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stardancerluv · 3 years

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Is There Love When Dating the King of Gotham?

Part One of Two

Summary: Roman’s been away and you realize what you need from him.

Note/Warning: small consensual sex scene, marking.

“Welcome Home, Romy!” You were tickled with delight. Roman had been gone for almost two weeks but now he was home. You had missed him terribly.

To pick him up at the airport, you had worn a lovely dress and had your hair and nails done. You even wore a necklace he bought you, that made you nervous, to be fair that necklace was worth more than what your business pulled for two years.

When he gave it to you, you had promised him you’d wear it on special occasions for him. So today with how much you missed him, you decided to wear it.

The rolls dipped and bumped its way across Gotham. He slipped his sunglasses off and sat looking you over. You could practically feel his eyes, that were as turbulent as an ocean, moving over you. “Baby,” He rasped, a smile spread across his face. “You’re so beautiful. Now, come here.” He beckoned to you.

Easily, you slid over to him. You shivered as you felt his hands on you. The smooth leather, the warmth of his hands just under the surface.

When your lips met you could taste one of his favorite scotches. He must have enjoyed it on the flight home.

Minutes later, barely able to part you managed to make it to the elevator to get up to the penthouse. Your clothes had become a serious annoyance and the kisses made your heart race.

******

“I love you.” You breathed. You arched against him as you came hard. Sweat dripped between the two of you. Barely able to focus, you clung onto him as he rolled and moved so he was above you. The sight of his hair hanging in his face and the sounds that poured from his lips was enough to get you excited all over again.

His lips pulled at your throat, as he sucked and nibbled against it. Scarves would be essential for the next few days, but you didn’t care. Part of you always found his marks delicious, they made your heart skip when you’d eye them later in the mirror.

“Y/N,” was a moan as it poured from his mouth, his breath hot as you felt him cum hard, deep within you. He rested his forehead against your shoulder as he trembled. You ran a hand through his wet strands.

His eyes were hooded with pleasure when he met yours. You shared a tired smile. Finally, slowly he came to rest beside you with a sigh. He held out an arm and you cuddled to his side. His arm came back around and held you close. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Will you be running off later or will you be sitting with me at my table, my first night back after being away?”

You tilted your head so you could smile up at him. “You have me all night.”

“Good.”

You gently yawned. He had thoroughly tired you. You drifted off feeling his fingertips play absently with the necklace still on your throat.

*****

Stirring, you slowly let yourself wake up but then as you reached out and felt a cold bed, your dreamy state shattered. Your fingers felt a piece of paper and you snatched it.

Baby,

Headed down early.

Can’t wait to get my hands on you again.

See you at the table.

RBS

Annoyance crept over you and took ahold. “RBS.” You said in a snarky tone. You don’t know why then but suddenly it really irked you. Like you’d ever forget his name. Couldn’t he scrawl a heart, was it too much to write love Roman.

Just before he had left on his trip to solidify some business in Europe, it had hit you that he had never actually said I love you. You had. You knew in his own way he showed you that he did.

He had carved out a portion of his penthouse for you to have a studio. He made those men pay after kidnapping you. Now, you knew you were dealing with Roman Beauvais Sionis. He was incredibly feared in the underworld. He did not fuck around.

Until you, he was the only man in Gotham that came close to giving Bruce Wayne a run for his money when being seen as the richest or the handsomest bachelor in Gotham.

You also knew he had his share of heart ache, from past relationships and from his godawful family. A slap across the face was more of the norm than a slap on the back of encouragement. So you knew it had taken a lot for him to even be exclusive with you.

When you'd given him your unwavering loyalty and love, you had hoped for something. A little crumb. You knew he had missed you. This afternoon the intimacy had stolen your breath. But you still needed, wanted to hear the words. Even a little heart on the note would be a step in the right direction.

You swallowed back the tears the moment they filled your eyes. “You’re dating Roman. You should be happy someone like that even wanted to commit.” That night when you, Rebecca swished into the Black Mask, had swished in Rebecca had tried to catch his eye. But somehow, he liked your looks more.

With that as comfort, you pulled aside the blanket and got up. Shuffling past the end of the bed, you saw two very beautiful dresses. You stopped and gasped. Then you saw a little note.

Wear one for us tonight!

Saw these in a little boutique in Rome.

The scarves will be an amazing accent, work them like only you can.

RBS

This time reading the RBS, you rolled your eyes and your stomach churned. How had your throat ended up looking.

*****

You gasped, looking your reflection over. He certainly had been enthusiastic. You pressed your lips together. Delight filled you. A part of you enjoyed the sight of his marks besides the incredibly elegant necklace. But that was Roman’s effect on you. Something about it was sexy, but yes one of those scarves is going to be twirled around you.

******

Walking in, a smiled played on your lips. The place was buzzing. As you walked over to his table you stopped. You really should have slept longer or even taken longer with the scarf.

When your eyes landed on Roman, he had a wide smile across his face that made your heart squeeze. His arm was resting above the head of some girl who was looking up at him with sparkling eyes and a bright smile. He looked so relaxed, happy. Turning towards him she said something and you watched as he threw his head back and laughed.

You don’t know why, but all of a sudden you felt like some kind of kept puppy. The necklace suddenly felt heavy. As your thoughts began to swirl, you tugged at the scarf.

You went to the bar. On the side away from the patrons, you slid onto a stool.

The bartender looked bored. “Here you go, princess.” He slid your usual over to you.

You looked at him and swallowed the drink and attempted to swallow down your anger. “I’ll take another.”

He rose an eyebrow.

“I don’t want to ask again.”

He nodded and as he slid you the second one, you were nibbling on one of the cherries.

“One more.”

“Y/N.” You slightly jumped in your seat. As Victor then came around, you eyed him up and down from the corner of your eye.

“Roman is expecting you.”

“He seemed indisposed when I just saw him.” You rolled your eyes.

“Come to the table.”

It finally dawned on you, it was a bitch. That’s what they called female dogs. You felt like a kept bitch.

He had given you a collar, that let you know exactly what you were in the relationship. He wouldn’t want you straying, so he set up your studio to keep you within reach. And finally a good fucking here and there, to keep you loyal. It all came together.

“Y/N.”

“I heard you, Zsasz.” Carefully, you slid from the stool. Walking to the table, you now saw a sour expression splashed on his face. Yeah, he was so thrilled to have you sit with him after her and however many others. You couldn’t do this.

You undid the scarf. “Victor said you were ready for me?”

He looked up, his brow wrinkled as he sat there. You saw as he began to get up.

“Don’t unless you’re making rounds.”

His brows furrowed more.

“Here.” You dropped the scarf.

His eyes grew as he saw the marks. He held up the scarf. “Baby?”

“I... I...” You were at a loss of what to exactly say. “Never mind, Mr. Roman Beauvais Sionis.” So you turned and left.

You realized he had not followed you. You had not looked back, but you knew he wasn’t there.

Once upstairs, you went to his office. You unclasped the collar. As you did, tears finally filled and a few fell from your eyes.

Going to the bedroom, you slipped the dress off. Finding the dress you had worn earlier wrinkled and flat, you slipped it back on.

You managed to go down the hall to your studio. Opening the door, you flipped the light on. You pressed your lips together.

******

Roman sighed, as he disengaged his arm from Annie, he thinks that was her name. He managed to get his arm on top of the cushion.

“Listen, I will have you start off on Tuesdays and Wednesdays.”

She smiled up at him with the eyes that caught the light. They would look good on stage he hoped. “But Mr. Sionis...”

“Roman, dear.” Oh he hated to be referred to as Mr. Sionis. He resisted the urge to shiver, it reminded him too much of his father.

She smiled a little brighter. “Roman, but I want a Friday or a Saturday.” A small pout formed on her lips. “Do I have to sleep with you to get a Friday or a Saturday?”

He threw his head back and laughed. Then he grew serious. “Darling, you better learn this fast. I am committed to my girl. And if you are going to work here, you will respect her like you would respect me. If you don’t, I fire you.”

Her cutesy face dropped. “I understand.”

He gestured to Zsasz, he came right over. “Find Y/N.” Zsasz nodded.

He turned his attention to the girl. “Ok, our little chat is over. Need money for costumes, write up a budget and we can talk again.”

Roman finally relaxed once the girl shifted and finally slid out of the booth. He was eager to have you by his side. With his time away, he realized just how much he missed you.

He grimaced as he looked at all that was his. It pleased him. But damn, seeing you today when you were there waiting at the gate. The way you ran over and felt against him when you wrapped your arms around him. How had he gotten that lucky, he was a cold hearted bastard. He had no idea but he was grateful.

The scent of your perfume tickled his nose just before he heard your voice. “Victor said you were ready for me?” He watched as you undid the masterpiece you had managed to make with your scarf.

Looking up, confusion filled him. As he looked closer, just above that beautiful necklace he bought you, he could see the marks he left on your throat. He was amazed. He had certainly been swept away by his passions. Though the way the diamonds twinkled on your slim throat and his marks, his stomach churned. Easily he wanted you all over again. He started to get up to welcome you to his table; he did enjoy being a gentlemen towards you.

He watched as you made a dismissive gesture with one of your hands. “Don’t unless you’re making rounds.”

His grew more confused.

“Here.” You then dropped the scarf in front of him.

He grabbed it. “Baby?”

“I... I..." He was at a loss. Were you upset? Who had bothered you? He’d wring their neck. Were you upset because he told you to wear the scarf? He knew how you liked to look classy and there was a chance with his love marks others would say other things. You were at a loss of what to say exactly. “Never mind, Mr. Roman Beauvais Sionis.” Your voice had become clipped as he then watched you turn and walk away.

@spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewamode @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @nebulastarr @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97-blog1 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @professionalclown @chogisss @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @blondekel77 @saphic-stories @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj @thebeckyjolene @blackmasque @mrskenobi19

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piers-supremacy · 4 years

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Hi! Would you be willing to do any hcs about Piers? I’d love to hear any you have that you haven’t mentioned yet (or that you have)! AKA can we get some miscellaneous Piers hcs? Please and thank you! 🥰

Oh no what have you done???? what have you started???????

Okay okay so, I’ll start with some context clues I’ve picked up that can technically be considered headcanons.

-Milo and Piers were probably childhood friends by the fact even after piers retires they are doing an exhibition match together.

-Piers calls himself “a real friend” when referring to Sonia.

-Piers doesn’t really seem to know Leon all that well by the fact he calls him by “the champion.” Theres another quote that I’m not quite sure where I remember it from where Piers says “I don’t know him that well, but the champions probably lost right now.”

-Piers seemingly only met Raihan during the first match in the league finals. Raihan doesn’t seem to have fought him before by the surprise he expresses by telling Piers he’s good at battling.

-Piers gets embarrassed when Nessa calls him “odd.” I choose to believe that’s because he respects her and doesn’t know how to react to a prep, jock, super model telling him he’s odd.

-I believe Opal was more of an influence on Piers when he was younger. They seem to know each other enough to team up in the star tournament. Plus, Piers has a strong value for manners and courtesies that Opal seems to share. (She probably taught him that little bow he does sometimes)

-Piers never mentions having a rival when he first started the league. Marnie ends up having multiple.

Alright enough about Piers and other people here’s some more individual stuff.

-Piers is a really understanding and none judgmental dude. Unless you’re rude, but he’ll usually say something. It’s an impulse.

-Piers will have random Nerf battles with his sister. He did it while Hop was around once and they went into all out war mode as Hop watched like— “W-what??” Hope eventually started doing it with them. Which spread to Gloria, Victor, and Allister.

-anybody like Raihan and Leon try to get into it and Piers just glares with murder in his mind. Nerf battles are for family only. Yes, he sees the kids as a part of his family.

-speaking of which, Piers is basically the adoption papers meme. He likes you enough? You’re fam. Milo, Sonia, a few members of team yell. He latches onto people very quickly.

-sometimes he ends up regretting it but he honestly can’t help it. Piers has intense separation anxiety and abandonment issues.

-which has gotten him into some manipulative relationships in the past.

-Piers has had some panic attacks when Marnie let’s go of his hand in a crowd or she comes home a few minutes late.

-Which strings into his issue with crying easily. The concept of anything bad happening to people he cares about or Pokémon; He’s running off to find some place safe to cry.

-Piers very rarely gets upset in actually bad situations. In an emergency he’s stoic and the calmest person there. Very no nonsense, get shit done so everyone’s safe.

-Then he’ll turn around and cry ‘cause he stepped on one of his Ziggys tails.

-overall a lot of people don’t really get to see the softer, happier side of him. Especially in the league. To him it’s all business, like a dead end job he doesn’t really want to be part of.

-that tends to be why he looks so tired and out of it. He’s already on thin ice by just existing in the league. If it were up to Rose, he would’ve never made it to the finals when he was a kid.

-Rose just makes his life a living hell. Piers can’t keep his piercings in or wear more comfortable clothes ‘cause he can’t not be in uniform.

-Pretty much the only things that are his own clothes is the crop jacket, the boots, and the pokeball chain.

-With his own freedom to dress how he wants Piers would be changing his look everyday. (Except the ponytail)

-new jacket, different boots, pants besides those (very unflattering) shorts.

-you can imagine how crazy he went with the accessories when he was retired.

I got off track, back to Piers’ personality outside the league.

-Piers is honestly just a big child. Spencer from icarly vibes.

-Marnie has walked in to him standing on the counter and just screaming back and forth with his obstagoon. They were asserting dominance.

-*Piers standing in the doorway with a grovery cart filled with stolen Rose posters, macro cosmos advertisements, and even a part of a billboard.* Marnie: “um... whatcha got there?” Piers: “A smoothie.”

-Piers has a whole lot of energy. You catch Piers In his element and Marnie looks like the mature one despite her age.

-Marnie does like being feral with him, but she’s much calmer and gets tired more often.

-Piers doesn’t drink alcohol. If he’s at a party he’ll drink an extremely diluted fruity beverage and then chug water. He doesn’t trust himself enough to have more than one soft drink. He already had a problem with cigarettes in the past.

Okay so that’s everything I can think of right now. There is so much more but jeez I don’t want to go forever. Thanks for the ask!!

#piers pokemon #piers swsh #pokemon piers #piers sword and shield #piers #marnie pokemon #team yell #marnie swsh

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silence-burns · 4 years

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Please Hate Me //part 48

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut

Being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman always gave Peter a sense of pride and purpose, even if he could only share it openly with a few people. It was the kind of accomplishment that made all the hardships seem worth it in the end. It also made him happy in a way he couldn't really explain, but which involved a certain connection between him and the people he protected and got familiar with over the course of his superhero patrols.

But being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman was difficult in a neighborhood where no one was actually friendly in return.

Peter’s frown grew the further into the building he went. He was pretty sure it was the same one Loki and you had been renting an apartment in, and since he was a rather frequent guest, the neighbours should recognize him by now enough to at least return his greetings.

That was what logic dictated, but Peter was pretty certain the people he met in the hallway only gave him a stern, disapproving look before walking past him quickly.

Peter was still frowning when he moved up the stairs, juggling the keys in his hand. Then he stopped. The unearthly screams of the damned were muffled, but most definitely coming from apartment number 13.

Opening the door quietly, he slid into the familiar interior, now echoing with pain and suffering so loud, Peter had to cover his ears just enough to move to the root of all evil - the bathroom.

