looks at him, surprised. He smiles and nods to confirm he's being entirely honest. She's not sure he's even capable of telling a lie. He's far too good and honest for that. Like his mother, she's heard.

"And, not only that, but I had to spend months practising to even get on the Tourney team. As it turns out, I'm not a natural at sports."

"No," Evie says, now certain he must be exaggerating, but he nods even more firmly. "But -- you're amazing at Tourney! You're the captain of the team!"

"Because I kept practising," Ben says. "I worked really hard. And while it really bothered me that Chad and Li'l always seemed to just know what they were doing on the field while I would be falling over or kicking grass, I didn't let it stop me."

He raises his eyebrows pointedly and she gets what he's trying to say.

She takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with air while he fills her head with confidence. He's right. It was one little mistake. Hardly the end of the world. She just needs to keep trying. Eventually, it'll all be worth it.

"Okay," she says, and he smiles brightly, taking his hand back to pick up his pen again. She oddly misses the feeling of it on her own. "So, what did I say?"

"Tu es mignon," Ben says so smoothly. "Your pronunciation was great, though, especially since you didn't even know what you were saying."

She repeats what he said, then smiles to herself proudly. "Well, at least I now know one phrase. And it makes you smile, so it's obviously a good one to know."

Ben shakes his head lightly at her as he laughs again. She swears his own cheeks look rather flushed. He isn't protesting the compliment though.

"I should still probably teach you how to say something other than that, though. Like... Je ne peux pas m’empêcher de penser à toi."

Evie blinks. "Uh... could you maybe... say that again... slowly?"

Ben just smiles to himself like he has some inside secret, rubbing at his bottom lip with his thumb. "It's okay, we'll get there in time. Let's stick to the basics for now. Sound good?"

She breathes a sigh of relief and nods, smiling back at him as she poises her pen once again over her paper. "Yes."

"J’aime ton sourire," Ben exhales softly.

Before she can ask for a translation and a repeat, he brushes it off and begins explaining simple greetings to her, and the way that verbs and nouns and pronouns all work in French. They're probably sitting there in the library going over it for at least an hour or two more, with Evie actually laughing at her mistakes but not getting upset over them.

#descendants #ben florian #evie grimhilde #ben x evie #evie x ben #bevie #rowing the rarepair rowboat #rarepair rowboat #I just think they're perfect for each other #like descendants would've made WAY more sense if evie was the main character and had the whole romance with ben #she wanted A PRINCE #HE'S RIGHT THERE #also please let me know if any of the french is wrong I had to use a couple of different websites to ensure I didn't mess any translations #up but you know what the internet is like something might still be wrong especially since I am in no way fluent #not even slightly

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descendantsshipweeks · 1 year

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Bevie Week prompts just dropped!

To participate in one or all of the days, just post your Ben x Evie work - fanart, fanfic, drabble or headcanons - tagged with #bevie week 2023

#descendants ship weeks 2023 #evie descendants #descendants ben #ben x evie #evie x ben #bevie #bevie week #bevie week 2023 #bevieweek2023

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olithetalker · 1 year

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Have began reading the first Isle of the Lost book. Four chapters in and I feel so protective of Evie and bitter toward bully Mal.

Is it not enough that Mal will go on to steal Evie's soulmate?

#disney descendants #Descendants #descendants evie #evie descendants #evie daughter of the evil queen #isle of the lost #melissa de la cruz #ben x evie #Evie x Ben #Benvie #bevie #evie x Ben

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teamstorybooks · 2 months

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E se...? E se fosse eu e não ela? - Bevie

N/A: Parte I.

“Os invejosos só invejam algo que no fundo eles queriam ter. Eu particularmente a invejo todos os dias, por causa dele. ”

- Eu.

A inveja podia se tornar uma coisa que corromperia e destruiria as pessoas, amores e famílias.

Que destruiria possivelmente uma amizade para sempre.

Mais não era da inveja que ela tinha medo. Era dela. Dos seus sentimentos.

Do medo que um dia Mal descobrisse e que ela não entendesse que era apenas uma inveja inofensiva, algo que ela apenas admirava e também queria. Algo que eventualmente acabava por acontecer entre amigas. Mais aí estava o problema, a inveja não era inofensiva e a prova disso era a sua mãe e como a sua história tinha acabado.

Sozinha. Amargurada. Como um espelho quebrado.

E Evie tinha se prometido desde que tinha aprendido o conceito de felizes para sempre que nunca repetiria a mesma história. Que nunca seria a vilã do seu conto de fadas.

Mais primeiro ela tinha que se convencer de que era apenas inveja e não algo mais. Tinha que ser inveja, seria melhor para todos que fosse uma inveja idiota de melhores amigas e a grama do vizinho sempre parecer ser mais verde. Por que a inveja podia ser combatida e o algo mais...

Feixe os olhos e respire. Deixe ir. Esse era o seu mantra nos últimos dias. Deixe ir.

Como tudo isso tinha começado com algo inofensivo? Como um desejo idiota de ter o mesmo pode me transformar nisso? Como eu não posso deixar de me perguntar o que poderia ter sido se fosse eu e não ela?

