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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 6 months

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A DC X DP IDEA #22

Back in my day.

Imagine dis…

Alfred is a whole mystery to the Batfam that whenever he pulls out his shotgun we are in awe at this kickass badass British butler, on the other hand, we are always in the shadows of his past endeavors. We all knew he was a S.A.S. Armed Services, fighting in 15 different operations between ages 18 and 20. A skilled medical and front liner soldier who was decorated. He later joined MI5, as well as the secret forces of the Queen and later being knighted by Her Majesty.

He is silent as he comes by, he can out Batman the Batman despite Bruce learning from the greatest assassin of all time. He is calm, too calm for any situation to the point your subconscious asks if he had seen something wilder, more insane to consider an alien attack, a mutant crocodile attack every Tuesday is considered somewhat tame, or even the rise of global or universal threats that Alfred seemed to brush it off.

So, who is he?

…

Alfred Pennyworth had always been a mysterious figure. He had dedicated his life to serving the Wayne family and their caped crusader alter-egos as Bruce Wayne's loyal butler and the revered keeper of Wayne Manor. But Alfred had held a secret for decades, one that would finally come to light most unexpectedly.

Alfred was a teenager called Danny Fenton long before he donned the perfect suit and tie. He lived in the small town of Amity Park, which was riddled with secrets of its own. Danny was not your typical adolescent; he had a strange encounter with a ghostly gateway that had bestowed upon him unusual and otherworldly skills. He had protected Amity Park from vengeful ghosts and spectral threats thanks to his power to shift into a phantom hero known as Danny Phantom.

Danny had just recently been crowned as the crowned prince of the Infinite Realm a week after he had defeated the tyrant Pariah Dark who had attempted to rip off a space in the fabric of in-between just to suck in his little quaint town. It was determined by both the ancient and the Observants that it was better for him to finish his mortal life before he dawns on the crown, as he was still growing, he was still considered a baby ghost younger than Young Blood as his death was still recent.

But slowly the thoughts that he had kept behind his head are coming back to him. Jazz his beloved sister as well as the one who had raised her despite being a child herself who had no idea of raising a child, may analyze her all she wants but she could never sympathize nor connect with his inner thoughts of being one of the halfas. He died, he never really had the time to process it because he had to face the Lunch Lady just a few days after the accident.

His friends, now looking at them closely, have seen that they both have some sort of guilt in their eyes. They both have seen him die amid the electrician, he can’t help but feel some sort of longing at the cemetery the north of Amity Park, he is too alive to have a grave yet too dead to be alive.

He thought he was getting there, changing the views of the people. To show the world that his kind is sentient but the people kept whispering. Shadows cast long by the looming specters sent chills down their spines. Every eerie wail or flicker of a ghostly presence filled them with dread. Their eyes widened in terror as the ethereal figures materialized before them. A hushed silence fell over the town when ghostly battles raged in the skies. Parents warned their children to stay indoors when the ghost alarms rang. Fearful whispers of the "Ghost Boy" circulated, both a hero and a phantom menace.

The ghostly encounters left scars of fear etched in the minds of Amity Park's residents.

In the end, he was forced to leave his home dimension, why? It’s because the GIW have become more vicious more brutal at their hunting, With the sacrifice of both his friends and family they have shoved him into the portal, never to be seen again.

…

All bloodied and still injured he had landed in a period in the early 1900. He thought that he may have accidentally traveled back in time but when he saw too many conflicting events that he had learned during his high school days that didn’t happen during this time led him to believe that he had traveled a different dimension. Small ripples in the water created a tsunami of change in what he previously known as the past, when he was still in the streets gathering information, he had noticed that he landed in the middle of London during the early 1900s. Good enough that child labor laws are still not a thing so he can work with practically anyone without questions asked. The bad news is that his supposed great-grandfather's version in this dimension had already died, according to his family tree history during his science project in 4th grade his great-grandfather went to London to earn a few bucks before traveling back to America where he would meet his supposed great grandmother and have children. Since he died before he even went back to America the Nightgale-Fenton line died with him.

Luckily a barren couple took pity on him and took him in, since Danny can’t no longer bear his original last name, he embraced the new name from this nice couple who had taken him in. Danny may have felt guilty at the prospect or even the idea of replacing his family but he can’t help but think of it as a new beginning of his life. No one to hunt down his ghostly half, No GIW, and No fruit loop trying to turn him into his heir.

Alfred Pennyworth

During this time he did a lot of odd jobs, cleaning the inside of a chimney, mining, selling newspapers… etc. Sure, it was hard work and he can’t help but look at the children far younger than him taking in jobs far more dangerous just so they can shave something to eat. He can’t help but feel too blessed when he was back in his timeline. Warn food to eat under a sturdy roof to keep out the elements as well as education. Things that were too mundane, too common, that he now feels like a luxury.

Over time he developed an accent as well as new mannerisms and vocabulary.

So, when war broke out on the horizon his core ached at the notion of protection thus signed up in the military.

Sure, he became the most feared soldier in the fields due to his using some of his ghostly abilities subtly. His enemies who stand in front of him call him The Vengeful Orphan, due to his avenging every soldier who seems to die at the hands of their enemies.

Between the ages of 18 and 20, he served in the S.A.S. Armed Services, engaging in 15 different actions. A decorated medical specialist and front-line soldier. He then joined MI5, as well as the Queen's secret forces, and was knighted by Her Majesty.

…

As time passes by the ages, slowly but surely. He had already outlived his adoptive parents and friends of his. He still held the authority of being the officially crowned prince of the Infinite Realms. He had already explored the world experiencing the culture and history of this world.

At this time, he had already recovered enough ectoplasm to turn back to his ghostly prime and create a portal to the Infinite Realms. But something in him nagged, his core kept trying to tell him something when he was about to take a step inside the portal, but he didn’t seem to know why. His years as Phantom and Alfred Pennyworth taught him to listen to his guts, and it saved him multiple times, without looking back he stayed in this dimension until his mortal life perished.

It seemed that he didn’t have to find it for too long as he was approached by none other than Thomas Wayne with the preposition to be Wayne’s butler.

So, when little Bruce Wayne was born he couldn’t help but feel a little fond of the tyke. He reminded Bruce of himself when he was just a simple young boy before everything. When the fated, night came he tried to shield Bruce from everything, to have him resemble a somewhat normal life.

That night he tucked in a teary-eyed Bruce into bed who had just witnessed his parent’s murder. He faced the ghosts of both Martha and Thomas who had been with the young master since the incident a few hours ago and tearfully promised the two ghostly couple that he would take care of Bruce. Both couples seemed to be in shock at their butler who had seen them but felt relief that their boy was in safe hands.

…

When his ward Bruce Wayne turned into a crime-fighting vigilante, he can’t help but softly snort at his outfit. Sure, he admits he had a worse outfit when he started as Phantom when he was just a young lad but he is willing to take anything other than a furry suit that fights crime at night. He has no right to criticize either since his alter ego is just him with an inverted color without a mask yet people seem to make no connection between him and Phantom, in his defense he is a young teen whereas Bruce is in his 20s. He just raised an eyebrow at his outfit and Bruce immediately changed the design to be a bit more sophisticated than just a Halloween costume of a bat.

…

So when Bruce starts to bring in orphans he can’t help but smile fondly as the manor is slowly filled with such joy from each child that seems to find a home in the large manor. He can't help but reminisce if this could have been his life if Vlad had learned to forgive Jack or if his parents and Amity Park just accepted him if the GIW didn’t exist. He thought one day when he was drinking tea with Jason, Jason who died and came back different, never broken. His grandchild who experienced his death in a slow yet painful way died and came back later. He knew there was something different with his grave but he chalked it up in being his ghostly sense sensing the ectoplasm around Gotham. He just wished he checked the grave even though it holds so much sentimental value to the dead.

Don’t get him wrong the moment Jason came back to enact his revenge on B he was already aware something was in Gotham he just didn’t know at the time that it was Jason. He is more than happy to kill the Joker as he had taken mortal lives when he was serving the army but Bruce might notice and he still held fear at the idea of Dan.

After the entire revelation between his son and grandchild, he just welcomed back Jason into the manor as if nothing was wrong with the boy and prepared his favorite dish and snacks in the library whenever he visited.

…

Now it had been a long way since he entered this dimension, now the long table at the manor is filled with guests and children alike. His grandchildren are full of life despite what had life thrown at them. Dick was the first one to arrive and started, Barbara followed, Jason who took off the wheel, Tim with his brilliant mind with his worrying caffeine intake, Stephanie who fought with his father, Cassandra who started just to atone for the sin of killing her father yet became loyal and caring young lady and Damian who started to learn what humanity is like. Sure others had been emotionally adopted but all of them all have places in the manor.

…

His grandchildren as well as his pseudo son kept throwing him curious glances every time, He managed to seemingly appear behind them to notify them of dinner. He can also feel the envy of walking silently from the assassin-trained children. He can feel Bruce’s stare whenever he raises an eyebrow at some classified cases that are supposedly secured. He can hear their whispers as they exclaim to one another that he supposedly knew everything, of course, he knew everything the manor became his new haunt after a few years.

…

He already raised an eyebrow at the simultaneous alarm from every vigilante at the dinner table but imagine his surprise when he joined in looking over the Bat computer as Oracle barked out orders and instructions, as a familiar opponent showed itself.

A green glowing monster is wreaking havoc throughout Gotham it came from Central City and marched its way here to Gotham which became even more powerful due to the ectoplasm in the air. There is already notable damage from both cities as the rest of the heroes seem to work together to evacuate and stop the creature. The JLD attacks seem to have some effect but it was useless due to its minions that kept them occupied. Oracle is so focused on the situation and doesn’t notify their pseudo grandfather to disappear from behind her.

…

The entire JL is starting to feel hopeless as the green creature seems to raze Gotham as if the stone road is made out of water. Every magician and heavy hitter have been called but no one was able to put damage to the creature.

When all hopes seemed lost, they all heard a loud bang from a shotgun.

Alfred Pennyworth is standing on top of a rubble of concrete and metal, the butler of Batman, the pseudo father, and grandfather of the entire bat clan, also known as Agent A. Carrying his signature shotgun and a thermos that seems to strap to his hip like a belt.

He kept firing round after round from his trusty old shotgun and pausing for a second to reload. He glanced at the heroes around and seemed to raise an eyebrow at the absolute massacre that he had just done to the creature’s minions.

As he paused to take another reload, he paused at movement and looked at the space in front of him and waited. The creature appeared roaring out in fury but seemed to pause the moment it laid eyes on Alfred. The creature seems to shake with uncertainty and fear. Every vigilante and hero present could see its eyes growing wide from shock and fear as well the cold sweat as Alfred raised an eyebrow at the creature as he slowly walked towards the creature with annoyance with every step.

Some heroes who had enhanced hearing could hear Alfred muttering about, back in his day blob ghosts were these cute and harmless things but now some up-start wannabe newly formed one seems to think he is all hot shot.

He proceeds to scold the creature as if he had just caught one of his grandchildren sneaking their hands on the cookie jar and proceeds to take out the thermos and effectively catch the creature. As if the one responsible for the mess never existed in the first place.

Now the bat clan has rules when they are in the manor or the presence of Alfred and one of those rules is that there will be no swearing when he is around, but there is one word that seems to resound from each hero's mind.

What the fuck just happened?!?!

…

Now as you know I started to post less, now it is both from writer’s block and class being in the way.

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #batman #ghost king danny #dp #batfam

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written-in-flowers · 6 months

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Be the Light: Pt. 4 (SeongjoongxFem!reader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!reader.

Word Count: 8k

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

AU: historical!au, arranged marriage!au, royalty!au

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed.

Taglist: @scarfac3 @tunaasan @lelaleleb @sevngmin148 @meljoongiee @puppyminnnie @sunasmoke22 @kyourixr @yoongiigolden @lynnsqueendom @atinycafe @soocore @ethereally-lyann @blackbutterfly133 @ddaeing @pearltinyy @iweirdthingsblog @huachengsbestie01 @glintneon123

And a huge, huge thanks to my beta @daesukiii !!! Without them, this wouldn't be as good lol

Part 3 <; | > Part 5

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A large crowd gathered at the pavilion in the middle of the lake. A man-made island, the tall white and red structure was usually the site for banquets, where the ruling monarch entertained guests. The only way on or off was the bridge crossing over the lake around the island, which fit three to four people abreast. Sookmyung’s palanquin barely fit through it, which meant you trailed behind the footmen carrying her across. Several nobles dressed in their finery turned their heads as their queen approached. Nobody cared about the handmaiden coming up behind her.

"Announcing," the herald cried as his men drummed and blew their horns, "Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong, Duchess of Gyeonggi-do, and Protector of Korea."

The people bowed to her as she reached the pavilion steps, smiling proudly at them. You hurried to fix her long red and gold train before she noticed the wrinkles, and then followed a few feet away. All eyes remained on her until she reached the place of honor at a long table. Usually the royal advisors would be attending a function like this, hoping to put forward their own sons as suitors for the young queen. Yet, when you looked around, you saw not a single one in attendance. You supposed they may come later in the evening; they had important work to do. You did not see Queen Jisoo either, which you found odd considering she arranged this gathering. Sookmyung took her place amongst fellow ladies of the court, and you began serving her a small plate of food.

"I'm not hungry," she told you right when you set it in front of her. "Bring me wine. I'm parched."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

It was the sort of royal gathering you expected: lords and ladies enjoying a rich spread of food and drinks, listening to musicians play and catching glances of the fish and birds around the scenic lake. You stood in the shadows behind Sookmyung most of the time, only approaching when she called for you. Seeing the other ladies in their silk and satin hanboks, their hair done up in expensive adornments and wearing fine jewelry on their wrists and fingers, you imagined yourself amongst them. You could sip fine wine while talking to other court ladies about who is courting who. You can flirt and dance with handsome lords all vying for your attention. But, that can only be a dream.

You're nobody. You're a servant, a slave. You are not meant to have dreams at all.

"It seems the old woman was right after all."

You felt a presence shift on your left and you turned to see a man dressed in black and gold standing nearby. You knew by his high voice and long hair that it was Hongjoong. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach at the sight of him so close to you. Out of all her flowers, Hongjoong is the one you’re forbidden to speak with. Immediately, you turned away from him. You knew better than to talk to her flowers. If she caught you, she'd lock you in her dungeon for sure. You remembered Lady Seulgi, and shuddered. Yet, Hongjoong did not leave your side.

"Don't worry, I convinced one of the ladies to keep her occupied," he told you. You did not respond to him, too afraid your voice may carry to Sookmyung a few feet away. "You truly are frightened of her, aren't you?"

You still did not speak, despite the urge to engage in the conversation. Hongjoong radiated a security and comfort not very common in people. Yet, Sookmyung’s presence kept your lips sealed together. What if there's a change in songs and she hears a whisper of conversation? What if she happens to turn around to see you? You tried thinking of a way to leave, but nothing came to mind.

"You shouldn't be here," you muttered to him under the wave of music and chatter. "She is meant to be searching for a husband. If you’re here, she will be too distracted." And if she does not choose a husband by the end, Jisoo shall choose for her and that can only end badly. "I suggest you scurry off before she sees you."

"But why would I leave a party I was invited to?" He asked amusedly.

"You were invited?"

"Yes, by Jisoo."

"Why would she invite you? That defeats the purpose of this entire thing then," you thought out loud.

"Perhaps The Queen Mother wanted us to entertain someone else," he grinned playfully.

The tips of your ears burned at the grin. "Us?"

"The others came too."

"They didn't announce your arrival. You're supposed to arrive after her."

"I doubt she will complain about it," he said. "She hasn't even noticed we're here yet."

"She will if you keep standing there," you imagined what awful thing she'd do if she caught them here, "You all should leave before she sees you. It'll end badly for you if she does."

"YN," he said fondly, "Always thinking of others and never about yourself."

You turned to look at him, "Your meaning?"

"That you should worry about yourself a bit more," he explained simply. "She might favor you above most at court, or anywhere as a matter of fact, but you're not exempt from the dungeons."

"That's partly the reason I'm telling you to leave," you hissed. "If she sees us speaking, she'll assume the worst and throw us both in there."

"'Partly'," he repeated. "Well, I have no intention of leaving, and neither do the others. We've been promised an exciting night."

Another cryptic response. "Do not say you weren't warned. Enjoy the party."

You left his side to refill Sookmyung’s plate. You hoped distracting her with food gave him time to leave, and when you turned to check, he'd gone.

"YN, tell the singers I hate this song," she told you over her shoulder. "Tell them I want them to play something more jovial, upbeat."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

You moved deftly through the crowd towards the musicians in the corner of the pavilion. That was when you noticed the guards. At most functions, you saw at least three or four, especially at an intimate gathering. Yet, as you walked, you spotted more than four. You saw several: two by the entrance, a man at each corner of the pavilion, three more patrolling the island area and four patrolling the outer banks. They stalked the grounds with swords sheathed on their belts. It unsettled you. Everything about the queen’s banquet seemed off. First, no advisors. Secondly, no Jisoo. Thirdly, concubines and lastly, a strong guard presence. You sensed a disturbance underneath the surface, watching and waiting to strike, and you didn’t know where it’d come from first.

You reached the band of musicians, and told them Sookmyung’s request, which they obeyed immediately. When you turned around, you saw Wooyoung, San and Yeosang crowded together. Since anyone who values their life won’t speak to them, the three concubines talked to one another instead with drink cups in their hands. Hongjoong mentioned them being promised an exciting night. You wondered what it might be as you made your way back over to Sookmyung. Pleased at the change in song, she continued enjoying the company of the other ladies while you stood behind her. You stood by one of the pillars, your stomach growling from hunger and wishing Sookmyung let you leave. Then the herald called out in a booming voice, more drums and horns drowning out the musicians.

"Announcing, Han Jisoo, Queen Mother of Hanseong."

People stepped aside and bowed as the queen moved through the crowd. You saw your mother pushing her from behind, neither speaking or smiling. However, Jisoo beamed and nodded at people she made eye contact with. Jisoo glowed with a kindness her daughter never inherited. You saw her in her olive green and white hanbok, her hair in a bun with a floral hairpin. She looked like a true queen, particularly when she was in front of Sookmyung, who tried hiding her hateful scowl.

"Mother," Sookmyung stood, but did not bow, "I am so glad you managed to make it this evening. I thought your health might keep you."

"I wanted to be here to support my lovely daughter,” she said, being wheeled around to a place beside Sookmyung. “This is a very important night for her.”

“If it’s so important,” Sookmyung began when they both sat down, “Then why aren’t the old men here? I thought they’d want to see all their sons and nephews put themselves forward.”

“Don’t fret over them, love,” her mother replied, being served food by Chaewon. “They will be here soon.” She turned her head to see you nearby, and you bowed your head to her. Jisoo gave a look of concern, “YN, you look peckish. When was the last time you ate?”

“This morning, Your Majesty.”

“But it’s been hours since then,” she said. “Come and eat, child. You’ll pass out if you don’t.”

Sookmyung snorted, “I remember the harvest festival when we were little. YN fainted in front of everybody and fell into a puddle of mud.”

“A queen doesn’t laugh at the misfortune of others,” Jisoo scolded. “YN, come sit by me and eat.”

“She’s a servant,” Sookmyung argued, “She isn’t supposed to sit here with us.”

“She can because I said so.”

“I am the queen,” she retorted, “And YN listens to only me. YN, you stay where you are. I might have need of you.”

“And I am the Queen Mother,” Jisoo told you, “Come now.”

You looked between the two queens, and then to your mother worriedly. If you disobeyed Sookmyung, you’d receive a harsh scolding later. If you disobeyed Jisoo, you’d be hurting her feelings. Jisoo always seemed to favor you over the other palace servants. She went out of her way to make sure you’re properly cared for; she always offered you space in her home. You stepped forward carefully, and stood at the chair beside Jisoo. Your eyes flitted up to Sookmyung, who stared daggers into your face. By the amount of wine she’ll be having, perhaps she’ll be too drunk to properly punish you. She may even forget this moment if she finds a man she truly likes. Taking the seat, your mother serving you a hefty plate, you knew your hopes were too high.

"I am sorry you had to witness that argument," Jisoo told you. "It will be the last time you do, I promise."

"It is nothing I am not accustomed to," you told her. You ate a bit of rice with savory meat and chewed quietly. "Sookmyung is very against the idea of marriage. She will not make it easy for you."

"And what about you, YN?"

"Your Majesty?"

"Sookmyung made a fair point, in her own twisted way," she began. "You are a beautiful young woman. You would have your pick of any man you wanted, yet you show no interest in it."

"I am far too busy to think about such things," you said. "The Queen takes up a good amount of my time."

'Sookmyung will never let me marry unless she chose them herself.'

