#i can appreciate a woman with a wicked sense of humor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wildbornsiren · 2 years

Text

Heat | Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace x F!Reader

Synopsis: Discussion of dinner during a heatwave.

One shot 1,136 words AFAB/Female reader

Warnings: Explicit MINORS DNI: oral sex (Female receiving) Notes: For @callsign-phoenix . Thank you to @lt-natrace for the beta Comments and reblogs are so appreciated. Likes are loved. Thank you so very much for reading. It means the most.

The old ceiling fan spins entirely too fast, moving around the stale hot air. All the windows are open in your apartment, the sliding glass door wide open in an attempt to get air flow through your home. You hear the front door open, close and the heavy thunk of a flight bag hitting the floor.

“Nat?” You call from your place on the couch, not having the energy to move.

“Hi baby,” She blows you a kiss as she heads to the bedroom, already working out of her flight suit. “Any news on the air conditioner repair?”

“Tomorrow.” You groan, placing an ice-cold water bottle to the back of your neck. “Did you get my text message about dinner?”

“Yeah,” She calls back. “Give me a second and we can talk about it.”

You lean back on the couch, catching a glimpse of your girlfriend shedding her uniform and getting into comfortable clothing. There’s a moment of pause, as it hits you again, that the beautiful woman came home to you every night. She joins you on the couch in a pair of faded cotton shorts and a tank top, and she absolutely takes your breath away in something so simple. Her hair is in a loose ponytail, the only jewelry being her dog tags and the rings on her fingers.

Her hand finds yours, bringing it to her lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand. “How was your day?” She scoots, her head resting on your shoulder.

“I was in meetings for most of it, and then I came home to find out the repair man didn’t come by.” Her thumb rubs over the back of your hand, the light touch sending sparks of electricity through you. “What about you?”

“Some simulated dog fights,” Nat says, “Bob and I gave them hell.”

You smile at the mention of her WSO. You had met Natasha’s back seater early on, and you were fond of the reserved man. He hid a wicked sense of humor behind mild-mannered smiles and a gentle disposition, and often found yourself talking with him when the group of you descended on the Hard Deck. “Of course you did.” You press a kiss to her forehead.

Her eyes flutter, and she grins playfully, moving to straddle your thighs. Your hands settle on her hips, holding her steady. Nat’s hands frame your face, tipping it up so she can kiss you. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you more.” You can’t help but grin when she kisses the tip of your nose. She laughs softly, breath puffing against your cheek. More kisses land on your face, along your jaw. A soft moan slides past your lips when those kisses land on your neck. You tip your head back, shivering at the gentle scrape of teeth over sensitive skin. Her hands sneak under your shirt, skimming up your sides.

“Not possible.” Natasha murmurs, her hands cupping your breasts, thumbs teasing lightly at your nipples. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” She lifts her head from your neck, her lips swollen from kisses. You squirm under her, the slow touch sending heat spiraling through you. “Take it off?” She nuzzles against your shoulder, her hair tickling your neck.

You twist out of your t-shirt, placing it on the couch next to you. Almost instantly she’s kissing along your collar bone, tongue tracing along the curve of your breast. Her hands slide around to your back, undoing your bra. Wet heat closes over your nipple as she sucks at pebbled flesh, her hand groping at your other breast. She nearly purrs when your back arches, your hand sliding into her hair pressing her closer.

“Nat, please.” You whimper softly. You needed more of her, another soft moan falling from your lips when her weight shifts, grinding against your thigh. “I need you.”

“I’ve got you, baby.” She murmurs, kissing between your breasts, teeth punching lightly when she nips at you. “Let me take care of you, please.” One of her hands has settled between your legs, rubbing at the warmth pooling between your legs. Delicate fingers slide under the waistband of your shorts, a wicked grin on her face when she finds that you aren’t wearing panties.

“What a good girl.” She coos. “You’re so soft and warm. I can’t help myself,” her fingers slide along your slit, teasing at your folds. She knows exactly how to get you moaning and panting for her, your legs parting more for her. Two fingers ease into you, thrusting slowly. “You do need me, don’t you?”

You nod, head tipping back as your girlfriend continues to stroke her fingers into you. “Always need you.” You bite your lower lip, whining softly when her fingers slip from you, and she moves to kneel in front of you.

“I know you’re worried about dinner.” Natasha murmurs as she kisses at your thigh, “But I’m not necessarily hungry for food right now.” You lift your hips enough to help her get your shorts down. She presses soft kisses along the inside of your thighs, “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” She smiles sweetly up at you, through her lashes. “Can I have a taste baby?”

You shiver at her words, your hand sliding into her hair, fingers scratching lightly at her scalp. “Yes,” you whisper, before she’s between your legs again. Natasha licks slowly, teasing before she’s kissing at your cunt, soft moans coming from her. The vibrations sent shivers down your spine, feeling yourself clench around her fingers, knowing that she was taking as much pleasure as she gives. Natasha is shameless as she licks and kisses at your core, fingers curling just right to make you see stars.

Her free hand is sliding over your hip, to the small of your back, encouraging you closer, to rock against her mouth. She sucks at your clit, fingers continuing to tease over the spot that makes you whine and moan. It doesn’t take you long to give in, letting the pleasure wash over you. Her mouth is tight against you, a third finger sliding in alongside the other two, the ache of stretched soothed as she continues to devour you.

“Natasha…” you whimper squirming against her. She presses closer with a low sound, tongue flicking against your clit. Your hand tightens in her hair when you come for her, intense tremors racking you, grinding yourself against her mouth and fingers wanting needing more of her.

“There’s my good girl,” She murmurs, kissing softly at your stomach, continuing up your body. She smiles against your lips before kissing you softly. “I’ll go get a bath going. We can cool off there.” Her wink and little grin let you know that it wouldn’t be cold for long. ------------ Tagging in: @callsign-phoenix @lt-natrace @shadeds-library @atthediscowithoutpanic @writercole @hoe-on-the-range @hederasgarden @revolution-starter @princessmisery666 @evansrogerskitten

#Lt. Natasha Phoenix Trace #Natasha 'Phoenix Trace/Reader #Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace/you #Natasha Phoenix Trace/reader #Natasha Phoenix Trace/you #reader imagine #Natasha Phoenix Trace smut #stuff my box

132 notes · View notes

omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts · 3 years

Text

A Siren Song

Pairing: Robert Dubois/ Bloodsport x Reader

A/N: so I just finished watching the new Suicide Squad for the second time and I’m even more obsessed now than I was the first time I watched it. It’s a brilliant film with actually good humor, a non-sexualizing and actually empowering view on Harley Quinn (that leg scene?? y'all-), the rats?? Rat-catcher 2?? THE SHARK?? FLAG?? Who looked really good in this movie, he might be another contender for a story as well as Harley Quinn so lmk ;) but Bloodsport immediately piqued my interest because it’s Idris Elba and he’s gorgeous, I loved the complexities of his character and I want to write for him and no one else has done it yet?? so shoutout to @honey-im-emotional for the support and push to do it! also love The Bodyguard movie, helped with the inspo <3 and i’m so sorry all of my stories are similar but I HAVE A TYPE enjoy and feedback is always appreciated loves and there will be SPOILERS so be warned, also if you want a Harley one next lmk ;) (it’s so long I’m so sorry lol)

Summary: You’re a highly targeted member of the royal family, the last in your line. Bloodsport is hired to be your bodyguard to both watch and assassinate the men after you. He believes it’s below his pay-grade, but reluctantly agrees, doing so to the best of his abilities. But the closeness brings more intimacy than you two expected, and sparks fly.

Warnings: foul language, sexual content, smut, choking, light bdsm, fluffy fluff, dirty dancing, dirty talk, violence and bad guys getting murdered, mentions of Harley x Reader (y’all sexy dance and kiss), reader likes women, dom! Bloodsport, age gap, alcohol consumption, jealousy, heavy kissing, slight angst, just a good time honestly

Word Count: 3,825

You dangle from the ceiling with your aerial silk, fitting your leg in the loop you’ve created, and dangling upside down. The rope wraps around your waist as you hang gracefully from your marble walls, flying. Your friend Harley Quinn taught you how to do this years ago, it now being your favorite form of exercise and relaxation when you need a moment to clear your head.

As you lightly spin, twirling and dancing in the air with your chandelier reflecting light everywhere, a dazzling fairy floating in a sea of stars. You hear footsteps approach and move to hang upside down, facing towards the grand door. Robert Dubois, a.k.a Bloodsport, walks forward to stand directly in front of you.

You have known him a few weeks or so now, him having to watch your every move and tracking down your family’s killers. He stands and meets your eyes as you dangle, hair falling below you.

“Hi,” you giggle, face flushed with heat. “I probably look ridiculous right now.”

He composes himself so he doesn’t crack a smile, but you see his lips twitch when he speaks, “No, Mrs. y/l/n.”

“I have a first name, you know,” you grin widely. “I’m younger than you, which hardly warrants such a professional title.”

“My apologies, y/n,” he fixes himself.

“It’s alright,” you ease, filling him with a sense of softness he hasn’t felt in a long time. You flip and land on your feet, letting go of your silks.

You don’t notice as his eyes glaze over your body in your sports bra and shorts, something his cold, calculated stare should never succumb to, but he does anyway and he kicks himself for doing it. You’re his client and should therefore remain as such, no conflict of interest or thoughts other than to protect. He didn’t want this job, hell, he still doesn’t know why he said yes. Maybe it was the money. Or maybe it was upon seeing you that first time, in that star-studded gown the night of a charity gala you were attending, the way the diamond littered fabric hung over your figure, absolutely dazzled. The way you looked at him and smiled, like you were used to with all the other nobles and adoring fans. But he let himself believe it was different.

He can’t do that anymore, however, because he can’t allow for any complications. And falling for his boss is certainly a complication.

You look at him and your eyes widen with realization, “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me cover up.”

You grab a tee shirt and toss it over your exercise clothes. He looks down as you do so and clears his throat. This brings a small smile to your face.

“You called me in here,” he gestures to the necklace charm hanging around your neck that you can squeeze and send an instant distress signal whenever you need it. “What can I do for you, y/n?”

“Wanted you to spot me,” you tease, a smile overtaking your delicate features. You have a sort of stunning beauty about you that takes him by surprise every time he lays eyes on you. Which is often. You lay on your yoga mat and sit up straight with that same damned smile.

“I’m here to do a job, y/n,” he says, his deep, honeyed voice coating the way he says your name like heat to sugar. “Not aid you in your workout routine.”

“What? Your assassin training didn’t include sit ups?” you smile, tongue in cheek.

“No, but if you need a way to kill a man with a book,” he presses a foot over both of yours as you begin to do sit ups. “Then I’m your man.”

“Yeah, you and John Wick,” you breathe out with a laugh. “And shouldn’t you be in here watching me already? Not by the door?”

“This room has no windows and no other door or entrance besides the one I was standing by. I thought you would want privacy,” he averts your gaze. “I’m sure it’s a hard thing to come by these days for a woman like yourself.”

You stop what you’re doing and look up at him, blinking, “Well, you’d be right,” you tuck your hair back. “So thank you.”

He meets your eyes, bordering on a smile, “You’re welcome.”

“Is that a smile I see?” you chuckle.

The smile shines, “It was a diversion. And you failed.”

You laugh loudly, “Will the next diversion be an actual laugh?”

“Wouldn’t be a proper diversion if you knew what it was.”

You tap his feet so he’ll get the hint and let you up. You rise to your feet and dust yourself up, “I appreciate your spotting.” You press a hand to his chest and hum. Warmth radiates from your palm and he inhales sharply. “For someone who wasn’t trained, you sure are a fast learner.”

He looks at your hand and back to your eyes, heat sprouting from where your hand touches. His hand flexes at his side as he looks around the room, to the door, seeing if it’s closed.

“I-” he cocks an eyebrow then settles. “I think I should go.”

He watches you look at him with wounded eyes, brow lowered, you open your mouth then close it.

You nod, moving away from him, “Right.”

You move to walk away when he stops you, mouth by your ear, voice dropping an octave when he whispers, “Just so you know-” you tilt your head up almost instinctively to hear him better. “-my assassin training did include reminding people who they are when they’ve forgotten their place.”

You look up at him fully now, “You work for me, remember?”

“I work for money. And you didn’t hire me. I was employed by Mrs. Waller to keep you alive,” he cocks his head slightly.

“So it would be frowned upon by her when you’re unable to walk if you touch me like that again.”

You couldn’t believe he had just said that. Your eyes widen and your cheeks once again heat up, blushing. Your chest gets hot when he doesn’t break the stare like he’s calling your bluff, and fuck, did he do just that. You turn away from him.

You can hear the smile in his voice, “That’s what I thought.”

~~~

“Robert said that!?” Harley exclaims, eyes wide. Her jaw is dropped as she does her mascara aggressively in the mirror. “He’s usually so...”

You tug down your tiny halter top over your head, your bright, flattering makeup complementing the colorful swirling pattern, “An empty void with no emotion?”

She nods emphatically, agreeing, “Exactly! I had no idea he had it in him?” she raises her brow and smooths down her leather black and red dress, “Or that he wanted to put it in you-”

You slap her arm, chastising, “You don’t know that. It might have been a threat to actually paralyze me in a very not sexual way.”

“I say both are arousing,” she shrugs, platinum curls bouncing.

You roll your eyes with a small smile aimed at the floor, “Anyway-” you slip a belt through your tight jeans, hitting at your waist when you cinch it in. “We should get going if we want to get to the club on time.”

She pauses. “Y/n. Are you sure we should be doing this?”

You do a double take, “You’re telling me that we shouldn’t sneak out and have a good time?”

“I know the irony is apparent,” she looks at you with a knowing stare. “But not if it means you’re in danger. Which you are.”

“I know,” you frown. “But I’ve been locked in this house for months, I miss going out and having a life. I’m tired of being coddled.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she sighs, looking past herself in the mirror to flash me a sympathetic smile. She thinks for a beat and finally spins around, “Alright, screw it, doll, let’s go paint the town.”

You buzz with excitement, grinning, “Yay! Thank you, thank you! I wonder who will be djaying...” you trail off.

Harley’s face falls and her mouth goes in a solid, straight line, looking past your shoulder, “I don’t think anyone will be.”

You laugh, completely oblivious, “Of course there will be. There has to be music. Dancing in silence would be pretty fucking awkward.”

“This moment is pretty fucking awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

A deep, irritated voice sounds off behind you, “Because you’re not going.”

You jump out of your skin, “Shit, Robert! You scared the hell out of me!”

“You’re not going to that club,” he folds his arms over his chest. You look over him and his casual, night wear: a loose tee and low hanging joggers. You almost wipe your mouth from salivating. Your outfit elicits the same reaction.

You pinch your eyebrows together, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I can. I’m tasked with protecting you.”

“Yeah. And nowhere on your job description does it say ‘become my parent’. There’s not an opening now just because I don’t have one. I am a grown ass woman and I have been a prisoner in my own home. The same home where...” you pause, a lump in your throat at the reminder of your family’s passing. You shake it off, “I’m just tired. I want a piece of my life back. You can either stay here or come. Either way I’m going.”

He gives you a quick once over and contemplates his options before dropping his arms to his sides and letting out a long exhale.

“Fine.”

You somewhat relax at his defeated tone, “Fine, what?”

He relents, “You can go, but I’m coming with you. But if anything happens to you, I’m not to be blamed. I will leave your ass in that club.”

You grin and jump up to give him a tight hug around the neck. He stiffens before slowly rubbing your back. You sink into his embrace, feeling like you were floating in water, now above the surface as he brings you back to oxygen. Harley smiles at the exchange and she winks theatrically.

He glares.

It’s not long before you three arrive at the club, music blaring and colorful lights flashing over the crowded floors. From his stare and intimidating aura, the club staff thought he was a bouncer and let you all in immediately. But before he was roped into working, the three of you bee-lined to the bar.

“The prettiest and strongest drink ya got, sugar,” Harley smiles at the pretty bartender.

“And what if that’s me?” she responds, ebony hair falling onto one shoulder.

“Then I’ll have to drink you later,” Harley gives her a flirty once over and you roll your eyes.

The bartender grins and gestures towards me for my order, I answer quickly, “Scotch on the rocks.”

Robert looks at you, poorly covering his shocked expression. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?” you look up at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a straight liquor type, Ms. y/l/n,” he finally lets his hidden laugh show through, butterflies erupting in your chest. The diversion definitely worked, whatever you were thinking about before this has immediately left you.

“Then this is going to be the first surprise of many tonight, Mr. Dubois,” you return the smug look as he orders the same thing. You both share a look.

The bartender slides you all your drinks, each of you taking a long swig for liquid courage for the night. Harley’s favorite Doja Cat song comes on and she gasps, clapping excitedly when she grabs you by the wrist, pulling you on the dance floor, “Come dance with me.”

You mouth a small ‘sorry’ to Bloodsport who you left at the bar, he shakes his head with a smile over the rim of his glass, watching you guys’ drinks.

She dances wildly, jumping up and down, spinning to let her hair fall in many beautiful angles. She’s a powerful force and your greatest friend. She puts her arms around your neck and the two of you move in time with the music.

“So...” she motions to Bloodsport who’s being forced into a conversation with a woman at the bar. The woman puts her hand on his and he visibly shrinks back and whispers something to her that causes the most horrid look from the woman and for her to walk quickly away. You smile at the relief that interaction has brought you.

“So what?” you spin her around and pull her back.

“Quit with the good dancing, or I’m gonna fuck you myself,” she teases with a lightheaded giggle.

You smile, “We’ve tried that already, remember?”

“Too much history, I know, I know. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice...” she whispers into your neck, kissing the soft spot under your chin. Your skin heats up under her touch as she drags her hands down your sides, pulling you close to her so that you’re flush against her chest.

You give into her and kiss her slowly, her soft lips melt into your own when her hands tug in your hair. Harley and you have always had a complicated friendship, with enough sexual attraction to fuel a nuclear bomb, but not enough romantic. You love each other but not in the way you both need. You were in love with Robert and she is continuing to explore her sexuality because she likes women and so do you. So as she trails her hot mouth down your neck in the middle of dozens of bustling bodies and you lock eyes with an angry Bloodsport, you knew exactly what she was doing.

You whisper, out of breath, “Are you trying the jealousy trick?”

“It worked in college, didn’t it?” she kisses your cheek, smiling gently against your skin. “And it’s working now.”

“I think you’re just obsessed with kissing me,” you kiss her back.

“It was a win-win situation, doll,” she grins devilishly and you can’t help but agree. “So when you’re done with him, come see me. But right now, I have a sexy bartender lady to drink up.” You grip her hand and let her make her way to her next conquest.

Robert had seen the tail-end of your kiss, his deft fingers clenched around his whiskey glass. He knows he shouldn’t let this sort of thing affect him, something as juvenile and simple as jealousy. But he couldn’t stop that feeling of being stuck, unable to think about anything except the fact that it wasn’t him with his hands on you like that, lips marking you as much as he pleases. Sadness washed over him in a tidal wave and he set his glass down, about to get up to leave when he spotted a man eyeing you from the door. He looked familiar and it wasn’t just attraction he sensed in his eyes but something far more sinister.

A few more men followed suit and began making their way to you in the middle of the dance floor. He had no time to consider the facts, just to get you out of there as soon as possible.

You feel a rough hand tug your arm and turn to face who you think to be Dubois, you smile, “Enjoy the show?”

“Very much,” an unknown voice answers, and you look up, eyes wide. “Now why don’t you come with me for a little talk, beautiful.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you yank your arm back, slamming your heel down into the perpetrator’s foot. More men surround you on all sides, making it impossible for you to escape or use your subpar martial arts skills. Aerial yoga was a very different ballpark than kicking ass. And you were just a beginner.

You poorly punch a man in the face, only making them all angrier when you’re grabbed from all sides, being dragged towards the exit kicking and screaming. You didn’t want to be that helpless damsel in distress, but as all of these men, men you recognized from your family’s death, were surrounding you, you couldn’t breathe. Their hands felt familiar, grabbing your arms like they’d done that night before you hid in the secret door in the dining room. You had watched these faceless men through a hole in that door, stifling your cries when bullets sprayed the room your family was having dinner in. So while they were coming after you and pulling you outside, it’s all you felt. That same feeling when he wasn’t near.

Drowning.

There’s a hand that pulls you back and you watch, dazed, as Bloodsport puts every man who touched you on the ground. It’s filled with swift yet aggressive and barbaric movements, controlled, expert chaos and it happens within moments. His chest is heaving when he looks down at you and scoops you up in his arms. You’d object in any other circumstances, but this time, head against his chest and tucked in his arms, you were okay.

His voice rumbles against your side, “We’re going home.”

