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fanfiction--anon · 2 months

Text

Mine

Canon Vox drags himself to an empty room. There are several empty rooms in this place.

This one is just the one that has the least light in it. Vox needs the shadows right now. He doesn't want to be seen. He wants to disappear. He wants to be forgotten. He…wants to say sorry to Radio Guard Vox. What he said wasn't great at all. How could he do that? How could he suggest that his other self purposefully leave his Alastor to die, and say that he'd deserve it?

Vox curls up in the fetal position and puts himself into sleep mode. He lets his thoughts run free as he stays there waiting to snap back to reality or for someone to come and find him, whichever comes first.

He doesn't know how long he stays there, but his limbs start to lock up and the fuzziness in his head grows stronger. He closes his eyes. Thoughts of his other selves are crystal clear in his mind. He remembers the smiles they had, the adoration in their eyes, and the genuine care for their Alastors.

Those memories are nice. They're a good distraction. Distraction enough that Vox nearly misses how inside the room, the static starts to rise at an alarming rate. He doesn't notice at first but after several minutes something shifts.

The presence of it is obvious to anyone, even if they aren't attuned to radio waves.

The static in the room is enough that it messes with Vox's own signal. Another signal enters the room. It's a bright red, and forcefully knocks against his.

Something in the signal compels him to snap out of his trance.

Vox freezes as the radio waves surround him ominously. He opens his eyes and is greeted with a pair of red-tipped boots with gold accents. He follows the boots up to see a red and black uniform adorned with white and gold. Eventually, he reaches the figure's face.

Oh no.

Radio Guard Alastor stands in front of him, his smile wide. It is not a friendly smile. The sparse amount of light in the room manages to catch on his teeth and make them shine dangerously. The shadows in the room flit towards this Alastor as he observes Vox. He grips his microphone tight and taps it slowly against the palm of his other hand.

Vox flinches back as Radio Guard Alastor leans down to look him in the eye.

"What," he snarls, "did you say to my Vox?"

Radio Guard Vox looks around the break room.

All the other couples are busy talking with each other and mingling.

His gaze slides over to Canon Alastor, who sits near the corner, warily eying anyone who comes too close to him.

Vox wonders where his own Canon version is.

Since running off after attacking him, Vox hasn't heard from the other for hours now.

He spoke to his own Alastor after running away and crying his eyes out, sobbing about how much he hated his Canon and that he wished he could just shut off permanently sometimes. He didn't say anything about what Canon told him, feeling like it was important to keep it between himself and his other versions.

Alastor had said nothing during his breakdown, instead hugging him tightly in response before leaving him with the others and walking off to do something.

Vox hopes he isn't getting into any trouble. They really can't afford that right now.

He sighs and starts to stand up. He might as well get some food and try to talk to one of the others. He starts to approach Swap—

All of the Alastors freeze. They stop in the middle of talking, moving, doing whatever they're doing. All of them except for Canon Alastor, who simply freezes and averts his eyes from looking at any of them.

It's silent in the room.

The Alastors slowly turn their heads in one direction: the far wall. Simultaneously, they hold out an arm, as if to protect their partners. They all seem nervous. Almost like they sense something that will put them all in danger. The shadows in the room dance to and fro, and the oppressive feeling of static makes itself known.

Vox blinks. This…this isn't normal.

Something is wrong.

An eruption of static reaches everyone the next second, and all copies of Alastor move.

Vox gets tugged to the side by a stray tentacle just as the wall explodes.

Canon Vox has no time to scream as Radio Guard Alastor snags him by the collar and flings him through a wall.

Pain. All he can register is pain, and the feeling of something inside him snapping.

Other radio signals in the room tell him that he's ended up in the break room with the others.

He scrambles to haul himself into a kneeling position and looks up to see everyone else except his own Alastor looking at him with worry.

Another explosion rocks the area and sends everybody tripping to the ground. A cloud of dust rises, obscuring everything. Vox ducks his head to avoid the chance of his screen being hit.

It's quiet except for the noise of footsteps making their way towards the room.

Vox trembles.

No. No, please. I'm sorry.

Radio Guard Alastor emerges from the cloud of dust. His expression is slack, unsmiling, and utterly blank except for the rage in his eyes.

There is nothing but pure rage emanating from him.

His gaze lands on Canon Vox, who's pushing himself up with one arm. He doesn't see how Radio Guard's upper lip curls back as he snarls.

The other Alastors, sans Canon, follow his line of sight and blanch as they come to the same conclusion.

Radio Guard Alastor lunges forward towards Canon Vox, the air whistling behind him as he moves at full speed, and the other Alastors follow.

Swap reaches Vox first and teleports the both of them away a split second before Radio Guard appears where they were and slams a magic-enhanced fist into the ground, causing an earthquake and leaving a sizable crater.

Swap emerges from Radio Guard Vox's shadow, his arms tight around Canon Vox as they're flung out of the in-between and sent rolling on the ground. It seems this Alastor isn't as accustomed to quick shadow travel as his Alastor is. Swap Alastor pushes Canon Vox towards him with a look of desperation. “Keep him safe!” Swap Alastor pleads, before he turns back and rejoins the others.

Radio Guard Vox wastes no time and drags his Canon self behind an overturned table before peeking out to watch the fight against Radio Guard Alastor.

Secretly Married leaps forward to try and snag him in a chokehold but Radio Guard tilts his head and grabs his arm just as it flies past his ear and throws him over his shoulder. Secretly Married cries out as he's slammed down on the ground and the breath is knocked out of him. Dadstaticradio dashes in using his staff to try and bludgeon Radio Guard, who merely dodges backward with each swing. He barely even looks at the other.

Undeterred, Dadstaticradio manifests tentacles on the ground, hoping to trip up his opponent.

Radio Guard side steps each appendage and clamps his hands onto Dadstaticradio’s wrist as he flings him to the side, earning a cry of pain from the other. Swap moves in swiftly, trying to distract Radio Guard as Secretly Married leaps with his arms outstretched to grab his neck. Radio Guard dodges them both and flies up into the air before dropping down feet first towards the two of them. They rush out of the way, and Secretly Married springs away again as Radio Guard moves towards him, claws outstretched.

Secretly Married ducks and uses Radio Guard's momentum to grab his arm and fling him into the wall.

He goes down.

Canon Alastor appears on top of him first, grabbing his hair and slamming his face into the ground as he kneels on his back. Immediately, the other three Alastors rush to pin his limbs down before he can throw Canon off.

It's futile.

Radio Guard lets out a screech and flings them all off with one move.

The four Alastors hit the ground at various angles, and Radio Guard snaps his head around to glare at them as they cry out in pain. He takes one step towards Swap, who stares up at him fearfully, but a blast of bright blue electricity to his head makes him pause and turn to find who dared attack him.

Swap Vox is standing, gauntlets aimed at Radio Guard Alastor. He charges up another blast and glares at the alternate version of his boyfriend. “Step. Away. From him.”

Radio Guard Alastor visibly hesitates, obviously conflicted at the thought of attacking another Vox who isn't Canon. His split-second pause costs him.

Secretly Married and Dadstaticradio Vox take the chance to wrap cables and wires around him in quick succession and wrench him to his knees. Swap Vox fires another shot at Radio Guard Alastor again, hitting his head as Radio Guard yanks at the cables. Radio Guard Alastor bares his teeth furiously and covers himself with shadows before melting away.

It's quiet in the room.

The shadows twist and explode outward, pulling the Voxes in before throwing them back outwards towards their partners. The darkness convulses and forms a shape, but instead of Radio Guard standing there in his normal form, it's his demon form: a hulking figure, with skin being stretched over elongated limbs to the point of splitting open and revealing bones underneath. The glowing stitches that run over his body strain with the force of holding his flesh together. His eyes shine blood red as his pupils turn to radio dials and flick back and forth inside a white deer skull that replaces his head. His bones crack as his legs morph into proper deer legs, and his rack grows into a pair of antlers with sharpened tips. Shadowy tendrils curl around him like an old friend as he stands up to his full height. His lips curl back, revealing a set of sharp teeth.

The snarl that Radio Guard Alastor lets out has an undercurrent of broken radio noises and shrieking sirens.

He sets his sights on Canon Vox and charges.

Everybody moves in quick succession.

The other Alastors—except for Canon—shift too and try to hold him back.

The other Voxes loop wires around him and send thousands of amps of current.

It's all in vain.

Radio Guard Alastor shrugs off every attack like it's nothing. He ducks under every swing and tosses each new fighter off without breaking a sweat. He grabs each tentacle and cable trying to ensnare him and flings them all aside. Eventually, he knocks every last demon into the walls before he shrieks loudly and bats away the table hiding Canon Vox. He lunges and catches Canon with his antlers and throws him into the middle of the room, deftly avoiding hitting any part of Radio Guard Vox.