There were many inexplicable things Peter had witnessed happening in the apartment 13, and to some extent he got used to the thrill of not knowing what he'd face next time he paid a visit. Still, he hadn't expected to see various parts of a half-drowned owl sticking out of the sink filled thick with foam and bubbles. The owl must've struggled a lot, judging by the amount of water splashed on every possible surface, and the iron grip you and Loki still kept on the bird. Even if Loki was not wearing his usual features, it was still obvious who your partner in crime was.

The two of you froze. Soap and foam dripped to the floor. Loki's new form shimmered with a glamour only magic could achieve.

"Um, what are you guys doing?" Peter asked.

"Trying a new disguise?" The curtain of Loki's new long hair was luscious and utterly drenched.

"No, I meant-"

"Listen, boy, as surprising as it might be for you, I'm still me, just with a less… criminally wanted image."

"Yeah, only if 'ME' stands for mischief embodied," you laughed.

"It literally doesn't. It's smooth, but it doesn't."

"Thank you, love. Now, could you please stop drowning poor Barbara?"

Loki sighed, but relaxed his grip on the bird just enough to allow it to peak its head out from under the surface and take a deep, long breath.

Peter put his backpack down and meandered closer, dodging the growing puddles. "Why is there an owl in the sink?"

"Because I'm not allowing any fleas into my house," you firmly stated, pushing the wings back under the water. "And I don't care how many hours we'll spend here, I'm getting all the mud and dirt out."

Barbara clung to her dirt with all her might, but was overpowered and utterly misunderstood. Loki's new form was slimmer, but held the bird with his usual strength and a big dose of satisfaction. The smirk on his face was unchanged, even if the features were new.

"What do you need a disguise for anyway?" Peter asked, looking for a towel. "Can I go with you?"

"I'm afraid that as wildly chaotic and lawless as our destination is, you'd still be age-checked," Loki cooled his enthusiasm.

Barbara rushed to the towel and clung to it, loudly exclaiming what, precisely, she thought about her caretakers. Peter tried to dry her up as best as he could through her wriggling and screams.

"Are you sure all this soap is good for her? Did you use any animal-friendly shampoo?"

Loki shrugged. "I doubt she can get any more dead."

The boy looked at the owl. The owl looked at the boy. The ruffled and drenched feathers were sticking out in all directions, uncovering a deep and no doubt fatal hole in her side.

"You got a dead owl…?"

"It was not my idea," Loki groaned, casting the bird a disgusted stare in the mirror where he tried to change the shape of his eyebrows.

"You're just angry because she likes me more," you laughed while mopping the floor.

Peter did his best to become invisible and not stare too openly at the ribs poking out of the feathers. Barbara puffed them every time he moved the towel around. The boy couldn't speak owlish, but the small, crittering noises she made were definitely far from happy.

"Where will you be going?" Peter asked. The owl sat on his knees and refused to move even after he finished drying her on the couch.

"To the largest casino on the Moon."

"Wait- There are casinos up there?"

"Not for kids your age," Loki said.

Peter slumped on the couch. "That's not fair."

"We'll be back before you notice." You threw the wet rag to the sink. "Of course, as long as a certain someone FINALLY decides what to wear."

Loki ignored your pointed look, too busy with changing his hair color. No matter how many little details he changed, he still struggled with finding a form he was sure would allow him to pass through the guards unnoticed and unrecognized. It was a shame he couldn't use his own - it felt like a waste to hide a face like his.

The owl settled on Peter's shoulder, immobilizing him with the claws buried in his skin. But even from the couch, the boy could see the remnants of a hurricane that had thrown a rather alarming amount of clothes around the apartment.

"I thought these were yours," he admitted. The owl kept on looking through his hair with the utmost scrutiny and very little gentleness.

"I've settled long ago on what I'm going to wear. As for the diva himself, though…" you gestured around.

"I need it to be perfect," Loki said. "I have an important role to play, I can't just waltz in there and be recognized."

"You could go blond," Peter suggested.

"Ew, I don't want to look anything like my brother- Wait, that's actually a great idea."

Before any of you managed to protest, a full-grown Thor stood in Loki's place, watching himself from all angles in the mirror. The clothes no longer fit, so he dropped them and dove into the closet again.

"...what have I done?"

You patted Peter's free shoulder. Barbara nested in the crook of his neck. "Nothing they can prove. Hopefully."

"I am not my father's servant," not-Thor downed another beer. "And if I want to relax for just one evening, I shall!"

The tankard broke into tiny pieces as he smashed it on the ground. The loud applause and waves of laughter followed the very Thor-like outburst, making Loki relieved he was playing his role well. Even in a place like this, crowded with drunkards and gamblers from all over the universe, it was common knowledge what the god of thunder enjoyed.

Loki forced his glamoured face to remain cheerful as another tankard of beer had been brought to him, disgustingly sour and rough. He knew his brother well, and was sure he'd love it, but Loki himself would rather bite off his tongue than willingly digest any more if only he had an actual choice. He didn't, and therefore swallowed another gulp to the cheering from the crowds gathered at his table. The cards had been laid out, waiting for the victors to celebrate their success, and the rest to decide how much more money they were willing to lose to the god of thunder.

Seated in a great hall of marble and gold, Loki wished he could play the way he actually wanted to, which was the very same way that got him banned from the Moon last time he had visited. But for the sake of the mission, he stayed just above the line between bankrupting and winning money, which added to the body he was wearing, was just big enough temptation to keep his table busy.

Everyone entering the biggest casino on the Moon was inclined to try their luck, or at least take a quick look. It was a perfect, if rather boring, way of scanning everyone who entered the rich complex of buildings. The few fountains set further in the back murmured as they shot curtains of water. The air was thick and warm, making crowds of people inevitably gravitate towards them in search of any cold. With the tall, lush plants artistically winding over and between the pillars, it created little areas dotting the impossibly high hall, where the pleasant breeze gathered the people looking for just a moment of relief. You occupied a spot beneath the fountains, where most people would wind up going to at some point, and used it as a second checkpoint, just in case anyone missed Loki's, or rather his brother's table.

"Come on, does anyone else want to lose their fingers?" Loki heard you call out to the crowds.

Between their never ending sessions of losing and winning the money back just to lose them again, there were many individuals in need of a drink and a quick break from the gambling. How easy it was to grab their attention with a loud voice and a dead owl.

Loki stretched his neck and looked over to where you had sat down the bird with all kinds of currency piled between its claws and a single coin shining through the open ribcage.

"All you need is to get the coin out, what's the matter, people? Is there no one brave enough to win all this money?"

Greed has always been a major deciding factor for the living beings regardless of race and the world of origin. The queue only rose in length as everyone wanted to try their luck.

The table under Barbara grew more and more slick with blood from cut and bitten fingers. Pure malice shone in her dead eyes.

"What an awful creature," Loki muttered to himself.

He could sense the stolen pin somewhere in the vicinity, but the casino was a loud and chaotic place, with multiple areas each centered around a different type of entertainment. More than an hour had already passed, but whoever was currently holding onto the pin, had not yet ventured anywhere near.

The two of you were slowly but inevitably running out of time. Odin might've been old and naive, but his spies' eyes reached far and wide. Loki had little doubt he would be interested in his favourite son's apparent evening fun, especially if he had that particular son with him, in the palace. Thor was a good cover, but not for much longer.

And then, by chance or a generous turn of fate, the shadows stirred and whispered.

Loki cast the dice, not paying attention whether he'd won or lost. His money wasn't real anyway.

There - by the high palms stood the Hoarders, clad in the worn out rags and way too much jewelry. With their grey skin and long limbs, it was no wonder how easily they blended in with the shadows, using their skills to warp their surroundings and get in places others would consider highly secure. But their success was not measured in how many places they were capable of breaking in themselves, but rather how many individuals of all races they could easily befriend and bend to their will. Although, to be quite honest, Loki doubted the necromancer had needed much convincing.

There were only three of them, each almost an identical copy of the others, but the Hoarders were encircled by both their partners for the evening and whatever scum tried to befriend them. That made it so much harder to approach them, but Loki was already thinking of a good excuse when he rose from his seat. People parted, giving him space - much more that would be granted to Loki's original form.

The shadows whispered again. One of the ladies separated from the group, with an annoyed expression on her face.

Loki stretched, making sure to put his hands high. Once he caught your attention, he followed the lady at a leisurely pace.

"What do we do?" You asked once both of you entered the corridor and disappeared behind the corner.

"She's got the pin."

One more turn took you in front of the ladies restroom.

"Time for Plan C.” Loki began undressing quickly.

Holding a spare dress in your bottomless pocket was not the wisest choice, but it apparently paid off, even if fishing it out took you a moment. Your hands shook. Someone might have walked in on you at any time. While Loki would be doing whatever it took to get the pin back, you would be the one making sure no one interrupted him…

Like distracting the waiter that was now staring at both of you. Focused on the contents of your pocket, you hadn’t even noticed him approaching. Loki clad in only Thor's skin, blinked.

The waiter turned on his heel and disappeared.

"I can already feel the gossip stirring," Loki shifted into a more feminine body, quickly putting on the dress. "They are going to eat my brother alive."

"Do you feel bad about it?"

"Oh, my heart is breaking into a million pieces," Loki assured you with a smile far too wide for that to be true.

He kissed you quickly before disappearing into the restroom.

Life felt amazing. Loki couldn't help but imagine the amount of trouble his brother would get once the word spread about his whereabouts.

His imagination was running wild, but the one thing Loki couldn't imagine was how, merely thirty minutes later, he'd find himself in the dungeons deep beneath the surface of the Moon, half-drowned, and viciously bitten.

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki mcu #loki imagine #loki #mar #mcu #loki series #loki laufeyson imagine #loki fanfic

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prettyboybarzal · 4 years

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Fluff #3 seems like a Mat prompt ☺️ (aka victor-e-green)

this took way too long. im sorry. i love u. (also this is kinda short. do not hate me for it!!! xoxo)

“Stop pouting,” Mat grunted. His back was turned to you, but he knew. He knew that your lower lip was jutting out, eyebrows lowered in your signature pout. And, when he turned around with another pile of clothing to shove in his luggage, he was proved right. “Stop.”

“I can’t,” you whined, falling back onto the mattress to pout at the ceiling instead. “My lips are going to be in a permanent pout until you come back.”

Mat dropped himself onto the mattress to hover over you. He mirrored the pout on your own lips, then placed a kiss on them before pulling away too quickly.

Every June, you sat at the end of his bed and watched him pack his bags for the off season. And, every June, Mat did his best to ignore the pout on your lips. It sucked, he agreed with you, but you’d be visiting him in two weeks anyway. That alone was enough for him to pack without pouting like you.

The hum of the television filled the silence that enveloped the room as Mat cleared his dresser drawers, piling his sweatshirts and t-shirts beside his pants in his suitcase. Your eyes fell to the Adidas sweatshirt on top, one you’d stolen hundreds of times before, but then Mat was zipping the bag up.

Mat’s flight was that night and he had about an hour left to pack before you needed to shove him into the car for your trip to the airport. He slipped out of his bedroom to the bathroom to grab his toiletries, leaving you alone with his luggage. Watching the door, you reached over and unzipped the bag. You pulled out the Adidas sweatshirt and scurried over to your bag, shoving it in amongst all the other shit you had in there.

When Mat returned, he returned with his toothbrush and toothpaste in hand.

“It’s okay if I leave yours in there?” he asked.

“Of course!”

You drove Mat to the airport an hour later, giggling over the sound of his playlist until it was time to say goodbye. You jumped out of the car to squeeze him, melting into the feeling of his touch and taking it in for the last time before he left.

Mat grabbed his things after placing a kiss on your lips and disappeared into the terminal with a wave.

When you got home that night, you slipped the sweatshirt on so that you could sleep in it. It still smelled like him and, when his cologne hit your nose, you felt it easier to sleep.

It took a week for Mat to figure out that his favorite sweatshirt had gone missing. He called you on a Wednesday night, after you’d just gotten home from work, and asked you about it.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Did you happen to find my Adidas sweatshirt anywhere? It’s black with the logo on the chest.”

You were thankful that he hadn’t FaceTimed you… Otherwise, he would’ve seen you wearing it. After a moment of silence, where you’d tried to figure out an answer, Mat sighed.

“You’re wearing it, aren’t you?” There was another pause in the conversation just before you burst out laughing. He whined, “YN! You know that’s my favorite sweatshirt!”

“Well, it’s my favorite too!”

Mat sighed, defeated no doubt, and said, “Can you give it back to me when you come visit?”

“Only if you give me another,” you bargained. He laughed. “Seriously. The sweatshirt smells like you. That’s why I stole it.”

Mat smiled to himself, happy that he’d found someone like you, someone who cared so much.

“Of course you can have another one,” he murmured. “And I’ll spray it with my cologne before you get it, okay?”

“Okay,” you said with a giggle. “I love you.”

“I love you so much more,” he murmured. “Now hurry up and get here. I want my sweatshirt back.”

#mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal #hockey imagine #new york islanders imagine

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cryptid-killjoy · 3 years

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Frankenstein & Zero HC: It’s getting tense over at the Sherwood Frankenstein Place. Vic’s experimentations were always pretty mad. They were never anything but controversial even way back long before his days with the Kevorkian Clan. His father always looked upon him like a disappointment and a lunatic. Daddy issues are something Vic and Zero both have. He’d been expelled from university, lost funding, gained funding, over and over by different investors of his genius, but with Delta there was a mutual personal interest. That helped seal his loyalty to his current investor.

The science was there. He just knew it. He was obsessed with it. But, with Zero it was more. It became another personal obsession. True obsession. Mad obsession. It was life. It was death. It was life after death. But, it was more. Zero had it all. He was a like a ghost. He could pass between worlds. Die. Come back. He could be a zombie. There was canine element playing into all that was changing everything known. There was no precedent for it. He was alive. But, he wouldn’t god damn age and not just his body. His body was one thing, but his mind? Zero’s mind wouldn’t mature. His soul was stagnant. It was driving Victor mad. He couldn’t unlock it.

The aging experimentations weren’t about eternal youth for this Dr. Frankenstein. He’d already cheated death. He needed to fix what he broke. He needed to fix what was stolen from Zero. He’d experiment with dogs. Werewolves. Corpses of all kinds. He’d experiment on himself to the dangerous degree finding ways to recreate what Zero had become. All this mad self experimentation started to even scare Zero and he was hard to scare.

When Zero tells people he’s avoiding home it’s probably because he knows Vic is in a zombie-like state and has been told to stay away for his own safety. They fight. The physical changes canine, fur, ghostly, zombie, deathly, aging forward or back, they don’t always go away so easily. Things go wrong. Zero has to be the one to deal with the emergency moments of caging him up until it wears off or injecting anti-serums. These are also the reasons Zero doesn’t always invite people to come over without notice first. He makes up slanted variations of excuses.

Victor’s body is becoming more unstable than Zero’s. Zero often begs him to stop, just stop. He’s not worth all this. But, this is Victor Frankenstein and his mind is ruled by obsession and he’s not going to stop.

