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shadyteacup · 3 years

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Daggers and Swords

Royal AU fem! Reader x assassin!fem!Chuuya

Side characters: Butler, Aiden(youngest brother), Samanda(Sister)

Inspired by the amazing @kiyokoxd and @bsdparadise !♡

You strode over to your room, closing the door and sliding down to the ground. It had been a tiring day, today, and all you wanted was to rip your tiara off and chuck it out the window. This bloody royalty shit was too much for you to handle. So what if you had "pure royal blood"? If you didn't want to marry that jerk of a prince, then you won't! And you had little to no interest in being the queen. The people of this kingdom can go to hell. You didn't give a shit.

Sighing, you got up, deciding that changing out of these tight clothes was the best course of action. It was already night time, and you couldn't bear being in this flowy gown anymore.

You rummaged around in your gigantic wardrobe, searching for a simple black gown. It wasn't a nightgown, but in fact a less shimmery, and more matte, casual tea-dress. You still had to attend a meeting with your siblings regarding your ascent to the throne, but it needn't be an extravagant event. It was just you, Aiden and Samanda, after all. You could wear a simple dress for this.

As you were changing, you heard a knock on your door.

"Who is it?"

You were currently in your black lacy bralette and a skirt slip. It wasn't very modest a look to share with the men.

"Madam sent me. She wanted you to have this before you attended the tea party."

A feminine voice spoke through the doors.

"Come on in, then."

Not paying the maid any mind, you proceeded to pull out the dress and take your time with wearing it. You heard the door shut closed and the lock being turned. You didn't pay it any mind, though. Maids often locked the doors to help you change into your gowns.

Once you were done, you turned around only to be pushed into the wall.

"Don't move."

The so called 'maid', pulled out a knife and held it to your throat.

You chuckled.

"Or what?"

She sneered up at you with her striking blue eyes.

"Move a muscle and you're dead, missy. Don't try me."

You raised a brow at her. She was quite a short and petite little thing. She was called the 'red pirate', a name that was clearly based off of her striking hair. You had always imagined this feared assassin to be imposing. You certainly hadn't expected a tiny female.

"You're so short.", you mused, raking your eyes over her delicious figure.

She growled, pushing the blade further into your skin, drawing a little blood.

"Shut up, or-"

"Or what? You'd kill me? Oh please."

You scoffed, leaning closer to the blade.

"We both know you're in deep trouble already. You don't want the blood of a princess on your hands, especially not the heiress of the throne."

Chuuya, the assassin, grit her teeth. She had heard rumours about the princess' witty nature. Chuuya already had anger issues, and you were getting on her nerves. Your words were frustrating her. She was already flustered from the accidental show of your toned body when she entered the room. She hadn't expected you to be changing.

"What are your plans? Are you hoping to steal an artifact and sell it for some money?"

You whispered in her ear.

"Or are you planning to kidnap me. Hmm?"

Chuuya gulped, a dark blush spreading on her cheeks. The intimacy was too much for her to handle.

She was about to speak back, when you both heard a knock on the locked doors. She froze for a second, before placing the palm of her hand on your mouth to shut you up.

"The Prince is calling for you, princess."

Your butler spoke from the other side.

You bit her hand, causing her to jump in shock, and used the opportunity to flip your positions. Grabbing her own dagger, you placed it against her throat.

"I'll be right there."

You called out.

"Okay, princess."

As you heard the footsteps fade away, you leaned closer to your little assassin.

"You know, I like you. How about we talk this out? It would be a shame to waste such beauty by hurling it into prison."

Chuuya growled, trying to kick you. Your reflexes were fast, and in a moment, you had your knee pressed I to her thigh to keep it in place.

"Nuh-uh. No funny business. "

She huffed, giving up.

"Now tell me. Why are you here?"

Chuuya hit her head on yours, making you lose your balance. She struck her arm forward, trying to stick her dagger into your flesh. You stumbled back, grabbing a chair and blocking her attack. The tip of the knife pierced through the cushion and wood, stopping an inch away from your face. Tossing the chair away, you reached underneath the edge of your bed, grabbing your hidden sword.

As Chuuya flung her dagger at you again, you blocked it with your sword, swiping at her feet. She dodged, elbowing you in your back, making you fall down.

She lunged at your torso, hoping to stab you. You rolled away, missing the blade by a millisecond.

"Why won't you just lie still!", she growled as she tried to pull the dagger from the wooden floor.

You jumped up on your feet, and charged into her with your shoulder. Pushing her onto the large king sized bed, you pinned her down.

Chuuya gasped, shocked and flustered. Fuck. This princess is really having an effect on her heart.

It wasn't like chuuya to let emotions get between her work, but she couldn't help but admire your beauty and charm.

Realizing the position you two were in, chuuya blushed, evading your gaze.

You were quick to notice, smirking.

"Flustered, are we?"

Straddling Chuuya, you sat up straighter, flicking your hair out of your face. At that moment, you could swear you saw Chuuya checking you out.

"Ah. I see why you're here."

Chuuya panicked. Did you really see through her plans?! If you figured it out, then her mission would practically fail.

"You're hear to woo the future queen and become ruler, aren't you?"

"Wh-what?! No!"

You giggled, leaning down to peck Chuuya's cheek. The simple action had her blushing furiously and hiding her face behind her hands. You gently held her hand, pulling at it to reveal her red face.

Chuuya looked up from behind her lashes, too shocked to think straight. As you looked down at her with that stupid smile, Chuuya couldn't help but feel her heart start beating rapidly.

You slowly began leaning closer to Chuuya, eyes trained on hers. Chuuya's lips parted in anticipation, and she kept glancing at your lips. They looked so soft.

Your smell, your closeness, it was all so intoxicating. Chuuya found herself getting lost in your aura.

You were so close now. Just a hair's breadth away. If Chuuya leaned up ever so slightly, she'd be able to taste your lips.

Click

The metallic sound was enough to snap her out of the trance.

"You bitch!"

Chuuya tugged at her hands, but to no avail. You had cuffed her hands to the headboard.

Getting off the mattress, you looked down at Chuuya pitifully.

The extreme change in your expression startled Chuuya. Were you acting all along? Were you manipulating her all this while?

"If you had done your homework about me, you would have known the most irritating trait of mine."

Chuuya frowned. She had done extensive research about the princess.

"Oh? And what's that?"

You glared down at her.

"I never lose."

With that, you stormed out of the room, not bothering to call the guards.

You would punish her yourself.

This could very well be fem! Dazai x Fem! Chuuya as the main character has such a Dazai vibe to her...

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Secrets ~ 6

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series; light touching.

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Notes:

Tomorrow will be a 12 hour day for me. Working on Xmas but oh well. I got this done on my one day off and I hope I survive the next week coming up!

I love you all, I thank you for your patience and feedback as always! Please don’t shy away in the comments, reblogs, etc.

Your time at Regia passed quickly and slowly all at once. You were woken most days abruptly by Barnes pounding on your door or standing over you with his smug half-grin. Then you dressed in clothes you reviled and ate a breakfast you couldn’t enjoy for all the expectation of your intake. You were allowed some recreation though that was often reading bland historical texts or walks in the garden with your keeper.

Your least favourite part of each day were your dance lessons. You had to relearn how to walk, talk, look, and eat, but you had never had much rhythm. Besides, being so close to Barnes with him commenting on your every misstep was hardly fun. He delighted in every mistake you made, eager to reproach you for each, and was easily amused by Priscilla’s stick smacking across your legs, back, and ass.

You counted eleven days as you began to truly fledge. You were tired, annoyed, and to be honest, hungry. That day, you beat Barnes’ early disturbance. You sat, in a coral blouse and a pleated grey skirted, with the lowest pair of heels in the closet. He greeted you almost with approval and that made your want to tear the blouse and shred it.

You didn’t. You followed him downstairs to your usual miserable meal. When you finished, he escorted you back up the wide staircase to the hall of mirrors. You hated the room. It gave you an all to inclusive view of your ridiculous attire. You didn’t look like you. Sure, you were one for a scholarly look but this wasn’t really that. This was a pompous, over-stylised look which would go well only with a silver spoon on your tongue.

A man waited in the hall of mirrors, a woman too. The man was slender and tall and his long fingers were twined together as he waited emotionlessly. He bowed as you entered and recited a dull ‘your highness’. The woman was squat and stuffed into a patterned wrap dress spotted with bright reds, pinks, and oranges. She was more jovial as her voice chimed with the same recitation.

“Lester, Deanna,” Barnes announced, “My apologies for the delay. I trust you are ready.”

“Darling, your highness,” The stout woman swayed over to you, “Come with me.”

“Huh,” you looked at Barnes and he smiled as he gestured you forward.

“Just go,” he ordered, “She doesn’t look like much but she’s not one for defiance.”

You sighed and let the woman usher you over to the attached room. The racks of dresses were gone but long garment bangs had been hung from a hook along the opposite wall. The door snapped shut behind you and Deanna flitted around you, like an elephant in heels, and turned you to face her.

“Oh, love, you are gorg,” she chimed in a peculiar accent, “I think however Lord Barnes was a bit off on your measurements,” she grasped your waist, “Lovely, lovely.”

“I hate to be a bitch but what the hell is going on?” You asked.

She blinked and laughed. She drew away and pushed her dark curls back as they burst forth from the jeweled pin behind her head. “Oh dear, you are fiery. The king will… like that. I think.”

She didn’t sound convincing as she spun away and marched over to the hook and took down the first bag. She unzipped it as she neared and turned it to reveal the contents. A white lacy dress with thin straps and a scalloped hem around the neckline. The bodice was fitted and the skirt flared out into a princess silhouette. You knitted your brow as you stared at it.

“Your wedding dress,” she sang. “Oh, it will surely look splendid on you, darling. Your highness.”

She stripped the bag away and was careful not to let the skirts touch the floor as she held it aloft and folded the swaths of fabric over her arm. She held it out to her as she beamed at you.

“So… I don’t get to choose?” You wondered. You didn’t care very much but you hated that all your decisions were made for you.

“Oh, but this was refashioned from the former queen’s dress. It is a tradition in Astrania. In fact some of this would date back centuries!” She explained, “Of course we do update the style.”

You chewed on your lip and shrugged. “Let’s just get this over with,” you muttered.

You felt defeated as you couldn’t help but fixate on the white gown. It was like you were wrapping yourself in a flag of surrender. You’d wave your skirts and let yourself be taken. You undressed and stepped into the dress as she opened it for you. She pulled the straps over your arms and zipped it up.

“Rather, it fits you well,” she came around as she pinched at the fabric and smoothed out the seams. She wasn’t wrong, though it felt rather constricting. “Well, come on. Lester needs to do his figures. He’s always the better eye for this. I just sew.”

She took your hand as you lifted your skirts with your other. You let her guide you back out to the hall of mirrors and you avoided looking around you. You couldn’t look at Barnes either as you sensed him watching you. You blurred your vision as you lifted your head and the tall man, Lester, walked around you. He began to pin little pieces in place and Deanna pulled out a small notepad as she began to jot with a stubbed pencil.

“Hmm,” Barnes appeared before you and your vision cleared, “Not bad…” He brushed the lace with his fingers and traced the curve of your waist with his hands, “However…” He lingered just below your chest, “You can’t show the entire kingdom your bra. You would do better to leave that behind on the day.”

“We can add some structure,” Lester offered evenly. “But our adjustments will be minor.”

Barnes reached over and tugged the skirts from your hand and fluffed them out around you. He rounded you and gripped your shoulders. You saw yourself in the mirrored wall and tried not to show your surprise. It wasn’t awful but you still didn’t like it.

“We have three days left. You have the other dress?” He asked.

“We have options,” Deanna said, “We were uncertain if the king would prefer red or blue.”

“Let me see,” Barnes sidestepped her and went to the attached room.

Deanna glanced at you and waved you after him as she approached and gathered your skirts. She followed after you and your vigilant chaperone. She released the vast skirts and went to Barnes as he neared the hanging garment bags. She unzipped both and he tilted his head and tutted.

“Red,” he said, “I believe the king will be in blue.”

“Very well,” Deanna pulled the dress from the bag. “Now dear, let’s get you changed.”

Barnes turned back and neared you. He faced you and reached around you. He pushed the zipper down slowly and leaned in until his breath tickled your nose. “Three days.” He reminded you. He drew away and left you as the bodice fell slack. He closed the door behind him as Deanna replaced him.

“Darling, I think red will look marvelous on you. And the king in blue! He has the most amazing eyes. Oh, if I was younger… maybe, skinnier,” she giggled, “Well, should I even tell you? You’ve seen him. Ugh, handsome bugger, he is.”

“Mhmm,” you grumbled as you wiggled out of the gown, “What a tragedy it’d be if his outside was ugly too.”

👑

That night was as restless as any. You laid in bed for a time, tossing and turning. You tried to forget about the blinding white dress and the abhorrent red number that came after. And how time seemed to pass regardless of your fears or your desires. You felt helpless. You used to be in control of everything and now, you couldn’t control even yourself.

You sat up in a slat of moonlight. You weren’t going to sleep. Your frustration mounted the longer you squeezed your eyes shut and clawed and clutched for rest. You grunted and stood as the duvet fell away from your legs. The short silk nightie sent a chill up your spin as it fluttered around your thighs.

You crossed your arms and went to the window. The lawns were peaceful despite the anxiety within the palace. You turned away as the lush green rippling in the silver shadows only heightened your uneasiness. You took the blush coloured robe from the chair sat before the vanity and swathed yourself in it as you neared the door.

It was, to your surprise, unlocked. As strict a warden as Barnes was, you just assumed he would have locked you in. You let out a breath and stepped out into the hallway. The portraits of your predecessors, dead and dusty, watched you pass as you tiptoed along. The windows cast shapes around you as you went along and at times, you were certain you heard whispers.

You descended to the lower first floor and ventured down a wing never explored before. Your eyes were attune to the darkness but still played tricks as you crept along. You heard the distant, muffled, and quite possibly, imagined ripple of water. You smelled a pool, the sharp scent of chlorine. Your senses brought you to a door at the end of the corridor.

Frosted glass framed in heavy metal. You pressed against the slotted handle and the clasp slowly lifted. You inched inside as you peeked around the door. Broad shoulders, bare and thick with muscle, beneath a head of dark hair. You were shocked by the scars along Barnes’ left shoulder and the arm no longer in place below. You’d never even noticed the prosthetic now laid out with his clothes on a bench near the wall.

He shoved himself into the pool and the water swelled around him. You placed your feet carefully as you eased the door shut and neared the bench where his suit was folded neatly with his shoes, socks, belt, and tie. You bent closer as you admired the hand at the end of the prosthetic; you touched it curiously. It felt lifelike even as it sat limp.

“Convincing?” Bucky’s voice frightened you as you heard the water move around his body. You turned to face him as he brought his right arm over the edge of the pool. “Don’t worry. You can toss it around. I won’t feel a thing.”

You were speechless; embarrassed. You hadn’t meant to intrude upon him but your fatigue mixed with your confusion had goaded you on.

“Sorry, I… I couldn’t sleep.” You hugged yourself and swept back to the door. “I wasn’t meaning-- I shouldn’t have--”

“Just an arm.” He said as he pushed himself up and turned to display what was left of his arm, a scarred stub just below his shoulder. “Good thing I was born with two.”

“Barnes…” You backed up until you were against the door. “I should go.”

“Alright,” he pushed himself back and floated with his single arm outstretched. “I always found swimming helped… with sleep.” He said lazily. “Calming.”

You didn’t move. You only watched as he floated along in only his briefs. He was entirely unbothered by your presence as he hummed and reached out to stop himself at the other end of the pool.

“Well, are you enjoying the show or you going to join?” He asked.

You watched him warily. “You’re not mad?”

“Maybe slightly irritated,” he shrugged, “You hovering is ruining the mood.”

You stared at him and slowly pushed yourself away from the door. You took small steps forward and lowered yourself along the rim of the pool. You held in a squeak as you hung your legs into the cool water.

“So, were you just not going to tell me there was a pool?” You chided.

“You didn’t ask,” he said as he waded casually through the water. “To be fair, you didn’t seem much interested in this place though as I’ve gathered, you are disinterested in most things.”

You frowned and rolled your eyes. You peered over at the wall and pondered leaving him as you found him. You were surprised by a wet hand on your knee.

“If I can get to you so easy, Steve’s gonna drive you mad,” Barnes said. “So if you’re going to be so easily perturbed, you better work on hiding it better.”

“Whatever,” you huffed.

“Whatever,” he mocked as his hand slid under the water and he gripped your ankle. “Loosen up.”

He kicked himself away from the wall and pulled you down into the pool. You plunged with a yelp and threw your arms up in panic. Your nose and mouth filled with water and he let you go. You bobbed back to the surface and spat as your silken night clothes clouded around you.

“What the fuck, Barnes?” You sputtered.

“I’ll admit,” he said through chuckles, “I had a drink or two.” He winked as he moved around you. “Well, Duchess, you do play the role much better than you think.”

“Ugh,” you turned away and reached for the wall of the pool, “You are the worst.”

“Wait,” he pressed against you and caught you around your waist, “Wait, wait.” He drew you back with him. “Come on. Relax.” He dragged you further into the water, “Look, you’ve only got a few days left and even if you hate to listen to me, you should. Once you’re at court, this won’t happen. Ever.”

“What do you care? You haven’t so far.” You struggled with him and dipped below the water again. You twisted and turned and came up facing him as he clung to you.

“Duchess,” he warned, “Don’t be a brat.”

“A brat?” You blinked. “Let go of me, Barnes.”

He grinned and held you to him as he moved backwards across the pool. You felt something between you. It moved against your pelvis and as he spun you and pinned you against the tile, you realised what it was.

“Are you serious right now?” You snarled. “What about your king, huh?”

He chuckled and his hand slid down your back. He squeezed your ass as he kept you against the side of the pool. He was so close you could feel his breath and smell the remnants of his sweat and cologne.

“I’m supposed to show you how to be a good wife,” his finger tickled under your thigh, “In all areas.”

“I doubt he had this in mind,” you pushed against him but he was too strong. He slid between your legs as his hand stretched along the crease of your thigh. “I mean it, Barnes--”

Your voice gurgled as he reached below your nightie and stroked the front of your thin panties. The water splashed as you slapped his chest and growled.

“James!” You cried out. “Stop!”

He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. He twirled his fingers and you gritted your teeth against the tingle it sent through you. You stared into his eyes, fighting against the urge to let him go on. You shook your head slowly and pressed your hands to his shoulders. He let you push him away as his hand trailed over your leg.

“Oh, you just wait, Duchess,” he purred as he combed back his damp hair, “The king isn’t so willing to take orders.”

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #fic #secrets #dark fic #dark!fic #series #mcu #marvel #au #captain america #king!steve #royal au

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years

Text

Madness

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Sigurd/Blaeja

Summary: “I was wondering if I could request an imagine where the reader is a princess and Ivar travels to England with his brothers & thinks the princess is beautiful but he gets teased by Sigurd and his brothers but she can understand their language and decides to flirt with him in front of everyone?”

So I made her Kwenthrith’s daughter because why the fuck not, and Blaeja (Aelle’s daughter) is on this cause again, why the fuck not. Also the Reader might be a tad insane, but at this rate all my Reader characters are idk what to tell u

Word Count: 4.7k (I’m sorry lol)

Warnings: Mentions of rape and child abuse, mentions and allusions to violence and death, my horrible writing

A/N: Idk how I feel about this, I hope I don’t dissapoint the anon that requested it lol. Hope you enjoy, thank you for reading, and ily! <3

Also, I kinda went a lil overboard :/

The handmaid is fixing the coronet over your head when you hear the doors to your rooms open, so she turns to demand propriety from whoever entered unannounced, but seeing Aelle’s daughter with a devilish smile on her lips stops her on her tracks.

“Your Grace.” The woman bows gracefully, and steps back, letting Blaeja take her place.

“Are you ready?” The girl whispers to you, adept hand working at the tresses of your hair to make sure it is carefully hidden under your veil that showcases the delicate circlet on your head.

“You are the one that will be sent off to be married, my friend,” You remind her, chuckling, “To one of those…”

“Lord Sigurd is not that bad,” She interrupts, what for a second sounds like girlish infatuation on her tone. You are opening your mouth to quip on how she refers to one of those brutes as a ‘Lord’ but she clears her throat, and continues, “He played some music for me, the other day.”

“You have nothing to fear then,” You mock with a roll of your eyes, “Maybe he also played music for your father before they executed him, made all of it a much more lovely affair.”

Blaeja tugs at your hair in warning, and you steal a glance at the handmaid that looks carefully at the floor. As if she needed eyes to hear you, as if you didn’t know how she’ll gossip about this with the others.

“Careful, or I’ll ask that you come with me,” She laughs, “I’ll have you sold for two gold coins.”

“You are talking to the heiress to a broken and war-torn kingdom, Lady Blaeja, you better remember that!” You tell her in jest, and she laughs, with that laugh you two share, that laugh born out of despair and loss and uncertainty.

“How could I? Judith never lets me forget what a might Mercia continues to be.” She replies with no little disdain in her tone. After a breath of hesitation, she orders with curt words for the servants to leave you two alone, and once the doors close, the Princess of Northumbria kneels in front of you where you sit, grabbing your hands tightly on her own.

“You are scaring me.”

“There’s no reason to fear,” She tells you even as tears fill her eyes. With a tremulous smile, she whispers, “I heard my sister talking with her husband, about you.”

“Me?”

“Alfred would benefit greatly from having a Mercian Princess as wife,” She states, and though she smiles you feel only cold settling over your heart, dread. “With your mother dead…”

“Dead when King Ecbert, blessed be his memory, took control over Mercia, Blaeja! They already own my kingdom.” You remind her lowly, leaning down so your faces are closer to each other, but this doesn’t dim her smile.

Your heart aches at the reminder of your mother, for her, in all her sins and her scars, was the only family you ever had. The only protection you had, in that palace filled with monsters.

If you think about it, if you sit surrounded by all your sins and your mistakes and your faults and think about it, you know it was the sight of her shaking hands as she looked at them expecting to see blood and told you of the death of her brother that made you stop having faith in your God.

It wasn’t the death of a would-be king at the hands of his sister what made you realize the bishops and priests and deacons and saints were all full of lies, no. It was the emptiness in her gaze as she spoke of walking out of that room a Queen and realizing it wasn’t enough to make up for the pain he -the last remaining alive in the long line of monsters that made up your family- caused her.

It was the hoarse voice of the proud and ruthless Queen of Mercia telling you of the barbarity that took place right under her father’s willfully ignorant gaze, it was the shaking hands that clasped your own and begged for forgiveness that she didn’t need to ask for, it was the severed heads brought in by the Vikings that weren’t enough to heal her, it was the realization God, if he was ever there, looked away most of her life.

You shake those thoughts off, and focus on the Princess before you that smiles in a mix of joy for your fate and bitterness for hers.

With shaky breaths, you insist, “What on earth are you talking about?”

“They would have Mercian blood on their lineage, it would strengthen their claim.” She states, and the disgust it fills you with makes you feel shame. You should be ecstatic at the chance of becoming Queen, at the prospect giving Wessex strong sons to prepare for ruling and beautiful daughters to…to exchange like broodmares, like Blaeja, given to a Viking of all men, breakable daughters to fail to protect, like Kwenthrith, raped by her own brother and uncle.

You remember your mother’s pain. You remember her whispers about the court being filled with snakes, you remember her stories about the women with swords and loud voices.

And you remember King Ecbert’s lessons. You remember his tales about the land where his Ragnar Lothbrok came from, you remember his bitterness at the strange land that captured the heart of a man of God such as Athelstan.

You meet her brown eyes, and force a smile on your lips, because may the earth part underneath your feet and drag you down, you will not wed Alfred.

____

They introduce you to the sons of Ragnar, and you will admit, Blaeja looks positively smitten by the easy smile the blond man gives her in greeting. Lovely.

Judith makes a point of having you be sitting next to Alfred who, blessed be his soul, attempts to strike conversation with you only to be stopped by his own shyness.

You still offer him a few courteous smiles, and thank his kindness when he offers it so. When the Vikings talk amongst each other, mostly about the strange food and customs, you notice the King looks at you to gauge your expression, as if he knows you also know their tongue.

You worry about how much King Ecbert shared with him for a moment, but say nothing.

“So, the one that walked in with your bride,” One of the sons of Ragnar starts, and though you decide to pay attention you keep your gaze on your food and the entertainment going on around you, offering one of the performers a small smile. “Who is she?”

“Princess of Mercia, I think. The crazy queen father fought for with Uncle Rollo and the others, that’s her daughter.” A man with hair that you thought first was short but realized later falls down his back in a thick braid, his blond beard unkept, but his eyes those of an experienced man as they look over the room.

“Let’s hope beauty is not all she shares with that crazy bitch, huh? I would love to fuck a Saxon princess again.” Mocks a man you weren’t introduced to, so not a son of Ragnar, with ink on his face and long dark hair.

You realize too late you have lifted your gaze and set your eyes on him, what is sure to be affront and embarrassment showing on your face.

You lower your eyes again to the table before you, clenching your hands into fists on your lap, but you feel like someone is looking at you, and from the other end of the table, when you peek carefully, you catch the eyes of the one they introduced but whose name you can’t remember, the one with short dark hair, the one whose legs seem to be broken.

He looks at you with a silver of surprise, but there’s something else there. Regardless, you know he knows, and it makes fear settle on your stomach like acid. You wonder if this is what Burgred felt when he was poisoned.

“You’ve been staring at her all night, Ivar,” Blaeja’s betrothed starts, voice sickly mocking. “Are you hoping she’ll look back? Take your cripple ass to her bed?”

“Sigurd…” One of the elder brothers grumbles, clearly tired of it all.

“I’m just saying, he’d have more luck forcing a thrall to touch him than hoping a free woman will.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you, brother? Fucking your slave so she can’t even say no.”

“Who out of the two of us will bed a princess, hmm? It surely isn’t the cripple that can’t even please a slave right, is it?”

You and Alfred exchange a look, no longer pretending either of you don’t understand, as the youngest, Ivar, snarls some threat at his brother, voice and temper rising alike.

Refusing to be spoken of like some sort of cunt with a crown, you speak up, though your gaze remains on your plate.

“Princess Blaeja asks you to play that awful lute to keep your paws off her, so I fear that arrogance is unfounded, my Prince.”

Alfred chokes on his drink as he tries covering a startled laugh with a cough, and you feel wide eyes from the end of the table where the Vikings seat settle on you.

“What did you say?” One of the men asks slowly, and with the madness your mother left you with, you lift your gaze and meet the eyes of the man you recognize as Bjorn Ironside.

“My mother wasn’t crazy,” Is all you reply with gritted teeth, before turning to the blonde that Blaeja is to marry. You don’t know what it is that makes you open your mouth again, but you do, “And I was indeed looking at your brother. I feel for you deeply, my Prince, if you can’t recognize want in a woman’s gaze.”

Alfred clears his throat, what you could swear is a smile -the youthful smile of a boy witnessing chaos- shyly settling on his lips, and stands up to propose a toast and dissipate the atmosphere.

“With this being one of the last nights our dear Blaeja, daughter of the late King Aelle, blessed be his soul, spends with us, I-…”

You don’t listen anymore, taking a sip from your wine and catching over the rim of your goblet the eyes of the youngest son of Ragnar -Ivar, you remind yourself- on you, studying you with a mix of mistrust and curiosity.

You keep your gaze on his, and as you lower your cup from your lips, you offer a smile. His own lips tremble in what was sure to be an instinctual reply with a smile of his own, before he schools his features.

Regardless, he takes his eyes off yours and in his whole posture embarrassment is written. Managing to fluster a Viking of all men fills you with a thrill, a heat, like no other.

The men toast and you gesture your goodbyes as the dinner is dispersed. Before you can make it out the door, Blaeja stops you with a hand on your arm.

“What did y-…do you speak their tongue?”

“I do. King Ecbert taught me a lot before he died,” You state, before frowning in confusion and thoughtfulness, “Before he died at the hands of these men…Blaeja, my friend, don’t you ever stop and think about how strange it all has become?”

Blaeja only narrows her eyes with a growing exasperated smile on her lips.

“I care about what you said to my future husband.”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” You pat her cheek in friendly jest, making her roll her eyes. After a moment of consideration, you tell her, “Though he may not play his lute as often anymore, I fear.”

____

You wait impatiently by the window to your room, wondering over and over if this is the wrong choice, if you are making the worst mistake possible, if you are walking into the wolf’s den.

Before you can think yourself out of this, Blaeja, with her head covered by a dark cloak, makes her way into your room.

“I didn’t think your betrothed would agree.” Is all you state, dryly, as she motions for you to get your own cloak.

“Oh, I can assure you Prince Sigurd despises you, but luckily, he seems to adore me. Go, and don’t make me regret this.”

With a light laugh you kiss her cheek and dart out of the room, ready to follow the familiar path to where you asked Prince Sigurd to arrange a meeting between his brother and you.

“So it is you.” He says, dragging himself up a couch in front of yours. You clasp your hands together to keep them from trembling, and try to remember all the logic, all the strategy, you’ve put behind this stupid plan of yours.

“I told them to let you know.” You reply curtly, but the Prince shrugs.

“Sigurd could be mocking me. Make the cripple think he is meeting with the Princess?” He shrugs, but it is not nonchalant in the slightest. In all of his fame and vitriol, you notice, now only remains a man uncertain, unmoored, braced for rejection or mocking like you’ve scarcely seen before. The knowledge that you, or the combination of you and his older brother, seem to be a vulnerable point for him is a knowledge you don’t truly know what to do with. You say nothing in response, and with a movement of his head, after settling in his seat, he insists, “Why did you want to meet with me?”

“You norsemen have a reputation,” You start carefully, plucking at a lose string on the sleeve of your dress. “And the crown needs the allegiance Blaeja’s marriage with your brother gives them, so no mat-…”

“I don’t like your roundabout ways,” He states brusquely, and it stops you on your tracks, your eyes wide and lips parted as you stare at the Prince. He gestures with one hand, a frown starting to mar his face, “Just say what you want, Princess.”