Mais deveria ser Mal aquela a ter esses tipos de pensamentos. Deveria ser ela a olhar o namorado da melhor amiga e desejar está no seu lugar. Deveria ser ela... Afinal Evie o tinha visto primeiro. Afinal ela era a princesa e amiga perfeita.

Ela era perfeita.

E ela ainda podia se lembrar de todas as palavras que o tinha lhe dirigido e todas que ele tinha falado com ela. Elas tocavam sem parar na sua cabeça como um disco quebrado, como se esperasse que de repente acontecesse algo acontecesse, que lhe dessem algum sinal. Qualquer coisa que pudesse mudar a situação atual.

“ – Você me ganhou com o príncipe. – Disse se aproximando de Ben e estendendo a mão. – Evie, filha da rainha do mal. – Olhando seus olhos azuis e sorrindo, sorriso esse que logo foi retribuído. - O que me faz uma princesa voc... – Ela foi interrompida antes que pudesse continuar pela antiga e muito chata namorada dele. Audrey.

- Sua mãe não tem título aqui. – Falou Audrey. – O que te faz... Bem nada. ”

“ – Evie, Evie! – O ouviu gritar o seu nome do final do corredor e o viu correndo até você.

Não pode controlar a si mesma abrindo um belo sorriso quando o viu ofegante na sua frente mesmo com o risco que lhe dessem rugas.

- Eu estava procurando por você. – falou e naquele momento ela jurou que todo o mundo poderia ouvir o seu coração perder uma batida e recomeçar a bater contra o seu peito.

- Você estava? – disse ainda sorrindo.

- Sim. – Respondeu e continuou meio tímido. - Você é muito amiga da Mal, não é?

Se ela não tivesse sido criada pela rainha do mal, se ela não entendesse o conceito de manter as aparências.... Ela poderia ter transformado o seu belo sorriso em uma careta decepcionada. Mais ela era a filha da Queen of evil, ela não fazia caretas decepcionadas e principalmente não para príncipes bonitos.

- Você poderia me ajudar com ela? Eu quero a chamar para sair mais não sei do que ela gosta. – Perguntou com um sorriso esperançoso.

- Sim. – Ela mantinha o sorriso no rosto e enfrentava a situação.

Não importava o quanto ela odiasse.

- Sim eu vou te ajudar com ela.”

Ela se lembrava em como Ben tinha lhe agradecido e depois voltado toda a sua atenção para Mal.

Mal que era a garota interessante. Mal era quem inspirava aventura e perigo. Um desafio.

Um desafio bom demais para ser recusado. E todos sabem que garotos amam desafios.

E Mal teria um encontro incrível graças a Evie.

E depois disso não ouve mais diálogos entre eles. Apenas um oi aqui ou um tchau ali.

E de repente era inegável olhares que ele lançaria para a sua amiga quando ela passava pelos corredores.

E foi então que ela começou a sentir. A inveja.

Inveja dos olhares e aparente inconsciência de Mal sobre o assunto.

Inveja do que eles tinham. Do que ela queria ter.

Então veio a primeira distração. Chad (que obviamente não deu certo por razões que nem precisa listar), o príncipe que a sua mãe provavelmente teria escolhido. Mais ela não era a sua mãe e nem estava mais sobre sua influência.

Ela era mais do que apenas Evie a princesa perfeita que faria tudo por um príncipe.

Ela era a garota de cabelo azul que arrasava na moda e costura, que tirava notas altas e não tinha mais medo de demonstrar as suas reais opiniões. Ela era doce e criativa.

O que nos leva a sua segunda distração. Doug.

Se bem que não podemos chama-lo assim. Ele era bem mais que isso.

Seu doce e adorado Doug, seu amigo mais querido.

Amigo. Por que apesar de terem tentado um relacionamento (era necessário algo mais do que amizade e incentivo) e ter sido ótimo por um tempo. Foi tudo o que foi ótimo.

Sem fogos, sem chamas e sem bruxas más que se transformam em dragões para assombra-los. As vezes ótimo não era o bastante, as vezes ótimo era chato e precisava de emoção.

E Evie não pararia de procurar até encontra o que eles tinham. Até encontrar alguém como ele.

Mais no fundo ela sabia que não era inveja e muito menos admiração. Era o resultado de uma pergunta que não conseguia tirar da cabeça. E se...? E se fosse eu e não ela?

Não era mais inveja ela disse para si mesmo era só admiração, algo que eu devo olhar quando estiver procurando um relacionamento.

Como seria?

Você riria? Me olharia como olha para pra ela? Ou seria melhor?

E quando você me beijasse seria como se mil estrelas cadentes descessem do céu naquele momento?

E se... Duas palavras estupidas.

#bevie #evie #Ben #descendants #evie x ben #Ben x evie

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kaiyaamin · 4 months

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Can you do headcanons for Ben x daughter of Scar!reader

OMG yessss

Ben x Daughter of Scar!reader

Ben definitely fell first and harder for Y/N.

When Ben first met Y/N he was instantly in love with her. He was a little shy to get to know her so he left her love poems and notes every day in her locker. He did not know if she liked it because she never showed emotion.

Y/n on the other hand absolutely loved it and it made her feel loved by someone, she was dying to know their secret identity.