Radio Guard Alastor rushes towards his target.

Canon Alastor meets him in the middle with one last desperate attempt to hold him off. His claws against his Radio Guard's antlers as the two grapple for dominance. Canon summons a mass of tentacles that spring out from the ground as they capture the other deer's legs in a vice grip.

Radio Guard stares up at him, before his mouth curves into a smile. He laughs amusedly, “I'll be borrowing these, thanks.”

Canon Alastor's tentacles shake before they start to loosen from Radio Guard's legs and shoot towards Canon instead. They rip Canon away from Radio Guard and pin him against the wall, several feet off the ground. Canon Alastor cries out as they dig into his flesh and wrap around his throat. Canon Vox watches the scene with a heavy heart before slowly turning and looking up once again to meet the stare of a different Alastor with no reservations about mercy and only one goal in mind. Everybody else is too far away and too battered up to move quickly enough to help him.

He's done for.

Vox takes a deep breath and accepts his fate.

Radio Guard Alastor moves one step forward. Then another. And finally—

“Wait!” Radio Guard Vox rushes in between the two, shocking his Alastor out of his blind rage. “Alastor, wait! Please!”

Radio Guard Alastor snorts furiously, his gaze darting between the two Voxes.

“Alastor, I'm begging you. Don't kill him,” Radio Guard Vox pleads.

His Alastor rears his head back, confused. “Vox? You—”

“Alastor, please.”

Vox watches as his alternate self stares down the angry deer demon.

Things are still for a while, but then, slowly, Radio Guard Alastor starts the shift back to his normal form. He looks no worse for wear if one ignores his singed hair and ruffled clothes.

The static in the room recedes, and so do any stray tentacles. Canon Alastor drops to the ground, gasping for air.

Someone rushes to help him up.

Radio Guard Alastor shifts his gaze to Canon Vox.

“Please, Al, drop it,” Radio Guard Vox begs again.

Canon Vox flinches as Radio Guard Alastor looks away from him and says to his own Vox, “He hurt you. I can't let that slide.”

“I know, I know. He's an asshole. But I don't want you to be the final judgment for another world's version of me.”

Radio Guard Alastor hesitates. “Still…”

Canon Alastor takes that moment to step in. Despite the bruises decorating his neck and the blood dripping down his limbs, he remains his chipper self. “If I may? I'd like to be the one to deal with my Vox.”

Vox feels a flutter in his chest at his Alastor's words. He knows they don't mean anything coming from him, but he can't help it.

Radio Guard Alastor narrows his eyes and stares at his alternate with an indiscernible expression, looking for something.

Canon Alastor meets his glare head-on, though Vox notices how he tightens his grip on his microphone minutely. "I told you. This Vox is mine."

Radio Guard seems to find what he's looking for at that statement. He nods his head. “Alright. If that's what you want.” He then turns to face Canon Vox. “I’m not going to apologize to you. But I won't attack you anymore. Don't ever do what you did again. Remember that.”

Radio Guard Vox tugs on his arm and leads his Alastor away, shooting Canon Vox an apologetic look as they leave the room. The others gingerly pick themselves up and also exit the room to recuperate. Vox watches the couples hold on to each other and murmur words of concern and care as they leave. Finally, there is no one else left in the room except for him…and…

“Vox.”

Vox looks up at his Alastor, whose smile is wavering. He glances down and meets his gaze.

“Don't make me do that again,” Alastor says quietly, as he takes Vox’s hand and pulls him up. “I trust you know that you can't go around mouthing off to just anybody.”

Vox stares at both of their hands for a moment before looking up to meet his Alastor's gaze.

Alastor flashes him a sharp smile. “I don't like you, Vox. But I do know one thing: nobody else is allowed to do anything to you other than me. Do you know why?”

He chuckles and lifts their interlaced hands so they're in view.

Vox feels his heartbeat quicken.

“You're mine.”

Taglist: @hazbinhazbinhazbinreblog, @alastorsrchivesforthehotel

#hazbin hotel #au crossovers #Radio guard au #Dadstaticradio au #Swap AU #Secretlymarried au #staticradio #radiostatic #staticlovetune #fanfiction

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prismartist · 11 months

Text

Ao3

The first thing Chayanne sees when he wakes up is Tallulah standing next to his bed, staring blankly at him. She’s holding a maraca up as if to shake it—or maybe hit him with it. You never really know with Tallulah. In any case, he flinches. She lowers the maraca and smiles, but it doesn’t reach her ears.

“Good morning, Chay. You slept in.”

Chayanne doesn’t really feel like talking. “Mm. I did.”

“For a long time.”

“Mhm.”

Tallulah’s bangs barely hides the concern in her eyes. “You don’t usually sleep in this late.”

“So?”

Chayanne promptly shuts his mouth as soon as the harsh tone escapes it. Tallulah’s brows furrow, but she says nothing else. Quickly Chayanne turns over, not wanting to look at Tallulah’s face; somehow her stoic reaction is worse than if she had actually looked hurt.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I’m still tired.”

“It’s okay, Chay,” he hears her say. “Is everything okay?”

Chayanne only folds the pillow around his head, like it would somehow block out everything. Not that there’s much to block out. It’s too silent in the bunker. He can’t hear his father’s laugh.

“Chay-”

“Is Dad gone?”

A pause. “Abuelito?”

Chayanne hums in affirmation.

“Yes, he is. He left yesterday.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The sound of shuffling and a maraca moves from one side of the bed to the other, and Chayanne opens his eyes to once again see Tallulah staring at him. He can’t help but snicker a bit at that. Tallulah smiles in turn.

“I learned this trick from Tio Forever,” she says. “If people turn away, just move back in front of them. He does it a lot. Well… he does it to Abuelito a lot.”

“To annoy him?”

“Eh… I guess so. It’s to stop people from avoiding conversation.”

He purses his lips, and Tallulah imitates him.

“Don’t feel bad that you missed him,” she says. “I know you can sleep heavy. It’s just…”

Tallulah trails off, but Chayanne knows what she’s thinking. It’s not normal for you. Not when it’s so long. Not when it’s your dad.

Chayanne sighs and turns so his back is flat on the bed, and he’s staring up at the ceiling. He puts the flesh of his palms to his black eyes as he shuts them again and takes a deep breath.

“I knew he was leaving today,” he murmurs.

He can basically feel Tallulah frown. “You don’t have to feel guilty about sleeping in. I know how hard it is to control it. It wasn’t on purpose.”

Chayanne doesn’t say anything for a long while.

“It was.”

“Huh?”

Chayanne removes his hands and looks at Tallulah. “I slept in on purpose.”

She’s looking at him carefully, scanning his face. Tallulah doesn’t quite ask “Why?” as she does state it, like she only says it so she can confirm what she already knows.

“I…” Chayanne sits up to face Tallulah; lying on his hair feels like it’s tugging on his scalp. He recollects his thoughts. “I thought, if I…” Nevermind, he can’t recollect his thoughts. He has a quiet urge to pull at his hair.

“Can I guess?” Tallulah asks.

“Sure,” Chayanne says, because he can’t seem to say anything else.

“Were you scared of saying goodbye to Abuelito?”

Chayanne considers it. “I guess. I don’t know why.”

Tallulah hums. “I get it. I don’t really know why either, I think…”

She cups her chin thoughtfully, and Chayanne smiles softly at how serious her expression becomes. “I think it’s because, if you say goodbye, then it feels… real.”

“I guess.” Chayanne thinks further, pouting slightly. “I don’t think it’s just that, though.”

Tallulah meets his eyes.

“You didn’t want to see him go.”

The words settle comfortably next to the dread in Chayanne’s gut. He nods.

“So you slept in, so you didn’t have to.”

He nods again. “I didn’t want it to be real.”

Tallulah’s face creases with sympathy.

“You stole that from me,” she jabs.

Chayanne shrugs helplessly. “It seemed to work for you.”

Tallulah smiles back sadly. “Only for a tiny bit. It’s not very helpful, actually. I mean…” she gestures vaguely to the vast room. “It still ends up being real.”

“It does.” He lolls his head, realising how oppressive the quiet feels. “It is really quiet.”

“Mhm. It’s… worse than I thought it would be.”

Chayanne sharply looks at her. “It is hard for you too, isn’t it? Since you’re already missing your dad.”

She shrugs loosely. “I guess… but I think because of my papi, I’m used to it.”

“How do you handle it? I can’t even imagine spending a week without either of my dads. How have you spent two months without Wilbur?”