“I want you to take me with you back to wherever it is you come from. I want them to believe I’ve been stolen.”

The Prince looks at you like you have grown a second head, and to be quite frank, once the words have left your lips you realize you might as well have. This is foolish, and dangerous, and...crazy.

That’s what they called your mother, not only these norsemen but all of them. Because she admitted what many didn’t dare to: that if she had been born with a cock they all would have bowed and given her the crown she deserved, that the earth would have been easier to walk on.

You refuse to think madness is a bad trait.

You don’t have to ponder whether the Viking will see it as such, for you notice you have piqued his interest, you notice the curiosity at the madness in your request.

“Are you sure you aren’t the mad Mercian princess?”

You offer a humorless laugh at his taunt, and retort, “I don’t want to be here anymore. And…I can prove useful to you.”

“If you say a wife…”

You don’t let him finish, leaning closer and whispering,

“They want me to marry Alfred.”

“And you don’t want to.”

“His grandfather took Mercia from me, I will not be used as a broodmare so they can hold on tighter to my kingdom.”

The Viking starts to smile, wild and yet calculating, the ruthless and intelligent man his fame says he is.

“But you don’t want revenge.”

“They can fight for the scraps of what once was a mighty kingdom for the rest of time for all I care,” You offer honestly, “I do not want to be caught up in between. I will have to give him children if I marry him, and I refuse to let a child of mine suffer like my mother did, like Blaeja did.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, and his tone grows cruel, mocking, like the cat that plays with the poor mouse before eating it, when he insists, “I could make you a slave, sell you. If you annoy me, I could torture you. If you betray me, I would kill you.”

“I told you I was of use to you, though,” You insist past the fear that makes your hands tremble, “I will not be of use in pieces. You and Alfred played chess before, haven’t you?”

He loosens his posture, his expression is no longer so guarded and venomous as he asks, “And what is this use?”

“I’m a pawn they want to make Queen,” You state, and the Viking starts to smile. You knew he was smart; you knew he was aware of how he could take advantage of ‘taking’ you as a prisoner for his own gain. You have a feeling he wanted to know if you were aware of how your position could be played. Like chess, you ponder. “Surely you could ask for a lot in exchange for my safe return home.”

He considers your words in silence for a few moments, eyes travelling between yours as if trying to read your response to the words he has not yet uttered.

“And if I don’t want to return you to your home?”

You shrug, “Then they’ll have a rallying call for their war against your people, and I will be free from these…these nobles and their fucking priests.”

The Viking breathes a laugh, surprised and a little enthralled it seems, but you find yourself smiling back.

You keep careful eyes on the moon that travels the skies, watchful over the time that you will have to return to your rooms before anyone notices your absence. But in the meantime, you enjoy with easy smiles and a light heart the company of the Viking, surprisingly enough.

____

And the few extra days Blaeja can buy you do almost nothing for the plans of your escape -a part of you is certain the Viking has a plan he won’t share with you- but it does let you get to know the man you are asking to kidnap you. A giant brute like the others, that’s for certain, but he is smart, and cunning, and his dry humor never fails to make you laugh.

You find yourself intrigued, captivated, much more so than you could have thought when you made the choice to speak out against his brother during that first dinner. It is no secret to you he is no longer a pawn in the game you decided to play, but you cannot help but think you still are merely a pawn to him.

One of the nights you meet under the guard of the moon, he starts, “I cannot take you from this city, not without an army.”

“I know.”

His eyebrows raise, “And you have thought of a way around that.”

“Haven’t you?” You reply with a small smile, knowing he has.

“If you could go closer to York…”

“Or you closer to Tamworth.”

“We’d have no way to leave by sea. I can’t exactly walk through the wilderness with you, Princess, as you can see.”

You roll your eyes with a smile on your lips, but eventually acquiesce with a nod.

You sigh, “Then I don’t know, Ivar.”

You notice it is the first time you have said his name instead of his title, and you raise startled and apologetic eyes to him. He doesn’t seem to mind, though you notice his gaze lingering on you for a few moments longer than it should.

It gives your still young and innocent heart a shock of hope that you feel all the way to the tips of your fingers.

“One way or another, I will steal you, Princess,” He insistes, and you only lift an eyebrow in response. He crosses his arms, “I promise.”

____

“They leave tonight.” Blaeja starts from her place sitting at your side on the garden bench. You turn to her.

“You leave tonight,” You remind her, “Aren’t you forgetting your lovely husband to be?”

But she shakes her head, “Prince Sigurd and I will marry if he returns,” Her voice wavers, and you realize with a mix of dread and joy she has learned to care for the Viking. She straightens her back and continues, “When he returns from the battle they depart today to prepare for.”

“Against Alfred?”

“Against the woman that murdered their mother. He says they are to take back their Kingdom from her.”

“Your Prince trusts you with all of these things.”

“His brother tells you things too.” She states without hesitation, and you look at her but stay silent, not denying Ivar has told you of Queen Aslaug and her murder already. Many things actually, just as you have told him many things too.

“So it will be a while before you see him again, if ever.” You muse, not only talking about her. It would be foolish to feel pain, loss, fear; you tell yourself. It doesn’t stop the prick of tears on your eyes, or the pit of pain on your chest.

“I will depart to Bamburgh in three days to await word of the outcome of the battle.”

You lay your head on her shoulder, releasing a shaky breath, “I’ll miss you.”

_____

Judith hounds you like a dog and it is starting to get on your nerves. You feel you are being judged and considered carefully for the role of Alfred’s wife, a role you do not want to be in and, if you were to ask him, you don’t think he’d want you in either.

The talks start of having a royal wedding soon after Blaeja weds the Viking Prince, who seems to have survived the battle for Kattegat. You tried asking around, bribing a servant or two, to figure out the fate of Prince Ivar, but you are too close to bearing the crown for them to feel comfortable trading secrets with you, it seems.

You catch sight of Alfred’s eyes on you during a dinner one night, and he offers what you swear is a soothing smile even if his warm eyes shine with regret.

Judith grabs onto her son’s arm and a tired-looking Aethelwulf stands up from his throne, calling for the attention of the clergy and nobles alike.

They announce you as Alfred’s betrothed after a few words you don’t bother with listening to.

As a gift for his bride to be, Alfred arranges for a few soldiers to escort you to Bamburgh, apparently at the request of Princess Blaeja that you accompany her on her wedding day. And barely with time to pack, almost three months after you last saw her, you are in a carriage on your way to the North.

____

She looks radiant, that’s the first thing you notice when you see her awaiting for you by the gates to the royal home. Bright smile and even brighter eyes, rosy cheeks and excitement and joy written all over her posture.

It gladdens you, to know she will be wed to a man she can care for, a man that can care for her. That maybe, just maybe, like in those tales your mother used to mock, there’s love to be felt before the Lord is to bind them together.

And once the ships arrive you will not lie and pretend you don’t feel disappointment, maybe grief, at the absence of the vitriolic yet captivating prince you met what seems so long ago.

You heard them talking about a son of Ragnar becoming King of Kattegat, and you have no doubts as to who bears the crown now. In another world, you may have left, he may have earned a kingdom in what used to be Mercia or Northumbria in exchange for the safe return to Wessex you’d never make.

But you will not let it stop you from finding a way out of this arrangement, of this…this marriage.

The possibility of asking Blaeja to claim you as a permanent resident of her land is there, of course, but you don’t think she has enough leverage against the crown itself to be able to keep you more than a few months. You could simply run away, but you are not stupid, you know you’d die or be found before you can spend a moon in the wilderness.

Still, you are a smart woman, you tell yourself, you will find a way out.

While the dinner -feast, they call it- in celebration for the wedding takes place, a man you recognize as one of the eldest sons of Ragnar approaches you while you sit alone.

You cannot help the pang of fear that runs through you at the sight of one of those giants looming over you, but you still offer what you hope is a courteous smile.

“You have to come with me.” He tells you, and you frown.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Follow me.”

He doesn’t wait for your answer, turning his back to you and slithering effortlessly between the dancing and feasting guests. After a moment of consideration, with a small smile on your face as if it were a thrillingly dangerous game of hide and seek, you chase after the Viking.

He leads you all the way down to the docks, and since the moon is high up in the skies, the streets are almost deserted and you are left forced to guide yourself in the darkness or thanks to the rare and dim light of a faraway lantern.

You still push on, your heart beating on your ears and fear and thrill bubbling under your skin.

“This is where I leave you, Princess,” The son of Ragnar says, stopping abruptly and turning to you. You frown, but he doesn’t step closer so you have nothing to fear. “We will see each other again.”

The man with the blondish and long hair gestures a mock of a formal goodbye, and walks confidently back to the royal home where the party -feast- is still taking place.

You are left dumbfounded and alone in the darkness, and instinct makes you want to chase after him and demand answers.

“Following a strange Viking into the darkness,” A familiar voice starts from behind you, stopping you on your tracks, “No wonder people say you are as crazy as your mother, Princess.”

You turn around with a frown and raised chin, ready to retort, “My mother was not c-…”

But you realize halfway as the words leave your lips whose voice it is, to whom the familiar pale blue eyes belong to.

Ivar stands now, and his hair seems longer and braided in some strange style, even his armor looks different. It seems like years have passed even though it has scarcely been half a year yet.

“You’re alive.” You whisper, and the Viking frowns, affronted.

“Of course I am,” He replies arrogantly, and you cannot keep the smile from your lips. He extends a hand, “And I’ve come to…steal you, was it?”

You don’t answer, even if a part of you is thrilled at him remember that first conversation. You only look at him with wide eyes.

“You’re a king now.”

“Hmm, and I was offered a queen, was I not?”

It startles you back to reality, back to your senses, and you notice the three ships with dim lanterns and silent warriors docked at the sides of the dragon-headed ship Ivar -King Ivar now, you suppose- stands in.

“That’s…not what I meant.” You say, but still your hand grasps at the skirts of your dress to lift it up, and you walk closer.

“Have you decided to stay with them?” And the sudden steel underneath his words, a promise of what you could be at the other end of if he is to believe you’ve fooled him, or gone back on your word, makes a thrill of fear go down your back.

“No, but…”

“Usually stealing a bride doesn’t involve this much talking, Princess.” He interrupts, and extends a hand, and you look at it with wide eyes.

“Now?”

“Why not?”

“I-…” You look into his eyes, pale blue eyes that you saw more than once when you closed your own in these past months, and a breathy laugh leaves your lips, “This is madness.”

Ivar says nothing, but his hand is still stretched between you. You take it, and jump into the ship.

___

So, that was it :/ I have a feeling it’s pretty boring but I’ll hope that’s cause I wrote it lol

Thank you for reading! I would love to know what you think, and if you wanna rquest anything go right ahead, I promise to try my best lol

Thank you, I hoped you enjoyed <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #vikings imagine

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justice4harwin · 3 years

Text

Light’s Corruption- Chapter V

Pairing: The DarklingxAlina

Summary:With few friends at the Little Palace, Alina must work to win the favour of her fellow grisha and their commander, who makes her feel light headed every time she sees him.

After training in Os Alta for two years, the king grows tired of waiting and demands the Sun Summoner joins a western post near the Fjerdan border along with the rest of The Second Army to test her abilities.

Something happens. Suddenly, Alina wants blood to run down the rivers and those who stand in her and The Darkling’s way will be blinded by her light and swallowed by his shadows.

It won’t be pretty

Rating: 18+

Click here for chapter 4

As usual, tags are in the comments. If you dont wanna be tagged, dont be afraid to let me know. If you wanna be tagged, let me know too. I dont bite...anymore lmao

Chapter 5: Heartrenders

Days went by, and they turned into weeks. The leaves fell off the trees, a crunchy sea of red, orange, yellow and brown, and Alina wanted to pile them all on and throw herself inside.

She'd do it the first chance she got, but for that she had to beat the gardeners before they took the piles and burnt them to depressing ashes.

She talked to Michail some more during they rounds around the lake and had her rematch with Natasha.

She lost. Again. She laughed it off. Again. Natasha said she hadn't been so easy to defeat that second time, to which Alina smiled almost genuinely. Progress.

Baghra refused to see her still, and Alina was too proud to go back to her, so she tried to practice on her own. She'd hide away on the far sides of the gardens where the other grisha rarely went to and try to gain more control. It was a slow process; the temptation to let her power run free and vast was always there and trying to tame that always left her exhausted. She had no trouble falling asleep, yet each day the bags underneath her eyes seemed to deepen, as did her appetite. Alina was pretty sure that summoning should be for the better, but more than once, she had thoroughly considered laying down on the cold grass and take a nap there instead of walking all the way back to the Little Palace.

The General wasn't back yet, and much to Alina's confusion, frustration and shame, she worried. Maybe that too had something to do with the bags underneath her eyes. She tended to dream of him in all kinds of scenarios, each less pleasant than the last. It made her wake up sweaty and choking for air.

More than once, she almost wrote to him, only if just to make sure he was alright. But he had to be. Otherwise, word would've spread quickly…right?

She always talked herself out of it though. His presence was missed, her mind was making up all kind of tricks to make her reach out to him like a pathetic girl begging for attention.

The thought reminded her of Baghra's opinion of her, which only strengthened her resolve to not write to him.

She had had enough of begging, enough of getting scrapes of affection from a man who hadn't even bother to write once; she wouldn't do it again, no matter how much her heart tried to pull her to him.

But then her eyes would drift back to the black, shadow rose that laid on her nightstand, the little bit of gold on its inside long dead, and her heart would race and some form of reassurance would fall gently over her, like a blanket shielding her body.

She'd reach out and take it in her hands. It had no thorns. Her fingers would run through its petals, as soft as those of a real rose, but with something deeper in there. There was something more alive inside that rose than in any flower in all of Ravka; it was deep, powerful, and dark. It scared and alluded to her in the same measure, and she'd stare at it fascinated for an unfathomable long time.

She wondered if The Darkling could feel her caressing his shadows; and how he'd feel about it.

Besides Michail and Natasha, Alina didn’t seem to be progressing very much. They exchanged niceties and some jokes, even paired up during training, but there was not much more to it.

She told herself to be patient. These things took time.

One early afternoon, Genya showed up on her room unannounced. Alina hurried to hide her rose inside her nightstand; she wasn't sure why, but she wanted it to be her little secret.

"The Queen just left Os Alta." the redhead smiled. "As did the king. They'll be gone for two days on a hunting trip."

"A hunting trip?"

"Yes, where they kill animals for the fun of it. Like one of those brutish size competitions men seem to like so much."

Alina snorted.

"So?"

"So…"there was a gleam to her friend's eyes, and the summoner leaned back and frowned slightly, almost scared. "I could sneak you into the Grand Palace and into Her Royal Bitch's wardrobe."

"We'll get in trouble, Gen."

"Oh, please; have some faith in me." she placed her elbows on the desk and her chin atop of her hands, almost looking angelic. "Do you really think I'd get you in trouble?"

"Yes."

"Well, then you're wrong." she straightened up and tugged on Alina's arm. "C'mon; there's so many gowns and habits: she rarely wears them twice. We're not stealing; no one will know."

"How many gowns?" she asked, genuinely curious. She had seen the queen on two official occasions, the first time when she arrived from the camps near Kribirsk, and the second when she was invited to her ridiculous tea parade. Still, she had seen her in passing a few times as she strolled the grounds. A part of Alina felt ashamed of the jealousy she felt upon seeing her beautiful clothes and jewels.

There she was, living in a palace, wearing a kefta and being pampered, yet she dared to want more.

"Hundreds!" the Tailor whispered excitedly. "And they'll look much better on us anyway."

She gave in a little to temptation. They would just try them on and leave them again. No one would know, and maybe she'd be satisfied then.

"Alright, alright. But we better not get caught."

"Don't worry, we won't."

They left the bedroom and ran down the stairs, Genya holding onto the blue sleeve of her friend as she rambled about all the different fabrics and patterns and accessories while Alina tried to keep up with her, listening to every word while watching her step. The last thing she needed was to trip down the stairs.

That'd be a sad way to go for her.

"You'll love it. I promise!" Genya turned to give her a smile, but Alina's eyes drifted to the looming figure appearing in her line of vision.

The Darkling walked into the Little Palace accompanied by Ivan, Fedyor and a third heartrender.

It was a woman, a little bit older than Alina probably, but only for a few years. She was tall, with long, brown hair cascading down her back. Her kefta, which hugged her rounded figure nicely, gave her away as a fellow heartrender.

The Darkling noticed them approaching. Alina tried to search something in his eyes, anything that gave away any sort of emotion that could cause in him to see her again, but she saw nothing but his usual coolness.

The Summoner and the Tailor came to a stop and bowed.

"Moi Soverennyi." they bowed respectfully.

"Miss Starkov, Miss Safin; it has been some time." he looked from one to the other. "May I inquire as to your present activities?"

"Nothing we're not supposed to do." Alina spat out, earning herself a dainty elbow to the ribs.

General Kirigan rose an eyebrow.

"I see. See to it that it stays that way."

"Of course, sir." spoke Genya, serious all of a sudden.

The man turned and contemplated the strange woman for a moment, then gestured at Alina with a gloved hand.

"This is Alina Starkov, our Sun Summoner." he looked at her, those pools of grey catching her breath. "Miss Starkov, may I introduce you to Nina Zenik. She is one of my best agents and has just recently returned from an assignment in Shu Han."

The woman's green eyes settled on Alina, taking her in. Something glittered in there.

"So, she is real after all."

"Would I lie to you?" was The Darkling's reply.

"You forgot to mention how pretty she is." Nina ignored him, taking a long, stealth step towards her and catching a tendril of Alina's dark hair in her fingers.

"Um, it's a pleasure to meet you." The Sun Summoner managed to say, nervous under the woman scrutiny.

"Oh, a pleasure indeed, sun bean." Nina smiled, amusement shining in her eyes as Alina's face heated up. "I can't wait to make your acquaintance."

Before Alina could even think of an answer -for the woman's pretty eyes were too distracting- The Darkling cleared his throat.

"Not for some time, I am afraid." he said. Alina finally turned her gaze to him. There was something dark and intense in the way he was staring at Nina's back, his jaw tense. "Miss Starkov has quite the busy schedule."

Alina felt Genya tensing beside her. Nina's eyes slid momentarily, as if she could see The Darkling behind her, and nodded, winking at her before receding.

"Certainly. I can only imagine." she turned a charming smile on him. "Should we discuss my mission in private?"

"Of course." he answered almost, almost too quickly. He made a gesture for her to go in first.

"See you around, sun bean."

Alina choked on her own saliva as she struggled to say her farewell.

Ivan left with them without even glancing in their direction; Fedyor was kind enough to give them each a courteous smile.

Genya was giggling like an idiot.

"Shut up."

Now she was laughing.

During their training one day, Alina decided to pair up with her. Many grisha gave her a myriad of odd looks, and for a moment, Alina feared she might be about to face another Zoya.

Nina seemed to not to notice them and beckoned her forward.

People seemed to like Nina, Alina observed. The woman had charm and wit; the Sun Summoner really had to try to not get jealous of those traits. She reminded herself that Nina had been at the Little Palace for years, not one season and a half.

They circled each other, taking their measures.

Alina didn't want to be the one to strike first. That always had seemed to go wrong thus far, so she waited.

The heartrender went to the left, so Alina turned, only to be tricked as she received a blow on her right. She winced and stood back, more alert. She didn't want to make a ridicule again.

"You're small and skinny." the heartrender whispered. Alina arched an eyebrow. "I'm bigger and stronger, so your best option is to tire me out."

"I'm not exactly the fastest person."

Nina threw a punch and, luckily, Alina blocked it successfully.

She shook her head.

"Speed and resistance don't need to go hand in hand."

Alina didn't dare to look around to see if anyone else could hear them. She hoped not. Botkin would most certainly disapprove of his students giving each other advice on how to defeat them.

So, with Nina's words in mind, Alina did her best to block and recede. She tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to punch and kick, and received a wince and an "ouch" as Nina rubbed her calf.

The Summoner could feel everyone still watching, Marie and Nadia cheering her on; Sergei and Michail more reserved since she was fighting a fellow red sporter.

Then, Alina caught a glimpse. It was a second, and before she even knew it, she was taking a chance.

Nina was placing her foot down, twisting it as if to test it, and the next she was laying on her back, Alina having all but hurled herself at the woman, grabbing her middle section with all her strength and pushing.

They landed on the ground, and in the disbelief, the Summoner almost forgot to fully immobilize her opponent the way Botkin had taught her.

"You know," Nina gasped, the breath having abandoned her lungs. "There's better ways to get on top of me, sun bean, but if you like it rough-"

Alina blushed in embarrassment, both for having potentially hurt her and for the path those words were leading to.

"Are you alright?" she interrupted hurriedly. "Did I hurt you?"

Nina tried to laugh and cried instead.

"Shit, sun bean. You do have some strength in that tiny body after all."

"Alright!" Botkin clapped his hands twice, coming over toward them. "The little girl wins again, …finally."

Alina was almost offended. At least Marie and Nadia were cheering, as were some others Etherealki. She noticed Sergei and Michail exchanging some coins and scowled.

"Healer." she called, and one hurried to Nina's side.

"It's just a broken rib." the woman said, setting herself to work.

Nina raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I'm impressed, sun bean. I didn't actually think you'd win."

Alina found a new hiding spot where to practice her summoning. It was a most secluded corner, surrounded by old trees, an unkept stone bench and a dirty sculpture of a woman.

She really wanted to be offended.

With eyes wide, she forgot all about her practice, raced and jumped in, laughing childishly to herself.

She looked up and took in the warmth of the sun with pleasure, her face basking in it as her hands ran through leaves and sticks. It was actually a little uncomfortable, but fun.

She almost wished she could sink in and stay there forever, with the sun warming her body and the crunchy leaves all around her.

There was a big pile of leaves.

"Did you fall?"

A shadow took the light from her face, and she found The Darkling standing over her, looking down with something akin to curiosity.

"No. I just jumped."

"Into a pile of dirt?"

"It's not dirt. Besides, it's fun!" she extended a hand. "Wanna try?"

He huffed. Her cheeks heated up. She should've known better.

He took her hand and pulled her up, the mere contact making everything about him feel more intense as usual.

She held onto him.

"How did you find me?"

"You are my Sun Summoner; did you really think I would let you wander about the palace grounds unguarded?"

"Do you have me followed?" she had never noticed.

"For your safety."

"I thought this was the safest place in all of Ravka."

"I am not taking any chances with you, Alina." he replied, eyes guarded, face soft.

"Well, I've never noticed them."

"It means they are doing a good job. I would not want you to live scared, looking over your shoulder all the time."

"I might as well start now that I know."

He opened his mouth and then closed it, thumb rubbing the back of her hand. Alina wondered if he noticed what he was doing.

"You are right." he stepped closer, pulling a leaf off her hair. "But you need not fear, especially while I am on the palace grounds."

"Because not even the dumbest drüskelle would dare to cross paths with you?"

"Nor would the boldest noble."

Alina frowned. The nobles of Os Alta?

She nodded slowly.

"I have scared you." he stated, studying her face. "I apologize."

"No, no." she let go of his hand. "You just made me wearier."

"That is just how life at court is." he offered, not unkindly. "This is not just an army sometimes, especially for you and I."

Alina looked at him, questioning.

"There is no one else like us, Alina." he said, approaching her once more. The calmness, the facts were gone, replaced by a fire she wanted to step into. The vehemence in his voice made her shiver and want to take refuge in his cloak. "There never will be."

She thought about it. What exactly did he mean by that?

He reached out again and plucked another leaf from her hair, then took her face in his hands. She tilted her head up, desperate for a look into those eyes.

Her heart drummed on her ribcage, wanting to break free.

"I-" words failed her as he studied her face, like she was something unique he wanted to memorize.

His thumb ran over her lips, and she exhaled heavily at the feel.

"I forgot what I came here to tell you." he whispered in confidence, his eyes on her parted lips.

"I don't care."

One of his hands left her face and wrapped around her waist, pressing her against his hard chest. Alina almost gasped, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. He pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, hiding the conflict she had briefly witnessed there.

Alina made a choice.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

He reciprocated immediately, holding her tighter and pushing his tongue inside her mouth, demanding a dominance she was more than willing to give him.

She had been kissed, but never like this. It was a first kiss that felt like the last; its intensity so beautifully crushing and chaotic. It was like he was a missing part of her, long searched for and finally found. It was like she was the most precious, addictive treasure, something to be cherished and corrupted at the same time.

Alina was willing to let him do as he wanted with her.

Her hands pulled at his hair, earning a growl. Their eyes met briefly, the desire in them fighting to see whose was grander, before kissing again.

It was like he wanted to pull her closer still, the barrier of clothes too much. Something told Alina that the lack of them wouldn't satisfy either of them anyways.

He kissed her jaw, travelling his way up to her earlobe.

"You make me weak." he whispered harshly, only to proceed to ravish the parts of her neck that were exposed.

"You make me strong." she answered, craning her neck to give him better access.

Growling, he gave her ass a hard squeeze and pushed her back against a tree. She could feel the tug and crunches of the leaves as he buried his hands in her hair but didn't care.

She wanted more.

And more.

She drew his lips back to hers. He reached for the belt which held her kefta closed.

"Sir!"

The next thing Alina knew was that she was standing against a tree, her back aching and her body cold, yet her face hot.

She looked at The Darkling, who seemed almost unperturbed as he smoothly fixed his hair and clothes, standing at a respectable distance from her.

Ivan appeared, seeming to be in a hurry.

Alina narrowed her eyes at him. As if she didn't dislike him enough already, the little shit.

"Moi Soverennyi, you are needed in the king's counsel immediately."

"Tell that grump I shall be there shortly."

Ivan bowed and left, not even acknowledging Alina's presence.

The Darkling cleared his throat. She turned her dark gaze on him, cheeks burning against the cold air, lips probably bruised.

What had just happened?

She wasn't sure, but she wanted to do it again. The Darkling, on the other hand, remained stoic as he stared into her eyes, as if nothing had occurred between them.

"I understand that you have been training on your own;" he said, as if he were talking to any other grisha, ever polite and smooth, voice reassuring yet commanding." I shall speak to Baghra so you may return to your lessons."

"But I don't wann-"

With him gone, the early winter sun felt cold.

"Miss Starkov." he bowed to her respectfully and marched away, disappearing from view within seconds.

Click here for chapter 6

#shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone #Alina starkov #the darkling #aleksander morozova #darkling x alina #alina x aleksander #alina x darkling #genya safin #nina zenik #fedyor kaminsky #fanfic

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bittykimmy13 · 3 years

Text

The Candescent King (GT Story)

Premise: Sequel to "The Clandestine Queen". Andres returns to the hotel and is forced to confront the reality of Lorelei's life as a trinket.

Hi, I am now fully obsessed with Andres and Lorelei and I would die for them.

Warnings: dehumanization and threat of sexual assault

The print / trinket universe belongs to me and the lovely @little-miss-maggie / @marydublin5 <3 Y’all have her to thank for the ending scene! The story almost ended much differently :’)

(( Read more about the print and trinket universe here! ))

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He had certain expectations when he returned to the Onyx Citadel Hotel for the fourth time in two years. It was nightfall when he arrived. The lobby was decorated tastefully in black-and-white to honor the winter tournament. He headed straight for his suite rather than stop and interact with the other arriving players. As expected, the staff had already dropped off his belongings in the room.

However, she was not there.

He had known this day would come eventually, so why was there an involuntary chill running down his spine when he thought of the most obvious answer for her absence?

Moving mechanically, he went for the door. He had to be certain.

The elevator ride down, his thoughts were an odd mix of racing and frozen. He wasn't upset, he assured himself. He had no reason to be. They had both known this day would come, so why did it bother him so much? He battled his confusion as he made his way through the lobby. In the center, he saw some familiar tournament players gathered around a chessboard loaded with trinkets. He averted his eyes, striding for the front desk.

"May I help you, sir?" asked the woman behind the counter.

"Where is the trinket?"

Her friendly smile wavered with confusion. "I'm sorry?"

He sighed. "I don't recognize you. My name is Andres Soto. I have competed in the last three semi-annual tournaments. The staff knows to place the trinket known as Queenie in my room along with my luggage. But she is not there."

"Oh! Aren't you the reigning champion?" When he didn't respond, she pursed her lips and frowned in thought. "Queenie... The orange-haired gal? I apologize, sir, but she isn't available."

The chill in his spine should have dissipated now that he had an answer. But it stayed locked in place. "I see."

"Shall I put in a request at the bar to have another trinket sent to your room, Mr. Soto?"

"No." Andres started to pull away, but he supposed he owed it to Lorelei to at least ask. "Tell me what happened to her. A careless guest?"

The woman blinked, then gave a startled laugh. "She's not dead, Mr. Soto! She's just occupied."

Relief and frustration mingled in his gut. "Occupied? Why wasn't she sent to my room?"

"I'm terribly sorry. There was a massive change in management and employment in the past couple of months. I suppose whoever was making your... trinket arrangements must not have passed on the instructions. I'll be sure to let the bar and restaurant know that Queenie will be prioritized to you once she's available."

"You're going to make me wait," he deadpanned rather than asked. You know I'm the champion, and you're denying my request? He clenched his jaw to keep the comment in. It would only cause problems. His tone and expression, however, worked wonders.

Her voice became even more placating as she pointed across the lobby. "If you'd like to see her, she should be right over there," she said.

Andres shoved himself away from the front desk without another word and approached the small group gathered around the center board that had been set up. Two players, three eager observers. Plenty of room for him to see. He walked up with his hands in his pockets, eyeing the board with a sneer. He had made it a point to never be in the vicinity of a game of trinket chess, and it looked precisely the way he had imagined.

It was the most trinkets he had ever seen gathered so close together. Thirty-two were on the table, each of them scantily clothed in colors that reflected their team and designated piece. Red pawns. Yellow rooks. Green knights. Blue bishops. Purple royalty.

