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op-peccatori · 5 years

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In Hushed Whispers | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Victor/Reader

Rating: 18+/Explicit/NSFW

Word Count: 5k

Summary: It started out as a mission, as a wicked game–and then things spiralled out of your control. With a past shrouded in darkness and a need to protect him, will you be strong enough to step into the light?

A/N: I’ve been daydreaming about a Black Swan!MC concept for so long and finally found the willpower write something for it. This was was supposed to be a lot cooler and hateful, but I’m not cool and it’s Victor XD MC’s a producer, but that’s more of a cover, or a surface job.

the title is a quest from DA: Inquisition! I don’t own it, or any of the characters from Mr Love: Queen’s Choice.

(warnings/tags below the cut)

warnings/tags: explicit sexual content, explicit language (mild), Black Swan!Reader, vaginal sex, oral sex, semi?-public sex, the answer is yes, goodbye black swan cuz that D is too good, too much talking (imo) during sex, slight spoilers for chapters 12-13? (and onwards)

It's clear enough to those look closely.

There was an undercurrent of tension in your interactions, in every traded look, in the eyes that tracked each other through the crowds around them. You can see the inquisitive looks they shoot your way, curious and envious, and you can't control the slight quirk of your lips.

You know what they’re probably thinking. They’re not wrong, but they aren’t quite right.

Even as you mingle with the crowd, greeting the elite of Loveland City with a bashful smile fixed in place, you can feel his gaze boring into the back of your head. For someone with such an impeccable poker face, he really isn't all that subtle.

'Or maybe it's just me.'

You barely stifle a grin at the thought, brushing back soft curls before glancing back over your shoulder once more. He stands there, just barely keeping up with the conversation taking place around him, his eyes smoky with discomfort and temper. A sly smile from you prompts him to finally tear his gaze away, and you turn back to the elder couple who had stopped you for a chat. They’ve been watching you watch him curiously, but they only smile knowingly when you give them your full attention.

"Father always spoke very highly of you, Mrs Waldorf," you recall fondly, the wistful twist of your mouth genuine. "He also said Mr Waldorf was quite lucky you found his attempts at poetry endearing."

"That brat was the one who helped me with them!" The mock offence in the elderly man’s tone had all three of you chuckling. You feel the weight of his gaze on you once more, and a flicker of wicked thrill unfurls in you. This conversation, with people who had so clearly been fond of your late father, isn't a forced one, and your smile is far from strained as you excuse yourself from it.

Your dress, sleek and sequined, sways around your legs as you work the room, avoiding people you're not quite in the mood to interact with, and him. It's not as if that you're afraid to face him, because that would be ridiculous; it's just that the thought of looking into those eyes would require acknowledging everything reflected in them.

Victor has never been one to shy away from confrontations, though, and although you have been expecting it with anticipation bubbling in your throat, your confident stride still falters when he steps into your path.

There’s a clear pause, a slight shift in the air between you as you drink in the sight of him up close. The strong lines of his well-built shoulders, enhanced by his perfectly tailored suit, the all too familiar patrician features set in smooth lines; the tie you had picked out for him yourself.

You hadn’t quite expected the way your breath catches in your throat.

"May I have this dance?" The deep timbre of his voice dissolves any protests you could muster up. You can’t say no, not without raising brows all around the room. You take his proffered hand with a faint smile, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor, all too aware of the people watching you.

There are mostly couples dancing here, you note, trying to keep your mind off the warmth of his hand as it settles on your waist, guiding you into a simple waltz. He's closer than is polite, familiarity and ease clear in his body language.

"Don't you think people might get the wrong idea?" you whisper, glancing up at him as he looks around, seeming to finally notice the others twirling and twisting across the marble.

Victor’s tightening grip on your waist is answer enough. The cut-outs on the waistline of your dress don't seem as cute now, with his thumb stroking your soft skin instinctively.

"You're being reckless." You don't keep the sharpness out of your voice as a frisson of unease begins to build in your chest. If anything, you'd thought he would do the smart thing and do his best to avoid you tonight.

"I didn't think I'd see you here tonight," Victor finally says, his expression clear and eyes glinting with danger.

"Anna couldn't make it." You shrug lightly; it's true enough, as the older woman had called you with sighed apologies and a lot of crying in the background. One of her kids was sick, and her wife was caught up with other work. "Why, aren't you happy to see me?"

His mouth purses at the feigned hurt in your voice, and he tugs you closer. You ignore the thrilled shivers racing up your spine as he leans in.

"Let me rephrase–I didn't think I'd see you ever again."

Your lips curl into something that almost resembles a smile. "Careful, there. It almost sounds like you didn't want to see me again," you tease, smirking at the way he pulls back to glower at you.

"So you are capable of logical reasoning. And yet, here you are."

"Here I am," you agree. You fall into an easy sort of synchronization, spinning around the floor with effortless grace. This isn’t your first time dancing with him, but it still makes your heart thrum with delight. "It's your own fault. You make it so hard to stay away."

He doesn't roll his eyes the way you know he wants to, his hand flexing around yours the only hint of his agitation, and your eyes dance wickedly at it. If you'd been alone, you have no doubt he would have you pinned against a wall by now.

"Your actions say otherwise," he mutters, drawing you away from the filthy route your mind had taken. "You just-" He cuts himself off, clearly unwilling to say more. But you know what he would have said, and you're irritated by the way your heart lurches painfully in your chest.