~~~

Harley’s tears hit your shoulder as you sympathetically pat her back.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I shouldn’t have left,” she sniffles loudly. “I should’ve been there.”

You laugh softly, fitting your head into her shoulder, “It’s okay, Harls. It’s not your fault, there was no harm done.”

“There could have been,” she sighs. “I’m not letting you convince me to go out next time, you’re staying here forever.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, “Alright.”

She gets up and sniffs, wiping at her nose that’s now flushed from crying, “Good because I’m serious.”

“I know,” you laugh again, hugging yourself in a hoodie much too large for you, (because you stole it from Rick Flagg) swallowing you whole.

Your eyes wander down the hall to where Robert is no doubt pacing around in your bedroom, the only room not laden with cameras (ironically for privacy). You kick at the floor in your fuzzy socks and think of an excuse to go check on him, even though you’re probably the last person he wants to see right now. You, frankly, don’t care.

“I’m gonna go-”

“Check on Robert?” she finishes. “I know, honey. I was a psychiatrist, I’m not stupid.”

You crack a smile and grip her arm affectionately as you walk past her towards the bedroom. You don’t even take the risk of knocking for fear he’ll lock it and try your luck with just simply opening it. You see him, shirtless with a towel over his shoulder, a low hanging towel wrapped around his waist, while nursing his knuckles. He looks you over once you enter the room, trained eyes on you and the intimidation is definitely working already when he takes the damp towel on his shoulder and dabs the cuts on his skin.

He remains silent and you move to sit down on your bed, the awkward squeak filling the already high-tension atmosphere, thick enough to make your ears pop like you’re in an airplane too far up in the sky.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, drawing his eye.

He hums and steps into your bathroom, washing off his hands.

You frown at his lack of response, “Are you really going to pout this whole time? Because honestly, it’s beneath you, Robert.” You lean forward, watching as he walks out of the bathroom, still half naked, still silent.

The silence is beginning to slowly kill you, especially when he looks this good, water droplets running down his chiseled torso from a hot shower. You didn’t let your mind wander because if the reaction your body is giving from the image before you was any indication, you want him. He walks in the room once again, mouth in an amused yet firm line.

In actuality, he was ashamed of himself. Not so much of you. He would’ve left as that despair overcame him back in that bar. He would’ve left you there and abandoned his mission, leaving you to be hurt. If it hadn't been for those men, you could’ve been killed and it would be his fault. He alerted Waller of the attack, making up a lie about the two of you going for a walk at night and getting ambushed there rather than at a club. There’s a hit on each of those men being taken out as we speak as well as a search for their boss. Even though that still got him chewed out. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do to him if she found out the truth.

Robert walks slowly towards you, leaning against the bed frame, gesturing for you to continue. You watch him, distracted, as he wraps a bandage around his knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have kissed her to get a rise out of you, that was hurtful,” you exhale your words, quiet enough he wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t within a breath of one another. You hang your head, “And it was stupid to go out in the first place when I am in this much danger. I could’ve been killed, and you could have been hurt. I’m sorry.”

He represses a laugh at the idea of him getting hurt, when the two of you both know that would never happen. But as the silence from him grows thicker, the more you start to ramble.

“Okay, this silent treatment isn’t going to work for much longer. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to stop.”

He gives you a look that says ‘make me’. But you both know you couldn’t if you tried, and vice versa. He thinks of you as a siren, one of those alluring creatures in old sailor tales that lured unsuspecting men to their painful deaths. As if he has no control of the way he feels about you. Which in a way he does, but he knows better. He knows better than to fall under your enchanting song, but he can’t help but be pulled beneath the surface of the water.

Robert tenses when you move forward and the hoodie falls off one of your shoulders, revealing more of your chest, the smooth skin that lays there.

His chest tightens when you look up at him and sigh.

“But thank you for saving me,” you say, both because you think that’s what he wants to hear but also because you mean it, you wouldn’t be here at all if he didn’t come with you.

He licks his lips and nods his head in simple recognition. He appreciated the apology, truly he did, but a part of him enjoyed the way you continued to ramble on, so he remained silent. This was an old interrogation tactic he learned when he served, keeping quiet always got people talking. He looks down at you and leans to meet your face, hands on either side of you.

“I don’t know what else you wish for me to say,” you admit quietly, fiddling with your hands.

He didn’t know either but whatever you would say, he would listen.

“So I take it you’re not mad anymore?” you infer from his relaxed posture, heart beating out of your chest, fast enough that it catapults to your throat.

He tilts his head down so he’s an inch before your mouth, breath fanning over your face. when he tugs you up to your feet, hands gripping the sides of your waist when he pulls you close. Your heartbeats began to sync up, chest to chest.

“I’m fucking furious, sweetheart.”

You meet his eyes, looking up in that seductive stare of yours you never knew you were capable of until him, and close the distance, kissing him lightly. His arms falter by your side and it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate, losing his cool. It’s the most gentle thing he’s ever experienced, everything in his life being forced, hostile, and malicious, while your soft lips against his are anything but. You kiss him like he’s not the monster he thinks himself to be.

“Then let me make it up to you.”

“Fuck,” he grips your sides harder, palm moving to push you closer with his hand flat against the small of your back. “We shouldn’t.”

You search his face for uncertainty, but all you sense is a profound sense of clarity, in the both of you. “I know.”

“Will you regret this?”

You shake your head, hand against his cheek, “No.”

His dark eyes fall to your lips, pupils filling his dark brown irises, lust blown, “You’re so good, baby. You’re too good for me.”

Before you can tease him about the new nickname and object to that, his lips have crashed against your own. His hand slides up to cup the side of your face, drinking you in with his intoxicating kiss. You hum, content, against his feverish mouth and he opens it, vulnerable and on display. You feel his guard still up, tense and calculated, so you rest your hand against his chest. You press a kiss to his eyelid, his cheek, his nose, his chin, his jaw, his neck. He softens beneath you, groaning aloud as his hands tighten.

“You don’t need to be afraid with me,” you whisper to him, tender fingers trailing down his shirtless chest, hot skin against hot skin. It’s enough to make you sweat.

He exhales and captures your bottom lip with his own, holding your face in both of his hands. The kiss grows heated and rushed, like you’re running out of time, as if at any moment those men would come back and find you and take you away from him again. His tongue expertly works with your own, licking the pout of your bottom lip, and coaxing you open. He slides his hand down between your legs, dipping his finger to find the slick in the middle of your thighs. You moan into his mouth, his other hand at the back of your neck when he buries his face in your shoulder. He kisses you there, the crook where your neck meets your collarbone, that damned sensitive spot. You succumb to his touch. His beard tickles your skin and you gasp when he sucks hard, a bruise forming.

You breathe a laugh, “Everyone will see if you leave a mark,” you tug on his hair when you thread it through his coarse curls.

He falls under your spell and there’s something so ironically beautiful about this trained assassin with a heart of gold and the scars to show for it, being so open with you.

His hands, his entire life, have been forced to be instruments of death and violence. But as they slide down your figure, holding your face, and pulling you into him, they’re his greatest gift. He’s surprisingly tender with you.

But then he has enough and pushes you down on the bed, arms trapping you on both sides.

He responds bluntly, “I don’t care.”

You part your legs for him and he releases a shaky breath. He slowly unzips your sweatshirt and it falls off you just as you do the same and tug his towel down. Both of you are bare before the other as you take a moment to drink each other in. You were just as, if not more, beautiful than he imagined you to be.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly as his hand drapes down the line of your figure. He touches you how someone would handle a glass vase filled with flowers.

You take his face in both of your hands and kiss him, “So are you.”

“I don’t think you know what you do to me, baby.” His hand finds your breast and squeezes while he kisses your neck.

You moan when he uses his other hand to grip your neck, thumb against your pulse point, “If it’s anything like how I feel right now, then yes, I do.”

He lifts his head up to watch your face as he chokes you, softly so he doesn’t hurt you but hard enough to play with your breath. His thumb opens your mouth and your legs tremble.

“So I take it you’re into choking, my love?” You nod excitedly, unable to speak, and his grip tightens.

You let out a squeak and he releases, face etched with worry, kissing your neck where he touched you. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head and smile comfortingly, “No, baby, I’m okay. I’ll tap out if it’s too rough, I promise,” you tease.

His grumbling voice deepens, “Good... because, darling, right now all I want to do is bury my face in between those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

You inhale sharply when he opens your legs once again, looking up at you and you nod in consent.

“I need words, beautiful,” he smirks with his mouth just above your center.

“Yes, please,” you breathe out and he responds with a swift lick to your pussy. He looks up at you and when he catches your eye, it’s as if the sensation grows stronger and your head hits your pillow.

“I’ve barely even touched you,” he mumbles into you and you feel his smug smile in your thigh. His fingers dip into you as he flattens his tongue and crooks them towards himself, you grip your sheets.

“Don’t... flatter yourself,” you sigh out. “I-it’s just been awhile.”

He removes his mouth and fingers from you, “So anyone can make you feel like this?”

You enjoy the feeling you get when he looks at you like that, his eyes dark and dominant, so you play along and nod. “Yes, in fact, I’ve had better.”

He licks his lips and gets up from the bed. He opens his drawer and you sit up to look what he grabs: a belt. Your heart beats excitedly in your chest even though you know you shouldn’t be. He gets back on the bed and climbs over you.

Robert looks at you, “Hands.”

You extend them to him wordlessly, watching as he ties your wrists together and puts them over the bedpost so you’re trapped there, unable to move.

“Now,” he holds himself above you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re to stay tied up until I say so, anything like that again and they get tighter. Nod if you understand me.”

You nod emphatically. You had never seen this side of Robert before, so in control and not afraid to go too far, it was so unbelievably sexy.

The best part was he didn’t tie it tight enough, afraid of hurting you, so you could easily slip out your hands at any moment.

He kisses, painfully slow, down your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple. He swirls his tongue around the erect bud and you gasp, desperate to touch him. He looks up at you from you chest as he switches to the other, massaging the unattended one as he sucks, the pleasurable feeling overwhelming you. So much so you have to clench your thighs together, longing for some sort of relief for the tension building in your abdomen.

“Baby, please,” you whine, squirming beneath him.

He shuts you up with a bruising kiss while his hand slips down to enter you, two fingers in already. He pumps them in and out of you before sliding back down the expanses of your body and letting his mouth latch onto your clit. He sucks hard and you stifle a loud moan that would surely alert everyone in the home of your arousal. He holds you down against the bed with a palm flat against your stomach as you begin to lift your pelvis. His tongue enters you while his fingers take over, stimulating you with gentle rubs and flicks. But just before you feel that euphoric release, his actions cease and you’re left hot and flustered.

“Robert,” you look at him with a deep frown.

He grins, “Y/n...”

You blow hair out of your eyes, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He puts his lips near your ear, “Are you ready?” You nod as he pushes himself inside you and you bite back a moan into his shoulder.

You finally have enough, slip your hands out, and he pinches his brow, unable to hide his shock before you bring him down to press your lips against his. He melts into you, arms wrapped around you while he holds you close, filling you out in all the right places. He quickens his pace and you whine into his mouth, nails digging into his skin. You wrap your legs around his torso and he hits you so nicely. He was right, it’s the best you’ve ever had. He rises and looks at you, lips swollen and red from kissing, eyes clear and pupils large, and face flushed with heat. Your hair is in messy tendrils at all angles and you’ve never been more attractive.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises in your ear, placing kisses across your jaw. “Taking my cock so well.”

You whimper and his movements stiffen as he approaches release and so do you, walls tightening around him. He reaches down and rubs your clit with his expert fingers. You finish together, mouths open and hands all over each other’s bodies. It overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, it continues on, leaving you aching and wanting more.

He rubs his knuckles over your cheek, softly and adoringly he looks at you. You tuck yourself into his arms under the blankets. Everything you both have wanted for a long time, laying right in front of you.

“Still want to make me not walk?” you tease, looking up at him.

He kisses your eyelids and you giggle, “Fuck yes.”

Part 2?

#harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #rick flagg #bloodsport #bloodsport x reader #robert dubois x reader #robert dubois #idris elba #suicide squad #suicide squad 2 #dc #dc smut #dc fanfiction #fanfiction #smut

308 notes · View notes

missielynne · 2 years

Note

It kind of feels like the Bridgerton series is making the lead female characters too dully perfect and generic. In the books, Daphne is a down-to-earth tomboy without much allure and the whole point of her character is that guys perceive her as a buddy rather than an object of romantic desire, while on the show she's like a feminine ideal and declared the most coveted catch of the entire "ton" that season. And in the books Kate is awkward, can't dance, has real insecurities and irrational fears etc but on the show she's just like this flawless woman. Don't get me wrong, there are some things I actually like better about the show than the book series, but so far the way they're writing the main female characters is not one of them---I like my women characters to be more relatably, interestingly flawed!

I do too, honestly! If you put a character written like Daphne in front of me and give her a flawed best friend with a dry sense of humor and a lousy romantic life, I'm gonna pick the friend every time.

And I agree that while the show hasn't done *everything* wrong, and I knew there would be changes from book to screen, there are certain choices (like making Anthony look wicked to push Simon and Daphne forward in season one, and basically everything they've done with Marina's character) that show a lack of foresight for how the series will go in the long run (Like seriously, Marina and Phillip being present and talking with any Bridgerton at all in season two totally wrecks all the dramatic tension of Eloise's story. That's not to say that I don't appreciate not having to wait to stare at Phillip because I totally appreciate it.)

Book Kate is one of my favorite Bridgerton ladies and the fact that they're making her more flawless (and so I've heard) made her family wealthier just...misses the point and kind of makes the show feel more like Shonda and her writers' big fanfic of what the Bridgerton stories are, and while people who come into the show can work with that, those of us who know JQ's versions are being left behind.

#missielynne's awesome anon #bridgerton #bridgerton show criticism

20 notes · View notes

cupcakemolotov · 3 years

Text

When Blood Calls for Blood

Hmm. This was supposed to be a mafia story for the AU Season that @klaroline-event is putting on, and instead descended into the depths of blood magic and werewolves, and some horror. Your guess is as good as mine as how that happened. Anyway. Hopefully this still works for Crime week. People ARE murdered.

Here you go. You can read it on A03 if you prefer.

Warnings: Blood Magic, Werewolves, Necromancy, death, some gore but not a lot, discussion about sex but no actual smut in this.

The brandy in her glass was excellent, but she hadn’t expected anything else. Klaus had come a long way from the boy next door with skinned knees and paint smeared fingers. That it’d been nearly a decade since she’d seen him hadn’t changed nearly as much as she’d have liked. Same tumbled curls, same dimples, same charm that lingered like a second skin over the sharper, harder parts of his smile. But now, his thinness had filled out into lean strength and he’d grown into the shape of his nose, the curve of his jaw.

Caroline hadn’t expected to like the look of him as much as she did after all this time. Had hoped some distance would dull the want that had once lingered between them. She also hadn’t anticipated the way his gaze could still trace against her skin with the same intensity of a touch, but now with a new, markedly adult male appreciation that hinted at all sorts of fun things. Dangerous things, thoughts she’d pushed away much easier with the naivete of a teenager than she was finding herself able to do as a grown woman.

Klaus had never been easy to ignore.

“Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we?” She asked once he’d leaned a hip against the desk next to him when she’d chosen not to sit. She didn’t know this man as well as she once had and she wasn’t prepared to be that vulnerable. Not yet. “We both know what you sent Elijah to tell me you wanted. I want to know why you think I should go along with it.”

A hint of a smile curved his lips. There was a strange sort of affection in his gaze which surprised her, in this childhood home of his, this house of horrors that had birthed monsters. She wished Enzo was there, to tell them if there were ghosts. If the rotting bones of Mikael beneath their feet still suffered.

“I’ve missed your directness, love. Most people are too afraid of me to try it.” His lashes lowered for a heartbeat, and his voice deepened. “And far too terrified to offer such blatant disapproval.”

Caroline gave him an unconcerned look. “I agreed to this meeting because we were once friends. Not because I bought into the spiel that Elijah was selling. I walked away from this kind of life, and I had very good reasons to do so. You know that.”

A flash of something wolf-yellow glimmered faintly at the edges of his gaze, but she didn’t flinch. Klaus was dangerous. So very, very dangerous. Here, in Mystic Falls where they’d both spent their childhoods, it was almost possible to forget the lessons Chicago and New York had already learned. But Caroline had learned to deal with Klaus and his caustic mix of power and temper years earlier. A little of the wolf wasn’t enough to warn her off.

Though it did intrigue her. Before, his control had been something held together by tenterhooks, his rage palpable. She had wondered if he’d buried it deep in his bones, left it to fester in muscle and marrow, but that glimmer told her he’d made a different choice.

She was glad.

“Blood calls to blood, love.” There was something in his voice, a note that was sharp and apologetic both. “And you are Bill Forbes daughter.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose at the reminder. “I’m going to need more brandy if that's the angle you're taking. Thankfully, he only provided half my genetics, and none of my looks.”

The hard line of his shoulders eased, her words answering some unspoken question. “I know.”

Her expression sharpened. She did not like that he was able to read her so well. “If you’re not going to get to the point, I will leave.”

His laugh was soft, and unexpected. And it did nothing to lessen her mad. Reaching up, he briefly rubbed his neck and when his gaze returned to hers. The blue was gone, awash with gold and wolf. Inexplicably, her own tension gave, if just a little. She might no longer know the man, but she understood the wolf.

“Elijah says you are well informed of my ongoings.”

She rolled her eyes. “As if that’s hard. A werewolf with the bad taste to be born to a witch, and who the poor manners of eating other witches is not, exactly, an unknown creature in the local gossip. Mystic Falls does so love it’s little horrors. It’s not like it’s hard to figure out where you’re going or where you’ve been.”

His dimples creased his cheeks. “That’s true. And yet, here you are.”

The implied threat was said teasingly. Caroline deliberately took a sip of her brandy. “If your wolf had wanted me dead, it would have made the attempt that when I was thirteen and tossed you three pine trees to save Enzo. If the man had wanted me dead, Elijah would never have sworn a binding saying this meeting was done in truce.” Her smile was sharp. “At least not knowingly. My magic is not kind when it comes to broken vows, and he hates me.”

His gaze narrowed at the blunt reminder, but his voice held no hint of anger. Just a hunting triumph. “I found Rebekah.”

And everything snapped into place. Setting her glass down, she stared at him. “And Elijah couldn't have led with that?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t…” Caroline stared at him for a long moment before tossing back her drink and moving towards one of the chairs. Ten years. It’d been ten years, and she understood everything those words meant. “Fine. I’ll bite. What is going on?”