Tallulah intertwines her clawed hands on the bed. “Well, it wasn’t easy at first. At first I just wanted to do what you’re doing, sleep and sleep all day… you know that. But, hanging out with Abuelito…” she pauses. “And hanging out with all the other tios and eggs is fun. And I know when he comes back, it will be worth it.” She gives a humourless grin. “If we live to see it.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“That doesn’t make it possible.”

Tallulah makes a face. “That doesn’t make sense. But if you’re so concerned about dying, then you shouldn’t sleep in. We have quests to do.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Tallulah places a hand on Chayanne’s. Her dragon scales are stark against his human skin. Chayanne’s sometimes pondered the irony; how soft, musical Tallulah got the clawed scaly hands, while his remained human, left to callous as he fought.

“We’ll be alright,” she insists. “Abuelito said so, and I trust him. You do too, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we’ll be alright. And while we wait, we’ll play with the others. It will be fun.”

Chayanne sighs, and smiles. “Yeah.”

“You better not sleep in the rest of the week. You didn’t let me when my papi left, so I won’t let you.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t.”

Tallulah retracts her hand before spreading her arms. “Do you want a hug?”

Chayanne doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

Tallulah leans forward and wraps Chayanne in a hug—being smaller, she doesn’t quite envelop him, but he still leans into the embrace, hugging her back. She squeezes comfortingly, though, and Chayanne is reminded of how strong she really is.

He then feels something bump against him.

“Do you have something in your coat?”

When she pulls away, Tallulah’s eyes are suddenly wide. “Oh right, it’s something Abuelito gave me before he left.” Something dark clouds her eyes. “Do you want to see?”

Chayanne perks up. “What is it?”

Out of her coat, Tallulah produces an avocado. It’s slightly bruised. Chayanne laughs.

“An avocado?”

“Yeah.”

The disappointed look on Tallulah’s face makes Chayanne laugh again.

“That’s Dad for you. You have to eat it now, to cherish his memory!”

“Actually, since it’s so important, I think I won’t.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Want me to make it into something?”

“Please do. As long as it isn’t avocado toast.”

#qsmp #philza #qsmp chayanne #qsmp tallulah #qsmp fanfiction #mcyt #prismatic writing

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alittlextrathatway · 5 months

Note

Line: "There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have." Location: hotel room

Part 2 of my HGTV AU

You can find part 1 here.

***

Their season premiere is set for next Monday and they've had this round of daytime talk show interviews scheduled for months. Matt knew he'd be sharing a hotel room with Sylvie and had plenty of time to prepare. It would go the way it always did. He would insist she take the bed, despite all of her determination not to, and then find himself somewhere else to sleep.

Luckily, this time they were in New York for a full week and the network had sprung for a suite with a pull out couch. In the early days of their show, he'd had to pile up extra pillows in a bathtub more than a few times. A pull out couch wasn't great but it was better than a porcelain tub.

He had emotionally prepped himself for being allowed to be physically close to her during the day while being apart from her at night. In the interest of maintaining his standing as a courteous and considerate person, that distance was important. Sylvie's comfort always came first.

But what he hadn't prepared himself for was watching the cohost of 'Great Morning USA' blatantly flirt with Sylvie during the commercial breaks of the live broadcast. The man, Greg Grainger, flirted like he knew the truth of their relationship -- like it was obvious she and Matt weren't really a couple. He knows that can't be. The network would've been on their asses if that were so. No, it must be that Greg is a moron and an asshole.

Matt hates him before the first interview question is even asked. On camera, he manages to be perfectly pleasant, but once the cameras are off all of his carefully crafted filters fail him. It's true. Matt can't have Sylvie, but as long as they're pretending to be engaged Grainger can't either. Not only that, but he's not really with Sylvie. He has no reason to be jealous. And yet...

He's snappish and curt and generally hostile toward the Greg Grainger all morning. To his shame, Sylvie witnesses all of it while pointing more than a few scolding glares his way. It doesn't stop him from treating Grainger like the gum he stepped on the sidewalk outside the airport yesterday. It should. What Sylvie thinks of Matt means everything to him -- has from almost the moment they met -- but today he has no energy to adjust his behavior. It is what it is.

She huffs from her side of the hotel elevator. There's a gulf of space between them since she's pushed herself into the furthest corner, arms folded over her chest with a cross look on her face. The silence that's grown between them is oppressive. He doesn't know what to say to explain himself and even if he did...it doesn't seem like Sylvie wants to hear it.

When the doors open she stomps ahead of him, busying herself with pulling their hotel room keycard out of her purse. He should say something. At least try to apologize. Even though he's not entirely positive he's sorry. For all Grainger knew, he was flirted with an unavailable woman.

But that's beside the point at the moment.

"Sylvie, I--"

"Nope, save it for inside. We do not need anyone else overhearing the fight that's about to happen."

Fight? Ah, shit. He's really stepped in it this time. He presses his lips together and nods, head bobbing as the door finally opens. She holds the door open and motions him ahead of her. Once they're both inside she closes the door and turns the lock. He gulps anxiously.

Looks like they're in for a cage match.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

"What the hell was that?" She asks, throwing her purse down on the couch. "You were antagonistic with Greg the entire morning."

"Oh, it's Greg, is it? You guys are best buddies now?" He regrets the words the second they leave his lips. Why can't he keep his mouth shut today?

"I see. This is about him flirting with me?"

Matt glances away from her, shamefully staring at his shoes.

"Did you notice how I didn't flirt back?"

Yes, he did. He wondered about that. She could have -- off camera anyway. "Didn't stop him from trying."

She rolls her eyes at him and heaves a weary breath. "You know, lots of women flirt with you every damn day and I never act like this. I don't turn childish and petty. Ever."

Yeah, well, the difference between them as far as that goes should be obvious. He's in love with her. She isn't in love with him. All because her ex-fiance is a cheating asshole who let her former best friend steal all of Sylvie's clients. These days, she's too spooked to mix business and pleasure. At first, he agreed with her. Gabby left him with a mess to clean up and if Sylvie hadn't come along he's not sure he would've made it through. But over the years, he began to wish he never agreed with her on the "Business vs. Pleasure" pact. It completely backfired. He's head over heels in love with a woman and he can't do a damn thing about it.

"I don't think we can compare the two," he mutters, grabbing a beer out of the minibar. If they're gonna have one of their once a year fights then he's gonna need a drink.

"Oh no? And why's that?" she asks, taking the unopened beer bottle out of his hands. Finding the bottle opener, she pops the top and then takes a big swig before handing it back to him. "Because 'boys will be boys'? Because men have made dick-measuring contests socially acceptable displays of aggression?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Matt asks, face pinching in disgust and confusion. "When have I ever used the justification of 'boys will be boys'? You know that's not me."

"That seemed to be you today."

"No, it wasn't."

"Then what was it? Because it sure seemed like you were pissed off at the appearance of him trying to take something that everyone thinks is yours. Your manly pride couldn't take the blow. Nevermind that our romantic relationship has always been for show."

"Oh for fucks sake," Matt exclaims with a bitter chuckle. "My attitude toward Greg had nothing to do with my manly pride and everything to do with you."

"Me?" She asks, brow furrowing and voice raising in outrage. "What did I do?"

"Nothing! You did nothing except sit there and be the gorgeous, charming and effortlessly generous woman I've been in love with for over two damn years! It was all me, okay? All me and my stupid insecurities because I know you don't love me and you would probably be happier if we'd never decided to play along with this stupid fake engagement. But we did and now I'm sitting next to you ruining everything for you and I've put off trying to fix it because I'm a selfish asshole who didn't want you to leave."

He's panting by the time his outburst is over. There wasn't a whole lot of breathing happening during his rant and he's feeling it now. Also...what the ever loving fuck did he just do? It almost feels like he lost consciousness while he was yelling. He remembers it but none of it is clear. There's a panicked haze covering his awareness.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit. Shit!

Did he just blow up his entire lift before taking even one sip of his beer? Yep, seems likely.

"You...you love me?" Sylvie asks, eyes wider than he's ever seen them.

He could take it back. It wouldn't look great, but he could do it. There's a moment where he debates whether or not he should, but while it might save him a small amount of face it would be a lie. He's never lied to Sylvie and he doesn't want to start now. "I realize my timing is screwed up and you'd rather not mix our personal and professional lives. I'm not expecting you to--"

She cuts off his attempt at letting her off the hook. "Matt, stop. Just answer me."

He swallows thickly and nods, meeting her big curious eyes. "Yeah--yes. I do. I love you. I have for a long time."