"I thought you needed time to process everything," you murmur, taking in the way his shoulders tense further. "To think things through." All the lies, manipulations and secrets. You remember his expression clearly, and how quiet he'd gone that night. Really, it’s a wonder he’s even speaking to you.

"There's nothing to think about. I've already declined the offer," Victor informs you frostily. You make sure to knit your brows at his words, forcing your lips into a strained smile. It's a nice touch, you think.

"It's an open one, there’s no expiration date. We're quite generous, don't you think?" You wonder if the words sound as bitter as they taste in your tongue. Generous is not the word you would use to describe yourself or your 'friends.' While it’s true that they’re reluctant to kill him because of his EVOL and influence, the option isn’t completely off the table, much to your personal displeasure.

"Quite generous. I'm afraid it's still a waste of your time, though. I won't be changing my mind." The firmness in his tone leaves little room for doubt, and you know he means it. But the people you work for haven't spent hours in his company, studying him, touching him, working with him, shivering at the things he whispered in their ears. They don't know how infuriatingly stubborn he is, and how deeply you admire him for it.

But what crawls from your heart and into your veins isn’t admiration, and it’s on that note that you decide you’ve put on enough of a show.

You slip your palm from his grip, stepping away from him as the progressively lighter notes of the song fade and your dance comes to an end. "Well, then, I think we're done here for now. I'll see you around, Mr CEO." Your smile feels syrupy in how sickeningly sweet it is, contrasting greatly with the yearning that twists your insides, demanding that you do whatever it takes to feel his touch once more.

With a quick wink, you spin on your heel and walk away, grabbing a flute of sparkling champagne off a passing waiter as you go.

‘That should be good enough to keep them off my back.’

You wait until you've exited the ballroom to drain the glass completely, leaving it on a table outside. You don’t think, sweeping past random corners until you're in a deserted hallway, the sound of your heart thumping madly blocking out most sounds, even of your heels clicking against the marble floor sharply.

Still, you hear the heavy footsteps as they grow closer, echoing in the empty halls. You're not surprised when a hand seizes your wrist, jerking you around to face the perpetrator. You glare at Victor even through the elated satisfaction coursing through you.

"We're not done." You should be more discomfited by his fury; instead, as it often does in his presence, a certain kind of hunger pools in your belly. His grip is unyielding, his determination even more so.

It makes you want to purr.

"Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have more to say?" you ask casually, eyes wide and breath hitching when he squeezes your wrist tighter. His steps closer in response, moving into your space and prompting you to back up until your back hits the wall. Your senses are overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne, his warm breath tinged with alcohol, growing heavier as he struggles with his words. The space between you is negligible and all the confidence you'd adorned yourself with before coming here seems to have fallen somewhere.

“A thing or two, yeah.”

Victor tugs at your wrist, pulling it up to press it into the wall above your head, his touch gentler as his thumb rubs the skin over your racing pulse. He takes your other hand in his free one, pressing his lips to your wrist as you watch, skin tingling pleasantly. He pushes it to join its captive counterpart, pressing them into the wall with one hand while the other comes to rest on your hip.

"For someone so prone to running, you seem to be doing rather well in this position," Victor murmurs, lips hovering over your ear as you try to maintain control over your expression. He has you trapped, and you've never felt more on edge and desperately turned on.

"You make an enticing captor." He's got you, but you could get out of this position if you really tried. That makes you think he's not really trying. Does he have more questions? You can't think of any you would want to answer here, where anybody could stumble across you, which begs the question: what does he want?

Victor's lips press into the skin behind your ear and your stomach tenses.

"That didn't stop you the last time." He traces the shell of your ear with the tip of his tongue, his nose brushing your temple as he inhales deeply. “You vanished into thin air.”

"For someone who doesn't want anything to do with us, you sure seem to be complaining about being left alone a lot," you taunt. But you deflate when he doesn't rise to the bait, only pulling back slightly to observe you. You’re close enough to count every single one of his thick lashes, to see the tiny mole on his right earlobe. There is none of the hate you've been expecting, not a hint of the fury you'd glimpsed earlier. It leaves you scrambling because you don't know what to expect now.

"I don't want anything to do with them," he agrees, pressing his forehead to yours. Something in your chest trembles at the action and you feel so raw, so vulnerable, you don’t know what to do with it. "I never said anything about you."

"I-if you refuse them, you refuse me." His lips brush yours and you realize he doesn't have to use force to keep you here after all. "We're kind of a package deal."

"Are you?" Uncertainty sprouts in your mind at the way he smirks, as if your words amused him. "It didn't seem like it when we were together."

You can't bring yourself to respond; you begin to struggle against his grip, but he pushes his hips into yours, pinning you in place. He’s too close, and it’s messing with your head. It would be so easy to just give in, to sink into him and let him in. You want it so badly it frightens you.

"In fact, it almost seemed like you were happy to forget all about them. Isn't that why you never even attempted to convince me to join them?"

Them, them, them. But he was right. You had known, within a few weeks of your acquaintance, that Victor would never join Black Swan. You had convinced yourself that growing closer to him was the smart thing to do. It was the classic seduction. He's stubborn, but he's loyal.