To her surprise, he chose the chair next to her. His gaze holding hers, he deliberately tipped his knee lightly against her own. “Rebekah is in New Orleans.”

Her brows furrowed and her words were honest as she tried to ignore the feel of him against her. That sparking challenge in his eyes. “But you looked there years ago.”

That slow, thoughtful smile curled on his face again and she wished she hadn’t finished the brandy. “You have been tracking me.”

Caroline sighed and for the first time, looked away. She did not want to speak of the need to know he was still alive, to trust that he’d find some kind of reason after the death of his step-father. The wolf could have easily poisoned the man with its hate as the man could have destroyed the wolf with its rage.

“My father… the things he did.” Her words died and she shrugged. “I miss her too.”

They were survivors, her and Klaus. Enzo and Rebekah, though they were missing. Witchborn and powerful, they were the last remnants of bloodlines and blood feuds that should have never existed. Klaus, with his wolf and his rage. Enzo, with his affinity for the dead and his wicked sense of humor. Rebekah, the living embodiment of her mother’s hopes and wishes, but without the same darkness. And she? She was her father’s daughter, for all the Liz Forbes had done her best to temper it.

“Then you’ll help me.”

And that blatant satisfaction, the roughness of his wolf in his voice warned her that he thought he had won. She let her gaze return Klaus’ face, and the force of temper clashed against his. She did not like being boxed in. He needed to remember that. “Will I? What I owed you was a blood debt and that was paid in full. What my family did to yours was terrible, but what Esther did to my mother was also terrible. There are no debts between us, not anymore.”

Enzo might argue that point, but her wiley best friend had been missing nearly as long as Rebekah.

“You’ll help me,” Klaus repeated, unbothered by her irritation. Her temper, the surge of power that came with it, had always bothered him as little as his wolf had unnerved her. “And in turn, I will help you.”

“And what,” Caroline drawled, “do I need your help with? I’m perfectly capable of burying bodies on my own these days.” She wiggled her manicured fingers. “I don’t even have to break a nail to do it.”

That flicker of affection again, tempered by determination. He reached for an envelope that sat on the edge of his desk and handed it to her. “I’d have helped you regardless, but this might make things more comfortable between us.”

She snorted even as she opened the envelope to pull out a single sheet. “Things have never been particularly comfortable between us at all.”

Caroline ignored the deeply satisfied noise he made and looked at the picture. Enzo’s face, battered, bruised, stared up at her and she went motionless at the tangle of anger and fear that swept through her. “How…”

She’d looked.

“It took finding Rebekah.” A bitterness in his voice she understood. “And once I did, I knew where to look. The scattered pieces of our past are not easy things, love.”

Mute with rage, she glanced back at him.

“When the Witch Council attempted to end the feud between our families, they were not prepared for the realities of what that would mean.” His teeth gleamed behind his lips. “They were ill prepared for our families' hate, I imagine our cooperation never occurred to them.”

Caroline snorted. They should have been prepared for all of it. Feuding witches were no small thing. Though in her more charitable moments, she allowed that some things just could not have been foreseen. Not the fallout from Ester’s affair, not Bill’s jealousy, not Mikael’s malice.

Rebekah should have been safe. They should have all been safe. None of them had been.

“They should have done better.”

His smile held teeth. “Yes.”

It had been her and Enzo, who had held Mikael with their magic while Klaus had shifted to wolf to rip his step-father apart. Enzo, who had commanded the dead man to dig his own grave in the study Mikael had been so fond of. Later, Klaus had opened a bottle of expensive bourbon and they had gotten drunk listening to the sound of a shovel moving dirt.

It had taken hours to repair the foundation with magic.

Mystic Fall was full of so many nightmares.

Her gaze returned to the picture in her hands. And something turned cold and brittle in her chest. “That is the symbol of St. Augustine.”

“Yes.”

She stood then and paced toward the window. When she spoke, her words trembled with magic. Behind her, the desk shuddered. She hadn’t been this close to losing her temper since the day she walked into her home to find it smelling of blood and her mother’s death. Had found what she had been meant to see.

“The Augustine Society belongs to the Witch Council.” Her fists clenched. “And have Enzo.”

She knew the Augustine Society. The horrors the Witch Council offered them. She knew, because her father had also belonged to that society before blood madness had taken him. And they had possibly the greatest necromancer of her generation, trapped.

Fingertips brushed lightly down the bare nap of her neck. The touch was possessive, careful. An old trick, to anchor her. It made it no less personal. “So it is.”

Caroline closed her eyes. She hadn’t heard him move. “What did my father do, that you cannot claim your sister?”

“It’s a blood bind. I cannot break it.”

“No,” she murmured, letting the soft touches of his fingertips focus her. “You wouldn’t be able too.”

“But you can.” His words were lethal in their softness, coaxing in their delivery. “You're more powerful.”

“Flattery,” she said. Then she sighed. “But you’re not wrong. Still, the witches of New Orleans will never allow me into their city.”

They’d never allow Liz Forbes' daughter in their heart of power. The thought brought a faint smile to her lips. So strange, for a city to fear her mother’s blood.

Strange, but not unwise.

“I didn’t plan on asking permission.”

She turned to face him then, letting the window at her spine hold her weight and studied his face. Such arrogance, but not unwarranted. A full coven might face the nightmare he gave shape too with his bones, but perhaps not. Klaus had cut quite a swath through the witch families in the US.

His mother’s perfect monster.

“A blood bind will not be easy to break, not after so many years since it was cast.” She considered what it meant, how far gone her father had been in his madness. “I will likely need a sacrifice, and that is a magic I have sworn not to use lightly.”

“You won’t fall to the same madness.” The assurance in his voice was so, so arrogant. “I will not allow it.”

Caroline gave a bark of laughter. “You cannot know that, cannot expect to dictate such a thing.”

“But I can,” he disagreed. “I’ve seen your magic, Caroline. I’ve witnessed the price of it, the horror of it, and justice of it. Esther’s death was not easy. I know what you are.”

“Ester deserved more,” she said. “But we work with what we have. And I am no longer, sixteen, Klaus. What anchored me as a teenager will not work for the adult.”

Then it’d had been enough to cling to his wolf. To bury her face and hands in the thick pelt of his fur while she rode out the drowning horror, the unrelenting ecstasy of her magic, to let the sensation of fur on skin be the distraction from the siren call of endless power. The blood she wore on her skin.

She’d always liked his wolf.

Blood magic was dangerous. And witches who practiced it always, always lost themselves. Caroline’s father had been no exception. She would likely not be either. Thankfully, she wasn’t just her father’s daughter.

“And what,” Klaus asked lightly, eyes deepening to the blue of the man, something as dark as the working of her magic coloring his voice. “Do you need?”

Her nails dug into her palms and she lifted her chin. “What are you offering?”

Klaus’ head lowered until his nose nearly brushed hers, his mouth tantalizing close to hers. “Anything you want.”

Her teeth sank briefly into her lip and she sighed. “We both know how my father chose to feed his need and how well that worked for him.”

Satisfaction and a want so blatant and greedy on his face, she struggled to suck in her next breath. “Steven knew what he was doing when he agreed to join your father’s bed. He was aware of the risks. So am I.”

Her voice shook only a little when she spoke. “Rebekah’s temper is no small thing, Klaus. If she wakes up to me fucking her brother, I don’t think she’s going to be pleased.”

His hand lifted to curve along her jaw, thumb brushing tantalizing across her lips. “Elijah can secure Bekah, once she is free.”

And Elijah would just love that. “So you are planning on telling him you found her.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “Both he and Kol will be needed for this. Even if only a mirage, we must show the world where our loyalties lie.”

Caroline winced. “They still haven’t forgiven you for not kiling me, then.”

When Elijah had appeared at her home to request her presence for this meeting, she’d almost hoped.

“As they are not strong enough to oppose me, their opinions of your magic do not matter.” His jaw tightened. “From either side of your family.”

“Klaus…” She caught his hand. “They are not wrong. Blood magic is an abomination, not counting what my mother left me with her death. Killing me would likely make the world a better place.”

His eyes flared with his wolf, and his words were near violent with intensity. “I disagree. Am I too, not an abomination? You protested quite viciously when my mother attempted to do just that.”

His voice sounded the same as it always had, when he spoke of her murdering his mother. Delighted satisfaction with a hint of growl.

Caroline rolled her lip tightly between her teeth. This was what her mother had never understood. What Esther had miscalculated. This tugging in her chest, as she thought about a world without Klaus. The way he dared her with his eyes and his worlds to repeat herself, to suggest he would allow the world to exist without her. The thing that had left her walking away from him, uncertain what lengths she could allow herself to go to preserve it.

The boy who had painted her flowers and the man who understood the depth of what she could become, what she feared.

But he’d found Rebekah. Enzo.

“You understand that if I agree to this, it won’t end with rescuing Rebekah and Enzo,” she said slowly. Likely wouldn’t end with her willing to walk away from him a second time, and the bloody future that promised. “I’m not that forgiving. If the Augustine Society was part of this, if they supported my father? Enzo will want them dead and so will I.”

“Oh, sweetheart, as if I’d object.” His mouth curved. “But why stop there? Not when we both know the Witch Council had to be involved.”

So much destruction. So much blood. Carefully, she reached up with her free hand and traced the shape of his mouth while he went carefully motionless. “It would be helpful, if the sacrifice had a tie to Bekah.”

His lips pursed against her fingers for a moment before he moved just enough to respond. “The Salvatore’s are in New Orleans.”

And that terrible anger, that thirst she’d managed to choke into behaving for ten years unfurled in her chest. “What a coincidence.”

And Klaus, whose monster knew her own, just smiled. “Isn’t it just?”

“How are you planning on explaining my presence in New Orleans?”

Mischief, sudden and startling, crossed his face. “The witches can hardly object to my bringing a date to Mardi Grais. The same as I have done for the past four years, in fact.”

Caroline blinked, and tried not to think about the twist of jealousy in her gut. “I am not pretending to be in a relationship with you.”

“Who said anything about pretending?” His eyes laughed at her but his words were serious. “Shouldn’t you take a man to dinner before post ritual sex?”

She glowered at him, just to be contrary. “No.”

He shrugged, unperturbed.“We’re still sharing a room.”

She choked on a sudden laugh, at how easy and playful he made this. As they weren’t courting madness and the wrath of the council as they freed their family. As if everything was just a matter of them going out and conquering their enemies with his teeth and their magic.

Simple, really.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Caroline questioned. “This… this will change everything.”

Klaus lowered his head, pressing his forehead to hers and smiled, dimples bracketing a smile made of sin and blood lust that struck her in her chest. The smile of a predator well satisfied.

“Yes, I think it will.”

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline fanfiction

35 notes · View notes

dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

Tokyo Love Story (Part 5) The Truth of Black Swan

The following Scene takes elements and themes from the novel scenes and game quests surrounding Akira and Kogure Sakurai and weaves them into the MCs journey in a way that is meaningful. This scene does not appear in the Novel or the Game.

Please Enjoy

You’re riding in the passenger side of Chance’s Audi R8, the city lights flashing across the pale makeup on your face. Caesar might have turned up his nose at the car, but you found it very stylish and unpretentious. It was a sports car you could drive to work. You stare out the window at the many people walking down the streets. Tokyo’s nightlife was just as vibrant as the daytime. Only, instead of being locked in the offices for work, people spilled into the streets to visit karaoke bars and eat street food. There were also plenty of couples holding hands and laughing. Girls in skirts and women in tight dresses walking with friends. Men in sports jackets and a few in suits and ties. The people your age were casual in t-shirts and jeans.

When you imagined going to the big city, it was something like this. Having lots of friends, going out on the town, enjoying food and walking under lights.

Chance’s phone vibrated. “Yes, she’s with me, we’re on our way to the safe spot, notify me of the all clear.”

His expression was grim and he spoke like a soldier reporting to his commander. You’d only seen him as a carefree guy but now he was acting as a member of the Devil Clan, a Yakuza organization. Looking up at this, you notice that he’s no less muscled than Caesar, but he was a bit more wiry and lithe.

“We’ll give it a couple of hours to let things calm down before taking you back.” He said, stuffing the phone in his pocket.

“Thanks,” you say. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Did Izanami really love Izanagi?” You rest your head against the window.

“That’s a matter of philosophical debate, even among White King Descendents. Her motives were selfish. She fooled him and lied to him. But when he betrayed her, no one can deny her emotional reaction had to be rooted in some genuine attachment.” He maneuvered the car as he spoke, keeping his eyes on the road. “The common consensus is, for dragons, love is never the goal. It’s a means to an end. Once that end is fulfilled, love fades or dies completely. If the object of the dragon’s love refuses to cooperate with the end goal, that love can quickly turn to hatred. Humans pursue love for the sake of it. But Dragons do not. The emotions are real, but they’re not the goal.”

“That seems manipulative.” You say.

“It can be. Keep in mind that Izanagi wasn’t exactly the best example of human love either. Bottom line, it’s not good for humans and dragons to fall in love. They both will end up hurt somehow. But it does happen.”

He keeps driving until the city spires flatten to more residential spaces. You pull into a small park with rolling terraformed hills and tiled roof shelters. Chance killed the lights on his car and opened the door, getting out with a briefcase. “We can hide out here for a while.”

At the center of the park is a large dark lake. The stars couldn’t be seen over the lights of the city and the moon was shrouded by dense clouds. He leads you by the hand through a pea gravel path. You could feel your cheeks grow warm. The idea of running away to hide from the world with a man was depicted in TV shows you watched and in magazines you read, but now it was happening to you.

“It’s going to rain tonight, so let's stay under the shelter until we get the all clear.” He said.

He settled you down on a bench and sat next to you. He was handsome, with his red hair in his ponytail and his green eyes in the dark. He took a deep breath and let it out. “Now comes the hard part.” He opened the briefcase and took out a thin yellow folder.

“Ruri Kazama wanted me to give this to you.”

You accept the folder and open it. Much to your shock, you immediately recognize the title. Black Swan Harbor Initiative!

“You’re from Siberia right?” He looks at you. Those eyes glittered like jewels.

“Where did you get this?” You ask, anxiously flipping through the pages. There were photos of Black Swan Bay, just as you remembered it. There were even photos of orphans that you remembered, ghosts of the past. Vera, Khorkina, Anton… you pause. A knife of pain piercing your heart.

Renata’s picture stared at you, smiling from the yellowing paper, her eyes sparkled too, even in black and white.

“Ruri Kazama had it. I don’t know what it all means or where he got it from.” He reaches over and flips the pages back to the beginning. “He wants you to understand your situation. The reason why Black Swan Harbor was created. Black Swan Bay was like a dragon graveyard. Even though Cassell holds a lot of ancient artifacts, Black Swan Bay had the actual specimens for direct study of the creatures. You were created there as part of a study on making perfect, super hybrids.”

“What?” You whisper.

“I’m only telling you what I read. None of this makes sense to me either. You’re an 18 year old girl from 20 years ago. I…” He shook his head. “It must have to do with your bloodline, that you can rest so long and retain your youth. Anyway, because you’re not perfect, you will eventually become a deadpool. You’re a ghost. There’s no changing this.”

He flipped over a page in the folder leading to Anton’s file. “This is from one of the research papers. The average lifespan of the Black Swan Bay children is 20 years before they lose their grip on humanity. This orphan was eliminated because he’d reached the end of his life.”

You stare blankly at the page. You remembered Dr. Herzog tested hybrid children thoroughly and then, around age 20, some were selected to go to school in Moscow. Back then, you had excitedly chatted with Z about how one year you might be selected. But instead of feeling excited for you, he led you to a lab. There, you saw Anton, who had been selected to go to the capital, sitting in a wheelchair. Despite his power to stop a bullet, he couldn’t stand.

Dr. Herzog was like your father. So your mind rejected his words when he said that going to Moscow was a lie. And when he shot and killed Anton, it was something your mind couldn’t fully process. This all happened 20 years ago but for you it was only a few weeks ago, and you realized you still couldn’t process it. It was like a missing puzzle piece, floating on the side table, waiting for its place in the picture. And now it snapped into place.

Anton wasn’t ever going to Moscow. None of you were. Khorkina, Vera, Renata… You were all going to die by euthanasia. As deadpool.

Chance reached over and massaged your shoulder silently. You closed your eyes. No wonder Ruri Kazama told you that you were a perishing flower. No wonder he sang that happiness was fleeting. Ruri Kazama knew that you were going to turn into Deadpool. That you were going to die.

“So I only have a year and a half left?” You ask after a moment.

“I’m afraid that’s the maximum. You might have even less. I’m sorry.” Chance says. He drops his hand in his lap.

You take a deep breath, absorbing this terrible blow in still silence. “Thank you for telling me. I will show this to Caesar.” You close the folder and sigh again. Your hands are pinching each other hard to stem your roiling emotions.

Chance marvels at your reaction. “You’re a really strong woman. A lot of people would scream and cry in denial at this news.”

“I’m strong because my friends are strong.” You look out over the water, expressionless. The reflection of the moon peeked from its cloudy veil. It rippled but when it stilled, you could see the shadow of the moon, shaped like a rabbit. You weren’t sure what you could do to stop this eventual demise. Caesar promised he wouldn’t let you die. No… it wasn’t a promise, he just wouldn’t let it happen.

“Hm.” He chuckled, elbowing you. “Do I still have a chance to get a star-heart ticket?” He was attempting to lighten the mood.

You allow yourself the distraction. “Maybe.” You smirk and swing your legs under the bench. The wind was starting to blow, bringing the smell of rain, pulling leaves and cherry blossoms down from the trees to land on the water and make little ripples. The gusts disturbed the glassy water. It wasn’t the time for cherry blossoms, but odd weather had caused them to bloom twice this year. “Let me ask you something to test you. Do you seek death?”

Chance gave it some thought. “It’s not a matter of seeking it. I know it's coming. I just try not to think about the future. Live my life one day at a time, appreciate every moment.”

You nod and your eyebrows lift. It was a good answer. “I’ll ask you something else. Given the circumstances, if you knew you had to give up your life so I could live, would you do it?”

He laughed. “In a heartbeat!”

You turn to him and frown.

“What? Don't tell me you don’t like that answer. What do you expect me to say? It’s an honor for a man to give up his life for a lovely woman.” The stiff breeze had teased some hair out of your comb. He brushes your hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear. The wind stirs the flowers in your hair while he watched you.

You shake your head. “Well, in that case, you’re not getting a star heart ticket.” You cross your arms and look away

“Oh come on, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” He leaned forward, trying to catch your gaze when you turned away from him. “What am I supposed to do? Just let you die? Look at you! You’re beautiful and smart and … and… you’re so strong!” Chance was shaking his head in confusion. “If that’s not the right thing to do, please tell me the answer.”

You turn to him again, your eyes blazing. “And you’re not beautiful and resourceful and strong? Why is my life, somehow, worth more than yours?”

Chance’s good humor suddenly fades and he lowers his eyes, damping his mood like a lantern lowering its wick. He turned back to face the lake, looking down on the ground, but his mind was somewhere far away. When he speaks again, it’s with a lump in his throat. He swallows hard. “You have people. I don’t have anyone any more.”

You knew that look. You had that look. It was the look of someone who had nothing else to lose, so why not give up his life for you? You reach out and put your hand over his and look him in the eye, even as the fires of grief ignite in your chest.

“The Hydra came for my family last week. We all lived in the same apartment block, but we’d never done anything. We were just an extended family buying out condos and dealing in real estate. But they were merciless. All my brothers and their wives were killed and f…” His voice caught and his eyes sparkled with tears. “My five nieces and nephews were taken prisoner.”

“Prisoner?”