To add to his spiraling out, the night of the BBQ when he let Zero have his blast from the past which was suppose to be one night only, he let it go “too far”. He let himself get caught up. Enough memories, enough stuffed down old feelings all bottled up, enough alcohol, and the past became the present for both of them. It’s driven the madness into overdrive. It’s not how their relationship works anymore and now he’s crossed that line of what he tries to be for Zero, the father figure Zero never had. This is a very delicate line to cross with Zero’s history when he’s a grown man whether they’ve had a teenage love affair once upon a time or not and whether he looked like a teenage boy again at the time or not.

Tense. Tense. Everything is very tense as it is and very delicate.

Now comes Pierre. Maddy. Sister love. Throw in the Pierre situation on top of what’s happening in Zero’s life that he never speaks openly to his Everything Guy about and it’s a mess in Zero’s head.

That said, Zero’s past is a factor in his reactions to Pierre, but there’s a Victor element that’s always messed with his head that’s coming into play so much more intensely now.

Put Victor on the front lines of putting Pierre back together after seeing Bastien pound into smithereens, losing sleep now for him, the wedge between Vic and Zero is growing wider by the day.

The project of Pierre’s body reconstruction isn’t going particularly well either. Vic hearing Delta’s voice telling him he could get it done or fucking fail was not the easiest thing for Vic to have repeating in his head either when they’d sit down for dinner attempting normalcy. Blood on his clothes was never abnormal. Stains. But, now Zero knew who’s they were every single day. Pierre. Pierre. Fucking Pierre. He couldn’t take it.

He couldn’t even go to Seven. Seven is either in mortuary school or in his room doing crazy looking rituals with chalk circles and candles just as obsessed as Victor with Pierre right now. Victor doesn’t want to fail Delta and Seven refuses to fail Pierre right now. Either way Zero can’t get Pierre out of his damn head for two seconds to fucking breathe and think.

He is constantly ghosting out from stress unstable in his tangibility. Sometimes he’d go back to Dog Mountain in his head like finding his happy place and he could just be okay for just a little while. He’d even smile as images of Pierre and Seven were in those memories. Dog Mountain wasn’t a dream anymore. It was a real place he’d actually been to now with his boys. Then it’d all come around again. He’d want to go see Dallas. Sometimes he would, not much, but sometimes. It’d all come around again. Everything was wrapped up in Pierre. He wasn’t coming to grips with anything yet. He just wasn’t. There was too much happening all around him in play for a mind like his to get a handle on it. Everyone he was used to turning to was too busy for him.

Thus there was dance. It wasn’t like Zero and Delta weren’t already aligned. They were. But, Delta really didn’t do so many visits so close together as there had been recently. Actually, ever since they’d gotten the Hunch, Delta was becoming more social in that regard. Things were advancing even if the people of this city didn’t know it. Delta was of the belief the most broken soldiers were the strongest and most loyal. It gives them a reason to be loyal. If you don’t make it personal loyalty doesn’t exist. She was playing her cards. But, she also cared. Frank would know that. But, he’d also know if the whole world blew up around them she wouldn’t bat an eye at the loss of the whole herd at once and would be happiest if it was just them again in some infernal dark abyss.

But, as for Zero, he was a god damn mess and Victor Frankenstein was losing his fight in the sleepless nights of putting Pierre back together again. That obsessed fucker wasn’t giving up. He’d keep going. He’d keep going until he had something to present to Delta. But, it was very certain at this point there was no miracle that Doc Vic was going to pull off to bring Pierre back looking like a smooth and flawless Bollywood pretty boy ever again.

#victor head canon #zero head canon #head canon #seven and hell stuff to work on next #seven head canon

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whirlybirdwhat · 4 years

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in the kingdom of desert flowers

a birthday fic for @onepiecehcs based off of their nami/vivi knight au!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!! <33333!

Read On Ao3 For better formatting!

Nami meets her queen on a hot summer day in a kingdom not her own. The queen is in disguise of course, and Nami is dressed not as the knight she is but a commoner, but she still thinks Vivi is the most beautiful woman she’s ever met.

Because, who else could this woman be but Nefertari Vivi, Queen of the flowered desert of Alabasta?

Vivi smiles at her, hidden under a brown cloak that just barely shades her hair into something black instead of blue, and thanks her for paying for her drink. Nami smiles, says it’s no trouble at all even as her fellow knights in disguise gape at her (for she’s spending extra money) and introduces herself.

Nami, she says, truthful.

Wednesday, Vivi says, untruthful, but it’s fine.

Nami thinks she’s in love with the way she tilts her head anyway.

A conversation at the bar and Vivi is traveling with them. She’s Wednesday to them, Miss Wednesday to Sanji, and a love held deep in the heart for Nami. Vivi is still hiding, of course, and doesn’t tell them why she’s traveling with them beyond to get to the next town safely, but Nami knows the truth.

(There’s sand in her bag, spilling out and gleaming gold – living sand, sand from the Crocodile Man.)

She’s on the run, but not away from something – towards something, some chance at hope. Vivi loves her kingdom, or so Nami’s heard from the rumor mill spilling from Alabasta’s borders, so Nami knows she’s looking for something – some chance at victory.

Nami wants to be that chance – that guarantee. She wants her family, her little of band of knights to be it – to save a kingdom again, but not just any kingdom this time.

Vivi’s kingdom.

Selfishly, she admits, she really just wants to see Vivi smile so gracefully at her again.

(She’s not a pirate in this life, selfishness isn’t a code she gleefully lives by any more. But her King, Luffy, Emperor of the Rising Sun, has always had a thing about freedom, so Nami’s free to love as fully and as little as she wants.

And oh, does she love Vivi fully.)

There is a bounty hunter, three towns over, one that gets past Zoro’s swords and Usopp’s eyes and Franky’s shiny battle hull. He attacks Vivi with something explosive and Luffy’s knocked out to the left and Nami’s too late to lunge forward but—

But.

Vivi’s cowl whips off her head, showing a gleaming blue to the world, as she dashes forward underneath the hunter’s arm, her arm lashing out with precision. From her fingers peacock wings stretch out in deadly blades, cutting around the man’s stomach.

He’s down by the time Vivi spins him around, uncurling her whip from his waist.

Oh, Nami thinks.

The Queen of Alabasta has never surrendered, or so the rumors say.

Vivi smiles at her, and places a hand on the circlet over her head, a remnant of a rule she supposedly doesn’t have. “Oops.”

The squares empty, cleared out when the first bomb flung forward, so no one’s here to see Vivi in all her glory, save for the Straw Hat band of wandering knights (and one King.)

She’s beautiful like this, bold and brave and daring, so Nami just laughs so happily at her sudden bashfulness.

“That’s okay, my Queen,” She says, tempted to wink but it’s too soon. “We all knew anyway.”

The smile Vivi gives her back, trusting and bright, is more than Nami will ever need to be happy.

Vivi, identity out in the open, smiles more freely now, more happily. She laughs at the antics of Nami’s crewmates, and leans into Nami’s armored shoulder in the night. Vivi’s dressed in the drabbest clothing she can find, save for the circlet around her head, but she wears everything like it’s the finest silk.

She’s beautiful, when she’s free and not worried about her sand-swallowed country when she’s dancing around a campfire.

Nami wishes it could be like this forever.

But the Straw Hats do not hesitate or falter in their steps. They agreed to save Alabasta, and so to Alabasta they travel.

They have been to the West before. Nami hopes they like it.

She explains to Vivi who the Straw Hats are, past rumors and legends of tyrant defeating myths. She explains how Luffy is the King of the Kingdom of the East Sea, how he’s going to be the King of the Entire Sea (The Pirate King) one day, simply so he can travel anywhere he wants, so he can be free in the freest sense. She explains how she and the others are his loyal knights, his advisors, his treasure, and how she would give her life to him if he asked it.

(She does not mention how Vivi has that same power over her.)

She tells Vivi of how they found the stairway to the sky, how they have friends in the Darkest Depths of the ocean; how Nami knows three other princesses but none as beautiful as Vivi and how their home when they are not on the road, on an adventure, is a floating palace of the sea.

(The Thousand Sunny, home to souls as bright as the sun, the zenith of the East Sea.)

Vivi laughs when tells her how they convinced Franky to don his shining metal armor, how Zoro, the first knight of Luffy’s kingdom, is lost anywhere, how they once met a man who could make centaurs out of ordinary folk. Vivi opens her mouth in awe when Nami tells her how they took Robin back from the very kingdom they are seeking to take, declared war with only a crew of six; how they have taken back kingdoms and defeated warlords and tyrants and emperors, all for a friend.

Vivi cries when Nami tells her they will do the same for her.

(She cries when Nami tells her they will take her with them if she wants.)

(Vivi’s selfless but Nami’s selfish, and maybe that’s why she doesn’t beg her to stay anyway.)

A week before Alabasta, Nami takes Vivi to the secret cove where she has been once before. It’s a five-minute walk from where their party rests on the beach, but enough to give them some semblance of privacy.

Nami kisses her, there, head tilted gently to the side. It is not chaste but nor it is desperate – if Nami was the romantic sort (which she is, despite her protests) she would called it devoted.

Funny, how much she loves this girl.

Her eyes are closed when they kiss but when she opens them, Vivi is looking at her with love.

They kiss again and Nami doesn’t tell her how much she loves her, but she thinks Vivi knows it anyway.

(They hold hands on the way back to the group in the morning, and Nami thinks by the smile on her crew’s faces they know it too.)

The edge of Alabasta is sparse desert mixed with small plants. An hour in, it will be desert entirely, so they stop for the day, to start traveling at night, when it is a cool paradise amidst the desert heat. Vivi knows the land like she knows her people, and will guide them through safely.

They send letters out at the outpost, to Luffy’s brother who is running the kingdom in his absence and to the other which they may meet in Alabasta. They send letters to Cocoyashi, with pictures of a beautiful blue haired princess, and to the traveling places of the Baratie and Water 7.

The Straw Hats travel without thought of the past but they are figureheads of the kingdom. They do not forget those left behind.

(Nami shows Vivi the letters she writes Nojiko, hoping she’ll know that the letters she will send her love will be twice as long.)

Alabasta is hot and beautiful and dangerous all at once. The Kingdom of the Desert Flowers, Kingdom of the Swallowing Dunes, Kingdom of Blooming Sands – no epithet could describe Alabasta in its entirety, how one could take a step forward and be drowned in sand without ever knowing, or be bit by a red snake hiding in the desert blossoms.

The heat burns her armor during the day and the coolness sinks through it at night. They stop in a town and Vivi shows her the armors of her own country, light weight and breathable and not meant for avoiding sturdy attacks or blocking blades like Nami’s armor is.

She likes it, likes the blue clothes that come with it, and vows to become faster, faster than she has ever been before, to use this armor to its fullest so she won’t drown in desert heat. For now, she and her crew dress in Alabastian fabrics, and hope it will be enough. Their armor is attached to the caravan they bring along, ready to face battle once they reach the palace.

Vivi laughs as Nami twirls in the silks and offers her hand in dance. She sings along to market songs, Vivi stumbling in her words after her, but it doesn’t matter. Its happy, this desert song, more so when Nami overhears that this particular dance is for newlyweds.

They travel onward, keeping to Alabasta’s sole river, and celebrate in the night.

In the middle of the desert is a city which rain has not blessed for three years. In that city lies a warlord, a man made of drifting sand, who has stolen the life from Alabasta, forcing its flowers to shrivel and die. In the city are a thousand people and a bomb, a secret rune that no one else will ever see.

In this city is a war for the people, and now, its victors in gleaming familiar armor.

Aluburna is Vivi’s home and now, her battleground.

Nami does not see her king disappear to take down a man without solid form, or the rest of her crew disappearing to fight their own battles.

Her eyes are on Vivi and the way she screams for her people to stop, for just one moment, for forever, and Nami’s heart hurts.

It is then, dressed in fabric and gleaming gold, that Nami thunders.

She has torn down gods and tyrants before. She will harness that power and burn the universe for this woman.

Nami wields lightning and devotion like a sword and cuts the spirit of war in half.

The soldiers and rebels grow quiet, the leaders of the enemy forces gaping in awe at this tempest knight, and rain – glorious rain- falls down on desert flowers for the first time in years.

Vivi’s face as cool water splashes against it is beautiful. Nami can’t tell if its only rain, or tears as well, but Vivi is happy for the storm Nami wrought upon her kingdom, and –

Well.

Nami loves her.

(A kingdom is saved that day, and a tyrant bleeds into sand as the sun sinks below the horizon. There are sacrifices, losses, but Nami holds Vivi in her arms as they stare out over a sea of sand and kisses her so softly that only the song of victoryrings into the night.

Alabasta blooms once more.

And like Nami’s love, it’s as gorgeous as the sun.)

Vivi waves them off with an X carved into her wrist in black, a promise and a declaration that she is treasured by this King’s Crew, and they wave back, ink on their own wrists.

There are tears in everyone’s eyes, and Zoro suggests they kidnap Vivi.

Everybody wants to – they know Vivi wants to as well.

They all know why they can’t.

(Vivi’s heart belongs to three things, and three things alone. Her country, her family, and her love.

Nami knows Vivi will always be hers no matter where they are, but the desert of Alabasta and its people knows no such mercy.

Vivi must stay. But -)

“Hey Captain?” Nami asks, rubbing a hand on her wrist and her promise. “What do you say to a visit?”

By the answering grin on Luffy’s face, Nami knows she will hold her love again soon.

The Straw Hats sneak into the city at the dead of night, for no other reason than it is fun too, but Nami is the only one to reach the castle.

She’s silent in the night despite her armor. People do not call her Thief for no reason after all. And now she has a heart to steal.

Dressed in Alabastian armor again, she won’t fail.

She climbs the tower, creeping over vines and flowers that crawl up sandy walls. Alabasta is a miracle in earthen tones, and if Nami did not like the way the wind blew so much, she thinks she would stay.

Soon, she reaches the top, where Vivi lies.

Nami taps on the window.

(A surprise, she hopes.)

It only takes one tap before Vivi is looking at her, smiling, leaning out to place a kiss on her cheek.

She’s speechless as Vivi laughs so prettily.

“I saw you coming, love. I know your habits.”

And, well, who is Nami to argue that?

Vivi jumps out the window next to her, already clad in traveling clothes still fit for a princess, and laughs again at Nami’s face. Another kiss graces her, before Vivi begins to steal away from her own kingdom.

“Let’s go!”

And really – what can Nami do but agree with her?

They end up in a valley of flowers between desert cliffs, blooming in colors of red and orange and white, pink dotting the hillsides, as pretty as a sunset over the sea. They walk besides each other, Vivi on her horse, Carue, and Nami, armored, walking through delicate thorns.

Every step is a little more peaceful. Every step Nami reveres this queen. Ever step Vivi looks at this knight, her knight, and feels something warm and bright fill her heart.

Wednesday, Vivi had introduced herself to Nami, and Nami had fallen in love.

Vivi! Nami had cried as she brought the storm to Vivi’s desert, and Vivi had known, then more than ever, that she loved her.

There are stolen moments like this, when they walk amongst the flowers, and Nami is so very good at stealing things despite her title of honorable knight.

Nami steals this time with Vivi so often it feels like they never part.

(A permanent place on her wrist and in her heart, a love no god could ever break apart.)