It's just that once you got a taste of it, you wanted to keep that loyalty for yourself and not share it with anybody else, least of all your charming colleagues. Your greed had won out over everything; with every meal he cooked you, with every scathing word followed by encouragement, with every warm kissed pressed to your fingertips and the arches of your feet–you were in too deep, and you still are, and you’re still fucked.

It had been a happy dream while it lasted, but you had to come back to reality eventually. Could you really give everything up for this man?

The answer scares you, it’s implications terrifying and Artemis was right, you are an idiot.

"Do you understand now?" he whispers, lips dragging along the length of your jaw, your eyelids fluttering at the way he nips at your skin.

"I do." It tastes like defeat, like something broke and you're choking on the pieces, but you get it out. For him, you’ll swallow every bitter piece. It's not the pleasant realization they write about in books. "I'll...I'll let them know your answer won't be changing."

He pauses. "And?"

"And I'll stay away. I won't bother you again." The words are said so quietly you wonder if he even heard them, something in you wilting as you say them; you get your answer when Victor begins to laugh–at least that’s what you think he does. Now this, this strikes fear in your heart because it's not the startled laughter you pull out with silly words, no. This is a breathy sound edged with jagged fury–it's caustic and you feel his chest vibrate with it as he nearly collapses against you, chuckling like you've said something stupid and for once, he doesn't find it cute.

"Stay away? y/n," he stops laughing abruptly and bares his teeth at you in a very unsettling attempt at a smile, "you're a fool if you think I'm letting you walk away from me tonight."

For a moment, there's a strange buzzing in your mind. Your emotions pull you in different directions. A part of you wants to rip into him, to make him bleed and show him what you do to people who threaten you. Another, bigger, part of you wants to moan and plaster yourself to his side and beg him to say that again.

All you really do is stare at him, speechless.

"And they're fools if they think they can take you away from me," Victor adds, and crashes his mouth against yours, hungry and careless with it. Once again, in a concerning trend, any resistance you wanted to play at dissolves. It’s not gentle. You squirm against his grip on your wrists, trembling with the need to run your fingers through his dark hair and hold him against you. You moan when his tongue brushes yours, wiggling until you feel and hear the amused sound in the back of his throat before he releases you.

It's easy to twist and manoeuvre your bodies until you're pressing him into the wall, rising on the tips of your toes to lick into his mouth fervently, reacquainting yourself with the taste of his tongue.

It's a little too easy to lose yourself in his touch, to let everything else fade and fill your senses with just him.

His hands smooth down your back to cup the swell of your ass, pulling you flush against him. Almost every inch of him is pressed against you and you’re starving, with a terrible ache that weeps for him, and a part of you curses him for ruining you. Your blunt fingernails curl into his hair, digging into his scalp, and you will never get enough of the little groan he lets out.

Your hands rove across his torso greedily, your teeth sink into his lip and your breath stutters when you feel his hardness pressing against your stomach.

You freeze, shaken by how completely you lost your composure, and with the way Victor seems to be smirking you know he’s thinking along the same lines. His tousled hair and blown out pupils are an effective deterrent against the part of you that thinks this is a terrible idea; your hair is wilder than it had been before Victor got his hands in it, your lipstick smeared over your mouth and his.

“Come home with me, y/n.”

A tempting offer. You glance behind you, peering down the dark hallway. You don’t think this fear will ever leave you completely, of looking into the darkness and wondering who’s watching you from within.

You know what happens to those who stray. Helios is the greatest example of it, and you firmly steer your thoughts away from that particular pit.

“I took a different route. They didn’t see me," he nuzzles the juncture of your neck before sinking his teeth into soft skin.

You're mortified by your startled yelp, and can't help but look back again reflexively. “They're not here. I wouldn't put you in that position."

You snort, but the effect is ruined by the soft moan you let out when he soothes the stinging skin with his tongue. "I didn't think you cared."

“Wouldn’t be the first time you were wrong,” he retorts, not missing a beat, his fingers massaging the base of your scalp while the other draws nonsensical patterns on your waist. Although you know he meant what he said, with how handsy he’s being it’s clear Victor’s going to be difficult about this; he wants you in his bed tonight.

'And many other nights, apparently.'

You’re more than a little unnerved by the sheer warmth that sends through you.

“Is it just the sex?” you ask carefully, locking eyes with him, battling with the urge to blush at the way he’s looking at you.

“No.” He doesn’t even pretend to think about it, doesn’t consider anything other than the simple truth. He doesn’t say another word, but his eyes were always his most expressive feature–along with his hands.

You nod slowly, because as delightful as that is, you’re not ready to dig deeper. Into his feelings or yours. And you have no idea what to do here; you've lost control over your own actions. You know what the smart thing to do would be–but that would result in losing Victor. For good. There is no part of you that finds that acceptable.

Or you could continue the mission. Get close to him. Keep trying to convince him. It’s unlikely he’ll change his mind about that but it’ll give you time.

“This is a terrible idea,” you say anyway, because you should at least try to put a stop to it. You can’t believe you’re trying to be the sensible one in a situation that involves Victor Li.

He flicks his tongue against your bottom lip, swift and teasing. “I don’t give a fuck.”

‘Seriously, who seduced who here?’

You lace your fingers through his, stepping away and pulling him along hurriedly. It would be best to continue this in the bedroom, for now. Just for tonight, you'll do what he wants. You'll do the smart thing later.

But, as is apparently the recent trend in your life, your plans don’t quite work out.