In no time at all, his eyes zeroed in on Lorelei. She was the queen, naturally, wearing sheer black lingerie with purple accents.

And she spotted him, too. He suspected she would be smart and pretend not to recognize him, but to his surprise, she threw a minuscule hand over her head and waved it enthusiastically. Her stance was unsteady, a carefree grin plastered on her face.

Drunk.

"Hey!" she called. "Tall, dark, and scary! Hi! I had a dream about you the other night!"

Very drunk.

The players and the small audience followed her gaze with confusion. Their eyes widened when they realized who had come to observe them. He gave the faintest nod of acknowledgment, ignoring Lorelei's whoops for attention.

"Gentlemen," he murmured.

"Soto." Theo Jackson, the man playing black, did not bother hiding the irk on his face. Andres couldn't blame him; coming in 2nd place twice in a row did that to a person. "Thought you'd decide this little tournament was below your rating by now. What are you still doing, coming back here?"

Andres shrugged. "I like to win. But don't mind me. Carry on."

They settled back into the game. He tried to watch with a neutral expression, but at least any visible disgust on his face was to be expected from him. Lorelei was a mess, nearly stumbling into the neighboring square every time the board was jostled by the players' movements. The bishop beside her kept grabbing her arm to steady her.

The trinkets were plucked up and moved like pieces. Each one of them looked either frightened or entirely checked-out. But when they were captured by the opposing side and taken off the board, their relief was visible. That was, except for the pieces Jackson captured. His hands had a tendency to wander to his captured pieces while he thought of his next move.

Being the queen, Lorelei was likely to be in the game for the long haul. Andres thought about walking away. The front desk woman had promised the trinket would be delivered to him later, but something kept him rooted there. It was a strange stab of betrayal, having gotten to know her and now seeing her debase herself. It wasn't her fault, but he had the urge to correct obscenity nonetheless. Especially considering how hell-bent she seemed on getting herself killed.

"Psst." She turned around and waved both hands up at Jackson. "Listen! You've got an opening right there, and you don't see it, do you? You're blowing it. Move me to A4, c'mon!"

"Shut the fuck up." Jackson forcefully turned her back around and flicked her between the shoulder blades, sending her onto her hands and knees.

The bishop gasped and leaned down to check if she was alright.

"No, don't help her," Jackson snapped. The bishop straightened immediately. "Little bitch needs to learn her place."

Lorelei's shoulders wracked and she caught her breath. Andres was a live wire of tension, trying to talk himself down from lunging in and taking her away. The tension eased as she stood up and rolled her shoulders as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, the player on white looked remarkably nervous, staring at the board and obviously mapping out the plan Lorelei had offered.

Jackson went quiet, doing the same. Then he snorted, "Whaddaya know." He plucked up Lorelei and moved her to A6. The game was over in less than three moves after that.

Lorelei was the piece to catch the king in checkmate. She skipped over and looped her arm in his, raising her eyebrows at Jackson. "See? What did I tell you?"

"That's not right," the other player spat. "You had help!"

Jackson scoffed. "As if this was a real match. Besides, are you insinuating that a fucking trinket helped me? I was going to move her there anyway."

"Fuck you, I was about to have you cornered." The other player stood up and stormed off. He wouldn't last long in the tournament with a blatant temper like that.

"Who's next?" Jackson declared.

"I am," Andres said before anyone had time to take a breath.

He slid into the seat, glancing down as the pieces dutifully rearranged themselves where they belonged. Lorelei stumbled back to her spot and smiled right at him. At least she didn't wave or yell for him. He had seen her on a board plenty of times, facing him, but never like this. He could see the trinkets on his side casting wary glances up over their shoulders at him, trying to get a read on their current master. One split second of eye contact was all it took to make them face forward again.

Lorelei, in her idiotic state, turned to face Jackson and planted a hand on her hip. "I hope you're ready to get your ass whupped," she said.

His expression darkened, and Andres wouldn't have been surprised if she was broken in half right then and there. But Jackson slid a smirk to Andres. "Am I sensing some history here? Oh, Soto. You've always acted like some kind of moral paragon. No wonder you turn down every drink with a trinket. You've only got eyes for this little bite, huh?"

Andres regarded him coolly. "She was delivered to my room one night against my wishes and has plagued me ever since. Are we playing or not?"

"No one's stopping you from starting."

Sighing, Andres leaned forward and studied the untouched board. He knew Jackson's strategies well enough to put him away swiftly, but he would need a different approach this time. His hand automatically reached for the board, but he paused when he remembered these were not carved pieces of wood. Hiding a wince, he tapped one of the pawns on the back. The young man spun around and looked up, eyes wide under Andres' shadow.

"You, move to E4," Andres ordered.

The pawn swallowed hard. "I-I'm sorry, I-I don't know where—"

Gathering nonexistent patience, Andres tapped the board. "Move here. Two spaces forward."

The pawn hurried to obey, eyes trained down.

Despite his attempts to focus on the game itself, Andres couldn't help but wonder what each of the white pieces on his board had done to land their fate. Murderers, traitors, those who had no place in society. He glanced across the board at Lorelei, who was swaying to music that wasn't there. She perked up when they locked gazes, and he was almost saddened by the strange hope in her eyes. With her inhibitions decimated, it was all too clear how much she trusted him.

He glanced at the pieces on the board again and wondered, How many innocents?

His thoughts shattered when Jackson snatched up a pawn of his own without warning, seeming to savor the way the girl whimpered and squirmed in the tight pinch of his fingers.

"Settle down, darling," he crooned. "You're expendable. The game will be over for you soon." When he set her down on the board, she hugged her arms and trembled, tears streaking down her face.

Andres tore his eyes away from her. Nothing he could do.

He made foolish moves from then on, but they were perfectly calculated. His primary goal for once was not to win; he only wished to capture the queen. It was child's play to reach Lorelei, considering any player's strategy would focus on protecting the king. He ordered the pieces where to go, pointing and nudged if he needed to. When he captured Jackson's pieces, he made them walk to him rather than snatching them up.

Jackson smirked each time Andres refused to grab the trinkets, making a show of picking up his own pieces and taking an unreasonable amount of time to decide his move. He held them in his palm, toyed with him while deep in thought.

Finally, Andres captured Lorelei. He had to resist the urge to pluck her up. Jackson would undoubtedly notice the special treatment.

"Come over here," Andres said, beckoning her to move among the other pawns and the knight he had captured.

"Yessir." She pranced over to him, giving a clumsy twirl and making a rude gesture at Jackson so that only Andres could see it. She took a seat behind his side of the board, and he paid no mind to the triumphant smile she aimed up at him.

His next strategy was to make it a point to capture as many pieces as possible. Once he had a small crowd of black pieces on his side of the table, it was easy enough to discreetly drop a hand over Lorelei and sweep her away from the others. He moved her to his lap under the table. With people watching around him, slipping her into his pocket would be too noticeable. He let her go on his thigh, praying she wasn't foolishly drunk enough to fall off. He could feel her tiny weight, along with the slightest tremble. Not from fear, though—he had a feeling she was giggling to herself.

From then on, it was business as usual. He managed to corner Jackson and capture the king despite his seemingly sloppy plays at the beginning. With the queen gone, anyway, there was hardly a contest.

Huffing, Jackson glared at what remained of his chess pieces, as if they had anything to do with his loss. Then he turned that irked look to Andres. "You really shouldn't be here," Jackson said. "You know you're gonna clean up. Give someone else a chance, would you?"

"Maybe you should work on your strategies," Andres returned.

Before Jackson could snap back, someone from the group piped up, "Mr. Soto, can I play a round with you?"

He shook his head. "I'm going to my room to relax before the opening social." He cupped a hand around Lorelei so that she smoothly fell into his palm when he stood. He strode away, arm relaxed at his side, and his fist closely loosely.

He waited by the elevators until he could catch one alone. When the doors were sealed, he lifted his hand and unfurled his fingers enough to see her. Lorelei sat up and leaned back on her hands, a flirtatious smile on her lips that was entirely unlike her—at least when she was with him.

"Hello again," she slurred. "My hero."

"You're drunk," he said. "How disappointing. I was hoping we could play a few matches tonight." He shook his head, observing her unfocused eyes. "It would not be fair to you."

She waved a hand at him. "Ah, don't be so dramatic. I was on bar duty before the tournament players started arriving. I'm fine."

The elevator came to a stop. Lorelei scrambled to the edge of Andres' hand and vomited over the side. Some landed on his shoe. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled sheepishly at his unimpressed expression.

"My bad," she said. "I swear I wasn't aiming there."

Breathing out sharply, he exited the elevator and headed for his suite. He took her straight to the lounger by the coffee table, laying out a pillow and setting her down on it.

"Sleep it off, Señorita Lorelei. I have a social I must attend. Will you be fine in three hours?"

"Probably." She stretched her arms over her head and laid asprawl. "And for the thousandth time, call me Lore."

Despite the state she was in, he imagined she wouldn't stay drunk for long. Trinkets rose back to soberness much quicker than natural people. Andres wasn't sure if it was an automatic side effect of their size or an intentional feature of their engineering to ensure they couldn't soothe themselves with inebriation for too long.

He stepped into the bedroom to change his shoes. As he headed back for the door to leave, she waved her hand to get his attention.

"No blanket?" She pouted. "I'm cold, you monster."

He rolled his eyes. "Shall I tuck you in and sing you a lullaby, too? You are demanding tonight."

"That's what you get for treating me like a person, Señor Andres. Now I've got all these sick and dangerous thoughts in my head about wanting to be comfortable."

"Well, stop it."

"No, sir. They're my sick and dangerous thoughts, and you can't take them away. Besides, you owe me."

He dug through one of his bags beside the coffee table until he found a silk handkerchief. "I saved you," he pointed out.

"Out of the kindness of your heart? Please. You owe me because you're going to get me in trouble, making me magically vanish like that. In fact, I'm sure there is sheer chaos downstairs over a kidnapped queen. They'll think I'm a runner."

"I'll tell the front desk I collected you." He braced his hands on either side of the cushion and leaned over her. "Would you like to write a script for me? Should I say you are too enchanting to resist, and I needed you all to myself tonight?" He dropped the handkerchief over her.

She squirmed under the fabric until she found her way out—which took twice as long as it should have. "Perfect, couldn't have scripted it better myself. Try to sound like you mean it, though." He snorted and started to pull away. "Wait!" she said. "Speaking of saving me. Can I tell you about the dream I had about you? Very quick."

He sighed. "What?"

"I dreamed..." She lowered her voice to a whisper, forcing him to lean closer. "That you stole me away from here. And we played chess day and night. And you still never beat me. It was lovely."

He didn't know how to feel or what to say. She had never been like this. Never said anything like this. And the way she looked at him... Her little eyes bright and naive over the edge of his handkerchief. He did not enjoy this drunken version of Lorelei Weaver. Not in the slightest.

"Sleep it off," he murmured again. "I want you ready to play when I get back." Then he made his escape.

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The moment she started to come to, her face flushed. She couldn't remember everything with clarity, but she remembered enough to be embarrassed. Groaning low in her throat, she sat up and used the corner of the handkerchief to wipe the dry crust from the corner of her lips. Maybe if Andres wasn't too disgusted with her, she could wheedle a drop of mouthwash from him.

Footsteps thudded toward the room. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been roughly three hours since she passed out. Straightening her back, she smoothed her hair down and folded her hands on her lap. Although her head was clear, it ached.

"Oh, good," she said when Andres stalked into the room. "I thought I had only hallucinated seeing your grumpy face. How bad was the social? Did they make you..." She shuddered dramatically. "Mingle?"

"Well, you clearly feel better." He approached the lounger and didn't bother kneeling for her sake. He never did. More of the looming type. "What did you think you were doing, getting drunk like that?"

A faint, scalding smile perked on her lips. "I was forced to. The guest I was lucky enough to get saddled with likes his trinkets good and giddy. Is that fair enough for you?"

"Fair enough." His expression didn't change, other than something at the back of his eyes that was too far away to see. "It's good that you're fine now. They want to see you downstairs at the bar to make sure you have not escaped." His hand dove for her.

"Wait!" she cried. He paused, frowning. "I've had enough today. I'm not in the mood to be manhandled any more. Can't you... lay your hand down or something?"

"Why?"

"Easier on my ribs and my ego, believe it or not." She pressed her lips into a tight line and glowered straight up at him. "Doesn't seem like too much to ask for you to lay your damn hand down."

Looking like a kid forced to eat his vegetables, he dropped his hand beside her. She climbed on, and he swept her up not a moment after she settled. She grabbed at his fingers to keep from tumbling off. Already she missed the safety of the handkerchief, but the warmth of his skin was a fair substitute.

They didn't speak as he took her downstairs to the bar, where a few players were sipping on drinks, laughing, cutting up. She adopted her usual pose on her knees, shoulders back, eyes down. From her glances, she recognized a few of the players—both from her days as a human and from her evening of being their queen piece in the lobby.

"Here she is," Andres said to the bartender. "Satisfied?" He thrust her out in his open palm.

The bartender lurched back, looking from Lorelei to Andres, stammering. "I'll get the manager. Would you like a drink while you wait, Mr. Soto?"

"No."

As the bartender walked off, the man seated closest scoffed. "Well, that's a damn shame."

Theo Jackson. Lorelei kept her head turned away as if there was any hope that he might not recognize her.

Apparently tired of holding her, Andres lowered her to the bar counter. She nearly asked him to pluck her right back up, ribs and ego or not. She couldn't help but look at Jackson, going cold at the lust in his eyes as he tipped back his drink and reached for the other that had been laid out for him.

"What shame?" Andres asked boredly. She wanted to scream at him for indulging Jackson.

Jackson pointed at her with the hand that held his scotch. "Pretty little thing like that, and you don't even have a drink to put her in. I knew you swiped her. Figured you'd at least be putting her to good use."

"Mr. Soto." A woman interrupted, approaching from the other side of the bar and putting her hand out to shake. Andres had to step to the side to reach her. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Now, about the trinket. An employee is retrieving a case. You are welcome to enjoy your regular trinket during your stay, but it's required that she remain in the case when you're not around—"

"Yes, yes, I know the rules."

Despite that, she went on. Lorelei edged closer to where Andres had moved, feeling exposed. A second after the dreadful sensation came over her, a hand shot across the bar and snatched her up. Jackson covered her scream before she could let it loose, bringing her further down the bar, further from Andres. He hushed her gently, pinning her to the counter and keeping her muzzled. His fingers were cold from the chilled glass.

"What's the trouble, darling?" His voice was much sweeter now that he wasn't playing chess. "Soto doesn't know how to treat you right. And you've got my attention. Isn't that wasn't you wanted, pulling that cool little move during my game?" He brushed a fingertip along her side, controlling her with only one hand while the other lifted the drink to his lips for another sip. "You must get played with a lot at these tournaments to know the game so well."

While she squirmed and tried to buck her way free, he leaned down closer. The stench of whiskey wafted around her.

"Why don't we go up to my room, and I show you a thing or two in return?"

He reached under her lingerie. She bit the fingertip covering her mouth. It was barely anything, but he flinched all the same and allowed her to scream.

"Stop!" she yelped.

"What are you doing?" Andres barked.

A shadow descended upon them. The drink was swiped to the ground, Andres' hand crashing into it like a freight train. Glass shattered. The pressure of Jackson's hand vanished. Lorelei scrambled backward on her hands and rear, gasping for breath as she watched Andres and Jackson come to blows.

Jackson shoved Andres into the bar, making it rattle like an earthquake. Lorelei ducked down and covered her head, peeking over her knees as Andres landed a brutal punch to Jackson's stomach.

"Stop!" the manager screamed, backing away to the other side of the bar. "Stop now! Or we'll get security! You'll be arrested!"

Andres grabbed the front of Jackson's shirt and then shoved him away, seething.

Coughing, Jackson leaned on the bar. "What are you, a fucking sympathizer?" he spat, face contorting with disgust.

"Not in the slightest," Andres growled. "But she is mine."

"Mr. Soto," the manager said in a quavering voice. "You could be disqualified—"

"No," Jackson said. "No. I'm not pressing charges or reporting this or anything. I wanna face this fucker during the finals."

A very confused-looking hotel employee walked up holding a glass trinket case. Andres pulled away from the bar and snatched the case before reaching for Lorelei. There was no waiting for her to climb on this time. He closed her in a fist and stormed off. Even over the sound of his footsteps, Lorelei heard the manager offer Jackson a complimentary trinket for his troubles.

All the way to the room, Andres did not lift his fist from his side. She couldn't help but tremble, replaying the events of the fight over and over in her mind. These weren't the carefully calculated moves of a chess game; this was chaos. Utter chaos that she had never expected to manifest in him. She had gotten so used to his collected prowess on the board that she hadn't imagined what he could do in a physical fight.

He entered his suite and put her down on the lounger. She wasn't surprised at all when he immediately began setting up his chessboard on the coffee table. She would have asked him to do it if he hadn't.

"One match before bed," he said. "I need to rest before the first round tomorrow."

Lorelei stayed quiet, hugging her knees as she watched him arrange the pieces. With each clack of wood on the board, she pictured him driving his fists into Jackson. He glanced at her every few seconds, looking like he was working himself up to say something. Then he would think better of it.

Finally, when the board was ready, he spoke.

"Did I frighten you?" he asked without the smallest measure of apology.

"Does it matter?"

"Are you too distracted to play?"

"Never."

"Then it does not matter."

He walked around the coffee table to the lounger and reached for her. He stopped short and turned his hand over beside her, offering his palm instead. She chuckled mirthlessly and scooted over to climb on. "Well, look at that. He can be taught."

She took the white team and started the game. In no time, she felt at home among the light-up squares and smooth wooden pieces. There was no rust to shake off from her strategy. No uncertainty. Since his second visit, she had been given a reason to keep her chess mind sharp.

He, however, was the one who seemed distracted as she paced around the pieces. She was well on her way to beating him in less than twenty-five moves.

"Your move," she declared when his expression stayed distant for too long.

He blinked at her, then pushed a hand up his face with a heavy sigh. "Lorelei..."

"Lore."

"Lore. When I said you were mine..." He heaved another sigh. "I want to make something perfectly clear. I hope you don't really have any fanciful ideas about me taking you away from here. I will not put myself at risk like that."

She pursed her lips and pointed at the board. "Your move."

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, then slumped forward with his elbows on his knees. "Listen to me, Lore. This is the last time you'll see me here. You understand?"

She did understand. She understood that this was the first time he had seen her life outside the safety that his visits provided. She understood that he had seen the aftermath of a regular afternoon on bar duty for her. She understood that he had seen what people like Jackson did when they got their hands on her. She understood that none of it was enough to make him take the risk for her.

"This tournament is far below your rating," she said, folding her hands behind her back and strolling along the edge of the board away from him. She peeked back over her shoulder. "I was surprised you showed up at all."

"I have you to thank for my improved rating. But you are correct. I have no business at this tournament anymore."

She turned around, wishing so badly that this didn't hurt the way it did. "Then why are you here?"

His eye contact did not waver. He straightened up and looked down at her. "Because you are the best I've played in my life. Perhaps the best I ever will play. I am determined to beat you before the tournament is over. I have lost sleep over you, Señorita Lorelei. I would like to sleep soundly again. Please don't ruin it with your fanciful thoughts."

"They're my fanciful thoughts, Señor Andres. And you can't take them away. They're all I have." She pointed at the board once more, determined to memorize every last turn of their final games together. "Your move."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ *~ *

The morning after the tournament finals, Lorelei awoke unsure of her surroundings. She wasn't in the hotel room. Not in the cylindrical container the staff supplied Andres. She should have awoken to the sound of housekeeping knocking at the door, but instead she heard a cacophony of voices.

Motion caught her attention. Swaying. Footsteps.

Realizing she was in a pocket, she all but shot to her feet to get a look at who was holding her. Had Andres left her outside the room for some random guest to sweep up and torment? That didn't seem like him, even if he had been particularly sulky during their last night together when he still failed to beat her.

Bracing herself, she peeked up from the coat.

A familiar face. His dark eyes shot from the phone in his hand to the fact poking out of his jacket. Andres shot her a sharp look, then typed away at his phone. He lowered it enough for her to see.

"Don't get excited. This is not a rescue, I'm stealing a private tutor."

She had only half a second to read it before his hand filled her vision. He pushed her back down, one finger pressing her belly as if to tell her stay. Then his hand withdrew, and his steps resumed. Her heart hammered as the sound of an airline announcement caught her ear.

Finally, he had made a move she did not predict.

#giant/tiny #gt #g/t #giant #tiny #gt writing #gt story #print universe #the candescent king #lorelei #andres #mywriting

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bbrandy2002 · 4 years

Text

Fools Rush In

Part 4

Series: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x OC (Riley)

Previous chapters can be found here.

Series Premise: With two weeks until Liam is to marry Madeleine, the guys throw him a bachelor party in Vegas. As a drunken night, he finds himself with way more than he bargained for.

MC did not exist in Liam’s social season. OC Riley Brooks lives in Las Vegas.

A/N: No wacky drabble for this one. Went a wee bit over and couldn’t cut. Oh well...there’s always next time. This is an 18+ series.

A/N: The lyrics to the song Maxwell sings comes from a Tik Tok video that was shared with me and the idea to include it in this is not my own hahahaha I will post the link to the video in comments to give the maker proper credit and just in case anyone wants to actually watch it. I thought it was funny..

Thanks @burnsoslow for beta reading and all of my lovely pre-readers.

Warning: Mention of STD’s

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____________

All Riley wanted to do was go home, take a hot shower, snuggle up in a blanket on the couch with a Lifetime movie, and carry on with the rest of her life.

She'd had this crazy but exciting night out with a fantastic guy. They had a little too much to drink and woke up the next morning to find they were married to each other.

And she wasn't just married to anyone. No, it had to be the King of a small European country she'd never heard of before.

That's not something that just happened to everyone.

Depending on how one viewed her circumstances she was either the luckiest or unluckiest woman in all of Vegas.

If she were a betting person, she'd place money on the latter.

Riley stood at the penthouse door, engaged in a stare down with the blonde-haired obstacle blocking the exit.

In front of her was a woman wearing a black and white fur coat, a strand of pearls that hung loosely around her neck, and an impudent scowl.

If evil were a lady, Riley surmised she was looking at her.

Madeleine's green eyes bore agitation and scorn as she studied the petite figure she recognized from the dozens of photos that bombarded her text messages.

"You must be the bimbo who thinks she will steal my crown and title."

"Excuse me?" Riley's eyes narrowed, not knowing who she was speaking to, but could already tell she didn’t care to know.

Leo stepped up protectively behind Riley and growled at the countess. "Go away, Madeleine! How many times do we have to tell you the dalmatians aren't for sale?"

"You wish I were here for dalmatians," Madeleine sneered. "Now, out of my way, heathens."

She pushed her way past the two and stalked inside while Mara shuffled behind. She removed her cashmere gloves and took notice of her fiance with his back pressed against the bar top, one legs crossed over the other, and sipping casually on his scotch.

Liam tipped the glass to his lips as if he didn't have a care in the world and swallowed. "Can I offer you a glass of wine, dear? Or a cronut? Perhaps a ride to the middle of the desert to be left for dead?"

"That's quite alright," Madeleine quipped as she ripped the glass out of Liam's hand and slammed it down on the bar. "But maybe you'd like to first explain why I have been inundated with one message after the next telling me you were married to this ..." She motioned her hand toward Riley with derision. "This ... bitch?"

Liam paused as if he were thinking about it, then shook his head. "No. Not really." She's not a bitch ... she's amazing. He wondered why he couldn't say that out loud.

Stunned, Riley looked up at Leo in disbelief. "Did she really just call me a bitch? She doesn't even know me."

Leo nodded with a compassionate smile on his face, then pulled her further inside and shut the door.

He wasn't about to let her go now.

Liam grabbed his drink, pushed himself off the bar, and strolled to the center of the room. He could feel Madeleine's icy glare following his every movement. The King hoped his flippant attitude was enough to penetrate deep into her frozen exterior and piss her off even more. "I thought you were in New York, Mads. 8 million people in that city for you to torment, and you still make time to hop on your broomstick and find me. I have to say … I'm touched."

Madeleine shot him a dirty look. "Do you have any idea what I've been through because of what you did last night?"

He shrugged. "Nope, and I don't care."

"Well, you're going to care when I tell you everything that happened." She disregarded the audible groan and eye roll from him as she began her diatribe of offenses. "I had just settled in for the night when I get a message from that simpleton, Penelope, telling me what you did. I tried to call you, but apparently, you and the rest of your entourage of losers blocked my number. So I had this incompetent boob of a guard you hired for me book the first flight out here.

“When I got to JFK, I was detained and strip-searched because someone falsely alerted authorities claiming I was a Colombian drug lord, only in the U.S. to sell cocaine and hypodermic needles to children --"

Leo snorted.

Liam curled his lips into a devilish grin, knowing exactly who did it. He glanced subtly to Mara, who winked back at him.

"Are you even listening to me, Liam? As if that nightmare wasn't horrid enough, I find out Mara booked coach class … COACH! Coach is so beneath someone like me. There were babies and old people and sodas. But the worst was when we finally arrived here; they strip-searched me again. I had to get my own baggage and ride in one of those god-awful smelly shuttle vans to this hotel. And do you know why I had to do all of that? Because you're a complete moron, Liam. The people of Cordonia are laughing at you; you know that, right? I always knew you would be a total embarrassment and fuck up, but this is beyond anything I imagined."

A downcast expression was plastered on Liam's face as he stared down at the drink in his shaky hand. Those words stung -- “a total embarrassment and fuck up.” In his mind, he felt she was right. He had let down even his own expectation of himself and the reputation of the monarchy.

There was nothing to do but stand there and stew in silence.

But Riley wouldn’t.

She shrugged Leo's hand from her shoulder and spun Madeleine around by the arm to face her. "Is this what you do? You go around insulting everyone and being a first-class bitch? I will have you know, Liam is not any of those things. He's the kindest, sweetest man I've ever met. And it's no wonder he looked so miserable last night at the club. I couldn't understand why at first, but now ... now it all makes sense. Did you ever stop to think that maybe if you weren't such a fucking cunt, he wouldn't have been drinking so much and been so willing to accept the company of another woman?"

Liam felt his heart twinge. Riley had every right to be upset with him, and he felt guilty for putting her in this situation. But there she was, defending him. God, she was hot.

Madeleine guffawed. "How cute. You've got your little whore taking up for you now."

"That's enough!" Liam's eyes landed sharply on her. Before he could stop himself, the next few words sprang from his lips as naturally as his breath. "You will not speak to my wife -- your Queen -- like that again, or so help me I will charge you where you stand for treason against the Crown. Do I make myself clear?"

Riley's eyes rounded, unsure of what to say or do at that moment.

Leo loudly cheered and pumped his fist in the air.

Liam stood his ground as he glowered back at his slack-jawed, now ex-fiancee.

Madeleine couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You can't be serious? We are getting married in two weeks. I'm going to be the Queen!" Her tone was one of anger and desperation.

He laughed wryly in her face. "Not anymore."

He looked past a stunned Madeleine to the heedless guard smirking behind her. "Mara, please see to it that the countess returns to the airport and doesn't disturb us again."

She agreed and led a vociferously-protesting Madeleine toward the doorway.

"You'll regret this, Liam. You'll both pay for this travesty!"

"Use the taser on her, Mara!" Leo bounced with excitement as he followed them and opened the door. He handed the guard a $100 bill as she walked by and whispered, "Make sure they strip search her again. A bonus if they need double gloves and lube."

"You got it, boss."

Leo slammed the door and clapped. "Ding-dong, the witch is gone! So. Do you need help packing, sis? We still have a couple of hours before we go back to Cordonia. That should be enough time to gather some things."

Riley stammered, looking between the two men, completely dumbfounded by what just took place.

Liam noticed. He knew what he said to Madeleine about her being his wife and Queen was most likely awkward for her.

They didn't know each other; it was a fact, he continued to remind himself.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. "Uh, Riley ... I just want you to know ... I only said that stuff because of Madeleine ..."

"Oh, yes. Of course. I knew that." She chuckled nervously and waved her hand. "But what about your engagement?"

"Yeah, Liam. You gotta have a queen." Leo clapped the back of one hand against the palm of the other and exclaimed, "Dem's da rules."

Liam shook his head and carried his empty glass to the open kitchen. "I know that, Leo. But I will not ask Riley to give up her life here just to help me clean up my mess. She deserves better than that."

Riley crossed her arms on the counter that looked into the kitchen, watching Liam get a bottled water from the fridge. "What happens if you don't have a Queen?"

Liam twisted the cap and gave a half-shrug. "I don't have a choice. I'll have to marry Madeleine." The words stung his lips.

"But she's so pissed at you right now."

He chuckled. "That won't stop her. She wants the crown, and that's it."

Riley could see the sadness in his eyes, the same sadness she saw last night in the club where they first met. "You'll be miserable with her, though," she muttered wistfully.

He nodded, regret written on his face. "Yeah."

Riley stood silent; she weighed the pros and cons of such a massive uprooting. Her life had been slightly stalled and bland for the last few years. Las Vegas was her getaway to a new life from New York, where she left behind both regrets and failed relationships. And yet ... this new place wasn't everything she told herself it would be.

She looked at Liam and felt her heart break. She understood him more than he realized.

But ... to be a Queen?

Riley inhaled deeply and prepared to speak up when Liam's phone rang.

He placed the cap on his water, sat it on the counter, and lifted his phone from the pocket of his shorts. "It's Maxwell," he called out.

Leo rushed to him. "Put it on speaker, Li!"

"Maxwell, I have you on speaker. Leo and Riley are with me. How's Drake?"

"He's in the pharmacy, and I'm standing outside getting air. It's going to take a while to amass all the medication and creams he needs."

The brothers looked at each other with wide eyes. Riley covered her mouth to prevent the chuckle that threatened to escape. "I think I'll give you guys some privacy. I'll just be in the bathroom."