“Yes!” His voice turned hoarse in distress. “Back in World War II, Hydra had these black prisons to lock up unstable hybrids. When the government found out about them, they ordered them closed. But twenty years ago, they started operating them again. If you resist and fight, they kill you. If you give yourself up… they lock you away in those prisons forever. I had been working when the raid happened. When I turned the corner on my way home, the whole apartment block was on fire! There was nothing I could do, so I ran away. That’s how I ended up at Club Takamagahara. That’s where Ruri Kazama found me.”

He turns back to you, his green eyes as dark as an endless forest. “It’s either death or prison and then death for me. So if I can make my death mean you get to go free and shine under the sun like you did tonight… I will absolutely take that.”

Your heartaches in sympathy. You scoot closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder and he wraps his strong arm around you and holds you close. “You’re not going to accept my next words, Chance. Because I didn’t want to accept them either. But I will say them because they’re the truth. Chance… you have to live.”

He let out a single bitter laugh, but he turned away and blinked away tears. “Didn’t you listen? Life isn’t in the cards.”

“You think it isn’t. I didn’t think so either.” You reach up and turn his face back to you. The tears wet your fingertips and sink into our nails. You’re willing him to listen but you understand that it might just be too difficult to accept. “But… you will be shocked at how long you can live if you really try.”

“What? Really try? Are you saying my whole family didn’t try hard enough?” His voice breaks with grief and anger.

“That’s not what I’m saying. If death comes then it does, but what I’m saying is, you shouldn't just… give up your life. Not for me. Not for anyone. Make death fight you for it.” You whisper. Your throat hurts. Your eyes burned..

“And then if I don't give up my life for you… what will happen to you?” Tears were slipping down his face and he trembled against you.

“I will fight too.” You reach out and twine your fingers in his hair. “We will both fight death.” You look up at him, determination filling your dark eyes, defying reality. You knew he probably thought you were a fool, that you were just fantasizing that you could both fight the fate you were given, hit the ball out of the park, and live happily ever after. “What’s the point of love if you both don’t make it out? If Izanami taught me anything, it’s better to end up in the Yomi-No-Kuni together.”

He sighed softly and he leaned forward until your noses touched, your faces wrapped in night shadow. “You already gave me permission.” He whispered.

“I know…” You rise up to meet him halfway. This kiss was nothing like Z’s. Z took you like something that belonged to him. In this case, your kiss was a gift, a bow to tie your words in an oath upon his heart.

Chance was overcome. He rested his head against your neck, crying. He held you so tightly your ribs resisted against his arms to breathe. You held him like that until his sobs subsided. But you were in no hurry to part, instead you leaned against each other, watching the wind play against the water until your emotions calmed. Every few minutes, he would sigh deeply and kiss your cheek.

In the distance, thunder rolled. Chance’s phone buzzed. He reached down and looked down at it. “That's all clear. Let’s go.” He gave you one more kiss. “Here, you keep this.” He tucked the folder into your dress. “Thank you. I..” He paused for a moment and then just stood up.

He doesn’t remove his hand from yours as you make your way back to the car, but as you’re turning the corner on the path to the parking lot, he yanks you back! “Damn it!” He hisses.

The car was surrounded by men in black trench coats armed with swords and powerful guns. The way out of the park was blocked by a huge van. The park was so small, it would only take a minute to penetrate the entire space and there was nowhere to hide. Chance urgently whispers. “Quick! Let’s go to the other side!”

How could they have found you? Kaguya?

There was no way to hurry and stay silent. The pea gravel made too much noise. If you stepped off the path the surrounding vegetation rustled against your clothing. You can only use your method of stepping in his foot prints to hide your own sound and it was hard in your ornate gown. Your heart was screaming with adrenaline as you started to hear voices behind you. In the back of the park, behind the trees and fountains, there was a high eight foot stone wall that enclosed it from the rest of the neighborhood. You hurry to it.

“I’ll lift you over the wall!” He said. “If you jump, you can make it over!”

“No, I’m not leaving you. We need to find a way out together.” You say, planting your feet.

“You’re serious? There’s no way! We can’t fight all those guys!” He hissed.

More voices are coming. You must have been heard! Bright beaming flashlights are sweeping the park. The men from Hydra are bounding up the hill behind you! The group fanned out. One member was sweeping up against the wall you were next to and heading straight for you. More voices are coming from the opposite direction up the path ahead of you. Apparently, the Hydra following you had alerted more men on the other side of the park who were coming around the other side to encircle you and cut off your escape.

Chance pulled you along the wall and together you crawled carefully against it, staying away from the ones approaching from behind and getting to the other side of this dragnet. As you came close to those approaching from the front, you noticed that there was no one sweeping the wall! If you could sneak past through this gap, you could make it past them!

You hurry through the gap and crouch still. The Hydra were only a few feet from you. You could see the shine of their leather shoes and hear them talking, but you couldn’t understand their Japanese. One of them laughed. All they had to do was sweep their flashlights to their right to find you. You both hold your breath even though you felt breathless from running and staying low to the ground. You tremble there until their shoes turn away. Their footsteps finally started to fade, but you couldn’t wait for them to fade completely.

“There’s a backgate this way.” Chance whispered as quietly as he could.

You could see it. It was covered in vines and looked like a maintenance entrance. It didn’t look locked but even if it was, it was less than four feet high and you can both make it over. Your heart beams with hope. He returns your smile. You couldn’t wait to tell Caesar. He was right. His justice was right. You don't have to leave friends behind.

A sudden sharp hiss and a burst of wind rushes by your head! A silver projectile blade cut through the air and embedded itself into Chance's calf! Chance gasped and howled in agony! He fell to the ground, clutching his leg. You scurry towards the gate and dive behind a statue of a praying Buddha.

Chance is writhing on the ground, and moving away from something looming in the dark. Someone is approaching him as he scoots frantically away, begging. “No… No! No! Please!”

Out of the shadows steps a young dark haired man. His silver-blue long sword glowed in the dark like a shattered piece of moonlight. His trenchcoat caught the air and it waved like the hem of the Grim Reaper’s cloak. He stood over Chance like a towering god, gazing at him with frigid black eyes.

Chisei Gen!

#Dragon Raja

10 notes · View notes

crystalgirl259 · 3 years

Text

The Flame and the Dragon Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Don’t Fall In Love

Bansha's teeth chattered loudly as she followed Morro down the alleyways, starting to regret her life choices. Now Banshaa would never question Morro, but he could tell he had completely lost his senses. Morro kept telling her that he needed Kai for his plan to work. He may be strange, but he was the best. But the man they were going to see was a child-broker, and he absolutely terrified her. A tremor of fear, not cold, rushed through her very being.

Her heart skipped beats radically each time she gazed at the all too familiar alleyway.

Morro kept insisting that he will have Kai as his husband and if he must take drastic measures to make him see sense, he shall. Bansha tried to speak up, but she flinched when Morro turned around and glared at her. Harsh green eyes burned with determination and desire. Bansha bit her lip to keep from speaking and kept her head down. She refused to look up when an all too familiar building came into view. The building where the Child Broker did his business, safe from the law, safe from anyone who would dare tell him otherwise.

She struggled to keep up with Morro's pace.

The Duke stormed up the steps and bounded on the door harshly, screaming demands to be let in from the heavy snow. A call that the door was unlocked was all he needed. Hastily, Morro turned the lock and grabbed Bansha, dragging the reluctant woman inside, out of the cold. The two of them stripped their soaked cloaks and took their seats in the two plush armchairs. Morro shook his dark hair, scattering the water from the melted snow everywhere.

Bansha took her seat and meekly kept her hands folded in her lap.

After an abnormally short wait, a tall man stormed into the room. He shed his own coat and hat and hung them on a nearby coat hanger, revealing a short mop of silvery-gray hair. His brownish amber orbs shone with annoyance, but with the pale laughter of a child. Banshaa shivered and kept her eyes focused on her lap. Morro sat up straight as the man took a seat behind the desk and sat with his hands folded in front of him.

"Good evening, Master Noble; thank you so much for coming out at such an hour to see us." He flashed a bright smile and spoke in a voice of fake appreciation. Master Noble's face remained neutral.

"Please don't try playing me, Morro; I don't appreciate being forced to leave my orphanage in the middle of the night." He groaned with annoyance. Expecting this, Morro removed a small sack from his pocket and dropped it in front of the man. Gold coins and jewels spilled from the opening. His eyes scrutinized the contents then returned to the duchess. "Alright, I'm listening."

"I can tell you're a man of simplicity, so I'll just get straight to the point, you're familiar with the Smith family correct? I believe your services were required after the unfortunate death of Ray and Maya?"

"My services were not required at all, both Kai and Nya were beyond legal age and were able to take care of Lloyd," He groaned, at the statement of the obvious.

"Well you see, Kai is far too selfless, God Bless him, he refuses to see that his siblings are holding him back from his potential, his future, and when I offer him his heart's desire, he refuses me."

"Oh really?" He cut the duke off and drew out the word in a mocking manner. "I heard of your arranged ordeal, are you sure it wasn't your decision to arrange an entire wedding on his front yard mere moments before you all but demanded he marries you?"

"It's his fault! If he wasn't so naïve, I wouldn't be forced to take such drastic measures!" Morro screeched as he jumped to his feet; enraged that he would speak so frivolously of his humiliation. Quickly, he composed himself and returned to his seat, clearing his throat.

"Not that this isn't humorous, Morro, but I fail to see what your failed courtship with Kai has to do with me," He joked playfully. Morro's fist clenched but he reigned in his composure.

"I want Kai as my husband, but so long as he believes his siblings are in need of his help, he won't leave them." He smirked. "You're aware of young Lloyd's health condition, correct? His chest problem? I heard his last attack caused his heart to nearly stop, such a sick child needs proper care, not to be a burden to his siblings who have no knowledge of medicine, don't you agree?"

"Lloyd is far from a child, under-aged, perhaps, but he's what thirteen? He'll reach manhood in less than three, four years, and both Nya and Kai know the remedy to soothe him, from what I've been told." Noble explained. "It would be a waste to put Lloyd in child care."

"Perhaps, but everyone knows Kai would do anything to protect his little family." He growled. "Even perhaps, make a deal to keep his younger brother from being taken away from Nya, if Nya was rendered unfit to care for him?" He asked as a sinister smirk crossed the duke's face. Banshaa's face contorted with horror as her eyes flew to her master. A shiver racked her entire body she gazed at the menacing smirk of victory on Morro's smug face.

"Perhaps, but then again there is also the problem," Noble replied, twirling a gold coin beneath his fingers. "From what I've been told, Nya and Kai have done a stand-up job raising Lloyd and makes more than enough to support each other; I doubt there is anything I could say or do that would convince the town taking Lloyd away from them would be in their best interests, and I do care for my reputation."

"Nya is unfit!" Morro shouted as he rose to his feet again. "Kai has been missing for almost two and a half months with no word of him, and not a week after they supposedly left for a trip, did she and Lloyd come screaming and pounding on my door in the middle of the night, ranting and raving about how their brother had been kidnapped by a dragon? A dragon, of all the ludicrous things!"

"What?" Noble frowned.

"It's been well over two months and all they have done is go back and forth in those woods and repeat this tale to anyone who would listen to them! Ask anyone! I thought they were only joking at first, which is why I waited so long to come to you, but now I'm convinced Nya has lost her sanity and she's spreading it to her brother!" He bellowed. Noble rose a brow at this new information.

"Really now? A dragon? Are you sure about this? I have heard rumors of people becoming lost in those woods, perhaps what they found was the old monarch's castle." He replied curiosity. "Of course, the monarch hasn't ruled nor had a regent in almost a hundred years so it must be abandoned by now."

"It matters not, the point is, if Nya is insane, she can't raise Lloyd correct?!" Morro snapped, slamming his fist against the table while Noble's face remained neutral.

"I suppose, but before I make any final judgments, I'd have to see for myself; are Nya and Lloyd at home this evening?"

"No," Banshaa said softly. Her body shaking and her eyes focused on the ground, knowing if she looked at him her voice would break. "We stopped by this evening to see, but their shop was closed, it looked liked it hadn't been opened in weeks, and there was only a sign on the door saying they would be going into another town to seek help, it did not say when they would be back."

"You see? Now she's taking Lloyd on a wild goose chase when she should be searching the woods for my fiancé!" Morro continued. Realizing that he was still standing, Morro cleared his throat and sat back down as a king on a throne. "Now do you understand my proposal?" He asked as a wicked satisfaction shined in his dark green eyes and his lips curled into a smirk.

"So Morro, if I understand you correctly, you wish for me to declare that Nya is an unfit guardian and threaten to have her arrested and Lloyd confined to foster care until he is deemed fit to live on his own unless Kai agrees to marry you?" Noble asked, then pinched the bridge between his nose.

"That is precisely what I mean," Morro smirked evilly. Noble threaded his fingers through his silver strands, his elbows braced on the table, and his face a mask of discomfort.

"Oh Lord in heaven, that's despicable, truly repulsive," He replied as his face vanished behind a curtain of hair until a low, maniacal chuckle escaped him. His face emerged shocking both Morro and Banshaa. It was the face of a mad man. "I love it!"...

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

The next few weeks passed by in a blur of bliss for Kai. Winter had settled in nicely over the whole valley. Snow filled the world, deeper and deeper. The trees and gutters of the castle towers glittered with icicles. Windows glistened with frost, and the ponds and streams had frozen in sheets of ice. With the approaching frost, the house was busier than ever. Shade kept the staff busy gathering enough food for the winter months and enough coal and wood to keep the castle warm and alive.

Things had been going so great between Kai and Cole that the brunette thought he should get him a present.

The only problem was that Cole hadn't really shared his own interest with the teen, and that made Kai feel horrible. Cole knew what Kai loved most in the world were his books and all those stories. That was why the Dragon Lord had given him the library. That was what Kai chose in the end. He was going to give Cole a story. But not just any story, one written and illustrated by Kai. Kai hoped this would open more doors for him and he hoped that if he got to know Cole, they would find more things to say.

Kai vowed that one day he would reach him, there has to be some way.

He might have been a loner back in the town, but even Kai knew that everyone needed someone there for them, so Cole must need someone as well. If Kai got to know him better, he knew exactly what he would do He would read him stories from picture books, all filled with wonder. Magic worlds where the impossible becomes the everyday. They would find a mountaintop and some moonbeams to sit under, and Kai would lead because he knew the way there.

There was so much to discover, but Kai did it all the time. He could live inside bright pages, where the words all rhyme.

They would slay the dragons that still followed Cole around, and the prince would almost certainly smile as his dreams left the ground. He would read him stories about mermaids, kings, and sunken treasures. Kai knew a place, just a dot, too small to measure, and Kai will take him there because he knew the road. He would tell him stories about heroes who overcame their deepest despair, and hope that they put hope into his heart again and that Cole will cherish it every day.

Cole could find a better world and the strength to face tomorrow.

Kai was sure that if Cole knew the road, he would want to stay. Kai really hoped Cole liked his little gift. After he had sneaked into Cole's room and placed the nicely wrapped present on his bedside table, he left to go and find something to do. As amazing as this castle was, there wasn't that much to do when you're confined inside for the rest of your life. That was why he jumped at the invite Jay, Echo, Nelson, and Ronin gave him. They were all going to this frozen lake somewhere in the forest to do some skating.

Since they had all been working so hard, they thought everyone would enjoy some time outside.

Kai was a little worried about leaving the castle grounds, especially when he gave Cole his word, but they promised him it would be fine. They would only be gone for two hours at the top and Cole spent most of his time looking up in the towers or his room so he wouldn't even know they had gone. That managed to convince Kai, so he grabbed his winter clothes, some spear skates and followed the group to the lake. They rode their on Flame to get there faster. Eventually, they reached the falls, and Kai had to admit that the view was worth the hike.

Three separate streams of water were frozen in incredible, twisting pillars up the side of a cliff that was taller than the castle.

The basin at their bases was equally impressive, the water frozen in curling waves. All of the ice was a beautiful, glittering white that shone even with the sun hiding behind clouds. As soon as they reached the lake, they all got their skates on and started having fun.

"Eat my snow, Ronin," Jay laughed skating backward past him.

"Is that a challenge!" The competitive man grunted and kicked across the ice to gain extra speed. Echo flopped onto his stomach while Nelson did a large figure eight then did a few spins in the air. Kai leaped over Echo and swirled in a half-circle, then bent over to help him up. Across the lake, Ronin and Jay continued their race and from the childish teasing and roars of frustration, Jay was winning.

"Hey you two, are you going to do that all day?" Kai asked, using his hands to amplify his voice. The two boys turned to face him then crashed into the snow. The three remaining skaters burst out laughing; their fallen companions crawled out of the snow and shook their heads. Ronin removed his earmuffs and shook the snow-free from his hair. Jay just laughed like a kid in a candy store. None of them noticed the smirking eyes watching them through the darkness of the woods...

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

Cole sighed in frustration as he listened to the clock ticking loudly. He had wanted to do something nice for Kai, so he got all dressed up and ordered Shade to make them the nicest, most spicy, romantic dinner he could. He knew Kai loved spicy foods and books. Hopefully, with this and the library, he and Kai could grow closer and closer together. Sure, they seemed pretty solid now, but it was better to be safe than sorry and strengthen their bond while he could.

After he was dressed and the food was ready, Cole sent Zane to look for the brunette, but that was almost an hour ago.

The castle and the surrounding grounds might be very big, but it shouldn't be hard to find the only human in the entire castle. He sighed again as the clock kept ticking, growing more and more impatient as the seconds ticked by. He didn't know why he was being kept waiting.

"ZANE!" He bellowed so loud it shook the entire castle. Within seconds, the white yeti burst into the room with a silver trolly with a whole tea set on it

"Alright, sir, hold on." Zane smiled as naturally as he could. "Such a brisk day, you look positively chilled to the bone!"

"Where's Kai?" Cole demanded, keeping his gaze out the window, not seeing Zane gulp nervously.

"How about a nice pot of tea, sir?" He suggested as he began to pour the warm liquid into a nice China cup. Cole said nothing as he took the tea and drink it all in one big gulp, shocking his servant for a second.

"A bit more tea, sir? Good for the heart, you know."

"No, thank you." Cole declined politely.

"Just a spot?" Zane pushed.

"No more."

"But there's always room for tea."

"I said no more!" Cole shouted as he whipped around to glare at Zane, now seeing how uncomfortable and nervous he looked. "Zane, are you trying to distract me?"

"No, sir." Zane denied and an awkward silence filled the room as Cole seemed to stare directly into his soul. "Are you sure you don't want more tea?"

"Enough! Where's Kai!?" He shouted and Zane sighed in defeat, knowing that he could never hide anything from the dragon hybrid.

"We can't find him, sir."

"What?!" Cole exclaimed, not wanting to believe it, but he knew Zane would almost never lie to him. "Leave me!" He ordered and Zane quickly fled the room. As soon as the yeti was gone, Cole grabbed the magic mirror. The mirror appeared as an ordinary mirror, silver in color, with intricate rose and vine decorations. An ornate lion-like creature encapsulated the handle of the mirror with its mouth. On the back of the mirror, there was a symbol that somewhat resembled a fleur-de-lis.

This magical mirror allowed its users to see anything he or she wished to see on its glass and in its current situation.

Ashamed of his monstrous form, Cole concealed himself inside his castle, with this magic mirror as his only window to the outside world.

"Show me, Kai!" He ordered and the reflective surface of the mirror was enveloped in a golden glow as an image began to form. It showed Kai with Jay, Ronin, Nelson, and Echo out in the snow with Flame. Cole's eyes widened in a mixture of sorrow and confusion, believing that he was running off. His sadness quickly evaporated into anger at the thought of Kai breaking their agreement. He vowed to bring that spoiled, ungrateful brat back, but there was a voice in the back of his head.