It wasn’t your fault, as your teasing was mostly innocent while Victor drove at uncharacteristic speeds. Just a squeeze of his thigh, a few careless whispers of how much you had really missed him. Hiking your dress up and letting out a loud mewl when he cupped your clothed sex possessively.

You end up in an empty parking lot near his building; with his suit jacket thrown onto the back seat, you sprawled over it, your mouths meeting frantically as he pushes the hem of your dress up until it bunches up over your waist. He shifts back, opening the door and stepping one leg out, the other folding on the floor of the car.

The cool breeze has goosebumps erupting all over your skin; you shiver from it, and the way the moonlight highlights his dark hair and torrid gaze.

Warm hands curl around the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the seat, and you let one foot drop to rest on the floor as he watches in approval. The other is pushed up into your chest, leaving you spread shamelessly for his consumption.

Control was never really an option, you had realised sometime when his hands had slipped beneath the edge of your dress to rub your cunt through your soaked panties, which now hang precariously from one ankle. He knows where to touch you, and you know it’s only been a few months, but it still brings a stinging feeling to the back of your eyes.

You’re desperate to feel his mouth on you, to work you open with his talented tongue; his lips find the tender skin of your inner thighs instead, kissing and sucking blushing tokens of his affection across them. You twitch and moan as he fixates on this, his possessiveness clear in his actions, and a distant part of your mind thinks it’s not going to be as easy as giving yourselves this one night.

Its voice is suppressed by a long, languorous lick along your slit.

‘Oh-‘

“Fuck.” Your back arches as he presses the flat of his tongue against your clit and a steady hand on your folded knee pushes you back down. He laps at you with a zeal he only ever displays when his head is between your thighs, his mouth slurping every drop of your arousal, and you writhe beneath his touch, failing to suppress your moans.

A hand reaches for the edge of the seat, clutching it for dear life, while the other slides into his silken hair as you rock your hips into his mouth with an urgency that takes over every part of your brain.

He works you closer to it, swirling his tongue around your swollen nub; your gaze is unfocused, all you need is to reach the edge, and if he groans like that again you might just come-

A pitiful whine escapes you as he pulls back, his smirking mouth glistening with your arousal you tug at his hair insistently. Your angry motions still when he reaches for the buckle of his belt, sliding the accessory out of the loops.

Before he can even think about tying you up, you snatch it out of his hands and throw it behind you. It hits the door with a sharp clack that sounds jarring in the silence of the car and its surroundings.

He climbs over you carefully, keeping one foot on the floor of the car while the other leg comes to rest on the seat. It’s a tight fit, and you could giggle at how he moves around so cautiously to avoid bumping his head on the ceiling. He reaches for his zipper and your amusement flees quickly as you reach out and shoo his hands away eagerly.

Your teeth dig into the pale expanse of his neck as you pull his straining cock out, wrapping a hand around its base, pumping it slowly; he doesn’t even attempt to control the mouth-watering groans escaping his mouth, his hands braced against the seat on either side of your head.

Stopping was never really an option either, you acknowledge, as you tease your slit with the swollen head of his cock, your lips parting with anticipation. His shirt is unbuttoned halfway, tie hanging loose, marks peppered over his chest, his dark hair in disarray.

You try to maintain the eye contact as you guide his cock through your entrance, engulfing it with your heat, walls clenching around him as your head tips back involuntarily. It’s one of the best sensations in the world–feeling Victor’s cock push through your tight cunt, and you wouldn’t give him up for any power in the world.

Victor leans in, slotting his mouth over yours, a hand urging your knees up while the other tugs the straps of your dress down, baring your breasts. His hand, warm and trembling ever so slightly as he bottoms out, cups your breast gently, thumb stroking over a taut nipple.

As you try to get him to move, he stops you, keeping you still as his fingers dig into your skin.

“V-Victor?” You wiggle your hips and he squeezes your breast firmly, as if warning you to cease your attempts. “Wha-“

He shushes you quickly again, pressing his forehead to your shoulder; you’re quite annoyed for just a second and then you notice the tension coiled in his muscles as he tries to keep his bearings; he moves his hand from your skin to the headrest, knuckles white from his right grip, to keep from drilling into you violently and ending this quickly.

You card your fingers through his hair before tugging on it, until he lifts his head so you can kiss him sloppily. He relaxes as you wrap your arms around him, holding him close for a moment as you place one last kiss on the corner of his mouth, nuzzling his cheek soothingly.

“There were moments,” Victor begins, hoarsely and slowly, “when I thought I would never get to feel this again.”

He presses his lips to your forehead.

“It was foolish, because I knew you would come to me eventually. But I was forced to acknowledge that there was a chance that my rejection had...consequences I would rather not think of.” He looks down at you, a tiny smile dancing along his lips. “So, please, y/n–” Don’t leave. Don’t run. Stay.

You still, meeting his gaze, pained and unwavering in it–and it hurts. It hurts so deeply you can’t breathe for a moment, because he’s letting his guard down and letting you see how much you hurt him. All those games, all those moments spent cursing yourself for falling so hard–it was real for you, but it was real for him too. And maybe he’d known who you were from the start, or maybe he hadn’t; your mission had hit a roadblock once he found out, and you’d taken that chance to disappear, to pretend you were reevaluating things. You thought the distance would do your aching heart some good while BS decided whether further pursual was required.