Liam nodded and turned his attention back to the call. "Is it really that bad, Max? I mean, I think we know what he has."

"Dudes, I don't think you can even begin to guess half the shit Drake's got."

"You gotta tell us what the Drakester has, Max."

"I'm not really supposed to say."

They could hear the hesitation in his voice. It was almost like he wanted to tell them, but needed a little more coaxing.

"Maxwell," Liam spoke. "If Drake doesn't want us to know, then you should probably keep it to yourself ... for now."

"I did kind of write a song about everything he was diagnosed with for a TikTok video. Drake only said not to tell anyone. He never said I couldn't sing about it."

Leo nodded his head. "Agreed. Sing that song, Beaumont."

They could hear Maxwell shuffle further away from what sounded like a crowded street.

"Okay, the coast is clear," Maxwell said as he took a deep breath. The boys hugged their ears against Liam's cell phone.

"Drake just left the clinic, and I'm afraid its bad news.

So now I'm singing this song about it hoping it gets views.

Don't know how he's still alive.

Or how he survived.

The doctor said he's got five ... nasty STIs.

He's got some in his balls … got some in his ass.

And what's worse is his curly pubes are crawling with crabs.

He's got herpes! From a booty call!

He's got syphilis …now his dick is raw.

He's got chlamydia … And it's so sore.

And he doesn't even know where he got genital warts."

Liam pressed two fingers into both sides of his temples while he stared blankly at his phone. "Un - believable."

Leo swiped the tears from his eyes and made no attempts to hide the giant smile curling his lips or his overwhelming giddiness. "I've never been more proud of the Drakester than I am at this moment. He actually beat me out on this one. Gotta say ... I don't mind losing to him this time."

“Liam. Leo. I gotta go; Drake’s on his way out. See ya back at the hotel.”

Leo went to the refrigerator to search for a snack, pulling out a leftover pizza. “Ya know, we should probably warn the maid she may need to get a haz-mat team before cleaning Drake’s room.”

Riley rounded the corner. “I hope everything is okay with your friend.”

Liam smiled. “That’s very kind of you say. He’ll be fine … I think.”

She fidgeted with her bracelet and glanced over at Leo placing a slice of cold pizza on top of another slice and taking a large bite. “Leo, I hate to ask while you’re eating … again. But would you mind if I spoke to your brother for a moment? Privately.”

Leo chewed quickly while shaking his head. He swallowed hard. “Sure. I needed to use the shitter, anyway. Pinquee Kittee’s casserole isn’t sitting too well in the Leo tummy.” He grabbed the pizza box and headed for the bathroom.

Liam looked curiously at Riley, not able to read her expression or have any clue what she would want to talk about. “You needed to speak with me?”

She nodded. “Yeah. About our marriage ...”

#the royal romance #king liam #choices liam x mc #king Liam x mc #liam x mc #choices fanfiction #trr #trr au fanfic #choices trr #Fools Rush In #bbrandy2002 #tw: std #a lot of stds

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astoria00 · 4 years

Text

Retribution tastes so Sweet

Neo was more than relieved when they finally reached the outskirts of Wind Path.

Jumping swiftly from the sleigh that carried Cinder and her, she smiled a fake smile to the driver.

It had been pure luck that they had found a lumberjack deep in the forest they had traveled into to get away from the Brunswick farms.

‘…Brunswick…’

She knew that name…

Where had she heard it before?

Since escaping those nightmarish Grimm Neo had been a little bit more on edge than usual.

‘Apathy.’

That’s what Cinder called them.

The shorter girl wasn’t as knowledgeable about the different kinds of grimm as her companion was, but for all the monsters, faunus and humans she had fought, nothing had felt as horrible as these Apathy.

The moment all of her fight and willpower had left her, this awful feeling of being abandoned…all alone in the world.

Just like the time she had realized Roman was dead…

And not only that…

Side-eying Cinder from her spot, as she paid the lumberjack some lien to help him forget he ever encountered them, she had to suppress a shudder.

Neo couldn’t help but remember how terrifying the maiden had appeared, how dangerous the golden like aura around her had sparked menacingly all over her body…even her left arm.

And shouldn’t that have been impossible?

Was Cinder now more grimm than human?

Had these horrible powers slumbered inside her all along or were they a recent addition?

She should probably leave.

Who knew what else would happen if she stuck around with the maiden…

This Salem was no one to be trifled with. Of course she had already known that, but this exceeded everything she could have imagined.

Being able to sway and control another being was beyond frightening and furthermore she probably wouldn’t stop. Traveling with Cinder was bound to be even more dangerous now.

By all means, she should get the hell out of here…

And yet…

Thank you!

She had never seen her companion this…broken before.

And hadn’t that been the reason she even hugged her in the first place?

To get her back?

‘I…don’t want to be alone…’

Was that truly the only reason?

Neo wasn’t so sure anymore, to be honest, she wasn’t sure about anything right now, but seeing Cinder like that made her afraid…afraid of losing her altogether.

Even now, watching her worried, almost vulnerable expression filled the short girl with determination.

A yearning to eradicate the maiden’s fears.

As Cinder’s gaze met her stare, Neo had to push down the urge to look away. The maiden looked...tired.

“Can we go now?”

Her voice sounded anything but energetic and she turned away before Neo had the chance to respond. She seemed to be just as unsure after this whole ordeal as Neo.

Neo was still cold, the weather in Wind Path only a fraction more bearable than the farms or Argus.

…well, at least it wasn’t as freezing here.

Suppressing a shudder, she nodded to Cinder’s back, startled as she realized her companion was already on the move. Not for the first time in her life she cursed her inability to talk.

With a scowl the shorter girl followed after her.

They decided to stay at an inn this time around. Dealing with thugs, bandits…or the authorities was far more bearable than another run in with some spooky life draining Grimm.

It didn’t do anything to lift Cinder’s mood though. The whole time she didn’t look anything but miserable, her eye always flitting around from one source to another, judging and gauging possible threats.

It pained Neo to admit it, but she would give anything to get her over the top drama queen back.

But...what could she do?

They decided to get something to eat in one of the shadier looking restaurants. The underground was known to both of them...it felt more secure...in a weird way. In her paranoia, Cinder had them wear some rags over their usual clothes. She couldn’t fault the maiden for being careful, but it did nothing to ease Neo’s own uneasiness. They needed to do something.

Something that would feel normal and fun to both of them…

Lie, steal, cheat and survive.

Roman‘s slogan if you wanted to call it that. Maybe...she could use some of his old advice.

What would he do in her place right now?

‘Do what you do best.‘

Neo hoped Cinder wouldn‘t recognize how nervous she actually felt when she brought up her idea, trying for a nonchalant grin, as she relayed it.

“A robbery?”

Her companion appeared positively flabbergasted, causing Neo‘s grin to widen.

With shining eyes she immediately signed her answer:

/Yes/

Cinder’s eye narrowed in disbelief.

“You do realize that we are wanted criminals, right?”

/Why Cinder, are you afraid of getting caught?/

It felt so easy to sign along now. The maiden for all her huffing and moaning about having to appease her, was quite a fast learner. Neo could practically feel how her nerves calmed with each new sign that greeted her sight.

Cinder was simple enough to rattle if you knew which buttons to push, as she crossed her arms defensively, raising to the bait.

“Not at all, I was just making sure you know what you are getting into.

And where do you propose we strike?”

The short girl tipped her head mysteriously. Reaching over the table she corrected her comapnion‘s signs, her smile softening.

She was definitely a fast learner.

After a dramatic pause that had Cinder glaring daggers at her, Neo leaned closer, forming her next sentence with the maiden‘s very own hands:

[“Have you ever robbed a candy store?”]

She had followed the bowler wearing redhead for quite some time now, still not sure if she should trust him to return her home safely…but the direction they moved into seemed to be accurate for now.

His sudden question threw her for a loop.

Was he trying to see if she was a criminal like him?

Did he want to send her stealing?

Was she supposed to be a decoy of sorts?

Shaking her head she awaited his response with baited breath.

“A pity, it can be rather fun, you know?”

Rummaging inside his pocket, he pulled some orange, sugary sweet out of it and handed it to her.

The girl looked at the candy suspiciously.

Her father never told her anything of the sort, but apparently, it was a dangerous idea for kids to take sweets from strangers.

She had heard the neighbors’ gossip about this from time to time. Always warning their children about the consequences of not obeying them and listening to their rules.

And yet she frankly couldn’t care less.

This…strange boy, this Roman as she recalled, had been the nicest person to her since her mother had ‘left’.

Still…it was better to stay on guard…just to be on the safe side.

Shaking her head once more, she pointed to the rundown houses a few meters away from them.

This was it.

Her home…

Of course her neighborhood wasn‘t the best. People said the higher up you lived the better off you were, so they truly had to be the lowest of the low.

Roman however didn‘t seem deterred in the slightest, striding towards her building as if he owned the place…

Come to think of it…

‘How does he know where I live?‘

She may have pointed him in the right direction, but not to which exact house he would need to go. And still...he found it no problem.

“Are you coming, or what?“

His voice startled her. She hadn‘t realized she had stopped in front of her door with no intention of going in.

She didn‘t want to see her father.

She didn‘t want to cower in a corner tonight, begging for forgiveness.

But stalling the inevitable wouldn‘t protect her for long.

“I hope you fixed what you broke, ya little fre-“

Her father‘s voice, brash and loud greeted them as soon as they opened the door. Roman didn't seem taken aback though, to the contrary, he did something she had never seen anyone dare before. He interrupted him.

“Ah ah ah, you really shouldn‘t send a little girl out to clean up your messes now, should you?“

Hesitantly she followed after the redhead into the living room. She was even more surprised when her father just laughed his rude words off, gesturing to a chair across from him for the boy to sit on.

“If it isn‘t Roman Brunswick. To what do I owe the pleasure?

Has Koel come around?“

She had no idea what he was talking about.

Who was Koel?

The only thing she understood was that he apparently knew that Roman.

“It‘s Torchwick now“, the boy replied pleasantly, sitting on the offered chair with a smug expression on his face,“I am here to tell you your debt has been taken care of and no...she sadly wasn‘t swayed by my words whatsoever.“

At his last words he waved his arms theatrically, causing her father to chuckle once more. It send shivers down her spine.

So...she hadn‘t actually done something wrong?

She should have known.

“A bloody shame…

I thought sending that kid would help. Koel always has a use for fresh meat, no matter how defected...but I guess I‘ll have to send her to a brothel one of these days.

She may be mute, but somewhat pleasing to look at. No backtalk.

Think I should charge double for that?“

‘...huh?‘

He...he couldn‘t mean the houses the men always visited...right?

The ones you never openly talked about?

The forbidden houses for adults?

If he really did that...then her life was as good as over. Girls never left there alive.

And yet...she couldn‘t even feel shock at this revelation.

Just...numbness...endlessly spreading through her body.

“I think you shouldn‘t advertise her too much or else someone might just decide to steal her away. Gods know I could need a partner like her.“

“That was a good one, Brunswick. Anyways, thanks for the help. Tell me if that stuck up bitch changes her mind, will ya?“

“Of course. It has been a pleasure doing business with you.

Now, if you‘ll excuse me.“

The remaining conversation had been like a blur to her. She cast her eyes down quickly, as the redhead stood from his chair, passing her without a second glance or a goodbye. It was stupid, but it left her disappointed. Against all odds she had hoped that maybe...maybe someone would save her.

In the background she could hear her father barking at her to clean the house and take out the trash, while he made some phone calls regarding her future.

Dejected she returned to her little niche where she normally slept. So this would be the last time she could snuggle up to her hidden stuffed teddy bear.

Tears burned in her eyes, threatening to spill, but she couldn’t risk it.

Her father hated it when she cried.

Quickly her hands rummaged through her pockets to find a handkerchief, but...instead her fingers connected with something that seemed like paper. Curiously she pulled it out.

It was a card, a weird pumpkin like logo pranked on its front and underneath it, there seemed to be a scratchy written message.

/Wanna run away together?/

‘Run...away?‘

As soon as the words registered with her brain she tugged her bear close and ran to the door.

‘Please...still be there.‘

Breathing heavily she looked left, then right, trying to spot the redhead somewhere.

“Took you long enough sunshine.“

Whirling around she saw him, Roman, leaning right next to their door with a grin.

“Well…?“, he asked with a drawl in his voice,“What do you think of my proposition?“

She didn‘t know why she thought it would be a good idea. For all intents and purposes he could be just as bad as her father.

And yet...there was something about him, something familiar.

Looking up at the boy she managed a quick nod, before looking down again.

Everything would be better than what her father had in store for her.

She almost flinched when a hand was placed on her shoulder. Peering up once more Roman smiled at her, offering his hand for her to take.

“Alright then, little Neopolitan, first we‘ve got to steal you some clothes and after that...let‘s rob a candy store. I am in the need of something sweet to get this foul smell out of my mouth.“

‘Neo...politan…‘

She couldn‘t help but crack a smile. She had never met such a silly person before.

‘What a dum dum.‘

She wasn‘t afraid anymore when she finally took his hand.

Of course it had been way too easy to break into the shop at night. She had to hand it to Cinder, for all her dramatic flare, she knew how to plan and strategize. Neo swept through the store, all the cameras having long been dealt with and, nipping at some pink cotton candy on the way. Her companion seemed a little...at a loss on what to do after the hard part of their operation.

That just wouldn’t do.

This was to take their minds off of...everything.

Picking up a chocolate covered apple, the short girl held it out to the maiden.

/There./

With how baffled Cinder looked Neo truly wondered if she had never gotten sweets before.

‘...oh…‘

Maybe...she hadn’t?

Sometimes it was easy to forget where they both came from. Neo would never ask of course, but she had the distinct feeling Cinder‘s childhood hadn‘t been any better than hers.

Still...why pity Cinder if she could use that to her advantage?

Although her eyes had softened, her grin was still there.

She pointedly looked at the maiden and then at the apple, tapping her right index finger innocently against her chin.

/I see...you probably don‘t know how to eat an apple./

Cinder‘s gaze switched from bewildered to embarrassed in a matter of seconds, her face flushing slightly, as she ripped the chocolate covered apple from Neo‘s hand.

“Of course I know how to eat an apple!

You are ridiculous!“

Hesitantly she bit into the fruit, the fingers of her right hand digging a little harsher into it than they needed, but Neo decided the sight was worth it,

She had never seen anyone biting into an apple with such fierceness and determination.

She also had never witnessed someone‘s eye lighting up in childish wonder and happiness before.

The short girl‘s grin faded to a genuine smile, as she watched Cinder devour her apple treat. She had never thought they both would one day end up standing in a candy store together, but here they were. And for the first time in ages...she didn‘t feel as sad about Roman‘s absence anymore.

Not with Cinder present…

All her fears seemed so far away right now. She just knew she wanted the maiden to stay with her.

A warm feeling settled in her stomach.

“And what are you so happy about?“

Cinder‘s expression had soured after having finished eating her treat...though it would probably be more fitting to describe it as something akin to a pout.

Neo‘s eyes fell towards the maiden‘s chocolate covered right hand. Without giving her companion an answer, her grin returned to her face once more. Stepping closer into the dark haired girl‘s personal space she grasped her right hand pulling it towards her mouth.

Feeling no resistance whatsoever Neo decided to push her luck and gave one finger an experimental lick…

“What the hell are you doing?“, the maiden almost yelped, drawing her hand back at the speed of light, wiping it clean against a rug on the counter.

The short girl couldn‘t help but chuckle silently at Cinder‘s flabbergasted face.

/Are you feeling better, grumpy cat?/

“I...what?“

To her surprise Cinder hadn‘t really jumped away from her when she had retracted her hand.

A good sign?

‘I sure hope so.‘

There was a storm of emotions visible on the maiden‘s face, her voice softening in a way that had always been so rare to hear.

“All of this...this...hairbrained idea of yours to rob this stupid store...all of this...was to make me feel better?“

Rolling her eyes, Neo huffed in annoyance. Leave it to Cinder to ruin her goodhearted intentions.

‘Goddamm drama queen!‘

Crossing her arms defiantly, the short girl stared up at her companion in a way that almost screamed: /Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?/

She didn‘t see it coming.

From one moment to another Neo felt soft lips pressed against hers, rendering her completely motionless. It was as if an electric strike had just jolted down her spine. So very much like her companion, just sweeping her off her feet.

Before she was able to reciprocate the kiss, Cinder pulled away in a hurry, stumbling a few steps backwards in panic, her eye wide with...

Fear!

Fear that practically radiated from her in spades.

“I…“

The maiden never finished her sentence.

Neo had seen it in her eye. The need to flee, to hide.

She was done hiding. They both were.

She wouldn‘t let Cinder run away from this...from her...from...them?

Her lips connected with the dark haired girl‘s almost a little too forceful, her arms pulling her companion closer. She could taste a hint of apple and chocolate that Cinder had eaten before, making it all the more sweeter. Closing her eyes she deepened the kiss and the tension inside the maiden‘s body seemed to melt away.

Arms began to circle around Neo hesitantly, causing her heart to skip a beat. Her face felt warm, growing hotter with each pounding her heart emitted, echoing all the way to her throat.

Her nose bumped softly against the maiden‘s, as she sank a little bit deeper into her arms, her hands almost hesitantly reaching out to caress her companion‘s cheek.

She wanted Cinder...she liked Cinder. No matter how dangerous she wound up to be. Somehow somewhere, the dark haired girl had become important to her.

And by the gods, she wouldn‘t give her up, even if it cost her her own safety. She wouldn‘t let her become like Roman.

Neo hadn‘t felt this warm...this secure in a long time.

She couldn‘t say when they finally parted again, but it left them both breathless.

Mismatched eyes met gold.

Confusion, fear, need, want.

A silent storm that swirled in both their gazes.

This would change things between them...but Neo found it hard to care any longer.

/Alright...let‘s talk./

“...yes.“

AN: Yep, still doing this and one day I will finish it...hopefully ^^‘

Credit for the awesome cover goes to @ hoepunkausta =)

#cinder fall #neo rwby #spicecreamweek #rwby #rwby fanfiction #spicecream #teasing

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charlesboyfriendwasright · 3 years

Text

MY DEBT TO YOU

Chapter ONE

Me: "I'm going to write this and have it posted by Tuesday"

Also me: *does not do that*

I'm so sorry for the long wait and the fact that this chapter is shit 💔 the other ones will probably be better because they'll be straight porn

CW: DOM FEM Reader, reader uses she/her pronouns and is a literal monarch, Maxim is a subby medieval bitch boy, no actual smut in this chapter but the rest of the series is so just Minors DNI, poorly researched, historical accuracy? We don't know her, ik I said no smut but dildos, lots of dildos, also Maxim almost slips into subspace at the end if that counts as smut

Under the cut because of smut (not really but it rhymed so whatever)

Sir Maxim Walter was tired.

Not just physically, though exhaustion did seep through his bones, but mentally as well. This was the fourth time this week some old shopkeeper had been covering for a younger fellow selling contraband through the back of his shop. Six barrels of unregistered ale in the back room, and Maxim and his team had been called in to investigate and arrest the smugglers. Now, as Dresten and Quincy pulled the offending parties through cuffs and into the back of the cart headed to the prisons, Maxim was tasked with doing another run through the shop to make sure there were no hidden rooms with more ale.

He stepped through another archway, one hand rested gently on the hilt of his sword, the other running across the wall. A hard expression was settled on his face, eyebrows knitted together in suspicion. He had a twitch in his jaw telling him that the old man was lying when he said that there weren't any hidden rooms.

He stopped when he got to the biggest room of the shop, which had a large square display in the center with nothing around it all the way up to the edges of the room. Things hung on the wall of course, but it seemed off to Maxim that every other room in this place was stocked full but this one was so barren. He took one more step forward.

The floor creaked loudly.

It wasn't out if character, creaky floors. The whole building creaked. But that was different. Louder. More hollow. He stepped again. Same sound.

Kneeling at the ground, he placed a hand on the floor, feeling for some sort of handle to grasp. His leather-clad fingers found the loose board and he pulled, moving aside so the panel could lift, revealing a steep, narrow staircase down to a cellar.

Maxim unsheathed his sword and put one foot on the first step. Sturdy. Another step. Then the next, all the way until he wasn't the bottom. His face knocked into a cord hanging from the ceiling, and he pulled it, letting the light fill the room.

He stopped dead in his tracks. His sword fell to the ground.

Where Maxim expected to see a stack of barrels, or maybe even a person, he instead saw a huge display of-

His brain stopped on the word.

On the wall, laid out unmistakable and clear as day, were about a hundred toys. Polished metal plugs of every size imaginable, and then bigger than Maxim though possible. Gently blown glass phalluses were laid out, some skillfully attached to off rope contraptions, some not.

Maxim stirred in his leather chaps, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't supposed to like this. He was supposed to be the man of the relationship. Dominant. He closed his eyes and imagined a woman who's like to use those upon him. It was when the pleasure emitting from his crotch bordered on pain when his father's voice stirred in his mind.

Deviant.

Maxim's eyes shot open. He pushed aside all his thoughts, reached down to pick up his sword and resheathe it, and marched out of the room, yanking the cord for the light on the way. He closed the door to the cellar gently however, not wanting one of his fellow knights to find it.

He could only imagine what his face looked like to Quincy as he approached. Flushed in arousal and twisted in frustration because of his findings.

"Nothing sir?"

Maxim shook his head. Quincy nodded once and then bowed, then they both got onto their horses and went off, following the prison cart back to the palace grounds.

-~•~-

The House of Walter was not the largest of the noble homes, nor were the Walters part of the Dowster twelve, the elite nobility of Dowster. They weren't very well off either, with only a small fortune. But their two sons were both high ranking military officers, and while the other noblemen and women make faces at them as they passed in the street, they weren't out of favor with the Queen.

Arthur greeted him at the door, giving Maxim pause. His father wasn't usually one to show overt politeness towards his family.

"Hello to you too father." The words were stiff.

His father gestured to the table, set for a meal. Maxim's mother died when he was young, promoting his father to remarry. Elizabeth, who had the same name as his mother, was nothing like his mother, in looks and personality. She was nice enough, and though her and Maxim got along fine, she was Elizabeth to him, not mother. She didn't push their relationship though, and Maxim enjoyed that. And he could tell they really loved one another.

"Hello Maxim!" Elizabeth said brightly. That wasn't out of the ordinary. Elizabeth was perpetually smiling. "Dinner tonight is a pot roast." She placed the dish in the center of the table.

Maxim took a seat.

"Where's Castian?" Maxim pointed to the empty seat across from him where his brother usually sat.

Elizabeth and Arthur shared a glance.

"Arthur let the boy eat for ten minutes before telling him," Elizabeth chided, serving herself and Maxim each portions of food. Her tone wasn't off, she usually kept Arthur in check, but the concerned, almost sad expression was out of the ordinary.

"He deserves to know Elizabeth," his dad spat. Maxim forced himself not to flinch. That was where him and his dad differed. Arthur had a temper. He was quick to anger and always assumed the worst. Castian was the same. Maxim preferred to sit on the sides until he knew what was needed. Until he was perfectly posed to get in and out as quickly and quietly as possible. He'd be a good stealth guard if not for the heavy clanking of his armor.

Before Maxim could ask what, he got his answer in the form of a knock on the door. Whoever it was didn't wait for an answer though, before bursting through the door, swords drawn. Maxim reached for his own, only so see that he had left it across the room. There was no way he could been able to get it. Upon closer look, Maxim recognized their uniforms. Something about their faces was also familiar, but Maxim couldn't quite place them.

"On behalf of the Queen of Dowster by the Queen's Guard, you Maxim Walter are under arrest for your treasonous actions against the throne and the Queen. You will stand trial for these crimes in three days time at the palace-"

"WHAT?" Arthur roared, cutting off the lead Guard.

The lead Guard glared at Maxim's father for a moment, then began his speech once more, addressing Maxim only, instead of the house as a whole.

This time it was Maxim who cut him off, "I know the speech," he informed them. The lead Guard nodded to another guard and they placed Maxim in cuffs. Arthur was silent now, and Maxim glanced over to see a Guard had his sword drawn right near Elizabeth.

Maxim went in silence as the guards led him to a cage. For the sake of his family's reputation, he lowered his head so no one would recognize him. People stared. He ignored them.

He couldn't say it didn't get to him though. He had always tried so much through his life to be loved by his family, to be accepted. But Castian had always stolen the spotlight. As he thought of his brother, it suddenly clicked why the Guards looked familiar. This was Castian's group. But Castian wasn't with them?

"Where is my brother? Where is Castian?' he asked. The guards stayed silent. They wouldn't talk to Maxim. He was a prisoner.

A lucky one though, if you could really even say that, because the Palace was only a half days trip from his house so it went by quick. He spent a single, sleepless night in a cell in the dungeon, and by the next morning, he was being marched to the throne room to stand before the Queen.

Maxim had never met the queen before, had only heard her words regurgitated by her Guards. But as soon as he stepped into the room he was immediately aware of her presence.

It was hard not to be, she took up most of the room with her presence, even is she was only physically taking up a single person's space. She was sitting in her throne, dressed in the most beautiful garment of clothing Maxim had ever seen his life, draped with rich purple silk. She looked regal. Royal. Beautiful.

Maxim had to pick up his jaw from the floor.

His mind idly drifted back to the room at the Shoppe he found yesterday wondering what it would feel like to have one of those used on him, by her.

He pushed those thoughts away as she began to speak.

"Maxim Walter, you have committed a heinous act of treason against me and my country. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" There was a hint of something in her voice, something familiar to Maxim but so far removed from him he couldn't place it at first. Was she amused?

Maxim gave a cursory bow, taking a knee before speaking.

"Your Majesty, I do not know of what you speak of. I have not committed any crime."

"You presume to know more than I?"

"Of course not, Your Majesty!"

The Queen studied him for a long moment. Maxim felt like squirming under her gaze. He barely held himself still.

"Leave us," she gestured to her Guards. They all shuffled out, leaving Maxim and the Queen alone in the large room.

"Stand and approach me," the queen instructed, standing up in front of her chair. Maxim stepped forward, slowly at first, but at her impatient stare, sped up his pace. He stumbled slightly on his way up to her, but managed to make it so he was on the step right in front of her, the step making up for his height and bringing him to her eye level.

"Did you do it?" She asked. Her voice was soft, quieter, but still just as strong and commanding as before.

"No Your Majesty. I don't even know what crime I'm being accused of." The Queen nodded once before stepping back so her heels were against her throne. She placed her hands on Maxim's shoulders before sitting down, pressing gently so Maxim got the message. He knelt in front of her, head practically in her lap. She removed her hands.

"I see you aren't lying to me." Maxim nodded. "But I don't believe that the rest of the country, nor your family, will see it that way." She stared off as she spoke. "So I'd like to make you a deal." Her eyes snapped back to Maxim's, holding his gaze. Maxim didn't dare to look away. "You will come to me. Live at the palace. You can be my personal guard. You would be free to leave at any time, though I cannot guarantee your safety if you do."

The Queen continued talking, but Maxim's ears were ringing to loud for him to hear her properly. His brain became foggy, vision blurring around the edges. Something about her dominance, the way she spoke as if she'd already made up her mind gave Maxim a twisted high, one he clung to. He felt a hand on his shoulder and snapped back to the Queen, realizing she was speaking to him still.

"Maxim?" she asked. He was barley conscious enough to refrain from begging her to say his name again. The word fell from her lips beautifully, wrapping around Maxim and holding him tight.

"I'm sorry I-" she held up her hand.

"I know." Her tone was soft, kind. Understanding. Maxim was brought back to reality by her touch, allowing himself to focus on her skin against his.

She seemed to know when he was back to himself. "Do you want me to repeat myself?" She asked.

"No Your Majesty." Now that his head was clear, her words came back to him.

The Queen only nodded in response.

"Well then, what do you say?"

Maxim didn't have to think about it, really. He knew his answer.

"I accept."

TAGLIST: @whiiiiplaaaaash

#I FORGOT THE FUCKING TAGS AGAIN #maxim walter #medieval oc #i also forgot the taglist

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vaderssidechick · 3 years

Text

Fic Snippet: What It Feels Like To Be Queen, Part II (Boba Fett/Fennec Shand Smut--(NSFW)

Explicit. Just warning ya. A low growl rumbled through his vocoder before he reached up, yanked his helmet off, tangled a fist into her thick black hair, and crushed her lips into his, licking into her mouth.

His scarred lips spilling into her mouth didn’t repel Shand, but roused her even more. Sure, she’d had many partners over the years-- too many at times. And many were younger and taller, with pretty-boy holovid looks and all the brains of a left-handed spanner. They were fun… for a while.

Fett wasn’t pretty and Fett wasn’t fun. Fett was danger. Fett was violence. Fett was ruthlessness and drive and animal instinct to survive. He was everything she was to the bone.

Shand broke the kiss to meet his onyx-hued eyes with her own, running her thumb over a scar under his eye. He in turn released her hair and returned the gesture, a momentary lapse of tenderness. “So,” he whispered, his lip snarling into a smile, “how should I make you feel like a Queen? On this throne?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Here?”

“Why not? You’ve dispatched our audience rather well. And it’s your throne too.” Boba leaned up and took her chin between his teeth. “I say we break it in proper,” he growled against her skin.

Shand’s eyes fluttered as her cunt clenched. However, she glanced around the filthy courtroom, which looked like it hadn’t been power-washed since Jabba’s death. “I don’t particularly want to get naked in here.”

“No need,” Boba chuckled. “Just peel that front panel off your trousers.”

She cocked her head and furrowed her brow. “What do you have in mind--”

“Do it,” Fett ordered with narrowed eyes.

Only Boba Fett could talk to her like that and not only live, but get into her pants as well-- which seemed to quite literally about to happen at this moment. Slowly, Shand slid back to her feet and undid the snaps on the double-sided panel, a design she purposely chose for efficiency and convenience-- because losing precious minutes having to fumble with trousers to relieve herself could mean missing a target she spent days staking out. And like now, it had other benefits as well.