The sunlight, warm and gentle, graces Vivi’s cheeks as Nami helps her from Carue, calloused hands fitting in place with calloused hands.

Flowers spread by Vivi’s feet, so beautiful, but there’s time to look at them later. For now, the freckles on Nami’s cheek brighten with her smile, the flow of her hair cascading down her back, and –

Vivi has seen portraits and queens and princesses across the world.

None compare to Nami’s glow.

A hand, ungloved and unarmored, caresses Vivi’s cheek then, as a pink, thornless rose is place behind her ear.

“I love you,” Nami says, and kisses her with her hands cupped around Vivi’s face.

I love you, says the feel of her lips, I love you, says the x on her rest, I love you, says the way Nami’s head rests on Vivi’s circlet when they pause for breath, I love you, Nami says with her entire being.

“I love you,” Vivi says back, not like a queen but like the woman Nami fell in love with, and hopes the burning passion in her heart gets across.

By the way they both fall into the flowers, petals exploding around them as Nami’s armor carefully avoids bruising her, Vivi thinks it does.

(I love you, a queen says to the knight of a foreign country, and it would be a tragedy if it was any one but them.)

#so anna remember when i aske dto write the nami vivi au for you. then never posted it. well i finished it and now its a birthday present for #surprise!!!#SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND SORRY FOR ALL THE INEVITABLE TYPOS!!!! your art is gorgeous and i love talking to you and your ideas and concepts #are just always fcking aweomse its amazing. anyway. HAPPY BIRTH!!! ENJOY!!! i sincerely hope you are not up rn #nami #vivi #lmao this is also why I checked earlier today wanted to make sure I was posting on the right date #op #one piece #namivivi #navi #knight au #legendaryjarcollection #onepiecehcs

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docholligay · 4 years

Note

"I have a 25 page document of snippets" 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

I APPRECIATE YOU THINKING THIS IS ANYTHING WORTH CARING ABOUT. It is not, I assure you, as it is mostly one offs, jokes, or highly indulgent BS, but assuming that WOULD be something you are into, a fewq of them are behind the cut (Its mostly overwatch, because most SM things, I assume people care about. SM things are in bold, for those looking for that.)

“I feel like I should be drinking champagne and wearing a dress cut a little too high in a room full of men who don’t appreciate me”

*******

"I gave you sunscreen before the hike." Pharah was unmoved as she walked to the fridge.

"Well SOME OF US keep all the melanin in our bloody bodies in a few dots on our faces, love, and that's the 'ole of it." Tracer slathered aloe on her back.

"This sounds like a personal problem"

**************

“You SHOT ME, Jesse!” She pointed her pistol at him.

He put up his hand. ‘And you’re right to be mad about that--”

“Oh, get stuffed!”

She sounded insulted, as if he had stolen her lunch from the company fridge rather than nearly killed her. It was like fighting with a sibling, bickering with her, who should be near his age but looked the same as he’d last known her, the same as she’d always looked. A sister nagging at her brother.

******************

Rei crossed her arms in some flavor of disapproval as she looked down the row of bassinets, the brightness of the room that was generally her friend annoying to her here. It was no good to her when EVERYTHING was white, when EVERYTHING was bright. It was just as bad as everything being dark, with the added flavor of wrongness sour in her mouth. In the dark, things could be warm, things could be quiet, and things could be safe, but things were only bright white to be bleached clean, black covered things, but white washed them away.

She looked down at the tiny baby, here in this palace to nothing.

"You have to get better," She looked around briefly for a chair, quick enough that no one would notice the effort, and, since she could not find one quickly she did not try and longer. Standing was better for the seriousness of her speech, anyhow. "Because your sister likes Mina better. I have to be someone's favorite. And since I'll be your favorite, you are going to be the most successful and strongest kid this hospital has ever seen."

*************

“We’ve got Oscar VIctor Echo Romeo Whisky Alfa Tango Charlie Tango Hotel on site, please advise.”

Tracer stared at him flatly. “Yeah, and while they’re advising you, tell them we can Sierra Papa Echo Lima Lima.”

He looked at her like she had cracked some code, the note of surprise on his face both marked and insulting.

“I’m a bloody pilot!” She tossed her hands into the air. “I was raised by pilots!”

He nodded and walked away, mumbling into his radio again.

“Tracer--”

“Me first picture book was the bloody phonetic alphabet!”

“I do not think anyone doubts--”

She paused, hands on her hips, and took on a curious expression, the rage of the moment giving way to a chipper sort of memory just as quickly. “Thought me name was spelt Lima Echo November Alfa till I was five, I did.”

**********

Mercy kept a few simple things at the side of her bed, and Tracer looked through them. A notebook with a pen tucked into the spiral. A few letters from Montana. A brown leather book with gold writing on the cover in Hebrew and German. Of course it would be German. Why wouldn’t it be? A blue book, Hebrew on the cover, which Tracer almost tossed to the side until she noted the English at the very bottom of it.

“Tryin to bloody well read this thing! And it’s backwards!”

“I certainly hope it doesn’t matter, Ang. Barooch ataw adoughnay, elohinu melech ‘a olam--”

“I don’t think that’s right.” Winston put a cloth on Mercy’s head.

“Well, if anyone else would like to be an authority on the Jewish religion, I welcome the ‘elp.” She looiked back at the book, “This bloody unit ‘as the diversity of a 90’s cartoon”

************

Ana wheeled around

“I understand, Fareeha. I wasn't there for you! Get a therapist. Work it out. You think my mother was there for me?”

************

“Have you lost your fucking lesbian mind? Haruka, talk about shit that will get you kicked out, fuck, THAT SHIT WILL GET YOU KICKED OUT! Not her! She will never have to pay for it!” Minako crouched down in front of her and forced Haruka to look at her, “Girls like her do not pay for that shit, Haruka. We do. They will split us up.”

Haruka shook her head. “We’ll get kicked out together, if we do, and when Michiru graduates--”

“You fucking!” Mina exploded to her feet, pulling at her hair, “You’re not an adult! You think social services isn’t gonna put you in some shithole? You think some shithole’s gonna keep us together?” She whirled back and looked at Haruka. “They will split us up, Ruka. You keep parading this in broad daylight, and they will split us up.”

Haruka got up, taking a deep breath, her eyes shining and wet.

“I’m really tired of being ashamed, of,” she took another deep breath, “everything that I am. I’m not smart, and I’m not, girly, and everyone’s telling me I’m not, you know,” she took a deep breath, staring at the ceiling, and for a moment there was nothing but the sound of her breathing. “God made me like I am. I know that.”

“Church policy doesn’t dead in what God made, I don’t think.”

********

Fareeha Amari looked over the office, empty now, save for two desks, one in each corner of the room, across from each other as they had been from the day they were hauled up the stairs. A sleek, metal desk of military manufacture, flawlessly painted in a firm grey, and an old, wooden desk, the varnish worn thin in places, a crack running down the side of it, drawer pulls mismatched. They had sat across from each other, like that, since the day she and Tracer had hauled both of them up the stairs, into that smelly, yellowing office above the chip shop.

The one she was now leaving.

She had put it off for far too long, she knew. She should have moved them shortly after the Siege of London, when people had begun to join them. It became silly a year after that, when her office was here and the rest of the offices were on the opposite end of the city. But she had not wanted to leave. The other office was so far, and Tracer could never have managed to show up even the little she did.

After Tracer died, it would have seemed a betrayal.

She never would have wanted this, Parvati had reminded her, taking her cousin’s office chair as her own, a box of tin airplanes on the seat, in fact, she told you so. More than once.

************

“I would do anything, for your Mutti.”

Avital would hear some version of this many times over her life. When she was older, it would strike her that there was no sense of drama in it, no grand gesture. It was simply a fact, like any other Pharah might say in passing. The sun rose in the east. The tide came in. She would do anything for Mercy.

**********

“I am the snake biting my own ankle. I am the pillar of salt. I am peering beyond my shoulder even as I walk forward through the thorns of my own mistakes, trapped in amber and timeless.”

*************

Haruka sat on the couch, staring straight ahead.

“I have a dad.”

“I mean it seemed pretty statistically likely.” Mina crossed her arms and leaned against the couch.

“MInako.” Michiru quietly twitched her eyebrow.

“Sorry. But like, yeah.” Mina looked at Haruka. “You want me to go get him? He’ll probably get lost going back to the hotel.”

“Yes. No.” she continued to stare. “I don’t know.”

#rhiorhino

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sweetsmalldog · 5 years

Text

Legends Lead Pt 1

Part 2

Warnings: Stealing, Rich People

Description: In a far off fantasy land a prophecy looms and everyone is preparing, except the central person of said prophecy. Because he has no clue it exists.

Author’s note: Welcome to the story that’s been dancing in my head for about a month!

Owen smiles down at the party from the rafters. Gold and jewels reflecting the torch light. The richest people on this side of the kingdom danced. They danced to the finest music in the land played by the best bard, namely Owen’s boyfriend.

Curt Mega master of music and his own dumbassery. Disguised as some snobby bard who had more acclaim but a fifth of the talent Curt had.

The plan was simple. Lady Lenore of house Rine (they were big and fancy and rich and that’s all that mattered) was well known to be a massive fan of Victor of Fallhearth (the bard Curt was impersonating) and she was wearing one of the most valuable necklaces this side of the continent, the Ocean’s Heart. So Curt’ll start up a conversation with her before leading her off to the most secluded part of the gardens with the promise of being the first to hear his new song. But instead he’ll play a sleep spell. Then they take the necklace before finally getting out of the manor.

As Curt’s song came to an end Lady Lenore walked up to him. Owen couldn’t hear what they were saying but he could see Curt’s face, it was going well. He made sure they were leaving the ballroom before exiting threw the window he had entered threw.

The moon shone over the ocean. He could hear the waves crashing against the cliffs. The stars shone above, and he could faintly hear the first soothing notes of a sleep spell.

By the time he reached the far corner of the large gardens Curt had finished the spell and Lady Lenore was asleep.

Owen carefully unclasped her necklace. The necklace was probably worth more then anything else they had ever stolen together.

“Your best heist?” Curt smiled.

“Our best,” Owen corrected “My second best.”

“Oh?” Curt raised an eyebrow “What’s your best?”

“You,” Owen smirked as Curt laughed softly.

“That was less of a heist and more a rescue,” Curt scoffed.

“I was there to steal a secret treasure,” Owen kissed Curt’s cheek “And it just so happened to be you.”

Curt rolled his eyes but didn’t argue that as they silently made their way to the stables, and the horse they had ‘borrowed’ from that Victor guy.

They rode off on the strong black mare after Curt stuffed his disguise in a bag revealing his normal clothing, soft buckskin breeches and a white cotton shirt (his usual poofy sleeved outer shirt wouldn’t fit under the disguise). His messy dark hair catching the moonlight as they rode away. The soft points of his ears no longer hidden by the ridiculous red velvet hat Mr. of Fallhearth was well known for.

Owen has felt a vindictive delight at throwing the gaudy hat into the sea, knowing that it would be destroyed by the cold sea water.

After they reached their camp they released Fallhearth’s horse, she’d find her way back to her master.

Curt whispered to himself and summoned some soft yellow lights so they could see, now that the moon was blocked by dense trees. They get ready for bed in comfortable silence. Then a twig snaps and they both turn. At the edge of their camp is a woman in a long black cloak who’s red hair dances in the light.

Taglist: @robertstanion @gone-to-oregone @haniawritesthings @eboy-butch @agent-megagirl @purplegori @showstoppingnumbrr @imtooaromanticforthis @gayrudeboys @thatweriddoodlingllama @bi-gstupid @supreme-overlord-bubbles @meredithandlaurenaremyqueens @semoka @renegadepear @are-those-real-gators @ready-to-mcfucking-die @debthestoner @charlie-bean @craphole-is-lord @oh-my-duck-lord

#spies are forever #dnd au #curtwen #cowen #curt and owen #agent mega #agent curt mega #owen carvour #im so happy to finally post this!!!!

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katzuyas · 5 years

Text

commission for @victuurikatsu

thank you so much, jenny, I had a blast with this ❤️

The champagne bottle they brought with them is long forgotten once they spread the blanket on the yellow sands of the Hasetsu beach. Sunbathing is nice, and Victor basks in the warmth that runs its hands over his body like a dutiful lover, but there is something else that brings him even more joy than the tender touch of the sun's rays. Something that is right there, all within arm's reach should he have the courage to actually reach for it – Yuuri's sweet smile, which brightens Victor's world into a kaleidoscope of colour whenever their eyes meet.

And they meet a lot.

It almost feels to Victor as if the entire world has ceased to exist between the two of them. He's been watching Yuuri for so long and, truth be told, ever since he arrived in Hasetsu those few months prior, he hasn't been able to look anywhere else. The world in Japan is different than anything he knows, but Victor can't focus on admiring it for long, because everything – all of its beauty, splendour, charm, – it all pales in comparison to Yuuri. Victor looks everywhere and nowhere, but without fail his eyes always return to one point. To the centre of his world. To Yuuri, who in his eyes shines brighter than the sun, the moon, and even the stars.

This, now, feels just like that too, with only one slight exception, but one that makes it all the more precious: now when Victor turns his head to the side, Yuuri looks at him too. And he smiles, as if he knows how Victor's heart flutters about his chest like a bird aching to fly.

"Do you feel like swimming?" Victor asks when the warmth of Yuuri's gaze crawls deep under his skin. Combined with the warm sands, the sun, and the suddenly restricting clothes, taking a dip in the ocean seems like a splendid idea.

"I think I'm going to stay, but you go ahead." Yuuri shakes his head, offers Victor another smile."Don't let me stop you."

He doesn't say it, but the look he's giving Victor does: he intends to watch.

Victor's cheeks flush even more than they already are from the sun's heated kiss, but he can't begrudge Yuuri for that decision. In his place, he would've done the same. He is, however, in this most optimal position, and he intends to use it to his advantage. To give Yuuri a show that will truly be worth his time. Something that he won't be able to resist.

He starts by peeling his t-shirt off his back, slowly at first, and then off in one fluid motion. His hair gets mussed and falls in his eyes, but it's all for the best, because Yuuri's eyes seem to glow with inner light when Victor turns to him after.

Victor winks against the squeeze of his heart. "Don't mind if I do."

He drops his shirt on the blanket right next to Yuuri and then drops his shorts there, too. Only in his swimming pants, which don't much differ from the thongs he usually wears, he struts over to the water. The sun is a warm touch on his skin, but Yuuri's gaze seems almost like a sunburn in comparison – it's so heated that it almost stings where it lands on the small of Victor's back.

Smug beyond what he should be, Victor bends to do a few stretches before he enters the water. Conveniently, while he's at it, he gives Yuuri the best view of his assets: all the things he could have at a single word. Or a single kiss, Victor is hardly a picky man.

He's sure that if he turned around, he'd see Yuuri's flushed, embarrassed face even from this far away, yet he resists the temptation. It could give Yuuri an idea of what Victor is doing, after all, and that… that would seem rather desperate, no? And no matter how desperate Victor actually is, it wouldn't do to show Yuuri that. Victor will be patient, and he will wait until Yuuri himself gives him a sign.