Even though Y/N gave Ben a love cookie it felt too real to be fake. He gave her a dance and song routine that was surprisingly coordinated for being planned last minute.

During the coronation Ben told Y/N the love potion wore off, he finally had the guts to admit he loved her and had been leaving her the love notes in her locker. Let's just say she was so happy she was practically on top of him giving him kisses all over his face.

Ben lavished Y/N with gifts all the time anything she wanted she would get and let me tell you, she definitely used it to her advantage.

Ben took Y/N on picnic dates, movie dates even Netflix and chill dates and Ben was surprising an amazing cook and enjoyed cooking on their dates, it was so romantic a candlelight dinner.

Y/N was a natural lady of the court and a future queen. Growing up with her father Scar, he taught her everything about being a ruler. Ben couldn't be any prouder.

Y/N had kept a secret that only the Vk's and her father knew. She inherited her father's power, allowing her to change into a lion whenever she wanted. She was scared Ben wouldn't like her anymore if she told him.

After so much time apart from Ben because of his kingly duties and Y/N and Evie working on a VK's exchange program, which lets the villain kids come live in Aurdon, she realized she must tell Ben the truth no matter what.

She told Ben and waited for his reaction only for her to be shocked when Ben started squealing seeing his beautiful girlfriend a lion.

From this point forward he started to nuzzle her head and scratch behind her ear which had Y/N cuddling him. Man was it paradise.

Ben didn't think he could love her anymore but boy was he wrong. He never left her side and appreciated her for being able to tell him her secret.

They lived happily ever after THE END!

#king ben x reader #king ben #ben florian #descendants ben #ben x reader #lion king #descendants #ben descendants #descendants ben imagines #ben descendants x reader #disney descendants #mal descendants #evie descendants #jay descendants #carlos de vil #carlos descendants

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kybee1497 · 1 year

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Descendants Incorrect Quotes - 2/?

#I’m so sorry they’re blurry #it’s a barren wasteland of blurry screen grabs and carefully curated YouTube selection #descendants #descendants incorrect quotes #kiwis incorrect quotes #mal x ben #mal bertha #ben florian #audrey rose #doug son of dopey #evie grimhilde #jay descendants #carlos de vil #chad charming #jaylos #mevie #bal

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handsometheo · 9 months

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HELP I'M GOING THROUGH A DESCENDANTS PHASE AND THERE'S NO STOPPING IT

I'm so in love with Harry Hook honestly, and Uma. I mainly love d2 but honestly I'm tempted to write fics for descendants characters

Mostly Harry

I just love the pirates so so much

Okay I'm writing at least one fic for descendants, I may need people to suggest stuff for me

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spcebtwn · 9 months

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burning red

Pairing: Audrey Rose/Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: language, smut, angst w a happy ending if you catch my drift ;), soulmarks, implied fem reader but i believe it could be read as gn

Summary: Audrey always looks away like it's a choice, like it means she's the winner. It makes your teeth ache, how blatant she is.

You meet your soulmate on your first day at Auradon Prep.

It’s clear from the get-go she wants nothing to do with you. She reeks of royalty—dressed in pink, her hair meticulously styled, her teeth blindingly white. Around her neck hangs a diamond that would impress even your mother—your eyes zero in on it for a moment, the way your mother has trained you to do. There wasn’t anything on the Isle you couldn’t steal for her. Unless, of course, Jay got to it first. He doesn’t seem to notice the necklace, though. You’re the only one focused on the princess. It’s embarrassing, but nobody seems to notice that either.

She smells like vanilla and roses, so much so you’re hardly surprised when her last name ends up being the latter. Even less so when she turns her nose at you, smile going frigid the moment you speak to her. You watch as she subconsciously fiddles with the neckline of her dress, and wonder if that’s where she’s hiding your mark. It makes resentment bubble in your chest, knowing that you’ll probably never get to see.

You huff and try to taper down the resentment before it can bloom into something else. If you’ve gone this long alone, you can do it forever. Your mother has.

(You don’t think about what that’s done to her.)

—

Audrey quickly becomes an antagonist—to both the mission and your life in general. She’s a problem because she’s Ben’s girlfriend, but Mal has to be Ben’s girlfriend. She’s a problem because she lurks in the hallways whenever you try to discuss anything relating to the wand. She’s a problem because every time she catches your eye, she’ll pull Ben down into what looks like a bruising kiss, eyes fiery, like they’re saying this is what you can’t have. This is what I want.

You’re never the first to break eye contact. Haven’t backed down from a challenge since the first time Jay tried—and failed—to pickpocket you. It doesn’t do anything, though. She always looks away like it’s a choice, like it means she’s the winner. It makes your teeth ache, how fucking blatant she is. Shoulder checking you in the hallway like you’re boys. Slamming her locker closed whenever you pass. Rubbing Ben in your face like it means something, like their whole relationship isn’t a lie. You wonder if she hides her mark from him, too. If he’s ever seen her without those high necklines, the starched collars. A sick sort of satisfaction fills you at the thought you know something he doesn’t. That you’ve never seen it either, but you know it’s there.