It was a voice telling him that Kai had abandoned him.

He should listen to his instincts as they have never steered him wrong or lead him astray. He should have listened when he first believed Kai would break his heart. The quickest way to break a heart, to make someone depressed and ill, was to get them all tangled up inside. The side effects could kill. If Cole must love someone, he may as well just love himself. He would never leave and he would find he got more rest and he would always feel as good as new.

His freedom was the most important thing.

He couldn't talk for hours, send flowers, write poems, or sing songs and dance beneath the stars that shine above. As soon as someone's heart rules their head their life was not their own. It's hell when someone was always there and it's bliss to be alone, and love of any kind is bad. Whether it be a dog, a child, or a cat, they always took up so much precious time, and to Cole, there was no sense in that. Love took the wildest heart and made it tame and emotions were a thing all great men overcame.

Cole knew he couldn't get attached to anyone or anything because there was nothing worse than things that cling.

He might turn to drink and he would never rest. He might end up mad, and looking like some poor demented dove. He could never fall in love. Cole suddenly let out a feral growl and left the room in a rage. He was going to drag Kai back to the castle and make him wish he had never broken their deal. As the dragon prince left the castle, he failed to hear the faint, hollow laughter of supposed victory as a shadow melted into the halls of the castle...

#The Flame and the Dragon #beauty and the beast #ninjago #ninjago jay #ninjago cole #ninjago nelson #ninjago zane #ninjago morro #ninjago ronin #ninjago kai #lavashipping

9 notes · View notes

livlepretre · 4 years

Note

Okay so Bridgerton.

What did you think of the season as a whole and will you continue watching?

Do you think Penelope is really lady whistledown or is that a red herring? And if she is, why would she bring down her family like that, outside of the Marina/Colin stuff or is that the only reason?

Speaking of which I love the idea of Penelope/Colin, what about you?

I really thought the Dukes reticence to having a child was ridiculous, just because of a vow to his horrible father. Luckily that's changed by the end.

Did you like how Marinas story ended or if not ended, how she now has a sort of new beginning?

What did you think of Anthony/Siena and are you glad it's seemingly ended?

I can't wait to see more Eloise and Queen Charlotte, they were both amazing. What did you think of them?

I really enjoyed it! Between this show and The Great I am all over this new genre of sassy anachronistic period dramas. And, you know, like everyone has been saying, it really fills that particular catty void that Gossip Girl left behind. I thought the characters were pretty well developed and amusing-- exactly what they needed to be in terms of depth and humor to keep the show interesting and dramatic. I wouldn’t say it was a dramatic smash or that it swept me away to the wildest emotional highs and lows, but it also didn’t need to. I very much enjoyed it throughout. Also, during episode six (the sexcapade episode), my eyebrows climbed so far up my forehead I learned I can actually wiggle my ears. And I also learned that I have taught my husband enough about period pieces that he was constantly gasping things like, “THEY’RE TOUCHING HANDS WITH NO GLOVES ON!” in the most scandalized tones imaginable. I was so proud.

So, yes, will definitely continue watching.

You know, it hasn’t occurred to me until just this moment that Lady Whistledown could be anyone other than Pen??? I think the fact that she writes about her family (and Daphne! her best friend’s older sister!) in such tones really goes to show all the ways she feels neglected or slighted by them-- her family is not particularly nice to her, and they are also incredibly controlling (well, her mother is) and tend to take her for granted. I think the Whistledown thing is how she takes her revenge for those slights (at least in terms of her writing about her family). I have no idea why she said that stuff in the first episode that hurt Daphne’s chances, other than naivetée which is possible. I think it wasn’t so much jealousy over Marina/Colin that caused her to write about Marina, so much as it was the dressing down Marina gave her when she told her to grow up and that Colin would never care for her or see her as a woman-- even though the conversation was about Colin, I think Pen’s response was a reaction to Marina being “cruel to be kind” (but really, pretty cruel) to her. She felt betrayed and hurt by Marina so she lashed out. What this all says to me is that Pen is in so many ways still such a young girl. She is very intelligent and thoughtful and loyal, but things like revealing Marina’s secrets like she did because she was hurt are the sort of responses of a very young person who is still learning and growing emotionally.

I am RABID for Penelope/Colin!!!!

Agreed agreed agreed about Simon and his vow to his dad. I kept mumbling that he’s the architect of his own unhappiness when he was refusing to marry Daphne/then when they were on the outs about the children question. So glad he had that wake up call! Honestly, revenge vows to the dead are never worth it.

I very much so view Marina’s story as a tragedy. She has true love, but he dies; she is the belle of the season, but she can’t really take advantage of it; she finds a good man who loves her, but her fear holds her back from being able to tell him the truth and that’s why she loses him (and honestly? would anyone have told the truth there? she stood to lose everything, so much of the tragedy is that even though what marina did wasn’t right, it’s also really hard to imagine doing anything else in her shoes). I’m not sure how I feel about Marina’s path-- I suppose I’ll have to wait to find out how she’s doing in season 2. I’m relieved she’s not cast out, and I suppose I’m willing to accept the premise that basically her career would be in finding a good husband, but it’s always sad to see a character make due with her dead lover’s brother marrying her out of obligation rather than finding true love like so many other characters seem to be doing.

I was a bit whatever about Anthony/Siena to tell you the truth. They had wicked chemistry, but Anthony was sort of a doofus and Siena is totally right that he always wants her to be what she isn’t (and what she doesn’t want to be), he always breaks his word to her, he’s totally unreliable both as a lover and as a person, and just in general he sucks? I’m glad they seem to be over, because I always enjoy it when relationships end because one side decides they respect themselves too much for this. I’m interested to find out where Siena fits into the story going forward, and if Anthony manages to grow up next season.

As for Eloise and Charlotte! I have to be honest, I didn’t much care for Eloise-- my main problem with her is that she assumes she knows better than other characters who see the world differently than her. Like, I didn’t appreciate the way she blew Daphne’s concerns over the marriage market off-- like, Eloise, you’re very lucky you can afford to be so cavalier about it and that you are in a situation where it doesn’t really matter if you get married because you’re rich and your brother will support you no matter what, but for lots of women, it’s deadly serious. I HATED the scene where she broke into the maid’s room and was so haughty and high-handed and I LIVED for the dressing down she got! I suppose my main issue with Eloise is that she cannot conceive that it’s not that she sees more and knows more than others, it’s just that other people see the world differently than her. Also that child is much too young to smoke, BAD BENEDICT for letting her! Maybe she will improve next season though.

Charlotte had most of these flaws as well and yet she kind of works as a villain-stand-in or at least antagonist in the sense that she is a powerful figure capable of really upsetting the apple cart/threatening the happiness and futures of the characters, so I found the same haughtiness and high-handedness very amusing in Charlotte. I also really enjoyed the little touches, like that scene with her husband. Also: HER CLOTHES!

I don’t know why Francesca was away most of the season. I sort of forgot she had been sent away/didn’t remember her from episode 1 so for most of the season I kept wondering where the F child was and whether there were 7 or 8 Bridgerton children.

I also kept expecting Benedict and Henry Granville to be a thing and was very surprised it never happened.

Anyway, those are my thoughts :)

#bridgerton #finnismyoriginalsin #asks

14 notes · View notes

sansacherie · 4 years

Text

my mother’s fury (makes mine seem nothing)

She had been in class for all of five minutes when Miss Unella pursued her lips and told Arianne to take herself to the principal’s office.

“Why?” Arianne was perplexed. She hadn’t been doing anything- well how could she anyway, when Miss Unella’s class had barely started? Arianne had come prepared with last weekend’s homework, as well. Having the Faith of the Seven for first period was hardly the most riveting way to begin Tuesday morning – which in Arianne’s mind, already held the dishonor of being the most unfortunate day of the week. Although others might have considered Mondays to have that spot, Arianne had always liked the feeling of promise that a new week could bring, and it was also the same day in which Aunt Elia and her cousins Rhaenys and Aegon came over for dinner. Wednesdays were “hump day” – the point in which the week was almost halfway over, and before you knew it was Thursday and Friday. In contrast, Tuesday was dull and drab.

But despite all of this, Arianne was a good student who always did her homework. But apparently, that was not sufficient enough for Miss Unella.

“It’s your jumper. Or lack thereof.”

“Oh.” Arianne felt relieved. Now she understood- one of the uniform rules at Naerys Academy was that students were expected to wear their school jumpers during the first term. It existed with other rules such as wearing their blazer to and from school if you were walking or taking public transport- because you were “the face of Naerys.” Arianne wasn’t wearing hers- her brother Trystane had smeared jam all over it this morning. As cleaning it in time was out of the question, Arianne’s mother had no choice but to write her a note explaining the situation which Arianne had given to her homeroom teacher. “No, it’s fine. I already gave a note to Mrs Lynora explaining things.”

“Be that as it may. I cannot allow you to stay in my class, my dear.”

Arianne always hated when people called you dear. They were always bound to say the most condensing drivel. And her teacher did not disappoint.

“I’m afraid that because of your body type, you need to be wearing the required uniform.”

“My body type?” Arianne gritted her teeth. So, this is what it was about.

“Yes, my dear. I’m afraid that without your jumper- well, it would be distracting to the boys.” Miss Unella paused, then continued. “Furthermore, drawing attention to yourself in such a way violates the values of modesty that we are trying to instill in you.”

How dare she! Arianne wanted to cry, but her classmates were all staring at her. Some in sympathy, others in amusement that was the inevitable result of teenage cruelty; but all would likely be telling their friends later on of this incident, and therefore she, Arianne would control how it was told.

“Well to be perfectly honest, you haven’t proven yourself to be a very good teacher in the time you’ve been with us.” Miss Unella was in fact new- covering for Mrs Fossoway, who had left to go on maternity leave. “So, I doubt the boys would learn anything of note, even if they weren’t supposedly distracted.”

At this, the entire class erupted into appreciative sniggers, and Miss Unella’s face reddened. Good, Arianne thought spitefully. Let her know what it was like to be shamed publicly, like that.

“Miss Martell, do I have to ask you again to leave?”

“No, you don’t.” Arianne had risen from her seat, scooping up her books into her arms. “Because I rather not be in the same room as you, if I can help it.”

She slammed the door on the way out.

II.

“Well Arianne, what seems to be the problem here?” Principal Waynwood’s voice was kind, but firm. Arianne knew she had to control herself here- but it was almost impossible; the injustice of it all consuming her.

“The only problem is that Miss Unella didn’t think my excuse for not wearing a jumper was sufficient.” Arianne explained the situation to Principal Waynwood, from her brother’s accident to the confrontation with Miss Unella. “Apparently, my body type means I cannot get away with wearing certain things- otherwise I’d be distracting the boys from learning.”

She hated that she was having to say these words, to this woman. She hated how degraded she felt. And most of all, she hated Miss Unella for being the cause of it all.

“I see.” Principal Waynwood sighed. “Miss Unella obviously did not handle things in the best manner that she could have. Because of that, I will be having a talk with her. However, Arianne, your rudeness was still unacceptable.”

“What about the way she was rude to me?” Arianne raged. Why did it feel like everyone was against her?

Principal Waynwood put her hand up. “That’s enough, Arianne. I understand, but rudeness is not the way we communicate our feelings.” Arianne wanted to scream. “As the bell for the second period is about to ring, you may remain here until it does. In the meantime, I will write a note that you can use in case this uh, situation pops up again.’

When the bell rang, Arianne left the office, clutching the note. The last place she wanted to be was school. A small part of her had hoped that going to Principal Waynwood’s office would make her feel better. How completely, incredibly, brutally wrong she was.

III.

What did make Arianne feel better was the outrage of her friends.

“I can’t believe she said that.” Slyva stabbed her chicken breast with a fork; almost as if she was imagining Miss Unella’s face.

Andrey shrugged. “I can. Apparently, she’s more er, dedicated than Mrs Leonette ever was.” He smirked.

“It doesn’t matter how dedicated she is.” Slyva said. “She shouldn’t have embarrassed Arianne like that!”

“No, she shouldn’t have.” Tyene, Arianne’s cousin, softly agreed. She twirled her ring, carved in the shape of a snake. “And we need to respond. What do you say, Arianne?”

Arianne remembered Miss Unella’s words, how she had used religion to shame her. A plan was formulating in Arianne’s mind.

So, Miss Unella was concerned that she was failing to live up to the religious values of their school?

Well, Arianne knew just how to fix that.

IV.

Although Naerys Academy was a Seven-based school, you did not necessarily have to be religious to attend. Arianne knew that applied to many of the students, whose parents simply wanted to take advantage of the resources that the school could provide for their children – for instance, seniors consistently performed well in the end of year exams; allowing students to get into some of the top-ranking universities- such as Trident Institute.

And well because of that, Arianne could hardly be doing anything wrong when she decided to do what she did.

By Friday, Arianne and her friends had put up posters all over the school – advertising a new religion.

It was called Martellism- in which Arianne was the prophet. The posters encouraged students to seek out Arianne, if they wished to find enlightenment.

Arianne attracted attention, just as she wanted. And attention came in the form of an irate Miss Unella.

“Miss Martell, can you explain what is the meaning of this?”

Arianne smiled brightly. “Of course. You see, I was thinking and you’re completely right. I wasn’t dressed in a way that was living up to the school’s religious values.” Had such sweet words ever sounded so poisonous? “And then it came to me. Why not just make a new religion, with values that I do want to live up to, such as not criticizing the way a girl dresses, or shaming her body?”

Miss Unella narrowed her eyes at Arianne. “You’ve just given yourself a detention, Miss Martell. Saturday next” Arianne could detect the faint triumph in the woman’s voice and knew she probably got some satisfaction from it. After all, nobody liked detentions- but one after school was infinitely preferable to one on the weekend.

Arianne crossed her arms as Miss Unella walked away. For the rest of the day, she brooded. She had tried playing the fool, and where had that gotten her?

Arianne thought of her cousin Rhaenys. Rhaenys was all of twelve, long-legged, whose braces knew Arianne made her feel insecure but who had a wicked sense of humor in which nobody was safe from. She could still remember pushing a six-year-old Rhaenys on the swings, who giggled happily.

Would somebody else one day speak to Rhaenys the way Miss Unella did to Arianne- making her feel small and worthless? Would they attack her body?

She needed to talk to her mother.

When she had told her mother everything, Mellario gripped the edge of the kitchen top very tightly. Not only was Arianne not to attend that detention she said, but she was going to organize a meeting with Principal Waynwood.

The meeting was organized for Monday, after school. Mellario was fierce in defending her daughter.

“My daughter will not be attending the detention given to her by Miss Unella.” She said the name as if it was a curse. “Instead, I want this woman gone and a formal apology from this school for the abhorrent way she treated Arianne. Sexualising a fifteen-year-old girl in front of her peers like that!”

Principal Waynwood looked so uncomfortable that Arianne couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her. “Mrs Mellario, I understand you are upset,”

“You understand nothing.” Her mother interrupted.

“But as I told Arianne, I already had a talk with Miss Unella. I agree that her way of handling things that day was unfortunate. I am truly sorry for the way Arianne was made to feel. But I don’t think we need to escalate the situation by firing her.”

“Mrs Waynwood.” Mellario’s lifted her chin. “You’ll remember that Arianne’s father and I both come from prominent families. With that, I promise you, we will take full advantage of our positions to make life living hell for Naerys Academy.”

Principal Waynwood swallowed nervously. Arianne could have kissed her mother.

In the end, Miss Unella was fired- speedily replaced with a woman named Miss Nysterica. They got the apology as well, although truthfully it really should have come from Miss Unella herself.

Ultimately, though, Arianne knew she didn’t apologies from that awful woman anyway.

It was enough to know that her mother would always fight for her.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #got #arianne martell #princess arianne martell #yes this can be better #arianne's school was based on my own #inspired by an old article i read

9 notes · View notes

boyy-wonder-grayson · 4 years

Text

Winter's Weather // Dick Grayson Au!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Warnings: nothing other than some swearing and maybe a little angst if you squint (?)

A/n: chapter 2 it's finally here!! I don't know how to feel about this since I've hit writers block quite a few times while writing this,I wanted to make it longer than the first one, which it is, but I don't know. Sorry about the moodboards they're easy and fun to do, so I'll probably do more lmao. Thanks for reading and feedback is always appreciated :) anyway enjoy!!

The first night at her father’s cabin was spent reminiscing of all the times she has been there when her family was complete. Her father was a fisherman, so he usually would wake the girls up and take them to the lake to teach them how to fish. Y/n was quite good at it, her sister Remy on the other hand was not kin of the early activities her father would take them to. Y/n found her father’s old fishing roads at the back of the house; she’d probably end up selling them or donating them to the local shop back in town. It wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be. It’s been five years since her father had passed and the wound was still fresh; her father had been her best friend through life. He was a kind man with a wicked sense of humor, he was the backbone of their family, so when he passed it was harder and harder to go back home to her mother who apparently didn’t took him long to find someone else to spend the rest of her life with. That was something Y/n wasn’t happy about; is not that she didn’t want for her mother to be happy, on the contrary, it was that her father’s death was still very much fresh on her mind and she was not ready to move on from that just yet. That was part of the reason why she moved back to his old cabin; to make peace with his death, and try to live a happy life just like her father had wanted for her.

So far she wasn’t doing a good job at it.

In the mess that her father had left on the basement of the house she found more and more stuff that belonged to him and it was hard for her no to cry; being surrounded by her father’s presence was something she wasn’t quite ready to do apparently. She found his old camera inside of a box. The box was filled with Polaroid’s of her, some with her sister and her mother and some of the house. His father was an amateur photographer and that camera was a gift from her in his 50’s birthday. He loved It so much that he took it everywhere with him. He used to say that a picture could tell a better story than words could muster, which it used to annoy her given that she was a writer; writing was her life and for her father to say something like that would make her roll her eyes, but now looking at the photographs she realized he was right. There he was smiling at the camera hugging her closer to his body, laughing because he was squeezing her so hard that her face could barely be seen, nevertheless her sister took the picture. She sniffed looking around and drying her tears, it was going to be harder than she thought. She grabbed the box and the camera and took them upstairs with her, promising that tomorrow she would organize everything and would set her life in motion. After all she would do it for her father, if not for her.

----------------------

It was seven a.m. when she heard a knock on her door and groaned, hoping that whoever was brave enough to disrupt her sleep would just go away, but of course she wasn’t that lucky. The knocking intensified until she threw the covers of her bed and shivered when the cold morning air hit her warm body. Apparently sleeping with a short sleeved shirt and some shorts wasn’t a good idea in winter. She opened the door without looking who it was; she was already in a bad mood, one: because who the hell comes all the way to the middle of the woods to wake someone up at the crack of dawn –overdramatic as always—and two: nobody knew she was back in town so who the hell was banging on her door so early? Her question was quickly answered when she was face to face with non-other that the annoying man from yesterday.

“What are you doing here?” she asked confused “and so early in the morning” she added bitterly trying her hardest to show her distaste of his visit.

“Good morning to you too” the guy replied sarcastically. “Like I told you yesterday, your father put me in charge of his place and since you’re here now, and since I’m sure you’re not aware of how a cabin is run, I thought I’d explain to you, so you don’t tear this place down” he said smiling at her now, showing a cute smile that made her stomach turn but not in a good way. He was cocky and she didn’t like that. Not that much at least.

“Is it necessary that you come here at 7 a.m. to do this?” she asked through gritted teeth. She couldn’t believe the audacity of this man.