"That's preposterous," she scoffed. She took a sip of tea your mother poured for her, and said, “Sookmyung has plenty of other handmaidens. Surely, she can tolerate them long enough for you to pursue any interests you may have.” She then gave a sly smirk, “You might even find someone favorable tonight.”

“Your Majesty, please,” you giggled with hot cheeks, “These are all men of nobility. Their families would never accept it even if a man did want me.”

You didn’t dare mention they’ll likely take you as a concubine rather than a wife.

“That may change after tonight.” Her eyes lit up when she spotted someone in the crowd, “Hongjoong looks particularly handsome tonight, don’t you think?”

“What?” You searched the crowd around to find him standing with Seonghwa and Yunho, the three men in deep discussion together. “Um, well, I suppose he does.”

“You suppose?” she furrowed her brow. “Put aside your fears for a moment, YN, and tell me what you truly think of him.”

Your eyes finally met hers, seeing the sincerity in them, and you looked back at Hongjoong. While you both rarely spoke directly, he still showed care for you. Yesterday, he’d occupied Sookmyung for the day so you may spend time with your mother. He’d taken your place in the torture chambers, so you can sleep free of nightmares. Hongjoong might fear Sookmyung’s wrath like anyone else, but that seemed to fade in your presence. You knew the face underneath that veil: the short narrow nose, the prominence of his cheeks and soft lips. He’d been a prince once, and he still looked the part even now. He must’ve felt your stare, because his eyes glanced over to you and the room suddenly became warm. Seeing him there, you wished you could speak to him again.

“He is everything a prince should be,” you whispered, not concerned if she heard you or not. “He is the sort of man you hear about in stories and songs: a chivalrous, courageous prince who comes to save the day. Even if we don’t speak, he shows his concern and care in different ways.”

“If we speak technically, he is a king,” she noted. “His father is dead. His family is dead. Anyone with a claim to Wonju’s throne is deceased apart from himself.”

“Which is the precise reason Sookmyung covets him so much. She will never release him.”

“Let us not speak of the future as a fact,” she ate a few vegetables from her stew, and said. “The future can change in a single minute.”

“You speak as if you know something I do not,” you didn’t realize how accusatory that sounded until you’d said it. “Forgive me-”

“-Perhaps I do, little YN,” she smiled serenely, “Perhaps I do.”

Drums sounded from the pavilion entrance, and the herald called out, “Chief Senior Advisor Choi Wonshik, with Advisors Kim Heechul, Park Taeyong, Do Daewook, and Jung Junhan.”

All five of Sookmyung’s advisors walked into the pavilion to more head bowing. Wonshik walked ahead of them to Sookmyung’s table, and gave her a bow.

“Senior Advisor,” Sookmyung said, “I am glad to see you.”

“I wish I could say the same, Your Majesty.”

The people sitting at Sookmyung’s table fell silent at once, even with the music continuing to play onwards. She kept her eyes directly on the elder, that familiar dislike showing on her face. You feared what might happen next.

“What did you say?” she drawled, hands slowly curling into fists.

“The council and I have been in discussion for some time,” he informed her. You saw the other advisors' stiff lips and stern faces. “We have argued back and forth and back and forth on this issue for several days, and finally we have all come to an agreement.”

“This is not the place to discuss politics, Advisor,” she said. “I am in the middle of a banquet, if you have not noticed.”

“I’m afraid this news cannot wait any longer. Han Sookmyung, by power invested in us by the people of Korea and The Crown, the Royal Council and I have declared you unfit to rule and have decided to strip you of your titles and crown.”

Sookmyung immediately shot up from her seat. Now, they had the full attention of everyone in the room. Every nerve in your body froze, and you braced yourself for what would happen next.

“You cannot do that!” she howled. “I am the queen-”

“-Any fool who has to keep saying she is the queen is not a true queen,” Wonshik continued, unbothered by her temper. “As Master of Law, I will give Advisor Do the floor-”

“-You old bastards! I am part of the monarchy. I am a queen. You cannot arrest or depose me without just cause-”

“-According to paragraph three in section C3 of the Bill of Laws,” Advisor Do spoke, fixing the spectacles on his nose, “A monarch may be incarcerated if there is sufficient evidence that said monarch has committed crimes against the people. During your conquest across Korea, there are witness testimonies and hard evidence to prove Your Majesty committed several war crimes-”

“-You have no proof-”

“-These war crimes include,” he withdrew a scroll and he read out loud, “Intentional destruction and appropriation of property not justified by military necessity and carried out unlawfully. Intentional attacks against civilian populations. The torture and subsequent murder of prisoners of war; the taking of and enslavement of hostages. The murder of combatants who’d laid down their arms or have no means of further defense-”

“-These don’t apply to me! I am the ruler! I decide-”

“-The penalty for these crimes is the immediate removal from office, as well as stripped of all lands and titles-”

“-I decide what laws go into place! I decided who is charged and who isn’t-”

“-The Royal Council decides which laws are passed,” Wonshik intervened. “Your grandfather put this into practice before you were born, and it still stands today. Your Majesty was always welcome to take her place on the council and come to terms with us, but you felt that beneath you. Due to the crimes Advisor Do has just read, Her Majesty, Queen Sookmyung, shall be placed under arrest-”

“-What?!-”

“-Until such time as she is tried in a court of law and properly sentenced-”

The guards you’d seen before came forward to Sookmyung’s seat. She looked at Wonshik, unafraid of the men coming her way, “I am the queen. I am King Siwon’s only heir. Who could you possibly replace me with?”

“That is easily resolved.” It was Jisoo who spoke, and Sookmyung rounded on her.

“How? What, you will sit on my throne? You are the King’s widow. You have no right or claim to my throne.”

“I might not, but your sister does.”

“My sister?” she asked in disbelief, “What sister? I have no sister!”

Chaewon turned Jisoo to face her daughter, “Yes, you do. Your father and I kept this information from court to avoid a succession crisis upon his death. But, seeing what you’ve become and the violence and destruction you’ve dealt out, I think it was a mistake to keep her hidden this entire time.”

“Who is she?” she glared at Jisoo, and you worried she might hit her. “Where is she? I’ll run her through!” She grabbed a knife from the table, and held it out at Jisoo. Sookmyung began looking about the room as if she expected this secret heir to appear from the shadows. “Who is she? Who?!” The guards drew out their own swords, ready to fight if she resisted. You remembered all those years in the training yard. Sookmyung is far too good with weapons for one’s liking. Jisoo, however, was not afraid of the blade in front of her. “Where is she, you snake?!”

“She’s right behind me,” Jisoo shrugged.

A gasp escaped your throat, and Sookmyung turned to you. Nervously, you searched for anyone behind you but you quickly realized she meant you. You looked over to your mother.

“Mother?”

“YN?” Sookmyung spoke before your mother, and said, “That’s ridiculous! YN is a lowly servant’s daughter. She’s not a princess, let alone a queen. If she was my twin sister, she’d look like me.”

“You’re fraternal twins,” Jisoo explained.

“Fraternal…” she breathed out the word, her eyes landing on you. “Why…Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know!” you squeaked. “I swear, Your Majesty, I didn’t know! I am as surprised as you!”

And equally embarrassed. All eyes landed on you once the words were spoken, and you wanted to run and hide. Everyone stood in complete shock and awe. You saw some people whispering behind their hands, and others awkwardly looking away from you.

“Liar!”

“Guards!”

Sookmyung lunged for you, knife raised in the air, before a guard stood in her way. Her eyes never left yours. Nothing but scorching hate burned within her brown eyes, that primal need to unleash her fury making her more and more desperate to reach you. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears, and you couldn’t stop your feet from taking you backwards. You’d walk all the way to the city and beyond if nobody stopped you.

“YN…”

His voice, low and deep, reached you right as your back bumped into his front. Seonghwa. You knew from the voice alone. Warm hands squeeze your biceps tenderly to keep you in place.

“You little bitch!” Sookmyung screeched, “I will get you! I will get all of you! You will rue the day you tried taking my crown from me!”

Two guards took her by the arms, but they did not act quickly enough. Sookmyung pushed one of them away, and unsheathed the dagger from his belt. Stabbing it into his chest, panic went throughout the room as Sookmyung shoved him to the floor and turned on his comrade. Seonghwa stood in front of you, so you only heard the commotion going on several feet away from you.

“Seonghwa, get YN out of here,” Jisoo ordered.

“Come, YN.”

He took your arm and started leading you away. You looked over your shoulder to see Sookmyung’s wig casted onto the floor and the overcoat of her hanbok discarded onto the ground. In the distance, you saw Sookmyung fighting off guards with a stolen sword. You’d never seen her in battle, but you’d seen her in the training yard in her youth. Sookmyung cut through men easily, using her hands and feet to keep them back. Then, you realized some of the guards did not fight her, but rather aided her. Soldiers fought as Sookmyung made her way out of the pavilion. When a lord tried stopping her, one of the guards cut him down to give her a clear path. As you ran across the bridge leading to the south, Sookmyung ran to the one leading towards the north where she fought men guarding the lake side. Seonghwa lifted you up onto a horse awaiting you by the bridge, and Sookmyung had the same idea on the opposite side. You gasped audibly when she stabbed the rider and took his steade.

As you began riding with Seonghwa, you worried Sookmyung might chase after you. Everything in your body turned numb, and the only thing you felt was fear. You listened for more clopping hooves, and faint threats carrying through the air. You expected her to pull up beside you, sword in her hand, and the blade swishing at you and Seonghwa. Yet, as you crossed over another bridge to the southern part of the palace grounds, you realized she must’ve retreated.

“We’ve been betrayed,” you heard Seonghwa curse to himself. “They said they’d be on our side.”

“Seonghwa, what’s going on?” you asked him.

He didn’t answer you, but instead rode towards the concubine residency. No guards stood at their posts nor any servants lingering nearby. Seonghwa dismounted first, then helped you off the horse before leading you into the house. Once you both entered the main room of the house, it felt as if the world was shut out. You walked into the middle of the room, replaying the events in your head.

You’re a princess? Impossible. King Siwon could not be your father. Park Hyungshik had been your father. He’d been a stablemaster, handling the King’s horses for him. He’d died from pestilence when you were twelve, the sickness nearly taking your life as well before you recovered. Queen Jisoo could not be your real mother. Park Chaewon was. She’d nursed you in infancy, cared for you and loved you unconditionally. It sounded insane. If you were a princess, then you would’ve worn crowns and worn pretty dresses and danced with handsome lords. Not standing by Sookmyung’s side as she tortured and murdered people.

“YN?” Seonghwa’s voice couldn’t pull you from your thoughts.

King Siwon separated you to avoid a succession dispute? Why would there be one? If you and Sookmyung were twins, surely the council would have chosen the elder over the younger. Then, you remembered the crimes the council charged Sookmyung with and understood.

You studied the law and judicial system more than Sookmyung did. Everything Advisor Choi and Advisor Do said was true. The council had the power to remove the current monarch if they had just cause, and in Sookmyung’s case, they certainly had one. Hearing her crimes be listed out loud brought them into perspective for you. She’d raped, tortured, and killed so many people. She’d put entire villages to the torch, spreading fear and oppression throughout the kingdom. She continued to harm her subjects through her high taxation on the poor, causing many of them to go hungry or turn to unsavory means to avoid it. You’d hoped one day she may be stopped, but you never imagined yourself taking her place.

“YN,” Seonghwa called to you again, coming up behind you, “Are you alright?”

“No,” you answered. Sookmyung will not let this ‘betrayal’ stand. She will come for you and anyone else involved in this coupe. “Where did she go? Did you see where she went?”

“She was running towards the northern gates,” he said. “I imagine she plans to escape that way, and if what I suspect is true, she’ll manage to get out of the city by the morning.”

You looked out a nearby window to see the sun already setting. Footmen already lit the braziers around the grounds, and you saw lights inside the various buildings being lit. You did not have a view of the pavilion from the garden house, but you saw floods of lords and ladies being escorted by their retainers off the premises. Several palace guards moved quickly throughout the grounds, hands on their swords as they searched for the runaway queen. No doubt they’ll set up groups of men to go into the city soon. That won’t stop Sookmyung. She’ll find her way back into the palace, and if she had help, she’d find you for sure.

“She’ll find me,” you said, keeping the trembling out of your voice. “She’ll find me, torture me and then kill me.”

“No, she won’t,” he assured you, putting his hands on your shoulders. “I wouldn’t let her.”

“As if that would stop her,” you rolled your eyes. Watching men moving past the house, you pictured her lying in wait in the bushes. You saw her waiting until dark to sneak into your bedroom, and plunge a knife in your throat. “She’ll never give up. Never. When she manages to get her throne back, she’ll punish every single person she deems responsible for this. It is stupid. It is foolish and in vain.”

“I won’t let that happen,” he said. Gingerly, he turned you to face him and you tensed in his embrace. Thoughts of Sookmyung’s fury made you step away from his touch. “She is not the queen anymore,” he told you, sensing your hesitancy, “She holds no power.”

“Yes, she does,” you told him. “Just because the council has dethroned her does not mean the people outside these walls know of this. It will take days to inform the dukes of the other cities, and by then, Sookmyung will have likely sought refuge with one of them. There may even be a simple farming family who shelters her because they’re under the impression she is queen.” You envisioned the very scenario, and it only ended with blood and tears. “Nobody is going to accept a new queen, especially one who was the former queen’s handmaiden. I mean..” you took a deep breath, “I am no queen. I am not royalty. I am a small, simple woman who walks next to palanquins and serves other people and takes care of everyone and everything and-”

“-You may not have been raised as a royal, but you are one,” Seonghwa interrupted you. “Word will spread after tonight. It is why the council confronted her in front of the entire court instead of somewhere private. People like to talk, and they’ll talk about how Sookmyung was deposed and her handmaiden is actually her secret sister.”

“And they will say that I am not a queen and will likely try to put someone else in my place.”

“The only people who can truly make that decision are the advisors,” he said, “Nobody else.”

He stepped forward again, his hand sliding across your jaw and cupping it. Sookmyung would’ve flogged you both for such a gesture. When you tried moving away, he kept you still.

“The people may not know you, but I do,” he began. “You are a kind, generous, compassionate person. You sympathize and empathize with others. You always try to do what is right and protect as many people as you can.”

“I cannot protect anyone.”

“You’ve tried, and that counts. The other servants used to talk about how you maneuvered Sookmyung’s anger to keep her from harming others-”

“-I wasn’t always successful,” you admitted sheepishly. “She could be hard to handle when she is seriously upset.”

“But you managed. Also, it isn’t as if you’re a complete fool. You can read, write and do arithmetic. You know the politics, the law, and culture.” He gave a soft smile, “You should not doubt yourself so much. You are capable of great things, YN, and you’ll have people there to guide you along the way.”

You shook your head and moved away from him and the window. “No, no, this is insane,” you kept shaking your head, “There’s no way. This must be a trick or a joke.”

“Why would it be a trick?”

“Sookmyung likes to play games. This would just be another elaborate game for her to play on me,” you nervously wiped your palms on your skirt, “She’ll come back, laugh at me for reacting this way, and then tell me that ever dreaming of being more than what I am is pointless. It is the sort of thing she’d do. Yes, and being one of her ‘flowers’, you’d be forced to be in on the game.”

“YN, this is not a trick or a game. You truly are Jisoo and Siwon’s child; you are an heir to the Han dynasty-”

“-No, I’m not. No. I’m not falling for it,” you crossed your arms and plopped down onto a sofa. “I’ll sit here and wait for her to come and laugh at me like she always does.”

“YN-”

“-YN!”

Your mother came rushing into the house, her footsteps thumping lightly until she reached the beaded curtain. She saw you sitting on the sofa and gave a sigh of relief.

“YN, there you are!”

She knelt in front of you, cradling your face and checking for any injuries. You looked at her. You truly looked at her now. You tried finding a scrap of yourself in her face; you thought about your father’s face and did not find resemblance there either. Not in the nose, eyes, lips, ears, cheeks, neck, or body. Nothing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked her softly. “Why didn’t you tell me that Queen Jisoo was my real mother and not you?”

Chaewon’s eyes filled with guilt. Her shoulders sagged and she stopped touching you. You saw the conflict going on in her mind, a struggle between honesty and lies. She sat beside you on the sofa, and held your hand gently.

“I think that is a conversation for later,” she told you. “A lot of things have happened very quickly, and you must be very confused right now.”

“Exactly, so please explain the first part to me: how can I be a daughter of King Siwon, and not know it until this very day?” you demanded.

Chaewon looked over at Seonghwa, the discomfort clear on her face. She stayed silent for a moment before she said, “Because we didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“The Queen and I,” she answered. “Well, us two, Siwon, and Wonshik. Like what Jisoo said, Siwon had seen kingdoms be torn apart by a dispute over succession and he knew having two twin daughters may cause that. He’d planned to send you far away into the countryside where nobody would see you, but Jisoo pleaded for you to stay in the palace.”

“Why?”

“She didn’t want to be away from you. She wanted to see her daughters grow up together.”

“Why did she pick you?”

“Because she and I have been together since our girlhood in Daegu,” she explained. “We both suffered from similar fertility issues after our marriages: she had a delicate womb; Hyungshik did not produce enough sperm for a pregnancy. When you and Sookmyung were born, and Siwon declared there can only be one, she offered you to me.” Your mother smiled warmly, taking both your hands in hers, “And Hyungshik and I loved you as if you were ours all along. The moment I held you in my arms, YN, I felt as if you were meant to be mine. It was as if the gods intended on giving you to me."

"You could have told me at any time."

"And what good would it have done then?"

"That perhaps we might not be in this situation at all," you reasoned. "The king and queen both saw what kind of person Sookmyung was; they saw her viciousness and callousness and still allowed her to be queen.”

“They believed she may grow out of it-”

“-Grow out of it?” you huffed. “What could possibly make them think that? Sookmyung used to chase around the palace cats and hang them from trees. She used to start fires in the stables and tormented her nurse. She only started paying attention in studies when she was told she’d be the queen one day. Do you know why she wanted to train in the yard with the men? Hm, do you?” you couldn’t keep the anger from rising in your voice. “Because then she’d learn how to kill people. She’d learn how to hurt people in the most efficient way. It did not occur to them then that perhaps their eldest child is not fit for rule? All this pain and torture and murder could have been prevented if her parents stepped out of their delusion and saw her as she truly was.”

You pictured every person Sookmyung ever tortured. Their faces haunted your dreams and kept you awake some nights. The stench of blood, bile, and other fluids clung to your nose even when outside the dungeons. They did not know. Her family never knew her true nature. Queen Jisoo might’ve suspected or been told by others, but she’d never seen it. You’d seen everything. You shut your eyes as visions of men being impaled on pikes across a battlefield came to you.

“No parent ever wants to admit their child’s faults,” your mother told you gently. “It was not until she came into rule that Queen Jisoo saw her daughter for who she is.”

“Someone should have said something,” you said, “Someone should have told me.”

“To tell you would be telling Sookmyung,” she soothed you, running your braid through her hands delicately. “You saw what she did to the other claimants. I never thought…YN, you must believe me, I never thought this day would come.”

“Did you ever plan on telling me? Ever?”

“Your father wanted to tell you,” she admitted, “When he was dying. We both thought you’d join him, so he wanted you to know the truth, but I disagreed. I feared telling you the truth would worsen your condition at the time.”

“I feel it now regardless of my health.”

“I know, and I do not expect you to forgive me right away. I only want you to know that I did this for your safety. Even if they did not want to admit it, I knew Sookmyung as well. If she learned you were her sister, she would’ve tried killing you at some point, and she proved that today.”

Because she believed you’d betrayed her. The room felt hot. You realized then Seonghwa still stood nearby, listening even if he pretended otherwise.

“Please, you must understand,” your mother pleaded. “We did what we thought was best at the time. None of us knew what Sookmyung would turn out to be later on in life, but we knew if Siwon died and had two heirs instead of one, things could be ugly very quickly.”

“Obviously it would have been Sookmyung. She was the elder of the two of us.”

“But anyone who saw her grow up would’ve petitioned to have you take her place,” she said. “Purists would say Sookmyung is the rightful heir, and Realists would say you are the appropriate heir. It would’ve caused chaos and uncertainty. It’d been during a very tremulous time in the kingdom: we’d recently gotten out of a war with a nearby nation, and were recovering from the financial losses. Siwon did not want to see his kingdom plunged into war.”

“And look how that turned out,” you said, playing with the red threaded ornament attached to your hanbok. On the red loop was a golden medallion with a crane etched into it. Sookmyung gifted it to you after her first victory. “It led to Sookmyung creating her own war in an attempt to seize control of the entire country; power and control she already had as the ruling monarch. It left us in a country depleted of hope and peace led by a madwoman who pulled out fingernails for fun.”

“We admit that we made a mistake,” Chaewon answered, “You’re right. We should never have lied to you. It is something we both deeply regret.”