Tossing it aside, she stood before him, eyes slit with lust and anticipation. Boba honed his gaze on the luscious mons bared before him, softly furred and already dewy for him. His cock bulged against his trousers to the point of pain, but he was in no hurry for relief-- they had time. He crooked a finger. “Closer.” Shand obliged, taking a step into him. That vicious smile returned to his lips. “Brace yourself, Queen”.

With a speed and strength that most men could only dream of, Fett hooked his hands into the creases of her thighs and hoisted her up and over him, aligning her cunt directly over his mouth. Fennec yelped, finding herself suddenly airborne, and grasped the back of the throne on either side of Boba’s bald head. He chuckled, his breath puffing over her folds. “Show me how strong you are,” he rasped as he lowered her down to kiss her cunt the same way he kissed her mouth.

Shand let out a low roar, bracing herself on the throne, arms stiff, legs spread, and abdomen tight, holding herself taut as Boba effortlessly held her up. Of course, the cybernetics knitted into her abs definitely helped, in more ways than one-- they not only strengthened her core, but the neural pathways connecting to her spinal cord were also wired into her pelvic floor. While she liked sex before, it didn’t compare to the surge of physical electricity she could feel now.

When it came to this act, Boba was a veritable glutton. Nothing tasted as good as a woman or satisfied as much, not even a fat bounty, and gods knew he'd had his share across the galaxy. But Fennec was a delicacy in of herself-- a brute just like him, but tasted sweeter than Alderaani honey and smelled as clean as the rainy season on Kamino. Since he found her half-dead on the Tatooine sands and healed her, their attraction grew as well as their partnership, and a day hadn’t gone by without him gorging on her at least twice. And he did just that, flattening his tongue along her pink, flicking her clit, delving his tongue up and in while squeezing her thighs purple.

And oh, the sounds she made. None of those mewling pitches Jabba’s girls or a well-paid whore would squeak out, pretending to like that they were being taken by the galaxy’s most ruthless killer. No, Fennec growled, grunted, and roared when she took her pleasure from him--- and it filled the cavernous den and bounced off the walls into his ears, urging him on.

Shand ground herself into Fett’s mouth, teeth and eyes clenched, her body tensing like a laser crossbow. She suddenly remembered Fortuna’s bloated corpse on the floor behind her, and when she imagined his dead eyes staring at the two of them desecrating the throne that he never deserved, she let out a howling laugh that only intensified the orgasm building inside her. Boba responded by pulling her even harder against his mouth, relentlessly licking and even sinking his teeth into her mons.

That pushed her over the edge. Fennec threw back her head and vised Boba’s head between her thighs as the cybernetically-enhanced orgasm ripped through her, a guttural roar filling the throne room that spooked the womp rats living in the walls into scurrying. She shook and growled, her hips bucking once, twice, until she came all the way down in every way, collapsing on her arms on the back of the throne.

Chuckling deep in his chest, Boba grabbed her waist and slid her down his torso to settle her in his lap. He devoured her mouth once more, swallowing Shand’s gasps for air whole. Finally, he pulled away and let her breathe for a moment, but only for one-- because he rocked to his booted feet and hoisted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and descended the dias. “Come on.”

Still panting, Shand breathed, “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere you’ll feel better about getting naked,” Boba replied before taking her lips again and carrying her out of the courtroom and into a narrow corridor.

Even as they moved through the palace, Fett never stopped on her mouth and lips, knowing these palace halls like the back of his hand, never even needing to see where he was going. Fennec caught bursts of double-sunlight that streamed through strategic shafts in the ceilings behind her closed eyes, trusting her King to know his way-- when he suddenly stopped and broke their kiss.

“Seems you didn’t dispatch our entire audience,” he whispered as he glared over her shoulder.

Fennec knit her brow and shifted in his hold, indicating that he put her down, and he complied, never taking his eyes off the intruder. Once her feet touched floor, Shand turned to see for herself. A tall, lanky, spotted-skinned Theelin-human hybrid female stood in the shafted Tatooine sunlight, dressed in an animal-skin bodysuit, her electric-red hair spiked high all over her head, her face a mix of terror and awe.

Boba still held Fennec close. She felt his chuckle through his armor. “Rystall Sant. You still haunt these halls?”

Shand slit her eyes. “You know this bitch?”

“We’ve met.” His tone was dismissive, but not dismissive enough. Shand didn’t like it, glaring bolts at the alien woman.

Rystall panted, poised on the tip of the choice to stay or run, when she suddenly cried out, “Hail Boba Fett, new Ruler of Tatooine!”

#boba fett #fennec shand #boba x fennec #fettnec #boba smutt #fanfic #star wars #the mandalorian

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 4 years

Text

BTS DRABBLE-Kim Taehyung 🎃

Halloween Series: Demon Kim Taehyung

A lonely queen with a lust for revenge. An unpredictable demon who is bound to her side. The only thing keeping them together? A few summoning symbols, a dark and bloody common goal, and a single, red thread of fate.

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Halloween, Spooky Season, Kim Taehyung, Taehyung, V, Taehyung x you, Taehyung x reader, Demon Taehyung

Genre: Dark Fluff/Suggestive, Angst if you squint

Warning: Mentions of death and past child abuse

Title: Bound to Me

(image credit: https://twitter.com/kanux4)

“Will you leave today?”

It is the same question that has left your lips every day since you met him.

And when he answers, it is the same answer he has given you every day in return.

“My darling, why would I ever leave you?”

Some days, that is all he offers you. Other days, like today, he gives you more.

Tossing aside his book and leaving the comfort of the fire, Taehyung crosses the room to where you stand-staring out the window at the barren, snow covered garden-and sliding his arms around your waist to rest at your hips, he leans in, pressing his lips to the juncture of your neck, in a lingering, gentle kiss.

“Our contract is not yet met, darling. I have no desire to leave until it is paid in full.” His lips run a path along your bare shoulder, and you feel him smirk slightly against your skin, as he speaks again, a hint of amusement in his tone, “Besides, if I left, heaven knows who or what would take advantage of your empty summoning circle.”

“And what would you know about heaven, demon?” You quip back almost instantly-though there is no bite to your tone-and he chuckles softly against your skin, where his lips still rest, warm and moist, at the crest of your shoulder.

“Not much.” Taehyung admits lightly, as he nips at your flesh once more, the feeling of his pointed teeth sending a slight shiver up your spine, as he pulls away from you, and sits back down once more before the fireplace, reaching for his book as he glances over at your form, still beside the window. “Come on, sweetheart. Stop being moody and let me enjoy your company.”

You glance over your shoulder at him, and he grins wickedly at you, fingers held out as they beckon for you to come to him, black nail polish and the tattoos that adorn his knuckles flashing in the dim light. “Don’t be stubborn, darling.” He tilts his head-dark purple hair falling over ebony irises-and his grin widens into something a little dangerous and boxy and carefree. “Come over here this instant, or I’ll be forced to come and get you myself.”

You sigh, hiding the smile that suddenly plays at your lips, and cross the room to do what he asks.

Because Kim Taehyung may be a demon-bound to you heart and soul until you complete your task-but you are just as much under his control as he is yours, though you’ll never admit it.

Because Kim Taehyung is heady and intoxicating and everything you could ever imagine and you hope-one day-that you’re ready when he answers your reoccurring question with the words you dread to hear.

*******

The feel of Taehyung’s long fingers-rings cold against your bare skin-running methodically up the length of the scars on your back, tracing them like maps, makes you shiver in a pleasant way, face buried in the pillow so you cannot see him.

“Tell me again, darling,” He suddenly murmurs, voice low and dangerous, bordering on a growl, close to your ear, making you jump. “What you want me to say to that bastard right before I slit his throat.”

“You already know.” You reply, slightly breathless, as you turn your head to the side to glance up at him, raising a brow in his direction, as his fingers curl into the fabric of the pillow on either side of your head and he towers over you. “I don’t care what you say to him. As long as you make him suffer.”

“Hmmm.” The demon hums in low satisfaction under his breath, as he reaches up to brush your hair out of the way, baring your neck, before he leans over and runs his tongue-hot and wet and dexterous-up over the revealed flesh of your throat, to the juncture of your ear, nibbling on the lobe there for a moment with the feel of sharp teeth and a smirk.

“You do know how to drive a demon crazy, sweetheart. And besides-” He pulls back from you, gripping your chin in his fingers to make you look at him. “Pain and suffering are my forte. So rest easy, knowing that that son of a bitch who hurt you will plead and beg for every last, pathetic, drawn out moment of his life.”

You roll over onto your back, locking your gaze with his, his hands still denting the pillow on either side of your head, and you can’t help but feel a small twinge of satisfaction, as Taehyung’s eyes rove down the length of your naked body with something shamelessly akin to insane hunger and desire washing over his dark irises.

You reach up, letting your hands trace over the hard planes of his chiseled stomach and chest, driving him crazy for just a moment longer, before you say with a twist of your lips, “Now you’re catering to my taste, demon. Your words are making me want to beg-which is truly unbecoming of a queen-for you to take me here and now.”

The corner of Taehyung’s full mouth twitches upward into the beginning of a self satisfied smirk. “Really. Well,” His tongue darts out to sweep slowly across his lips, and he’s staring at your exposed flesh like a dangerous animal who is ready to devour his prey. “You know what I always say, sweetheart.” He reaches out, lightly resting his fingers around the base of your throat.

“You can be the queen in every other aspect of your life, but in our bed?” His long fingers, the charcoal nails dark against your skin, tighten slightly at the column of your throat, and your heart pounds wildly in your chest in response, making him flash pointed teeth at you and lean down, the intense hunger in his eyes now swirling dangerously. “I’m the king.”

*******

You’re sitting in the garden a few weeks later, bundled in a cloak and hat and gloves against the cold, when everything finally comes out into the open.

You’re getting so close to finishing your father, to finding the ending of the revenge you’ve carried close to your heart for so long, and with that, the empty feeling in the pit of your stomach-that has been slowly growing day by day, ever since Taehyung entered your life-has suddenly become too much to bear.

Flipping a page in the novel you are halfheartedly reading, you let out a sigh, your breath freezing in the cold winter air even before it can leave your lips.

The garden is desolate and empty this time of year-the cobbles covered in a crunchy layer of snow, the trees nothing but dark branches against a gray sky-but winter has always been your favorite, because it is quiet and serene and everyone leaves you alone.

Everyone except Kim Taehyung, apparently.

“What are you doing out here?” The demon appears in one of the archways that surround the garden, and as he approaches you, you can already tell he is shivering violently beneath the coat he has thrown on. “Shit, sweetheart, you’re gonna freeze out here. Are you crazy?”

You don’t look up at him, instead, choosing to turn another page in your book, before you reply casually, “I forgot, demon, that you’re not used to the cold, being from such a hot place.”

“Hey.” He replies in a wounded tone, making you smirk slightly, as you keep your head bent to your book. “That’s a rumor, okay? Hell can actually be quite icy, especially if you get on the big guy’s bad side.”

He sits down beside you, rubbing his hands together for warmth, as you finally close the book and glance over at him.

You had always been told that demons were to be feared-dark, inhumane, cruel beings who simply did what you asked and then killed you when they had the chance-but Kim Taehyung is dangerous and dark and cruel in another way, and your heart thuds painfully in your chest just thinking about it.

He notices you staring, and turning his head to you, he asks, “What?”

You clear your throat, glancing back down at the book that is now closed in your lap, as you smooth your fingers over the gilded letters of the title. Finally, you manage to query in a small voice, “Will you leave today, Kim Taehyung?”

He sighs from beside you-though it is lighthearted-and leaning back on his hands on the cold, stone bench, he tilts his head back to look up at the sky, violet locks hanging down the collar of the coat he wears, as he ponders your question silently for several moments.

Finally, he quips back, “Is your father dead at your feet, darling?” He waits for you to answer, brow cocked, stunningly sharp and beautiful profile outlined against the winter sky, and when you finally shake your head, he nods, grinning at you, before he says, “Then no. I’m not leaving today. I still have work to do.”

You swallow hard at his words, your mouth suddenly dry, and your fingers grow still on the pages of the book in your lap.

Taehyung doesn’t seem to notice.

Standing up, once again vigorously rubbing his hands together, his breath coming in bright bursts of steam from his mouth, he looks down at you, offering a hand, as he exclaims, “Now come on. Let’s go warm up inside.” He tilts his head and offers you a slightly smug smirk. “Either by the fire or by our own methods.”

You don’t look at him, and you don’t take his offered hand.

Instead, there are several seconds of tense silence between the two of you, and then you suddenly let the words slip from your lips, quiet and fervent and cold, “I know everything, Taehyung.”

You don’t look at him, but you feel the pause in the air around you, as he considers your words.

“What are you talking about?” He asks, and there is a shake to his voice, though you are sure it’s just from the cold.

You finally manage to look up at him, your eyes meeting his own, and your fingers clench into the material of your overcoat, as you take in a shaky breath of your own and push forward, “I know everything.”

Recognition dawns across the demon’s ethereal features, but you do not stop, coming to your feet before him, the book tumbling to the cobblestones, suddenly forgotten in the moment. “When I summoned you,” You stumble over the words, as they all fight their way to the tip of your tongue, ready to be released, to be free. “I made a mistake.”

Taehyung’s eyes darken slightly, and his voice is slightly dangerous, as he murmurs in a low tone, “(Y/N)-”

You speak over him, hands now twisting into the fabric of your skirt feverishly. “I made a mistake. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I visited the summoning circle on a whim last night, and I saw-I saw what I had done wrong.”

His lips part, as if he’s going to try to speak again, exhale emerging on a cloud of frost from between the gap, and he steps toward you, reaching out to touch you, but you back away from him, almost stumbling over the bench you had been sitting on in your haste to put space between the two of you.

“You lied to me.” You point a trembling finger in his direction, and the words, and the look on his face, make a bitter taste flood into your mouth, but you cannot stop now. “You were never bound to me. I summoned you, and I messed up, and you’ve always been free.”

He sighs, heavy this time, something unreadable crossing his eyes, and then says gently, “(Y/N), I can explain-”

“Why are you still here?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself, the words seeming to hang in the crisp air between the two of you. “Why didn’t you leave? You’re not bound to me, Kim Taehyung. So why have you stuck around?”

Your body is trembling and your knees feel weak, but you have to hear his answer. You need to know.

When he looks at you, his dark irises are swirling, and his features are set, normally full lips pressed into a thin line, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse and truthful, “I stayed because of you.”

Your mouth drops open, and the only thing you can manage to say is, “What?”

He steps toward you once more, and this time, you do not push away from him, your knees resting against the cold stone of the bench at your back. He reaches out, lightly brushing a strand of hair from your forehead, and his ungloved hands are cold against the rosy skin of your cheeks, as he runs a finger down to your jawline. “I stayed because of you, sweetheart.”

“Why?” You ask next, feeling suddenly and completely out of your depth.

“Because-” He sighs, and the pad of his finger goes across the skin of your lips like a feather, as his gaze holds yours. “Like an idiot, I fell for you the moment you summoned me into existence.”

You swallow, and your sure the demon standing before you can hear how loudly your heart is pounding.

“You were dramatic beauty and bloody revenge and sharp edges hiding an incredible soul and an even more beautiful heart, and I didn’t care that you had screwed up and I was technically free.” Taehyung continues, his voice a low murmur in the close space between the two of you, warmed by your shared breaths in the cold air. “All I wanted was to stay at your side and do anything you asked of me. For the rest of your life.”

“But you-” You began to say, and then stopped yourself, at the look on his face.

“I was never bound to you, darling.” He breathes out, letting his hand drop the base of your throat, where the pounding of your pulse could be felt easily beneath his fingers at the hollow of your collarbone. His eyes trace up the length of your neck, back to your eyes. “Not by magic. But absolutely by choice. And every day, every single day,” He lets out a heavy breath through his nose, followed by a slightly humorless chuckle. “You asked me if I was going to leave, and if I’d had a heart, it would have broken it every single time.”

“I’m sorry.” You manage to say on a whisper, reaching out to cup his face in your hands, the fabric of your gloves sliding over the flawless smooth skin that stretches across his perfect cheekbones. “I’m sorry for asking you that. And I’m sorry I never believed you when you told me no.”

The corners of his lips turn upward, and his fingers thread through your own, where they still rest on the planes of his face. “Now you know, sweetheart.” He shivered beneath your touch. “Damn it. Can we please get out of this cold?”

********

The door to the bedroom creaks open, and you stand from your seat beside the fire, anticipation and nervousness and hopefulness swirling, all at the same time, in the pit of your stomach.

You wait for a breathless moment, and then Taehyung appears in the darkened doorway, shutting the heavy door behind him silently, as you hurry across the floor on stockinged feet to his side.

“Well?” You ask breathlessly, as he turns to face you, and you meet his unreadable gaze.

He grins boxily, sharpened teeth flashing bright white in the dim light from the fire, and holds up a knife, dried blood marking the blade a deep maroon. “He’s dead, sweetheart. Just like you wanted.”

You feel as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, and you let out a sigh of relief through your teeth, as you manage to return his smile. “Thank you, Taehyung.”

Tossing the knife onto the chest of drawers beside the door, the demon cocks his head as he looks at you, a slightly mischievous look coming across his features, as he reaches out, hands going around your waist, to tug you to him. “Don’t you wanna know the details, darling?”

You reach up, pushing purple locks back from his forehead, and run a finger across a splash of blood that has marked the flawless skin above his dark brow. It is slightly congealed, but still liquid, and when you pull your finger away, the vivid crimson shines dark in the firelight on your fingertip as you admire the sight.

“No.” You reply simply, glancing up from the blood to meet his gaze once more as he watches you, body pressed against your own. “I trust you made his last moments a living hell. That’s good enough for me.”

You reach for a handkerchief, and swipe the blood-the last physical piece of your father-onto the crisp, clean white surface.

“Shit, you’re terrifying.” Taehyung growls out, pulling you back flush against him, as he bends his head to nip the skin playfully along the side of your neck. “I love it.”

You laugh, his breath tickling your ear, as he presses a sloppy kiss to the juncture of your throat, and pulling back from him slightly, so that you can look up at him, you ask seriously, “Are you ever going to leave, demon?”

The corner of his mouth tugs upward into a smirk. “Never.”

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fragmentedink-archived · 4 years

Text

Hell to Pay: Part Forty-Nine

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

A/N: trigger warnings for mentions of past rape and triggers of past parental abuse

It was never fun to have Ash staring him down, eyes glowing bright green to let Lev know Ash absolutely could see him right now. The instinct to fidget under such a frustrated glare was strong.

“My fever didn’t come back,” Lev offered when the silence stretched too long for him to stand.

“Oh?” Ash said. “Why don’t you go ahead and pat yourself on the back for that, then, Lev. Since you think it’s perfectly okay to have intercourse after being brought back from the dead and almost dying from your heat, you must be perfectly fine and not need my help anymore, right?”

Lev shook his head. “No,” he admitted. And... as cranky as the healer was, he had a point. Lev probably should have asked him first. He hadn’t thought it through at all. No, he’d been thinking with his dick, per usual. “I’m sorry,” he added, honestly. “It didn’t occur to me. I should have- should have run it by you first.”

“No shit,” Ash deadpanned. “It’s not like I’m being paid for any of this- or that anyone’s bothering to listen to me about anything, but fine.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Lev touched the back of Ash’s hand. “I really am sorry,” Lev said earnestly. “And- I should have waited. It won’t happen again.”

Ash shoved his hands into his pockets. “See that it doesn’t,” he said. “Do anything else stupid lately? Besides Cameron?”

Lev frowned. “Be nice,” he admonished before he could think to stop himself. A flush crossed his cheeks, but he just went on to say, “Nik wasn’t happy Cam and I...” He shook his head. “And Nik was- he was weird before that.” Lev pulled his knees up to his chest. “Actually, I have a question for you. I... I still don’t remember any of that time. The months I was dead. Is there any way to get that time back?”

Ash looked at him, annoyance rippling across his face. “Yeah,” he said. “But it’s not pleasant. You sure you can handle it?” Ash stopped. “Of course you can, who am I talking to. We don’t listen to my medical expertise, anyways. When do you want it done.”

Lev stared at him. “I don’t know,” he said. “Ash, we don’t have to do anything. It’s not killing me to not know. I don’t think. If you don’t think I should I can wait.”

“No,” Ash said, “It’s not. However, they are your memories and you are entitled to them like you are to your body. It’s just very emotionally taxing and I want to know you can handle it before I decide to go through them.”

Lev gave a small shrug. “I’ll be fine,” he promised. “What- what do we have to do?”

Ash sat down on the coffee table in front of Lev and folded his hands. “We don’t do anything. You let me into your mind and I fix the damaged parts of your temporal lobe. Once it is healed, I can go through your memories and heal them- if you want.”

“What do you mean, heal the... memories?”

“Seperate the emotion from them so you can process. Some memories are too tightly wound with pain that it’s hard to move past them. I take the trauma and you heal.”

Lev looked down. “Is there any way to do that without- I want to learn to heal on my own. I just want the memories accessible to me so I can.”

“We can do that,” Ash said. “But I’ll still have to go through them.”

Lev nodded slowly. “Okay,” he agreed. “Then I don’t have a problem with it.”

“Good,” Ash said, “When do you want to start?”

“As soon as possible,” Lev said. “If that’s okay. If you think that’s wise.”

Ash seemed to think it was well enough, since he leaned forward and cradled Lev’s face. He closed his eyes, hands warming just enough Lev’s face flushed from the heat of Ash’s magic. “Don’t fight me.”

“I won’t,” Lev promised faintly.

Ash seemed to concentrate. His eyebrows furrowed as a pressure built in Lev’s mind. But soon enough Ash pulled back, looking even more annoyed than when he arrived. “There’s nothing to be fixed,” Ash said. “You’re keeping yourself from your memories and I can’t fix that. Well.” He thought on that. “I could, but it would do far more harm than good. How do you feel about a fire in your head?”

It took Lev several seconds to process what Ash meant. “There’s nothing wrong?” Lev finally asked, confused. And then, “A fire in my head seems counterproductive. I don’t want to trigger another fever...”

“Yeah, that was a rhetorical question, genius,” Ash said. “You’re going to need a demon for what you’re wanting. Specifically a telepath. Or to just face your memories head on.”

“Oh,” Lev said softly. “I don’t know any telepaths.” Which meant facing them, apparently. But- Lev didn’t know if he could do that. Didn’t know how to do that.

Cameron snorted from the doorway. “I do,” he said. “Happens to be the queen. Every bit as nasty as you could possibly imagine.”

Ash looked irritable. “Great.”

Lev opened and closed his mouth. “Oh,” he said faintly. “Would- would she even help an angel though?”

“Considering her mate is one,” Ash said, “I give it a 10/90 chance. She hates men more than she hates angels. In fact, from what I understand, she wants to string Nik up by his guts. Though who knows what she’d do with you.”

Because that was comforting. Lev looked to Cameron instead. “Is it a bad idea?” Lev asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” a low feminine voice said from behind Cameron. “Still making up my mind.”

Cameron seemed perfectly unfazed to see the slight, tanned woman who walked straight into the room. The sentries didn’t lift a finger to try and detain her. She cut a cold, calculating look at Lev. She then completely dismissed him and turned her focus right back to Cameron. “Care to tell me why you decided to go ahead and not tell me why you’re performing necromancy in my territories?” She held up a manicured hand and looked at Lev. “He doesn’t seem like much for the effort considering how much unrest seemed to come from this.”

Lev flicked a glance between all three of them before settling his gaze on Cameron again, looking for guidance on how he was supposed to respond. “I’m lucky to have someone who loved me enough to fight for me,” Lev finally said.

The woman lifted a groomed brow at that very diplomatic nonanswer and turned her icy eyes back to Cameron. “And did you love this angel enough to go over my head for such a thing?”

“No,” Cameron said, smoothly, matching her exact tone. “But Amara did.”

Lev winced. “She’s very headstrong,” he said softly.

The woman looked vaguely disgusted. “I’ve noticed,” she said, flatly. “Where’s the annoying one at?” She cut a look at Ash. “And I don’t mean that one.” She turned to Lev. “Do you know or do you not actually know anything besides how to be a thorn in my side.”

“Staying in angel territory,” Lev admitted after a long moment. “Amara’s keeping an eye on him.” He waved his new phone at her halfheartedly. “She says he’s safe.”

“Unfortunate,” She said, with enough deadpan that Lev winced. She stalked over to him and held out her hand. “Phone.” Her tone was laced with pure order.

Lev handed it over without a second thought.

---

Amara sat up, flailing for her phone. Where was it? That was Lev’s ringtone, and she was not going to miss a phone call from him. Without hesitation she crawled over Cin, ignoring his grunt when her knee found his ribs. Half off the bed, she put the phone to her ear. “Lev?” She answered, trying to pull herself back up with one hand.

“Try again.”

“Biela?” Amara asked, letting Cin haul her up. “What are you doing with Lev’s phone?” She paused. “Should I be worried?”

“Should you?” Biela asked, sounding bored. “Still making up my mind. Your answers will probably dictate whether or not you should be.”

“Delightful as ever,” Amara muttered, rubbing her face. She smacked Cin’s hand when he tried to fix her hair, but let him pull her in his lap and nibble on her shoulder. “If you’re pissed I killed Destris, he was a fucking- he deserved it, even if he hadn’t killed my cousin.”

“Why would I care about that piss-poor excuse of a man,” Biela said. “As far as I’m concerned it saves me a dry cleaning bill. I want to know why you decided to bring back an angel from the dead in my territories without my express permission and if you give me some bullshit about you being a mutt I’ll cut your tongue out.”

Well. Biela was in a mood. Normally, Amara would enjoy poking at it, but today she just sighed. “Honestly? Didn’t even cross my mind to ask permission. I did what I had to. And I’ll deal with the consequences of it, if that was a punishable offense. Lev’s done nothing wrong, except not have a single ounce of self preservation.”

Biela made a disgusted sound. “That gives me no reason to care about him,” she said. “However, as I just got my nails done, I won’t just kill him and put him back where he belongs. For now.” Biela was quiet for a moment. “I expect a visit.”

And with that the line went dead.

Amara flopped back with a groan against Cin’s chest. “And people call me a bitch,” she moaned.

“Biela?” Cin asked, tension lining his body.

“Yeah,” Amara muttered. She looked up at him. “Is it bad I’m turned on right now?”

Cin pushed her off his lap.

---

Nik wiggled out from under the several throw blankets Mami had smothered him in when he heard his phone start buzzing. He cleared his throat and frowned when he saw Lev’s name. He wiped his eyes and answered. “Yeah?”

“You go through the troubles of making my life difficult and you’re not even here?”

Nik blinked. “Who the fuck- Biela?” He sat up ramrod straight. “Why do you have Lev’s phone? Listen, he didn’t do anything to you-”

“Of course he didn’t,” Biela said, distaste coating her tone. “Everyone around him did instead. Your brother is mated with your king and I find out through my spies that necromancy is being performed in my territory.”

“Okay?” Nik said, his voice rising. “I don’t know what the fuck you want me to do about it. I’m not the one who fucking did it and Lev’s an angel and Amara likes to flount around that she’s some kind of mutt or whatever, and it was a witch that performed it. My bad you’re straddled with the paperwork.”

He could almost see that tiny, ferocious smile. “And what do you think I should do about it? I have angels in my territories deciding to break the laws of nature because, what, you all think this is a game with no rules? Even think about doing something like this again, and you won’t have to worry about the consequences. There’ll be nothing left of you.”

And with that, she decidedly hung up when his mouth dropped. “That bitch.”

Nik got up and went to find clean clothes.

---

Biela hung up the phone and dropped it into the angel’s lap. She glowered down at him and he only watched her with big golden eyes. The fact he had the nerve to do so after the trouble he caused, when she had no reason to trust or respect the angel, rankled her. She grabbed his chin- if she truly wanted, she could just give a sharp snap and this be done with, however, she gave Amara her word. For now. “Quit staring at me like that,” she said before walking out of the room, motioning for Cameron to follow her.

The sentries all stared down at the floor the moment she came into view on the way to Cameron’s office. The nearest sentry opened the door in time for her to walk inside and take the desk chair for herself.

Cameron stood mildly on the other side of the desk with a straight spine and hands oh so carefully folded behind his back. “At least with the first one,” she said, “I could respect that he was a warrior, even if he kept trying to sleep with me. This one? Is just useless.”

Cameron lifted a slight shoulder. “He keeps Nik on a leash when I’m busy.”

“And the fact they’re both angels?” Biela said. “I did not spend three hundred years in the thick of war for the sons of prominent angels to end up in the bed of one of my lords, Cameron. I have half the mind to feed them to demons and wash my hands of this whole mess.”

She crossed her legs. “However,” she said. “As they both are so heavily tied to the king of Liwen, I’ll let it pass. Bring another angel into this and I will not be so forgiving.”

“Of course,” he said. “Is there anything I can do to ease anxieties?”

She let a smile curl on her lips. “I expect you to debrief your pets. Let them know exactly what will be happening if they stay here. I do find it fascinating that you chose one that could so easily be eaten. Though, he was killed already, so I do suppose it’s not unsurprising.”

Biela rapped her nails against the wooden table. The security risks that these particular angels posed to her people, even if they seemed harmless enough, Biela knew better and she wasn’t going to make the mistake of her country shoved into another war. “Why don’t you tell me if I should be worried about something like this happening again, hm?”

Cameron didn’t blink an eye. “Permission to be frank?”

She waved a hand. “Since you asked.”

“Once more,” he said. “I have the resources to right a wrong done to one of mine. The blood is on my hands and I would like to balance the scales. There would be no security risk; there would be no other costs to worry about.”

“You’re going to perform necromancy. Again.” Biela said. “And why should I let this happen?”

“It’s a demon of your own homeland,” He said. “Your god is his god and he is no one to anyone.”

Her small smile returned. “Except to you,” she said. “Clearly he’s someone to you. You expect me to forgive this operation not only once, but twice? Is that what you are requesting of me?”

“Yes.”