You’d never thought, even for a moment, that he would want you to stay.

Victor doesn’t resist when you push him back, watching as you slip out of your dress and drape it over the front seat, until he’s sitting with you in his lap, holding on to you as you reach for his cock and sink down over it. With your hands braced against his chest, you begin a slow grind against his pelvis. Your lips twitch with the urge to smile at Victor's near blissful expression, his hands stroking along your waist and thighs fervently.

You can't help but lean over him, one hand coming to rest on the seat, smiling slightly at the way his lips part as you lift your hips and drop down, repeating the motions languidly. You press a kiss to his cheek, and another, repeating the action all over his face until he catches you in a kiss that has your heart throbbing harder.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, a flush riding high across his cheeks. You clench your walls around him and his hips buck involuntarily, prompting a quick glare from him. “I never meant t-to leave like that.”

"Or take your sweet time to come out of hiding?" he mutters, and you laugh shakily, kissing the top of his head. “Ah-don’t laugh. I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“I’m good at hiding,” you quip with a breathless smile, rocking your hips faster, now determined to see him in pieces underneath you. His hands hold onto your hips just as you get into it, keeping you from moving faster, and you nearly hiss at him in your frustration.

"Just don’t hide from me.” His eyes glitter dangerously, daring you to argue.

"Don’t give me a reason to,” you snap, only for your scowl to be wiped off your face when his hand wraps around your throat, yanking you forward until you're eye to eye.

"I will never give you a reason to leave me," he promises darkly, squeezing until a strangled protest escapes you. “I take care of what’s mine, sweetheart.” He doesn't release you, adjusting his body beneath you until he gains a solid foothold, and within the next second he's snapping his hips up into yours, all traces of gentility vanished.

Your eyes roll back, skin flushed and sweating; with every thrust, he seems to be obliterating your entire thought process. You meet his unwavering gaze, your eyes teary as you try to match his pace; you watch him soften slightly, only for him to tighten his grip on your windpipe and reach between your bodies with his free hand.

Bright spots start to appear on the edges of your vision. Your head starts to feel light and a part of you is once more delighted by the practised way his fingers work your clit–and then you stop thinking. For a long moment, you're floating, drifting, quaking, and then you tune back in time to see Victor's pace start to falter, hand unwrapping from around your throat, his eyes alternating between unfocusing and staying fixated on you as he bounces you in his lap.

He spills into you with a throaty groan, unaware of your hungry eyes committing the sight and feeling to memory. He pulls you in, holding you close, and you sag against him tiredly.

His thumb strokes the tender skin across your throat in a silent apology as you both lay there panting, your head falling to rest on his shoulder as you relax completely. It terrifies you, letting your guard down so thoroughly when you’re not even in his bed. It’s just for a moment, though. You want to give yourself this moment to relax.

“It’s not going to be easy,” you murmur because you’re a fool who can’t relax when there’s danger lurking in every corner.

He hums, in agreement you think, tugging his jacket out from under him to wrap it around your shivering form. He reaches for the door, pulling it shut as you wonder how you’ve been here for this long without getting caught. “We’ll deal with it. Whatever comes our way.”

There’s a lot to consider, a lot of plans to be scraped and a lot of people to be contacted. But sitting here, in the silence of his car with his arms tight around you, you think you can do it. You think it might just be possible to protect both of you from Black Swan.

And if not you, then him. Because just as he can’t let you go, you can’t let them sink their claws into him. You’ll destroy every single one of them before that happens.

‘Guess I really am a fool.’

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mlqc smut #mlqc li zeyan #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #time for dinner really hope i edited out enough typos

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thewritewolf · 5 years

Text

Nino’s Quest Chapter 6: Out of the Woods

The true struggle of DnD - getting the party together for a session. Not at all helped by magic terrorism attacks.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3. My ko-fi.

--- October 15th ---

Lord DM: Hey dudes, we still on for today? Since its been like two hours I’ll guess that was a no then

Adrien Regreste: sorry dude. Got roped into a last minute photoshoot :(

Marinoodles: same Wait no I mean- last minute bakery stuff Sorry to bail like this! D:

Alya’ll Beware: Don’t worry about it girl I was chasing that akuma that was running around It kept giving lb n cn the slip Got some good footage tho

Lord DM: Bummer dudes Guess thats one of the perks of living in paris We can try again next week, k?

--- October 18 ---

Direct Message From Alya

Alya: These akumas have been crazy, babe. Rain check on dates? At least until hawkbutt tires himself out

Nino: :( Can’t you take a break or two? You don’t have to be on the frontlines of EVERY akuma attack

Alya: …

Nino: [crying emojis, broken hearts, butterflies with red X’s over them]

Alya: alright, alright But just two, okay? People count on me for the latest news

Nino: totally, babe Just hope lb+cn won’t need rr+cara Cuz… you know That’d be rough

Alya: [eye rolling emoji] Yeah yeah I feel bad for them tho Their social life must be wack at this point

---October 22nd---

Lord DM: Hey, bro, we still meeting at your place or what? ??? Come on, dude! Not again! :(

Adrien Regreste: Sorry dude [sobbing emoji]

Alya’ll Beware: Akuma, babe. Can’t miss three in one week!

Lord DM: Yeah… guess so. Let’s just not miss the next sess, okay? I dont want this campaign to end

Alya’ll Beware: We’ve only missed two weeks so far. That’s not too bad We got pretty lucky with getting five in a row Esp considering how busy we usually are

Lord DM: Fair enough Next week sound good?