“Yes, particularly in light of recent events.”

Your mother put her hand on yours, grasping the ornament. “We know it will take time for you to fully soak all of this in, so we do not expect immediate forgiveness from you. But, I want you to know that even if I didn’t carry you myself,” her hands went around yours, “I still love you as if I did. The moment you opened your eyes, YN, I knew you were mine.”

“Would you have told me?”

“If circumstances had been different, I would have.”

You had difficulty believing her. If she lied about this, what else is she lying about?

“YN, are you alright?”

It was Jisoo, followed by Wonshik and the other advisors, all of them concerned. You turned from your hiding space to see them all standing by the door, watching you from afar. When you saw Jisoo, you couldn’t see her being your mother either. The only traces captured in her features was Sookmyung, her trueborn daughter. Then, you thought back to King Siwon. He’d stood lean and broad even in his old age. Thinking back to the warm, wrinkled face that always smiled at you, you saw yourself. You saw bits and pieces of yourself in that face.

“I look more like him,” you said without thinking.

She nodded, “Yes, you do. I used to tell him that whenever I saw you both together.” She wheeled herself closer to you, “Forgive me, YN. I did not want to keep this from you, but my husband forbade it. You must understand we did this to prevent war and-”

“-Sookmyung brought war and devastation on us,” you argued with her. “I don’t see how keeping my birth a secret prevented anything. If anything, it has made things worse.”

“Yes, we see our mistakes now,” she faltered. “I’d seen it for a long time, but not Siwon. He had trouble admitting that he’d made a mistake in separating you both. I wanted to tell you, YN. We should have told you, and dealt with the consequences afterwards. This is the time to correct those mistakes.”

“You told Hongjoong and I that the other dukes would be on our side,” Seonghwa stepped in, looking at Wonshik. “I am not sure if you noticed, a few of them took up arms against us instead of with us.”

“Yes, it appears we’d been betrayed,” Wonshik nodded. “Sookmyung might’ve already known a coupe would be staged, but the shock of YN being her sister distracted her long enough for us to act.”

“Do we know who went over?”

“The Dukes of Daegu, Gongju, and Ulleungdo, as well as their bannermen,” Advisor Jung, a stern looking man with a balding head and long mustache and beard, spoke up. “I told Wonshik that trusting Daegu and Gongju would be a mistake. They benefited the most when Sookmyung took power, and know their continued wealth counts on her being on the throne. Ulleungdo was a surprise, though. They typically stay out of wars.”

“The son of Ulleungdo recently married the duchess of Daegu,” Jisoo told him. “They will need a proper fleet, and Ulleungdo has dozens of longships.”

“How did they find out?” exclaimed Advisor Heechul, a rotund man with salt-and-pepper hair.

“Why don’t we discuss this tomorrow, gentlemen?” Jisoo intervened. “Her Majesty has learned far too much too quickly. She needs time to process these new changes.”

“It is important to act now, Your Majesty…”

‘Her Majesty’. They meant you when they said this. Not Sookmyung. Despite all the little fantasies you had, you never believed it would happen. You couldn’t possibly be a real princess, but the longer you sat there amongst these people, it sounded more plausible. It explained why the king and queen treated you so well. You saw the other servant girls learning practical skills such as cooking, sewing, cleaning and washing. You sat beside Sookmyung learning languages, geography, arithmetic, philosophy, and culture. You’d never cooked anything before or needed to sew. It was the other household servants who did that; you merely managed them. King Siwon showed particular interest in you. He even called you affectionate pet names.

‘How is our little blossom today?’

‘Don’t wander too deep into the forest, okay sunshine? We don’t want you and Sookmyung getting lost.’

Queen Jisoo showed you nothing but kindness and concern. She appeared happier when she saw you in comparison to when she saw Sookmyung. You must be special to them, and what other reason do they have outside of being their child? You felt yourself stand up from the sofa, and begin walking away. They want to make you a queen. Your feet carried you throughout the harem, bypassing bedrooms and sitting rooms until you reached the outdoor veranda over the garden pond. Night time came over the garden fully, with the lit lanterns resembling stars amongst the dark trees and bushes.

You spent your whole life believing Chaewon and Hyungshik were your parents. If you’d learned you’d been adopted from an orphanage or given to them by relatives, you might understand it better. You may not feel so bad. But learning your birth parents are a king and queen, and you are a princess worsened the shock. You gripped the wooden railing tightly, your fingers pressing into the painted wood as you imagined Sookmyung learning of this. It stunned her, and angered her like most surprises had done. You knew Jisoo and your mother were right: if you’d grown up as sisters, you wouldn’t be standing here. But, then you’d have grown up prepared to ascend the throne.

“YN?” you recognized Seonghwa’s voice again, but felt nothing for it.

You did not know the first thing about being a monarch. Yes, you might have come up with solutions to problems you heard from citizens, but you had no power to carry them out. You didn’t understand politics or diplomacy or sword fighting like Sookmyung did. You are a servant, a follower of people higher than you; you’re not a queen. You’re not a leader.

“YN,” he took light steps over towards you, “I know this is far too much to take in at the moment. You must be so confused. I’ll admit, I felt the same when the Queen Mother and Advisor Wonshik told me of their plan.”

“Why would they tell you?”

“Well, I suspect they hoped I’d be of some use to them,” he stood beside you and looked out over the water. “My father was Park Jiwoon. He was the Senior Advisor to The Duke of Haeju for years. Before Sookmyung killed the ruling family and installed loyal lackeys to the seat, my father counseled the duke in all manner of politics. My father was brilliant. It’d been him who’d suggested that it be a council that makes the laws alongside the duke, instead of giving the monarch ultimate power."

He saw your worried expression. Your eyes fell closed when he gently touched your cheek, and made you look at him. He's beautiful. Undeniably beautiful. Round eyes gazed into yours lovingly, glancing down to your lips before looking back up. He was Sookmyung's, you thought. He's hers. Not yours. None of them could ever truly be yours. Especially not Seonghwa or Hongjoong. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, and he stood closer to you before the sound of wheels running over wood broke you apart.

Jisoo appeared with your mother. They both stopped when they saw you and Seonghwa alone. Neither woman said anything, and Seonghwa bowed his head.

"I must go speak with the advisors," he said. He gave you one more fleeting look, "Goodnight, Your Majesty."

It was when he'd gone out of earshot that you said, "I've only been a monarch for less than an hour and I already hate that. I'm not a queen."

"This is our chance to make things right," Jisoo said, continuing your conversation from inside. "The people need a leader who is compassionate, generous and caring. They need someone who understands their struggles, and would do their best to relieve them. You are that someone, YN, whether you believe it or not. There is a reason I ordered you to be tutored alongside Sookmyung.”

“I hardly remember any of those lessons now," you scoffed. "They weren’t important to me-”

“-Name the five major clans of Korea.”

“What?” you finally looked over at her.

“Name the five major clans,” she repeated. “There is the royal family, the Han clan. Who are the other four?”

“Kim, Park, Choi and Jung,” you answered.

“Han controls the middle plain region,” she said, coming up beside you, “Who controls the west, east, north, and south?”

“Kim controls the west, Choi controls the east, Park controls the south, and Jung is in the north.”

“What are their principal exports?”

“Clan Kim is famous for their gem and gold mines, as well as their silk and cloth fields,” you said. “Clan Choi are known for their expansive seafood industry, while Clan Park send spices and wines from their vineyards and fields in the south. Jung sends lumber, paper and stone blocks for building.”

“Sookmyung did not know that.”

“Of course she did.”

“She pretended to know,” Jisoo informed you. “I knew that because she never attended council meetings. Sookmyung only went to meetings when it concerned her money or her power. She did not know how to bring peace to people, or how to maintain it. I think you can do it.”

“I know you can do it,” your mother said, coming up beside you at the railing. When you did not reply, she continued, “You do not need to make a decision tonight-”

“-Chaewon-” Jisoo said incredulously, but your mother ignored her.

“-Take your time with this. It is a big decision and there are more to come.” She put her arm around your shoulders and hugged you, “Let us take this one day at a time, hm?”

“I’d like that.”

You allowed her arms to comfort you as they’d done your entire life. Basking in the warmth and scent of her, you could not find it in you to think anymore. Jisoo decided you’d stay in the harem where there’d be plenty of people to watch over you until Sookmyung is apprehended. You couldn’t find it in you to care. Seonghwa offered you his chambers for the night, but you politely declined. You took the spare room, which was oddly untouched by anyone else. You undressed yourself, thinking about what you would be doing now if nothing happened. You’d be undressing Sookmyung instead, and leaving her in a warm bath while you turned down her bed. After applying creams and salves to her body, you’d help her into bed and make sure the room remained warm through the night.

Instead, you stripped to your undergarments and took up the black silk robe left on a chair. Sookmyung’s robe. You recalled every time you slipped it over her shoulders, and tied it because she could not be bothered to dress herself. Tossing it aside, you slid into the bed amongst the soft sheets. Sleep likely will not come, but you’d force it to. If you slept, perhaps when you woke up tomorrow it'd have been a dream.

An awful, confusing dream.

***

A/N: oooh the drama!! Thanks so much for the support and love you're giving this fic <3 it's my baby lol thanks also for being so patient with these chapters. I'm not going through the best time, but I wanted to put out something for you guys <3 hope you like this one

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #seongjoong x reader #matz x reader #pirateeznet

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literallyalbertcamus · 2 months

Text

A relationship with Angus Tully headcanons:

(I have a lot to say about this man, so of you keep liking i will keep writting)

Trying to convince him of letting his hair grow long by showing him photos of the Beatles and telling him how hot they look, and that he would look so much hotter. That was at like the third month of your relationship and by christmass his hair has grown, but if anyone ask his girlfriend has nothing to do with it.

The swimwear that barely covers anything? Yeah he choosed it because when you two where talking about the James Bond movies and you keeped blushing at the mention of “On Her Majesty's Secret Service” and that part of the movie. Probably showed it to you in private.

Almost all the first things he gifted to you at the beginig of the relationship that were not chocolates he stole them. That pretty flowers that he gave you when you two decided to study in the small library in town? Took them from someone’s front garden. That very expensive font pen he got you when you told him yours wasn’t writting right? Probably Kountze drop it in ancient history, he’s not sorry, not at all.

All the letters you writte him go straight under his matress, don’t want none of the boys at his dorm founding them.

Speaking of the boys at the dorm, if they tease him for being in a relation with a girl from town, he will not esitate in just trowing all his best insults. In the case they just ask things about sex or that kind, he will say nothing, more than anything to not expose you or your integrity, he’s rather run around campus in only his swimwear that Barton boys bothering you.

#angus tully x reader #angus tully headcanons #dominic sessa #the holdovers

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bratbby333 · 28 days

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literally just any smutty choso fic pls ☹️☝️

careful what you wish for, my sweet anon...i got a bit carried away

┊˚ ｡*ੈ ☁️‧₊˚ ❝ your majesty ❞ ˚ ｡˚ -choso kamo

⋆˖⁺‧₊♰ nsfw mdni ♰₊‧⁺˖⋆

cw: concubine!choso/dom!reader, infidelity, blasphemy, oral (f!receiving) wc: 2.3k edited by the loveliest: @remlionheart ༉‧₊˚. dumped my religious trauma into this one, i apologize

Upon the sacred grounds of your kingdom, there are only two rules to live by; No sex and no masturbation, for these sins grant you a one-way ticket into the fiery infernos of hell. This rule applies to everyone but you, of course. You are the queen, after all. You run your domain with unyielding power. You are a hard and fast ruler, feared by all who inhabit your realm.

You are serviced by your concubine, Choso, his timid, submissive disposition suiting you perfectly. You allow Choso to indulge in sexual pleasure that other inhabitants of your land are denied, while also relieving your own frustrations. You are his only exception.

You attend many assemblies throughout the day, some boring and some enthralling. A few banishments here, a couple executions there. You walk the grounds of your domain, taking in the fresh air, reveling in the way the setting sun kisses your skin. Your back is tense, and the expectations that the throne places upon you rest heavily on your shoulders. You need release. You need Choso. You send a nearby servant to fetch him, requesting he be bathed and brought to your room. He’s most likely doing his evening chores; he’s a diligent worker. Driven. Strong. Attractive. There’s no question as to why you chose him to pleasure you.

Strolling the marble walls of your castle, pondering the pros and cons of trade with a neighboring stronghold, your focus is interrupted by the lewd sounds of low grunts and wet flesh. You pause in front of the servant quarters, noticing the door is closed as you press your ear against it. The hair on the back of your neck stands upright, your suspicions confirmed while you listen in. No, this will not do. It is forbidden to partake in such activities and to do so within your kingdom's walls? Punishment is eminent. Your hand will strike down upon the offenders, mercy cast to the wayside.

You push open the wooden doors, your enraged stare falling upon your concubine, Choso, ramming himself deep into one of your handmaids. His strong, muscular back positioned towards you, her cries of pleasure overtaking the sound of you opening the heavy spruce door. Fury courses through your body, but you can’t help but marvel at the sight before you. His broad, toned back tensing with every thrust, the sweet symphony of moans dancing through the still air. You grit your teeth, fists clenching on either side of your body, your heavy gown and tight corset making it far more difficult to breathe when coupled with your lungs constricting in a fit of jealousy. A knot forms in your stomach as you watch Choso toss his head back in pure bliss, his hips stilling as he unloads into her. Betrayal drives a stake through your heart as you watch your sweet concubine find pleasure elsewhere.

Your voice broke through their post-coital bliss with ease.

“Guards!” you shout, and not a second later, three armored men are at your side. The two of them jump at the sudden intrusion of your voice, Choso breaking away from his secret whore as his shameful stares meet your wounded eyes. The hurt doesn’t stay on your face for long though, blind rage soon replacing it.

“Seize her, leave the man to me,” you direct with the wave of your gloved hand. Within an instant, the guards pull the woman from the bed, dragging her down the hall before turning the corner, heading toward the dungeon. Her desperate pleas and anguished apologies echo through the castle walls. You pay her no mind as your attention falls onto Choso.

“Your majesty, I-” he begins, but is abruptly interrupted by your palm suspending in front of you, your daring eyes begging for him to disobey your signal for silence. He knows better than to push his luck in this moment, the fact that he isn’t being dragged away with the woman brings a wave of hopefulness in regards to your leniency with his punishment. But his naive ideations of your forgiveness are all in vain as you bring your hand back down to your side before speaking again.

“To my chambers.”

He stays frozen, his fear-stricken body glued to the floor by your overpowering demeanor, and your waning patience snaps at his continued insubordination.

“Now, Choso. I will not ask again,” you demand, eyes never faltering. He bows his head complicitly before reaching for his undergarments.

“Don’t bother redressing,” you add, a tinge of seduction filtering its way through your harsh tone. His head snaps to meet yours, rouge painting his pale skin. He knows better than to object, especially now that you've caught him breaking the kingdom's holiest rule. Walking through the castle completely nude is the easiest punishment to digest. Heat prickles through his skin at the thought of what was in store for him and he prays that he makes it out alive. He inhales deeply through his nose before taking small, timid steps toward you. You glower at him as he gets closer, turning on your heels to exit as he dutifully shadows you down the hall.

He kneels in front of your bed out of instinct, placing his palms against his thighs. You call for your servants to remove your dressings. He doesn’t have the gall to watch as you are derobed. He shifts anxiously as you perch yourself at the edge of the bed in your master suit, looking up at you with prayerful eyes, taking in your body as you sit fully naked before him. He swallows the lump that constricts his throat. You stare down at him, and he's glad he's already seated, because the burning blue embers flickering behind your irises make him feel faint. You are the most ethereal deity in his eyes, his unwavering devotion makes him want to shower you in worship and graciously accept the punishments you dole out. Punishments he unfortunately deserves. You choose him out of everyone in your kingdom and he’s grateful that you allow him to indulge in sexual pleasure, but what does he decide to do with his new found freedom? Guilt gnaws at his flesh; how could he betray you? What possessed him to shatter the pact the two of you shared? Lust overtook his body in his moment of weakness, succumbing to his carnal urges, and now he must repent.

“Disappointed is an understatement, Choso. How dare you desecrate these holy walls with your sins. You petulant man,” you growl. His shoulders drop toward the floor, shrinking into himself at your words, head bowed in submission. Your hand finds the back of his neck, grabbing roughly at his tousled locks, a fistful of his hair between your fingers as you bring his head up to face you. Your other hand squeezes either side of his jaw, forcing his lips to part. You suck in your cheeks and spit.

“Swallow it,” you command. He obeys. You slap him roughly before grabbing him by his throat.

“You defy me within my own domain. This is grounds for beheading. I know you understand the terms of living within my kingdom.” You lecture, your sharp words lashing against his fully exposed body. Even in the privacy of your bedroom, you hold the same power as if you were sat upon your throne, commandeering all who are present. His pleading glances dart around your face, but his body can’t help but enjoy this. You run your eyes over him, his abs tensing and his cock pulsating, his angry red tip oozing like he didn’t just relieve himself in that whore only a few minutes prior.

“Look at you…pathetic. Just came and now you’re ready to cum again.” You laugh at his disheveled state. You meet his eyes once again, bringing your head down to his, extending your tongue to a point and licking along his mouth. He whimpers, lurching forward in hopes to thread his lips with yours. You slap him again, pulling your head back but keeping your faces close. You click your tongue against your teeth at his desperation. You release his head from your clutches with a slight shove, returning to your upright position along the edge of the bed.

“So, tell me, Choso. With your infidelity in mind, am I not enough for you?” you ask simply, crossing one leg over the other. He’s confused by your question, his mouth hanging open in hopes that your statement is rhetorical. If he says no, it’s his head on the chopping block. If he says yes, you will laugh in his face as you question the sanctity of his loyalty to you. Rightfully so, as you had caught him in the act of betrayal. Your eyes bore into him, head cocked to the side.

“Speak,” you snap. He shudders at the gravitational pull of your energy.

“You are everything to me, your Majesty…everything and more. I-I will forever be at your service. I repent. I give my body to you, and only you. P-please…make me holy again.” He hopes he chose the right words to spare his life. And lucky for him, he did. In truth, you didn’t want to lose him as your concubine just as much as he didn’t want to lose his life. You smile down at him, your hands reaching out to cup either side of his face, leaning back down so your faces are level.

“Are you willing to show me how sorry you are?" you ask, softer now, eyes low as you lean yourself back on your elbows. He groans at the sight of your exposed cunt and nods back furiously, leaning forward obediently to rest his cheek on your bare thigh, the smell of your sweetness overtaking him.

“Look at me when I address you, Choso, and use your words.” Your voice returns to its original harshness, using two fingers to bring his head back up to look at you.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Let me show you how sorry I am. I’ll do anything for you.” he whimpers out, trying his best to maintain eye contact with you.

"Then make me cum, my sweet little concubine.” His expression brightens ever so slightly, gazing admirably into your eyes. This punishment isn’t so bad, he loves the way you taste.

"Can I touch you? P-please, My Queen...just want to pleasure you," he begs, his overwhelming arousal coupled with his fear of upsetting you again cause him to stutter. His eyes dart back and forth between yours, his eyebrows furrowed. His cheeks are blisteringly warm and he’s practically vibrating against your touch in anticipation. You're pleased with his desperation, nodding with approval, your lips curling into a mischievous grin.

His warm, wet mouth latches onto your pussy almost immediately, his tongue thrashing against your slit and lips sucking greedily on your throbbing bud. He hums in content, the taste of you coating his tongue deliciously, his body yearning for more as he devours you. You arch your back, thrusting your hips toward his mouth.

"S-so eager to please," you breathe out, words laced with the intention of mockery, your fingers interlocking in his dark, mussed hair. You groan at the sight of his lustful eyes staring back up at you through his disheveled bangs.

"That’s it. Show me how much I mean to you…earn your forgiveness." Your words ring through his ears, spurring him on. Moans cascade from your plump, parted lips. He whines at your noises, the delicious sounds you make only for him. Clinging to the sweet melodies of your gospel, his pace picks up, sucking aggressively, hungrily, as if he needs to drink you up completely to survive.

His thick fingers tease your hole before plunging inside, the pads of his digits curling perfectly to massage your sweet spot. Your head falls back, back flush against your silk sheets, grinding even deeper into his mouth.

"My little slut…so thirsty for my cum, aren’t you," you gasp out, the tightness in your tummy intensifying.

He hums greedily, continuing to pump into you, suckling harshly on your sensitive clit. He removes his mouth from your center before quickly replacing his tongue with the fingers of his free hand, rubbing quick, firm circles into your clit.

"Please give me your cum...need to taste your sweetness. P-please, Your Majesty," he pleads, dipping his head back to your dripping cunt, lapping and sucking at you with fervor, the pace of his fingers relentlessly pumping into you. His deep voice sends ripples of arousal through your pelvis. His desperate words hang in the air, his frantic fingering and famished mouth against your core sending you over the edge. Your hips rut, thighs shaking as you cry out for him as you spray your release across his face. His rhythm continues while he works you through your blinding orgasm, groaning into you, tasting the hallowed juices he so hopelessly craved.