“Because he’s what? From my homeland?” she asked, lifting a brow. “Do you take me for a sentimentalist?”

“I take you for a fair queen who would give her people a chance to make things right,” Cameron replied.

Biela stared him down. She could feel the weight in those perfectly calculated words. Not so long ago she had risked everything to right a wrong done to her. “Your toy mentioned a witch?” she said, finally. “Is that right? I know you’re not bastardizing demonic magic to perform this lunacy.”

“I am not,” he said. “The witch is pulling from Nature.”

She clicked her nails once more. “Where is this witch?”

---

Sorin watched Biela walk in his front door and damn near fell on his face in his haste to stand at attention. “My queen,” he said with a deep bow, even as his heart pounded. He didn’t even dare to ask why she was here. The last time he’d seen her had been when he’d been discharged from the army after Fax had died, and that hadn’t exactly been his best day.

“Where’s the witch?”

Again, Sorin’s chest tightened. “In his study,” Sorin said as he straightened, mouth dry. “Please. He’s all I have.”

Biela paused, leveling him with an unimpressed look. “What exactly do you think I’m going to do to him.”

Sorin didn’t know how to reply. Before he could figure it out, Cyrus appeared from his study. “It’s alright, Sorin.” Cyrus looked too tired, and there was a slight tremor to his hands. The witch looked at Biela calmly. “He’s always a bit anxious. How can I help you?”

Biela folded her arms. “Why are you performing necromancy on my lands?”

“A poorly thought out deal with Amara Claire, made on Sorin’s behalf.” Cyrus slid his hands into his pockets. “I’m a man of my word, and I offered her any spell she wanted. She chose necromancy.”

“A mistake,” she said, unimpressed, “making bargains with Amara Claire."

Cyrus flicked a look back at Sorin, who wanted so badly to go to his side. Instead he watched as Cyrus regarded Biela again. “It’s not a mistake I plan on making a second time. I only did so at the time for Sorin.” He paused, and added dryly, “It’s not like she was particularly helpful on her end of the bargain anyway.”

Biela lifted a brow. “But you’ll make the same mistake a second time anyways, for Cameron Luain, will you not? I’d be more lenient on the idea of it being a mistake if it only happened once, and yet, you’ll be performing the same spell a second time. Soon, if I’m understanding correctly. Why should I let you?”

Cyrus lifted a shoulder. “We all need different forms of closure. And when I summoned Cameron’s ghost, there was something in Cameron’s face. Whoever he is, he’s important. And I wasn’t going to waste bringing Levant back just to watch them all struggle if they need this man too.” He hesitated. “Cameron said Levant was asking for this demon. I’m assuming they met while Levant was dead.”

Biela’s face went very carefully neutral. “You make it sound like I care what that angel wants,” she said, coldly. But then just as quickly waved it off. “But fine. Have your spell. This one spell. But first, you will give me access to this spirit, and to your mind. Otherwise, it’s a no. And I will make sure you recognize the no as what it is.”

“Okay,” Cyrus said, reaching out for Sorin’s hand. Sorin was at his side in a heartbeat, helping Cyrus into his study. With a flick of his wrist, Sorin lit Cyrus’ candles, and then he settled on the floor beside his witch.

It took Cyrus a few minutes, but he managed to pull Darius’ spirit into being with a murmured apology.

Darius looked almost startled when he appeared. But the moment his eyes locked on Biela, a calmness spread across his light brown face. Biela and Darius both shared similar features of someone from the same homeland, even if Biela held herself worlds apart from everyone else.

Darius bowed at the waist deeply, before elegantly righting himself and offering her a small smile. “Your majesty,” he said. “It’s an honor.”

“I’m sure,” Biela said. “I understand you’re wanting to be brought back from the dead. How long have you been dead and why should I care about a resurrection? We all have lost someone, and Cameron shouldn’t get to bring back the dead because he made a mistake.”

Darius seemed to think on that. He didn’t look hurt by her brutal words, and just held her steely gaze steadily. “Cameron’s entire life has been very carefully moulded into a perfect tool for his parents. Would it be so bad to let him have one selfish thing to make up for five hundred years of isolation and depersonification?”

Sorin couldn’t decide who he should look at. Darius was- he was new. Biela was his queen. He didn’t know if he should keep his eyes on her out of respect, or the opposite, for the exact same reason. In the end, he fixed his eyes on Cyrus, who managed a wan smile just for him.

Biela’s face was kept at her perfect icy neutrality. “At the risk of even more dark magic being released into my earth? For one man? Compared to millions of people under my protection? I should kill everyone involved,” she said. “That kind of threat needs to be extinguished.” She slid her eyes to Sorin. “You’re exmilitary. You’ve seen the war and bloodshed, and the slaughter to our people. What do you think should be done?”

Sorin blinked, startled by being addressed. “I think,” he finally said carefully, “That- well-” Lying would get him nowhere, so he swallowed. “I think that necromancy is a dangerous thing. For the spellcaster, and for the people involved. I think most people don’t get the chance to even try, and- I feel like it’s not fair. But- I’m not sure I can give a good answer. I’m not unbiased. And I don’t know what I think, anyway.”

Cyrus looked a little pained. He swiped his thumb over the back of Sorin’s hand sympathetically, and then went still again. Right. Well then.

“You don’t know what you think,” she said. “Typical answer. I don’t know what else I was expecting.” She turned to Cyrus, eying him carefully. “I see you carry the braincell in the relationship. Then again, you were the one to release that bastardized magic. You were the one to taint my lands, and you were the one to decide to play with forces that do not belong to you. Can’t even get your own magic. You’re siphoning a demon to do the spell.”

Cyrus, to his credit, didn’t even blink. “I was,” he agreed. “I took a lot of effort to make sure my steps could not be retraced. Just as Amara took plenty to keep others from finding out Levant died in the first place. I don’t want anyone but me knowing this spell. I don’t think even I want to know this spell when it’s all said and done. It’s too much twisted power, and it’s not fair to other people grieving.”

Biela clicked her manicured nails along her arm. “So you admit that you tainted my lands,” she said. “And what do you think I should do about that? You admit that that was too much power, and too much dark power at that. Why should you get the pardon? Because you’re a witch and Amara tricked you? You’re the victim in all of this, right? Forced to help Amara Claire because of a poorly worded promise.”

“I’m not a victim. I chose what morals I needed to stick to. Releasing dark magic wasn't my intention. And I’ve made no such promise to Cameron Luain. I said I’d try. If you forbid it, that’s that. I tried.” He didn’t flinch when Sorin’s hand tightened on his. “I’m not a demon, but this is your kingdom, and Sorin’s your subject. Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson about Amara Claire.”

“Hm.” Biela turned back to Darius, shifting her inky black hair behind her shoulder. He met her icy gaze steadily. “Cameron murdered you in cold blood,” she said. “Knife in your throat, yes? Just let you bleed out on his pretty carpets and you want to come back from the dead for him?”

“With all due respect,” Darius said, after a moment of thought, “I think we both know there was nothing cold blooded about an animal trapped in a corner doing what it took to survive.”

What a strange way to describe Cameron. Sorin found it hard to believe Cameron had ever been trapped in anything he didn’t have a way to get out of.

“Fair enough,” Biela said, airly. To Cyrus, she said, “I’ll grant it. You do not do it on my lands, and you do not use a single demon or their magic to do so. If you do, I will find out, and you will find your life, and Sorin’s life, forfeit. Do I make myself clear?”

Cyrus had the sense to dip his head respectfully as he murmured, "Understood."

Biela switched her gaze to Sorin. It took him several seconds to realize what she was waiting for. “Of course, Your Majesty,” Sorin said quickly, lowering his gaze.

And then she was gone. Sorin blinked at the space she’d left, the door swinging shut with a gentle click. Only after she was gone did Cyrus let out a very small, tired sigh. Sorin swung around, peering at his mate.

“Sometimes,” Cyrus offered, “I wish I wasn’t a witch.” He squeezed Sorin’s hand, before looking to Darius. “I’m sorry.”

Darius gave a small shrug. “I’m sorry you’re in this position.”

“It’s what I get for being a young witch genius without a coven,” Cyrus replied, not even a little bit of ego to his tone. “I should have known better than to make promises without terms.”

Darius offered him a small smile. “I am afraid that is something we must learn with age, and you are still very young.”

Cyrus considered that. “True,” he admitted. “It still stings to have been dragged into this by someone at least ten years younger than me, though. I should have realized she had ulterior motives.”

---

Lev hadn’t moved from the couch. He’d just pulled his knees up and rested his cheek on them as he stared past Ash and tried not to think at all.

“Just breathe. She’s not going to eat you,” Ash finally said, catching Lev off guard.

He shifted his attention to Ash. “I know,” he said. “She would have already... right?”

“...Sure.”

Comforting. Lev tucked his cheek against his knees again, closing his eyes. “I want Nik,” he finally said in a small voice.

“You could call him, you know,” Ash pointed out. “You have a phone.”

Lev looked down on the phone on the cushion beside him. “Oh,” he said. Right. Nik had to be worried; he hadn’t called him in the hour after Biela had used his phone to talk to Nik. As he found Nik’s contact info, he settled back against the couch, tucking the phone against his face.

Nik picked up immediately. “What the fuck do you want, you phychopath?”

“Nik?” Lev said, his voice getting smaller. He knew Nik wasn’t mad at him, but still.

“Oh. Lev.” Nik paused. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lev promised. “Are you? You... you’ve been gone for a while.”

Nik was quiet for a little bit. “I’m on my way home. I needed to think.”

Small chill went down Lev’s spine. He understood. “Are you mad at me?” He asked softly. “It’s okay if you are. I just wanna know.”

“I’ll get over it,” Nik eventually replied.

“Okay,” Lev said softly. He chewed on his lip briefly, and then said, “Drive safe?”

“I'll be home soon.”

Lev hesitated. “I’m trying to get my memories back. The months I was... gone.”

“Um. Are you sure you want to do that?”

“They’re my memories. Why shouldn’t I?” Lev flicked Ash a look, and then said, “Everyone’s being weird. I want to know what I missed.”

“Fair enough.” Nik was quiet for a bit longer, and then, “I’m still an hour out. I’d better go.”

“Okay.” Lev tightened his grip on the phone. “I love you.”

“Love you.”

Lev waited until he was sure Nik hung up to put the phone down. Somehow, he didn’t feel any better.

“Why do you think Nik’s mad at you?” Ash asked, snagging Lev’s attention before he could bury himself in his anxiety again.

“I had sex with Cameron after Nik- after he couldn’t sleep with me.” Ash looked pained at Lev’s words. “He- Nik - flinched. So I told him we could wait. And he didn’t like that. But- Cameron offered later, and Nik wasn’t home, and- things have been weird and I wanted normal.”

“I mean no offense, Lev, but you just got brought back from the dead. Normals not in your wheelhouse any time soon.”

Lev winced. “I guess I should have known that,” he replied. “But I want it all the same.”

Maybe Ash would have figured out a response to that, but before he could, Biela appeared in the doorway. Lev slowly sat up, settling criss cross. “Majesty,” Lev said hesitantly, dipping his head as low as he could without risking toppling off the couch.

“Let’s get this over with,” was all she said.

Lev bit back his surprise that she was even going to help, but the next moment he could feel her, holding his mind without even taking a step in the room. He was dragged along with her as she went through his memories. Memories so old it was eerie seeing them again. His mother’s face. His father’s. Their death, and living with his Gramma.

The only time Biela slowed in her precise, unflinching sorting through his memories was when she dug up flashes of times he absolutely hadn’t wanted to see again. And the details. He’d asked for this, but he hadn’t expected to go back so far. He’d purposefully forgotten how bad it’d been, with Remi, with Vehuel, even with Silas, despite Silas’ attempts to shield him. Going back through them was more visceral than he expected; he could feel every touch, hear every word, and it struck him to the core all over again.

He was still reeling when Biela found his more recent memories. He didn’t have time to feel embarrassed about his brief but warm time with Fax, or how quickly he fell for Nik and Cameron after they took him in. How quickly he came to find a home here, in a way he had only begun to feel with Fax.

But it was a new sort of pain to see the months where he had been dead. Watching Nik and Cameron struggle- and what Lev had done.

By the time Biela let go and pulled her thoughts from his, he was crying silently. He touched his cheeks, wiping the tears away with shaky hands. To his surprise, Ash put his hand on Lev’s shoulder. After a few seconds, Lev lifted his gaze to Biela and Cameron in the doorway, only to realize Nik was waiting there as well. How long had-?

“Nik?” Lev finally croaked.

Nik gave him a lopsided smile. “Hey Princess. You doing okay?”

Lev shook his head, and might have gotten up if Ash hadn’t kept his hand on Lev’s shoulder. Thankfully, Nik crossed the room, settling beside him. Lev twisted until he could bury his face in Nik’s shoulder, grabbing at Nik’s shirt as he took several deep breaths. Old memories flickered behind his eyes, but he pushed them back for now.

Only when he was sure he wasn’t going to start crying again did he look up at Biela again. She seemed to have paled, and though she kept her face neutral, she looked tired. “Thank you,” Lev finally managed. “For helping me.” Even if guilt was already eating away at him.

“You’re welcome.” She looked to Cameron. “I want to speak with you.”

They left, and Lev almost started crying again. After he got himself under control, he said to no one in particular, “Can you help me to the kitchen? I- I need to move.”

Nik helped Lev up without saying a word. Ash followed behind, also silent. Diner was done, sitting on the stove ready to be served, and Cameron had even set the table. He stared at everything, breath hitching. His thoughts were still spinning, and he couldn’t quite catch them all. Nothing made sense, except the one phrase that kept echoing in his mind.

It wasn’t fair.

Before he could think about it, he scooped up a bowl and shattered it on the floor. Beside him, Nik flinched, but the sound of it breaking was so satisfying he threw another, just to hear it again. By that point Cameron appeared in the doorway.

Lev looked right at him, and blurted, “It’s not fair. None of this is fucking fair. I didn’t deserve this. Any of it.” Cameron only stared back, face unreadable. “I didn’t ask to be born like this. I didn’t ask for Rem- for- he raped me, for years and I- I didn’t want it. I didn’t deserve- Fax didn’t deserve- and then- Destris-” He was crying again, breath hitching. “I was pregnant. That’s why I left. I was trying to figure out what to do because you don’t want kids, and we already have Eden, and now it’s gone-”

Nik was moving, leaving, and Lev didn’t blame him, not one bit. “But none of that matters, if- what I did while I was dead- I might as well have tried to actually kill him. And that’s not okay. That was my fault. And no one’s done anything about it. No one told me. What I did was unforgivable. To you, to Nik, to Nate. And no one let me face the consequences. You didn’t let me face Remi. You didn’t let me face Vehuel. And maybe I couldn’t, but no one has ever given me the choice.” He wiped his face. “I’ve been trying to be better. They made you a weapon, but they made me a doll and then they got angry when that’s all I knew how to be. But even that doesn’t excuse what I did.”

“You can start facing them now,” Cameron said.

And somehow, that calmed Lev down some. “I can?” he said, caught off guard.

Cameron lifted a brow. That was all the response Lev was going to get, apparently.

Lev looked down at the mess he made. Right. He’d done that. He knelt, reaching for the bigger pieces. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, taking a shuddering breath. “I shouldn't have- I’ll buy you more.”

“Leave it. Nik needs you more than some broken glass.”

Lev stared at the mess. “I- I’ll clean it up later,” he said. Promised.

Cameron gave a slight nod, and so Lev eased to his feet, setting the pieces in his hands on the table. He slipped past Ash, in the doorway, and paused when he saw Biela. Her face was unreadable, but she just said, “Be careful what you wish for.”

Lev had no idea what to say to that, so he just gave a quiet, “Yes ma'am.”

When she didn’t stop him, he moved on, tracking Nik down by scent and a little luck. His mate was curled up under several blankets in Cameron’s bed. Lev crawled up next to him, but left space between them.

“Nik?” he said in a small voice. When he got no answer, Lev settled down, tucking his face in the pillow. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper,” he said. “I’m not angry with you.”

From under the blankets, Lev heard a sniffle.

Lev reached out to touch Nik’s head over the blankets. “I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to tell you like that. I’m- I should have found a better way.”

“Are you going to stay like that?” Nik finally asked from under the blankets.

“Like what?” Lev asked, hesitantly.

Nik was quiet for a long moment. Eventually he said in a voice just as small as Lev’s, “Violent.”

Oh. Guilt rose up, yet again. “No,” he promised. “I’m- I was wrong. I should never have acted like that.” He pulled at the blankets questioningly. “Nik. Can- can I see you?”

Nik slowly poked his head out.

“I’m never going to hit you,” Lev promised. “I won’t. And I won’t- I won’t let myself get angry like that again.”

Nik nodded slowly. Lev reached out, stroking Nik’s cheek. Nik shrank back, just a little, so small Lev almost missed it, but not enough to pull away.

Lev meant to reassure him again, but all that came out was, “I know you’re pregnant. And I want you to know I’m not mad.”

To Lev’s horror, Nik’s face crumpled. Before Lev could do anything else, Nik was crying, hard. Lev scooted closer, crawling under the blankets with Nik without a second thought. “It’s okay,” Lev whispered. “I promise.”

Nik pressed his face in Lev’s neck, still crying. Eventually he said, “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Lev promised. “It’s okay.” He pressed a kiss to the side of Nik’s head. “I don’t care what happened.”

“Does Cameron know?” Nik whispered.

“Yes,” Lev said honestly. “We were waiting for you to tell us.” He stroked Nik’s hair. “At your own pace.”

Nik stiffened under Lev’s hands. “Is he mad at me?”

“No.” Lev cupped Nik’s face. “Neither of us are. We just want you taken care of.”

Nik nodded against Lev’s neck. “Okay.”

Lev closed his eyes. “Okay,” he repeated softly. He patted Nik’s hair again. “Nik? While we’re on deep and scary subjects, do you wanna talk about the mate with a capital M thing, or...?”

“Not really.”

“We can wait,” Lev promised. They’d avoided it since his heat. He could wait a bit longer.

Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis @idreamonpaper

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #ch: cameron #ch: nik #ch: ash #ch: biela

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stebeans · 3 years

Text

She-Ra Inspired Actor AU - IV

Cast List (so far):

Taylor Cruz - Adora/She-Ra

Maya Sanchez - Catra

Jessica Cho - Glimmer

Marcus Patterson - Bow

Mei Lin - Frosta

Alexandria - Scorpia

Emmaline Lee-Scott - Queen Angela

Jacqueline Emery Grey - Shadow Weaver

Taylor did not run. Ever. It was against her very nature. She never ran to catch a bus that was just departing, she used to stroll into class minutes after the late bell and she’d bet her past gym teachers were now probably grey in the hair from all the stress she had caused in gym class...

But now.

Now she was practically sprinting in a dead run across the studio lot towards the brick building one of the passing assistants had pointed out. Ha! If Mr. Brody, her seventh grade gym teacher, could see her now he’d probably be crying tears of joy seeing as he was always pushing her towards to join the track team. Something about her body build, lithe and toned, had made him believe she could be the next Usain Bolt. It was a pipe dream. No one could ever be the next Usain Bolt unless there was some sort of cloning device. And as if she would be caught dead wearing those gym shorts.

If only her damn alarm clock went off when it should have, Taylor wouldn’t be tearing like a bat out of hell. Apparently some time during the night she had knocked her phone charge loose from the flimsy wall outlet of her crappy apartment resulting a dead battery that never got charged. To make matters worse her beat-up Prius had chosen today of all days to finally break down forcing her to spring for an Uber she could barely afford. Taylor had sat in traffic on the I-105 for hours, her leg bouncing with anxiety and internally debating if she should just fuck it and continue on foot because anything was better than the painful crawl of the worst-known traffic in LA. She would know, being a born native and all.

Taylor cursed her string of bad luck that had resulted her in being late for the first cast meet/table read. She had spent endless nights and every waking second between shifts at the restaurant and a popular juice bar, studying the script front to back, since it had been dropped off at her door a few weeks back. She had wanted to come prepared. To prove everyone that she wasn’t a risky choice. A mistake. A liability. Taylor was going to be the best damn She-Ra the world has ever known.

Her sneakers squeaked against the linoleum flooring as she skidded into the building, eyes squinting against the brightness of the fluorescent lights. Damn. Not only was she late but now she was sweaty. Ugh, Taylor could feel her damp t-shirt clinging to her back from underneath her signature leather jacket. She slowed to a stop just before the door, huffing and puffing, ignoring the nagging voice pointing out just how out of shape she was. She shot a glance down at her worn leather wristwatch, ten minutes late, not too bad but not great for a first impression. It took a minute to fix herself up as best as she could but at least she didn’t look like a hot mess. Grasping the door handle, Taylor could hear the muffled yet elated chatter beyond the door and without wasting another second she pulled the door open.

The view before her surprised her a little. The room was full of people, both cast and crew Taylor surmised with the handful of people staring intently at their clipboards as they made little notes in the margins. People hung out in little groups, making small conversations with shy smiles and nervous glances. Despite the awkward tension that hung in the air (typical for a first time cast meet) the room didn’t seem as stuffy and unwelcoming as the table reads she had attended in the past. It was usually full of pretentious lead actors already attempting to exert their dominance and one or two fellow male co-stars acting chummy with her.

Just as she was about to step forward to make her entrance a round of laughter erupted near the back of the room, rising above the idle chatter and garnering a few curious looks. Her gaze wandered over to the cheerful group, taking in the small group that somehow was making so much commotion. A short Asian girl had her head tilted back, roaring with laughter and it wasn’t until the taller black male had doubled over clutching his stomach, he was laughing so hard, did she catch the familiar wild mane of hair and wiry stature. Her mouth dropped open, her mind going blank and despite the distance she immediately— and inadvertently—caught Maya’s eyes from across the room. There was no mistake that Maya had recognized her the same time she did and it was quite unfortunate that Maya had been mid-sip when they had caught each other gazes because the girl had practically snorted water out of her nose in disbelief.

It would’ve been quite comical for Taylor had she not been internally panicking and all she could think about was Maya. And that she was here. At the cast meet for She-Ra. Maya. Here. With her. It had been a couple months since she last saw the girl and while she was banking on the shot she wouldn’t run into her again ever since the chemistry test from hell, Taylor knew better that while LA was a large city filled with hundreds of thousands of people, the chances of meeting one another in an audition was quite high. The Hollywood world wasn’t as large as everyone made it out to be.

Caught off guard and shocked beyond belief, Taylor stayed frozen at the doorway. Her mind just barely registering what was happening as Maya descended into a fit of forced hacks and haphazard coughs. Taylor winced slightly at the choking sounds and unwanted attention Maya was receiving. If people weren’t paying attention before, they were now as a few of them gathered around her, worry etching their faces. Yikes, that was one way to stand out at cast meet, Taylor supposed.

Taylor watched Maya wave off their concern with a watery smile and flimsy thumbs up before meeting her eyes once again, as if confirming she wasn’t just imagining things. Taylor didn’t blame her. She too had done a double-take because what were the freaking chances they would meet again? Especially during the table read for She-Ra considering their chemistry test from hell for said production?

Despite the shock, confusion and lingering guilt from how Taylor had last left things, she couldn’t pull her gaze away. It surprised how fast the incredulous look was wiped away from Maya’s face. Now Taylor couldn’t read her. She didn’t look happy because yeah, she was kind of a bitch the last time they talked but she didn’t seem un-happy. Sort of indifferent? Which honestly, Taylor could work with that. She squared her shoulders. She was going to woman-up, approach Maya and apologize. Maybe she’ll convince her to have a re-do introduction. A blank slate. It was of course for the best considering they would now be cast mates for the foreseeable future. It would be the professional thing to do.

She was going to rip off the band-aid and set aside her ego for once. Taylor inhaled deeply took a step forward only to be almost immediately deterred by an arm wrapping around her shoulders. “Taylor!” The Director greeted with a cheer. “So glad you made it! Now that our star is here we should get started, I bet everyone is excited to finally get the ball rolling, I know I am!” The Director clapped her hands until everyone’s attention was on her. “Okay everyone gather around, gather around!” She called out, corralling the occupants to the front of the room, where Taylor now noticed was clear of any furniture and spacious enough for the Director to instruct everyone to form a wide circle.

Oh no. If Taylor was right – and from the round object the Director was rolling in her hands – she was. Taylor felt a wave of dread fill her. She hated theatre games. Despised them actually. Some people thought it was a fun and brilliant way to break the ice between actors but Taylor hated it with a passion, almost as much as she hated running. She didn’t have the natural charisma or friendly disposition to easily befriend people. It would take more than some theatre game to warm her up to others and usually people didn’t have the patience or care to get to know her, already passing judgement in the first few minutes they meet her.

It shouldn’t surprise Taylor that Maya’s eyes lit up at the sight of the foam baseball, with how eager the Latina found everything. Unable to hold back the eye roll as Maya strolled towards the front of the room, hauling her new friends along with her with a cheery glint in her eyes. Apparently that was all it took because the rest of the room began to converge to the front, languidly following after Maya. Funnily, Taylor slipped through the crowd in the opposite direction towards the tables. “Looks like we got our first volunteer!” The Director announced joyfully and Taylor watched as Maya easily caught the ball in her hand, squeezing and examining the colourful foam ball.

Taylor took her sweet time, randomly choosing one of the free seats left and slowly pulling her shoulder bag from where it hung limply at her side. It was obviously well-used, the weather so worn it was soft to the touch but despite it, it was Taylor’s most prized possession. The shoulder bag was a gift from her grandmother, her first true fan, a believer in her talents and pillar of support from anything from her floundering career in acting to her love life, or lack thereof in this case. Carefully placing the bag on the table, Taylor ran a hand over the flap for good luck. It wouldn’t compete against her grandmother’s unwavering tone as she wished her good luck or the following warmth of her loving embrace but it was the next best thing. Pretending her shoes needed re-tying, which actually wasn’t that far from the truth after nearly losing one on her jog over, Taylor took her sweet time in an attempt to prolong the inevitable.

The chatter within the room rose to an excitable level that had Taylor grimacing. After milking as much time as she could, Taylor straightened and glanced at the circle of her cast mates. She met Maya’s challenging gaze from across the room where the other actress was confidently tossing the ball in the air with a single hand, her eyes never once straying away from Taylor’s. Fine. If Maya wants to play, she’ll play. If that was how it was going to be. Taylor shrugged her leather jacket off with jerky movements, draping it across the back of the chair and strolling to the group where she planted herself directly across from Maya, meeting her challenging stare with one of her own.

As the ball was thrown at her with the speed and projection of a freaking rocket, Taylor barely had the time or reaction to bring her hands up before it whipped her in the face, her hands stinging despite the foam filling of the ball. So. Turns out she was wrong and Maya wasn’t feeling quite so indifferent after all. Feeling a dozen or so expectant eyes on her, Taylor nearly dropped the ball with how sweaty her palms had gotten. In front of a camera Taylor had no issues with her confidence. She could act the hell out of her character, she could play the dumb blonde, the air head cheerleader, the golden child of a popular tv series but when the cameras were put away and it was just her, no script, no fake persona, Taylor was as vulnerable as a baby bird. “Um, hi?” She gulped, feeling her throat dry up like the Sahara Desert.

The Director smiled encouragingly. “Why don’t you tell us who you are, something about yourself, who you will be playing in the show and a little fun fact if you will?”

“Right.” Taylor gulped. “Right. Well…I’m Taylor Cruz.” There was a chorus of friendly “hello Taylor’s” that helped ease her nervousness. “I will be playing Adora and I guess She-Ra by extension. I’m nineteen and a fun fact about me is uhh…” Taylor forced herself to think but with everyone’s focus on her she drew a blank. “I umm, I know all the words to ‘Baby Got Back’…”

Her “fun fact” was met with silence and Taylor could feel her cheeks warm up rapidly. A snort of laughter broke the quietness and Taylor’s eyes narrowed at Maya who grinned at her stupidly, waving off her uncontained laughter. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She apologized between pursed lips, failing to hold back her laugh. “It’s just…it was so unexpected.” The rest of the crew joined in a light chuckle and a towering woman beside her clapped her on the shoulder that nearly sent her flying.

Taylor could’ve sworn her cheeks were on fire and she wanted nothing more for the floor to swallow her whole. “It’s not something I’m proud of.” She added not wanting to give the room of strangers the wrong impression but nonetheless her comment elicited another round of good-natured laughter.

“Well I guess that means we will have to plan a karaoke night soon.” The man next to Maya said cheerfully, who Taylor would later learn to be Marcus.

Everyone nodded encouragingly and even Maya sent her a grin that looked less mocking and more in amusement. She glanced at the director, the obvious leader in this torture game, shooting her a what now?look, hoping that she would understand. “That’s great Taylor, I’m sure we’ll get you on stage soon enough. I bet everyone is looking forward to hearing you sing.” A whoop and a joyous ‘hell yeah!’ cut in that had everyone chuckling anew. “Why don’t you toss the ball to someone and they will repeat your name before they introduce themselves. We’ll continue the process until everyone has had a chance. Anyone who messes up a name will be severely punished.” The Director teased, giving Taylor the go ahead which Taylor was too happily relinquish the pressure to the next unfortunate person.

Taylor lifted the foam ball, all the ready to throw it back at Maya but she overlooked one crucial fact. She didn’t own one athletic bone in her body and while the intended target had been Maya, she nearly taken out the eye of another woman standing two person’s down from her mark. Taylor attempted to play it cool, as if that was who she was aiming for all along but by the raised eyebrow from Maya she could surmise she wasn’t as successful in the ruse. Thankfully everyone else seemed to have not noticed and was more than happy to get the theatre game started.

While Taylor had cursed her luck during her intro, she was relieved that she had gone first. A few people had jumbled up the order of the names or had outright gotten them wrong and were forced to do pushups while everyone booed and teased mercilessly. One pushup would already be…pushing the limit, pun not intended, for Taylor.