Mal slips Ben a love cookie. You enjoy the affronted look on Audrey’s face for about five seconds before she’s yanking Chad down and swapping spit with him. She doesn’t look at you while she does it. It’s for her, for once. You bet she’s not even thinking about you.

You clench your jaw and look away. In a month, you won’t ever have to worry about her. You’ll have everything you want.

—

It’s two weeks before the coronation and the sight of Audrey and Chad in the hallway makes you sick.

With Ben, you could tell yourself she was just doing it because her parents wanted her to be queen. Maybe even because she wanted to be queen. But it wasn’t anything real. You could tell in the performance of it all. The Benny-boos. The hand holding. Her eyes sliding to you anytime Ben kissed her on the cheek, a smirk painted on her face like she was proving something. Because she was. Ben was a desperate attempt to prove something to herself.

Chad is something else entirely.

He’s more classically handsome than Ben. Bigger, stronger. Douche-ier. He flings an arm over Audrey anytime they’re close enough. It’s casual like he’s done it a thousand times. He kisses her like that, too. Like it’s an afterthought. She doesn’t make it showy, doesn’t look at you. She just sits there looking pretty and takes it. Hugs, kisses, any form of PDA you could imagine. Like she wants it. Like she likes it.

You grow used to the feeling of your stomach churning. Can’t look at Chad’s stupid face without feeling it.

You’ve gone to the bathroom to escape the sight of them in the hallway, smiling at each other like it’s the real deal. It makes you want to puke. You splash water in your face and stare up at yourself in the mirror. At your hair, combed but not shiny, not pretty like hers. Like Chad’s. Your makeup starts and ends with the chapstick Evie insists you use. Looking pretty on the Ise made you stand out. You never got good at it, and now it’s too late. You wonder if Audrey would look your way if you were prettier. If you looked something closer to royalty.

The door slams open and you blink, startled but not enough to show it. It’s Audrey—of course it is. She rushes to the sink without looking at you. In the hallway behind her, you can see Mal and Ben passing. They don’t look at her. Briefly, you feel victorious. Now you know what it feels like, you think. The thought quickly turns sour, though. It’s Ben making her feel like that. Not you.

She notices you eventually. Your face is mostly dry by the time she does. Still, she sneers, like you’re a piece of fucking roadkill on the street. It’s a look you’re familiar with, and a cold feeling of indifference washes over you. “Sorry, princess, bathroom’s all yours,” you say, sliding past her to leave. She huffs, though, and it gives you pause—long enough for her to get a word in.

“I know you did something to him,” she snaps, spinning around to face you. Her ponytail bounces. Her voice doesn’t waver.

Your heart skips a beat as fear begins to take hold. Fear of being caught. “I didn’t do shit,” you say, instinctively. Maybe it’s passing the blame, maybe it’s distracting her.

She glares for a moment before the facade crumbles. Her shoulders fall, her eyes pinching further, like she’s fighting back tears. Fear is replaced with guilt so suddenly it feels like whiplash. “He was my best friend,” she says, choked and quiet. Her eyes are shiny.

The same forces that branded her first words to you on your skin—And I’m Audrey, his girlfriend—tell you to comfort her. Tell you to wipe her tears. To kiss the skin they’ve stained. But you think about her and Chad in the hallway. You think about her beatific grin as she kisses him, kisses Ben. You think about the way she’d glared down at you that first day, cold as the dead of winter on the Isle. You think about the cool distant pain you feel in your chest every time you look at her, and you want to make her hurt, too. “Well, I guess he changed his mind,” you say, turning on your heels and storming off before you can think about how the sound she makes sounds suspiciously like a sob.

If it is, you’ve succeeded in making her hurt. It doesn’t make you feel better.

—

Evie makes a list of all the things she wants once the villains take over.

She wants a castle with fourteen bedrooms and a marble staircase and mother-in-law suite. She wants the spindle Maleficent cursed, all those years ago. She wants access to any wardrobe in Auradon she deems fit. Above all, she wants Chad Charming by her side. You don’t know if he’s her soulmate or not. At the very least, it’s clear she wants him to be. You wish she’d do something about it. Make it so you didn’t have to see him touch Audrey ever again.

Evie asks you what it is that you want—but that’s the only thing you can think of. Audrey, away from Chad. Away from Ben. You don’t even care if she’s with you or not. As long as she stops pretending like she could ever want somebody else.

You bite your tongue. Say diamonds, because it’s expected of you. Evie rolls your eyes, familiarly. “Of course you do,” she sighs, staring wistfully down at her list. Chad’s name is in hearts. You watch her write diamonds underneath it and feel sick to your stomach.

Because as much as you may lie to yourself, you know damn well you don’t want any diamonds.

—

It doesn’t matter if you want diamonds or Audrey or a goddamn unicorn to ride through town on. Because coronation day comes, and nothing happens.

Well. A lot happens.

The villains don’t rain down in a parade of hellfire. Auradon isn’t taken by Maleficent. Evie doesn’t get her castle, or her spindle, or Chad. But you get a scolding. A group hug. A weight off your shoulders. Maleficent is smaller than your feet now, and you don’t have to worry about taking over the world. Audrey doesn’t dance with Chad at the afterparty. She still doesn’t look at you, but she doesn’t look at him either. It does something to quell the bone deep ache you’ve become so accustomed to.