His fingers slow, his lips detaching from your throbbing clit with a satisfying pop. He beams with pride, panting as he drinks in the heavenly glow emanating off your body, his lips swollen and his face wet from your release, your body aching as the waves of your orgasm finally simmer down.

"My good boy...so precious," you praise, sitting up, your hands cupping his cheeks, his eyes lighting up. Your chest heaves as you work to regain your breath. He nuzzles his face against your thigh, his hands massaging your calves, sighing contently as you stroke his head, tucking strands of his hair behind his ear.

“I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine,” he whispers into your skin.

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚

author notes: wooo weee this was fun to write. had been dying to do a dom!reader, i hope yall liked it ♡ willing to do a part two of this!!

my requests are open! send a message here ♛ drop an emoji with your ask and ill add you to my anon club xx

thank yall so very much for supporting my work...i hit 100 followers today AND it's my birthday so i feel so grateful rn

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen writing #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso x reader #choso kamo #choso smut #bratbby333

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winterchimez · 5 months

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🔎 — the 007 files

James Bond—or rather, the public was more aware that his code name, agent 007, has been working behind the scenes for decades now. imagine this: what if the agent 007 that you have come to know of was actually more than just one person? what if the famous group The Boyz were all agent 007 working under M16. buckle up as you access M16's top secret operative files, aka the most famous missions these individual agents have succeeded in.

A/N: why hello my fellow readers! i present to you a tbz x 007 cross-over collab series!! i've had this idea for a while now and thanks to @sungbeam who gave me the genius idea of hosting an open collab (and co-planning with me) for this!! i'm so so excited and i really hope this doesn't flop lmao 😭 so yes, please feel free to join the fun! 😉

🔎 STARRING: the boyz x f!reader/oc // g.n!reader/oc

🔎 GENRE: crime, angst, fluff, crack, suggestive, smut (only for 18+ writers!!), assorted pairings (more to be added)

🔎 WARNINGS: will be stated in each respective files!

RULES & REGULATIONS:

↬ choose a tbz member & a bond film to start off! you may write the story loosely based on the storyline of the film/a certain scene(s) inspired by the film itself! or alternatively, write it based on the themed song for the specific film you have chosen! (eg: sangyeon - the spy who loved me)

↬ slots will be first come first served! in total there will be 11 slots for 11 members

↬ only tbz member x reader / tbz member x oc!! no tbz member x member for this

↬ as mentioned above, writers will have the option to choose to either write a female/gender neutral reader/oc!

↬ minimum wc would be 1k, and there's no maximum so feel free to write as much as you'd like! pls include a "read more" feature after your summaries/genre/warnings/word count/a.n.

↬ you are allowed to write any genre you like! pls make sure you're over 18+ if you wish to include smut in your work.

↬ no sensitive topics will be allowed (eg: su*c*de, r*pe, r*cism, etc.)

↬ i will be making a discord gc for easier access, updates, and even brainstorming with one another! it will also help me loads with any announcements i will be making. joining in would be highly encouraged (though if you choose not to that's totally fine by me, just keep me regularly updated in my dms!)

↬ the project will officially kick start off on December 1st 2023, and you will have till March 31st 2024 to complete your work! if ever you wish to drop out / need a bit more time to publish your work pls do let me know!!

↬ fill out this google form to secure your place in this collab :) (key: shaken not stirred)

↬ lastly, reblog this post, @ me in your fics & use the hashtag 🔎 — the 007 files in your works!!

FILES:

Lee Sangyeon — The Spy Who Loved Me @winterchimez

Jacob Bae — The World Is Not Enough @snowflakewhispers

Kim Younghoon — Goldfinger @daisyvisions

Lee Hyunjae — Skyfall @kkinou

Lee Juyeon — For Your Eyes Only @juyeonszn

Kevin Moon

Choi Chanhee — No Time To Die @maessseongs

Ji Changmin — Casino Royale @sungbeam

Ju Haknyeon

Kim Sunwoo — On Her Majesty's Secret Service @kimsohn

Eric Sohn — From Russia With Love @cloverdaisies

#🔎 — the 007 files #kpop collab #the boyz #tbz #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz collab #tbz collab #the boyz crime #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #the boyz suggestive #the boyz smut #the boyz x 007 au #tbz x 007 au #james bond 007 #james bond au #007 au

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kuwdora · 4 days

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@perseruna I LISTENED!! I MANIFESTED!!

the lion, the witch, and the audacity of this bitch geralt/jaskier/yennefer ~6k, explicit. d/s, sexual roleplay, banter, erotic massage. more tags on ao3.

Trouble is afoot and it will be a long evening for the White Knight.

The White Knight has been in the Queen’s service for more than half his life. He currently stands beside her royal majesty in the throne room, bearing witness to the thorn in the Queen’s side. A thorn he will be called upon to remove.

Whether he was pushing miscreants from the kingdom with his blade, doling out punishments on behalf of the Queen, or sating her majesty’s sexual desires, the White Knight fulfilled his responsibilities every day of his life. However such consistency was not common in all of the Queen's loyal subjects.

This spy in particular, a faun with broad shoulders and a nervous smile, a tufted little goatee and soft, folded ears. He has a penchant for distracting the castle guards with jovial questions about their favorite snacks. He has often derailed the White Knight's retinue from their duties with gossip from the latest winter festival.

Mr. Tammus had come into the Queen’s service only a few short years ago. The White Knight had been on assignment looking for allies to enlist to the Queen’s service. He’d ventured into the western mountains, seeking the brawn of a clan of minotaurs. It was there that he discovered Mr. Tammus beguiling the clan leader and her grandfather with a musical jig. Mr. Tammus had accidentally broken a curse that had fouled their young with human-features. Mr. Tammus could have asked for anything from the grateful clan but instead requested only shelter and their undivided attention while he performed his latest song.

Upon witnessing Mr. Tammus’ charm on the minotaurs firsthand, the White Knight knew the faun would prove useful for the Queen’s service.

Tammus indeed proved to be a valuable asset with eyes and ears in the community and borderlands, able to strike up friendships all due to his cherub-like face and penchant for outlandish tales that could enchant anyone with ears. He found secrets and gossip in the unlikeliest of places that was useful to the Queen and her royal guard.

Yet there are times where the faun’s flightiness has tested the Queen's patience.

Which is why Mr. Tammus is currently on his knees and bowing, snowmelt slipping from his hair onto the floor. read on ao3

#this screencap has taken up primary residence in my yennskier inspo folder since july #i love them all so much i just had to play #enjoy the softness and banter and sex per my usual geraskefer fare #i feel so hapless and flaily trying to write fic posts with excerpts or summaries and all that. but!! at least i finished the fic omg #geraskefer #twn #jaskier #geralt #yennefer #yennskier

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archiveikemen · 19 days

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Liam Evans Main Story: Chapter 25 (Crazy Love)

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

If life was a fairytale, it’d be easy to be happy.

As long as you refrain from “doing the wrong things”. For example…

Entering a forest that’s off limits, opening a door you shouldn’t, knowing a forbidden secret, and—

…

Kate: Thank you so much for the help you’ve given me all this time.

Colleague: I’m going to be so lonely without you here. But I’ll always be hoping for your success. Take care, Kate.

My colleagues bid me farewell after I told them that I would continue my service to the imperial court.

I reassured them that there were amazing people at the court, and working there would be like a promotion.

They were delighted to hear that. But had I told them what my new job truly entailed and who I was living with, their response would definitely be much different.

At least, that was me a month ago.

I said goodbye to the post office that smelled like ink and walked away, wiping away the small feeling of loneliness.

…

London, the capital of England, was the world’s most prosperous city under the reign of Her Majesty Queen Victoria.

Everyone lived their lives by their own desires, and today was no different.

In a corner of the street, I spotted a poster of my lover.

(Ah… it’s a poster of Liam.)

The poster announced the performance of a new play at The Scala called “The Hunchback of Notre-Dame”, with Liam starring as the main character.

And the premiere was tonight.

— Today, I’m lying to Liam about one thing.

Liam was unaware that I was going to watch the play.

(Liam got me tickets for the closing show, but I bought myself tickets to the premiere without telling him.)

(As a big fan of theatre, of course I have to secure tickets for myself!)

(Also…)

Liam was always gifting me bouquets of flowers, so I wanted to surprise him tonight by buying him flowers too.

(Fufufu, I hope I can give him a surprise.)

…

I went to a flower shop in the ever so lively Leadenhall Market to choose flowers for Liam.

(What kind of flowers should I get him? There's Gerbera, Cosmos… Ah.)

Amongst the various flowers on display, I found some modern roses that resembled the colour of Liam’s hair.

Modern roses were the flowers Liam often gifted me.

(... Yep, I’ve decided. I’ll go with these.)

Kate: Excuse me. Could you kindly put these modern roses into a bouquet for me, please?

Florist: Sure! These flowers are pretty rare and we don't always have them in stock. You’re very lucky.

Florist: By the way, did you know that modern roses have a very wonderful meaning in flower language?

Kate: No… what do they mean?

Florist: Modern roses signify “gratitude”. For example, you’re grateful to have met someone.

(“I’m grateful that I met you”.)

(I don’t think I’ve ever said that to Liam.)

– Flashback Start –

Kate: Thank you so much, Liam. I’ll be sure to cherish them well, so that they’ll keep blooming for a long time.

Kate: If I display them by my room’s window, they’ll definitely bring a smile to my face tomorrow morning…

Liam: If flowers can make you smile every morning, then I’ll give you however many flowers you want!

– Flashback End –

Ever since we met, Liam has gifted me countless bouquets of flowers that signify “gratitude”.

(What was Liam feeling each time he gifted me those flowers?)

(Has Liam… ever received such beautiful flowers from anyone?)

Throughout his life, there was probably not a single person who celebrated his existence.

Liam was physically and mentally wounded, to the point where he felt hopeless and wanted to give up on himself.

But I believed that Liam possessed a pure heart that cherished the people around him dearly.

It must've been so painful for him to live in such a cruel world with that kind heart.

I wished that he would throw his kindness away instead of bear the burden of his pain and suffering, but that was definitely not the kind of person Liam was.

(I can’t turn back time, but I can still express it to him from now on.)

(From now on, I’ll tell him often how grateful I am for him.)

(I’ll continue celebrating his existence.)

…

Seated close to the seats on the first floor of the theatre, I watched the curtains rise for “The Hunchback of Notre-Dame”.

– Flashback Start –

Tom: Liam, overcome your struggles. After “Hamlet”, play the role of Quasimodo in “The Hunchback of Notre-Dame”.

– Flashback End –

Just like he promised to that day, Liam portrayed himself as Quasimodo and overcame all odds as him.

Quasimodo (Liam): “This world I live in can be so cruel that there are times I want to look away from it, abandon it… and even stop living.”

Quasimodo (Liam): “But, even so… I have to keep on living!”

Quasimodo (Liam): “Until the day this heart stops beating…!”

The final lines were followed by an atmosphere so silent you could hear a water droplet fall.

— One second, two seconds, three seconds.

Then came a roar of non-stop thunderous applause.

I stood up from my seat and clapped for Liam as he stood under the spotlight during the curtain call.

(Ah… he shines so bright. So, very, bright.)

His graceful bow towards the audience made him look like a beautiful star people longed for, but I knew that my hands could touch that star.

Curly Haired Lady: … *sniffle*

Freckled Lady: Goodness, why are you crying? … *sniffle* I’m crying too. Something feels different about Liam, don't you think?

Curly Haired Lady: … Yeah. I can’t really say it well… but he seems much happier than before.

Hearing the voices of Liam’s passionate fans made my lips relax into a smile.

(Ah…)

My eyes met Liam’s from afar.

Liam: :D

(H-He noticed me.)

Liam flashed me a broad smile when he saw me, and winked at me.

Liam: ;)

Curly Haired Lady: Kya! H-He just…! Liam just winked at me!

Freckled Lady: Y-You fool! Liam winked at me! ME!

Curly Haired Lady: Nooo, me! Liam~! I love you!

Freckled Lady: Not fair! I love you too…!

Liam: :0

Liam: Haha.

…

One of the theatre members told me to wait for Liam on stage, and so I stood there on the empty stage after all the audience had left the theatre.

The spotlight above was so bright, I involuntarily squinted my eyes.

(... With a light this bright, there’s no escaping from or hiding anything.)

Whether it's in the light or in the pitch darkness, there was no such thing as remaining completely unharmed.

Sometimes, life can be so cruel that we feel like throwing it away.

Liam: Kate.

Kate: … Liam.

Despite that, I never want to let go of this miracle — every moment when our eyes meet, when we're breathing together, and when my heart races with excitement at the sight of him.

However embarrassing it may be, I held tightly onto even the tiniest bits of hope, wanting to live.

Until the day darkness comes for us.

Standing face to face with each other, I held out the bouquet I had hidden behind my back to my lover.

Kate: Congratulations on the premiere, Liam! Also…

Kate: Thank you for being alive.

Liam: T-These flowers…

Liam: … Haha. … It’s my first time hearing someone thank me for being alive.

Liam awkwardly accepted the bouquet.

— He smiled with genuine joy.

Kate: I didn't expect you to see me from the stage. I wanted to surprise you.

Liam: These eyes were made to look for you.

Liam: By the way, what were you looking at just now?

Kate: I was looking at the spotlight. It’s so bright.

Liam: When you lie down here and look up — it’s even brighter.

Liam laid down on the floor and patted his side, motioning me to lie down next to him.

Following him, I joined him on the floor under the bright spotlight.

(Woah…)

Kate: The lights kind of look like the stars in the sky, don't they?

Liam: … Yeah, I know.

Liam: Hey, Kate… do you know of this saying?

Liam: The moment you get to a place where the stars are within an arm’s reach, you’ll find it difficult to breathe. Within seconds, you’ll be on your way to heaven.

Liam: I don’t really understand, but for some reason it’s just always in my head.

I found myself staring at Liam’s profile as he spoke.

Kate: … If you could go to that place where you could touch the stars, would you want to?

Liam: If I could touch the stars… huh.

Liam reached a hand towards the spotlights hanging from the ceiling.

Liam: Even now, I still long to touch something as beautiful as the stars.

I recalled the day when he told me that everything apart from himself was beautiful.

Liam: But…

He pulled me close with an outstretched arm, firmly holding my shoulder.

Liam: Right now, however dirty or ashamed I feel… I much prefer being able to touch you like this.

Liam: I always will.

Liam: Perhaps, this way, I’ll always be happy.

As Liam spoke with a soft smile—

I leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the neck.

Liam: … It tickles.

Liam just living on with a beating heart was enough for me to see him as the most beautiful person in the world, like the brightest star in the sky; and yet, he would most likely spend the rest of his life refusing to acknowledge his beauty and wishing to become a star while carrying the burden of his permanent scars.

(Even if you never realise how beautiful you are, I’ll always stay by your side and watch over you.)

Liam: I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Liam: I don't know what will happen, but I think it’d be nice to have you with me…

Liam: I hope that you’ll have me in your eyes tomorrow too…

Kate: What are you talking about…? I’ll always be waiting for you to spend our tomorrows together, until you get sick of it.

Liam: Then… let’s be together until the very last second of our lives.

Liam: Ahh, I’m looking forward to tomorrow…

Enveloped by the light that resembled the stars in the sky, we waited for our tomorrow to come.

Our hearts beating together.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #otome #cybird otome #ikevil main story #liam main story #liam evans

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mydaddywiki · 4 months

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George Baker

Physique: Average Build Height: 6’ 2½" (1.89 m)

George Morris Baker, MBE (1 April 1931 – 7 October 2011) was an English actor and writer. He was best known for portraying Tiberius in I, Claudius, and Inspector Wexford in The Ruth Rendell Mysteries. Baker died in 2011 at the age of 80 of pneumonia, after a stroke.

Tall and handsome, he was once considered to be the ideal candidate to play James Bond in the films, but the role went to Sean Connery because Baker had other commitments. Knowing that, makes him hotter being a bond fan.

Baker, who was married three times and leaves five daughters (four from his first marriage, one from his second) which proves my ‘loving sex’ theory. As well as acting, Baker was also a talented writer for radio and television and a cookery author.

RECOMMENDATIONS: On Her Majesty's Secret Service (1969) Ruth Rendell Mysteries (1987–2000) Midsomer Murders (1997)

#George Baker #mydaddywiki actors

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statisticallymorelikely · 6 months

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rwrb au edit for @ironpe: ghost? au

"I don't know what to tell you, Alex. Prince Henry hasn't been in the public eye for nearly a year now. The official statement is that he had taken ill."

"I'm telling you, Nora, he's dead! That's why his ghost is here haunting me."

"Ugh, rude! I'm not a ghost!"

Alex chooses to ignore his uninvited spectral companion. It's only been occasionally effective in the past few weeks of their co-existence, but now appears to not be one of those times. He sighs at Nora through the phone and bids her a quick goodbye because Henry looks like he's gearing up for a rant.

"Alright, Your Majesty," says Alex in a placating tone. "I retract my previous statement. You're not a ghost, what you are is annoying!"

A translucent glare is thrown his way which gives Alex some satisfaction.

"If you're not dead, then why don't you just go back to your body? Why are you all the way here bothering me?"

"I told you! I'm waiting for someone."

---

It had only been a few months since the whirlwind of his mom's election, inauguration and their subsequent moving-in to the White House when Alex Claremont-Diaz got the fright of his life. He had been in his bedroom, slogging through Bleak House for an assignment, loudly complaining to no one that British authors are soooo boring when an offended voice huffs in his ear. "I beg your pardon??!!"

A totally masculine shriek and a thorough sweep from the Secret Service later and he was face to face with what looked to be a haughty blond man at 50% opacity that only he could see.

This event kicked off what is at best a surreal experience and at worst a literal nightmare.

Since then, Alex has spent a considerable amount of time alternating between adjusting to his new roommate and figuring out how the Prince of England could be haunting him and why he couldn't remember much of who he is, only that he's waiting for someone.

But as Alex gets to know Henry more and more, he's surprised he likes what he sees. Henry's sharp wit, affectionate sarcasm and deep passion have charmed him despite his initial resistance. And now, he's more determined than ever to find the truth and help Henry get back to his body, with the hope that maybe when he wakes, something more awaits them both on the other side.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrb edit #rwrbedit #alex claremont diaz #henry fox #au edit tag #happy momf bebby #godddd i wish i could write full fics #anyway henry is in a coma cos he got shot #meeting with his former secret lover the previous first son #who he's still waiting for #but who has already moved on #i liked doing the edit more than the blurb tbh

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pearlywritings · 1 year

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Behind the wall of falling snow we love

synopsis: Pierro is a mysterious man, the kind that guards his secrets well. One of them is being you, his lovely wife, his heart, his everlasting lover. And tonight he is finally stealing you from your duties and bringing you to his residence where you can drop the masks you wear for the people of Snezhnaya and be just a married couple.

pairing: Pierro x fem!reader

tw: smut, established relationship, immortal lovers (you and Pierro are Khaenri’ahns), religious themes, sliiiight a/b/o feature, oral, biting, unprotected sex, obviously size difference

word count: 8.1k+ words in total

author’s note: the words of prayer are actually a translated and altered from French song Ave Maria Païen from Notre Dame de Paris musical.

Ave Tsaritsa, please pardon me, if in your house I have come begging.

The Cathedral of Tsar the Saviour is a majestically built and decorated temple, having been honoring the previous Cryo Archon in the past, and now being full of prayers offered to the Tsaritsa. Today the official designation is the only reminder of in whose name it was founded, as every last piece inside and out was completely replaced with symbolism of the new deity, and Pierro personally made sure of it, solidifying her position and showing what a good and valuable asset he was.

And still is.

Ave Tsaritsa, no one ever taught me about kneeling.

Half-truth and half-lie. The people of Khaenri'ah had their ruler, to whom bowing heads and, on occasion, getting down on their knees was an etiquettish must. But they never had a god to humiliate themselves before. Even now, he doesn’t quite do so, always proudly standing akin to a frozen statue near the goddess, that is not his. Nor yours.

Ave Tsaritsa, please will you keep me from the misery, madness and fools, who rule this evil world?

That's what the purpose of the Harbingers is - enlightening the Snezhnayan people according to the wishes of Her Majesty Tsaritsa and ensuring that nothing can undermine their faith in her and push them off the intended path. Who knew that religion can be such a powerful instrument? Too bad it ended up in his and your hands. Of that he also made sure.

Ave Tsaritsa, I'm a stranger and you're my last recourse.