The water is blissfully cool against his feet when he first steps into the shallows, but it's definitely warmer than he imagined it to be. Victor takes a few laps, floats around a little to cool off and, once done, he returns back to the shore a dripping wet picture of human strength and godlike beauty.

Yuuri's eyes never leave him for a second and it becomes more obvious when Victor returns to their blanket. Victor's feet and calves are caked with sand, which clings and clings to his skin like Victor wants to cling to Yuuri. Now especially so, because Yuuri is lying there shirtless, propped on his elbows like a man who knows exactly what effect he has on others. His hair has been pushed back, much like Victor has done to his own, but whereas he looks like he's about to go bald with his big, pronounced forehead, Yuuri looks casual, artfully messy, and hotter than the sun blazing down on them.

A droplet of sweat rolls down his chest and Victor bites his lip to hold back a groan.He turns his eyes away in order to keep the last of his sanity before he drops onto the blanket right next to the man of his most heated dreams.

"How was the water?" Yuuri asks, innocent, but to Victor it sounds much more like teasing. Only the uncertainty of which one it really is holds him back from acting on what he most wants.

"Too hot," Victor mumbles back, speaking of both the water and Yuuri.

"That's a shame. I was thinking of taking a dip myself."

That's all Yuuri says, but Victor imagines it in his mind's eye, and… well. He's pretty sure that if Yuuri chose to do that, Victor would hardly be able to keep his hands to himself. Even now it is a great struggle to simply lie next to him, but with Yuuri wet and dripping and–

Victor chokes on his own breath. They always say that two can play that game, but, truly, Victor currently feels played like a fiddle in Yuuri's talented hands. And he isn't even mad about it. Quite the contrary. If only Yuuri said the word, Victor would allow him to play with whatever he'd like. No questions asked. Willingly, and oh so lovingly.

"You can still do that," Victor finally says once his breath returns to him from where it strays after his lewd thoughts. "Or… I can show you a better way to cool off."

"Really? What's that?"

There is nothing innocent in Yuuri's question, and there is nothing like that in his eyes, either, so Victor throws all the innocent playtime to the side, and rolls with it. Maybe this… maybe this is the moment. His moment. Their moment.

At long last.

"You need to get closer for that," Victor says, and the way his lips part must tell Yuuri everything, because colour returns to his cheeks in seconds.

He does as Victor says, though, daring and bold. It reminds Victor of that night, the night of the Sochi banquet, and his own heart flutters inside his chest as if to call a blush to his cheeks to match Yuuri's.

"And then what?" Yuuri asks.

There's maybe a head's width between them, so little space that the distance could be covered if they both just stretched their necks a bit. Victor rolls to his side like Yuuri has done, and peers into those bright brown eyes, but his gaze doesn't stay there for long. It slips lower, down, until it rests enchanted against the pink, plush lips that–

"A little bit closer," Victor whispers.

A seagull begins to cry somewhere, but Victor is too trapped within Yuuri's charm to do anything but register it in the back of his mind. Yuuri shifts slightly closer. Now they are within a breath's reach and, really, isn't that just perfect?

Slowly, Victor brings up his hand to Yuuri's chin and captures it between his fingers. He did the same thing on the day he arrived in Hasetsu, but back then Yuuri escaped his touch as if it burned. Now, when Victor's fingers brush against Yuuri's skin, it feels as if he was the one who got burned, but he holds on, loving every second of the searing awareness of their skin touching.

"Just a little bit closer, still…"

Victor runs his thumb against Yuuri's bottom lip and the look in Yuuri's eyes–

Oh.

Victor knows he will never forget it, not for the rest of his life and maybe even beyond.

"I can't say I'm feeling any cooler now," Yuuri breathes a puff of heated air against Victor's mouth and Victor's mind spins as if he inhaled the sweetest of wines. "What if it doesn't work on me?"

"Well," Victor licks his lips, and burns hotter when Yuuri's breath hitches in turn, "you won't know until you try it, but I think it will work on you just fine."

Gently, tenderly, he leans forward so as to give Yuuri one last chance to pull away.

He doesn't.

With his heart in his throat, starved and overwhelmed enough to blink away tears, Victor presses his lips against Yuuri's. They're chapped, dry, and warm from the sun and from how hard Yuuri's heart must be beating – almost as hard as Victor's is, he's sure – but they taste like Victor knew they would.

Of freedom. Of joy. Of life and love, and brilliance beyond any other.

And when Yuuri kisses him back, when he pushes Victor down onto the blanket and kisses him senseless, Victor knows that the heat of the sun is nothing in comparison to the heat of Yuuri's lips. He wraps his arms around Yuuri's neck, lets his hand settle on Yuuri's back, where the blanket has pressed small patterns of thread into his skin, and he drowns in warmth – that, which blossoms straight from his heart outward.

"I don't think it worked," Yuuri says once they part.

His breathing is short, but so is Victor's, and both their faces are flushed from more than the sun.

Victor gasps, still breathless. "I think we need to try it again to tell for sure."

Yuuri's soft snort is a sweet breeze against Victor's cheek.

"You just want to kiss me again, don't you?" Yuuri asks, flushed and amused, and so beautiful, Victor's heart squeezes in his chest. Who is Victor to lie about something so true?

"You knew it all along," Victor accuses softly.

Yuuri's eyes gleam.

He doesn't reply with words, but he rolls onto Victor, a sweet weight against Victor's bare body, and joins their lips together. He smells of summer and sand and the sun, but Victor can hardly breathe him in when all his breath gets stolen when Yuuri deepens the kiss and claims his mouth as is his right.

And Victor, Victor gives into it – into the kiss, the love that burns in his heart, and the heat that wraps tightly around them – because this is all he ever wanted. A warmth of love, a warmth of life, and a man to kiss him on the beach sands until he's drunk and his head swims with nothing but the thoughts of them, years later, as they grow old together in happiness that fills others with just as much love as they have for each other.

All the while their champagne sweats in the bottle that hasn't even been opened.

if you enjoyed this story and would like to support me, here’s how you can do that:

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#yuri on ice #victuuri #viktuuri #victor nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #victuurikatsu #my fic #commissions #summer of mutual pining more like summer of mutual thirst #ours as well #rtdxcvhbjnm /)u(\

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courtorderedcake · 5 years

Text

Hallow : ch III - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Read on AO3 here.

Ch 3 / ?? - in which women befuddled the Darkness in various ways

Emma woke up to bright spring sun and the smell of baking bread all around her. She could hear the sound of laughter and voices coming from downstairs; it was rather disconcerting, considering the circumstances of their arrival. Looking at her state of dress, she was glad to discover something had been put out for her. She slipped out of her muddy shift, folding the now stiff fabric as small as she could. The clothing laid out was bizarre; a woolen tunic split down the front with large buttons in a dark shade of magenta, and a soft blue dress made of several fabrics she couldn’t place. Emma felt exposed without the proper undergarments, but in this case she was more happy that she had clothes than she was worried. She hoped whoever had provided them could arrange a bath to be drawn later. When no servants arrived to bring her a tray or announce breakfast, Emma shrugged it off; not all households had servants in them.

Heading down the stairs and vaguely remembering the layout from the night before, she was brought to a landing where a glass door led to a storefront and more stairs led down to a living space. Nearing the bottom she heard a man’s low laugh. Turning the corner, she was shocked to see Killian smiling slightly, laughing at something one of the women across from him was saying. A woman with white-blonde hair in a braid sat next to an auburn haired woman. They were obviously related, sharing the same eyes and nose, but the auburn haired woman had her hair arranged in a braided crown and looked significantly more carefree. When Killian saw her, his smile faded, his eyes looking down at the cup in front of him. The two women followed his previous line of sight, turning to look at Emma. The blonde scowled, eyes narrowing and face becoming a harsh, icy, mask of anger. Emma took a step back, shocked by her reaction. The auburn haired woman put a hand on the blonde’s shoulder, and smiled grimly at Emma.

“Good morning.”

Emma let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “Good morning. I’m sorry to intrude, I’ll just -”

Killian let out a grunt, still looking down at his cup, and the blonde stood to sit next to him. Emma wondered if this was a lover of his, with the way she possessively took his forearm, shooting daggers of ice towards Emma.

The auburn haired woman watched as the blonde moved away, and then smiled back towards Emma.

“Come join us for breakfast, please. I’m Anna, and this is my sister Elsa.” She motioned Emma over to sit next to her, as Elsa stiffened. “Ingrid will be over in a minute, she’s just finishing up bread for the day. We open in a bit.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t -” Emma started, before Ingrid flew in, wearing a blue checkered apron covered in flour.

“Couldn’t what? Join us for breakfast? Nonsense, Emma, I baked some danishes just for you and Killian.” She motioned Emma over to the seat next to Anna with a smile on her face. Emma sat and Anna offered her another warm smile. The blonde woman sat diagonally to her right, Killian right across from her. “Would you like some coffee or tea, my dear? Maybe some juice?”

“Tea would be lovely.” Emma felt her body start to loosen, her shoulders growing less tight as Anna and Ingrid started chatting about the weather outside. Ingrid placed a tea service, plates, a pitcher of juice, and a plate of pastries on the table. She rushed away for a moment longer as Anna handed out plates, grabbing a small kettle for Killian. Emma was astonished to see him smile at the woman pleasantly without a hint of arrogance, hatred, or spite. Anna and Ingrid kept the chatter pleasant, even teasing the man in front of her as if he wasn’t a murderer. Emma’s eyes wandered as she was excluded from the conversation, even with Ingrid and Anna’s many attempts to try to include her. The conversation was stilted and awkward without her commentary.

“Oh!” Emma exclaimed, catching sight of a familiar face in the portraits on the wall as the mood stayed light. She spoke more out of surprise, words coming that she could not bottle even as Anna’s eyes flicked to her in distaste. “I recognize him. Captain Liam, right? He looks so happy here! We have a portrait of him up in one of the hallways, in full uniform, looking very serious. I used to talk to him while playing with my dolls or sing to him to make him happy. He - well, my pretend version of him I guess - even gave me advice.”

The room was silent as Emma looked back at the table. Killian’s jaw muscles were so tight, she could see them ticking in time with the clock. Ingrid and Anna were both casting horrified glances at Elsa, who was trembling with a rage that made her previous glares look tame.

“I’m sorry if I said something that -” Emma started, not knowing what had caused the mood to turn hostile.

Killian stood, and left the room without a word, and Elsa trailed behind, casting one last glare at Emma. Emma realized she could see wetness in the woman’s eyes. The room fell silent again, both Ingrid and Anna looking at the doorway the others had left through.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know - I mean, I knew he had passed but -” Emma stammered, trying to make sense of the situation.

Ingrid sighed, sad and tired. She laid her head in her hands. “Liam… Liam was Killian’s brother.” Emma realized too quickly why Killian’s eyes had seemed so familiar, why she felt compelled to trust him against her mother’s warning. Her emotions turned to a stone in her stomach, and she sank heavily into her seat. For the first time in many years, she felt a twisting feeling. Shame. Ashamed of the war that took so many nameless brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers from their families in the name of peace between the realms.

“And Elsa - Elsa and Liam were courting.” Anna spoke quietly, almost in a whisper. “They were so happy, he and Elsa. Killian had met a beauty himself and was courting her, but Elsa and Liam…” she paused trailing off, still gazing after her sister. “They were so in love. It was barely a courtship even by today’s standards. They just knew. He gave her a ring, and said he’d be back soon. No one expected the Goblins or the Darkness to…”

Ingrid coughed softly, and Anna looked down at her lap. Emma felt the air change, long swept away sadness and anger emerging from disused corners. Regina had drilled history lessons into her brain about how her parents had married and peace was won. Or so she had thought. The history had been clear, but now it was murky with a new understanding of long past events.

The Goblins, in a last move of madness, had resorted to blood magic - tearing two brothers from people they cared about without mercy and creating the Darkness they sought, unaware it would choose a vessel like Killian Jones. Unaware of the events that would transpire.

Milah, stolen away with hundreds of other women of all realms to keep their blood magic strong as they controlled the Darkness against the will of its vessel.

Liam, lying dead in red-stained waters with his entire armada as destruction rained down in time with barked commands.

The dagger, broken by the power of her parents’ True Love, taken from the Goblins as the Dark One raged in torment. The last moments of a united council sealing away the Goblins in a contained territory, and Killian in a dark cell for as long as needed.

Killian, forced for centuries to remember that he had lost everything. Or almost everything, the flicker of hope never quite going out.

Emma swallowed hard. Everything that her parents had done, everything Emma possessed, everything she was, her entire existence in this world and her own was an attack on the memories that Killian, Elsa, Anna and Ingrid buried, trying to forget. She’d ruined quiet peace with her imagined conversations, as Liam told her stories of the sea, and sang with her in gruff baritone from an imagined place in her mind. After falling into their lives with all the gentleness of a rockslide, how would she fix the impact of what she was, and what she represented? There was no way. Guilt and fear weighed as heavy and new emotions on her shoulders.

“I know - I know there is nothing I can say or do to make this right,” Emma whispered, “but please let me help you with anything I can?”

Ingrid nodded, a hesitant smile creeping onto her face. “Alright then. Let’s get you a shower and an apron.”

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Working in the bakery was tedious in its methodology and precision, mixing powders, eggs, and milk in large vats that stirred with mechanical innards. It reminded her of alchemy, and took her mind from her fears as she focused. Emma had a new found respect for Granny and any kitchen workers after the first few hours, especially since her clumsiness meant much more work was left to be done. At least she could try the shower again if she became nervous and made a mess; her hands still hadn’t stopped trembling from shock and leftover adrenaline.

“Why did you leave the realms?” Emma asked quietly, digging a scoop into a bowl labeled ‘C. chip cookies’. Scooping out a large portion, Anna all but ran over to stop her and show her the proper amount.

“They get bigger, they grow in the oven. Gosh, to think you’ve never cooked before.” Anna looked at Emma contemplatively for a moment before laughing gently. “I guess that’s part of it. My sister, Ingrid, and I - well. We come from a long line of Scandinavian Fae, Brownies, Trolls and Ice Folk. We were ladies of the court in the old northern palace for some time. It was located maybe three hundred kilometers from here, up on top of the mountains.” Anna flashed a toothy grin at Ingrid, who was smiling while mixing. “Then the war took our parents, our younger brother Olaf, our Uncle Nemo, our cousins, Liam… It destroyed my friends, destroyed our ancestral home. For me, I needed to stay where my memories were strongest. This was Uncle Nemo’s mill and we had fond memories summering here as well. Auntie, what about you?”

“There isn’t much to say. There was nothing left there for us. The magic was gone, metaphorically and literally. With very little magic, the kingdom falling from the peaks of snowy mountains to the earth, the ice of our towers cracking - we couldn’t rebuild without an unlimited supply of power again.” Ingrid shrugged, smoothing out dough in front of her with a rolling pin. She spread a thick brown filling over it with one hand, the other hand rolling it into a complex braid. “After I lost Nemo… This was a way to feel his presence. I feel him here so much, even now. He built our room to look over my mountains, while he could see his harbor. I still struggle looking at the sea. I miss his laugh, and I never thought I’d say it, but I miss his hunger.” Ingrid smiled, her voice wistful while completing several braids with different fillings. Emma could only continue shaping what would be cookies into uneven lumps.