“Yes, because unlike you I can’t lose my time with people who decided to come live in a cabin in the middle of the woods because her life in the big city wasn’t working for her” he said dryly, almost as if he was angry about it. Y/n was taken aback with his response and look at him in disbelief, partly because of how quickly his playful and cocky attitude changed to a more serious and dark one, and partly because he was right about her reason for coming back to Mystic so suddenly. It was true that her life in the city was not going well and she thought some fresh air from the small town that saw her grow would be a good change, but she wasn’t going to give this stranger man the satisfaction of knowing he was right. He was so right.

“Excuse me Mr. Grinch” she said, earning a glare from the boy. “I don’t need you here. I’ve spent years in this cabin; I know exactly how to keep this place running okay? So you can go now and steal Christmas or whatever that Grinch’s like you do” she said turning around leaving the boy standing at the door. It was her second day back in town and she was already infuriated with this man. Who the hell does he think he is to talk to her like that?

The man on the other hand was fuming; he didn’t like her attitude, and he certainly didn’t like to be compared to one of the most famous grumps in the world, especially by someone who didn’t even know him. He had his reasons to be that way, to be guarded against everyone and everything; that was at least his justification for his shitty attitude, but Y/n was not going to put up with that.

“Listen city girl, I’m not here to discuss how you should or should not do, your father gave me explicit instructions to keep this place intact, and unlike you, I plan to follow them” he said walking closer to the girl. Y/n was angry now. She didn’t even have her morning coffee and she was already arguing with a man, her morning could not be better. Before she could start spewing insults at the boy he started talking again.

“Do you know how much firewood you need to survive the winter? Because no offense but I don’t think chopping wood is one of your strong suits. Or do you know how to properly clean and dry the wood? Or do you know what kind of stain you need to use in this particular house? I’m sure you do right, since you’ve always came here?” he asked question after question making the girl fell smaller with each one. It was true that she didn’t know much about what it took to keep cabin running, but she was stubborn as hell and was not going to back down from an argument, not when her pride was on the line.

“I don’t need some lumberjack wannabe to tell me how to take care of my house, I can always talk to someone else, or hire someone to the maintenance for me” she replied smugly, enjoying the way his face contorted with each word she said. He scoffed and ran a hand through his hair trying to calm himself down, it wasn’t ideal that he was stubborn as hell too. Their personalities collided and no one was going to back down if that meant admitting they were wrong.

“Your father asked me to take care of this place, and I will do it whether you like it or not” he said looking straight into her eyes. She would be a big fat liar if she said that his stare wasn’t doing things to her. Her stomach twisted and her heartbeat accelerated looking at the man in front of her. He was hot and handsome as hell, his brown eyes became darker the more frustrated he got and she imagined herself in a different situation with those brown eyes staring at her with such intensity. She quickly shook her head to get rid of such sinful thoughts and cleared her throat trying to come remember what he said last.

The brown eyed boy wasn’t too different from her. His eyes darted towards her chest, he noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra and the cold air of the morning made her nipples hard, but she was too engrossed trying arguing with him to notice. But he did notice my god. He removed his eyes quickly from her chest and the next thing he noticed was her long legs; he imagined himself in a different situation where her legs would be wrapped around his waist. He shook his head gently removing those thoughts from his head, hopefully she wouldn’t have noticed the way he was checking her out. She didn’t, but she did ask him a question.

“What?” he said feeling stupid for thinking about taking the woman in front of him against the nearest wall, instead of listening to her.

“I asked what your name is, or should I call you Grinch?” she asked with amusement dancing in her eyes.

“I’m Richard, but everyone just calls me Dick.”

------

The following day Y/n woke up early that day with the intention of doing some work around the house. She wasn’t sure yet what would happen to the cabin; she thought about selling the place once she finished with the maintenance and some remodeling. A cabin in the woods would give her some good money; but detaching herself from the house where she spent half her childhood and teenage years was hard.

She still had time though. She was taking some time away from the city so spending time away from everyone and being on her own would do her good. Or at least that was what she said to herself. She decided after having her second breakfast –which consisted of some coffee—that she needed some groceries if she was going to spend the winter in the woods. The stores weren’t so far from the cabin so she grabbed her wallet, keys and wrapped herself in her warmest clothes to go out and face the winter of Connecticut. She made it into town in twenty minutes. It was snowing slightly when she got out of the car, she had park just in front of Mrs. Bradley old market. That place was already when she was a kid and apparently was still standing strong. Mrs. Bradley was the nicest woman she had ever met, the woman would always sneak a candy or two for her and her sister when they were shopping with her dad, her mother didn’t like that and scoffed whenever that happened but Mrs. Bradley would pay no mind and do it whenever she could. The bell atop of the door dinged when she entered the shop, making the old woman lift her gaze and when she recognized a smile stretched across her lips.

“Y/n! Oh look at you!” the old woman beamed at her making her smile even bigger. The woman moved from her spot behind the register to hug the girl, which the later reciprocated with as much enthusiasm as the woman.

“You look so beautiful; look how much you’ve grown!”

“Thanks Mrs. Bradley you’re looking good too, didn’t age a day.”

“Lucky for you flattery would get you everywhere with me” the woman said, making the girl laugh. One thing she loved about this town was the people. Most of the town had seen her grow from a little kid to the woman she is today. She had a special place for everyone in this town, especially Mrs. Bradley, she was like the grandmother she never had.

“Well lucky me then” she said giggling with the old woman.

“I haven’t seen you in what? Five years? ” Mrs. Bradley asked rubbing her hands along her arms in a comforting manner “I’m sorry about your father, we were all very sad to hear that he was gone, I can’t imagine how you must’ve felt. You were so closed” she said smiling sadly.

“Thanks, and yeah it was…hard, that’s why it took me so long to come back here” she admitted; it was easy for her to talk to this woman, easier than with her mother for sure.

“I know sweetie, I know. But you’re here now, and that’s what matters.” She was so grateful to have someone like her that she could confide in about pretty much everything.

“Yeah, and I’ll be around for a long time I think,” she confessed. The old woman hugged her once again and professed how happy she was that she had decided to stick around for a while promising that they would have a chat whenever she was free. The girl nodded excited to finally be back somewhere where she felt comfortable enough to call it home. She apologized to the customer that was waiting for the women to finish chatting and made her way to the back of the store to get some groceries. She was halfway done with every item on her list when she found herself in front of the cereal aisle; she scanned the shelf looking for her favorite brand, she smiled triumphantly when she found the last box at the top of the shelf. She stood on her tiptoes trying to reach the box before someone snatched it out of her grasp. Her head snapped quickly to find the body attached to the hand that took the last box of cereal and of course it had to be no other than Dick.

“Give it back” she said, already annoyed by her presence. Dick looked down at her acknowledging her presence and chuckled when he saw her frowning like a child.

“No” he said, trying hard not to laugh at her expression. Her mouth was slightly open, her brows were furrowed and he knew she was ready to retaliate.

“I saw it first, I even grabbed it first before you literally took it out of my hands” she explained “So technically it’s mine” she said crossing her arms across her chest.

“Technically it’s in my basket, so it’s mine,” he said. He would never admit it but as much as he was annoyed by her, he still enjoyed pissing her off.

“You stole it! So give it back now” she reached a hand waiting for him to return her cereal.

“Nop” he said and turned around leaving her with her mouth open. She was trying to think of a good comeback but dick was halfway across the store by then.

“At least he does justice to his name” Y/n said grabbing a different box of cereal, sighing she continued her shopping hoping not to bump into Dick for the rest of the day.

--------------------

Dick’s phone rang the second he sat inside his car. He sighed when he saw the name on the screen.

“Bruce” he said coldly. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture now; he had shit to do other than to listen to what his dad had to say.

“Son, how are you? I wasn’t sure if you were going to answer the phone” Bruce said making Dick roll his eyes and his passive-aggressiveness.

“Yeah, well I did. Can I help you with something?” he was already stressed about this whole thing. He moved from Gotham to avoid everything and everyone; but apparently Gotham did not move on from him.

“Not really I was just checking on you, since you don’t seem to call much these days” Bruce said sounding a little…sad. Dick felt a pang in his chest. Guilt. He knew Bruce was not doing this on purpose, despite everything he loved his dad and Bruce loved him too, but being reminded every week or two how he seemed to forget about his family stung.

“I know, and I’m sorry it’s just…it’s still hard,” Dick confessed over the phone. He heard Bruce sighing on the other line.

“I know kid, I know it’s hard. But I thought moving there was supposed to do good to you. What happened?”

“Nothing happened that’s the thing” he said not making much sense “Nothing happened. Things just stayed the same as it was back in Gotham and I honestly don’t know what I was expecting when I moved out here. I guess I’m just mad that my feelings didn’t change after all the time I spent here” he pinched the bridge of his nose; he didn’t know why was he saying all this now, he spent so much time lying to himself and his father about being okay and now the words came out of his mouth like a damn breaking after holding the water for far too long.

“Look Dick, I know you don’t like when I give you advice but listen to me son” Bruce said in a serious tone “Things won’t change unless you make them change. Moving out was just the first step, maybe it was a good one or maybe not. But things won’t be different because you don’t want them to be different. Starting over is a big step in life, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a bad one. You need to start thinking less and start acting more.”

As much as Dick hated to admit it, Bruce was right. He wondered many times if the only reason why he wasn’t moving out in life was because he was subconsciously sabotaging his own life; and the answer was yes. He had many opportunities to forget about her and find someone new to help him heal his broken heart, but he refused to take them because he was afraid. Afraid of being hurt again, afraid of opening to someone only for that someone to leave him like it happened the last time. He knew it was stupid to hold onto the pain from the past, and that not everyone was going to hurt him, but the fear was there and he spent so many years being comfortable inside the wall he built around himself, that thinking of going out of them was scary.

“I know, and I try but…I can’t”

“I know son, but being scared it’s just part of the healing process. You can’t throw your life away for one misstep. It’s not worth it. She wasn’t worth it” Bruce said trying to lift the boys’ spirits.

“Thanks dad, I kind needed this long overdue conversation” he said sincerely. He missed his family.

“No problem kid, I know I haven’t been the best example when it comes to relationships, but I know a thing or two” Bruce joked. Dick smiled wide, missing the old man and his antics.

“I have to go, I’ll talk to you later dad” he said, turning the engine on.

"Okay kid, take care, and please don’t hesitate to call. We miss you, I think even Jason does”

“Tell him I miss him too, and maybe one of these days you can come visit, if that’s okay with you” dick said suddenly worried about his father’s answer.

“I’d love to Dick. Very much.” He hung up the phone and smiled genuinely in what felt like years of not doing it. He was unaware of someone else looking at him from the other side of the street.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #nightwing #titans #titans imagines #titans imagine #titans x reader #netflixs titans #dcu #dc #dcu fanfic #fanfic

24 notes · View notes

mydisenchantedeulogy · 4 years

Text

In Chains (Chapter Five) Bones (Trafalgar Law)

Bepo breathed in the humid air of the forest and curled his nose up in disgust. The substance from the dart he found aboard the pirate ship was getting stronger the further in he trekked; the source was bound to be nearby, he assumed. A sense of hope rose in his chest. He honestly disliked this island. Something about it seemed beastly to him. No one was around, but it felt like eyes were on him, gauging him. His fur stood up in fear; he marched faster just to get this over and done with.

“Wait up. I was talking to you,” Shachi moaned. He raced to catch up, choking on a sob as he walked next to the bear. “What did I do wrong? I don’t understand.”

Bepo sighed. Was he still going on about this? Humans and their fixed ideas; the eeriness of the forest seemed more pressing to him, though a distraction from his thoughts might be just what he needed.

“Have you tried talking to her? She might appreciate you taking responsibility for your actions.”

The human woman Samira was the one Bepo was referring to. His crewmates had become enamored with her. She seemed nice – no hostel energy. He hadn’t spoken to her yet, but his captain made it evident that she was trouble, so he tried to stay clear of her. Even so, her dynamism with the others made him a little eager to start a conversation with her.

“Is she really worth the trouble?”

Shachi grunted. “Of course, and I haven’t done anything wrong; she just starting ignoring me. Ya know, you’re not very good at giving advice.”

“Sorry I can’t be any help,” Bepo apologized. He had no idea how humans worked. His fur ruffled in aggravation. “I can barely think with this smell up my nose, and not to mention this place is freaking me the hell out.”

He groaned and frantically rubbed his nose.

“Captain did say it was mostly uncharted,” Shachi mentioned, tone shifting. He crossed his arms over his chest, an icy chill made him shiver in fright.

Massive kapok trees hovered over him like giants; their trunks as wide as the mangroves back on the archipelago. Eerie noises echoed across their wide branches, that in his mind seemed to reach like hands down on him and his crew. Damn the bear for making his thoughts wonder.

“Yeah … me too. But once we find what the Captain is looking for, we can leave.”

Bepo sighed; he knew that. He didn’t however know what Law wanted with the crew of the abandoned pirate ship, but he assumed his reason had to do with Samira and the poisoned dart, or something he wasn’t sure was safe for the crew to know yet. In any case, Bepo was along for the ride.

“I hope we find them soon,” he mentioned with a gloomy whine. “It’s extremely too hot.”

Poor dear.

Samira frowned; Bepo was in obvious grief. If she was hot, she knew that he was bound to be. The boiler suit was keeping the insects out, but the heat was trapped inside the fabric. Her thighs were sweating, and she feared the material would eventually cause them to chafe.

She dared a glance at Law – he was in no better shape – then removed the heavy satchel from her back, rummaging through it until she found a bottle of water amongst the supplies; there were three more, all sweating and a little warm.

“Mester (mister) Trafalgar. Do you mind if I or someone else gives this to Bepo? He looks as though he needs it.”

Law glanced at her in interest, then moved his gold eyes towards the bottle. A coy grin pulled at his lips. “How sweet of you, Amunet-ya. I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”

Her face warmed up. “I’d hope so. There’s more if you want one too.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine. Have one if you want.” He motioned for Penguin to come near and ordered for him to take the bottle to Bepo – compliments of Samira.

She handed it over with a smile. Now that she was alone with Law – Ikkaku had to remain with the pirate ship – Samira had a question she had been wanting to ask.

“That power you have … how did you acquire it?”

Law grunted. “That’s not a story appropriate for this time, nor is my past any of your business. But to humor you, it came from a Devil Fruit; a mysterious fruit that can grant immense power to the eater.”

“Like a curse?”

He nodded to show agreement. “The sea hates you and will take your ability to swim. To some pirates that’s a heavy burden.”

“But is the power worth it? Does it bring more harm than good?”

Law gave her a heated look. He was curious about her motive – was she a devil fruit user? – but her questions were hitting home; bones he wanted to keep buried. She obviously knew nothing about what she was doing, but he still felt annoyance from her questions.

“It depends on the user,” he admitted with a sigh. “My power can do more than move us from one spot to another; it has medical purposes that suits me just fine.”

Samira widened her eyes in shock. It depended on the user, he claimed. She felt unsure, but her curse didn’t seem terrifying when explained like this.

“I … think I may have powers like yours.”

Law opened his mouth to respond, but Penguin ran back shouting his name.

“We have a problem. Bepo tracked the scent across the river, but it looks too deep to cross. It’s hard to tell with all the mud though,” he explained.

Samira glanced at Law for directive, but he merely nodded and sauntered towards Bepo and Shachi at the bank of the river; another time, she presumed. She felt like she was finally on to something.

“So Ikkaku is rubbing off on you, huh?”

She gave a curious look; Penguin gestured towards Shachi and mocked a pout, sobbing her name softly. Samira snorted in laughter.

“All me actually. He put me on laundry duty so he wouldn’t have to do it.”

Penguin laughed. “Nice. Ya got him pretty good too. I’ve never seen him so distraught.”

He didn’t blame her; Shachi was lazy. He did Penguin dirty a few times before. It was all in good fun; made it more entertaining to see Samira so into it – like she was one of them; a Heart Pirate. His smile faded. She wasn’t though; she was just a guest.

“Better see about that problem,” he mentioned awkwardly, walking off.

Samira gently smiled and trailed behind him to the river. She was in awe at it; the water was thick with mud and who knows what else; honestly, she couldn’t tell.

“We’re not swimming across this, are we?”

She felt as Bepo sounded; pessimistic. In no way did she want to do that.

“It’s sea water, despite the color. It empties into many small drainage points across the area; the water and mud seem to fertilize the trees,” Law guessed. This made the most sense to him. Swimming across it was not an option for him.

He groaned in annoyance and brought up his hand, forming a room. It was large enough to cross the river, but his endurance was taking a hit. Law picked up a rock and tossed it, then moved them once it landed on the other side.

Samira swayed back as a spell of dizziness affected her. She’d never been moved so quickly in her entire life; her stomach churned and she about fell over, but a sturdy hand caught her.

Bepo sat her back onto her feet and allowed Samira to lean on him a minute.

“Sorry, but I didn’t want you to fall in.”

She thanked him. “No reason to be sorry. You saved me from an unpleasant incident, Mester (mister) Bepo.”

His face heated up in embarrassment. “Take it as gratitude for giving me the water.”

Samira understood; not all of the crew trusted her. She was an enigma to them, offering no reason for them to trust her. It was better this way. Her business was her own. She nodded her head and moved to stand next to Law. He said nothing and pressed forward.

For the duration of the trek, Samira remained quiet. She followed Bepo through the forest, lost in her own thoughts. Her conversation with Law was forgotten for the moment, but his words had struck a chord in her heart. A sense of ease washed over her, but what concerned her was the weight of her awareness to the situation. How long had it been since she had felt this way? Months perhaps. And in the company of pirates no less. Samira huffed a sigh. The last few days was the safest she had felt in years.

“It’s strange,” she uttered.

Law overheard her, but said nothing in return. It wasn’t his business; her personal thoughts. Furthermore, his navigator had stopped. Bepo ushered him over and pushed aside the vivid leaf of an elephant ear.

Beyond the undergrowth was a meadow of giant crocus flowers, swaying gently in the wind; blue and violet like the sea on a calm day. Law stared at awe; the Crocus Sea; he understood. And at the edge of the meadow was a small village.

“You did good, Bepo.”

He led them from this point.

Samira cooed in awe at the beautiful flowers, picking one to place behind her ear. She was careful not to step on them as she moved to stand beside Law.

“This is what you were looking for?”

He grinned at her naïve and cheery behavior. “There are some species of crocus that are harmful to humans, Amunet-ya. Were you aware?”

“I’ve never seen one before … so no,” she retorted in dread.

Her sudden expression made him snort. “Fortunate for you, the bulbs here are not poisonous.”

“You really are wicked, Mester (mister) Trafalgar.”

Samira pouted, blowing out her cheek and pressed on towards the village. The nerve of him; each and every chance he got Law picked on her. It was irritating.

She reached the edge of the village; a shoddy wooden gate stood open, but Samira was hesitant to walk through it. There were no sounds coming from within the square; no people from the looks of it. Was it also abandoned? She wasn’t sure, so as she walked through the gate and into the village, she kept up her guard.

The buildings reminded her more of small huts made of wood and straw, some hardly standing. Weeds and creepers covered the entirety of the fenced off settlement, testing her theory that it was abandoned. She stood and waited for Law and the others to catch up.

“There’s no one here,” she pointed out, as Law sauntered up to meet her.

He took a look around and grunted. Samira seemed to be right; there were no signs of people. However, he felt the uncanny sense of eyes on them.

“Does the scent end here?”

Bepo nodded. “It’s hard to tell, but the smell is all around us.”

All around us?

Law noticed from the corner of his eye a large menacing silhouette on top of the hut furthest from them, but as he turned to get a better look, the silhouette vanished; the broken straw from the roof lifting into the air was the only reason he thought his mind wasn’t losing it. He glanced around, but he couldn’t get a lock on the person.

Suddenly he realized why.

“Get out of the open; it’s a trap. He’s able to camou––

He was too late. Shachi let out a scream of pain and grabbed his left side; a familiar dart was lodged in him. His body immediately hit the ground and convulsed furiously.