You were strangers to this snowy land; weakened and exhausted by the curse were your bodies the first time you ever saw your future salvation. Back then the kindness in her eyes wasn’t hidden behind a veil, and the heart, not yet frozen, tightened at the display of your tightly intertwined fingers, the stubborn desire not to let go of each other’s hand touched the deepest parts of her immortal soul. Nowadays Pierro may call it a memory that’ll never be proven existent, because the only person capable of telling it has locked herself in the Zapolyarny Palace, rarely appearing in front of anyone, and The Jester, despite the folly of his code name, is not an idiot to go and flaunt around about his dear one.

Ave Tsaritsa, please can't you hear me? Please take down all these walls between us. We all should be as one.

A wall between a follower and an Archon…foolish to try and break it. But the Cryo Archon heeds as she is fond of your singing, and you can hardly call yourself her follower, having willingly become an instrument in the silver-haired wise and cunning man’s hands. You became the holy wonder of Snezhnaya - a maiden, who hasn’t grown older a day over the centuries, and many generations came to witness your divine service and had your voice stuck in their minds, piercing their very souls. And the man could claim with certainty - you were loved by the people.

Ave Tsaritsa, please watch over my life night and day.

She really doesn’t, but Snezhnayans do, however it was by your wish and with your consent, that he put you before so many watchful eyes, and the Archon’s ones as well. But then again, if you want to hide something precious, you should put it right before the seeker’s nose. He made you adored, he secured your safety with the right deeds of yours - all Abyss would break loose if something happened to their cherished high priestess and no one would like to incur the wrath of the Tsaritsa and the Harbingers.

Ave Tsaritsa, oh please protect me. Please guard me and my love; now I pray.

His stone heart flutters for how softly, how tenderly have you sung of who your heart is beating for. Not for the deity, no - it’s pumping blood for the very man who is standing in the shadow of a wide pillar, gazing at you from behind a mask and holding a thick cape similar to his own, with his plans quite evident.

Tonight you are leaving with him.

Ave Tsaritsa. Amen.

You breathe the last words of the song against your hands, clasped together in front of you in a prayer, and the sound seems to infiltrate every corner of the grand catholicon. Your figure is ethereal, kneeling on the steps before the huge stained glass of the Cryo Archon your words were directed to. Basking in the light of the moon, pouring through the glass and painting you in the sacred blues of Her Majesty's robes, you look like a holy being, and had Pierro not known you were a sinner like him, he would've been tricked by your false chastity. Whiteness of the high priestess’s robes is pure, much purer than the snow outside, but now tainted by the colors of the Archon you both swore to serve.

Even if she doesn't, Pierro watches you, and his gaze will never waver.

Your archbishop’s crown reflects the light and diamonds gleam coldly, just like they are. The long veil hides your soft pretty hair he loves running his fingers through so much. It soothes him, reminds him of the times he used to witness you braiding them in the morning and unbraiding in the evening, sitting on the edge of your shared bed and talking about everything and nothing.

Now this became a privilege, one you are granted only once every couple of months. Sometimes separation is unbearable, but the different flight of time immortals experience makes it more tolerable. And you both know - it’s a small price for the power you managed to obtain.

Slowly you open your eyes - breathtaking cosmic crystals, that shine with pretensive innocence and have fooled and enchanted much more mortals you care to count. You are already doing so much for them, no need to try and remember every single one, it’s the clerics’ job and they fulfill it excellently under your guidance.

Pierro thinks this position suits you. You are not stupid, far from it, while leading others along the path he wants, you see right through it, never forgetting your homeland, never forgetting who you are, never forgetting the pain. You always were like this, even half a millenia ago your ingenious character intrigued him and pulled him to you like a magnet. Winning your affections and uniting your destinies by marriage is still one of his biggest personal achievements.

Despite being cursed, he is a blessed man and was one long before the doom was brought upon his nation. You are his eternal blessing.

You descend more gracefully than the deity behind you ever could in Pierro's eyes, because you were descending to him. Robes and the veil flow behind you magnificently - a sight he witnessed thousands of times, yet it still gets to steal his breath away, because you look like a lovely bride to be wed.

And I would marry you again, in every other world or timeline that is existent.

That’s what you told him when he admitted the reason for his awe-stricken expression during your first century of living in the land of snows. Even now, the cold and terrifying advisor of the Tsaritsa feels the same.

“Have you waited for long?” You start speaking not even halfway close to him. The question echoes in the majorly empty space, and prompts the man to step out of his hiding spot, becoming the victim of the moonlight as well.

“No, I have not,” his answer is short, but only because he doesn’t like getting personal before you two are back in his manor, where he knows no one can interfere. You simply nod at that.

“I’ll go and change. Will you wait for me, Lord Pierro?”

Always.

“Of course, Your Eminence,” he doesn’t ask you to take your time, and you know that while he is an embodiment of patience, you don’t have any second to waste.

Putting the crown on the pedestal and laying out your ceremonial clothes for the trusted deaconesses to take care of tomorrow, you can't stop the excitement pouring from your heart. Two months ago you couldn't meet due to the passing of the Eighth Harbinger - you were busy with the memorial service to commemorate La Signora and your beloved was stolen away by his duties and complications, caused by her death. While you did not hold anything against the fair lady, your thoughts were far from mourning, only thinking of the wasted time with an edge of bitterness. It happened before, and you learnt to bear with that, but even with all your practiced patience you'd never want the repeat of that three-year long occurrence when you haven't seen or heard from him at all due to your respective occupations.

You sigh in relief when the heavy fabric and furs are brought upon your shoulders, hiding the elegant, yet simple outfit, reserved for your outings. The weight of his big gloved palms is also welcomed and the deep sound of his voice washes like calming waves over you.

"Should we be on our way?" You don't see him, but you know the glow his eyes possess. Usually unreadable, they glint with emotion, the one - you can proudly declare - reserved only for you.

"Yes, we should, My Lord. We have quite a number of things to discuss and settle."

The staff of the Jester's manor know that their master and the head of the priesthood have business to discuss and under no circumstance should they be interrupted for the night and the next day. Fireplaces are lit and fresh wood is prepared. The room, that became your personal chambers in his estate, is cleaned and readied for your most comfortable stay, and the servants make sure to move as far away from the West wing, where it and the living room you use for your discussions are located. Eavesdropping is akin to a death sentence, but many would consider themselves imbeciles for trying to sneak on the two most respected and praised people in the whole country.

How fortunate it is that the Jester's personal chambers are in the same wing, just at the other end of the corridor? Servants have just one part of the building to avoid during those times, not worried about accidentally doing something wrong in regard to him and you.

Little do they know what exactly happens behind the closed door, since no one is allowed near them during these particular times. They can’t even fathom the sins your bodies bask in, perfect images crumbling down and revealing the real yous, wild and yearning, drinking up each other's touch like a life-saving water of the oasis, work talk replaced with sweet moans and low grunts and long-forgotten names occasionally slipping past your parted lips.

This is why the sheets get burnt after every stay of yours. Staff members know that's being done to prevent anyone from feeling tempted to steal and sell the fabric, touched by the skin of the Saint. In reality no one needs to know of the reasons behind torn holes and stains.

Pierro destroys them personally in the morning, as you calmly sip on your tea, seated in the armchair of his bedroom with nothing but the silk bathrobe covering your body (replaced by just his shirt occasionally). Only then you devote some of your time for actual discussions and planning, while having an amazing supper and regaining your strength for another couple of rounds, that do not even have to include the bed.

Sometimes, though, the discussion starts when servants leave you till the next evening - the time you inevitably shall depart.

"Anything notable on your side?"

You hum, plucking a pristine white petal from the water surface and twirling it between your fingers. The large floor-installed pool is enough to fit at least three people of your lover’s complexion, but there is only you, water up to your collarbones and pleasantly hot against your skin. Hundreds of petals float around you, covering your body from two piercing eyes and occasionally bumping against your bent knees, and you don’t even want to think how many flowers the servants wasted just to “please” you.

“Nothing much, and nothing of concerning importance” you admit with a huff. Church is actually a pretty good source of information; with Snezhnayan being such good believers and followers it is not hard to gather intel through confessions and later pass the concerning ones to Pierro for him to see if it actually can cause harm. But as of later it was very calm.

“Though I must admit, one young lady really caught my interest,” you throw the petal away and sink a bit deeper, water pooling around your neck now. You lift a leg, stretching a little, and from the corner of the eye watch the half-naked man, seated on the edge of the pool, following with his attentive gaze the path the droplets make down your smooth skin before they disappear somewhere at your thigh.

“And that is?” Oh, these eyes. If you were standing, you’d certainly sink onto the nearest piece of furniture, unable to fight its magic even hundreds of years later. His mostly bared body becomes the next victim of your fascination, and you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling that tingling sensation at the tips of your fingers.

“Well…” you hum again, holding his inquiring gaze and slowly, teasingly lowering your leg back into the water. “If you take all of your clothes off right now, I might tell you."

'All of his clothes' is an open shirt and a pair of pants, both made of a very light fabric. He probably abandoned the robe while walking through your bedroom, and the mask was most likely taken off there too.

"Oh?" His chest shakes with a deep chuckle, that has that specific dark edge to it, that makes you aware of why people submit to him. "It seems the information is really not of such a great importance, if you are asking me to undress in exchange."

"Mmm, you saw through my intentions. But can you really blame me? It's been so long…" Your voice trails off and you sigh, diverting your eyes elsewhere, sight quickly obscured with the images of your last encounters, making your heart clench. You must stay unbothered, but this is so excruciating, being trapped in the land of raging blizzards and frozen landscapes and the loving touch becoming not an everyday thing, but a seldom occurrence. The memories of what it used to be like are almost non-existent at this point, having been wiped out of your mind with the new reality.

Gaze falls onto your wrist and a small smile tugs onto your lips. An intricate band of the metal one would never find again and the stones that lie deep down in the mines of the miasm-contaminated homeland, rests against your skin, gleaming beautifully in the light. The same is wrapped around Pierro's wrist, just a bit wider than yours - one Khaenri'ahn tradition you were allowed to preserve - the symbol of your marriage, which in the broad daylight stays hidden under your long sleeves.

The rustle of clothes doesn't register in your brain right away, but when it does your head whips to the side, just in time to see the silver-haired man sit back down, carelessly dumping his nightwear near the side of the tube.

"Happy now?" All sorrowful thoughts leave your mind instantly when all of his body is on display for your hungry gaze. With a soft splash you lift yourself slightly, enough to get on your knees and move closer to him. His braceleted hand immediately takes a hold of yours and you comfortably lean your chest on his thigh, using an elbow to create support for your head to look up at him.

"Yes, I am. Thank you, my love."

My love. Sometimes Pierro thinks you are just a dream, a pretty, nostalgic dream, where love is not just a concept. Snezhnaya and the closeness to the Cryo Archon affected him far more than you. He toughened up, his gaze got heavier and frown deeper, lips are always drawn in a tight line and voice is even and cold, lack of emotion coming straight from his almost destroyed heart. Just one part is still alive, and warm, and capable of feelings.

This part is loving you.

"Do I deserve to be told what caught your interest?"

You smile at that, happy that he is willing to engage in a chat that doesn't relate to your plans at all. It's one of the things that serves as a reminder that you are special to him, more special than anyone and anything else, be it the Tsaritsa or your scheming.

"Oh, that's a funny thing!" Beaming, you trace one of the scars on his abdomen with your finger, noting with a smirk how it tenses under the touch. "One of your colleagues gained a faithful admirer. Quite a hopeful one, if I am being honest."

Pierro hums, showing that he is actually listening, and reaches his hand to gently pat your hair. You are so pretty, leaning on him, breasts pushed against his leg, back arched and fingers caressing his stomach, which soon becomes an absentminded gesture as your unkissed mouth moves in speech.

"She's been coming every week for three months already, lightening candles for his safe return."

'Not Arlechino, not Columbina,' he notes, attempting to distract himself from the image before him, but still noticing every single detail about his perfect wife. Hand slides to graze the side of your face and put a stray lock behind your ear. You glance up at him and, holding his gaze, turn your head in the opposite direction to press a kiss to the inside of his wrist, just above the wedding band. Pierro sharply inhales.

"Either way, she's been confessing her affections and, as the priest described it, did so "in a dreamy voice a young girl would talk about upcoming marriage". You think I spoke to my parents the same way about you?"

Your gaze turns curious and the notion of your question finally manages to return his focus. It's not often that you voice the things from the past, but on particularly calm days like today it just slips.

"I don't know. Did you?"

"I don't remember…"

Yes, that is why. And sometimes it just hurts.

"But no matter. Honestly I am quite surprised that people like her are a rare occasion. I mean, all of the Harbingers have qualities that might make you fall in love with them."

"Do many live or get close enough to witness those?" Pierro raises a brow and you roll your eyes, poking his side.

"Fair point. That's probably why she chose to fall for Childe. Young, energetic and outgoing he seems to wear his heart on his sleeve."

"Tartaglia, huh?" Makes sense, if he thinks of it. "But a marriage? Already?"

"Of course not! All I said she sounded like that, the only way the wedding is happening is in her imagination!" You burst into giggles at your lover's silly assumption, not missing him huff and tighten a hold on your hand.

"You are quite talkative today."

"I haven't seen you for four months! I missed you! You can't seriously expect me to be silent just staring at you with wide lovesick eyes."

As the man watches you dig your elbow in his thigh to push yourself off of him to stand up with the most fake offended look on your face, he thinks that his life would've ended had you succumbed to the fall of Khaenri'ah. You are the one keeping the part of him alive, cradling his heart in your loving hands, passing your warmth and aligning his heartbeat with yours.

Pierro loves you with everything left in him, and he himself can't measure if it's a lot or a little. He doesn't remember what it's like being humanly soft - but you tell him he is doing enough. And he chooses to believe you.

When a shadow is cast upon him his attention is stolen back by the present. Even with his huge complexion he has to crane his neck a bit to look at you, standing at your full height and staring down at him.

"But you are right," white lashes flutter when a warm palm cups a scarred side of his face, but he doesn't let himself succumb to the peaceful feeling, not yet, "it's time to finish with the conversations for today. Let's move to the bedroom."

Pierro is convinced that your body was created for worship. So soft, skin smooth despite all your hardships, locks thick and heavy, cascading down your shoulders, lips plump and sweet, lower one seductively caught between pearly teeth as you lead him back to your room, holding his wrist with both of your hands.

You are bared to each other, and can sense the space filling with the heat of arousal your bodies radiate. Every step closer to the bed ignites a small fire in the pit of your stomach, fueled by anticipation. Just a couple of meters and he'll push you down and pin with his weight, caging you with no thoughts of letting go for a long while, oh, you can already feel it with every cell.

With an abrupt stop you tug him closer so his body practically bumps into yours, and, releasing his wrist, cup his face instead.

"You are so handsome," you smile, standing on your tiptoes to reach and plant a kiss in the corner of his mouth. "And I bet you'd look even better on top of me."

Tempting, but he has other plans for now.

Your eyes grow wider, but a sparkle of excitement is clear in them, when the tall, broad man slowly, not breaking eye contact, gets down on his knees. Well, he did say your body was created for worshipping, so it makes Pierro your most devoted follower.

His lips are a relief against your heated skin and you sharply exhale, sliding palms to the back of his head. The kiss lingers against your stomach, the only 'ugly' part of your divine body. The place where the curse decided to bloom, circling your waist akin a wide belt, variations of dark splotches creating a bizarre picture on the canva of the skin. Still it is lesser than his is, but the price you paid for it was a devastating one.

"You are beautiful," he whispers, pressing another kiss, and then another, and then some more, leading a path down your pelvis. "So, so beautiful…"

"So now we are exchanging compliments?" Your fingers play with the longer strands of hair at the back of his neck as you are looking down at him, not missing a move, not missing the way his eyelids slide close, when he is almost there.

"Rather speaking truth," is his short answer, before his hands start prying your thighs apart.

"One leg on my shoulder," the command sends shocks through your body and you immediately obey, almost too excitedly throwing your leg over his shoulder. A kiss to the inside of your thigh is your reward.

"Now stand still, and once I secure my arms, put the other one too."

The anticipated display of physical strength makes you lose your voice for a moment and all you can do is quickly nod.

"Words, my dear, I need your words."

"I-I understood."

"Good girl."

The praise makes you blush and is enough of a distraction from what he is in the process of. But not a minute later, both your legs are on his shoulders, their broadness giving you enough room to keep your thighs spread. The globes of your ass are literally resting in the crook of his elbows, arms reaching up your back and palms splaying against your shoulder blades, creating a perfect support to lean into.

Your breath hitches when his warm breath ghosts against your slicked folds and heart begins violently beating with your body realizing the sheer strength of its partner and future pleasure this man is going to provide. And oh Archons, centuries proved how masterful he is in both.

First shudder wrecks your body when his thick tongue traces along your slit, coating it with saliva and teasing you with flicks of the tip. You blissfully sigh, closing your eyes and enjoying the small shocks sent down your spine with every drag of his wet muscle, before he steals your breath away by dipping it inside.

Pierro hums, content with tasting you again after so long, and you are so pliant in his arms, putting an ultimate trust in him, that his own sex swells at the thought. The tip of his tongue catches against your clit, which makes you gasp and tighten your hold on the back of his head, involuntarily bucking hips forward. But he is not going to give you everything right away, no, he is going to show you his faith slowly, so you can understand every single notion behind his actions of praise and worship.

That is why he is drawing his face away, smirking at your needy whine. Attention shifts on your thighs - the last time he thoroughly marked them, so harshly in fact, so you would’ve still had them aching for days to remember the time spent together. Now your flesh is so pristine clean, that he hardly suppresses the urge to bite you right away. Instead he wills himself to plant kisses, sucking the skin occasionally to leave the blooming spots to darken later in beautiful hickies, undeniably hidden by your long and many layered garment. The hairs of his beard tickles you, contrasting with the slight tingles of pain, when he decides to lightly catch the skin between his teeth and urge you to pant and squirm in his hold.

"Stop teasing me…" You try to turn his head back into the direction you most need him in, but yelp, when he digs his nails in your back and bites on your other thigh. "Pierro!"

He only groans, flexing his shoulders to shift you in a more comfortable position, licking the stinging spot he's just abused.

Biting your lip, you have half a mind to reach a hand and touch yourself since he doesn't, but the man knows you well. He glares up at you, the dangerous glint in his eyes doing not much to scare you, but that's not his intention. It's a warning.

"Don't look at me like this," you huff, still taking one of your hands from behind his head, but reaching to cup your breast instead, "I can take a little bit of teasing, but not when you give me a taste and then ignore my aching."

The way you roll the erected bud between your fingers ignites fire in the pit of his stomach, leaving his cock half hard. Who is the one talking about teasing?

A soft cry leaves your lips, when he finally dives back in. Your lover sucks on your clit like there is no tomorrow, pressing the tip of his tongue against it hard. It twitches in his mouth from stimulation and your back arches, fingers grabbing and messing his hair from the intensity he's attacked you with.

Pretty moans and deep groans fill the room as he delves his tongue into the hole - rubbing against your walls deliciously. Slick gathers at his chin and slowly drips down, just a couple landing on his twitching length. You taste divine, in all the years of his life he's never drunk anything that would come close in comparison to your nectar. He grinds his face deeper into your pussy, beard tickling the insides of the thighs and nose nudging the swollen nub, as he savors you.

Your heels dig in his back, your own arches into his arms, and you feel so so heavenly. The palm pressing on his head is as secure as his own hold on you, not letting him back off this time, so unwilling to lose this building pressure in your belly, that'll soon explode, giving you the sweet release you've been yearning for.

Pierro relishes in your throaty whine when he drags the first orgasm out of you, gulping down whatever your spasming cunt has to offer. He feels your legs trembling, but he also knows that this tiny form of relief is nothing compared to how strongly he can actually make you cum on his fingers and cock, when you writhe and thrash under him, begging for no more, or when you are stuffed to the brink and unable to move, weakly clawing at his shoulders to stop. He wonders where tonight will lead you two to.

With an oof your back hits the bed, and his arms slide from under your body. Your hand drops to your side, as the one that was fondling with your chest rests on it, feeling your heart beating against the outstretched palm.

"See, was it so hard?" You smile at him, rising to his feet and wiping his glistening mouth and chin. "Maybe I should sit on your face more. It brings you to action faster."

Wordlessly Pierro grabs your waist and shifts you higher on the bed, climbing onto right after. He lets you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer, slotting your mouths together and sharing a kiss full of unspoken passion. He presses himself on you, pinching your hip and making you gasp, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth. You taste yourself and moan, sliding your own appendage against his, licking at it playfully.

Only you make him feel like this - hot, bothered, desperate, thoughts reigned by you, - everything the Jester is not, but your husband is. Only your touches and your embraces can comfort and relax him, only your kisses steal his breath away and cloud his mind, only your softness against his sturdiness is a perfect match, one that makes so much sense. Only with your heart his agrees to synchronize, sharing one beat, one melody. Only because of you he still knows what love is and that this is the feeling you two share.