Anna carried a metal tray past on one shoulder, correcting her scoop size once more before scurrying to the ovens and sliding it inside. “We put a glamor up for humans, so we look as though we’re aging and a new generation takes over, but we have been here long enough to watch the town become a city, and the city become a tourist destination. It’s something. We have purpose.” Pounding the dough, Anna worked fluidly, unstoppable in her routine as she sped through her tasks in an unending stream of movement.

Emma huffed in annoyance at her failure, plopping down more cookies on her first tray, glancing back to Ingrid who was now creating heart shaped tartlets, and Anna who weaved lattice over pies in less than a minute.

“Don’t get discouraged now, Princess!” Anna giggled. “We do this every day. You’ll be making the perfect sized cookies for us in no time.” Her positivity was sweet, considering how especially awful Emma was at every task set before her.

The work became easier as both women showed her techniques, and Emma cut shapes in pastry dough or kneaded loaves of bread. Kneading was becoming her fast favorite, her hands and occasionally forearm or elbow pushing air out of the round ball, pushing her frustration out as well. It was cathartic - and wonderful.

When the loaves were beaten into submission, Anna showed her how to make frostings or where they were in the cold box they kept, and this turned fortuitous. Emma was a natural immediately. Icing with delicate brocade or ethereal lace, Ingrid gasped at the cookies she laid out. Stained glass, something Ingrid referred to as “similar to Art Nouveau”, geometric patterns, and stunning jewel tones rested on trays in carefully placed positions. A wedding cake initially gave Emma pause, but she painted it in a tapestry of unicorns and peacocks, the rich, velvety, colors so realistic one could almost feel the loom’s weave. Bright flowers in the miniscule were easy and like home, unlike the designs Ingrid had pointed out in glossy paper picture books, named strange things like ‘Tartan’, ‘Paisley’, and 'Plaid’.

Elsa returned to see a beautiful pearl white and pale blue cake in three tiers, adorned with rock candy in a variety of watercolored hues piled high and topped with a light dusting of sugar. The effect was stunning, mimicking a frozen waterfall cascading over river boulders.

“Do… Do you like it?” Emma stepped timidly from where she had been standing, watching Elsa take in her work.

Elsa nodded, but said nothing else as she fled to her room.

Killian looked in briefly when he returned, but was more interested in the croissant he plucked from the display case with an aloof nod.

“Enjoying the commoner’s life, Princess?” he smirked, chewing his croissant. “Take care, or you may enjoy it too much and want to stay.” His back was to her, so she gave a slight cough to grab his attention with a frown. Carefully sliding a plate towards him over the case’s counter, Emma crossed her arms and stepped back to lean against the wall, as far from his presence as she could be.

“I don’t think life on the run and being separated from my family would provide me enjoyment. Ingrid asked if I wanted to make you something. I didn’t, but I felt I could not refuse. So, there’s that. Think of it as a thank you.”

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

A tan piece of what possibly was cheesecake sat in front of Killian, covered in a dark brown sauce that dripped off the top of the slice and down the sides. Chuckling lightly, he looked, picked up the spoon, and spun it between his fingers before touching it to his lips. “Is that all your gratitude is worth?“

Emma stared at him with cold hatred. “A jest, love.” He leaned forward with eyes trained on her face, pleased he could feel her annoyance. ”If you’re interested in enjoyment, I’m sure we can find something suitable for your royal standards.”

“I am not your love, as I’ve told you.” The warning in her tone made him laugh again, her eyes only slits of frosted clover. “And I won’t be teased about my heritage and duty -”

“You know, if this is poisoned, I won’t die. Which is good because we know full well now that if I were to fall, your enjoyment would be in grave danger. You’d bore any unwitting night cap to death with your long winded explanations of decorum.”

Emma’s cheeks turned a bright red, and Killian’s smirk grew wider as the Darkness tittered. Her jaw set, and she let out a contemptuous huff.

“Shut up and eat your cake,” Anna said, rushing through to grab some pastries for a basket, the strange clear paper it was wrapped in crinkling. “You ungrateful prat.”

Emma slumped back against the wall, her face sour, and Killian turned towards the dessert. Torturing her was less fun today, especially when one of the other women lurked closeby to chastise him.

“I don’t even like sweets,” he mumbled. Emma snorted in derision, sending a flare of irritation at the dismissal through him. Grumbling, he scooped up a bite, more than ready to tell her how awful it was.

The first bite was sublime.

Dark chocolate and coffee married bittersweetness to a tangy sweet burn of the sauce, which Killian recognized immediately for its flavor. Rum, the spice and molasses possibly mixed with caramel.

Emma was gone when he looked up in surprise, but Anna was back with another tray. Sliding it into place as he took another bite, she smirked.

"She worked hard to make that. I realize your issues with her family, but considering that you both are harbored here, maybe you could try understanding that she is in a place very like yours. Waiting and hoping that her loved ones are safe."

He felt hot anger at her comparison, but as she stared back at him, it fizzled. Anna was quiet but a brilliant debater, constructing arguments in quick succession that were almost impossible to dodge. A war of words with her was not something he wanted. Luckily, Anna turned to take her leave after a moment more. Taking another bite of cake, he considered her thinking. There was a small sliver of truth in her words.

In a strange way, Killian wished that they could all stay like this, held in this happy oblivion forever more -

A time capsule moment where this could be a new normal, and he could forget everything that he had lost; the peace he might find if the pale memory of Milah’s hand in his or Liam’s roar of laughter over dinner faded away. Instead, four uneasy pairs of eyes watched him as if he were a bomb, ready to explode at any time. The jade pair bore into him with glassy loathing, but behind that lay fear and a frustrating penchant for sarcastic, annoying, ridiculously genuine kindness. Kindness he did not deserve, and she should not be giving, even if she was an innocent.

She’s not innocent. She is as guilty as her family, as everyone who let the war take -

"I know,” Killian replied, rubbing at his temple. There wasn’t surety in his words, the women adding another layer of distraction in his thinking. The Darkness, Ingrid’s calculated stare, Anna’s sharp tongue and Elsa being all around icy on top of the princess’s presence was akin to sticking his head in a vice.

You only want to forget to make it easier for yourself. Are you so selfish and cowardly that you would forego your revenge on their murderers? You deserve no penance.

“I know."

The whispered hiss echoed around the quiet shopfront, the creeping shadow around Killian feasting on his shame and the absolute truth in his reply.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

By the eighth day of their confinement, Killian was sure that being in such close quarters as these women was his own personal hell. The princess refused to do much more than spend all day in tasks that she could exhaust herself doing, her eyes going glassy when pressed on any sort of strategy or allies her parents may had mentioned in passing. The Darkness seemed to be at odds with itself when she was around, skittish and curious as it twisted words to toy with her.

She was quick witted and bitingly sarcastic if need be, especially under the provocation they provided. Killian found lewdness to be effective in getting her to quiet, while the Darkness was much more insidious. If they weren’t tormenting her, it was a torment in and of itself to be in the quiet alone with the nonstop voice. It moaned and hissed, screeching out complaints that felt like spikes through both temples, his forehead pulsing with effort to quiet it.

Useless! We will be under the thumb of some idiotic master again if you don’t act, if you don’t acquiesce -

His teeth set, fingers scrubbing against his jaw. For her part, Emma avoided him as much as possible, seemingly aware of how he scrutinized her at every turn while she did the same to him. It didn’t help matters that she had won the hearts of the women, letting them feed her advantageous information all while they consistently berated him for his vitriol. It had begun to feel like a game of chess where both players simply chased each other with no pieces to speak of.

They were your family, and now they betray you. Punish them for their insolence -

"No. No .”

In truth, they were all sympathetic to his plight. He had food, hot tea, salvaged books from Nemo’s library, and their caring questions that he refused to acknowledge. He had Milah’s locket, which he refused to look at.

This is not a holiday, they will be killed if you dither. We have the princess, get one of those chattering women to steal the shard -

“No. They would be at risk of getting hurt then, too-"

And? You could heal them when they return our power, our legacy -

~~ A flash of an old smile under blue eyes, the same color as Elsa’s paired with the same faintly colored hair. Elsa looks more like Olaf’s mother than older sister, the little boy’s grin missing teeth when she tickles him. He can so clearly see Olaf laughing as Liam tosses him in the air with Elsa braiding them crowns of forget me nots, Nemo chuckling as he smokes a long pipe, and Milah dancing barefoot over dusk touched rose petals. There’s nothing but happiness when Ingrid and her sister carrying heaps of food with Anna and Ingrid’s brother in law not far behind. It would be strange dining with the Duke and Duchess of Arendelle so casually if they were not so casual themselves. Barefoot, with rolled pantcuffs, there is a game of kicking a ball when the ale is drunk and so are the men. The Duchess may be making wet smacking noises on her son’s belly as his sisters help, calling him their little snow troll.

Nemo toasts with wine from golden summer grapes and sunshine reflected on sea waves, his voice booming off the tiles.

"To our family. A legacy, a lasting legacy for all of us!"

There is conversation over dinner, and later, quietly over drinks: Liam’s hushed voice telling him that he loves seeing Olaf, because when the war is over he wants a life with Elsa and a legacy, an heir to Blackwater.

The only person who makes Killian feel that same sense of hope, of wonder, is Milah. ~~

The Darkness groaned in frustration, scoffing as it tore apart the memory.

Are your ghosts loud tonight, weakling? The courtyard is empty. They’re long gone, and we’d have our revenge if you would -

"And, I have already told you. You will never hurt my family again. They will never play a part in whatever devious scheme you try and force them into. I hold my brother’s death upon my shoulders, and I will not shoulder another!”

Always the pretender, you sniveling coward. Fine. We’ll follow your line in the sand, vessel of mine - but should the time come where my schemes could have kept your loved ones from being hurt… Well. You’ll just add another name to that long, long list of yours, won’t you?

Sitting in the dark of the patio, the Darkness whispered incessantly, even as Killian refused to answer it. It wound around him tighter and tighter, staining his mood. Slithering through his thoughts like some great and poisonous snake, it laughed its reedy giggle as the endless night turned into endless day.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Killian did not join them for breakfast the next few mornings, Ingrid giving a shaky smile as she pointed out to the stone veranda that turned into the outdoor area. “He’s been out there since I went to bed on Sunday night, pacing like some caged animal. It’s like time stands still for him, out there for hours at a time, or disappearing to who knows where. Today I started the baking, made myself a bit of tea, and made him a pot - he’s still out there muttering.”

Emma nodded absently, pushing food around her plate.

“Girls. One of us will need to talk to him, and I thought it should be Emma this time. You seem to spur him into action with your attitude toward each other -"

"I’m sorry Ingrid, but I cannot today. I can't…” Emma started, but when the words stuck in her throat, she stood quickly and didn’t even bother to excuse herself, etiquette be damned. Running to her small makeshift quarters, she hiccuped as she locked the door behind herself and ignored the other women’s pleas. Not today. She could not do it today when concern for her family tore her to shreds. Not when her parents, her friends and family could be… Nil’s face came to mind, his complete indifference to her discomfort filling her with dread.

Not today. Emma was used to sacrifice, used to the idea of danger and the wolf at the gate. She recognized the size, shape, habitat, and behavior that presented danger. Here, however, with its hot breath burning her, being in the mouth of the wolf was too much, it was all too much without having someone who knew how much she missed the wonderful people that made up her family.

Sobbing into her pillow, she barely heard when Anna came in with a small tray and sat next to her.

“Do you want to talk to me?” Anna asked, and when Emma shook her head, she nodded quietly. “Would you like some tea?"

Emma sat up, surprised at how late it had gotten since she had excused herself. She nodded, accepting the offered cup from Anna.

"I knew your mom, you know.” Emma’s eyes widened infinitesimally, her interest captured. Anna continued shyly. “We weren’t close, or anything by any means, but… We talked, we knew each other."

"What was she like?"

"Your mom and I used to do etiquette classes together, but she’d always skip out. She hated the court, hated procedure and politics. Wanted to make a decision and be done with it, run in with arrow drawn to face the problem. We went to a ball in the Sacred Forest far north, and she wanted to leave until she saw a sword fighting contest. Her date caught wind of her desire and forbade her from joining - that is, until her protests won out.” Anna smiled a fond smile.“I had an awful date as well, a chosen match for me that was truly dreadful. Your mother’s was even worse than 'Handsy Hans’: your father’s twin, rest his soul. He was not kind to your mom. He bet a ring of Dav-, of your father’s, that he could beat her and suggested if he won he’d take her to a marriage bed with or without her consent.”

Emma winced.

“When he lost and your mom beat the bloody pulp out of him, David refused to give the ring to her. He claimed that it was his, and his brother had no right to take it. They fought until Snow took it and we all tried to make our way back. Your father, the persistent man he presumably still is, chased her. They fought constantly, but he challenged her. It was a whirlwind romance. James eventually met Princess Jacqueline of the Giants, and changed his ways completely. I heard The Airie and Beanstalk fell in the war, but did not want to believe that all of the Giants were lost.”

“I guess I never knew. My father doesn’t talk about Uncle James or Aunt Jacques. I only know of them through the brief correspondences they sent before the war took a turn. Well, that and their sculpture in our garden.”

“There are shame and secrets in every family. Your father called a vote on whether or not the Giants would receive a kingdom in the United Realms. James argued that not allowing them a seat at the table was forgetting their contributions to the cause. They had grown magic beans at one time, and Jacqueline was positive they could do it again. Instead, when the vote took place,they were denied, and then attacked by the Goblins. The Goblins had full control over the Darkness by that point, and…” Her eyes flickered down to her feet, like she was unable to look Emma in the eye as she continued.

“Sometimes the people we love the most are the easiest to make excuses for, but I believe Killian when he says he has to follow that ghastly dagger’s commands. He would never otherwise, I swear it.” Anna didn’t look up as the silence stretched between them.

“And… What was he like before?” Emma finally asked, watching as Anna’s eyes flicked up.

“Killian? Oh, he was a ladies’ man, a charmer in many ways but sincere in most. Milah made him tie himself up in knots."

"Was he kind?” Emma asked quietly.

“Yes. Too much sometimes, even. Gentle too. He could read people like no one else. He was sensitive, and had a way with words that was incomparable. I had a crush on him as a child, but we saw each other more like siblings after his mother’s death."

Emma cleared her throat. "It’s hard to believe he was ever kind.”

“We’re not talking about a person who is gone, or impossible to change, Emma.” Anna took Emma’s hand in her own, gently taking away the empty tea cup. “People have to want to change, to make changes, and to be a better person. You can’t change someone, but you can provide every chance for them to be better. You can see the good in them. Please don’t forget that there is good in him.” In pleading tones, Anna squeezed Emma’s hand. “At least not before I do,” she tried to joke, but it fell flat, the waver clear in her tone as she trailed off.

Emma swallowed hard, her throat suddenly raw despite the tea she had just drank. She had to destroy him, her mother was clear on that, and yet…

“I’ll try. Tell me more about back then, if you would?” Emma asked, her voice uneven.

Anna recounted tale after tale, and Emma’s mood started recovering from the slump she had left breakfast in.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

As the noonday sun moved quickly into evening, Anna returned with an empty tray from Emma’s room, washing the dishes as Ingrid sipped a cup of tea herself. The older woman’s eyes were trained on the long shadow made by the man prowling their terrace, his low voice sometimes coming into hearing, just low enough where words could not be discerned. Ingrid’s mouth turned downward at the edges, and she turned to Anna.