Alya’ll Beware: Should for me

---October 31st---

Lord DM: Im scared to ask but… DnD today?

Adrien Regreste: [thumbs up] I’ll be going on 4 hours of sleep But I can do it!

Marinoodles: Same here Lack of sleep and all

Alya’ll Beware: Yeah We good

Adrien Regreste: !!! Wait its actually happening Awesome! ...I should probably clean my room.

Marinoodles: XD Probably! :P

Adrien Regreste: :3

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An hour later and Nino had made the trip over to Adrien’s house, Alya and Marinette in tow. Their chatting had been less energetic than usual, no doubt because there wasn’t a single person among them who didn’t feel exhausted. A fact that wasn’t at all helped by the late hours that they were arriving at. It may have only been nineteen hundred hours, but when you’d only had a few hours of sleep each night for the past week, it made all the difference in the world.

Despite all that, they were determined. The very thought that they were willing to go through all this just to go further in his campaign was thrilling for Nino, and he didn’t want to let them down.

A wicked grin, looking out of place on him, stretched across his face. With the events he had planned for tonight’s session, he was sure they’d be awake in no time.

They entered Adrien’s room and saw the bounty of sugary treats and caffeine that their host had prepared. After some brief chit-chat, Nino got set up quickly and rolled right into the session. The longer he delayed the more likely it was that his players would fall asleep.

“The forest at last thins as you crest the top of a hill. From your vantage point, you can see the capital city on the horizon.” There were sighs of relief around the room.

“Finally! My character could definitely go for a proper bed after a week of roughing it,” Marinette said after taking a drink of pop.

“You’ll have to hurry, then. The sun is going to start sinking below the horizon. Unless you want to be stuck outside the city until morning, you’d better get moving.”

“My bard starts one last travel song as we rush over.” Adrien opened his phone, no doubt to a lyrics site and cleared his throat.

Alya quickly covered his mouth. “I do not have the time or patience to listen to another of your renditions of Take Me Home, Country Roads, Sunshine. Let’s just get to the city, alright?” Adrien’s eyes darted to Nino in a silent plea, but he simply shrugged.

“Sorry, dude. Babe has a point.”

Pouting, he closed his phone. Beside him, Marinette giggled and patted his back consolingly.

“You reach the city gates without any issue - no bandit or monster is stupid enough to get within stones throw of the capital, not with all the guards on patrol. They were a little suspicious to see you guys so late at night, but… two noble sigils, a bardic license, and my holy symbol put those dudes right at ease. There are still a few rooms open at the inn - how are you guys going to divvy up?”

A trio of blank stares looked back at him. He sighed.

“Each room costs money to rent. You don’t have a lot, so while you could get a private room for each of you, it’s probably better to room with someone else. So who is spending the night with who?”

“Dibs on the cleric!” Alya cried. She tapped her chin theatrically, “I guess that leaves you two together, right?”

“I- I guess so?” Adrien blinked, surprised at Alya’s sudden outburst. Marinette paled a little but nodded.

“Since you guys arrived so late, most of the rooms were already filled up and you had to make do with what you can get. When you finally find your rooms, they are across the inn from each other… and there is only one bed in each room.”

A slight blush, but neither Adrien nor Marinette were freaked out. Alya slumped in defeat - there wasn’t any roleplaying involved in sleeping after all. Unless they decided to do some method acting and have a sleepover.

“The four of us drift off to sleep, which was a totally great change of pace from the creepy woods that you’ve been sleeping in for a week now.” Nino punctuated his words with a yawn that proved contagious. “It was way late at night when suddenly… M, Adrien. Roll for perception.”

Adrien, naturally, rolled a one. Just when Nino was scared he’d accidentally killed them off, Marinette pulled through with a high roll. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“With your keen elven hearing, the creaking of the wooden floor boards was enough to jolt you from sleep. There is a glint of metal above you, and you feel a presence in the darkness. You have just a few seconds to react - what do you do?”

“I roll over!” Marinette blurts out, her eyes wide.

Nino nods. “Right, that puts you right on top of Adrien, who is now totally awake too. It was a good move, though - a knife plunges into the mattress, right where your neck had just been.”

All business now, Marinette asks, “What can I see?”

“Not much. Loose cloaks with hoods pulled up. Knives. Two people. The other person has stumbled back, probs spooked by your sudden movement.”

She taps her chin before her eyes widen again. “Wait, what about the others?! We have to go get them! Or at least get their help.” She shuffles through her character sheet. “Okay, um… I whisper to Adrien in Elvish ‘close your eyes’ and then I toss a flash flare thing at the guy.”

Nino rolls some saves - without the warnings, neither of them stood a chance. He looks up to see Marinette watching him with hopeful eyes. “You got ‘em, M. Now what?”

“I roll off the bed and try to take the guy’s knife.”

“You’ve got it and your turn ends there. The dudes are blinded, but it won’t be long before they’ve recovered. Adrien?”

“Can I cast a spell?”

“Not without your lyre, bro.”

“Fine, fine. I grab it off the bedside table.”

“And why do you think it’d be there?”

“...I’m a bard. Gotta be ready to play, first thing in the morning.” Adrien smirked.

Chuckling, Nino replied. “Alright, fair. What do you cast?”