Sylvie's eyes water and her hands cover her mouth. Just when he thinks he's destroyed everything they've built over the last three years, she laughs. No, not laughs -- giggles. It's a wild, disbelieving, high pitched giggle. The last time he heard it, she was drunk off her ass. She's a lightweight sure, but one sip of beer isn't going to get her drunk. That can't be what caused it this time.

When her hands fall from her face, she's beaming at him so hard and wide that her eyes look like little half moons. It's honestly fitting considering she's glowing as if she's the only star in the middle of a long and dark night. Jesus, he loves her so much she makes his chest ache for no real reason at all.

"I love you too."

He goes still, unable to process the words that left her lips. "What?"

"I love you too," she repeats, taking the beer bottle out of his hand a second time. This time setting it down on a coaster. "I have for a long time."

It's the mimicking of his own words that finally does it. Everything clicks into place. He breeches the small space between them and yanks her forward by the pockets on her well pressed black blazer. She laughs and lets herself fall into him, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. "You love me," he states, needing her to confirm it one last time.

She nods. "And you love me."

"I do. I truly do."

"Good," she states, releasing a slow, relieved breath. "You should probably kiss me now."

"Oh, so the cage match is over?" He asks, teasingly.

She grins wickedly, leaning forward until her nose bumps against his. "Yep, and I won."

"I'd argue the point," he begins. "But I'd really like to stay out of the doghouse."

"Matt, shut up and kiss me."

"Yes, ma'am. Copy that."

When his lips find hers, every muscle in his body relaxes. The holes in his heart, leftover from years of neglect, fill in and start to heal as her lips part for him. This kiss is better than any he's had before. Sylvie's giving it everything she's got, grasping the hair on the nape of his neck and pushing herself flush against him. Tongues tangle and taste, hands wander, blazers and jackets are dropped to the floor. He guides her down to the couch, pressing her back into the cushions while he stretches over her.

They still have a lot to figure out -- like how are they going to proceed with the network, what do their feelings mean for their professional relationship, and does he still have to sleep on the pull out?

But all of that can wait for a while. Right now, he wants to enjoy this moment with her and revel in the possibilities. They love each other, and that's all that matters. They'll figure out the rest later -- the way they always have.

Together.

#brettsey #matt casey #sylvie brett #matt casey x sylvie brett #furrynachosublime #prompt fic #my fic #angellwings writes

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ohara-n-brown · 4 months

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I think the people that are asking others to vote for Biden are always missing a big thing.

I get the argument - 'Trump is worse and more of a threat to all of us, so you have to vote for Biden, he's the lesser of two evils!'

Okay, makes sense.

But these posts NEVER EVER bring up the moral dilemma, or how to handle it.

Why 'Blue No Matter Who' WON'T Work Right Now -

You are asking people to directly go against their morals and vote for a man funding genocide -

But then you refuse to give either

1) A way for those people to come to peace with their decision after the fact and

2) A way we're gonna hold Biden accountable AFTER he wins.

You are asking others to vote for a man funding genocide.

Okay, so once they do - and go home and lay in their beds - only to wake up two months later and see Biden sending another 10 billion dollars to Israel-

What moral comfort do you have to give them? For them, knowing that's their money and the man they put into power.

Do you have anything to say to them? Nothing? Because you don't care?

How do you expect them to sleep knowing they've betrayed their morals? Or do you think betraying your morals is something someone can outright choose to do with no mental reprecussions?

And this isn't just some abstract comment. I'm being LITERAL. We all have to go against our morals at least each in our life yes, but you still have to deal with the emotional aftermath.

You all are asking people to set aside their morals without acknowledging that morals, and without justification for it after the fact.

Really, those posts sound like 'Please vote for Biden, we know he's funding a genocide and you don't like that. But PLEASE it's so important. Oh thanks, you voted for him. Wait you feel guilty?.... Not my problem.'

And two - you're providing NO SOLUTION for Biden's behavior.

Biden has been funding a genocide. In the last 130 days he has sent BILLIONS of taxpayer dollars to a foreign country for genocide and war.

You want me to vote for him. And then you never ever ever mention how you plan to get him to STOP doing these things.

You're telling me 'Trump is dangerous! He doesn't listen to the people, he dehumanizes the oppressed and wants them dead!'

Okay, true.

But if Biden ends up in office AGAIN how are we gonna stop him from continuing to abuse his power AGAIN?

Or have you just not thought about that? Are you not concerned about the fact you have no ability whatsoever to hold your own canidate accountable?

Do you just not think about that because it makes you feel powerless and uncomfortable?

Biden has proven he too doesn't listen to the people.

And he in fact, DOES dehumanize the oppressed and does indeed want them dead. Just because those people aren't American doesn't mean anything.

Biden wants oppressed people dead.

So now that we know he does and wants those things - and we can't get him to stop NOW - and yet you want me to re-elect him without offering me methods in which he'll change.

Okay, buddy.

If you want to convince people to vote for Biden you're gonna have to

1) Engage with their morals and explain how they can come to peace with voting for a Genocidal Fascist and their tax dollars being directly used to aid that AND

2) How we plan to hold Biden accountable and change his behavior AFTER I've sacrificed my morals to give him more power.

If you can't do that in your post - shut the fuck up.

You're not gonna tell me to vote for a Genocidal asshole only to tell me 'ummm if you feel guilty afterwards that's not my problem just vote for him okay and also after he's elected I have no idea how to get him to do what we want cause he doesn't even listen to us right now but I promise he's better than Trump so just do it okay'

I'll see entire posts asking for people to vote for Biden - and the post will just not mention Palestine.

They'll talk about Trump, trump, trump - but literally no one with ever say 'Listen, I know Biden is the reason thousands of Palestinians are dead, but-'

Because they know that sounds fucking ridiculous and evil so they leave that part out and hope we don't notice that you've conveniently forgot to mention why we're at this crossroads in the first place.

They tell people to vote for Biden, but never mention why people don't want to vote for him.

Because Democratic voters do not support the massacre of Gaza and Biden does not care.

HOW ARE YOU GONNA MAKE HIM CARE? If you can't tell me - don't tell me what the hell to do. Cause you don't even know what you're gonna do.

If you can't acknowledge the conversation, You're ignoring the crimes of your canidate breaking international law, simply saying they didn't happen or don't matter in the general scheme of things - just like a Trump-ette.

You're literally telling me that Biden will save America and the only chance we have at keeping it... Shit we're not even saying America is 'great', like the Trump-ettes.

We know the US is shit and that Biden contributes to that. None of us actually even believe he'll make America better in the slightest.

At the very least Trump supporters stupidly believe he'll bring about positive chance.

Biden supporters acknowledge he probably won't bring positive change for anyone really. And then they still go vote for him.

That's even fucking sadder. It's less evil, but just as fucking sad.

Voting for a canidate you know doesn't care about you, your education, your health, your home, your life, or really whether you're dead or not.

But you still vote for him - because he's blue.

If you want people to vote for Biden but refuse to engage the moral argument OR Biden's silencing and ROBBING (Yes, using executive action to send billions of dollars overseas against the wills of most Americans is fucking robbery) of the American people -

Please just shut the fuck up. You really can't expect me to listen to that.

'Vote for Biden... just cause!! Don't think about it! Don't think about what happens after! Just do it :) Why? Democrats are inherently better, that's why'

You've got to be joking

So yes, make the argument you want. But if you can't back it up, don't blame others cause they didn't vote.

Blame yourself for not thinking through your point for more than twenty seconds. Blame yourself for expecting people to conform blindly.

If you want me to vote for that man but can't tell me how we're gonna free Palestine from that same man's genocidal glee then I'm begging you to shut the hell up.

#no proofread just rant #joe biden #free palestine #🍉#palestine #2024 elections #biden for president #biden 2024 #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #from the river to the sea

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brunchable · 2 years

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Chapter 5 (PT 1): Turning Page || Royalty!S.S. x Royalty!Reader x Royalty!T.H.

Words: 12.2K (HEHE) Genre: Period Drama, Love Triangle, Royalty AU, Jealousy. Pairings: Stephen Strange x Reader, Tom Hiddleston x Reader. Warning: Sugguestive scenes A/N: Story has no set/final plot, just going with the flow. Thank you to all the read my stories. I love reading your thoughts so let me know what you want to see next. This is Part 1 of Chapter Five :D I just hit 1K followers a day ago but I was travelling! vhbjlkdfb Thank you guys so for reading the fanfics on here! I would just like to say that I value each and everyone of you eventhough I forget to reply to all of the comments. I love you guys. Thank You!

Darkness, dense and oppressive—that was the captivity in which the Daevas had been imprisoned for such a long time. Nothing but darkness, which should be enough to lull them into an everlasting slumber, should be their fate. Nothing should ever wake them, and their Dark God, Chthon, who was placed to sleep along with them and is bound in a single location, which is Mount Wundagore.