“How is she?” Ingrid took another sip of her tea, listening to Anna’s sigh. “About as well as you’d expect. She’s struggling, and doesn’t understand how to struggle. She’s stuck in the normal status quo we used to be in, where if you’re sad, you bottle it up and smile, look pretty, nod your head, and don’t dare to let any of the nobility see any weakness. The problem is, we’re all nobility, and he’s a -”

“He’s a broody idiot, and she’s an airhead,” Elsa supplied from the doorway. Taking a seat next to Ingrid, they shared a look, Anna letting out a snort. “I don’t know who you want to sort him out, Aunt Ingrid, but I’d rather eat shards of a mirror. It’s no wonder Emma all but fled for the hills when you asked that of her this morning; you proposed sending a lamb to the wolf. I mean for God’s sake, it’s the 60’s; he can’t talk to women that way, but she’s also going to have to toughen up a little.” She gestured a hand dismissively at the terrace.

Anna let out a noise of shock, sitting down beside her sister. “You can’t mean that, Els. I promise if you get to know her, you’ll see -”

“See what? That she’s not some vapid, spoiled, castle-coddled waif? Anna, you are too sympathetic to her. It’s -”

Ingrid slammed a fist down on the table, sending Elsa’s teacup rattling. “Elsa. That’s quite enough. The girl is…” She searched for the words, nodding her head sideways in thought. “She’s trying. She’s very smart, picks up things quickly. And she’s survived this long with… With him. I think we can all agree that that is impressive.”

Elsa rolled her eyes, pressing her lips together until they were thin lines. “He’s still our Killian, he’s just angry. Hell, I’m angry! I can’t imagine how he feels. And so what if she’s hiding her feelings, tell her to join the guild. I have to pretend I like her.” “You are acting very much like a spoiled princess for one criticizing another for the same - a woman who has tried nothing but to be nice to you,” Anna muttered. Elsa looked taken aback, but Ingrid laughed.

Standing up with a groan and letting her knees pop, she dusted off her apron and smiled gently at the two women shooting eye daggers at each other. “I guess since you two will be busy, it’s up to me, then.”

The chorus of sniping comments from the sisters followed her out into the night air, muffling as she closed the door behind her.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Killian sat on a stone bench, still muttering but in a strange staggered way, a grunt of acknowledgement and then silence when Ingrid came nearer to sit. The buzzing of the Darkness and its whine that put his body on edge grew with her close proximity, a punishment for denying its dark whims of violence. “You never come out here unless you want me to come inside and be around the princess. What have I done now to deserve such punishment?” There was no joke in his sentence, the sourness of his tone layered as if an adder’s poison coated his tongue. Ingrid gave a small shiver despite herself, much to his satisfaction.

“She’s a lovely girl, truly kind. Could do with a bit of learning, especially on how humans act or how to do a day’s labor, though.” Ingrid sat next to him, and he tried to ignore her. The Darkness hated her, and hated how she ignored its presence. It snapped its jaws and demanded deference. “She’s a pitiful idiot with a royal pedigree. I hope you didn’t give her blisters on her royal palms,” he growled sarcastically and Ingrid rolled her eyes. The Darkness seethed.

“Killian Brennan Jones.” The tone in the older woman’s voice was forceful. “You owe me hundreds of favors, or as that leech of a creature calls them, ‘deals’. You will be kind to that woman, and take her out to calm her fears. She is the daughter of a dear friend of our family, and I will not have you in my home if she is a panicked mess worrying about them. We all have given parts of ourselves to the war, but she does not hold the blame. Be a gentleman, like the you I remember.”

Kill her, snap her neck, end this! She doesn’t respect us, we must demand respect! the Darkness squirmed and whined.

“I’m always a gentleman, Ingrid, and the leech is me and I am the leech, regardless of your memory. Have Anna take her shopping. They like each other,” Killian droned. He didn’t deserve respect, and Ingrid was right. The Darkness howled.

“No, you’ll go. She’s your charge, and holds your freedom.” At his quick eyebrow raise and ticking jaw, her eyes twinkled. “If you want to be free, you should be using honey, not vinegar.”

Killian grunted noncommittally.

“It’s settled then. I’ll lay out an outfit for her. Take her to the park, the big one in town by the sea.” Ingrid continued to babble on as the Darkness bit at him under his skin, desperately seeking vengeance. His firm line held true, though; he would never again hurt his family, no matter how the fanged monster tried. When the Darkness had settled to a normal skitter after licking its wounds, it chewed on the words Ingrid had spoken.

The silly woman might have a point.

Honey over vinegar.

#Hallow #Courtorderedcake #CSSNS #CSSNS 2019 #Captain Swan #Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

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stardancerluv · 5 years

Text

Tease

Part 5

Summary: After being with Roman Sionis for awhile, the man has made you his, so now will you enter his world of shadows and screams? What if the mouse becomes a cat?

Warning: Despite serious decisions being made kind of fluffy!

Swiveling in your seat, you looked out at the lights that lit up Gotham below. A month ago your relationship with Roman Sionis changed. You had crept down from his penthouse and saw he handled his enemies. You smirked remembering how one had been an ex of sorts.

The rumors had been true. He was a forced to be reckoned with and he was yours. It made you smile. Something about it was terribly exciting.

Turning back to your computer, using your electric pen you added some flair to this new add campaign you had been hired to do. But you were terribly bored. Sighing, you held your cheek in your hand. To tried to focus on it. Clicking this and that you changed how the text was, it looked much better. Maybe you could actually finish it tonight.

Though to be honest, all you wanted to do was head over to the club.

You jumped a little when there was a knock on the door.

“Yes,” you called out, “Come in.”

Your personal secretary, opened the door and smiled. “Two packages just arrived for you lady.” She was a sweet girl.

“What?”

“Yeah, want me to bring them in?” She added in an exceptionally excited tone. “They look fancy.”

You rolled your eyes and shrugged. “Sure.”

One was rather large, always good to have that extra table for mini meetings you mused. And the smaller one looked rather dainty what could this be about, you wondered.

Your phone came to life on your desk came to life, glancing over at it you saw who was calling and your heart leapt.

“Who is it? Is it, him?” You secretary was like a young sister at times and sometimes just as annoying as one.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, please give us the room.”

And the girl knew what that meant and left, but then she popped her bead back in for a moment. “Let me know what you get.”

“Yes..yes...now let me answer this.”

With a smile already across your face you answered the phone.

“Hello.” You purred softly.

“Hello baby, did you get the package?” Roman’s voice filled your ear.

“Oh, I should have known it was from you.”

He chuckled.

“It actually just arrived. I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Ooh good. Now I chose this for you to wear when you come to the club.”

Excitement, rose sharply in you. “I love that you bought me some clothes.”

“It’s not hard for a lovely girl.” He paused you could hear him taking a sip. “Now is the smaller package there?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect, are you alone?”

“Yes, the moment I answered the phone.”

“Good girl.” You could imagine him smiling. Something she loved. “Why don’t you open that one while we are on the phone.”

“Ok! Let me grab it.” Grabbed it and went back to your desk. “I am going to put the phone down.”

“Baby, put me on speaker phone. I want to hear your reaction as you see what’s in the small box.”

Eagerly, tore at the wrappings. You then saw the black and sliver trimmed box, some French was written on the outside. Oooo, you made a happy sound. “Oh! Oh...Roman....is this from that new chic French boutique?”

He chuckled. “Nothing is too good for my girl.”

Not that you couldn’t go there and buy something there yourself but the idea that Roman got you something from there thrilled you to no end.

“I’m about to remove the lid.”

“Keep going baby.” He urged you.

You lifted the lid and gasped. It was an exquisite pair of gloves. A wonderful mix of cloth and leather. Seeing them you knew exactly what this present meant, your breath was stolen. “Roman, they are lovely.”

“Just like you, baby.” He paused. “Now remember I can’t wait to see those on you tonight along with what is that other package.”

“I am even more excited to open the larger package now.” You happily told him.

“Wonderful.”

“Roman, do you want me to go right to the penthouse when I come over?”

“Yes. That would be perfect.”

*****

Once back at your apartment, you put on the lovely suit that Roman got you. It fit wonderfully. The color reminded you of the dress you wore when you had decided to return to the Black Mask. That was a long six months ago.

As you say on your ottoman zipping up your boots you caught your reflection. There was a slight flush to your cheeks. Getting up, you went over and braced yourself against your sink. You eyed your reflection. You were going to follow Roman’s and Victor’s lead. Well mostly Roman, since and Victor didn’t interact too much. Last you put on was your gloves. They were divine.

*****

Going, into the club you did love how his staff immediately fluttered around you like butterflies. You continued walking and went right up the penthouse.

Excitement, made your heartbeat fast. You were so eager to see him.

When you stepped out of the elevator you could hear his voice coming from his office. Upon walking into the doorway, he gestured for you to come in and perch on his desk.

“You should know we always have the best here.” He sighed, he ran his fingers through his silky strands. “Yes...yes...I will make, we will have her singing and not the other girl. Penguin, stop being so damn annoying or I will cancel you.”

He rested a hand on one of your thighs as you sat near him. Feeling playful you rose his hand higher, he smirked and squeezed.

“Look unlike your restaurant I have pressing issues at the club. We can iron out more details on Monday. That’s what I am saying. Goodbye.” He hung up. “Stupid bird.” He muttered.

“Hi baby.” He sighed raggedly as he sank back into his chair. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

“Roman,” you said innocently. Wanting his spirits to lift, you changed how you perched on his desk. Legs, crossed so he can take in the curve of your leg, how your stockings sat and then boots he first saw you wore striding as he put it into his club. “I loved what you picked out for me tonight.” You said demurely and it was true, you had always enjoyed the clothes he chose for himself, but this was a wonderful outfit he chose for you.

He opened his eyes, they widened a little as of seeing you all over again. He stood up.

“No teasing.” He scolded.

He gently motioned for you to uncross your legs. Resting both hands on your thighs he opened you. He went to where he belonged, between your legs, the skirt hitched so that there was nothing left hide under the skirt. You sighed as he let his hands drifted up, then stop at what you had wanted to surprise him with. You had gone out and bought something new,a black lacy garter. His hands stopped where stockings ceased and your soft skin began. He looked up at you.

“But this is a very nice distraction from that bird brain.” He chuckled.

*****

“Baby.” His blue eyes met yours.

“I bought them to surprise you. Those were my gift for you tonight.”

He inhaled, his heart picked up speed as he took off one of his gloves. He led his hand up, enjoying how your thigh stocking clad felt stopping to them relish how then he was able to feel your soft, smooth skin. “This is outstanding baby.” Smirking, hooking a finger around the taunt strap, he tugged then he let it snap. He smiled at you after you made a delightful sound.

“I am going to love these.” He slipped his hand back into the glove.

“Boss, we’re ready to roll.” Victor, appeared from out of no where.

He stiffened, annoyance rushed through him. It turned to anger as he saw you flushed a shade of red.

“Fuck Victor did you not notice us having a moment?” He barely wanted to acknowledge, he remained between your legs.

“Sorry boss.”

“Well now that you see that we are, meet us fucking down stairs!”

“Ok, boss...” He bowed his head, not looking at you. “Sorry, Y/N.” And he left.

He, held his hands up in the air. “I hate being interrupted, fuck where were we?” He chuckled, looking at you and he was able to calm down as he felt your legs. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I remember.” He smiled. “It is time for your final present.”

“Oh?” A smiled spread across your face, a sight he hated to admit but loved to create in you. “I don’t need anything else.”

“Daddy, wants you safe tonight.” He grew serious. He also knew what a month ago had done to him. Seeing you wield his knife had created desires in him, he didn’t know slumbered deeply in him. He was eager to see you really let loose, but he wasn’t going to push it. He didn’t want to lose you over it. “Now, baby do you really want to do this ?”

Before you, no one else’s thoughts or feelings ruffled him. But you, changed that.

“I do.” He watched as you took a breath. He put a gloved hand over your heart, he could feel it racing. “There was something about helping you, wielding that knife of yours. I want to do it again.” He felt his own heart race faster as you put your own hand over his.

“Then you will, kitten.” He slipped his hand gently away then rested both hands them on his desk. “Reach into my right pocket.”

You did. He could feel your fingers wrap around it and pull it out. You licked your lips, damn he could practically taste them.

“It’s your knife.” You said as you opened your hand to look at it.

“It’s one of my best ones, I want you to use one that I trust,” He smirked then catching your eye. “And to use one I know you already look good using.”

He took it from you. “This is the best way to open it, and to close it.” He handed it back to you. “You try.”

Damn, just watching you do that made a knot in his lower stomach. “Good.” He purred. Then he took it and slipped it into your right pocket. “Keep it there till you have to use it.” Stepping back, he looked at you. Fuck, I am a lucky. You were beautiful and sexy, it was a deadly combo. He offered a gloved hand and loved how you hopped down from his desk. Pulled you close, locking eyes with you.

“Tonight baby.”

“Tonight.”

@starwarsprequelfangirl @ewanfuckingmcgregor @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @darling-i-read-it @angel98624 @spn-obession @nebulastarr @darling-i-read-it (things are heating up!) @emyliabernstein @rosionis @johallzy

#roman sionis pov #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis fanfiction #roman sionis #ewan mcgregor #tease #part 5 #fanfiction #bop #birds of prey #black mask #black mask x reader #black mask x you #black mask x y/n

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tatselk · 5 years

Text

PSOH Passage Hen: Chapter 5 “Dissolution” (Pt 2)

This summary/ review has been divided into 2 parts because of how long the summary is.

My summaries/reviews of the previous chapters can be found here: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5: Pt 1].

As always, I’m not sure of the exact spelling of pretty much all the names.

SUMMARY

16. Catherine brought her bubbly self to see Sofu and Fantome Noir again. As they had tea, she talked about the Statue of Liberty and how her father, who was a frequent traveller, could always look at the Statue of Liberty on his return to New York and know that he was home. Catherine then went about trying to convince Fantome Noir to go traveling with her by saying that she could taste delicious food, wear beautiful clothes and maybe even meet some great men. Catherine added that Fantome Noir shouldn’t be brought down by her lover’s death and should go out there to experience a new romance. Sofu muttered as an aside, “Sigh~ This is why I hate Americans-”

17. Fantome Noir got Sofu to relate a message to Catherine for her, “Do you know what it means to fall in love?” Catherine said of course and began listing the “lovers” she has had in the past like her classmates. She even fangirled over Victor again and wondered what she should do if he proposed to her. But Fantome Noir interrupted her to say that that was romance, not love. Catherine was confused by this and said that her favourite was still her father who was dashing, kind, learned and gave her whatever she wanted. She had never met anyone better than him and wanted to marry someone who is even more outstanding than him. Sofu mentioned that it would be difficult to find someone like that. Catherine agreed and quickly broke down into tears saying that she wanted to see her father again as soon as possible.

18. We cut to the Paris Police Station, where we find that Hans had previously requested for help from the police in finding Catherine’s father. Hans was informed that a man who had Brandt’s passport and wallet was still alive and had been arrested by the police. However, he was probably not Brandt as he looked to be in his 80s or 90s; perhaps he was a beggar who had stolen the passport and wallet from Brandt. Hans asked to speak to the man who was arrested and was taken aback when he saw how bedraggled he was.