When he breaks apart, chest rising and falling in sync with yours, he can't help but focus on your neck - another canva begging to be painted and who is he to decline? Your head falls back as his teeth graze down your throat. Legs, having a mind of their own, spread, and Pierro doesn't miss a chance to use it.

Your cunt is still sensitive when he plunges a long finger inside. Walls flutter and tighten around sudden intrusion, and the skillful thumb starts drawing slow circles on your clit.

"So tight…" He growls into your skin, leaving a tenth hickey on your neck and collarbones. "In four months you must've forgotten the shape of me…"

"I'll be quick to remember, mmm," you bite your lip, when he starts moving and curling his digit, all the while switching his attention to your full breasts. Your moans grow louder than before as he teases your pebbled nipples with his tongue, enveloping them in his mouth, gently sucking and releasing with a wet pop, blowing cool air on them right after only to feel you squeeze his finger.

Pierro is working your open with one and then two digits, not forgetting to play with the bundle of nerves, making the slick gush that soon even you could hear the squelching noise your pussy is making. What would've made you shy and embarrassed on your first couple of nights with him, now turns you on more than anything, prompting you to roll your hips to meet his own movements. Sometimes you feel his hard dick brush against your thigh and you gaze at him in silent question. He shakes his head, declining your help, and adds the third finger.

Now that's a really tight fit and he has a hard time dragging three fingers against your gummy, but resisting walls. You attempt to relax, but there is little you can do with how big everything about him is. Your body grows restless and fingers dig into the pillow above your head, back lifting off the mattress in a sensual arch and feet planting to bend the knees. Once or twice his real name drips like honey from your swollen lips and the man's heart skips a beat or two, your own name whispered between your ribs as kisses are pressed against the skin of your stomach.

When his mouth envelopes your clit again your moans get louder and thighs twitch to close around his head, but he uses his now free hand to push them away and pin you by the lower stomach down. Your fingers reach in his hair again, tugging on silver strands when he sucks particularly hard or curls his digits and brushes that delicious spot inside, that makes you see stars bright enough to outshine the ones in the sky.

Pierro loves when you grab onto him, doesn't matter where or how, he just loves having your hands on his body: holding, caressing, palming, squeezing, cupping… Every single touch makes him aware of your mood and desire to have him, which makes bringing you to mind-blowing orgasm even more satisfying. You inevitably scratch him, leaving a mark of your own.

He softly hisses as you dig your nails in the back of his neck, almost breaking skin to draw blood, and with a trembling scream cum. Pierro fingers you through your high, feeling your walls spasming and slick running down his hand and your thighs, soon to ruin the sheets, and watches you shudder, mouth hanging open and sweet noises creating a pretty melody. Could anyone witness a scene more divine? He can swear he is the only one.

You bite your lip when he plants a kiss to your clit and slowly pulls his fingers out, leaving you so empty, and more yearning than before.

"I want you," is your breathless demand, hands reaching for him. The man quickly grabs them, bringing closer to his mouth to kiss every single knuckle.

"Patience, my dear," is his quiet murmur, which makes you grimace.

"What is here to wait for? I've been waiting for so long, I have patience of a saint!" Literally. "Tonight is the only time I can forget about it, please don't take it away from me, I know you want me too."

And you are right. After having your taste and getting to feel the welcoming softness of your pussy he wants nothing more to sink in and mold you back to the shape of his cock.

Then why wouldn't he do just that? Taking wife's lovely advice never hurts.

He places a large hand above your head to steady himself, preventing him from crushing you with his burly mass. You hold your breath in anticipation, when the big mushroom tip parts your lips and presses against your opening. With a deep inhale Pierro grits his teeth and pushes inside, stomach immediately flexing when your walls swallow an inch. His gaze is on your face, making sure you are alright as he is slowly working his massive dick into your cunt. He knows you can take him, even if sometimes after big breaks your body screams that it can't, but the habit of checking on you just never died.

As he finally fully settles inside, he understands that his ability to move is to be cruelly tested. Your walls have an almost vice grip on his girth and the man above you groans as you tighten even more with sweet moans falling from your lips. Hair disheveled, hands fisting the shits beside your head, legs desperately trying to wrap around his wide waist but to no avail. Your struggle - to embrace his body, to take in his girth, - amuses him, but he has some pity for his dear wife, as his big scarred palms slide down your hips, leaving a trail of fire igniting sensations on your skin, and up to your knees, grasping under them and securing your legs where you want them, where he wants them. You cannot escape, you are his.

"If you don't relax, I won't be able to move."

"But it's-" you mewl when he experimentally rolls his hips.

"Don't tell me it's too much. You've taken it for centuries, don't tell me you can't take your husband's cock now," the man smirks at the way your eyes light up, and the hand with a bracelet on it reaches out to him. He lets himself a moment of vulnerability, leaning forward and into your palm, eyes sliding close and hips stilling, pelvis pressed impossibly close to yours. You feel the hairs of his beard grazing your skin, and softly run the thumb over his lips, usually drawn in a tight line. Breath chokes when he opens his mouth and bites the tip of your finger, gently catching it between his teeth. Your heart skips a beat and you tighten again, eliciting another groan from him and prompting the jaws get a little bit tighter too.

"Relax," sounds more like an angry order, but you know it's just because the man is slowly but surely losing control because of your body.

"What, can't you take your wife's pussy?" You cheekily shoot his words back at him and instantly regret it.

Because Pierro lets go of your poor thumb and launches forward, crushing you a little with his weight, and closes his mouth on your neck. Your whole face goes red from how lewdly you moan when teeth bite hard on that special place that makes you go absolutely wild once stimulated. You still haven't figured out the cause of these, and making you a subject of Dottore's research is the last thing Pierro would do in his life. You discovered it after the curse settled in your bodies and just decided to embrace this new feature, since it proved not to be causing any harm. Quite contrary, it brings you unimaginable pleasure.

Your whole body heats when he tightens his jaws a little more and you claw at his back. You have no idea what you want - him to let go or stay like this, but the unbearable need for him to move gnaws at your insides.

The man smirks when you arch into him, breasts pressing to his chest and pelvises flush against each other. He rolls his hips again, and this time his cock slides smoothly between your walls.

"Good job, love," you shudder and whimper when hot breath ghosts against your ear. Pierro murmurs quiet words of consolation, licking at the bruised place, where the dents of his teeth are already becoming pretty pronounced. He doesn't forget to thrust into you, setting a steady pace and trying some angles to find the perfect one to hit all your favorite spots.

It takes a bit of time, but he figures it out, grabbing you under one knee and pushing it forward to put you in a position that lets him reach deeper, tip kissing your cervix. From now on he grows relentless with only one thought in mind - to satiate you. He fills you over and over with his length, bulging veins caressing your walls, eliciting the sweetest noises your throat is capable of producing, each one sending shivers down his spine.

"More… Please, more…"

You look truly debauched under him, so different from the serene and gentle expression everyone is used to. Only he can see you like this and it feeds his ego, eyes glinting with lust and thrusts growing even more relentless, each bursting pleasure. Skin slaps against skin, sound mixing in you joined noises of bliss. Pierro is grunting above you, pace hard and deep, driving you closer for the third orgasm. He releases your knee, but throws that leg on his shoulder instead, leaning on you even more, so you practically scream when thick hairs on his abdomen start rubbing against your neglected clit.

“Just like that…” he murmurs, both palms firmly planted on both sides of your head as he practically pistons his dick in your cunt. You can only wrap your hands around his arms to steady yourself at least somehow, but it all comes crashing when the tight knot in your stomach snaps.

Your eyes grow wide in the mind-numbing orgasm and your head falls back. It’s almost embarrassing how fast you reached your high this time, your stamina failing you, absolutely destroyed by your husband’s actions. He is still moving inside, helping you to ride it out, snug between your walls, where he belongs.

However you both know it’s far from the end. Suddenly he picks his speed, changing deep and hard pace to a fast one, driving himself into you almost wildly, chasing his own high this time. Your grip onto him only gets stronger, nails biting in his skin as your pussy tightens every time he pushes in. Pierro’s name flows from your lips like a mantra and he lets out a growl-like grunt of your own name. The loud squelches that your recently milked cunt make are clouding his mind and making his reddened cockhead leak with arousal.

Your gaze is hazy from overwhelming pleasure, but even in such a state you could see his tense jawline, blown pupils, drops of sweat sliding down the side of his face and flaring nostrils. The sight makes your pussy contract especially hard, forcing the man to choke and halt in his movements. He feels the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching, and knows, that you are hanging at the brink of yours as well.

“Cum with me,” you frantically nod at his request, heating up from the way he grunts, rutting into you, nudging your pulsing cervix as he fills you with his hot cum. It triggers you and with a loud moan of his name you let the orgasm wash over you again.

Your lover is gentle, grinding slowly, pushing out just a little and then all the way in to keep his load inside. He pants heavily, shoulders dropping and head lowering to press his forehead against your knee, eyes sliding close to catch a small break from the first long-awaited release he’s just experienced.

Moments like this - away from his duties, with you in his arms, filled with absolute bliss, - remind him happiness is possible, that he can rest in your embrace and be caressed by your love, be it in the form of emotional connection or the primal need to mate through sex. Sometimes one thought of you is enough to make his day brighter. Seeing each other is a blessing, since he doesn’t have time to hide in the shadows of the Cathedral to watch you speak to the Tsaritsa’s people, and you have no opportunity to slip out unnoticed and unquestioned to go and visit him. This is why every touch of your hands, every kiss, every thrust, every word exchanged in the privacy of his manor matters, and you try to go as long as your bodies are able to.

Only when you let go of his wrists and relax in his hold, does he stop his movements and carefully drop your leg back onto the bed. Then, ignoring your protests, he slowly slides out, mesmerized by your gaping hole, desperate to be stuffed again by his still hard cock, so wet with your juices it almost shines in the dim light of the bedroom.

You scowl at him for leaving you empty, but your gaze doesn't lose softness reserved for this man only. The amazed way his eyes are glued to you warms your heart and lessens the ache in your core from being ripped of the opportunity to cockwarm him.

"See something you like, my dear?" You flash him a knowing grin and run one of your hands sensually down your body. Star-shaped pupils dart at the movement and immediately sharpen, when two fingers reach and spread your folds. "Do you, perhaps, like the mess you made of me?"

"I do," he breathes out. "Always do."

With a sweet smile you reach to his shoulder, gently sliding an open palm over tense flesh. You are far from satisfied, desire igniting even brighter in you, so you use his moment of distraction, lure him in with your moves, only to gather your strength and roll your bodies, reversing the position. Galactic eyes widen slightly, when his back hits the mattress and your body hovers over his.

"My turn," you lunge forward and bite on his neck, pride stirring in your chest when your lover's self-control slips and he actually moans.

"You…" You hum at his low growl, lapping at the bitten place, knowing that the job to arise his hunger here is done.

"Yes?" With a cheeky grin you face him, closely watching his expression, loving the way his lips parted in silent pants.

"A wicked woman."

"Wicked? How rude and salacious calling a high priestess such names."

"Not her," a big scarred hand reaches forward and cups your cheek. So warm. "But the woman I married."

"Oh? So it's a good thing?" You lean happily in his hold, rubbing against wide palm. Pierro slowly lifts his upper body, steading yours on top of his with the hold on your hip, and takes the sitting position with you settled on his thighs. Hot breath brushes against your lips and you let your eyelids slide close.

"The best."

As he indulges you with a fervor-filled kiss, you reach between your bodies and graze just the tips of your fingers against his cock. Two sets of eyes fly open at the same time, but while he stares at you with yearning, your eyes crease in mischief. Simple caresses soon turn into your palm wrapping around his girth and slowly sliding up and down his semi-hard length. The bite you've granted him just moments ago does it work magnificently, turning him on the same way it was with you. Attempts to restrain his hips from jerking up to thrust into your hand don't go unnoticed by you and you tug on his cock roughly to elicit a groan out of him and bury your tongue in his mouth.

Palm which was resting on your cheek up to this moment abandons its place and drops to your other hip. Thumbs smooth over the night sky painted skin of your waist, soothingly rubbing. It makes you hum in content, caressing the cavern of his mouth languidly.

Palming and groping continues for a while, shift in pace obvious after the previous round (if you were to count by the times your lover came). His cock finally stands proudly against his toned stomach once again and you lift yourself with his help, lining the tip to your hole.

Pierro feels how his own semen drips down onto his length as you position your body the most comfortable way possible given the challenging stretch your thighs have to endure because of the wideness of his figure, including the hips. Pussy inevitably releases thick white substance, coating him and surely ruining the sheets even more.

Your walls show no resistance when he slides back home. How fascinating this part of your body is - molding to his shape quickly no matter how much time has passed since the last time. He knows he is big, he's made you drool and cry and mindless plenty of times in the past (he still can, but it takes more rounds and much rougher behavior), yet your pussy always takes him.

As if to prove the statement, you press a palm against your stomach and feel an outline of him, nestled deep inside your heat, a prominent bulge appearing whenever he shifts.

"I missed this…" You admit with a smile, rubbing up and down, absolutely enjoying the view of his greeted teeth, heavily rising and falling chest. “Mmm, I can feel you twitch inside…” Your teasing voice is so beautiful and the man can’t help it but lean forward and kiss the column of your throat.

“I missed this too…”

“Then let’s take the most we can from this night, shall we?”

As your lips meet in another kiss and hips start rocking again, Pierro silently agrees, secretly, just like every time, praying to no one in particular for the night to never be over.

taglist: @we-wo-we-wo, @secretartisanclodhairdo, @eiscoathanger

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #pierro x reader #pierro x fem!reader #jester x reader #pierro genshin #genshin impact smut #moonlit pearl stories #my longest fic so far

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training4theapocalypse · 1 year

Text

On Her Majesty’s Supersonic Service (Adrian Chase x Reader) Ch. 4

Chapter 4 No Time to Cry

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 9.9K

Warnings: SMUT (less than usual tho), Plot with a little bit of porn, Mostly fluff, Moving the plot along, Romance, Descriptions of murder, Descriptions of violence, Descriptions of injury, P in V, Praise, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: It’s time to kill the cow. Adebayo reveals two secrets. Adrian is being Adrian and having the best time mass-murdering butterflies.

A/N: IT'S EARLY!! This is mostly plot and I am obsessed with tying things into canon. There’s some pretty graphic injury description and some totally made-up medical bullshit that I hope you can get past. Thanks so much to @stealsteels for your encouragement to get me over the finish line.

Tagging because I think you might like it: @ladymacbeth1987 , @likeficsinthewnd

Masterlist

Chapter text:

The van is gone from the motel car park, and all signs of Peacemaker and Economos have gone with it.

“Go with the others. I’ll find Peacemaker.”

The sun still hasn’t risen but the orange glow of the streetlights is bright enough for Adrian to see you chewing your lip worriedly in the passenger seat of his car.

“Unless we hear different, stick to the plan. We’ll meet at the ranch.” His earnest green eyes meet yours. “I promise.”

You breathe deeply to calm your nerves. Usually, you’re exhilarated before a mission- ready to fight. But that was before you had something to lose.

“C’mon, it’ll be great! We’ll kill the cow, dish out the same ass-kicking as usual, and drive off into the sunset.”

You’re unconvinced.

“Like Thelma and Louise!”

Now you’re even less convinced. You pull out your phone and text him.

Blackbird: You know they kill themselves at the end of that movie, right? xx

His phone pings, and he reads your message. “What? No way!”

Blackbird: There’s a freeze frame as they drive their car into the Grand Canyon xx

“I don’t think so. I think their car took off and started flying away like at the end of Grease.”

You raise your eyebrows but don’t argue any further. Instead, you study every detail of his profile hungrily as he enthusiastically tells you how the movie’s ending can be perceived differently. His curly hair, still a little messy from spending the night in the sleeping bag, the dimples at the corners of his mouth when he smiles, the way he adjusts his wire rimmed glasses- you try to memorise it all.

You lean over to kiss him goodbye. You grip the chest plate of his suit, pulling him closer to you. You try and put a lot of meaning into the kiss- words left unspoken that you probably wouldn’t have the emotional capacity to vocalise even if you physically could. An assurance that you’ll meet later. A promise that you’ll both live long enough to see tomorrow.

You pull back before he does, preemptively avoiding the possibility of getting lost in the kiss. His face is lit up with excitement.

“We’re saving the world- it’s gonna be fun! Well, for me. I know this is, like, your day job.”

He points at a billboard across the street displaying an array of supercars- Evergreen Exotic Car Rentals. “And then that’ll be you and me tomorrow, cruising down the highway in a Corvette.”

You give him what you hope is an optimistic smile- even though your insides are squirming. Then, you climb out of his car and walk quickly towards your motel without looking back so you don’t have to watch his Sebring drive off into the dawn.

As you pass Adebayo’s room, you can distinctly hear the sound of her and Harcourt in a heated argument. Just what we need at 5 am on the day of the mission.

You knock on the door.

“Who is it?” comes Harcourt’s aggressive bark.

Slowly, you open the door and peer around the corner. Harcourt and Adebayo look relieved at your familiar face for a split second before turning on each other again.

“You were gonna lone-shooter the poor bastard?” Harcourt demands.

“He has a history of instability and conspiratorial beliefs. Couple that with violent outbursts- he was the best choice of the two options.”

Your eyes dart between the two of them. What the fuck is going on?

Harcourt sees your confusion. “Adebayo did it. She planted the diary in Peacemaker’s trailer.”

Adebayo?

“That’s why Peacemaker was chosen in the first place,” says Adebayo by way of explanation.

“And that’s it?” asks Harcourt. “Cut the shit and tell her who else was chosen expressly for this mission.”

No. Your stomach drops. Adrian was just a tag-along- he wasn’t even meant to be part of this team.

Adebayo tosses a book in your direction which you catch mid-air.

A black, leather-bound notebook with the UK Government coat of arms embossed on the front in silver.

Not Adrian.

Hands trembling, you open it up. There’s your name written on the inside cover in your handwriting.

You flick through, eyes skimming over pages upon pages of diary entries. Conspiracies about a secret society of aliens in America controlling Her Majesty’s Secret Service and how you’re going to eradicate them yourself. Paragraphs about how you’re not in control of your powers. All easily corroborated with dates and times of places you’ve been, emails you’ve sent and texts to your boss.

Your eyes sting as you read how they’ve described your loneliness since your accident. Some of it they got right. How much you hate having powers (even if they are useful), how you wish you could talk again and how, more than anything, all you want is someone to confide in. It seals the narrative of a very unwell, isolated woman who’d be desperate enough to commit mass murder.

They really did do the thing properly. You had always assumed MI6 had access to your messages, but you honestly have to applaud the handwriting expert- it’s uncanny.

But… Adebayo? You swallow the lump in your throat and look at her pleadingly. Tell me it isn’t true.

She shakes her head.

“You were the preferred choice. Win-win for MI6 and A.R.G.U.S. MI6 lets you take the blame for the murders; they stage an inquest into the actions of a single employee and get off lightly. Nobody needs to find out how close we came to being invaded by the butterflies. And in return, they get rid of a renegade agent.”

Get rid of? Wait… renegade? You look up and try to catch her eye. What does she mean by that?

“Waller, on the other hand…” Adebayo continues to look away uncomfortably. “Waller keeps A.R.G.U.S out of it completely and gets herself a new member of the Suicide Squad.”

This was never a mission to win the favour of MI6 again. You were their scapegoat. And to Amanda Waller - a new weapon.

You lower yourself onto Adebayo’s sofa in shock.

“They were your fucking friends.” Harcourt’s tone is the coldest you’ve ever heard her. “How did you choose? How could you possibly manage to choose which soldier to sell to Waller?”

“It wasn’t a choice- it could only be Peacemaker because Blackbird’s story didn’t make any fucking sense anymore!”

Adebayo looks between you, like it’s obvious.

“Everyone’s seen the way she’s been skipping around with Vigilante. Everyone in this team has seen you guys literallyscrewing around. The texts don’t match the diary anymore.” She looks at you sadly. “Before you met Vigilante, the last message you sent that wasn’t about work was over a month ago. And it was your fucking landlord!”

Before you can hide it, a single tear runs down your cheek as you stare at her in disbelief.

Of course. Now your messages are filled with flirting and two little x’s. And there’s fun and laughter in the 11th Street Kids group chat. No evidence that would hold up at an inquest.

Adrian… Adrian inadvertently stopped you from being thrown into jail with a nano bomb implanted in the base of your neck. And Harcourt made it all possible by adding you to that group.

Air. You need to leave.

You gesture to Harcourt, excusing yourself. Then, you open the door and are face-to-face with Murn.