While Baron swept his palm around in a circular motion, he flashed a sly grin that just reached the corner of his mouth. Foolish people. He thought by himself with a chuckle escaping from his mouth. In the pitch blackness, crimson eyes that were only dimly lit watched Baron's every move. They served as the Daevas' eyes and senses. Hisses of an eerie intensity reverberated, and then another. They appeared from everywhere and out of nowhere at the same time. When Baron heard the hissing coming from the shadowy beings who dwelt in the darkness, he pounded his staff on the ground to get their attention.

Baron spoke in a calm voice, "Great things, take time—do not be impatient," and the red eyes moved all at once to gaze at him, even though they couldn't actually see anything and depended on the vibrations of movements, “Do you agree that we should begin this path to salvation slowly?”

He inspected his surroundings as he made his way towards the throne that had been vacant for thousands of years. These demons of the night are more than capable of tearing him to pieces if they so choose—however, he was the chosen one. The time for exacting vengeance on those who were responsible for what had been done to his God would arrive at the appropriate moment in due time. Never would he forget the pain and dishonour of driving away magic. As for those who came against him, he would make certain that each and every one of them pay at his mercy.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

After being introduced to you and Stephen, Tom and Andrew returned to their barracks before being taken for a quick orientation around the palace. Andrew made sure no one was within earshot before addressing his older brother.

"Would you be so kind as to tell me about what that was?" Andrew blocked his brother’s path and narrowed his eyes. He was referring to the way Tom looked at you the moment his eyes landed on you.

"What are you talking about?" Tom scrunched his brows and stepped aside to keep moving forward towards their allocated barracks. Andrew pivoted and blocked his path again. Tom halted again, his lips thinning.

"Oh I don't know—I can start with the starry-eyed looking glazed zombie you were when you laid eyes on the Princess?" Andrew tapped his chin while sarcastically reminding his brother about it, "I don't know if you noticed—probably not—but the Prince looked like he wanted to devour you ALIVE." Andrew whisper-shouted.

Tom sighed in defeat and looked around before making his reply, "It was her—" Andrew gave him a confused look and Tom clicked his tongue, "you know? The beautiful woman I came across in the forest that one time."

Andrew closed his eyes and groaned. Great, just great. He thought. Tom hasn't shut up about that beautiful woman he met at the forest, the only time he probably stopped mentioning it was probably during his sleep or when he's too focused on his tasks—heck, Andrew wouldn't even be surprised if Tom even spoke about you in his dreams. You've got him hooked like a fish out of water.

"I told you she was beautiful," Tom shrugged.

"Yes. She very much is—I could feel my eyes dilated when I saw her as well. . . but she isn’t the reason why we're here." Andrew was so passionate about reminding his brother to get his head back in the game that he placed his balled fist in front of his own lips, "You're going to be spending a lot of time with her so please, brother, please, keep it professional. She's betrothed, she's off limits."

Tom studied the desperate look on Andrew's face. Ah, that's right, you were betrothed—he forgot about that though it was the first thing that they mentioned. However, Tom couldn't just shrug off what you said to him in the forest.

'They treat me as well as they're able.'

He remembers the solemn look on your face and in the way your voice spoke when you said those words. You didn't specifically mention who you referred to but he could guess that you referred to Stephen. The indifference between you as you both sat in front of the King was something that was so obvious. Stephen seems like a man who doesn’t know what he wants and the problem is Tom now wants what he has.

“You’re jumping into conclusions, brother—I’m nothing but an admirer, is it wrong to admire the Princess?” Tom asked in his defence.

“I’ve seen that look of yours before, Tom. You might be a tough warrior, a great leader—but I know one thing for sure. When it comes to love, you’re easy to fall and easy to break.”

Tom squinted as he peered over Andrew’s shoulder’s, “Hey look over there.” he pointed.

Andrew furrowed his brow and looked over his shoulder and that’s when Tom made a run for it to go to his barracks without his brother. Andrew turns back around and finds Tom missing. He sighed and looked up into the sky, “Hecate help us.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Stephen sat in the infirmary while the scratches and wounds he received from the hands of your brother were treated by you. The frown that he'd been wearing ever since the Lieutenants had been introduced didn't disappear from his face at any point. When you delicately wiped on his lower lip with a white towel, he hissed, the skin that was around it felt tender.

"Oh, don’t be such a baby. You wouldn't be sitting in front of me right now if you hadn't gotten into a fight with my brother." After he wrenched his head back away from you, you responded harshly and sighed at him. You could see that he was thinking about something else, almost as if he was drowning in something that he couldn't easily put to rest. "What are you thinking about?"

Stephen assumed an upright posture and shrugged,"Nothing," he said after an extended pause before continuing, "You appear to be familiar with your Lieutenant."

Stephen looked at you intently, as if waiting for you to make a mistake; nevertheless, you kept your composure and shook your head while saying, "I'm not familiar with him." Whichever way the truth, the fact remains that he was a stranger to you.

Stephen's eyes remained narrowed as he continued to stare at you, and he eventually said, "Well, if he's going to be stuck with you the majority of the time. Now you will. He was smiling at you like you were something special.” He scoffed.

"Was he? I didn't notice," You aren't sure what he's trying to prove, but the way he was behaving got you a little bit irritated, and you accidently pressed the towel down rather firmly on his lips. If he was trying to make you feel less offended by his behaviour towards you by using some kind of reverse psychology tactic, it wasn't working.

“Ow!”

“Sorry,” You removed the towel from the wound and cleansed it in a basin filled with warm water while saying, "Never pick a fight with my brother again unless you want to be a cripple for the rest of your life." You circled back around to the topic of him and your brother.

“I did not start that fight.” He spoke out in his own defence.

"No, but you made a contribution," you say, removing the water from the cloth by squeezing it and then folding it twice before going back to Stephen and moving his hair away from his forehead in order to wipe the dried blood from that area.

He maintained his silence and gave you permission to carry on attending to his wounds. The void that had been in his heart was slowly being filled. However, he was unaware of it, or his subconscious refuses to acknowledge that it is true. He couldn't help but fixate his gaze on the young beauty standing in front of him. His first thought—what felt like his first thought about you in a while, formed so slowly in his brain—was that you looked like a goddess. Your eyes were big and piercing and feline; your hair was jet black, combed to a glossy sheen, parted sharply, and flowing all the way down to your thighs; your lips were cupid's-bow charming; and your head was leaned to one side. You had skin that had gently seen sunlight, and wore no expression at all. You had no boundaries, all you knew was to shine, and live without any walls around you on every page.

You noticed the deceiving lustre in his eyes that you had to look away, and when you looked back at him, his gaze hadn’t moved and was still focused on your face, as if to say: So you looked away and you’ve come back, will you be looking away again soon?—which was why you had to look away once more.

Everytime he looked at you, you felt brighter inside, and you yearned to keep his attention, to hold his gaze. You sensed his gaze falling upon you time and time again. Though your heart still breaks at the knowledge that he can’t reciprocate your love for him, your heart pounded more than it should and your cheeks picked up a seemingly perennial red tint. You wondered whether he thought of you as a mere wife to produce his heirs or there was something special to that look he shackled you with.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare, Prince Stephen?” You finally called him out before your nervousness began to eat you up.

“I was not staring at you,” Stephen denied in a hard tone and averted his gaze elsewhere, “Where else am I supposed to look?”

“I’m almost done, just hold still,” You held his shoulders and brought him closer to you, your pregnant stomach brushing the side of his arm. You felt his hand press against the lower part of your abdomen that stuck out. The gentle touch of his palm on your stomach caught you off guard and you lightly jumped back.

Stephen took his hands away and lowered his head, “I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t think that all is well between us just because I am tending to your wounds, Your Highness. I’m only doing this as a gesture of penitence on behalf of my brother.” You informed Stephen who only clenched his jaw.

“Is it not enough?” Stephen asked, “I sent you the finest flowers, presents, gave you the space you needed to get away from me, everything and everyone—including my father seems to be against me—It is for certain that me and Christine aren’t meant to be. And now you won’t allow me to feel my child who sleeps in the comfort of you? What more could you possibly take away from me?! What do you want?!”

“I want it to stop hurting!” You snapped, “No amount of flowers or objects will ever take away the sorrow you’ve given me. You told me no more secrets, no more lies! You said you wanted this to work but you came running back to her? You want to know where it hurts? Right here,” You seethed, harshly pointing towards your heart.

“Right there is where it hurts. All the time, day in, day out, every night. Even in my dreams. There’s no escaping it. It hurts because I gave my heart to you and you successfully deceived me into thinking I finally had yours, but no, you’ve left me hollow.”