Adrien stuck out a tongue as he thumbed through his spell list. His eyes lit up as he looked at Nino. “I cast summon monster one, and I summon the Good Boy.”

“Right,” Nino said as the others giggled. “So you’ve got your celestial dog next to you. I figure you want it to attack one of the dudes?”

To his surprise, Adrien shook his head. “No, I command him to go wake up the other two. Probably to go sit by their door and bark in a commanding angelic voice.”

The fight didn’t last long from there - the two of them probably would have been enough to deal with the assassins after they lost the element of surprise. But four against two made it a landslide victory.

“Even though you try your hardest, you weren’t able to catch either alive. One got stabbed and bled out and the other, well… hopefully the innkeeper will understand that it wasn’t your fault that the window got broken.”

“Do they have anything on them?” Alya crossed her arms. “I get the feeling someone is after us.”

“You’re immediately proven right when you find a note in the dead guy’s pocket that reads, ‘Information about the Necromancer cannot reach the king. Dispose of the adventurers before they get their audience.’”

The party exchanged looks.

“Spooky,” Adrien said flatly. The others nodded in agreement.

“Do I recognize the handwriting or anything?” Marinette leaned forward, the gears in her head turning. “Remember, I am a court brat.”

“Nope. Looks like it was written deliberately poorly. You don’t know if you’d recognize it normally.”

“Time for the king?” Adrien perked up.

“Yup, it’s time for-” Nino was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.

Adrien gulped. “Um… hello?”

Nathalie stepped into the room and narrowed her eyes at the dice and character sheets. Belatedly Nino remembered that Adrien usually claimed they were working on a project or homework during these sessions. “It is late. Your friends need to leave.”

Without a choice in the matter, they packed up and had the door shut behind them.

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Nino’s fears were confirmed later that night during a discord chat.

Adrien Regreste: Sorry guys. Looks like we won’t be able to play at my house again Not for a while at least. :(

Lord DM: Don’t worry about it bro Had to happen eventually

Marinoodles: I’m so sorry! :( I hope you didn’t get in trouble because of us

Adrien Regreste: Nothing more than usual They aren’t threatening to keep me locked up at home So, you know Better than usual

Alya’ll Beware: That’s something at least R they going to let u hang out again?

Adrien Regreste: *shrugs* Probably. Anyway… Sorry to be a bummer. Night, everybody!

Marinoodles: Sweet dreams!

Alya’ll Beware: Night, kiddos.

Lord DM: Don’t let the assassins bite! ;) [Three thumbs down, one angry emoji]

#Miraculous Ladybug #Nino Lahiffe #Alya Cesaire #DJ Wifi #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #Dungeons and Dragons #DnD #D&D #ml fanfiction #my writing #Nino's Quest

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missbitchwitch · 7 years

Text

A Princess Peach Story Chapter 1

Jr could see the castle looming right in front of him, the massive doors were almost within reach. His tiny legs were so weary from running down the main road toward the castle, he didn’t have his clown car papa gave him for his birthday. He couldn’t risk Kami catching him after she forbade him from leaving he castle. His shell felt like a thwomp was sitting on his back, but he kept running. He was tough just like his papa.

He was able to reach the Mushroom Kingdom on his own thanks to his lakitu friend, but if he knew one thing for sure Kami would find him soon enough, the old hag koopa was alot craftier than most people knew. And if his poppa ever found out, he knew he would get roasted for sure but he had to see his momma.

Jr was so focused on his destination, he never noticed the citizens of the Mushroom Kingdom poke their heads out from their homes. Koopas were bad news in the Mushroom Kingdom, Bowser Jr being almost as awful as his father. The toads were in a panic, if Jr was here then something bad was going to happen. It always did. But this time instead of their usual panic,each toad grabbed the nearest rock, stick or stone and bore down on the child.

Jr huffed in relief as he entered the castle grounds, he slowed his pace to catch his breath. He managed one lung full when pain exploded on the back of his head, knocking him to the ground with a cry. The boy squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and when he opened them the frightened and angry faces of the toad people surrounded him. “Why are you here?” they shouted. “You’ve come to take the princess again haven’t you?!” “No! well.. I mean.. I just really need to talk to my momma.” “Stop calling her that monster! She is not your mother!” one shouted. “Thats disgusting,” another one sneered. “Hes going to take the princess again! Well we aren’t gonna let that happen anymore. Get him!”

The toads begin to pelt the boy with their rocks and sticks, some bouncing harmlessly off his shell but others finding there marks on his softer scales. “Ow! Please stop! I just wanna see my momma!” he cried, but all that seems to do it infuriate the toads further. Jr is scared, he doesn’t want to fight the toads, He knows if he hurt them his momma would be sad. Unlike his papa he doesn’t like to fight. He prefers his tricks he plays instead. He cant even scare the toads away because he isn’t old enough to use his fire breath yet. Right now he wishes he could be strong like his papa. He shrinks slowly into his shell, whimpering, calling out for his momma. In his last attempt, does what his father would do, what the King of Koopas would do. He takes one deep breath, holds it like he’s seen his poppa do and bellows,”MOMMA!!!!”