19. We return to Catherine who was crying and Fantome Noir who had reached out to touch her head. Fantome Noir opened her eyes gradually and said that she wanted to see Catherine’s father too. Even Sofu was surprised at this; he got all excited that a contract could be formed between Catherine and Fantome Noir. Catherine began happily planning the living arrangements for Fantome Noir and how once they found her father, all four of them could return to New York together.

20. This was interrupted by Victor popping up through a set of curtains to tell Sofu that Lena had asked for him at the front of the shop. Sofu, Victor and Hans went there and left Catherine and Fantome Noir to chat. We discover that Lena had found Dubois and brought him back. After sitting down to tea together, Sofu, Victor and Hans learnt that Dubois had met Brandt half a year ago. Hans asked Dubois if he had sold Fantome Noir to Brandt. Dubois mentioned that he mistook “Fantome Noir” for “Black Ghost”, which was an eel from South America (and which was going to be exhibited at the Paris Expo). The sale fell through and Dubois thought that Brandt had returned to New York.

21. At this point, Hans brought up what had happened at the Parisian Police Station last night. He could not get any answers out of the man who was arrested and he suspected that Brandt had already been attacked and killed by some rogues. Then they brought up how since Brandt wasn’t looking for the Black Ghost eel, the Fantome Noir that he was looking for might be a mermaid and went into discussing mermaid lore about how mermaids have very long lives, how eating their flesh can render one immortal, how “The Little Mermaid” was based on Fouque’s “Undine”, how mermaids had a lifespan of 300 years old etc.

22. Sofu poured cold water over the others’ romantic discussion of mermaids and mentioned that despite their appearances, mermaids were ferocious in nature and ate meat. Dubois brought up how the Black Ghost eel was the same and Victor freaked out because he had placed the eel with other fish when setting up the site exhibiting animals at the Paris Expo. So Dubois and Victor quickly ran off to rescue these fish from being eaten.

23. With only Sofu and Hans left in the front of the petshop, Sofu turned to Hans and said that he wished to meet the old man who was arrested. He added mysteriously, “Realising the customer’s wishes was the duty of the shop.” At the Parisian Police Station, Sofu and Hans found that the old man was extremely ill and probably only had a couple of days left to live. Sofu asked if they could take the man away; the police allowed them to do so as since the man’s identity was unknown, if he died, the best he could hope for was to be buried in the public cemetery anyway. On their ride back to the petshop, Sofu mentioned that he wanted Fantome Noir to verify the man’s identity.

24. After the three of them crossed the bridge and gotten to the palace, the old man suddenly seemed to recognise Hans. Catherine appeared and the old man managed to call out her name haltingly before being interrupted by a fit of coughing. Sofu gave the old man a cup of something to drink. After a few moments, the old man dropped the cup and looked as though he was choking badly before gradually turning into a young man.

25. Hans and Catherine reacted in shock because this seemed to be Brandt but one who was far younger than his actual age. Sofu mentioned that this was merely terminal lucidity. Brandt seemed to recognise Sofu and addressed him as Count D but Sofu stated that this was the first time that they have met. Sofu also addressed Brandt as Your Highness and asked him to hurry as the Princess was waiting for him.

26. Brandt threw open a set of curtains dramatically and knelt down before Fantome Noir. “Many apologies for the delay. I’ve come to take you away.” Hans and Catherine freaked out at this and Catherine asked if her father was a prince. Brandt laughed and began his explanation. On the night of his wedding, the maiden (presumably Fantome Noir) had disappeared from the ship. Before long, a storm appeared and Brandt was swept overbroad and dragged into the ocean by a few mermaids, who were Fantome Noir’s sisters.

27. Having dragged him into the ocean, these mermaids kept scolding Brandt for being ungrateful and breaking their sister’s heart etc. He declared that if he had known that she was the one who saved him, he would not have gotten engaged to a human girl whom he met later. The mermaids got Brandt to swallow a black pearl, which caused him to choke and feel hot. They told him that he now had the same lifespan as a mermaid; that he had to find their sister and marry her and that until that day came, they would not forgive humans.

28. When Brandt woke up again, he found that he had washed ashore onto a foreign land. He also discovered that he didn’t age. So he began traveling across Europe in search of Fantome Noir. Along the way, Brandt met a Count D whom Sofu said was probably his grandfather. This was about 100 years ago. This Count D suggested that Brandt go to USA; Brandt did so and began aging. As he crossed the sea, he kept hearing the mermaids asking him to hurry.

29. After Brandt discovered that Dubois didn’t manage to find Fantome Noir either, he became extremely dispirited. As Brandt walked along a bridge across the Seine River in Paris, he heard voices telling him to hurry and that time was running out. He toppled over the rails of the bridge and fell into the river. Brandt saw Fantome Noir in the river and called out to her. But he realised that she could not hear or see him. He also remembered that he was no longer young or handsome; thinking that she probably couldn’t recognise him even if she saw him, he rose to the surface of the river again. When Brandt was fished out of the river, 300 years’ worth of aging had hit him all at once. He could not move, he could not remember anything clearly, he could not even ascertain who he was.

30. Back in the present day, upon hearing his story, Hans and Catherine were extremely ashamed that they had failed to recognise Brandt. Fantome Noir then made the startling announcement that she wasn’t the one whom Brandt loved; she was his daughter. She explained that her mother should have turned into foam after jumping off Brandt’s ship but she was pregnant with her so she gave birth to her before dying. In other words, this Fantome Noir was Catherine’s elder sister and was in mourning for her mother. On hearing that he did not make it in time to see the original Fantome Noir, Brandt gradually grew older again, died and turned into foam.

31. After Brandt’s death, Catherine suddenly brought up the point of why Brandt got together with her own mother if he was so devoted to the original Fantome Noir after all these years. Hans then mentioned that both of them were actually orphans from the ghettos of New York whom Brandt took in. Brandt had wanted to adopt both of them but Hans, who was at an age whereby he understood things, insisted on acting as his servant to repay him for his kindness.

32. Later, it seemed that Sofu recounted everything that happened to Victor and Dubois who had returned to the petshop for tea. Victor noted that one of Sofu’s fingers were injured but Sofu said that it was nothing. Someone wondered about how long the lifespan of the half human/half mermaid Fantome Noir would be and Sofu said that his father and grandfather were still studying mermaids. Sofu also mentioned how mermaids could only give birth once in a lifetime as the baby would claw its way out of the mother’s body and use the body as a source of nutrients, which caused Victor and Dubois to throw up. The chapter ended with Lena asking about Catherine’s love life and Sofu hinting that it was right beside her but she didn’t realise it (I think he was referring to Hans).

THOUGHTS

1. Yay, the first “real” petshop transaction (sorta) in this series! AND it continues the theme of mermaids and A Tragic Love Story in PSOH! :)

2. If there is one thing that perfectly sums up the overall relationship between Sofu and Victor, it is probably my fav convo between them in this chapter.

Sofu: Welcome to Count D’s pet-

Victor: Hello!

Sofu: What? Oh, it is you, Baron. -_-‘’

Victor: Hey, hey, don’t be so cruel~~~ I thought we have a very good relationship?

Sofu: Don’t say such things that would cause a misunderstanding.

Victor: Ah, here’s a small gift for you. Today, it is Galette des Rois.

Sofu: Thank you for your care and concern! :)

3. Is Sofu even trying to run a business or exact revenge on humans by opening the shop so late??? He’s like worse than D was in SPSOH.

4. Given Sofu’s statement that he hated Americans, I’m now REALLY curious as to how/why the Ds went to USA.

5. Even though Catherine fangirled over Victor, it just feels like they could have been siblings. Haha.

#psoh #petshop of horrors #pet shop of horrors #psoh passage hen #petshop of horrors passage hen #pet shop of horrors passage hen #matsuri akino #akino matsuri #sofu d

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whynotcallitvanda · 6 years

Text

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Written from this prompt from @alternateuniversescarletvision

“ A snowstorm kills the power to Wanda’s apartment. Luckily, her upstairs neighbour still has electricity, and pauses his Christmas movies to let her use his blankets and make tea in his apartment while he wraps presents.”

Read on Ao3 here

Chapter 1. The Weather Outside is Frightful

Wanda had the entire top half of her body deep inside her closet when the power flickered the first time. She froze on her quest to dig out the shoeboxes she would’ve sworn were shoved back there. The floor of the closet was carpeted with laundry—both clean and dirty—tangled necklaces, scattered rings, and at least twelve pairs of shoes she’d yet to wear this year. The junk on the floor was the reason her feet were planted squarely outside the closet, and she was leaning over as far as she could, one hand anchored on the doorframe, digging around for the shoeboxes.

It was probably the worst position she could imagine—except showering—being in when the power goes off. She held her breath, waiting to see if it would stay on.

It flickered again, and then—

Darkness.

Wanda let out a screech of frustration that she was sure her new upstairs neighbor could hear perfectly clearly.

Heaving herself upright, she managed to keep from toppling over. The shoeboxes were a lost cause. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, trying to get adjusted to the sudden darkness. Her bedroom was as dark as she could make it, thanks to the heavy blackout curtains she’d hung to take care of the pesky streetlight directly outside her window. It used to keep her up at night. She didn’t need anything else impeding her sleep, that’s for sure.

Wanda would have given a lot for the full effect of the streetlight now, as she fumbled across her room. Usually navigating her own space in the dark wasn’t really a problem, but she was annoyed and impatient, not thinking clearly.

As she stumbled for the door, she made the rookie mistake of catching her foot on the strap of a bag that had literally been sitting in that same spot for months. She went tumbling to the ground, catching her hip on the corner of her dresser as she fell.

Pain exploded in her side, and she struggled to breathe.

Pietro!

The building collapsing around them, bricks, steel, plaster, and bone thundering down past their heads. Pietro’s grip on her arm so tight she can feel him making bruises. Moans that could be others trapped, could be the wind swirling through the rubble, could be coming from her own mouth, and the pressure on her chest, the weight of it all, trapping her on the floor.

Wanda muffled another scream, sucking in breath after breath. She pressed her hand into her hip, used the pain to ground herself in reality, in the moment, the moment where she was safe in a whole other country, and it was Christmas, and she was alone.

She pulled herself to her feet and hobbled to the kitchen where she’d left her phone. Her hip ached.

Consistent with her usual luck, her phone battery was less than 30%, which boded well for the rest of the outage.

She typed out a quick text to Pietro about the lack of electricity and waited impatiently for a reply. He didn’t need the update, but she wanted some kind of reassurance that he was all right. She got that way sometimes.

Thankfully, her twin was just as synced with her as usual, seemingly aware that she needed an immediate response. He answered after only a minute, expressing sympathy for her situation.

Wanda hated that he wasn’t there with her right now, but she understood that his schedule was crazy. He’d be here for Christmas Day, and that was all that mattered.

It wasn’t very long before she was freezing. She was wearing a hoodie she’d stolen from Pietro and a pair of yoga pants, her usual lounging around the apartment attire, but without the heat running it wasn’t much protection from the snowstorm raging outside. She had thicker clothes in her closet, but she really didn’t want to brave her bedroom just yet.

All of her blankets were out in her car. At the time she’d put them out there, she’d been proud of her forethought and preparation for the possibility of getting stranded out on the road.

She supposed she could run out to get them. From her window, the snow drift didn’t look that bad, and the parking deck was covered, so she’d just have to make it about a hundred feet from the door of the apartment building to the deck entrance. Plus, once she was there, she could crank the car and warm up for a bit before she had to come back inside.

It was as good a plan as any, and it didn’t involve continuing to do nothing up here until she froze to death.

Wanda yanked on her shoes before she could change her mind, grabbed her keys, and slipped into the hall. Thankfully, the apartment complex was equipped with emergency lighting, so she was able to see her way to the stairs, but it was just as cold, if not colder, in the hallway, staircase, and lobby.

Her resolve crumbled when she reached the lobby. The streetlights illuminated piles and piles of snow, stark against the night, drifts much higher than she'd thought from her bedroom. Someone had shoveled the walkway to the parking deck, but that had clearly been a while ago, as the snow was already at least ankle deep.

Wanda blew out a breath, hopping from one foot to the other, arms wrapped tightly around herself, reevaluating whether the blankets were worth braving the snow.

"Excuse me, miss?"

A man's voice coming from over her shoulder made her start, let out a small shriek, and spin around. He was tall, blonde, and pale, but her response to his words made him flush bright pink.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you." He was really handsome, something Wanda noticed as soon as her heartbeat slowed down a bit. His good looks and sexy British accent didn't do anything to help her embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it," she mumbled, running a hand through her wild hair. "Happens all the time."

"Ah." There was an awkward pause. The man rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets, and then blurted, a little too loudly, "Do you know what's wrong with the elevator? And the lights down here, as well?"

"Uh," Wanda cleared her throat. "The power's out? Has been for almost an hour now."

The man blinked at her. "Has it really? It's just fine in my place."

"What? Really?" That figured. Of course Wanda's would be the one with the problems. "What floor are you?"

"Fourth."

"I'm the third." Wanda sighed.

The man nodded sympathetically, and then moved to the mailboxes lining the wall on the right. Wanda didn't mean to, but she glanced at the mailbox he opened. Apartment 408. He was in the unit directly above hers. She felt her face heating again, wondering how many noises he'd heard from her since he moved in.

He turned around, mail in hand, and Wanda realized she was standing there staring at him. She quickly turned back towards the front door, but of course it was completely obvious that she'd been looking at him.

Through her peripheral vision she watched him pause at the door to the stairs and turn back around.

"I hope I'm not overstepping, but may I ask if you need any assistance?”

Wanda bit her lip, and spun around, arms still clenched across her chest to stave off the cold. "No, I'm fine." She almost left it at that, but something about the genuine concern in his eyes—surprising coming from a stranger—compelled her to add, "I left all my blankets in the car, so I'm trying to work up the will to run out and get them."

"Oh," the man's body was turned completely towards her now. "Your heat is out, I suppose?"

Wanda nodded.

"I have plenty of extra blankets, if you'd prefer borrowing some from me to facing the elements," he offered earnestly, but then added hastily, "Only if you want. There's no pressure at all, of course."

Wanda hesitated, thought about her car, way out through the snow, and about this handsome man, who didn’t seem like a rapist or murderer. Besides, he was just offering her blankets. It's not like she had to go in his apartment.

"I—Actually, I'd really appreciated that, if it's not too much trouble. My apartment is freezing."

"Of course! No trouble at all." The man smiled, and Wanda couldn't help but smile right back at him.

“I’m Wanda, by the way,” she said as she followed up to the stairs.

He appeared flustered, stuttering over his words, “Vis—Well, actually, it’s Victor, but most people call me Vision.”

Wanda wanted to ask where he acquired the nickname, but he already seemed embarrassed about how he introduced himself, so she simply smiled and said, “Nice to meet you, Vision.”

He smiled right back at her, ducking his head, and they climbed the stairs in comfortable silence.

#my fanfic #katie writes fanfic #alternate universe #alternateuniversescarletvision #prompt #Wanda Maximoff #Vision #Scarlet Vision

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