"If you really think I had no ounce of love for you then that child wouldn't exist."

"Please—as much as I love this child, it wasn't conceived out of love. It's because their father can't live another day without fucking." You threw the towel on the table beside you and shot him a furious glare before storming out of the healer’s room, slamming the door behind you. Your fingernails dug into your palms but didn’t notice as you marched through the empty halls to go to the courtyard from some fresh air. You felt glad that your anxiousness wore off now that you’re out of his sight.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Engagement Ball – 1 year ago

You took a look around, searching for a stealthy way to enter the hall. You and your Fiance were being honoured at a ball, but you had no clue how you could possibly maintain your discretion, particularly in a Xarean style dress as outrageously revealing as the one you were wearing. You silently muttered an expletive as you saw that every eye was focused on you as you passed. Your sinful figure didn’t help matters. The antechamber was just as dark and gloomy as the façade of the building, and it was filled with opulently dressed aristocracy milling around. Like a prison. A jail that has wreaths of evergreen and holly hanging over the entrances and candles burning in gold candelabras throughout the institution. You are quite sure that you saw some mistletoe as well.

Peter craned his neck to find the herald. “There he is.” He pointed to a short, squat man with a wig and scroll who stood beside a large archway. Music and laughter poured from the room beyond. Another servant appeared to take your cloaks. Though you held on to yours for a second too long, the servant succeeded in tugging it from your hands. Feeling naked, you watched it disappear with a sense of helplessness.

When Peter pulled you toward the herald, however, you dug in your heels. “I’m not being announced.”

“But the footman said—”

You jerked out of his grasp. “I don’t care what the footman said!”

“Princess, the King insisted—”

“Darlings.” Lady Lazarescu spotted you and smiled wide, looping her arms through yours and Peter’s, “Let’s not make a scene, hmm?” Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to smile and nod at the eavesdropping aristocrats.

You tried to get away but the herald had already spotted you as well and urged you, along with Lady Lazarescu, to come forward and be announced. The trumpets played and the herald stomped his staff twice on the marbled flooring, “Ladies and Lords, with great privilege, I announce the arrival of Princess (Y/N) of the Xarean Empire, future Queen to our Crown Prince Stephen of Eltham.”

Before the curtains were drawn, Lady Lazarescu stepped aside and gestured for you to put on a smile. You sighed out of frustration and pulled a small smile as they drew the curtains open, revealing you beside Peter who assisted you in going down the stairs. The sea of people bowed before you, your eyes searching for Stephen.

The white marbled floor shone brightly in the candlelight, and iron chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling that had beams in it. A merry melody was being performed by musicians in the corner of the room close to a very tall pine tree. There was already dancing going on, but the majority of the visitors chose to socialise with the royal family while sipping champagne and milling around the room's periphery. You can tell that the aristocrats who are standing next to you have been drinking for quite some time since their speech is slurred and quite loud.

Scoffing, you marched past them through the room. You scanned the sea of black coats and sparkling gowns for Stephen, spotting his black hair at the far end of the ballroom. A group of admirers surrounded him, though the young woman clinging to his arm drew your particular attention. Your heart plummeted. Anxiously awaiting my ass. Even from a distance, you could tell the woman was beautiful: delicate and feminine; her porcelain skin and brown hair shone in the candlelight. She shook with genuine laughter at something Stpehen had just said. Uneasiness flitted through you.

This could only be one person. One boring, docile, wretchedly inconvenient pipe dream. Peter followed your gaze, wrinkling his nose in distaste when he too spotted Stpehen and the chestnut-haired beauty.

“Please tell me that’s not who I think it is.”

“I’ll come find you later.” Your eyes never left Stephen’s face. Peter knew better than to follow this time. You’d just descended into the ballroom when another man stepped in your path. Though you’d never encountered him this close, you recognized his flawless complexion and hooded eyes at once. White silver hair styled to perfection, he wore more diamonds on his crown than were in looked like your entire vault. King Pietro Maximoff. Damn it. You didn’t have time for this shit.

Even now, that stupid cow was probably sinking her claws deeper into your fiance—reminding him of her beautiful lips, and smile, and eyes, and laugh—

“That is quite the dress.” His gaze swept up your body lazily, and he smirked, arching a brow. His thick accent surprisingly adding to his appeal.

“Your Highness.” You dropped into a curtsy, clamping down on a slew of more appropriate honorifics. He eyed your breasts appreciatively as you leaned down, and you straightened at once. Bloody pervert.

“Your name.” It wasn’t a question. Was he not paying attention?

“Princess (Y/N) of the Xarean Empire, Your Highness.”

His grin widened in delight. “You're The Xarean Princess? My apologies, I didn’t expect our barbaric King to have such a stunning daughter.” He actually threw his head back and laughed. The aristocrats nearest you paused, eyeing you with renewed interest.

“Oh, I’ve heard all about you.” His golden eyes sparkled with glee. “Tell me, how exactly did you trick our little Eltham Prince into marrying you? I’ve heard the rumours, of course, but everyone has their own theories.”

You would’ve gladly broken a finger to break one of his other appendages. “No tricks, Your Highness,” You said sweetly. “We’re in love.”

His grin faded, and his lip curled slightly. “How wretched.” At that moment, the crowd shifted, revealing Stephen and his many admirers. The chestnut-haired cow reached up to brush something from Stephen’s hair. Your blood boiled.

The King’s brows rose as he followed your gaze. “Love, huh?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Should we make him jealous?”

“No, thank you,” you snapped. “Your Highness.”

“Call me Pietro.” As he moved aside, his smile changed into a vicious one. You raced right past him, but at the very last second, he grabbed your wrist and planted a quick kiss on the back of your hand. You were fighting off the impulse to crack his fingers, “Come find me if you change your mind. We would have fun together, you and I.”

With one last, lingering look, he sauntered off, winking at one of the women who hovered nearby. You scowled after him for a moment before turning back to Stephen. But he and Christine were gone.

Because Stephen was so much taller than everyone else in the crowd, it didn't take you long to find them at all. Christine, being the Leetch that she was, continued to grip tightly onto his arm as they approached a door that was partly obscured by two evergreens. You followed in their footsteps as best you could. To your dismay, and maybe to your trepidation, they continued to be entirely absorbed in one other as they walked out the door without looking back. You made to slip through after them, but a hand caught your arm. You whirled around to face the Duke, Christine’s father.

You stood motionless, rooted to the spot like the evergreens beside you, as he began to pace. “Where do you think you’re going? Let our Prince enjoy this small pleasure away from your corruption.”

At the words, your confusion morphed into something sparkling and icy, and became more intense. As though you were the one who was responsible for setting up this premarital arrangement. As if you were the one who ought to feel embarrassed about yourself. You protruded your chin and moved forwards until you were in an inappropriately close proximity to his gaunt face. "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about, but you need to take a good look at yourself in the mirror. When you go to Hell, Lord Palmer, you'll find that liars and hypocrites have their own designated area. Perhaps I’ll see you there.”

He stared at you with wide eyes, but as you moved away from him, he didn't make any attempt to follow you. As soon as you entered what could only be a kitchen, the savage delight that had been pulsing through your veins abruptly disappeared. It was empty. However, you soon found that a cold air was biting at your flesh, and you realised that the door on the other side had been left ajar. The thin space allowed the wind to whistle through it. You inched it open a little farther, seeing Stephen and Christine standing in a barren herb garden. The dark fragments of sage and rosemary were covered with snow. You moved in closer, but the wind was so loud that it was difficult to make out their words.

“I’m sorry, Christine.” Stephen cradled the woman’s hands on his own. She held her shoulders stiff—angry.

You shouldn’t be here, the small, disapproving voice at the back of your head warned. This is wrong. Private. You’re breaking trust. He’s the one breaking trust.

“There has to be something we can do,” Christine said bitterly. “It isn’t right. Maybe we can make a petition,ask your father for an annulment after. Surely the King wouldn’t keep you trapped in a loveless marriage.”

Your stomach dropped to somewhere below your ankles.

Stpehen stroked her fingers with his thumb. “Once my father’s decision is set it’s hard to change it.”

“No. . .I’m sure I could arrange a meeting—”

“Christine,” he said softly.

She sniffled, and you knew instinctively it wasn’t because of the cold. “I hate her.”

“Christine, you . . . you didn’t want me.” Your chest constricted to the emotion in his voice. At the pain.

“I always wanted you,” she said fiercely. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was angry, heartbroken, and I just—I needed time.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and you saw her face clearly for the first time. She had gorgeous high cheekbones, big eyes that resembled doe's eyes, and luscious lips, “But I don’t care anymore, Stephen. I don’t care if it’s selfish. I want to be with you.”