That night, you fall asleep in your dorm and think of nothing. Absolutely nothing. There’s only one thing to think about any more. And you know she isn’t thinking about you.

—

Evie does get Chad, eventually. Doug, too. She stops wearing those tights all the time, lets people see their words circling her calves, one on each leg. They sit with her at lunch now. Join all the group hang outs. You’ve got Chad and Doug and Ben, and Jane, too, has snuck her way in, sticking by Carlos’ side as if she’s still scared of the rest of you. Jay likes scaring her. You like laughing at it.

The point is, you’ve got everybody except Audrey. So it’s only a matter of time before she starts hanging around, too. It’s almost too much for you to take, her being everywhere, all the time. Inescapable. The scent of her perfume—vanilla and roses—follows you everywhere. You could choke on it. She doesn’t talk to you, not really. You communicate through everybody else. Argue with Ben at the same time you’re really arguing with each other. Passing messages without actually saying anything. Eye contact over the table. Glares, mostly. She may accept the VKs as human now, but certainly not as her soulmate. It makes you hate her, a little bit. As much as you want her, you hate her, too.

Because it hurts. Not having her hurts. It’s driven people mad before, having a soulmate out of reach. Having a soulmate so blatantly reject you. Sometimes you’re surprised you’re still standing, when she can talk about some new boy she’s dating right in front of you. It hurts right behind your ribs, makes breathing hard. You don't know how you took it, when she would kiss Ben and Chad right in front of you. Seeing her smile at somebody is torture. You’re not sure how much longer you can take it.

—

Evidently, not long.

It’s Thanksgiving break, and you’re expected to stay at the school with the other kids who live too far away or have nowhere to go. But Ben invites you all to stay at the castle with him, and you’re sure as hell not going to refuse.

There’s a bedroom for each of you. You haven’t had a bed wider than you are long ever. You don't let yourself enjoy it, though. You’ve only got a week before it’s back to the XL twin, to the shared room with Mal and Evie. Still, it feels nice. Sprawling out, suitcase abandoned on the floor, everybody far enough away that you could probably scream and they wouldn’t hear it. You figure the week is going to be the best one you’ve had in a while.

Until Audrey shows up.

Your stomach drops at the sight of her. She doesn’t have a bag, won’t be staying here like you are, at least. But the thought that she could just drop by whenever she likes is enough to put you on edge. You hate that this is the way she makes you feel. Anxious and angry. You’re supposed to be in love. You’re supposed to be able to look at her without it hurting. To spend time together, even if it’s not every waking second like Mal and Ben, or Evie, Doug, and Chad. Even if it’s not something smitten like the thing between Carlos and Jane. Not puppy love, because it could never be. Not after everything that’s happened.

Maybe it would be biting and fast and hard. Something closer to what Jay has with Harry, back on the Isle. Maybe her tongue would still be sharp and her gaze could still be icy, but it wouldn’t matter, because you’d know she wants you, likes you, loves you. You don’t know anything now. It’s all up in the air. That, or it’s been shot down. Missing in action. Her eyes pass over you with indifference, and it makes you want to keel over, to sink into the floor.

You sit next to her in the den instead. You can feel her muscles are tight, squeezed up in an attempt to avoid any contact possible. Her sharp intakes of breath every time you shift are close enough to something to quiet the buzzing under your skin.

—

Audrey is around more than you could possibly imagine, or prepare for.

She and Ben are close again now. He was my best friend echoes in your ear every time they laugh, smile, hug, anything. It makes no sense to be jealous. Still, you are. You’d do anything to be Audrey’s friend. But she doesn’t even want that from you.

She talks to you more now, at least. Would be strange not to. You all make cookies one night—non-love-spelled—and Audrey mutters instructions to you as you work around each other in the kitchen. Pass the flour, go get the milk, don’t overmix. You follow mindlessly, too caught up in the fact that she’s acknowledging your existence to care that she’s bossing you around. You wouldn’t mind if she slapped you in the face, as long as she looked at you while she did it.

When the cookies are done, they’re perfect. Better than any of the other batches. Audrey nods at you when they come out. It’s so much in terms of what she’s done before. Nowhere near enough in terms of what you want her to do.

You eat the damn cookies and sulk when she chooses Ben to sit next to, yet again. Jay stares at you with something like sympathy when you plop down next to him for whatever required viewing Ben’s chosen for tonight, but when you glance over at Audrey, her mark is still covered, as always. Yours, too. Jay’s always been perceptive though. Has to be, in your line of work. Maybe he doesn’t need to see a mark to figure out something’s going on.

You ignore his questioning gaze until he finally turns away. He wants to talk, but there’s nothing to tell. Never will be, with the way things are going.

—

“Oh, Audrey doesn’t have a soulmate,” Chad remarks from across the room. He’s stretched across Doug and Evie’s legs, looking content and careless. He doesn’t even look up as he speaks.

You’re not sure how you’ve gotten to the topic, only know that Audrey suddenly looks intensely uncomfortable. She avoids eye contact with you, shrugs when everybody else turns to stare at her. White hot rage fills your core at the thought that she could so easily deny the fact that she’s tied to you, that the universe itself has decided you’re meant for each other. You bristle and stand up, your legs carrying you away before you can do anything stupid, say anything stupider.