Samira called out to him and ran to his side. Her bright eyes widened in fear once she noticed the dart. What was he doing here?

“Move him inside,” Law ordered, breaking her from her thoughts. “He’s been poisoned.”

Bepo and Penguin picked him up and took him inside one of the huts; Law and Samira followed. She watched as Law removed the dart and formed a room around them. The rest she was perplexed by. Law used the large sword Bepo had been carrying to cut him in half; her stomach churned in disgust.

How could he? She thought he was a doctor?

Tears poured down her face. It was her fault Shachi was dead. She grabbed her head and sobbed; her power sparked to life.

“Amunet-ya! Control yourself,” Law hissed. He could hardly focus; her ability was chaotic.

She shook her head.

“He wants me; only me. I’m sorry … so sorry.”

Warm hands took her own. She glanced up in shock; Bepo was pleading with her to stop. But why? Shachi was dead because of her.

“It’s fine; Shachi is fine.”

He wasn’t though. She watched Law cut him in half. As she looked at him, though, she noticed that he was back in one piece; he was unconscious, but he was breathing.

Her power eased up, leaving her feeling exhausted. Penguin was in shock.

“Can someone explain to me what’s going on? Who the hell is that guy out there?”

Law shot a glance at Samira. “Tell them Amunet-ya.”

“It doesn’t matter what I tell them,” she uttered. “Arsenio won’t let us leave. He’s too fast, and his power is unlike anything you’ve ever seen; he’s a monster.”

Law stood up and walked over to them. His room was still activated, but this was mostly so he could determine where Arsenio was. He managed to avoid the room.

“He ate a Devil Fruit; a Zoan type I imagine.”

The poison he used was secreted from his body, not amassed like Law originally thought. He came to this conclusion when he figured out that Arsenio could camouflage. His leap radius was beyond human standards too; a dart frog maybe.

“Clever of him to ambush us in a place like this,” he mentioned with a grin. The vast forest and fauna covered huts made an excellent place for him to hide.

An instantaneous thump rocked their hut. Law kept his room up, but the control over it was unsteady.

“Can you hear me? I want to speak to the captain; Trafalgar Law. He is amongst the five of you in there, isn’t he?”

He’d heard of him. Law grunted in annoyance. “I am. What can I do for you, Frog-ya?”

“Pleased to meet you. My name is Arsenio, ribbit, and yes … I am a frog man.” His guttural voice chilled Samira to the bone. “As I am sure you know, the asset within your care is important to me; I need her back, so I am willing to give you the chance to return her to me, before I barge in and kill you and the crew you brought onto the island with you; that includes the pretty lady on the pirate ship too, ribbit.”

Law snorted. “Not even going to let us walk, are you? That’s cruel. I imagine the missing pirate crew was on you then?”

“It was, ribbit. As you and the others will be,” Arsenio stated.

He left Law no real choice. Making a quick decision he grabbed Samira by the arm and yanked her away from Bepo. She gave him a confused look, but he ignored her.

“You want her, Frog-ya? Meet with me in the square and I’ll bring her out.”

Samira froze up in fear. What was he doing? She pulled away and glared at him; her chest tightened as her power activated.

Law didn’t have time for this.

“Listen to me, Amunet-ya. I have an easy plan to beat him, but you need to calm down first. Whatever your power is rouses frenzied emotions from others; I can’t focus,” he mentioned.

She widened her eyes. Frenzied emotions? She wasn’t aware others could feel her power when it flared up. This scared her. Samira took a deep and anxious breath; the feeling in her chest eased up.

Law relaxed a bit. His thoughts cleared up. He also took a breath. “I don’t know the extent or power of your ability, but I want you to use it on him when I tell you to. The rest I will take care of.”

“I can’t … I could hurt you or the others,” she tried to explain. Losing control was too great a risk. “There has to be another way. This plan won’t work.”

He sneered at her. How dare she. “Trust me. Do as I say and control it. You’ve done it before.”

Samira frown; he was right. She controlled her power back in Slab Town, and she did it again just a few minutes ago. Focus … control. Drying her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt, Samira took a deep breath. She could do it.

“How will I know when to blast him?”

Law grinned. “When I form a room; that will be the signal.”

He took her arm again – gentler this time – and directed her outside the hut.

Arsenio, like planned was waiting in the square. Samira trembled in fear; he was not as she remembered. He was a monster; a giant and grotesque monster with round cheeks. His obtrusive makeup had spread across his body in bands of black and yellow, and his arms and legs were broad and muscular. Was this the power of his Devil Fruit? Could Law really beat this beast?

Said man suddenly stopped and pulled her close to him. Samira could feel his warm breath against her neck.

“Let her come to me,” Arsenio demanded. His voice was guttural and stern, different from the mild-mannered tone in which he usually spoke.

Law released Samira. “Nice and slow; move.”

She did as he ordered and sauntered forward. Her heart thumped swiftly in her chest.

Trust him … trust him.

She could find no reason not to.

Nearing the monster who tormented and exploited her for so long, Samira clenched her jaw. He was going to suffer; she would make sure of this. Her demons beseeched her to blast him away, but she trusted Law; she needed to wait.

As she came within reach of Arsenio, her power activated. His horizontal pupils dilated; he seemed to notice. Though before he could respond, a familiar blue room swallowed them – the signal. Arsenio croaked in irritation.

“Don’t eve––

Samira interrupted him, throwing back her broken arm. Wisps of chaotic energy poured off her in erratic waves as she landed a hit. The force of the punch generated a shockwave that blasted her and Arsenio back; Samira hit the ground with a loud oomph, and the frog man smacked into the wall of a busted hut.

Law traded places with debris from the wall and used his Scalpel technique to expel his heart. It bounced out and landed next to Arsenio’s unconscious human body.

Well done, Amunet-ya.

He picked up the encased heart and brought it to said woman. She was laid out on her back, out of breath and covered in dirt and minor scratches; he was amused that she was still awake.

“Did your plan work?”

Law nodded. “Better than I expected.”

He showed her Arsenio’s heart and smirked as she wheezed in shock. It thumped in its glass like prison.

“He’s not dead? You realize that letting him go is a mistake?”

Law was aware. He brought up the cube and gave it a squeeze. Arsenio may have been unconscious, but from afar Law heard him wheeze noisily in pain.

“That’s a strange power you have, Mester (mister) Trafalgar. It’s extremely terrifying,” Samira admitted softly.

She wondered about Arsenio though. “You have his heart. What do you intend to do with it?”

“I have some questions for him, then I’ll let him go, but I’m taking his heart in exchange for the one he took from me.”

Samira wasn’t sure what he meant by this, but she had a horrible feeling it wasn’t something good. She closed her tired eyes and sighed. No matter; Arsenio’s fate wasn’t her concern. He’d most likely die for failing to capture her.

For the time being she felt safe. Opening her eyes, warm tears clouded her vision.

“I hate this place. The sun is too bright,” she mentioned with a sob.

Law grinned. “Whatever you say, Amunet-ya.”

#trafalgar law #one piece #anime / manga #heart pirates #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x oc

34 notes · View notes

anteroom-of-death · 4 years

Text

Life, for Dummies p1

a/n: plz love me and go easy. i haven’t written anything since dodos were alive....

You were new to the “fam”. The Doctor picked you up randomly like a stray. Not that you minded most days. It felt like transfering to a school in March: the middle of the semester. And much like high school, friends groups were already formed. Hell, you couldn’t believe that Yaz and the Doc weren’t slamming each other against the walls and making out running down corridors and such.

Graham especially treated you well. Like a pottering but wicked smart granddad. Ryan too, you could bond over basketball and other fun stuff. But still. A second out of step. Any time you had these thoughts, you shoved it down and cursed not totally growing out of your middle school “I’m not like other girls!” mindset. Which, what the fuck? You were a grown ass woman.

“Y/N?” the Doctor said waving a hand in front of you, snapping you from your reverie as you came to the present. You are on Gallifrey and there’s some psycho of the week- named the Master looking ferally at you all like he was planning what bathtub you’d wake up in with a kidney missing. You totally zoned out. The Wii Mii music might as well be what plays when you enter a room.

Shaking yourself you tried to size up the current threat. So- this is where the Doctor’s from? No bad considering it looked like a mix between Dresden after the bombing and Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It had lots of open fields. Big skies. Plenty of sunlight from two burning suns so no “When the street lights kick on, you come back in!” The image of a tiny little blonde baby-Doc bobbing around chasing space fireflies was cute.

Damn reveries.

“Be afraid Doctor!” He said five minutes earlier.

How could anyone be afraid of that. Sure when swapping past stories they told you he was crazy and killed people. The grunting he made coming through the portal was not something fearful. They were oddly sexual. The Doctor’s greatest enemy? Was right before you?

“I should have had more coffee!” You whined under your breath. Honestly. All this running, you didn’t know if you needed to mainline Folger’s or get one of those dorky water packs suburban white dads had for hiking.

This fucker grinned at that. “You’re funny!” He giggled pointing at you. Figures he had like, super sonic hearing. “You didn’t tell me you had funny little humans with you this time!”

“Hilarious dude! Can you even reach the shelves in the grocery store?” It was a pithy attempt at humor. The man had no right calling humans small.

He laughed and looked like he was debating killing you. He gave a resounding twirlin’ and then went onto monologue as if he were written by Joss Wheden. Mainly at the Doctor. But he kept glancing over at you. Yaz and Ryan were obviously acting on primal instinct of figuring how to take the Master down and Graham looked half bored. They’d met him before. Graham looked like he was just waiting for it to be done. Graham was chill. Reliable. He didn’t fly off the handle as much as the rest of you all. He was older. He was one margarita away from becoming a Parrothead. You liked that.

The Master’s glances felt disarming. Like he’d already seen you without your clothing. Not that it felt like a bad thing. He wasn’t unattractive as far as aliens went. Actually, kind of hot. The kind of hot you’d go for if it wasn’t for the fact he was massively evil, tried to kill all humans, and is currently being a bastard to your close friends. Something unique about his clapping. You did that when you were over excited.

He was dashing.

His eyes were large and just drew you in, mentally you knew every time he glanced over. Like he wanted to let you know it was for you and you alone. And he was fit, still soft. Something about the soft jaw, slight roundness to thighs and slight slouch of the tummy. The swagger and toothy grins? His skin looked soft and nice too. Crazy fashion sense. Maybe the inability to dress yourself was a Time Lord thing?

G-d, those lips, so round and full and a nice color. You shoved a thought about, other parts being that color away. Were you really here, having a team huddle, imagining the evil bad man’s cock? Desperation, party of one. You hadn’t been laid in a long time, but really?

“Y/N!” Yaz asked as you looked over and the Master smirked directly at you, like he knew you were trying to picture his cock at that moment. “What do you think?”

You groaned, “I don’t know!” your voice peaked a hoarse few octaves. The Master had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even touch you.

“He seems mega powerful.” You throw your hands out to exaggerate. He turned and pointed you out, “You have no idea what powers I have.”

“Man, shut the fuck up, or I’m gunna hit you.” You said plainly. Your eyes rolled back into your skull. You were suddenly your normal self again. He was just some dude, like any you’d see on the streets trying to undermine your confidence or get you to give him the time of day.

“No you won’t.” And he was right.

So you all just followed the lead of your fearless leader, the Doctor…

_________________________3 Weeks Later __________________________

You were back home. It was Corona Time. And definitely not the fun kind. You were worried absolutely sick. Was the Doctor alive? What about Gallifrey? What was all of that? So many questions raced through your quarantined mind. That and a few errant daydreams about the Master taking you with what you assumed had to be a massive cock. What was that overused phrase you’d seen the internet use? Big Dick Energy? The man had got to have had a set of cojones on him for the amount.

You couldn’t shake that son of a bitch from your mind.

He was hauntingly attractive. But evil. You were in a moral panic 24/7. You felt like those soulfully pained eyes followed you around your house all the time.

You were trying to focus on finding work from home jobs that were legitimate. You gave up your career to run around and play 5th wheel and now you were paying. Shelter inside? More like buying lots of unneeded skincare to fill a new void in you.

You were just ready to click “apply” on Indeed when those asthmatic engine noises started pounding in your yard. Was that the Doctor? Saving you from going insane and buying the 200 plus dollars in your cart on DHC’s webstore.

No, you didn’t see a kitschy blue box, but a stately match for your shed, but nicer.

Who should appear? But the rat bastard himself.

Boy, you were so screwed.

Suddenly he smiled politely and waved at you through the window. He pointed at your back door and was asking to be let in.

Cautiously you opened the window. “Go away, Master.”

“Is that polite to say? I’m your first visitor in weeks and you shove me-” He faux-shocked put his hand over his mouth “away?” You couldn’t tell if he was faking being insulted or for reals.

“I’d shove Timmy down a well if he killed my best friend and all her people.”

“Let me in, I just want to talk.” He opened his hand like he was caught red handed.

You slammed the window down harder than probably recommended. You felt the slam’s noise in your jaw. He’d get the message maybe. Or maybe you’d let him in and pin his ass to the living room carpet. Choices, choices. You went back and clicked ‘place order’, your bank account app dinged and said you had less than fifty dollars left. No one was going nowhere so it didn’t matter. You finished your tea in a few gulps. You made your choice.

Opening up the window, you shouted “Take off your jacket and place all of your weapons and your TARDIS key on the patio. Shoes too. Toss them into the Rose of Sharon.” You’d be damned if he was gonna kill you in your own house, surrounded by your own possessions, in your own damn town.

“What’s a Rose of Sharon Y/N?” He asked, genuinely confused. “It’s the dead bush that’s claimed the entire ramp up to my patio…” Sighing you pointed at it.

He giggled and obliged.

Always giggling.

He knocked as you were rooting for your sharpest whatever you could find. You opened the door and ushered him in. Almost comically, you began patting him down and weidling your weapon of choice. Excellent ass, you had to admit. Soft, yet firm.

“Having a good feel, love?” He asked as you were admiring it.

“Hey, you never know…” You off-brand sighed. He was nice to touch. It was addictive.

He paced around your home, looking at the photos of you and your family. The stack of bills in boxes, your life. Like he was examining art in a museum.

“I don’t appreciate you fondling my fruit.” You said when he’d made his way into your kitchen.

He grinned, “Isn’t it customary for you humans to offer a beverage or a snack to guests?”

Massaging your temples you handed him one of those nutri grain granola bars that crumble everywhere and a can of Coke.

“Not very much, huh?”

“There's a pandemic out there you dense motherfucker!” You shouted almost singing the words “pandemic” and “motherfucker”, throwing your arms upwards for examples.

You felt like you could swear around him. With the rest of your current social circle you felt like there was a PG-13 limit to your speech.

“Forgive me.” He rolled his eyes. Tit for tat matching you. He leaned heavy on his seat and opened up the can and drank politely. You almost believed him

“So why are you here?” sitting down across from him cracking your finger joints and wrists out of habit. “Run out of people to piss off in space?”

“Oh, always plenty there.”

You snorted.

“You seem very sure of yourself. Different from her other little pets.” He said. “Or, is it just a show…” He bore directly into your soul. “I’d believe it.” You glared at him, still holding your weapon, sure it wasn’t much. But to quote a legend “That’s my purse, I don’t know you!”

“You know what they say when you assume…” You put it out there.

“I don’t know!” He fumed on a hairpin notice. “Something about a donkey!”

“Relax, Jeeze.” You let out a nervous chuckle.

He grinned that megawatt, perfectly white smile with teeth better than most Hollywood actors.

“You’re bored.” He observed.

“I’ve been confined in my house for three weeks.” You stated.

“What if...you weren’t.” He weighed the words out. Almost physically with his hands. G-d those hands. How soaked in blood were they? But how dexterous were they? You swatted away thoughts of how nice they’d be buried in you, “Oy, gevalt!” You said. Noticing you had been staring at his fingertips for a second too long…

“You seem distracted...Is it me? Is the Doctor’s little pet wanting to try out some real leadership?” He mocked, but there was some other little tone to it. Care? Amusement? Yearning? A combination of all four? Who knows. You didn’t.

His eyes had the most whimsical gorgeous glow, and his eyelashes had the most attractive flutter.

“Ya caught me!” You barked with all the false sarcasm you could feign.

“Oh, I promise that I won’t blow up any planets, kick any orphans, wreck a ship carrying puppies and kittens for adoption... I’ll just show you the real way to see the stars. None of that running through corridors and fighting for your life. The way it should be seen.” He said, his nice waistcoat coated in crumbs.

“Or are you a coward? Afraid to see the other side of the coin? Y/N.” You were inherently a little bit of a coward. He crooked a crooked grin.

You pondered and helped yourself to an apple. Hoping that he’d see your teeth and that’d be another layer of “Don’t fuck with me, Please!” Though you desperately almost craved to be fucked with at this point.

You pause and consider this, is it betrayal? To follow your instincts and go off with a literal madman instead of your new “fam” because and called you on your self-sure bullshit?

“Is she alive? Is the Doctor alive?” You pleaded. A bit of tears threatening to come up.

“Yes, of course.” He assured you. It was very comforting. He slowly grabbed at your hand. “I may not be a man of a lot of truths, but I’ll tell you this. She always somehow comes out on top. It’s frustrating.” The warmth was real in his voice and in his eyes.

You closed your eyes and willed yourself sane. But the little nagging at your core said to. Give in, give up. Go with him.

“‘Kay.” You nodded. Suddenly sullen. “I’ll go.” The smile you gave was tired and you got up. You were almost shaking. He touched you and you came undone. This was not healthy. You’d blame the self-isolation, but deep down you knew it went deeper. Your jaw was trembling a bit. Self-preservation was gone.

You screwed yourself up again and poked a finger on his chest. “Try anything funny that gets me killed and I’m stabbing you.”

“No, you won’t.” This time, it was an order. An order wrapped in velvet and coated in chocolate.

You turned to go pack and he grabbed at your wrist. “No, you don't need that. I got a wardrobe department worthy of choice.” He grabbed at his shirt and brandished his look.

“Fine.” You said. So tired, but feeling more alive than you had in years at once.

Grabbing your hand and all his stuff out of your yard he pulled you into his TARDIS and it left. Off to the next….

#personal #i wrote this #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master #reader insert #doctor who #doctor who self insert fiction #fanfic #yes my life is a wreck #im a mess and i want to die a bit

74 notes · View notes

fightevilandthengetblownup · 4 years

Text

FIC: ‘Tis The Damn Season III

---

The slap of the base of her flip-flops against the bottom of her foot was mute under the sound of the music trilling through her ears while she lay out on the sun-warmed towel below her.

This was exactly the type of thing she never would have imagined during her life. When she was in the cold Winters of the European countryside, frozen ground baron and her stomach achingly empty. The wind would be knives of ice across her skin instead of the warm, salty breeze that blew through her hair now. The skies would be a grey, gnawing mouth denying the briefest glimpse of sunshine unlike the warm sun shining down on her now below a crystal blue sky. The sapphire blue ocean that stretched out before her was truly clear and beautiful compared to those plains of white. The girl who’s eyes drank in the sight as happily as she did was blessed to have grown up in such an area.

Though not with the same level of service, Ruby thought to herself as she raised a hand in the air and snapped her fingers in a sharp crack. Within a moment there was a cool glass placed at her finger tips and pulling the bamboo strawed drink down to enjoy the refreshing rum mojito, the demon smiled to herself as she could relax back. If dying twice was what it took to finally have her ideal life - or something like it - she wished she could have known that earlier.