You watched her press those lips to Stephen’s cheek and felt sick. Suddenly, you didn’t find their love letters funny anymore. He pulled away before she could move to his mouth.

“Christine, don’t. Please. Don’t make this any harder.” She paused, lower lip trembling. Her next words were a direct blow to your chest.

“I love you, Stephen.” She clung to him, pleading. “I’m so sorry I pushed you away, but we can still be together. We can fix this. You’re just engaged. Speak to your father again. He’ll send that whore to her Kingdom where she belongs, and—”

“She isn’t a whore.”

You leaned forward as Christine pulled back, frowning at something she saw in his face. “She’s a delinquent of a Princess, Stephen, she framed you. She—she doesn’t deserve you.”

Stephen gently disentangled himself from her arms. “Christine, this can’t continue.” His voice was low, resigned. “Whether or not you like her, you told me that my duty was for this Kingdom. I will honour it.”

“Do you like her?” Christine changed the subject, eyes narrowing.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me!”

“What do you want me to say, Christine? She’s my future bride. Of course I like her.” Christine rocked back as if he’d slapped her.

“What’s happened to you, Stephen?”

“Nothing—”

“The Stephen I know would abhor that woman. She embodies everything you oppose—”

“You don’t know her.”

“I obviously don’t know you either!”

“Christine, please—”

“Do you love her?” You held your breath, fingers biting into the doorjamb. There was a heavy pause. Then—

“No, I don’t love her.” He exhaled heavily, looking down. “But I think—I think maybe I could—”

“But you said you loved me.” She withdrew her distance from him gently, her eyes widened in shock and pain. Tears streamed down her cheeks, “You asked to marry me! Me—not her!”

“I— Christine, I do love you. But (Y/N) . . .” He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“You won’t hurt her?” At this point, her sobs were more heartfelt, and streaks of colour began to appear on her formerly white cheeks, “What about me, Stephen? We’ve known each other since we were children!” Her tears soaked her bodice, ruining the black silk.

Stephen’s hands hung limp at his sides. “I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”

“I’m sorry too, Stephen,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry I ever met you.”

You slowly backed away from the door as numbness spread over your body. You have no right to be in this place. This moment hadn’t been meant for your eyes. Back in the ballroom, you stood apart from the crowd, your mind still reeling. Stephen loves her. Disgusted with your own behaviour, you shook your head. Of course he had. He’d said as much in his stupid journal—which you never should’ve read—and even if he hadn’t, he was a young, attractive man. He would’ve had his choice amongst any number of women. The thought rankled more than it should’ve. The image of Christine's lips, or any lips, pushed to his face, performed the same thing.

Christine reappeared a few seconds later, cleaning her face in the most stealthy manner imaginable. Before anybody could question her, she quickly bowed her head and made her way to the antechamber of the hall. When Stephen emerged again, you forced the knot in your throat back down and swallowed. As you watched him look everywhere for you, you considered going after Christine.

After hearing what you had, how could you possibly face him? After discovering what it was that he'd given up? Do you love her? No, I don’t love her. But I think—I think maybe I could— Could what? Love me? As soon as you heard the phrase, panic began to grip your throat. Stephen was able to pick you out of the crowd just as you were raising your skirts in an effort to depart the ballroom and go towards the exit.

As his blue eyes met yours and expanded, you fumbled through an uncomfortable wave while regretting your newfound insecurity. He began moving on while simultaneously avoiding the numerous nobles who sought to stop him and congratulate him along the route. He did this by gently excusing himself from the situation. When he finally got close enough to you, you adjusted your feet while being vividly and cruelly aware of your heart's pounding rhythm, your tingling limbs, and your heated skin. His hands clamped securely around your wrist.

“You look beautiful.” Your blush deepened as he looked at you. Stephen's admiration was almost, in contrast to King Pietro's haughty appreciation. . . respectful. A person has never looked at you like that before.

“Thank you.” you breath caught, and he tilted his head, eyes searching yours in silent question. You looked away, embarrassed, but then Princess Wanda, King Pietro’s twin, chose that moment to swoop down on both of you. She didn’t bother with pleasantries. You’d met her a couple of times during special events, she was a bit reserved at first, but after she warmed up to you, she was a bit more chatty and open. She knows you and Stephen’s brief history since that’s usually the subject during your high-teas.

“Tell me, who was that lovely woman you were with earlier? Your sister, perhaps?” You glared at her pointedly, but she ignored you. Subtlety had never been Wanda’s forte.

“Oh—er, no,” Stephen said. “That was the Duke’s daughter, Lady Palmer.”

“Close personal friend?” Wanda pressed, narrowing her eyes.

“You could say that,” Stephen answered woodenly. But Wanda didn’t bat an eye.

“Hm.”

“Wanda.” you forced a smile and reached for her hand, squeezing it mercilessly. “I think I’d like a little time alone with the Prince. Have you seen Lieutenant Isaac?”

She waved her other hand behind you dispassionately. “Probably beating his chest and challenging that other soldier to a duel.”

You looked back to where she waved. “What other soldier?”

“The pompous one.” She pursed her lips in concentration, but she needn’t have bothered. You knew exactly to whom she referred.

“What happened?”

“Oh, the usual male condition. Lieutenant didn’t want the other playing with his new toy.” She rolled her eyes. “I swear, my female lovers never get into such a jam.”

Your grin was genuine now, “Perhaps you should go referee.”

Wanda studied your hand clasped around Stephen’s, and the feverish complexion of your cheeks. The way he stood close. Much too close. Her eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I should.”

She stepped forward to embrace you, but Stephen wouldn’t let go of your hand. Shooting him a glare, she hugged you regardless—awkward, but fierce. “I’ll see you later,” she murmured in your ear, “Let me know if I need to castrate him.”

Stephen watched her leave with an inscrutable expression. “We need to talk,” he said finally, “Somewhere private.”

You followed him silently and fearfully to the same herb garden where Christine had her heart broken. You made certain to lock the kitchen door behind you this time. You didn't need an audience for whatever it was that he wanted to say, even if you had a sneaking suspicion that it would hurt like a bitch. He dragged a hand through his raven hair in agitation. “(Y/N), the woman you and Princess Wanda saw me with, that was—”

“Don’t.” As a precaution against shivers, you coiled your arms about your waist. Your tolerance has reached an all-time low. You would never have to go through that horrible conversation again. Only once hearing it was sufficient, “You don’t have to explain anything. I understand.”

“I do need to explain,” he disagreed. “Look, I know we were engaged under less than ideal circumstances. But, (Y/N), I—I want this to work. I want to be your husband. I know I can’t force you to want the same, but—”

“I do want the same,” you whispered.

His eyes widened, and he took a tentative step closer. “You do?”

“Yes.” He smiled at your answer, then—truly smiled—before faltering slightly.

“Then there can’t be any secrets between us.” He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “The woman you saw was Christine. You read my letters, so you know I love her. But—but nothing happened. I promise. When I came with my father, she immediately found me and. . . She insisted on being right by my side the whole time. Just now, I took her out here to discuss the shift in our relationship's limits. I told her I didn’t—”

“I know.” You inhaled deeply as you braced yourself for the coming conflict.

He frowned. “How can you know that?” Because I’m a shit person. Because I didn’t trust you. Because she is everything you deserve, and I am your enemy.

“I followed the two of you out here,” you admitted quietly. “I . . . I heard everything.”

“You spied on us?” Disbelief colored this voice. Feelings of fear ran through you. Whether you were shaking from the cold or your own shame, you had no idea.

“Old habits die hard.”

His brows pinched together, and he drew back slightly. “That’s not how I would’ve chosen for you to find out.”

You shrugged, attempting a bit of your old swagger, but it fell flat, “Easier this way though.”

He looked at you for what seemed like an eternity; you began to wonder whether he would ever break his silence. You shrank back from his scrutiny, “No more secrets, (Y/N),” he said finally, “No more lies.”

“I . . . I’ll try,” You whispered. It was the best you could give him.

He nodded, slow and understanding. “Let’s go back inside. You’re shivering.”

“Wait.” You grabbed his hand before he could turn, your heart lodged firmly in your throat. “I—I want to—” Make a complete and total fool of myself, “I want to say sorry—for everything.” You squeezed his fingers, your own stiff and aching from the cold.

“Christine was right. I don’t deserve you. I made a real mess of your life when I came into it.” His other hand came down on top of yours. Warm and steady. You were probably taken aback when he cracked a grin.

“I’m glad you did.” Your blood warmed your freezing cheeks and you found it difficult to look at him.

“Right," you cleared your throat, "well, then . . . let’s go back inside before I pass out from hypothermia.”