As you make your way to your room, the last thing you expect is for Audrey to follow.

“Why don't you just tell everybody, huh?” she asks, pushing behind you through your bedroom door. She speaks in a harsh whisper, as if anybody could hear her all the way up here. “It would be almost as obvious as that scene.”

When you turn around to face her, her cheeks are red with embarrassment. The air around you feels hot, the way it always does when she's close. “According to Chad, I have nothing to tell,” you spit, not even a little ashamed of how pathetic it sounds. If you're pathetic, then so is she. This whole thing is pathetic.

“You know that's not true,” she says, crossing her arms. Her eyes dart down to the floor, like you're not even good enough to look at.

“Do I?” you ask, refusing to whisper like she is. “For all I know, some other girl is gonna introduce herself as Audrey, his girlfriend and none of this will matter anymore!”

You won't matter anymore, you want to say but can't. It looks like she hears it anyway.

She scoffs. “Sorry I’m not as good as some other girl, then,” she says, which is just about the craziest thing she could say. The stupidest thing she could say.

You think about Ben. About Chad. About her cruel smile as she kissed them, held their hands in the hallway. About how she'd rather be with them than with you, seemingly would rather be with anyone than with you. “You know that's not the point.”

It's silent for a moment. You aren't sure what to say to her, if there's anything to say. Any words you have are cruel, and the thought of hurting her more makes your throat close up, a little.

She doesn't feel the same, though. “You can't give me what I want,” are the next words to leave her mouth. Your eyes shut on their own accord, as if that'll somehow make the rejection feel better. You can't give her what she wants. All you want is her.

It's bullshit, you think, suddenly. She feels the same way you do. She has to. “And what is that?” you ask, stepping closer to her. She backs up against the wall, but meets your gaze. It seems like a challenge, but that may be wishful thinking. “What do you want? To be queen? Because that ship has sailed.”

She says nothing, but she doesn't look away either. If she won't back down, then neither will you. “I know you don't want Chad,” you continue. “Is it the hiding you like? Do you want to lie to everybody for the rest of your life?”

“Okay,” she says, and it sounds like she's surrendering, but you just can't stop that you've started, now that she's finally listening to you.

You step closer, the heat becoming almost unbearable. “What is it, Audrey? Because I’m starting to think you hate me just to hate me.”

“That’s enough.” She places a hand on your chest, and you freeze, the entire world minimizing to that point of contact. She's never touched you before. It feels like her palm is made of dynamite.

She's staring down at her own hand, eyes wide but brows furrowed. Her cheeks are flushed. You can't stop yourself.

When you finally kiss her, sparks ignite under your skin. You always thought it was cliche, but now you know why so many people use that metaphor. Everywhere you touch her is like fireworks, like the universe rewarding you for finally giving in. She makes a noise of surprise, caught in her throat, but she doesn't pull away. After a moment of terrifying stillness, you do, scared you've messed it up, scared she’ll hate you even more now, scared she’ll run away the second you're off of her.

She does none of these things. The second you come up for air, the hand on your chest moves to the back of your neck. It's hot even through the layers of your hair, but what's hotter is the way she pulls you down with a haggard breath, so hard your foreheads knock together for a moment. You hardly notice it. Her skin is warm against you. You touch her where her pretty ironed dress covers it, where her collar hides the mark, hides your mark.

She kisses you like she's drowning for it. It isn't casual, like with Chad. Not for show, like with Ben. It’s desperate and hot and a long time coming. You lift a hand to her hip, thumb rubbing over the bone. You can’t feel her, not really, not through the dress. You want it off. Instead, you opt for ducking your hand underneath it, gripping the swell of her ass. The fabric of her underwear is much thinner, and feels suspiciously lacy. She breaks away for a second to moan, a reedy sound that’s a far cry from her usual polished tone. Her mouth slams shut, like she’s embarrassed, and she surges forward once more before you can comment on it.

You can feel her lipstick rubbing off on your own lips—it’s sticky but you don’t care. Don’t care about anything but her. “Can’t believe you made me wait this long,” you mutter against her lips, knowing you were fully prepared to wait forever.

She leans back against the door, shoulders sagging but hips jutting forward to meet your own. You take the hint and slide a thigh between her legs. “Done waiting,” she says, eyes falling closed as she grinds against the fabric of your pants. “Done caring.”

About what, she doesn’t say. You don’t ask. You hope she'll tell you later, hope this means there’ll be a later. You hope it’s more than just giving in, hope it’s giving up, hope it’s something that’ll last once she walks out. Her hand trails up to the top of your shirt; she tries to pull it down, searching for your mark, and huffs when she can’t find it. “Alright, alright,” you chuckle, brushing her hand off you so you can reach your own down to untuck your shirt, unbuckle your belt, unzip the pants. You have to shove your underwear down a bit for the mark to be visible—it’s sprawled across your hip, a place no garment of clothing doesn’t hide.