Continuing to tap her foot in time with her music, the blonde sat her drink down before picking her notebook again. She might appear to be just writing a few ideas or working on some story, but the actual words were anything but. Detailed information, coded and recoded, translated and restranslated through several languages before the words would make any sense at all, on her darkest passages and some of the spells she was investigating at present that if anyone actually could understand the contents would make their hair curl. Just because it was the holidays didn’t mean the demon could stop working for her own happiness and freedom.

Sighing as a cloud crossed past the sun, Ruby let out a groan as the shadow didn’t seem to move after a moment. It took another minute for her to actually realise that it was the shadow of a person, and slipping her earbud out she growled pissily, “Hey, buddy, fucking move it.”

“Polite as always, darling.” The voice was completely unexpected but not unfamiliar, and slipping her sunglasses down her nose slightly, Ruby looked up in surprise to see a bemused smirk on the other being’s face. “Was I in your sun?”

“What do you think?” “Probably yes.” “Well then-” “Especially as I was in your sun.” “Mhmm…”

“Going to ask me to move nicely, gorgeous?” Gabriel quirked a brow up at her as he flung out a hand unseeingly and moved it back with a drink of his own in a wooden tiki glass, complete with vibrant umbrella and sticks of tropical fruit. “Or are you going to go for a little glare and pout today?”

It took another second as the blonde slipped her sunglasses on top of her head and titled her head assessing what options she had before waving a hand towards the empty sunbed beside herself.

“Perhaps the easier answer - sit your ass down if you want, pagan, or get out of my sunlight.” Ruby quipped back caustically, sliding her sunglasses off of her head and onto the small table between the chairs. “Do I even want to know what you’re doing in this neck of the woods this time of year?”

It didn’t surprise her to see the other move with a huffed laugh, before stretching out on the other sunbed with an ever present smile. Gabriel seemed far too at ease from what she could tell - the open shirt and tank top combination with the shorts and what looked to be truly horrendous blue and white flip-flops - and glancing around the way he melded in to the exact same style as every other man walking past along the sand felt hilariously in keeping.

“Well, you see, beautiful,” Gabe seemed to pause to himself for a moment as he leaned back into the other sunbed with a contented groan. Waving a hand about and another moment to himself for a sip of his drink, the flair for the dramatic wasn’t at all lost on Ruby as she tried not to let the corners of her lips twist in bemusement at the antics. “Why would I stay in North America or even more dismaly within the European areas when I could fly south for the winter and get an extra dose of summer?”

“A very good excuse, of course.” Ruby replied as she shuffled in her seat for a moment before letting out a sigh and shifting to lean on her hip facing the other rather than towards the umbrella above her. Chewing thoughtfully upon the end of her straw, she tilted her head thoughtfully before she eventually raised a manicured brow. “So - who are you avoiding up North?”

“Excuse me?” “A pretty story, sure, but which pagan got a bit too close to you, viking?” “I don’t know what you might be thinking-” “Of course not.”

“You really think you’ve got me pegged, don’t you Ruby.” The slight gravel in his voice caught her off guard for a moment as the crackle of electricity seemed to fill the humid air across the beach in waves. Looking over her shoulder, the blonde demon could see more than a handful of locals looking skywards - as if searching for gathering grey clouds that should have been there for such an atmospheric change but were nowhere to be seen in the bright blue sky above. Of course it suited the other to be here right then, where the air was thick like honey in the humidity and lent itself to the shifts of power that a trigger-happy anger response for such a powerful being could be. The unpredictability of the Queensland weather feeling in keeping with the new arrival. Gabriel’s jaw was set a little harder as she turned her face back to his, a darkness in his eyes that spoke to the little part of her that used to search out every weakness, every opening and every opportunity for manipulation that this was a dangerous game for a demon to be playing right there. “You think you can predict what I - the one who successfully impersonated one of the most famous Tricksters in the world for centuries - do and why?”

“Predict?” Ruby blinked her eyes as innocently as possible, wide-eyed and baleful, as she met his stare for a long hard moment.

She probably could predict his choice to flee to the southern hemisphere if she really tried. It was likely for the same reason she was as well. She could probably draw a conclusion right now, or follow her old tactics and slowly draw out his responses until she caught upon the right thread. She could probably just easily assume it was one of the normal troubles - family or romantic, given work didn’t quite cross her mind when thinking on what would ever trouble the carefree Pagan-playing man - and extrapolate from there. Ask who he was hiding from this time around. Which war or fight he didn’t want to be having that he flew the coop and found his feathered butt drawn to the warming sun and surf. Who he was trying to avoid the confrontation with as much as she was.

But that would be the old Ruby, she thought to herself with a small shake of her head. That was the Ruby that was all darkness and cruelty. The one that was the best and awesome and felt herself burning from the insides out as the blade ran right through her. That was even the Ruby that pressed a shoe against a poor innocent guy’s knee to force out from him that a woman made him happy. That was the Ruby that let herself get caught in deals she didn’t want to under the threat of yet another blade - one that would likely tear her apart that time - driven through her. That was the Ruby she’d swore not to be any more and was the one she’d left behind when she handed the bloody dagger into her fellow blonde’s hand with a smooth lie - the last one she intended to tell really. That wasn’t the new Ruby she was trying to be ever since she’d spotted the glowing warmth of a certain hunter’s existence into her world again.

Shaking her head again, Ruby glanced back towards him before batting her eyes more than a few times with the sweetest smile full of warmth and danger and daggers of white teeth as she looked back towards the far too serious look on the other’s face. “That’d suggest I know you any at all, Sir Loki-Like. I’d never dare to presume as much.”

“Really, madame, the cheek on you.” Gabriel had tilted his own head for a moment as he stared her down, and Ruby could see a tiny flash of that previous anger in the depths of his eyes before the good humor washed it away. The wicked smirk she got in return as the slightly electric feeling in the air faded back let her release a silent and invisible breath that had caught in her throat for a moment as the archangel arched a brow back at her in return. “Someone would think you’ve got a brain under that pretty blonde hair of yours.”

Ruby let out a responding laugh, tossing said hair over a shoulder for a second that would look flirtatious to any outsider and would be taken as such alongside a joke by the other. Shaking her head, she shrugged a shoulder before she finished the last of her drink and toyed with the straw. “Oh don’t go letting anyone know that there’s more to me than a pretty face, Gabe, or we both might just find ourselves in trouble.”

“Some very hot water-” “Exactly.” “Count me as mute then, gorgeous.”

The mutual grin of appreciation that both lounging beings sent one another was another point in Ruby’s mind for the disruption right now not being wholly unwelcome. Australia and the beach was fun and all, and time to herself to do some of her preferred focuses such as accumulating powerful defenses for herself and uncovering things others think too far hidden or too outlandish to be real was always a good time - but it did get dull being all on her own so much sometimes.

Last year she hadn’t been so alone. Her watching - that’s what it was, it wasn’t stalking, no matter what the object of her watching had to say about it - had paid off and she’d been able to spend a whole evening and night basking in a light even warmer and hotter and more fulfilling to the dark twisted thing that was her soul than even the sunlight above was. She had had a good Winter, especially when she’d managed a second full meal seated across from the long haired hunter, staring at the slopes of his cheeks and those honey speckled eyes that made her giddy. It had been a small space of time that she felt she could even possibly get close to something that was accepting company, but after the year she’d had since then - letting her secrets out and sharing what she probably shouldn’t’ve - Ruby’s winter had loomed cold and dark and as such the call of beaches and sunshine that might just maybe keep her warm like last year was the drawer. And yet alone on the sand and soaking in the suns rays was missing the good company to make it better.

As her mind whirled through her thoughts, Ruby found herself giving a long, deep sigh as she glanced across at the trickster looking at her with a mix of curiosity and bemusement as he finished off his own fruity drink. “Oh fuck…” Ruby mumbled to herself with a deep groan as she watched the other’s face break into a much much wider grin of amusement at her. Shaking her head, she rolled onto her back with another mute sigh, and then adding with a sideways glance. “So - what are we doing for dinner tonight, viking?”

The warm laugh she got in response as both of their drinks were refilled with a finger snap was answer enough for her that the presumption wasn’t wrong at all - if nothing else, she thought as she took a sip of her drink and reset her sunglasses back on her nose, she was going to have some excellent company again for a little while this year.

—

#cc #ca #rubypov

2 notes · View notes

monotonous-minutia · 4 years

Note

Second question: favorite non-trouser-role characters from ten operas you love and why?

...you know me so well that you would specify the question that way

In no particular order:

1-Figaro (Barbiere & Nozze) There's a bit of " 'nuff said" with this one but I'll say it anyway: he's so clever, resourceful, funny, and caring. He would be a great person to have as a friend. Even though he's supposedly motivated by gold in Barbiere, you can tell he genuinely cares about the others and wants to help Rosina and Almaviva get their happy ending. And in Nozze he's willing to go through a lot of trouble to help out the Contessa and Cherubino, even if it infringes on his wedding plans. He's so unflappable and ingenious, and (in good productions) very adorable. Also if I was a baritone I would want to sing all of his music. 2-Elizabeth (Don Carlo) She's such a strong person who goes through so much but manages to stay true to herself through it all, even though she can't get her own happy ending. I might be in love with her. 3-Rosina (Barbiere) Feisty, adorable, quick-witted, sharp, and defiant. One of my favorite operatic heroines in general. Breaks a lot of stereotypes. Also her music is amazing. 4-Nancy (Martha) Nancy is amazing. She's devoted, determined, clever, quick-witted, flirty, sweet, sassy, and she's a mezzo. She loves her Lady dearly and is willing to put her happiness aside in order to help her even though she's head over heels for her baritone. She never backs down or gives up even when the people around her are willing to. Her character development is great; their journey really opens her eyes to the world outside of her luxurious existence and she gains a greater appreciation for people who are "simpler" and learns to find the joy in everyday things. Even though most of this is overshadowed by the story of the soprano and her tenor we know it's going on. She gets some of the best lines (and lots of puns which sadly don't translate into English) and some of the best music (again, her duet with Plumkett kills me). If I was an opera singer I'd love to play her. 5-Carmen (Carmen) I mean who doesn't love a strong, independent woman with a wicked sense of humor and an amazing voice? 6-Iphigenie (Iphigenie en Tauride) In general I just love the mythology of this character--her backstory and her whole family history is super Messed Up in the Greek Myth tradition and she's like the only nice person in her whole family but kind of gets the worst of it all and yet somehow remains strong and pure. 7-Rodrigo (Don Carlo) I talk about this guy a lot I feel but in sum he's a great friend, super devoted to his cause (and his boy), very gay, and learns a lot through his journey and I am kind of a sucker for tragic baritones. 8-Nevers (Les Huguenots) I was going to say Valentine or maybe Raoul (who is one of my favorite Clueless Tenors) but the more I watch this one, the more I like Nevers. I feel so bad for him. At first I didn't like him at all but the more I read the libretto and watched the productions I've seen (though just the two) the more I started to empathize with him. See also: being a sucker for tragic baritones. 9-Olivier (Capriccio) I relate to this guy because I fancy myself to be a writer and also I am extremely awkward when it comes to flirting. 10-Papageno (Zauberflote) He's adorable. And funny. And sweet. And basically the show is about him. He just wants to be happy and settle down with his Papagena and have a family and in the end he really is willing to go to hell and back to get his happy ending. Plus he really cares about Pamina (and Tamino, even though he's kind of an asshole to Papageno).

7 notes · View notes

thepilgrimofwar · 4 years

Text

Business as Usual

The note was small, plain, the wax seal of the Crows the only thing that hinted at the true depth of the words within.

If I was you, I would search for new pockets and keep those not-expendable outside the walls.

“Now we wait. Not for a reply, but for what he does. Alynne, I want you and your team to watch the manor, make note of their patrols, number of guards, the usual. I want to know exactly what he does. Tyrelius isn’t stupid, but from what I hear he might be one of those honourable sorts, so we might have to do this the hard way.” Garris waved their sniper off as she sighed and took her leave, grumbling about having to miss the action.

Running a hand over the stubble on his chin, he turned to the three other women and the lad around the table with him, briefly contemplating making a harem joke and deciding against it, figuring that at least two of them might attempt a stabbing.

“Right. Elithys, that was your name wasn’t it? Once we figure out where’s the best point of entry, I want you to get us in. Preferably without alerting everyone in a five mile radius with a big fucking sign-” he lifted a finger when she opened her mouth to question him, “Your predecessor. Don’t ask.”

“Oookay then,” Elithys lilted, figuring it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. “But I hear you, I’ll get us in. Silently at that.”

Standing, he smoothed out the rather poor map on the table, more of a scribble really, hastily drawn by Solendis when it emerged that all the blueprints were kept in Kearn, far out of their reach. “If Tyrelius withdraws, we go by the fastest route possible, directly to what's-his-nut’s chambers. If not, blow up the garrison and we’ll deal with whoever survives that. Snatch and grab, though if Lirelle’s right more of snatch and shove. Might be the most exercise he’s had in a century.”

Vissehn leaned against the table, head canted as he watched Garris take point in the operation. The man was very chatty, a characteristic that endeared him greatly to the equally-chatty Hawk. Curling his lip as he listened to the plan, he tapped the parchment. “Oi, and where’s that leave me’n Our Lady of Carrion? Don’t leave me hanging.” He waggled his eyebrows, but there an actual focus to him that had been absent at the warplanning.

To be fair, he also looked more the part, out of the ill-fitting finery he had tried to wear out of politeness sake and back in his Hawk uniform; the crimson and cream suited him far better, and despite its bright colors, seemed to actually help the lad blend in. He could be any one of the many Hawks that made their way into this part of the kingdom, and nothing about him gave indication to his prowess at combat-- or his allegiances.

Garris swung over to face Vissehn, raising an eyebrow at Lirelle along the way as if to question where she had picked up the urchin. “We’re doing all the heavy lifting. One explosion isn’t going to take out all the mercs in there, and whatever house guards the man has. The ones on patrol or in the toilets will come running, although,” he scratched his chin, “We’re recruiting. Might be worth a shot, save a bit of blood on both sides even.”

He eyed the boy, even though anyone associated with Lirelle was able to hold their own like as not, he was just that, a boy. “Is there something in particular you’d like to do in this? You look fast, you reckon you could get inside and make sure that he’s safely stuck in his chambers until we collect?”

“I can get in anywhere.” Vissehn boasted, tossing his tousled hair out of his eyes. “I can get in, check the chambers, keep him there if necessary.” He scratched one finger over the hastily drawn map. “My issue is, do we know if he’s got his lads in the ROOM with him? If he’s got muscle in his bed, I dunno, whackin off, I’m gonna be in a sight more trouble than if he’s fondling his cock solo.”

There is a pause around the table as the four adults take a moment to fully digest what the youth was saying before loud laughter breaks out, Lirelle’s impassive visage even twisting into some semblance of a grin.

“I’ll go with you, don’t you worry dear. I’ll have a look round the door first so you don’t have to see anything improper, hm?” The blonde lady next to him spoke up, justling him lightly with her elbow. She followed her gentle words with a smile, genuine and soft, looking so out of place amongst the present company. “I’m Seria, my apologies for forgetting about introductions.”

“Nice t’meetcha, I’m Fish!” His voice was bright. “Or, Vissehn. But I earned Fish fair and square so I’m fond of it. An’ no worries about impropriety, I doled out mail in the Big City. I seen more flaccid dicks and magically pert tits than a brothel.” The laughter seemed to inflate the youth, and his smile was bigger and his pose jauntier than before. Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, he looked around the table. “Anyrate, nice meetin ya Seria, I foresee a blessed future for us in kidnapping fat men.”

Looking around the table, he slid a hand towards the map. “Any of you lot know the servantry in this heap? They’ll be the ones what know which ways the Lord’s likely to duck out if he senses the noose tightening, and are usually willing to part with that information nice like if you show them the door out of the mess afore it starts.”

“Well Fish,” begins Seria, “Normally I’d be the one to do that, but someone decided that our schedule was two days.” She flashes him a smile before turning to cuff Lirelle, the gesture full of almost sisterly affection.

“If I know anything about Garris, this is going to be right in the dead of night, and if our new recruit is as good as her reputation, he’ll barely have time to wake up, let alone try to slip out. Alynne and hers will have eyes on any exits from the manor anyway, and I’ve not seen her miss a shot. It’s a good suggestion though, if you ever want to do more than delivering letters you can come work with me, people with a quick mind are sometimes hard to come by.”

Elithys pulled her ears back. “I’ll let my work speak for itself when the time comes,” she says, looking at Vissehn. “But no complaints so far, if you’re considering it. The pay is good and the company is colourful.”

Vissehn grinned at the offer, swelled ego growing. “Well, I promised m’self to a little lordling for a space, but if’n he tires of me-- which he will afore long-- who know, I could kill kings for a time.” He scratched his throat consideringly before lifting his hands.

“You lot are the experts; I’ll do my part as best I may, and we’ll see this done yeah?” His gaze slid over each of the others, their certainty and casual professionalism leaving him without doubts. “Point yer Fish where it oughta swim and I’ll get there for ya.”

“Well, if we’re all up to speed on what we’re getting up to, make sure whoever you’re bringing with you is caught up as well. Once Alynne sends word, we move that night. We just need the way through the mountains from Lirelle’s other-” He cuts off as the door is flung open, the mess of brown curls now clothed in the colours of the Emberglades and not the peasant garb she had snuck in with.

“Everyone’s looking at me, did you all miss me that much?” With a cheery smile, Aravel made her way to the table, sweeping Garris’ map away and laying down her own and tapping on a spot behind the manor. “I talked to the others, there’s a tunnel that can spit you out right here. We have to start from inside Dawnveil itself, so I’d suggest we make our way there now and wait at the closest outpost. I’ll have to change again, so you all best appreciate the sacrifices I’m making for this. Guardians’ll be happy for the company, but they won’t ask too many questions. I will warn you that it’s a hard walk in the tunnels, especially the ones on their side. Always watch the person in front and the person behind, don’t make us hunt for stragglers. Me and Derrel will take you through and wait for your return. Sound good?”

As the rest of them murmured their assent, Garris leaned over to Vissehn, raising an eyebrow and stage whispering, “See, if you join us, you get to collect your very own harem. Perks of the job.” Immediately after the words left his mouth he cringed away, prepared for the inevitable retribution to follow.

And it did, first from the deceptively gentle woman, who flicked the tip of his ear, the snap of the impact followed by another one as Lirelle made contact with his shin. Aravel looked put out for a moment, then gave in to the joke after deciding that he wasn’t serious, and even Elithys managed to get an elbow in his ribs, before bursting out in laughter despite herself.

Vissehn glanced up at Garris as he was soundly reprimanded for his comment, and the wryness of his smile was matched only by the wicked gleam in his eye. “I’ll keep it in mind, looks like ye get all the best pleasures outa life with this pack of damsels.” He wagged his brow at them. “Every one of ye as delicate as a snowdrop, right?”

If it wouldn’t have ruined every part of who he was and had been, he would have added that Garris was still the only thing with a cock in the room. But even his terrible humor had to be overruled by the sheer desire to survive, and that’s what the mask-- gender-- was.

“But I gotcha, keep up with the herd and don’t wander off fer the wolves to pick off. I think I follow.”

The bickering group of them might as well have been the same age as the boy, for all they were behaving. It was at odds with what they were perhaps, more suited to a tavern than a discussion amongst professional killers. Aravel retrieved her map from the table, folding it up and tucking it into her belt. She leaned down to ruffle Vissehn’s hair on the way out. “Get your things packed and be back here when you’re ready. Wear something inconspicuous, we’ll be passing off as some of the last merchants into Dawnveil. I haven’t worked with that lot before, but from what I’ve heard from Lirelle, they’re the ones that’ll win this thing for us.”

@retributionpriest @stormandozone

#Epilogue #The Crows

5 notes · View notes