It was funny cause in the end the last person to be introduced was Maya, who caught the wavering ball before it smacked into Jessica – or Jess as she preferred – with relative ease. “Hi it’s nice meeting everyone.” She greeted the group shyly and of freaking course, repeated all the names in the room without issues. “My name is Maya Sanchez and I am seventeen years old. I just graduated high school and my fun fact is that my first love is softball and we have been going steady for ten years now.”

If Maya hadn’t surrendered the fact or if Taylor hadn’t seen her pick up the uniform from the floor the first time they met, it was obvious with the way Maya handled the ball with ease, tossing it up from hand to hand, adding spin so the rainbow coloured ball blurred in a magnitude of colours in the air. “Oh! That’s cool!” Marcus remarked. “Are you any good?”

Maya smiled sheepishly, raising one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I’m alright.” She replied and Taylor had a feeling that she was being too modest for her own good.

As anxious as she was at the beginning of the ice-breaker game, the ball tossing and questions did its intended job as Taylor could feel the tension release from her shoulders. Admittedly it had been a fun and efficient way to get to meet her new co-stars and the production team. It wasn’t as terrible as she had thought and she even chatted with Alexandria, the tall giant of a woman with long black hair that fell past her broad shoulders, who would be playing Scorpia. She also happened to be super kind which was highlighted when a few people had trouble completing their set of pushups as punishment, Alexandria had dropped to floor and had completed the penalties on their behalf without breaking a sweat that had Taylor slightly, just slightlyjealous.

If it weren’t for her easy smile and kindness, Taylor already knew she would like Alexandria. The woman was unapologetically herself. Where many actresses in Hollywood fought to be tall and skinny, Alexandra looked like she could easily out bench press the guys in the room. She was strong and she was kind, something that was quite rare in Hollywood and Taylor had already made a silent vow to start hitting the gym more regularly. She wasn’t going to cut it as She-Ra with her noodle arms. Maybe she would even ask Alexandria for some tips.

The team was now gathered around the tables. Finally they were going to get down to business and back into Taylor’s comfort zone. Plus she couldn’t wait to jump into her new role. Pulling her well-used copy of the script where all her lines were highlighted with little handwritten notes and questions that she had for the production team. She had made sure she had studied the script as best she could in preparation for the day. The first page was filled with notes, mostly about questions about the stunt work. This role as Adora was going to be Taylor’s most challenging and vigorous yet and to be honest she was more than a little nervous.

The opening scene was mostly action filled and of course being the title character, Taylor had first honor of opening the show. It was tricky when you were the first person to read at the very first table-read. It all fell on the first reader to set the tone. Was she going to play it cool and comfortable and just read her lines normally? That may send the wrong idea as she didn’t want to come off as lazy or unexcited about her role. But if she went hard, she might look too enthused and everyone was going to be forced to match her intensity. She had internally struggled on how she was going to play her role today but after the ice-breaker game everyone seemingly eager and radiating with excitement, Taylor went with her gut feeling. “Hey Princess.” She growled, trying to make herself sound intimidating. “You lookin’ at me?”

Luckily Andrew (playing Kyle) and Brianna (playing Lonnie) were all too happy to play up their readings too and soon they had set the tone for the table read. The first act was flying by as they had skipped through the action scenes and the introduction of Catra came all too soon. Taylor could feel her palms clam up as she played with the edges of her script.

“Hey Adora…how’s it hanging?” Maya chirped in now, her voice deep and teasing.

Taylor was taken aback as soon as Maya read her first line and nearly missed her cue. Was Maya’s voice always so raspy? Shaking her head clear, Taylor had forced her eyes up, dismissing her script. She had this part all memorized already. “Catra.” She grunted out in annoyance. “Do you really show up late and let us do all the hard parts? That is low.” Taylor admonished, eyes on Maya who stared back with an excited glint in her eyes. “Even for you.” Taylor finished off.

“Awwww.” Maya cooed lowly, her eyes not leaving Taylor’s. Apparently Taylor wasn’t the only one who had memorize her lines. “You know nothing’s too low for me.” She said before letting out a high pitched cackle that had the cast and crew sharing amused smiles. “Now come on. You look stupid hanging down there.” Maya said, adding a hint of reverence instead of admonishment that Taylor had been imagining on her solo read-throughs.

The two had disregarded their scripts and had ignored the rest of the room as they exchanged lines, playing off one another and Taylor could feel herself ease into her role as Adora. From the corner of Taylor’s eyes she could see the Director and Producer exchange a proud smile. They weren’t the only ones who felt the chemistry. It was quite ironic really given how they didn’t really get along in real life. If only the others knew what had truly happened before today.

Taylor couldn’t remember laughing so hard at a table-read before. When it had come to the confrontation between Queen Angela and her daughter Glimmer in the throne room. Jessica Cho, who Taylor had overheard was mostly in the voice-acting scene and the beautiful and revered actress Emmaline Lee-Scott who played the Brightmoon Queen, were just so natural with one another despite just meeting for the first time today. They had read their lines so perfectly with just the right amount of huffing, scolding and annoyance of a typical mother-daughter dispute that had the whole room in stitches. It was a welcomed follow up from her read-through with Jacqueline Emery Grey who would be playing the role of Shadow Weaver. Jacqueline was just as famous as Emmaline Lee-Scott and playing opposite of her, even for a short moment was enough to leave Taylor star struck. She was glad for the break so she could calm her racing heart and gather herself again.

It had taken nearly all day but the first table read was a success. By the end everyone had eased into their roles and it seemed the Casting Director was now fully committed to the cast. They had all played off one another and the energy in the room was high and full of potential. It was the first time in a long while that Taylor was genuinely excited to go to work. The department heads was thanking everyone for the day and were handing out the upcoming schedule while Taylor was shoving her belongings in her bag. She followed Maya’s movements, watching the other girl slip on her backpack and waving off her new friends Jess and Marcus. They were the last of the stragglers and Taylor decided that it was now or never.

“Hey! Umm Maya? Can I talk to you real quick?” Taylor approached hesitantly, shoving her hands into her pockets.

Maya looked uncertain but nonetheless she nodded. “Sure. I have time. My mom is a little late. Traffic, you know?”

Taylor nodded gravely, grasping onto the lifeline Maya was throwing. “Oh I know. Kind of one of the reasons I was late. So much for a good impression.” She shrugged.

“Eh, I think you did alright Cruz.” Maya said with a small smile.

“I umm… I thought you were pretty great today too.” Taylor praised. “We make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah, we do.” Maya agreed easily. “Near-death experience aside.” She joked with a wry grin. “I had a lot of fun today.”

Sucking in a deep breath Taylor turned to face Maya head on. “Listen. About before. I just…wanted to apologize. I was being rude and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve any of that and…I’m sorry.”

Taylor fought the urge to fidget underneath Maya’s calculating gaze. After a moment that had Taylor sweating Maya seemed to recognize her sincerity cause she broke into a soft smile. “Thanks Taylor. It means a lot and I accept your apology. I also wanted to thank you.”

Puzzled, Taylor was taken aback. “Thank me? For what?”

“For the first time we met. In the audition room? You stood up for me when that other actress was giving me a hard time and I never got to properly thank you for that. I was super nervous if that wasn’t apparent.” Oh, it definitely was. “And I knew it was a long shot but it’s rare to see any roles for people of colour. I just took a chance, however slim it is.”

“Well I’m glad it paid off.” Taylor stated. “I’m looking forward to working with you Maya Sanchez.”

“Same here Cruz.” Maya replied with her easy-going grin.

An old sedan pulled up to the curb and Maya waved happily at her mother. “Well that’s my ride. My mom’s going to want to hear a play-by-play.”

“Your mom sounds pretty cool.”

“She has her moments.” Maya smiled warmly. “Hiya Mama.” She greeted as soon as she opened the passenger door.

“Maya! How was your day? You have to tell me everything. Is this a new friend? Mija don’t be rude, introduce us unless you are embarrassed of your mother?”

“Of course not Mama.” Maya replied with a teasing roll of her eyes. “Mama, this is my co-star Taylor Cruz. She will be playing She-Ra. Taylor this is my mom, Gabriella.”

Taylor stepped forward, hunching half-way through the passenger seat to offer Maya’s mom a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Sanchez.”

She could sense Maya’s mother analyzing her, her eyes were sharp just like her daughter. The critical scrutiny must’ve ran in the Sanchez family. Taylor sweated under her gaze, knowing she looked out of place with her multiple piercings. Never had she been so nervous meeting a mother before. After a moment that felt like forever Maya’s mother clasped her hand in a firm handshake. “It’s Gabriella, my dear but aren’t you a sweetheart. Do you need a ride home Taylor?”

It was then Taylor remembered her beat-up car sitting uselessly on the side street back home. She had been so caught up with the events of the day she had forgotten to call for an Uber. The ride home was probably going to eat a good chunk of her savings too. “I took an Uber this morning. I just need to track one down –”

“Oh that won’t do! Take a seat Taylor we can drop you off home.”

“Mrs. Cruz, I mean Gabriella,” Taylor corrected when the older woman shot her a look. “I appreciate the offer but –”

Maya laughed, cutting Taylor off again. “It’ll save us some time if you just give up now and get in the car. My mom won’t take no for an answer. It’s in our culture. It’s best if you don’t offend my mother by saying no to her hospitality.”

“Of course not!” Taylor stuttered, unable to wrap her head around what was happening. She was used to fending for herself and none of her co-stars had ever cared if she made it home or not before, let alone her mother when she had been her manager. “Thank you for offering. I guess I’ll take you up on it. But I can help pay for the gas? I’m just a little out of LA, it’ll be a drive.”

“Nonsense my dear. It’ll be nice getting to know one of Maya’s new friends.”

She stared helplessly at Maya who shrugged and motioned to the car. “Come on Cruz. Let’s get you home.”

The ride was a only a little bit awkward. Fortunately Gabriella was able to fill in the silence with questions about the day, sounding just as enthusiastic as if she was starring the show also. Taylor had sat mostly in silence, answering questions only when Gabriella had attempted to pull her into the conversation but the older Sanchez had quickly learned that Taylor was more content with just listening in. Taylor was leaning her head against the glass window, watching the city skyline pass by and thinking about the day and what was to come. Things were finally looking up. Her co-stars were pretty cool and friendly, the production team was proud of the show they were making and she was on friendlier terms with Maya. They weren’t buddy-buddy but at least she was able to clear the air. Maybe they would never be friends but they both knew that they were good for the show and Taylor couldn’t wait to get started.

#catradora #myfic #catra #adora #she ra and the princesses of power #spop #Maya as Catra #Taylor as Adora #also on ao3

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scribble-blog · 4 years

Text

A Bird in the Hand (is worth the Bee in your bonnet)

Hey everyone!!!!! Somehow I started writing a ChoDamian one shot (and then I just kept writing.) This is entirely the Maribat discord’s fault. Enjoy!

The first time Chloé meets Damian Wayne, he is 11 and she is 10 and they both hate the world and are desperate for their parents’ approval. He doesn’t talk to her but she can sense it on him like the sunny flora perfume masks her mother’s cold personality and unused heart, the way her daddy senses weakness in his opponent’s when it’s time for re-election, the way she finds out each secret her school mates have so they will never try to turn on her and hers. Damian hates the world, and wants his (polite, distant, but still somehow open) fathers approval.

The first time Chloé meets Damian Wayne she decides she hates him, too.

Their parents talk for what seems like hours and Chloé checks her nails with the bored expression her mother taught her and she doesn’t let Damian Wayne catch her staring as she tries to figure him out. He glares out of a window and doesn’t look at her once.

Infuriating.

The second time Chloé meets Damian Wayne, he’s at least learned to be enough of a gentleman to talk to a lady when presented with one. She raises her nose in the air when he (clearly forced by his father) asks her to dance at the Wayne Gala that her mother attends more for the sheer status of it than any true enjoyment. He holds himself a bit different, looks more human and less ready to rip out the throat of anyone that gave him a funny look. She opens her mouth.

“I’m not going to da-“

“Clary would love to go off and dance with you,” Her mother says sugar sharp behind her, and Chloé grits her teeth and takes his hand.

“I wouldn’t want to dance with you for all the money your daddy has.” She tells him, scathingly, to his face. “Be lucky you’re in my mother’s good graces.”

“I might be, for all the money my daddy has,” he returns coldly, his green eyes cutting. She misses Adrien, his mother who is warm like summer and his father who is brisk like autumn and him, Adrien, bright as spring. “But you aren’t.”

“Like you were waiting in a line to sweep my off my feet,” Chloé sneers. “Looks like we all have to do things we’d rather spit on to get mommy or daddy’s approval.”

His grip on her hand tightens infinitesimally. His face, already blank, shuts down further.

“I’ll count the minutes until we’re both free.”

She lets her manicured nails just dig in the tiniest bit. “Only if you’ll let me count the seconds.”

The third time Chloé meets Damian Wayne, he’s more human-like than ever before, but she supposed she’ll give him the year of growth since the last time they’ve run into each other.

Richard Grayson-Wayne has taken over while Brucey-Bear, as her mother simpers, is in absentia. They poor boy sweats as he talks to her mother, hashing our some business deal that his adoptive feather could have turned with a few easy words and a smile.

Her mother’s lips curl into a grin like a shark tasting blood.

“You should really be sending out warnings,” Chloé says flippantly. “If it’s going to get this easy now that your daddy’s gone, my mother could send someone who isn’t nearly as tough as her and they’d still run roughshod over your incompetent brother.”

To her shock and - delight, where did that emotion come from- he actually rolls his eyes. “If my ‘brother’ was fumbling any more, he’d be putting the whole company in your mother’s pocket.”

She startles them all with a surprised laugh, and stops it the second it’s out, but it’s enough for all three of them to look at her. Her mother, cunning delight, Grayson, surprised bemusement, and Damian Wayne, self satisfied and smirking.

After a second the two adults go back to talking and suddenly it is just her and Wayne, tasing quips about the way her mother is practically pouncing on this poor man like a lion on a gazelle.

“Shouldn’t you be against him being this bad at business?” Chloé finally says. “After all, it is your daddy’s money that being washed into my mother’s wallet.”

And Damian snorts. “I thought you didn’t care at all about my Daddy’s money.”

She gives him a sidelong glance. “Well, I don’t at any rate.”

The fourth time Chloé meets Damian Wayne, it’s been four years and he’s apparently been presumed dead for half of it. The later half, but now both he and Bruce Way are available for her mother to shove her towards, and so she goes. She’s tired of Hawkmoth, tired of Paris, but also already tired of New York with her mother, and Damian looks so... drained. So unlike the boy she once gave one sharp laugh to.

“Cory doesn’t mind, do you, darling,” Her mother titters and Chloé grits her teeth.

“Her name is Chloé,” Damian says, and Chloé’s heart skips a beat.

“It’s just a little nickname,” her mother laughs it off. Damian’s eyes are on her, and she can only guess at what he sees.

“We’re old enough to wander away while the adults are doing business now,” he tells her, scowling. She takes the hint and starts marching away, letting him follow her. There’s a small park right outside the building, and she misses Parisian air but this is the closest substitute she can get.

“You lives with your mother, right, Wayne?” She asks him once they’re both on a bench outside, away from the looming presences of their parents. It feels easy and freeing to say these things here, where she doesn’t live, to a boy she’s met three times before and shared one laugh with. “Was it easier or harder?”

He grimaced, but doesn’t answer immediately. She, for once, gives someone a bit of time and space.

“My mother is not a good person.” He finally says. “Her rules were easier. My father’s are more rewarding.”

She desperately tries to pretend she doesn’t want to cry. She has never wanted anything but her fathers time and her mothers approval. Damian seemed to have his fathers approval, and at least when he had been with her, his mothers time. “What if there aren’t any rewards. What if no matter what you do you only get the same thing, over and over again. What if it’s all good things but you don’t care anymore.”

He looks uncomfortable. She realizes she’s let a tear fall and she hardens herself again. “Ignore me. I- I didn’t say anything.”

They sit in silence. When his phone vibrates and he tells her their parents are done negotiating, they take the elevator back up in silence. She exchanges her polite goodbyes with Mr. Wayne.

Damian catches her shoulder before she walks out again though.

“Stop thinking about the rewards. Just find something good. And hang on to it.”

She thinks immediately of the few times where she became Queen Bee. The few times where she did something unequivocally right.

She’d already lost it.

The fifth time she meets Damian Wayne, she’s been Abeille for three months.

It had taken time to convince Ladybug. Time to convince her classmates. Her- employees. But she was trying to hold on to something, no matter how fragile.

She finally got it when she’d stumbled into the bathroom just in time to see Marinette transform into Ladybug.

“A bathroom, Dupain-Cheng?” Chloé had said in shock. “Hardly high security.”

Marinette had screamed.

Chloé hadn’t even, like, blackmailed her into giving her the comb. She’d just- kept her mouth shut. Kept the secret. Made an excuse or two for Marinette when she was dead on her feet.

There’s been some akuma that just wouldn’t quit, and Ladybug has shown up at her window. She’d said yes. New suit, new look-

Abeille.

And now she was looking at Damian Wayne, who made her- wake up, who reminded her of why she’d felt good as Queen Bee, who- was looking at her.

“Bourgeois,” he greeted. “Not even a welcome?”

“My mother isn’t here to force us to play nice,” she teases. She should be - running away, should be playing the part of the bitch, should be doing anything as long as it doesn’t allow Damian to bring up her weakness from before.

Instead she smiles. Friends are weird like that, she’s realized since Marinette Chose her again. “What brings you to France?”

“Some extended business of my father’s” he shrugs. She remembers the way he had hunched petulantly at 11, looking half ready to attack someone if it got him out of their first meeting. He looks- better now. More whole. Less feral. “It’s a long term deal, I believe. A month, at least. I believe we’re searching for a school I can temporarily attend lessons at, while I’m here.”

“Our daddies can pull some strings. You should come with me to Francois DuPont.”

The thing is, she means it. She imagines being able to see Damian’s dumb face everyday and it’s not a bad thing. She imagines him meeting Mari and Adrien and she doesn’t cringe away.

The next day Mme. Bustier announces a new students.

Chloé has met Damian Wayne countless times before she realizes she wants to hold his hand.

And possibly, like, save him from Akumas but in a Superhero sweeping off their Sweetheart way more than her everyday “let’s save Paris” activities.

Marinette, the traitor, laughs at her.

“It’s normal to have a crush on someone who you like, and you enjoy their company, even if I don’t get it,” Marinette makes a face, probably thinking of that rocky first few days. Why was it whenever Chloé brought a friend to class they immediately and very accidentally made an enemy of Marinette? Was it just rich boys in general?

Adrien was encouraging, but the boy was so wholesome and supportive he might as well be a house foundation. Chloé couldn’t tell if he was behind her because he thought it would work or because he just wanted Chloé to be happy and this is what Chloé wanted.

But for once, Chloé is scared.

Adrien was safe to latch onto. Adrien was her brother, her friend, her constant and confidante.

Damian Wayne is, without question, a much worse crush to have because it’s real.

She suddenly regrets ever making fun of Marinette and her inability to hold a conversation with Adrien.

She doesn’t stumble and fumble and bumble but she does start glaring at him whenever he comes near her and she starts ghosting him because she doesn’t know how to handle this-

And then Robin starts showing up to Akuma fights.

It’s funny, how absolutely angry someone can make her. At one point, that someone had been Marinette. After that, Lila before she, Adrien, and Mari has dethroned her. And now-

“Watch out,” she snarls as Robin steps in at just the wrong moment, again. She manages to avoid him with her venom but only barely, and the akuma breaks away.

After the battle, she hunts him down. “Listen to me, Birdbrain. Ladybug might have accepted your help, and you might have a few years on us as heroes, but when Ladybug makes a plan- you follow it. This is our home, our villain, our fight, and you stepping in it like you understand what’s going on and how we work is going to get somebody hurt.”

“Abeille,” Ladybug says softly, and Chloé almost growls.

“No. I’m tired of him waltzing in like this, usually ruining the plan and setting us back. Either he steps up and starts acting like a part of the team, or he stops showing up at all, because as much as you hate to admit it, he’s doing more harm than good.”

Robin’s face twists, and she can just somehow feel that he’s going to say something that will make her angrier, and without thinking, she punches him. It cracks the knuckles of her hands, blooming with dull pain, and he cradled what looks like is going to turn into a nasty bruise on his cheek.

She bounds away before Ladybug or Chat or, god forbid, Robin could say anything else.

She finds herself later on Mari’s balcony. She gets fed cookies and swaddled in blankets and Mari just- listens. About Damian. About Robin. About her mother.

Damian lets her know two days later that he’ll be returning to Gotham in a few days. Ladybug tells her the same thing about Robin when they meet for patrol.

“He wanted me to pass on his apologies,” Marinette says gently. “He looked so awkward the whole time too. Said he wasn’t very good at making friends or keeping them and France didn’t seem to be helping him with either.”

It hits Chloé like a drum then.

Of course. Of course her dumbass friend was also a hero in his off hours. Was she ever going to make a friend who didn’t run around in a cape or a skintight suit?

“I have to go,” she says, and Marinette squeezes her hand.

She taps against the window she knows is Damian’s, for fucks sake, is he in a coma or something? He finally opens it, and she tumbled in and takes a chance.

“I know you’re Robin,” she says, and she watches him tense up, his eyes shifting as if looking for a way to lie. She doesn’t let him. “Pollen, buzz off.”

The transformation drops, and she is not Abeille. She is not a Bourgeois. She is just Chloé, standing in front of him.

“I think I’m in love with you,” she says, more honestly than she’s ever said anything. “And I have no clue what to do about it.”

He laughs, sharp, just the once, and her shoulders raise up, and she gets ready to- she doesn’t know, maybe throw herself back out the window?- when he grabs her hand.

“Chloé,” he says wryly, “your right hook is incredible.”

And then he kisses her, and she can’t exactly argue about that.

“We’re going to Gotham,” Chloé slaps the papers down in front of Marinette. “We took down Hawkass, Adrien’s already agreed, fuck the class-“

“Is this a kidnapping?” Marinette says calmly, stitching elegant embroidery into a pair of shoes. “Or do I even get a say?”

“You have a say. Your say just happens to be, ‘yes, Chloé, I’d love to run away to Gotham with you and Adrien to escape Paris and the memories of the terrorist who ruined our lives.’”

“There’s actually a pretty great fashion program at the university there,” Marinette says, handing her an open envelope, and Chloé sees the acceptance letter.

“You got in. Actually, fuck, you knew I was gonna do this and you applied preemptively.”

“Yes, Chloé, I’d love to run away to Gotham with you and Adrien to escape Paris and the memories of the terrorist who ruined our lives,” Marinette says. “When is Damian expecting you?”

Chloé just groans.

TAGLIST:

@ash-amg @vixen-uchiha @redscarlet95

#@redscarlet95 sorry this isnt daminette but i wasnt sure if youd want to be tagged in all my writing or just the daminette stuff!#lmk and ill remove you if you want #maribat #chlodamian #OOPS IT 2.5k WORDS

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Freezer Burn

I’m having to rush to post this because I’m at the river again, so I’ll clean this fic up and add a Read More when I get home. For now, enjoy!

———————

“It’s so pretty!” Kitty cried, bounding from the car towards the glittering frozen lake.

“Oi! Wait up!” Anne yelled, tugging on her puffy green coat and racing after her cousin. Cleves and Maggie were close on her tail, eager to get out in the open.

“Be careful!” Aragon shouted, helping the others take out all their things, thick wasn’t that much- a few chairs, some blankets, snacks and water bottles, items for games, and, of course, the ice skates.

Jane shook her head fondly with a laugh. “And there they go.”

“Dummies.” Aragon sighed, then smiled. “Come on. Let’s go catch up.”

They crunched through the thick layer of snow over the ground, chatting over what they were planning on doing. Behind them, another pair of footsteps trudged after them.

“Will you stop moping?” Jane sighed, swinging her head around to the girl who mimicked her appearance nearly exactly.

Joan wrinkled her nose. She folded her arms up closer to hold herself tighter and shuffled her feet nervously, then immediately regretted that decision when a few chunks of snow got into her boots. She shook her foot with a pitiful expression plastered on her tired face.

“It’s cold.” She said for the hundredth time.

“We know, dear,” Aragon said gently, although Jane could tell she was a little frustrated from the way she flared out her nostrils. She had been looking forward to this trip for a long time and definitely didn’t want it to be ruined for her. “But you’ll warm up soon.”

“How?” Joan said miserably. “Also, this is dangerous! An actual ice rink would be a lot better...” She looked around, as if she were expecting a glacier to suddenly appear and crush all of them.

“But expensive.” Jane pointed out.

“And packed.” Aragon added. She was getting more irritated by the second and kept glancing longingly at the frozen lake behind her. “Come on, it’s not that bad. You’ll have fun!”

Joan made a face and looked like she was trying to pull a scenario where she did have a good time, but wasn’t finding anything in the whirlwind that was her mind.

“But- but-” She scrambled after Jane and Aragon as they continued their trek. Cathy, Maria, and Bessie had already gone ahead and made it down to the bay, where they were currently putting on their ice skates (although Bessie was insisting that she didn’t need them). “What if we- we could- we could fall through! Or get hypothermia! Or frostbite!” She cast a nervous glance at her glove-covered hands, as if she were imaging what it would be like playing the keyboard without all her fingers. When she looked up again, Jane and Aragon were several paces away. “Wait!”

She caught up to the two queens, walking alongside Jane, who practically seemed like the pompous, more confident version of her. When they reached the shore, she took one glance at the lake and then backed up several steps.

“Come on, Joan,” Jane said with a sigh. “Don’t be such a buzzkill.”

Aragon laughed. “Real mature, Jane.”

Jane grinned at her, then crouched down to get her ice skates on. Aragon does the same, while Joan, unsurprisingly, hangs back. She’s now directed her attention to the others, who have already begun sliding on the ice. She took another step back.

“Joan, dear, everything will be fine.” Aragon told her. Joan gave her a betrayed look. “Jane, are you done?”

Jane laughed. “Go ahead and start without me. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Aragon nodded and hurried out onto the ice without a second of hesitation. Jane stood up a moment later, wobbling slightly on the ice skates. Behind her, she heard Joan mutter a soft, “Please be careful” before she joined the others on the lake.

Joan is left alone on the shore, sitting in a spot she’s dug out for herself without any snow. She hugged her knees and watched everyone have fun, but she couldn’t bring herself to join them. A million bad situations were running through her head: The ice cracking and everyone falling in, hypothermia, frostbite, falling through the ice again, a sudden blizzard and they all freeze to death, drowning- all of them drowning was her most persistent fear. And it was something they should be worrying about, too, but she guessed it didn’t cross their mind at all.

She sighed and rested her chin on her knees. She could already imagine what they were thinking about her: Why is Joan always so mopey? and Why does Joan always have to ruin this for us? and Why did Joan even come along if she’s going to act so miserable? and What’s wrong with Joan?. They were all just going on in their heads about how terrible she was, she just knew it.

Well, she didn’t need them. She could have fun on her own!

Joan stood up and explored down the perimeter of the lake, far enough to where she couldn’t hear the other’s voices, but close enough to where she could still see them. From her position, they were just colorful dots sliding haphazardly across the ice. Even from a distance it still made her nervous. How could they do something so stupid and dangerous?

She sighed and poked the ice with her foot worriedly, then immediately drew her leg back. She frowned and continued down the bay, deep in thought.

You’re dragging them all down, Her mind mumbled ruefully. You want them to like you, and yet you continue to act like this. A buzzkill. Is that what you want to be? The person who ruins everything for everyone?

Joan shook her head softly and glanced over her shoulder, hoping to see one of her friends coming to hang out or play with her. She perked up when she saw that someone was skating over to her, but then immediately deflated when she saw the hot pink of the jacket they were wearing.

“What do you want?” She grumbled at Kitty, who skidded to a halt in front of her on the ice.

“Ah, so you guessed I’m not over here for your bubbly personality,” Kitty said with a light giggle that earned her a scowl that could melt the ice beneath her feet. “I just wanted to talk.”

“About what?” Joan asked skeptically, eyeing the youngest queen up and down. She didn’t look like she was going to try anything, especially on those ice skates. Although they could probably cut her if she put them against her skin with enough force.

“Oh, you know,” Kitty twirled her wrist. She glanced momentarily back at the others. “Okay, I’ll just cut to the chase.” She inched further to the bay. “Joan, you’re kinda...bringing everyone else down.”’

“What?” Joan said sharply.

“You’re trying to convince everyone that they’re going to die or something.” Kitty clarified. “It’s weird. And kinda creepy.”

Joan crossed her arms. “Because being on fragile ice is dangerous!” She snapped, but Kitty rolled her eyes.

“We’re trying to have fun.” She said. She peered at Joan for a moment then tilted her head at her as if she were a peculiar art sculpture. “You know, I think I’ve finally got you figured out.”

Joan stepped back a little. “What?” She growled.

“You’re like a bomb.” Kitty declared. “That puts everyone in danger. And we’re all just waiting for when you’ll finally go off.”

Joan flinched as if she had been sprayed with the venom loaded in the young queen’s words. She took another step away, but Kitty just slid closer to her like a hideous poisonous snake just waiting to sink her fangs into her prey’s throat.

“You don’t think I don’t notice the way to eye Jane and I all the time?” Kitty went on. “It’s so creepy. You’re so jealous. You’re gonna pop one day and I’m scared you might hurt one of us.” She extended a hand and set it on Joan’s shoulder, smirking softly at the shivers she felt pulsing beneath her palm. “And I’m very worried about you. You need help.”

Joan clawed off Kitty’s hand and glared at the queen. She ruffled herself up to her full size, but even Katherine Howard was more intimidating than her.

“Get the fuck away from me.” She seethed. Kitty looked unfazed by her rage; her face continued to wear the mock-concerned expression that made Joan want to gouge her eyeballs out with her thumbs.

Oh dear, Joan thought, alarmed. Is that what Katherine meant? She glanced momentarily at her hands, half expecting them to be dripping with blood and eyeball fluids. No- no, of course not! Katherine doesn’t know anything about me! I’m not a bad person!