“Guess what? Adebayo planted Peacemaker’s diary and had another ready for Blackbird to take the fall,” Harcourt calls over your shoulder.

“Only because my mother made me!”

What the…?

“Holy fuck! Your mother is Amanda Waller?”

“Yes, I figured her mother had her do it,” says Murn.

You give Murn a curt nod and blow past him, not waiting to hear the rest of the conversation. You can’t process this right now. You need to call your boss and have her tell you straight.

Your boss.

As you descend the motel stairs, it dawns on you that she hasn’t messaged you once since you landed in Washington. She doesn’t want the paper trail to show she knows you’re here.

What a cunt.

You let out a small groan of frustration, setting off a car alarm. You head around the back of the motel and video-call her. It rings out.

Blackbird: You were going to Suicide Squad me?!

The message is marked as read. She doesn’t respond.

Blackbird: Fuck you.

You grip your phone and consider throwing it against the wall but then-

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The unmistakable sound of gunshots coming from the motel startles you.

You pull your gun out and tiptoe back around the corner. Police cars- three of them. Silently you watch as half a dozen butterflies in police officers’ bodies exit Adebayo’s room.

Not good.

Your finger hovers over the trigger. You’re reasonably confident you could take them all on your own… but you heard three gunshots - you have no idea if Murn, Adebayo and Harcourt are even alive. As far as you know, you could be the last one left to take down the cow.

Then you see her. Detective Song. The queen who used to be Goff. The one who brutally tortured Adrian. Blinding rage vibrates through your very being as you leap out from your hiding spot and scream at the top of your lungs.

A sonic shockwave is sent across the car park- several butterflies are sent flying backwards. Song manages to sprint out of reach and yells for the others to cover her.

“You tried to cut off my boyfriend’s toe, you bitch!”

You’re going to torture her, you decide. And you’re going to enjoy it.

The shockwave sends debris flying across the car park, and you hear the sound of the windows on the ground floor of the motel shattering. The fear in Song’s eyes as she watches you walking towards them spurs you on. The atmosphere above shifts as you breathe in and let out another ear-splitting scream.

The heads of the three nearest butterflies explode into bloody pulps. Parked cars are blasted into the air and come down violently onto the concrete, narrowly missing the remaining butterflies.

Song turns and runs for her life. You’re quick on her heels but are thwarted when you need to duck and cover behind an overturned car as her associates start firing at you. The three of them run towards a police car in the distance, shooting over their shoulders.

Fuck.

You jump out from behind the car and chase after them, as fast as possible. But it’s too late. The engine of the police car starts, and rubber squeals on the road as they speed off into the distance.

“Oh my god, my car...” says Adebayo.

“And mine...” echoes Harcourt sounding shell-shocked.

They’re alive. You whip round to face them. They don’t look good- Adebayo has a gash on her forehead, Harcourt’s nose is bloody, and her face is streaked with tears.

“We heard you screaming but our hands were tied with Judomaster. And Murn…” She chokes and blinks up at the sky. “Murn’s dead.”

Your hand flies to your mouth, and you point at the motel room. Judomaster killed Murn?

“It was Goff. I mean, Song,” says Adebayo.

Harcourt takes a moment to compose herself and straighten her jacket. “We need to find the others. None of them are answering their phones. But what are we gonna do?” She looks at the overturned cars. “Get some Uber driver to go around aimlessly looking for them?”

The three of you look around the parking lot despairingly until your eyes fall on a billboard in the distance.

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

The road stretches out ahead as the three of you speed your way towards Peacemaker’s trailer- the guys still aren’t picking up, but you’ve got to start looking somewhere.

Your phone is connected to the Corvette’s sound system and you blast Stop by the Spice Girls through the speakers. This is the best thing you’ve ever used your MI6 expenses account for.

The car’s roof is down, and the wind whips your hair as you weave in and out between other cars on the road.

“Slow down! Some of us don’t have a seatbelt back here!”

Adebayo sits in the back hatch behind the two front seats. You’re perfectly happy for her to be uncomfortable, considering she conspired to have you thrown in jail. Maybe fearing for her life will do her some good.

Harcourt grabs your phone. “I’m gonna call Vigilante. Maybe he won’t ignore your calls.”

The ringing stops your music and comes through the speakers.

“Birdie?” comes Adrian’s voice. He’s still alive.

“She’s driving. Why haven’t you been answering my calls, asshole?” says Harcourt.

“Did somebody tell her we drive on the right here?”

Harcourt looks at you in exasperation.

“I hope for your sake he’s better at fucking than using his last two brain cells,” mutters Adebayo.

“Why haven’t any of you been picking up your phones? And where the hell are you?”

“Well, we’ve been kind of busy murdering Peacemaker’s dad, and now we’re on the way to the vet with Eagly. We should- ow!” You hear him wince in pain, and you look at Harcourt in alarm.

“Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, we just went over a speed bump.” Economos answers now. “Peacemaker is just going through some stuff with his dad, and Eagly’s injured. Vigilante was hit by a grenade-“

A what?! Harcourt notices your knuckles turning white as you grip the steering wheel.

“...Who threw the grenade?” Harcourt sighs pointedly.

There’s a pause at the other end.

“Vigilante-“

“It was intentional!” Adrian cuts across him. “And it was fucking badass- ow! Watch the speedbumps, Economos!”

“Listen, I’m dropping you the location of the vet. We’re almost there,” says Economos. Your phone pings and the satnav automatically updates.

“10-4,” says Harcourt, as you do a U-turn and speed off in the opposite direction.

“Y’know, we could have just got a four-seater like I suggested,” complains Adebayo when you arrive and open the back hatch. You begrudgingly help her climb out.

Harcourt marches ahead inside the vet,, and Adebayo seizes the opportunity to speak to you privately.

“Blackbird, I…” She chooses her words carefully. “I’m sorry. But I thought I was doing the right thing.”

You whip out your phone and start typing furiously. She watches your screen.

“Okay, okay! Stop with the expletives. And cut the bullshit! It’s fine if you want the others to think you’re the victim here, but I’ve read your file. I know what you’ve done.”

You raise your eyebrow, calling her bluff. Nobody knows. Not even MI6.

“You thought MI6 wouldn't find out that you were gonna double-cross them and sell that jet to a private buyer?”

You freeze. How…?

“And don’t even pretend you didn’t know who the buyer was.”

Now you’re perplexed. Clearly, Adebayo is too straight-laced to understand. So you shake your head and type a new message on your phone.

Blackbird: It’s always better not to know who the buyer is

She kisses her teeth in disapproval. “Wow… and I thought you worked in intelligence? Haven’t you figured out that the buyer was Goff? Who else would need something that big, fast and powerful? Something big enough to transport a giant cow?”

Bloody hell.

“You might be a traitor but lucky for us, you suck at stealing jets. The cow’s been stuck in that barn for over a year while they build their teleporter."

You’re not naive- you knew you weren’t selling a stolen jet to good guys. You thought terrorists or maybe the KGB or, like, Elon Musk. Not a race of aliens trying to take over planet Earth. She watches the regretful realisation dawn on your face.

“Look, B bird, a lot of what they said about you and Peacemaker in those files is true, and when I read them, I thought you both deserved to be in jail… but I think Peacemaker’s changed. And I think there’s a lot of good stuff about you they left out.”

She smiles at you tentatively.

“I actually believe you didn’t know you were stealing that jet for Goff. If we make it out alive, I promise I’ll make it right.”

Honestly, you don’t blame her- you’re sure that your file paints a grim picture. And to top it off, your previous actions would have fucked up the entire mission if you’d been successful.

You extend your hand to shake hers. Adebayo grips it and looks at you with mutual understanding.

“We good?”

You nod.

The sound of a fist pounding on glass makes you both whip around.

Adrian is banging on the window from inside the veterinarian’s office with a goofy grin on his face. He points at the car, and you smile and jingle the keys at him in response.

“Fuck yeah!” You see his lips moving from behind the glass. He turns back around, and you can see he’s pointing an assault rifle at something inside. Shit.

“Thank God you guys are here. Dr Hurwitz kindly stitched up Eagly, and Vigilante's being a total freak,” says Economos when you and Adebayo burst in.

Adrian is pointing a gun at three people in scrubs. There’s a streak of blood down his face, and his suit is badly damaged from the explosion. It gives him an entirely unhinged appearance.

“Dude, they saw us. Peacemaker and I are wanted.” Adrian turns to look at you. “Blackbird’s not wearing her mask, and MI6 will probably fire her if civilians see her.”

You rush over to Adrian and the vet staff and put a finger to your lips urgently. Stop talking!

“Well, now they know someone called Blackbird from MI6 was here,” Economos sighs.

“Oh, great! Thanks, Economos- now we definitely have to kill them,” says Adrian aiming his gun around you.

“Do we really have to kill these people?” pleads Economos.

Everyone looks at Harcourt. She groans.

“...No. We'll tie them up, and by the time the morning staff comes in, we'll be long gone.”

“They've seen our faces,” says Adrian, still aiming.

“If we can't stop the butterflies today, it won't matter,” she says with finality.

“Okay. But we can't use duct tape. That'll hurt their skin when they try to pull it off. Right Birdie?”

You touch your almost healed lip but then blush deeply when you realise everyone is staring at you. Thanks, Adrian.

“So, you're compassionate about tape but not brutally murdering people?” asks Economos

“...Yes.”

He lowers the gun and grins at you. God, as you come closer, you realise the full extent of his injuries from the grenade blast. Your eyes linger on his suit- the hard exterior chest plate is scratched pretty severely, and his suit has ripped in places, revealing burned bloody tissue across his abdomen and thighs.

You try to get a better look at the damage, but he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into a hug. He winces in pain. You try to pull back but he just hugs you tighter.

“Worth it,” he groans and kisses the top of your head.

You pat the countertop, gesturing for him to sit on it, and grab some cotton pads and antiseptic. When you dab the wet cotton pad on the burned skin on his abdomen, the muscles there twitch involuntarily.

He stifles a moan of pain and it makes you stop what you’re doing to look up at his face. This only causes you to blush again. What’s wrong with me? You bite your lip and try to concentrate on cleaning the debris from his cuts and burns.

“Hey,” he whispers so only you can hear him. “Are you turned on right now?”

You try to give him a defensive look but it falters when you see the longing in his eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

We need to make sure you're okay first. You tilt your head sympathetically. His wounds will probably need further attention later so this’ll have to do for now.

When you’re done, you hop up on the counter beside him and type on your phone, letting him read over your shoulder.

Blackbird: It WAS kind of romantic that you were gonna kill those vets for me xx

“Romantic?...Really? You’re more twisted than I thought.” His gloved hand tucks your hair behind your ear. “I can still kill them for you if you want?”

The vets overhear this and look at each other in alarm. You shake your head.

“Hey, what do you say we find an empty exam room and we-“

“Hey, we should get a move on killing this cow,” Adebayo cuts him off as she and Peacemaker return to the room.

“Okay, how do we do this without Murn?” asks Economos.

You all automatically turn to Harcourt. Adrian nods his head towards her in encouragement. She takes a deep breath and dives into an explanation of the plan to get to the barn to kill the cow before the teleportation device is ready.

“…Hopefully, we can make it in there before they make their move,” she finishes.

“I’m in,” says Peacemaker

“Hashtag me too,” says Adrian

You nod fervently

“I guess,” says Economos

“Yeah,” adds Adebayo

“Fuck yeah!” says the vet, and one of the nurses cocks a rifle.

“No, I think you need to calm down,” Peacemaker replies. “You’d just die.”

“But we are gonna need to sequester your vehicle out there because somebody rented a sports car with only two seats.” Adebayo looks at you.

“Me and B call the Corvette!” says Adrian as he hops off the counter.

“Fine. But keep up. We’re in a hurry.” Harcourt looks at you directly. “No screwing around.”

As you’re in the middle of typing, ‘We’re not teenagers - we can keep our hands to ourselves’, Adrian blurts “Well, it’s on your conscience that I might die today without ever having sex in a Corvette.”

You delete the message and put your phone away resignedly, rolling your eyes at Adrian.

“Gross dude, that’s a rental,” says Economos as you file out of the veterinarian’s surgery and into the van.

“Surprisingly nice people considering,” says the vet.

“Expect the guy in blue and his girlfriend,” adds one of the nurses.

“Yeah… they’re both a fucking mess.”

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

A few hours later, after an unsuccessful attempt to get Eagly to drop Peacemaker’s sonic boom helmet onto the roof of the barn, you all watch from the bushes in the dark night as Economos goes undercover to place the helmet inside. He’s the only one who Goff wouldn’t recognise.

“Blackbird, when did Goff see you?” asks Peacemaker, confused.

“You should have seen her this morning when she sonic-screamed the butterflies at the hotel. She nearly got Goff,” laughs Adebayo. “You cut off my boyfriend’s toe, you bitch!”

“Boyfriend? I thought you guys just hooked up!” He turns to Adrian. “I thought you were supposed to share these things with your BFF!”

Pretending to fix your holster, you try hard to avert Adrian’s gaze. You haven’t seen any point in labelling your situationship. But he doesn’t seem phased.

“You tried to kill Goff for me?” Your eyes meet Adrian’s from behind his red visor. “Woah, you were right- that isromantic!”

Just when Economos seems to be in the clear, you hear one of the butterflies on the walkie-talkie yell. There’s sudden chaos outside the barn.

Oh shit.

You watch as the butterflies swarm him. Adebayo fumbles with her walkie-talkie.

“Activate sonic boom!”

You hear the first explosion, and the barn starts tumbling down. The butterflies leave Economos and start running towards the barn.

“Activate sonic boom,” she says again. Another sonic wave decimates the barn- the blast radius sends dozens of butterflies flying back.

There’s one more blast as Adebayo triggers the sonic boom again, and you wait, but the barn doesn’t crash into the depths below, where you know the cow is hidden.

“Yep, that's it for the charges.” Peacemaker pulls on his other helmet.

“We need you to stay here, Ads. If something happens to us, you're the only hope,” says Harcourt.

“The fuck am I?” mutters Economos, offended.

“What's the plan, man?” Adrian asks.

“We’re gonna get into the barn-” Peacemaker gestures to himself and you “- Blackbird’s gonna scream at the cow, then we’re gonna try and find a way out.”

“That’s suicide,” says Adebayo

You type a message on your phone and show Adrian, who reads it out loud.

“She says she and Peacemaker will probably end up in the Suicide Squad anyway. They’ll do it,” he says, mildly confused.

You and Peacemaker exchange meaningful looks.

“Let's go kill a cow,” he says.

You, Peacemaker, Harcourt and Adrian hop over the fence and start running towards the barn.

The atmosphere cracks as you inhale deeply and scream. It bursts the heads of a small group of butterflies running at you.

The four of you start firing, and it draws the attention of even more butterflies towards you.

Adrian laughs as he unleashes a massacre on your opponents. He’s in his element. Sometimes he’s such a goofball you forget how fucking good he is in combat.

“On your right, Birdie!” Shit. You take cover from the bullets behind a haystack.

Adrian brings out a machete and cuts down foe after foe. A group of butterflies round on him, and you leap over the haystack and yell, sending them flying back from him He gives you a quick nod before stomping on a butterfly crawling out of one of their heads.

“Blackbird, Chris- go! We’ll hold them off here!” yells Harcourt.

You and Peacemaker make a break for it.

“Fuck, yeah!” You hear Adrian shout behind you- he’s genuinely having fun wielding a machete in one hand and a handgun in the other.

As you reach the barn stairs, one of the butterflies almost catches Peacemaker. Adrian plants the machete directly in his skull.

“Don’t fuck with my BFF!” yells Adrian as Peacemaker jumps down the staircase as fast as he can.

Suddenly a hand covers your mouth, and your eyes bulge as you realise a butterfly is attacking you from behind. Not again, fucker. You elbow them in the ribs and struggle until the cool metal of a gun barrel pressed against your temple makes you freeze.

“Stop fucking squirming.”

The words make Adrian whip around. You’re about to wave at him, to tell him not to do anything rash, but his reflexes are too quick. Before either you or the butterfly realise what he’s doing, he shoots the butterfly in the head. A warm blood splatter hits your body, and you feel the thud of him dropping to the floor behind you.

“The only person who says that shit to my girlfriend is me.”

You check there’s no butterfly crawling out of the dead body behind you, and as you turn back around to smile at Adrian, you see it- a tiny gleam of silver flying towards you.

Instinctively you whip your hand up to block it. A gasp of pain and shock escapes you, as you see a steel throwing knife protruding through your extended palm.

Another gleam of sliver. Sudden pain. You choke. Your other hand comes up to touch your throat. Dazed, you feel a knife stuck deep in your neck.

“Fuck!” Adrian turns around and shoots the butterfly before they can throw a third knife.

The ground seems to come up from nowhere to hit your side. You gasp, trying to stem the bleeding from your neck with your left hand. The smell of grass and the blood pooling out in front of you makes you feel faint.

There’s the distinct sound of a bullet finding a soft target, then a thud as Adrian drops to his knees beside you. Momentarily distracted by your injuries, he was shot in the back. He falls flat on his front, masked face turned towards you.

You cough more blood. The pain searing through your neck is almost beyond endurance. Adrian fades in and out of focus.

“Birdie,” he groans. “Stay awake… We’re still gonna… drive off into the sunset.” He lifts himself onto his elbows to crawl towards you.

Every breath of air you take hurts- each tiny inhale slightly moves the knife in your neck.

You feel Adrian’s fingers remove your left hand, so he can put pressure on the wound. Even now, you feel comforted by his touch.

Hazily, you think that you’re glad to be dying knowing what it feels like to be loved.

There’s another strange cold sensation in your neck- a rush of air. But before you have time to wonder what’s happening, everything fades to black.

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

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

You open your eyes blearily- it’s bright. Daylight. Your throat is raw. You’re in pain. But wait… you can feel pain- that’s a good sign, right? The smell of antiseptic is suffocating.

Looking down at yourself, your eyes try to focus on your heavily bandaged right hand. Your hands fly up to your throat, and you feel more bandages around your neck. There’s a pulse monitor attached to your finger.

“Hey, it’s me. You’re okay.” It’s Adebayo’s voice. As your vision becomes clearer, you see she looks different, as she sits beside you on a blue plastic chair. She’s wearing a white shirt, vest and a blazer. Sort of like she’s dressed for a funeral.

A funeral.

Where’s Adrian? You sit up and take in the rest of the bland room. You need your phone. Where’s my phone? So many questions fly through your mind.

“Hey, hey, hey- sit back down. Adrian’s alive.” You sigh in relief and lie back. “Everyone’s alive. We did it. We killed the cow.”

She tosses you your phone.

“Adrian’s in surgery. The bullet didn’t go too deep, but they need to get the fragments out. He’ll be out soon.”

Blackbird: And the others? x

Her phone pings as your message arrives. She reads it.

“Let’s see… Harcourt was shot right after Adrian- she’s in a coma, but she’ll survive. Chris is fine- he’s waiting with her in case she wakes up. Economos broke his leg. I was human-torpedoed through the cow and didn’t even sprain my neck.” she grins.

Blackbird: I don’t understand how I’m still alive x

“It was Adrian he-”

“Good, you’re awake.” Adebayo is interrupted by a doctor coming into the room. She introduces herself and picks up the chart at the end of your bed.

“The wound to your neck was deep… fortunately, it didn’t hit your spine. Patients with this kind of injury usually die from blood loss. But your boyfriend extracted the knife and stopped blood flow with duct tape.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Removing a knife from a wound like that is normally very dangerous. But on this occasion, it saved your life.”

Adrian’s impulsivity has somehow paid off.

“Your throat, however-” she hesitates “-we had to do an endoscopy to check for trauma to the larynx, and we’d never seen anything like it. There were strange lesions all along the membrane of your vocal cords.”

You nod, absently fidgeting with the bandages on your injured hand. This is old news.

“We were able to remove the majority of them.” Your eyes dart up to meet hers. “But there are a few tiny ones left that were so embedded they couldn’t be removed without damaging the healthy tissue.”

Her words fly over your head as you and Adebayo exchange glances, clearly thinking the same thing.

“Your powers…” whispers Adebayo. Your heart thumps in your chest. You refuse to let yourself believe what you think might be happening. “Can she use her voice?” she addresses the doctor.

“Sure,” the doctor replies indifferently as she puts the chart back. “Just try not to speak too much or too loudly over the next few days. Otherwise, you’re good to be discharged.”

“I mean her superpowers. Her supersonic scream?”

“Her what?”

You’re unsurprised by her scepticism; this is classified information and unlikely to be on your medical records.

“Uh, never mind. Thank you,” says Adebayo as the doctor leaves the room. She turns back to face you. “...Can you?”

The last thing you want to do is cause an accident. You shake your head.

“C’mon- try and break that old-ass TV.” She jerks her head over her shoulder.

You concentrate and let out a small hum. It hurts. But nothing happens.