Her fingertips brush over it greedily, and it feels like you’re on fire. You wish she’d take the dress off so you could see your own words branding her. But you don’t push, want this to be on her terms, just like everything has been. You do drop your head to her shoulder, let out a ragged breath when her fingers sweep lower, running featherlight over you. You do squeeze your eyes shut and say, “Audrey,” voice low and quiet. Just as encouragement.

Her voice is clipped when she finally says, “Bed.” You obey without second thought, pulling her back with you.

It's only when she’s sitting on the edge of your bed, letting you press open-mouthed kisses to the column of her neck, that you risk tracing your hand up her spine until your fingers come to rest on the zipper of her dress, a question. “Yeah,” she sighs out, head dropping back so she can look at you. “Get a move on, already.”

You grin and obey, a light, “Yes, princess,” coming out of your mouth before you tell it to. You don’t miss her intake of breath, the way her hips shift minutely.

The zipper goes easily, and she stands up to shuck the dress all the way off. There’s so much of her to look at that you don’t know where to start. Except you do. You start at her mark, because where else would you start? It’s stark black, contrasting nicely against her tan skin. The words are tiny, but unmistakable. Clear enough that anybody would know it’s a mark. You still don’t understand why she hides it. It’s not like it bears your name, the way yours does. Not like it makes her any less perfect.

“Thought I told you to get a move on,” she complains, falling back onto the bed.

She lays down and you follow, glad to finally be touching her for real. You touch the mark, with your fingers and then your mouth, kissing the skin there, and she shivers. You let your lips trail down her chest—pausing to work more diligently at her breasts, reveling in her gasps—until you’re lingering just above the hem of her underwear; your suspicion was right, they are lace. She lifts her hips and you take the hint, tugging them down.

You can’t stop yourself from immediately bringing your mouth to her clit, lapping at it until she exhales shakily, a quiet, “Fuck,” falling from her lips.

It’s the filthiest thing you’ve ever heard her say. She even refuses to say oh, my god, instead opting for gosh or goodness or something equally Aurodonian. It feels like you’re taking her apart, and you feel your own core pulsing between your legs at the thought. You bring a finger to join your mouth in teasing at her folds, circling there a few times before you let it slip inside. It goes easily—fuck, she’s wet—and you both moan at the feeling of you inside of her.

You can feel her sink into the bed as you finger her open, almost lazily. You’ve wanted her for so long that you want to enjoy this now that you finally have it. You have a feeling that patience won’t last long though, and your suspicions are proven when Audrey groans and props herself up on her elbows, put-upon.

She stares down at you with a flush that starts high on her cheeks and spreads down to her chest, angry and red, filled with want. There’s a spark in her eyes, and you brace yourself for whatever’s coming. “Gosh,” she starts, breathless. “Chad would’ve already been—”

You push another finger in just to stop her from finishing that sentence. She breaks it off with a gasp, hips lifting from the bed, urging you to go harder, deeper. You do, figuring maybe now is not the time to take things slow, not after you’ve waited so long. Not when she clearly wants to keep this rolling.

You finger her in a manner you know is nothing if not efficient. Though, really, apart from the angle, you don’t have much control in the matter. Audrey’s hips grinding down onto your fingers control how fast, how hard, how deep you go. Still, she gasps out little praises like so good and just like that and knew you’d be perfect for me. It makes your skin feel impossibly hotter, and you squeeze your thighs together in a desperate search for some sort of friction. It quells the need inside you well enough to focus on the matter at hand. Literally.

“Ah,” Audrey moans, sounding fucked out and breathless. “Curl your—um—”

She doesn’t manage to find the word fingers, but you follow the instruction anyway. Her head falls back, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders rising and falling as she pants, hips coming down harder, faster. “Mmm, right there,” she says, pressing her lips together. Her hands are fisted in the sheets so hard you can feel them moving underneath you, and it only makes you redouble your efforts. You can tell she’s close, and when your thumb joins your tongue in laving at her clit, it’s over for her. Her thighs clench around you, hips jolting forward as she gasps. Her walls pulse around you, and you feel like you’re holding her heart in your hand.

You fuck her through it, stopping only when she falls back onto the bed, squirming. Again, you follow, and she kisses you all soft and sweet. Something you never would’ve guessed you’d get. You wish she’d save it for later, though, when you didn’t feel like you were about to explode with want. You wish some of that bite would come back right about now, because even as she curls her fingers in your hair hard enough to sting, you can tell she’s cooling off, winding down. You still feel like you’re on fire, though. “Alright,” she sighs, once she’s caught her breath, pulling away and brushing her hair out of her face. “Your turn.”

You laugh, even as relief floods through your veins. “I was worried there, for a second.”

“No need to fret. I’m very generous,” she promises, crawling down the bed until she’s centered in front of you.

You scoff, but it’s too breathy to be convincing. “Sure you are, princess,” you say, but she’s already wiping what remains of her lipstick off, and looking down at her you find that you really, really can’t refuse.

#descendants #audrey rose #audrey descendants #audrey descendants x reader #audrey rose x reader #evie grimhilde #chad charming #ben florian #mal bertha #jay descendants #is there even an audience for this or am i just posting into the void #can you tell i like people who are mean to me #reader insert

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sl-newsie · 11 months

Text

Spelled (Carlos de Vil x Sanderson Daughter) Ch. 1: Control

“Ouch! No no no- definitely too much moon powder!” I hastily wipe my hands on my dusty skirt as I attempt to put out the purple flames coming out of my cauldron. I’m attempting a healing potion for my cat Twilight, but accidentally misread the spellbook. Mom’s spellbook.