“Joey? Joey?” Kitty is waving a hand in front of Joan’s face. She smiled innocently at the scowl she earned. “There you are! You kinda drifted off for a moment.” Her mock-concern returned to her facial features. “Are you feeling alright?” She extended a hand to feel Joan’s forehead and it was slapped away.

“I said to leave me alone!” Joan barked. She advanced on Kitty, but jolted backwards the moment her foot touched the ice. Kitty laughed loudly- it was a terrible, high-pitched cackling noise that rattled in her ears.

“I expect no less from you,” She said, smiling crookedly. She slid back against the ice, moving elegantly on her skates. “Bye, Joey!”

Joan was left fuming, but her rage was quickly snuffed out when a cold breeze blew past her. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, staring down at the faint reflection glimmering back at her on the ice.

That bitch. Her mind seethed. The usual drizzle that cascaded through her head has picked up into a downpour of angry thoughts; Kitty being left out here ‘on accident’ and turning into a hot pink popsicle, Kitty getting pelted in the face with a snowball that has a rock hidden in it, Kitty falling through the ice and freezing to death.

She quickly silenced them, however. As much as she didn’t like the youngest queen, she didn’t want her dead. Not exactly. But she wouldn’t be devastated if she got hypothermia by some chance.

I’m not- I’m not a fucking bomb! If anyone is a bomb it’s her! She raged internally, stomping her foot against the frozen dirt blanketing the bay. With her trauma and tragic backstory and sadness! Oh, who am I kidding? She’s living in the lap of luxury. She’s anything BUT a bomb. She’s just a pampered pink Pomeranian! Haha...nice alliteration.

She shook her head, leering at the ice, which bounced back with a painfully bright glare. She scrunched her eyes shut and sighed.

I’m not dragging everyone down, either... I can have fun!

She stepped onto the ice, immediately backed away, and then took several seconds to try again. This time, she manages to get both feet onto the surface and stand there. The ice creams beneath her, but doesn’t crack. She took another step after a moment of waiting, then another, then another, until she’s far away from the shore. A feeling of pride welled in her chest, beating down the underlying sensation of fear and anxiety and worry.

Haha! Suck my ass, Katherine! Her mind declared triumphantly. Who’s a coward now?

She wasn’t up to skating, especially without proper skates, but she at least tried to slide a few inches. It was pretty fun- she could see why the others would enjoy this, but she definitely preferred to be at a proper ice rink.

Joan scooted herself around to face the distant figures of the queens and ladies in waiting, and was upset to see that they weren’t even looking in her direction. She really wanted them to see how she WASN’T a buzzkill and she DID know how to have fun, but they didn’t even seem to care about her anymore. They were too busy messing around on the ice and playing with some hockey sticks that were brought along to notice her.

Joan sighed and shivered as a cold breeze whisked past her. She waited for a moment longer, shifting her weight when her knees got tired, and heard a terrible, nightmarish sound from below her.

Crack-crack-crack.....

Cobwebs were spread out from the ice below one of Joan’s feet. They were thin, but deep trenches, like dreadful claw marks created by a horrible monster. Suddenly, nothing makes sense and that only makes her panic even more. The fear of the unknown keeps her mind from functioning rationally. She can’t breathe, she can’t run, she can’t escape.

Stay still. Her mind whispered to her. It’s not a drizzle nor a hurricane anymore, but a vicious hailstorm. Maybe you can call for help.

She looked back at the others, who were still sliding and skidding around without a care in the world, so oblivious to the danger she’s in just several meters away. She opened her mouth to yell for them, but nothing came out, not even a whimper or a whine. And even if she could, what could they do? If they got too close, the whole lake may collapse and they’ll all fall in. Why would they even help her, anyway? They’ve all proven that she’s just a nuisance. In fact, they would probably enjoy watching her freeze to death.

A star-shaped crack burst out from the first one, and a whimper finally surfaced in Joan’s throat. She looked up at the dark grey sky, a hot tear ran down her left cheek, and then the ice gave way under her feet and she plunged into the freezing water.

For a brief moment, she felt burning hot, but then the cold hit her like a thousand knives, sharp and insistent, driving the breath from her lungs. She tried to flounder to the surface, but even with the adrenaline rush momentarily teaching her how to swim, she still couldn’t get out. She couldn’t find the hole she fell through. She was trapped under a thick, impenetrable floor of ice.

Joan screamed, clawing desperately at the sheet of ice above her, but it does no good. Even when she hits at it, it doesn’t dent.

With a jarring shock, she realizes that this is how she died.

As her mind began to waver, succumbing to the cold, she cried for her parents to help her, but it's no use: they couldn't help her. They’re gone. Dead. And even if they weren’t, they wouldn’t help her, anyway. So, she cried for John, she cried for Jane, she cried for Aragon and everyone else, wishing that she had been more likable, that she didn’t stop them from doing stuff because she thought it was too dangerous and making them mad in the process, that she hadn’t have worried all the time, that she could actually call them her friends without her stomach sinking in a horrible, disbelieving way.

But it didn’t matter anymore. In just a few more moments, her lungs would finally give out, and then it would all be over.

———

“Holy shit!”

“Is she down there?!”

“What happened?! What’s going on?!”

“Oh my god—!!”

“Should I call an ambulance?!”

“What are you-”

“Where is she-”

“What is-”

“Mum, what are you doing?!”

The queens and ladies in waiting watched as Jane haphazardly sprinted across the frozen lake to the jagged hole created near the center and fell to her knees so hard cracks spread out beneath her. She crawled to the edge of the icy abyss and peered down, then scuttled backwards and frantically began scanning the ice until, suddenly, she raised her hands and began hitting at the surface. After a few swings, the ice shatters and she nearly fell in while grabbing at something. A moment later, she’s dragging something out of the water.

Joan.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jane cursed, staring in horror at the curled up body before her. She glanced momentarily at the others on the bay, then back at Joan, who was shivering in a horrifying way that reminded Jane of the way she had trembled after she gave birth to Edward.

Suddenly, Joan coughed and water came flooding out of her mouth. The freezing shock seemed to register in her body and she let out a strangled cry that’s thick with frigid lake water. She gargled on it, too weak to scream or even cough anymore.

“Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” Jane told her, cupping one of her cheeks and turning her face up to her. The shade of blue her skin has turned to terrified her. “Fuck... Fuck!”

Jane scooped Joan up into her arms and made a beeline for the shore. She could hear the ice breaking all around her, and for a few horrific moments her feet would dip into the freezing water below, but she managed to get back to the others.

“Holy shit!” Cleves cried, bug-eyeing the blue, shivering body in Jane’s arms. “Fuck, is she- is she okay?!”

“No!” Jane snapped, racing past them back to the cars. “She’s going to fucking freeze to death!”

The others hurried after her, exchanging looks behind her back. It was a little...odd for Jane to be so concerned about Joan of all people. Most of them would have guessed she would enjoy watching the music director sink to the bottom of the frozen lake and drown. But here she was, carrying Joan through the snow like a frantic search-and-rescue officer.

They all skidded to a halt in front of the cars. Joan was shivering even more than before and her teeth have started to clatter up against each other loudly. Her moon silver eyes were glassy and glazed over, but they stared up at Jane with hope that the woman wouldn’t let her die- that she would save her. And Jane looked determined to do just that.

“What do we do?” Jane snapped her head at Cathy, who jolted slightly under her sharp gaze. “How do we help her?”

Cathy stumbled over her words for a moment before she’s able to get her head on straight. “Well— first of all, stop being so rough with her!”

“I’m not being rough!” Jane growled. “Just tell me what to do!”

“We should take her to the hospital,” Maria piped up.

That seemed to wake Joan up, because the girl suddenly whimpered and shook her head stiffly.

“N-no,” She choked out through her chattering teeth. “N-n-no h-hospital...c-can’t...go...n-no, J-J-Jane d-don’t l-l-l-let them—”

Jane looked down at Joan and knew exactly what she was fearing. She gave Maria a hard stare.

“We’re not taking her to the hospital. That’ll make her worse.”

“Actually, believe it or not, hospitals do the exact opposite of that.” Anne pointed out.

Jane looked at her like she wanted to rip her head off and feed it to some vultures.

“Yes, so she can panic and have a possible heart failure from her anxiety?” She said. “Not happening.” She whipped her gaze back to Cathy. “Come on. You’re supposed to be the smart one who knows everything. Tell me what to do. How do I help her?”

Joan made a miserable noise in Jane’s arms and the queen held her closer to her chest. She buried her half-frozen face against it, desperate for warmth and clearly not caring if it took burrowing against a bosom to get it.

“Skin-to-skin contact.” Cathy blurted. “It’s- it’s not the only way, but it’s the best way. Body heat would be more efficient than blankets.”

Everyone seemed to share a moment of secondhand embarrassment, aside from Jane, who just looked determined. She nodded.

“Alright.”

“Okay, so who’s getting naked?” Kitty said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood, but Jane scowled at her and she hunched her shoulders in and looked away.

“Wait, hold on,” Anne said. “You’re not- look, I get it, we don’t want Joan to freeze to death, but getting naked with her? Can’t we just wrap her up in some blankets and then put her in a hot bath once we get back home?”

Cathy shook her head. “Putting her in hot water could make her heartbeat irregular. She may go into shock and, well-” A grim expression flitted through her eyes. “Die.”

“Good thinking, Anne.” Jane spit. “I’ll do it.”

“But-”

“She’s seen me give birth before,” Jane said to Aragon, who was trying to reprimand. Her eyes softened slightly when she spoke to the first queen, who, unlike everyone else, genuinely looked worried about Joan. “Look, I know you’re close to her, but it’ll be less awkward like this. She’s seen my vagina already- there will be less harm in me seeing hers.”

“I mean- that’s one way to put it.” Maggie tilted her head, blinking.

“I hope you won’t be looking down there.” Cleves added.

Aragon opened her mouth, possibly to argue, but just ended up saying, “Alright. But I’m driving you guys home.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jane said. She nodded at one of the cars and Cathy scrambled to open it. She turned around at the others after setting Joan inside. “A little privacy?”

The others jolted and immediately began dispersing. Jane turned her attention back to Joan, who suddenly looked much worse. She gently touched the girl’s icy cheek and she leaned into the touch.

“You’re going to be okay,” Jane whispered.

Joan doesn’t answer, but she does shudder when a breeze of frigid air whisked through the open door. However, it cannot compete with whatever shard of ice has taken lodging in her core. Jane shut the car door after Aragon handed her all the blankets they brought with them, then got to the process of peeling off all of Joan’s layers, including her undergarments. She wanted to keep them on to leave the poor girl some dignity, but they were practically frozen to her chest and groin, so they had to go, too.

After draping a green blanket that’s dappled with white spots over her shaking patient, Jane removed her clothing and then realized what exactly she was doing. She bit her lip, feeling flutters of embarrassment flit in her stomach, but she shoved them down. She could wallow in humiliation later.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as Joan’s freezing skin pressed against her warm stomach. She was still very wet, even without all her clothes on, so Jane started to wipe off her horribly blue skin with one of the blankets while holding her close to her. Joan nuzzled into her chest and Jane winced in embarrassment, but, once again, pushed it aside. Joan needed her warmth if she wanted to live.

“You’re going to be okay,” Jane whispered. She wrung out the wet blonde mop that was Joan’s hair and cold water came splashing down onto the blankets swaddling both of them. “I promise. You’re going to be just fine... I’ve got you.”

Aragon got into the driver’s seat a moment later, but didn’t look back at them, which Jane appreciated. She and Joan may have been both completely covered in blankets, but she still preferred to not be ogled at.

“How is she?” Aragon asked, pulling out of the small clearing.

“Still cold.” Jane answered, looking down at the head resting on her chest. She slipped a finger under Joan’s chin and lifted her head up slightly. “Joan? Joan?”

“‘S m’name,” Joan managed, peeling open one cloudy grey eye. “J-J-Jane?”

“Joan,” Jane said again, this time relieved. “You’re awake.”

“Th-th-think s-so,” Joan mumbled, then her body shuddered in that horrible, frightening way. She coughed weakly, which seemed to grate through her chest like icicle spears. “H-hurts...”

“I know, sweetie,” Jane whispered. The pet name gets Aragon to glance over for the first time, but her eyes quickly dart away when Jane looks up at the rearview mirror. “But you’re going to be okay. You just need to stay away for me.”

“Tired,” Joan panted, flopping her head back onto Jane’s chest. She was like a miserable, wet, shaking, bundle of anxiety in her arms.

“Here,” Aragon reached back. “Put this against her chest.” In her hand was one of the pouches they brought with them. It would heat up when squeezed.

“Thanks.” Jane took it and slipped one hand under the blankets to hold the pouch to Joan’s chest. Immediately, the girl whined faintly, attempting to squirm away, be failing and giving up after a moment. She resumed shaking and chattering her teeth and panting weakly for the rest of the drive. When her eyes would open, Jane noticed that they looked deeply troubled and stricken by something other than the hypothermia she was infected with. She wanted to ask about it, but knew it was hardly the time.

“Jane, Jane...” Joan began to mumble at some point in the drive. She pressed her face into the warmth of Jane’s neck, exhaling a shaking breath. Her fingernails scratched against the queen’s bare skin, desperate for a hold. “J-Jane...”

“I’m right here,” Jane whispered to her. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m right here, honey.”

“Jane...” Joan muttered again, this time more contently. She blinked a few times and looked down. “You’re naked.”

Aragon snorted, but immediately tried to smother it. Even Jane had to bite back a smile.

“Yes,” She said. “I am.”

“That’s weird.” Joan said. “Am I naked?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.” Joan closed her eyes and shivered against Jane’s stomach. “You’re really, really warm...”

“I know, love.” Jane stroked her wet hair. “And soon you will be, too.”

“By cuddling naked?”

Aragon laughed this time.

“Hush,” Jane told Joan softly. “You’re doing so good. Just keep breathing and I’ll make sure you stay warm.”

“I like that plan...” Joan mumbled tiredly.

When they finally reach the house, Joan has slipped off into a daze. She’s still shivering, but not as badly. Aragon smiled slightly.

“You did good, Jane,” She said. “I’ll take her from here. You can get dressed and then join us inside.”

“Yes, because I was definitely planning on walking up to our house naked.” Jane rolled her eyes playfully.

Aragon laughed and then picked Joan up, making sure she was still swathed in all the blankets. The moment she’s gone, Jane felt a strange chill run through her and her arms seemed a lot more empty. She shook her head, deciding to just cuddle with Kitty later to get over it.

But why did it feel like Kitty wouldn’t satisfy her...?

“Thank you, Jane.” Aragon said to her. “Really.”

Jane smiled at her, although she couldn’t take her eyes off of Joan.

“It was no problem.” She said. “Just— take care of her, okay? God knows she needs someone to...”

#six the musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #six fanfiction #katherine howard #anne boleyn #jane seymour #catherine of aragon #joan on the keys #maggie on the guitar #anna of cleves #maria on the drums #catherine parr #bessie on the bass

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melyaliz · 4 years

Text

Yellow Umbrella pt 2

Masterlist

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Girls nights and hook ups

Pairing: Loki x OC

Notes: So I’m thinking of doing little monologues at the beginning of each chapter. What do we think? Yay or nay?

Also, I don’t want to ruin this story’s whole… vibe but I want to say a few things about fantasy vs reality. In fantasy, it’s fun to think of yourself walking down a dark street with a handsome stranger, or leaving your best friends to let him buy you a drink, or even taking him home.

But remember that demon mafia lords and Loki are not real. In the real world making a safe choice over the romantic one is ALWAYS better. Because in the real world you can’t delete the chapter if you don’t like the way it’s going or make the guy turn out to be a hunky sweety if he’s not.

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

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Love.

What a Broad word.

You could tell someone that you love them and it could be a million different things.

It could be romantic. It could mean that person who when you hold them in your arms you feel whole in a way you never thought you could feel about anyone. It could make you burn like a bright fire and freeze like sub-zero.

But sometimes… sometimes love isn’t romantic.

Sometimes it’s a new college roommate. Walking into your dorm looking just as nervous as you have been feeling all day. Wide-eyed and praying that they had made the right choice leaving everything they had known to try something new.

Sometimes love is a drunken classmate finding you at a bar and pretending to be your lesbian lover to keep a creepy man away. Her hugging you tightly, smelling strongly of tequila, all while screaming at the guy “I would die for my beautiful woman!” even if you only spoke twice before in English class.

Sometimes love comes stronger and powerful while you're sitting there unsure what to do next after he leaves you. It holds unbreakable when the rest of the world seems to be crumbling around you.

Sometimes love is two girls who just understand you in a way that no one else ever was able too.

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

It all started with a text.

Having gotten out of a two-year relationship meant a few things.

ONE: Yue didn’t have any going out clothes.

TWO: She still struggled with the social graces of the hookup culture.

Lucky for her she had two best friends who had her back. Sammie and Riley.

They had all met in college and basically become inseparable. Sammie and Yue were Freshman roommates and Riley ended up moving in with them when her roommate became a psycho bitch.

They had always been there for each other. Always supported each other. No matter what stupid decisions or bad choices (most of the time right next to them). Through ex-boyfriends, psycho roommates, and bitchy coworkers.

“Cuddles!” Yue sang out hugging Riley who pulled her closer to her. While the sky hadn’t quite opened up in a downpour the dark looming clouds were threatening to start at any time.

“Come here lover,” the brilliant red-haired girl said, pulling open her Naruto umbrella. Bright Japanese cartoon characters smiling around the large covering. Sammie frowned, opening her own sensible umbrella checking her phone one more time before looking down the quickly darkening street for their driver.

“What happened to your umbrella?”

“Remember she gave it to that sexy stranger while high on Nyquil.”

“Oh yeah,” Sammie said fighting back a smile at the memory of a half-delirious Yue describing the half beaten Gothic boy she had met in the dead of the night.“Your Ted”

“Tonight's going to be a good night” Riley giggled glancing down at her phone before shoving it in her rain jacket. The long tan trench went past the short mini shirt, her long pale legs glowing in the dark of the rainy city streets. “Someone is getting laid tonight! I can feel it.”

The bar was comfortably crowded for a Friday night. Just enough people to get lost in a crowd but not enough to get trampled. The DJ was playing their song and soon they were dancing on the floor. Just another group of recent college grads living their best lives.

And that’s when she saw him. Well, more like collided into him. Her hand hitting a very toned chest wasn’t out of the normal for the packed dance floor, however, when a foreign hand wove itself around her wrist her attention was caught.

Turning she came face to face with him.

Umbrella Man.

In the colorful lights, he was even more unworldly looking. Like something out of some modern sci-fi movie. His pale face cleaned from any bruises or cuts, makeup now clean, dark lines around his eyes with one that seemed to drip down into a point. For a moment Yue wasn’t sure if it had been her imitation or maybe that scar had just been makeup the first night they had met.

Honestly, he could have been a cat in a hot topic shirt for all she knew that night.

“Well fancy meeting you here,” he said leaning forward his breath was cool with a slightly minty smell which was odd for a hot sweaty dance floor. Refreshing and alluring in a way that made her heart skip a beat.

“Yeah.” was all that came out her eyes wide unsure what to say her brain slightly buzzed from a night of fun. Never in her life would she, miss plane Jane, imagine having a man like this ever pay attention to her. Never had she ever imagined a man like this ever bother to approach her. Never had she ever thought a man like that would look at her, his green eyes traveling over her body like that. Admiring the cute outfit she had stolen from Riley as if taking in a work of art. She almost felt almost naked under his gaze yet totally in control at the same time.

“Let me buy you a drink?” his hand snaking its way around to the small of her back pulling her closer. Glancing to the side Yue noticed Riley and Sammie dancing, both girls didn’t look it, but they were slyly watching her. Keeping an eye out for their friend. Ready to strike at a moment's notice.

“Just let your friends know you’ll be right back”

Ok so maybe not that slyly.

Nodding toward her friends she then let the dark stranger lead her to the bar. As they walked through the dance floor it was as if the red sea parted, only it was a bunch of drunk 20-somethings and not water. It was a bit of an out of body experience. Feeling almost like a queen being led by her king through a court of his subjects. Yue vaguely wondered if she was just drunk as they quickly found two empty seats at the bar, the bartender nodding toward them coming quickly up.

Ok, she was drunk but not this drunk.

“How do you do that?” she asked looking up at him in awe, “it took me at least five minutes to get his attention and that was after Riley made me bounce up and down a few times.” the man smiled down clearly finding her reaction amusing. Her clearly comfortable with her own drunk girl antics, this woman in front of him seemed so, her own person. As if she wasn’t trying to be anyone but the drunk silly girl she was.

“I have that effect on people.” turning to the bartender he leaned against the wooden bar, “I’ll take a Whiskey neat and she’ll have…”

“Just a beer.”

Again, a delightful surprise. He raised an eyebrow as the bartender nodded going to grab the drinks. “I took you more for a vodka soda girl.”

“Beer is an easy drink” she shrugged, nodding a thank you to the bartender. “I always know what I’m getting and it says I’m not expecting anything from the buyer.”

“I don’t think a beer could properly thank you for the umbrella,” he said leaning forward, smiling at her a slender finger gently running over the outside of her thigh sending a shiver up her leg. Just enough of a touch to let her know his intentions but not enough she couldn’t move away from it. Her heart rate picked up at the thought. Taking a swig of her beer she smiled.

“The nights still young.”

“That it is. I would love to show you just how grateful I am” his voice was as smooth as the whiskey he was drinking.

His meaning wasn’t hard to tell but the nerves were getting the better of her. It had been a while. But making out with a hot stranger in a bar was on her hot girl summer bucket list. She had promised herself that this was going to be her year of adventure. And there was no way she was going to let a few butterflies get in the way of that.

And he was hot.

Like almost too hot.

“What did you have in mind?”

He tasted like whiskey, smokey and smooth. Filling her taste buds sending a fun buzz through her body as his thumbs stroked her cheeks. He wasn’t messing around, his kiss filled with passion and an intensity that sent her head spinning more than any alcohol could.

They kissed and kissed and kissed.

And then kissed some more.

At the bar.

On the dance floor.

On the uber home.

At her doorstep.

In the living room

Somewhere between the living room and the bedroom clothes were slowly being shed until they were both standing there naked.

Letting out a giggled Yue jumped onto her bed bouncing slightly before crawling in the head. He crawled after her on all fours matching her smile with one of his own. Her heart rate picked up watching him as he looked up through dark lashes that thin smile on his face as he slowly moved closer and closer until his lips met hers.

He was such a good kisser, it was always so tender and slow. Enjoying the moment in no hurry to go anywhere. She vaguely wondered how good he would feel kissing anywhere else as she let him crawl over her.

Pausing for a moment he looked down at her fluffy blue blanket his hands were grasping on either side of her body. “This blanket is very cozy,” he mumbled a playful smile on his face as he looked up at her. His smile seemed to be laughing at a secret she wasn’t even sure she understood.

“I strive for comfort.” she giggled meeting his smile with one of her own. Pushing herself down deeper into the bed spreading out her hands as if cementing this statement.

Cute, that’s what he thought as he looked down at her. She was so damn cute.

Very unlike what he normally went for.

But maybe a change was good.

He smiled, kissing her back his hips rubbing against hers. Burying his nose in her neck he sighed, “did I mention how good you smell” he mumbled letting his nose run over her neck enjoying her. Drinking her in sending shivers down her spine.

Slowly moving from her shoulder to her neck taking another deep breath before kissing her. “It’s the sweetest thing I have ever smelled ”

It was such a strange compliment she wasn’t sure why that was so hot. Maybe it had something to do with his overall dark mysterious vibe he had going for him. The way he seemed to be kissing her, licking her neck and it felt like she had her own vampire lover in her bedroom or something. Her fingers dug into his pale skin as he took her in enjoying the beautiful sweet skin at the base of her neck. Teeth grazing just hard enough to feel but not enough to pierce the skin.

Delicately he moved his way down from her neck to her collar bone before reaching her breasts burying his face in them sighing before kissing the valley between them fingers running over them pitching the nipples “it’s better than even the angels.”

He kissed her nipples “Or the devils.”

He kissed and licked down her stomach enjoying her scent. Tasting every inch of her body. Like his kisses before he was so slow and deliberate. Truly taking his time to enjoy himself. Taking his time until he reached her hips.

Her body shivered as she watched him. His green eyes looking up for a moment meeting her own that smile back. Their gaze meeting as his tongue slowly licked over her pussy like he was taking a lick of ice cream. He hummed softly lowering his gaze going in again. Just as slow, this time a bit deeper the tip of his tongue flicking over her core making her let out a shaky breath as her stomach burst into a million butterflies.

Yue had never had anyone eat her like that. Her ex had never done it saying it didn’t do anything for him and the random rebound she had dated after that had been like a blender with his tongue.

But not this guy.

Oh God, this guy.

He was truly sinful the way he ate her out. His mouth over her making her whole body feel hot and bubbly. His lips kissing and sucking as his tongue, oh that tongue. It seemed to find just the right spots to explore licking and flicking in a way that had her totally undone.

It was as if time had stood still, she wasn’t sure if it had been seconds or hours. Her brain left her body as if she had ascended to another plane.

Just when she was sure this was what true bliss felt like he slipped a finger inside of her while sucking on her clit.

The new and wonderful sensation caused her to gasps bucking her hips slightly and he smiled pulling away for a moment to lick his lips, “Baby girl when was the last time someone properly took care of you? You’re moaning like a virgin”

“I…” she felt her face flush biting her lip. All those insecurities coming back to her. Painfully aware she was with a man who was far her superior in the bedroom.

“Oh now don't’ do that,” he said, still playing lazy with her, his finger joined by two more toying lightly with her as he looked up between her legs, “I love it. It’s been so long since I’ve met someone who’s let themselves enjoy it this much.”

“Thanks.”

“Now let’s see how loud I can get you to scream.” he snickered, diving back in causing her to throw her head back in pure pleasure. She was so close she wasn’t even sure how to speak. Her whole body seemed to be humming with an electrical current that only seemed to light her up brighter and brighter until she was exploding within herself. It felt like fireworks as her body reached its peak. She let out a few giggles unable to really know how else to function. The feeling so wonderful there was nothing else she could do but laugh. He pushed her through her climax enjoying every moment of it, quite literally eating it up. That large grin on his face as he watched her squirm giggling with pure bliss on her fluffy blue blanket.

She was such a beautiful sight.

After a few moments, he crawled up over her kissing her neck again. Tenderly, his hands stroking her arms. Then slowly he pulled her onto his lap. His thick erection rubbing against her legs just in front of her core. His eyes studying hers waiting for her to move toward him.

She searched his gaze for a moment before she spoke, “I have condoms in my drawer.”

“I don’t… he paused as if realizing where he was. His eyes dark with lust “Show me what you have.”

“You don’t want me to return the favor?” she asked Glancing over at his huge cock, thick and dripping slightly with pre-cum. It gave her a slight thrill that he had gotten that hard just by eating her out.

He shook his head looking over her shoulder as she opened her bedside table drawer luckily Riley had gone for a run last week and had picked her up a multi-pack “just in case.” so she was stocked and ready. “Next time” he mumbled before taking one slipping it over his cock.

Then moving toward her he pulled her close to him. Kissing her neck as he lifted her up onto his lap slowly pushing her onto his cock. Using his shoulders as a base she pushed herself up and down a few times letting his cock fill her up with a soft moan that he matched.

“You feel as good as you taste, fucking fantastic.” his hot breath caressing her neck and ear as he moved her around his cock. Him on his knees leaning back on his left hand, the right gripping her ass. “Move those hips for me,” he mumbled his voice husky dripping with sex, “Like you did on the dance floor, fill yourself up.”

His moans, the fact that she was making him moan like was making her close to coming again.

And he felt so good inside her too.

His lips on her neck, her hands in his hair as they went deeper and deeper until she wasn’t sure where his body ended and hers began. It felt so good. It felt so freeing.

Then his mood changed and he let out a soft growl. Moving swiftly he bucked forward. She let out a slight squeal wrapping herself around him as she felt herself fall toward the bed. His body over hers again. He gasped looking down his breath ragged and eyes so dark they looked like… maybe it was a trick of the darkroom but they looked black.

All black.

He growled again as he descended upon her.

His thrusts were heavy and hard. Sending pleasure shooting through her body as she matched his rough pace. Their legs tangled together as he kissed her over and over her lips, her neck, and her breasts. Frantic and rough as if he is going to devour her. Between each kiss are moans and cruses in a language she doesn’t recognize.

Yue looked up at him, his dark eyes, hair, white skin glowing in the moonlight of her room and she realized something.

She knew nothing about this man.

And something about that. Something about the idea that she owed his man nothing but the pleasure they were sharing at this moment was the most thrilling wonderful thing she had ever experienced.

She gasped as she felt herself close again to her, it was as if her own body knew her deep thoughts. That she was allowed to enjoy this for herself and not for anyone one else.

She cried as she came, letting out a loud moan. He followed quickly after biting down on her neck, not drawing blood but close. The pain making her cry out in surprise but also pleasure.

He kissed her where he had marked her before traveling over her shoulder and then back to her neck pulling her close to him pushing in a few more times just enjoying the feeling of them together. Then just as softly he let her fall into her bed rolling off.

Both of them laying on their backs looking up at the ceiling gasping for air. Then after a few moments, Yue got up grabbing a towel from the closet in the hallway coming back to hand it to him. Leaving again she came back with a cup of water.

“You can stay if you want,” she muttered crawling back into the bed. He nodded watching her. Something about watching her curl up under that fluffy blanket almost disappearing into those pillows he wanted that.

That peace she seemed to have.

“Yes please.”

Nodding she lifted the blanket letting him crawl under before tucking him in. his hand snaked around her pulling her closer to him, taking in her sent again.

That beautiful sweet scent. All-consuming wonderful scent.

-0-0-0-0-0-

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Forever tag: @the-shadow-of-atlantis @coffee-randomness @0hmydeku @xx3fsxx @daisyboobear @jason-redhood @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep @cdwmtjb8

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