“Break,” you whisper- still nothing. Your throat is too raw to try yelling.

“It’s okay, B bird.” Adebayo notices tears forming in your eyes and moves over to sit on the edge of the hospital bed. She touches your shoulder, and the tears spill down your face.

“Happy tears.” Your voice is hoarse and incredibly sore. “There’s no way they’ll want me for the Suicide Squad now.”

She beams at you. “About that… I’m on my way to a press conference exposing Project Butterfly. Nobody’s joining the Suicide Squad. I made a deal with MI6 behind my mom’s back-”

“Bad idea-”

“Well, after this, I’m basically untouchable. I told MI6 I’d keep their name out of the press conference if they fired you. They still keep their hands clean, and if you check your email, you should be getting a pretty sweet severance package on Monday.”

“Kind of sounds like blackmail,” you whisper as you pull up your emails on your phone.

From: HM Government Secret Intelligence Service MI6

Subject: Agent Blackbird - Notification of redundancy

“Eh, I call it negotiation.”

“Thank you, Ads,” you say softly but sincerely.

She gets up from your bed and goes to leave but pauses at the door and laughs.

“What is it?”

“Adrian told the doctors he wanted to see you before his surgery. He was asking- asking for-“

She snorts and has to stop speaking. She begins laughing so hard that she’s struggling to breathe.

“What is it?” you ask hoarsely, waiting for the punchline.

She composes herself, “He was asking for someone called Blackbird. He said it was one name. Like Cher.” She cracks up again.

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh. It’s kind of sweet, but Christ…

“Did you even tell him your real name?”

You shake your head, and the ridiculousness of the situation hits you both simultaneously, and you can't help but burst out laughing. Adebayo doubles over, clutching her stomach, and you dab tears of laughter from your eyes with the hospital bedsheet.

“It never- “ you choke with laughter “- it never came up.”

You both collapse into hysterics. Ouch. Your good hand runs over the bandages on your neck.

“Damn, and I thought Adrian took his secret identity seriously.”

God, poor Adrian. You make a mental note to give him your real name when he wakes up from surgery.

“Hey, I almost forgot.” She tosses you a set of car keys which you catch with your uninjured left hand. “Think you have a few days before you need to return this.”

Once you’re dressed and discharged, you go to the car park for fresh air while you wait for Adrian to wake up from the effects of anaesthesia.

Blackbird: I’m alive. Text me when you’re awake xx

You find the Corvette and sit in it with the top down, the sun on your face. You listen to the radio and hum along gently. It’s raw on your throat, but the vibrations of the tune seem to come from your very soul. It feels… good.

Your phone pings twenty minutes later.

Vigilante: DUDE are you watching the news? xx

You flick through the radio channels on the car's sound system until you hear Adebayo’s voice.

“Peacemaker never wrote any diary. He was part of a team working in a deep-cover operation for the U.S. Government called "Project Butterfly."

Blackbird: She’s actually doing it… xx

“This is all part of a black-ops program known as ‘Task Force X’, where convicted criminals are undertaking dangerous missions in exchange for time off their sentences. It's been running for years, under the command of a woman named Amanda Waller…”

Vigilante: Which room are you in? xx

“Who happens to be my mother. Now, I'm calling for an immediate investigation into these inhumane conditions-“

You turn off the radio and breathe a sigh of relief. No mention of MI6, as promised.

Blackbird: I’m outside in the Corvette- I’ll come back upstairs now xx

You look over at the hospital and clap your hands over your mouth when a man in a gown jumps out of a window on the second story. He lands inelegantly in a flower bed and gets up.

It’s Adrian.

Of course, it’s Adrian.

He waves as he jogs towards you and hoists himself into the open-topped car without opening the door.

He twists his whole body to face you, clasps your face with both hands and kisses you passionately. It happens so quickly that it takes your brain a second to catch up.

He’s alive. We’re alive.

You return his embrace, and your hands wander down his back, trailing along the bare skin not covered by his hospital gown, resting on his waist where you feel the bandage wrap around his back.

Just feeling his warm skin beneath the medical coverings sends a wave of gratitude through you. Your heart races as Adrian kisses you deeply and tangles his fingers in your hair like he’s trying to feel every different texture of you. You’ve missed him so much, and the relief of being back in his arms is almost overwhelming.

You never want this moment to end.

He presses his forehead against yours. “God, I’m so happy you’re okay,” he murmurs “I thought. Fuck… I don’t wanna say what I thought.”

You know. You thought it too when you heard him collapse next to you in the field.

“I can’t believe you jumped out a window just after having surgery,” you whisper.

“I’m fine. I just-” He pulls back in surprise. “Wait…what the fuck!?”

“They removed some growths on my vocal cords,” you say, your hoarse voice barely audible.

Stupidly, you feel tears coming on, remembering your first FaceTime conversation.

‘Birdie, I fell for you the first time I saw you burst someone’s head open with your sonic scream.’

“I… I don’t think I have powers anymore.”

God, the lump in your ragged throat sears in pain. He gives you a concerned look. You don’t know how else to phrase what you’re about to say next, so you blurt it out.

“Do you still like me?”

You stare at him determinedly, refusing to let yourself cry.

He laughs. A loud, maniacal laugh that goes on way too long. You scowl.

“That’s hilarious, Birdie. I love this back and forth we get to have now you can speak.”

“Adrian, I’m serious,” you say sternly, but you think your heart might burst with joy. “I'm not the same person anymore. And I know you… I know you liked that I had powers.” You emphasise the word ‘like’ - you both know you mean ‘turned on’.

“Oh no,” he says mockingly. “I’m so sad that my girlfriend is going to moan all over my dick and scream my name.”

Even after all you’ve been through, your stomach twists in excitement when you hear him say girlfriend again.

“That… that was actually really good sarcasm, Adrian.”

“Uh, yeah, I learned from the best. The most sarcastic, second-best marksman in the team.”

“I’ll be the best marksman again soon. I was getting lazy when I had my powers.” You stretch your injured hand.

“Well…” He tries to sound upbeat. “We could squeeze in some more target practice before you go?”

“That can wait til we’re both healed…I have a bit more time than I thought.”

“How long?”

“MI6 has basically fired me. So I suppose until I find a new job.”

Grabbing your uninjured hand, he turns to look you in the eyes.

“Stay,” he says simply.

“Adrian, I…” you hesitate.

What’s waiting for you back home? Conversations with nobody except your landlord?

“Birdie, this feels right. Me and you. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop it.”

“Adrian, you hardly know me… If you knew half of the things I’ve done… I mean, Adebayo read my file and wanted to send me to Belle Reve.”

“Oh, come on! I was in jail like last week.”

You chew your lip.

“Don’t go back to London. Not yet, anyway. Crash at my place… or if you decide you never want to leave, that’s cool too.”

You grip the wheel as excitement courses through your veins. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He looks at you like he doesn’t quite believe you. “Wait… really?”

“Were you not serious?” You raise an eyebrow.

“No, I was! I just thought you’d take more convincing.”

“I’m never getting rid of you, Adrian. Just like you said, remember?”

He lunges forward again and kisses you again with unbridled enthusiasm. His glasses push against your face. Butterflies - the good kind, not the alien kind- flutter in your stomach. You’ve fallen for him. Adrian. Vigilante. All of him.

You unbuckle your seatbelt. “Can you drive a manual?”

“What?!”

“A… a stick shift?”

“I know what it is. I just can’t believe you don’t think I can drive one.”

You hop out of the car and round to the passenger side. “You can drive us to your flat then.”

“You sure?” He launches himself into the drivers seat and turns on the engine, not waiting for your reply.

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

The first few days, you hadn’t had the strength to do much more than just lie in Adrian’s bed. You ordered food. Watched TV. Changed each other’s bandages. You’re grateful to have been able to rest during the day because your sleep has been interrupted by vivid nightmares.

Tonight, you wake up in another fit of sweat, hand clutching your neck. You dreamt that a butterfly had snuck up on you again from behind. Adrian wasn’t there to save you. And so they opened your throat with a silver throwing knife.

“Birdie?” Adrian says blearily, as he wakes up, and his eyes make out your hunched-over silhouette in the dark. He finds his glasses on the bedside table. “Did you have a nightmare again?”

You nod, heart still pounding in your chest.

“You can use your voice,” he reminds you again gently. Sometimes you forget you can talk after spending so long suppressing it. “Same as last time?”

“Same as last time,” you echo.

The light-up display on his alarm clock shows that it’s two o’clock in the morning. Adrenaline from your night terror pumps through you. You’re wide awake.

“We’ll work on disarming someone from behind as soon as you’re feeling better,” he says in an effort to reassure you.

Adrian stretches his arm out, giving you the perfect space on his chest to nestle into. You lie back down on his burgundy sheets and breathe deeply as you rest your head on him. He smells so good. Like home. Your shoulders become less tense, and your heart rate starts coming back down as you relax into his warm embrace.

“Can you put on a film for us to fall asleep to? Preferably something long and boring.”

“Have you ever seen Titanic? It’s like 3 hours long.”

Before you know it, you’re both engrossed and eating popcorn in bed.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” he says, absent-mindedly stroking your hair.

“I never understood the point. I mean, we already know what happens at the end.”

You both sit quietly as Jack and Rose kiss passionately in the back seat of an old car.

You roll your eyes. “We need more popcorn.” You get up from his bed and walk down the hall into the kitchen.

“I can skip this scene if it’s getting you too worked up?” He grins as he calls after you.

You hold up a middle finger behind you as you walk away. “Shut up.”

“Aha! You’re being a big meanie, which means you’re horny.”

You scoff and call back towards the bedroom. “It does not! I’m rude to you all the time.”

“You’re giving me the same look you gave me the first time we had sex. Like you’re so annoyed with me that you want to shut me up by kissing me.”

“I am not. I just find it boring watching people pretend to have sex.” Especially when we’re supposed to be taking it easy right now.

“Fine. I’ll find something else to watch.”

You run back to the bed and grab the remote control before he can. “No! I want to know how this ends!”

“I thought you knew how it ended?”

“And I thought you said it was boring!”

“Sit back down and watch it with me then if you’re so interested,” he challenges.

You forget about making more popcorn and sit beside him on the bed defiantly - much more upright than before. Both of you remain silent, eyes fixed on the TV. You watch as they grope each other in the back seat of the car. You clench your jaw, trying to ignore the heat between your legs. You discreetly push your thighs together, but the seam of his borrowed boxers that you’re wearing to bed rubs up against you dangerously.

“Stop looking at me, Adrian. I’m fine,” you say, feeling his gaze linger on you from the corner of your eye.

He moves closer to you. “I don’t think you are.”

“Ugh, please. Do you honestly think I’m horny for softcore nineties romance?” You keep your eyes fixed ahead, trying to look disinterested.

“I know what you look like when you’re turned on.”

“You’re projecting. But if you can’t wait a few more days and need to take care of yourself, then...”

“Yeah? Maybe I will. I’ll even let you watch.”

“Oh my god, Adrian,” you scoff, trying to ignore the hot, sticky feeling in your underwear. “If I need to wait, then so do you.”

“I don’t think you can, B.”

“I can wait longer than you.”

“Well, you don’t have to look at you all day. And you’re always wearing my stuff - it’s killing me!”

“Yeah, well, I have to look at you all day too.” You turned to face him. “You and your stupidly pretty face and your fucking abs. I mean, Christ, who actually has abs?”

He looks pleasantly surprised that you’re finding it difficult to be around him.

“Now I know you’re all riled up because even your compliments are super aggressive.”

You cross your arms. “We’re supposed to be resting.”

On-screen, Rose presses her hand against the car’s fogged-up glass, and you close your eyes involuntarily.

Your weight on the mattress shifts suddenly as Adrian leans in, and his lips meet that sensitive spot a few centimetres behind your earlobe, making you softly sigh. You tilt your head, exposing more of your neck to him, your body leaning into his mouth on you. He plants kisses across your sensitive skin, avoiding your fresh scar.

“Adrian…” you say warningly but it falls on deaf ears as you feel his warm tongue trail over your neck. His hand cups your pussy through the fabric of the boxers, and your body responds automatically, hips tilting towards him.

“You might be able to use your words now, but I can still read your body language like a book.” His firm hand squeezes and puts pressure between your legs. “I think you’re done waiting.”

Of course, you are. It’s been torture being stuck in this apartment with him for days. You want to fuck him, obviously. But more than that, you want to please him, thank him for saving your life yet again, and show him how much he means to you with your body. To fulfil his every desire and fantasy-

Fantasy.

You sit upright suddenly.

“Oh.” He withdraws his hand, surprised. “Is everything okay, B? I was just teasing, sorry, we can just-”

“I don’t believe the window would steam up like that if you had sex in a car.” You cut across him and walk over to the bedroom door. You turn back with a smirk. “Would you like to find out if it does?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

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

You don’t even make it out of his apartment complex’s underground car park.

Adrian sits in the driver’s seat of the Corvette with you straddling him. In a state of semi-undress, you’ve ended up in just his t-shirt that you were sleeping in- everything else you were wearing lies forgotten on the passenger seat beside you.

His hands grip your hips as you grind yourself on him, rubbing your wet pussy along the length of his shaft. Your thighs are soaked. The friction feels so, so good, and your chest heaves as you feel his hips rocking, desperate to be inside you.

His hands leave your sides and lift your shirt up. “You are so fucking hot.” His tongue swirls over your nipples sloppily, and you grab the back of his head, pushing his face into your chest. He lets out a muffled moan with pleasure.

You help him pull his T-shirt off and toss it in the seat next to you. You drag your hands down his lean chest, avoiding the newly healed scars from the grenade blast a few days ago.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he says, watching your flushed face as you grind back and forwards in the constricted space of the Corvette, feeling the sensation of his hard cock against your clit.

The space in the car is limited- his legs take up most of the room on the seat. You lean back in the tight space between him and the steering wheel to give him a better view and feel the cold wheel against your shoulder blades.

“Hey, careful you don’t lean on the horn.” He steadies you with one hand on your lower back, and gripping his cock with the other. You lick your palm and move his hand away, replacing it with your own. His thick cock is warm as you grip the shaft and move your hand up and down.

“Fuck, how are you so soft?” His hips jerk upwards into your clenched fist. “We have the same fucking job.”

He loves the softness of you as much as you love the sculpted, sharp edges of him. Your grip of him falters when his hand moves between your legs, fingers sliding through your folds, making direct contact with your clit. His fingers are broader and rougher than yours, and a small whine escapes your lips when he begins rubbing circles onto the bundle of nerves there.

Your fist keeps pumping up and down the length of him, and you feel pleasure begin to wash over you as his fingers deftly tease your pussy. He traces the entrance of your wet cunt, and your walls clench desperately over nothing.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

You eagerly adjust your hips over his, and position the head of his cock so it’s pressing up against your lips. He grips both of his hands under your thighs and stops you from lowering yourself onto him.

“Use your words.”

Oh.

“I… I want you to fuck me. Please,” you whisper. For some reason, it makes you shy. You’re out of practice when it comes to dirty talk.

“That’s my girl.”

Adrian’s green eyes meet yours, and it makes your skin feel red hot. His hands return to your hips, helping you down slowly, and you feel the familiar pressure as his length disappears into you.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, leaning his head back. You get a glimpse of his Adam's apple moving up and down as he swallows.

You pause at the base, getting used to the intrusion. Rocking your hips slowly, the sensation forces you to take a sharp inhale of breath- even though your pussy is sopping wet for him, you still need time to adjust to how thick he is.

“C’mon, nice and easy. You’ve got this.”

His praise spurs you on. You grip the headrest, giving yourself leverage to ride him.

You lean in and suck on his bottom lip, realising that this is the first time you’ve ever been able to kiss him while his cock has been inside you. You allow yourself a soft moan into his mouth. It feels alien to be able to express yourself like this while sliding up and down on him.

The realisation seems to hit him too when he hears you moaning. It makes him hungry for you- his tongue enters your mouth and rolls over your own.

He bucks his hips, and his hands move to your ass so he can control the pace of your movement on his cock. The obscenely slick sound of his achingly hard cock driving in and out of you is only amplified in the constricted space. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, tasting the slightly salty sweat of his skin on your tongue.

“Fuck, you’re taking it like such a good girl,” he says through gritted teeth.

A searing heat ebbs through you, and you feel it creep up to your neck at his words. His words. You remind yourself you don’t have to stay silent either.

“Your cock feels so good,” you say, lips moving to press against his ear. You hear Adrian’s breath hitch in his throat.

You pull apart so he can watch your still-exposed tits bounce as he guides you up and down, fucking you open. The swell inside you begins as you watch his brow furrow in concentration, looking from your tits to the desperate look on your face as you grapple the headrest behind him helplessly.

“Is this what you needed, baby?”

You nod, feeling the heat in your lower abdomen tighten.

“C’mon, say it,” he instructs.

You hear the wet sounds of your pussy and thighs slapping into him. You’re on the brink as he rocks up into something heavenly inside of you, hitting your g-spot. It feels so good- you can’t stop yourself from babbling what comes out next.

“Yes… Needed you. Wanted to - to make you feel so good. For saving me. Again.”

He pushes down on your hips, fucking you with newfound ferocity, and continues hitting that one spot that makes your whole body sing for him. Your fingers move to grip his shoulders, and you lock eyes with him.

“Fuck, tell me… Tell me,” he says urgently.

“Always- fuck- always fucking saving my ass... My fucking hero.”

You clench around him, holding on for dear life as he quickens his pace, working you higher and higher. Your ass slaps against the front of his thighs, faster and faster in rhythm with your panting.

“Don’t- I’m gonna cum if you say that,” he warns.

“That you’re my hero?” you whisper, staring into his eyes, his pupils dilated and swimming with lust. He leans his head back and groans in response. “You are, Adrian. My- my hero. My Vigilante.”

You suck the skin of his neck, squeezing your eyes shut, squeezing everything below your waist as you tumble into sheer ecstasy. You bear down on him as he jerks his hips up, fucking into you like a starved man. The force of his thrusts makes you bounce so hard that you need to lift your arm to stop yourself from hitting your head on the roof of the car.

“Shit,” he gasps. “You can’t say that. I’m gonna cum- oh, fuck I am. I’m cumming. Fuuuck.”

His rambling doesn’t even register clearly in your head- you’re too busy burying your face into his neck again, and with a muffled moan, you cum with him- hard. Your teeth graze his neck, and your walls contract around his cock, as you feel him coat your insides.

You slump into him, your dead weight on top of him. Every inch of your sweat soaked body in contact with his. He wraps his arms around you as you both catch your breath, endorphins lighting up your insides like fireworks. You nuzzle into his neck as his cock still pulses inside you, and cum leaks out of your pussy.

The windows of the Corvette are, in fact, steamed up. His glasses are too. You both silently enjoy the post-orgasmic bliss for several moments. From this position, his heart is pressed against yours, and you can feel them both beating loudly against your ribcages as you begin to resume normal breathing.

“So that was like…That was like my kryptonite,” he says, breaking the silence.

“Being called a hero?” you ask hoarsely. Your throat feels scratchy again.

“Yeah…” And for the first time ever, you think, he sounds embarrassed. “I guess it’s something I always wanted to hear.”

“You’ve saved my life at least three times in the past month.” You trace your fingers across his chest. “And you literally saved the world from an alien invasion five days ago.”

He cups your face, and you lean into his hand, kissing his palm softly.

“Do you think we’re the good guys?”

You hesitate. “I don’t think it matters. We’re good enough for each other.”

“But what about, like, Superman?”

“You don’t wanna be a hero like Superman.”

“What?! Why not?”

“He’s an idiot. Peacemaker told me that Wonderwoman says he can’t find the clit.”

“Well… at least I can do that.” He pauses. “Wait, I can, right?”

“Are you serious?”

“No, I'm totally joking… I think.”

“You can.”

“Thank god.”

You laugh and clamber off of him into the passenger seat.

“He didn’t even offer to fly you and Harcourt to the hospital either,” he adds in disbelief.

“Superman? When was this?”

“Right, I forgot to tell you that Adebayo’s mom did send the Justice League to the barn after all! They turned up super late. The cow was already dead.”

You laugh. Ouch, your throat feels raw. You lean back and massage your neck, swallowing thickly.

“Is your voice sore from using it too much?

You nod.

“Well, we probably should be resting.”

You give him a stern look, and he grins.

“There it is! You’ve still got it!” He pulls his jeans and boxers back up and switches on the engine. “Do you wanna go and get ice cream for your throat?”

That does sound good, you think and hastily pull your clothes on. When you’re both decent, he puts the car in first gear, and it starts moving.

“Ooh, okay, I’m gonna guess your favourite flavour, and you tap the dash one for yes and twice for no.”

You smile at him fondly, secretly pleased that he’s finally mastered the art of yes-or-no questions.

Chapter 5: From Gotham with Love

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