But I’m too late to cover my tracks- I can already hear footsteps approaching outside!

“Magica! What have I told you about practicing magic?” My father yells from the doorway.

Twilight hisses and scrambles out of the kitchen, leaving me to fend for myself.

I cringe and turn around slowly. “Not to?”

My father, a tall buff man wearing a hunter’s cap, stomps into the room. “Yes! What if the Royal Guard was passing by? I don’t want you getting locked away!”

“But I don’t live on the Isle of the Lost, so magic is allowed here!”

“They don’t know-!” He sighs and rubs his head. “Since they don’t know about your mother, it’s best to just keep your magic hidden.”

“But dad, I’m finally getting the hang of this! I think I might write to Fairy Godmother and tell her about my magic-!”

“No!” My father stomps forward and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Magica, you’re my only daughter. If they found out you’re the descendant of a villain they could lock you up. I- I only want what’s best for you, understand? I know you’re proud of this gift and are a very talented witch, but sometimes it’s best to be normal.”

“But- but-!” I can feel my aunt’s temper boiling inside me. “Why should I be different?”

I wrap my cloak around me and storm out into the woods. There’s a secret spot I have near the stream that runs into the Enchanted Lake. It’s a small clearing big enough to practice my magic safely. After I sit down on a boulder I start tearing up, torn between being mad at my father for silencing my magic and being ashamed of being the descendant of an evil witch.

Yup, that’s me. Magica Sanderson, secret daughter of the infamous Sarah Sanderson. From what I’ve gathered, my mother seduced the Evil Queen’s Huntsman so Winifred Sanderson could steal one of her potions. The Huntsman became my father, and when he found out about me he immediately brought me to Snow White’s kingdom to keep me from becoming a VK. But the one thing he couldn’t avoid was the fact that I inherited my Aunt Winnie’s magical talent and my mother’s bewitching looks. I have my mother’s pale fair skin, white-blonde hair, and slim figure. I also inherited my Aunt Winnie’s bright green eyes and Aunt Mary’s love for Cheetos. I can’t help it- I’m a halfblood witch!

Father has tried to suppress my family ties by homeschooling me in our woodland cottage and dressing me in flowy pink dresses just like the goody-two-shoes kids wear at Auradon Prep. When I was old enough to control my powers, father brought me to the Auradon kingdom to meet Prince Ben, son of Beauty and the Beast. Immediately we became inseparable best friends, always causing mischief despite our parents’ disapproval. One time we slipped a hiccup potion into Chad Charming’s drink during a gala social, and spent the next half hour trying not to burst out laughing when he tried hiccuping at Audrey to ask her out! I told Ben about my powers, and he promised to keep it secret. He knows I’m nothing like my mother or aunts, and that I’d never try to hurt anyone.

But even so Ben’s acceptance can’t help fill the gap that separates me from the other kids in the village. I’m still different no matter how hard I try because I don’t have the arrogant, uppity attitude that the other kids have.

Mother, why do I have to be so different? Could I have at least one true friend who won’t disappear?

“Meow?” A voice calls.

I look over and see that Twilight has returned with another black cat- one with recognizable yellow eyes.

I sniff. “Hey, Binx. How’s it been?”

The two felines slink between my legs and rub their noses on my boots.

“Been fine, but from what Twilight’s told me you’re in a bit of a pickle. I know your dad means well, but even I agree that suppressed magic is never a good idea.”

I stop twirling pink sparks on my fingers and give Binx an odd look. “Why?”

Binx glances around nervously. “Well… I’ve heard stories of past maidens that try to bottle up their magic until any sudden breakdown can cause an outburst. Do you remember Elsa of Arendelle?”

The memory of seeing former Queen Elsa’s meltdown on tv runs through my head, and I have to agree that holding back my magic could lead to something worse.

“You’re right, Binx. But I can’t just do some tricks and expect the whole kingdom to be ok with it. I could be sent to Auradon Prep, or worse- the Isle of the Lost! And magic’s forbidden there so I’d be powerless! That and I’d have to live with-” I shutter. “My mom.”

Binx hisses and Twilight swipes a paw against my cheek. “No you won’t. We wouldn’t let that happen, and your father would protect you. I suggest you cool down a bit and then go back to the house.”

I sigh. “I guess so. But how long will I have to hide like this? All my life I’ve followed the rules and been nice, so I’m not wicked… am I?”

“No, no,” Binx assures with a soft voice. “It’s not that, it’s just that normal folks are unsettled by the strange and unusual. It’s like you said, you’ll be sent to Auradon Prep. You don’t want that, do you?”

I gag. “Ugh, no! Ben says all the people there are stuck up and half-witted fools! I would rather eat a toadstool dipped in boysenberry sauce than associate with those idiots!” I stand up and start walking back to the cottage. “Sorry Binx, but right now I better head back to father before supper. I’ll save you some fish!”