Peach enters her gardens and basks in the warm sunshine. All day she had been in meeting after meeting until she thought her brain would melt. She had all she could stand for the day and made up a weak excuse to Toadsworth about feeling faint. The frail princess act did come in handy once in a while because Toadsworth called an end to the days meeting until she felt well again. She would feel well if she never went to another meeting but in the end it was for the good of her people so she didn’t mind too terribly. Now that she had the day to herself, she wanted just that. Time to herself, no meetings, games, events. Just her and the sunshine. Luckily she had no social calls to make. The Mario Brothers we off on another quest in Daisy’s kingdom, and knowing Daisy she would try and keep the younger brother with her for sometime. At this she had to smile, those two were so smitten with each other…unlik-

MOMMA!!!!

Peach stilled, she knew that voice. A distinct roar just like his fathers. Bowser jr! she gathered her skirts and takes off at a run. As fast as her heels will allow her. The cry came from the front of the castle and as she rounds the castle walls she sees a mob of her citizens. All of them like she has never seen them. Angry, shouting, and in such a frenzy.Her height allows her to see over most toads and what she sees chills her blood. In the center of this mob is a large green koopa shell surrounded by rocks and sticks. The violence alone is enough to scare her but this shell is special. Very few koopas have spiked shells and none that are that size and color. Its Jr.

He’s tucked in his shell, the gleaming spikes facing upward challenging anyone to get close to those wicked points. Some citizens noticed the arrival of their monarch and started to back away. Others were so lost in their rage that they continued to pelt the child even after her cries for them to stop.

“Stop this! STOP! I order you to stop!” Useless, she thought, they cant or wont listen to her and the crowd was so dense she couldn’t make her way to Jr. He was just a boy, they could really hurt him and if Bowser found out he would raze this land in revenge. Peach raised her hands, she knew what she had to do, but god she didn’t want to. The thought alone making her queasy, but she wasn’t going to let a little boy come to harm,not while she was here. Peach closed her eyes and felt her body start to tingle. She focused her feelings into her core and then the gem on her dress, just like her father showed her. From her gem to her finger tips the energy flows until shimmers form at her fingertips. The magic shimmers on her fingertips and she directs it to the toads. As one they all fall still and silent, she raises her hand and the toads lift from the ground and away from Jr to a magic bubble she has cast to contain them.

Once inside she releases them from their paralysis and the toads collectively gasp.The princess has never used her magic against them,she wont even use her powers to keep Bowser at bay and yet she would rather save this monsters child than help her own people. The toads look at one another in shock as they see their princess reach the child. Peach can feel the feelings of betrayal coming from her people. She knows she has done something that can not be fixed with sweet words and cake but she pushes all those thoughts aside as she reaches Jr.

The boy has retreated so far into his shell, he doesn’t notice that he is no longer in danger. Peach kneels before the shell and hears a low growl echo from within. She exhales a small gasp, Jr has never reacted that way to her before and to hear it makes her heart clench. Peach has never liked the thought of violence. She has always done her best to resolve any problem with decorum and peaceful words. She’s not naive, she knows not all things can be solved this way, hence the need for the Mario Bros. but this is an ideal that she has kept close to her heart ever since the passing of her father. Something she hoped her people would understand and embrace. She thought her people so kind and caring but it seems that kindness had a breaking point and she was the one to blame.

Laying flat on her stomach she tires to peer into the shell. She marveled for a brief moment at how completely koopas could retreat into their shells, so far in fact she couldn't even see his face. As she proceeded closer to the opening the growling intensified and for a fraction of a second she felt fear. But Jr needed her and thats what mattered more. Peach laid her hand on the shell and spoke softly into it. “Jr its ok. You’re alright now.” The growling had stopped but she was met with silence. Jr was such an exuberant child that the silence unnerved her. She could almost feel the fear that oozed from the shell like a thick miasma. Peach’s throat felt thick with tears but she managed to say the one thing that could possibly reach the child. “its ok honey, momma’s here.”

With this she was met with a tiny snout and frightened eyes.”Momma?” At this Peach smiled and the young koopaling burst from his shell and cried “MOMMA!”, and quickly clung to her breast. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her people shift uncomfortably at this. She ignored them in favor of the child soaking her dress and gasping for breath as he simultaneously cried and spoke. The poor thing was trembling and desperately trying to speak through his hot tears but to no avail because Peach could not understand a word he was saying. She shushed him and gently started to rock him. She held him on her knees with one hand wrapped under him and the other holding his head to her. It was hard holding the heavy boy but he clung to her so desperately it made it a little easier.

The mushroom people gaped as they watched their princess protect and soothe the child of their fiercest enemy. Dumbfounded they remained silent, a captive audience as they still remained in the bubble the princess cast. The princess continued to rock Jr as his breathing slowed and he was no longer gasping for breath. He felt embarrassed that all these people were watching him cry like a baby but deep down he didn’t care. His momma felt so nice and he knew she would be able to help him. He knew this cuz his momma was smart, powerful, and super nice. He didn’t have to be afraid anymore. He raised his head from her dress, sniffed a few times and tried to speak again.

“Jr are you ok? Do you feel better?”His momma asked.

“Yes momma, but I really need your help.”

“My help?What do you need help with?’

Jr took a deep breath and tried his best to be brave like his papa. “Momma I-..” Peach could see his eyes well with tears again and his little snout trembled. “Please save daddy momma.” he whispered.

#princess peach #bowser #super mario #bowser jr #fanfiction #i finally took the plunge my first fic im terrified i know the grammer sucks i tried #super #mario bros

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