When you went back into the ballroom, the party was in full swing. You snatched a champagne glass from a passing servant and chugged it down in one go.

Stephen eyed you incredulously. “You drink like a man.”

“Maybe men can learn a thing or two from women.” you waved the servant back and grabbed two more flutes, passing one to Stephen. He didn’t take it. “Relax, Prince. Enjoy yourself. This is the best champagne money can buy. It’s an insult to your father not to drink it.” you scanned the crowd with feigned boredom.

After a few periods of time, a scrumptious warmth crept over your whole body. The music, which had been a dull and uninteresting waltz before, was sounding much better now. Livelier. You just drank the third glass in one go.

“Dance with me,” Stephen said abruptly.

You looked at him in bewilderment, “What?”

“Dance with me.” He stood on his feet and threw your arms around his neck. You tensed, glancing around, but he tugged you down determinedly. You complied. Stephen stooped slightly, and wrapped his arms around your waist. You laughed. You both looked foolish as you bent and strained to fit together, but he would not let either of you go even though it was obvious you were uncomfortable.

“This—this isn’t the proper way to dance.” You said and lifted your chin to look him directly in the eyes.

“Of course it is. This is our party. We can dance anyway we want.” Stephen shrugs. You chuckle inwardly.

“I—I don’t usually do this—”

“(Y/N), if you don’t dance with me, I’ll go and find someone who will.” His grip tightened on your hips.

“No, you won’t.”

“Then the way forward is clear. We dance.”

You blew out a breath and closed your eyes. “Fine.”

As nervous as you’d been to dance, you proved yourself capable within moments, moving with unnatural grace for someone who hasn’t gotten much dancing lessons her entire life. Stephen had a few missteps of his own. He would have said it was because of your dress, but it was just him being clumsy. Focusing was impossible for him. His hands were strong on your waist, and he couldn’t help but imagine them . . . elsewhere. His blood heated at the thought.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

That night, the tension in our room was so intense that it was physically painful. In preparation for your upcoming wedding, which would take place in one year, the King had ordered the two of you to spend more time alone together at Autumn shore. You were lying in his bed, and Stephen could hear you shifting about in the darkness. Your breathing was first loud, but gradually it became more quiet. You made another change. Effortlessly rolled over onto your side then your back. Then to the other side, then your back, and finally your side again. Attempting to maintain silence at the moment. But you were none of those things, and Stephen was listening to you. In a never-ending loop of repetitions. You were starting to send him over the edge. You had finally made up your mind to bend over the edge of the bed, your blue-green eyes finding him in the shadows. Your tresses are now scraping all over the floor.

When Stephen tried to sit up on his elbows too soon, your eyes immediately went to the spot on his chest where his nightshirt was hanging open. The fire erupted in his gut as he questioned, “What is it?”

“This is stupid.” You scowled, but Stephen was at a loss for why you were so irritated, “You know you don’t have to sleep on the floor?”

Stephen eyed you suspiciously, “Are you sure?”

“First things first, I need you to quit staring at me like that. Yes I am sure, its not a huge thing, really.” You rolled your eyes before scooting to make room for him, “Besides, it’s freezing in here. I need your big-ass body heat to keep warm.”

When Stephen was still unwilling to move, you coaxed him by patting the place next you, “Oh, c’mon, Stephen. I don’t bite . . . much.”

Stephen swallowed hard, violently blocking out the image of your mouth on his skin. He got onto the bed in a careful and unhurried manner, giving you plenty of opportunities to change your mind along the way. There was an unpleasant pause of quiet that lasted for many seconds.

“Relax,” you finally whispered, though you too, laid stiff as a board, “Quit being so awkward.”

Stephen almost laughed. Almost. As if he could’ve possibly relaxed with you so . . . so close to him. The bed, which usually was King sized, has been replaced to a smaller one. Half of Stephen’s body jutted out into empty space. The other half pressed into you but he didn’t complain. After suffering through yet another agonising minute of silence, you eventually turned towards Stephen with your breasts brushing against his arm. His heart rate soared, and he clenched his teeth in an effort to bring his intrusive thoughts under control.

“Tell me about your parents.” You asked, and just like that, all his thoughts of intimacy fled.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“There’s always something to tell.” Stephen maintained his firm fixation on the ceiling. Even though there was once again complete silence, you never stopped watching him. He couldn't help but cast a glance in your direction—at the enthusiastic, wide-eyed look you have on your eyes. Stephen groaned and shook his head in frustration.

“My Father and I don’t get along well, ever since I was a child. He’s always been too hard on me, probably because that’s how his father was to him. Mother wanted to have more children but Father said one son to inherit the throne is enough—if I had been a daughter, then my father would keep trying for a son but that wasn’t the case.”

You stared at him, horrified. “Marshall Wong was more of a father to me, he taught me plenty of things, first magic—as you already found out—but then I hit a growth spurt.” The side of his mouth quirked up of its own volition. “He began training me as a Sorcerer knight not long after. I claimed my spot when I was fifteen. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

You rested your head on Stephen’s shoulder, “Claimed your spot?”

Closing his eyes, he rested his chin on top of your head and inhaled. Deeply. “There are only two hundred mythical Eltham rings. It limits the positions available. Most serve for life. When a Sorcerer Knight retires or dies, an underground tournament is held. Only the winner may join our secret ranks.”

“Wait.” When you stood up, Stephen's eyes immediately blinked awake. You looked down at him with a smile, your hair playing lightly across his torso, “Are you telling me Peter beat out all the other contenders?”

“Peter isn’t a Sorcerer Knight.” Your grin faltered at Stephen’s reply.

“He’s not?”

“No. He’s training to be, though. He’ll compete in the next tournament, along with the other initiates.”

“Oh.” You frowned now, twirling a lock of hair around your finger. “Well, that explains a lot.”

“It does?” You nestled back into him with a sigh.

“Peter is different from everyone else here. He’s . . . easy-going. Open-minded.”

Stephen bristled at the insinuation, “It’s not a crime to have principles.”

You ignored him. You made a path down the collar of his shirt with your fingertips. Stephen coughed and cleared his throat, doing his best to ignore the little movement. However, your fingertips had a really warm feeling to them. In addition to this, his shirt was paper thin.

You didn’t speak again for several moments. When you finally did, he wished you hadn’t.

“And . . . and Christine? Do you continue seeing her up until now?” All remnants of humour withered and died on his tongue. Stephen continued to fix his attention on the ceiling. In spite of the fact that you said nothing, your fingers continued to trace his collar. Coaxing. Waiting. He let out another sigh.

“You saw the letters. We . . . tried maintaining our courtship.”

“Why?” You asked and felt Stephen stiffened, immediately wary.

“What do you mean why?”

“Nothing. . .” You murmured. Stephen would’ve given up his Sorcerer’s ring to end this conversation.

You sat up, fixing Stephen with those unnerving eyes. “You were going to marry Christine.”

“Yes.” Stephen tore his gaze away from you and back toward the ceiling. A snowflake drifted in from the window, “Growing up . . . Christine and I were sweethearts. Her kindness appealed to me. I was an angry child. She tempered me. Begged me not to throw rocks at the constabulary. Forced me to confess when I stole the communion wine.” A grin tugged at his lips at the memory. Your eyes narrowed at his words, but you wisely said nothing. You sank down until you were pressing against his chest, and as you did, you lightly touched his exposed collarbone with your finger. In its aftermath, heat exploded all over his flesh in addition to everywhere else. Stephen repositioned his hips such that he was facing away from you while muttering a profanity.

You burrowed deeper in the blankets as the wind picked up outside.

“Are you cold?” Stephen asked.

“A little.” You reply and Stephen inched closer, lifting his arm.

“Will you accept an olive branch?” He asked and you swallowed hard, nodding. He pressed you up against his chest and clamped his hands around the small of your back. You were transformed back into a piece of wood in an instant. Small. Tense. Unyielding. Stripped of your prying questions, it was almost as if you were . . . nervous.

“Relax,” Stephen murmured in his low baritone voice against your hair, “I don’t bite . . . much.”

Quiet laughter rumbled through his chest. You hardened your body as much as was humanly feasible. You have no reason to be concerned. You undoubtedly heard the tumultuous beating of his heart, and you quickly realised your advantage.

“Was that a joke?” You teased and Stephen’s arms tightened around you.

“Maybe.” When you said nothing in return, Stephen pulled back to look at you. Another smile tugged at his lips. And, suddenly, he recalled your first night together.

“You don’t have to be nervous, (Y/N),” Stephen stroked your back, forcing yourself to remain still as you wriggled against him, “I’m not going to try anything.”

A noise of protest escaped you, “Why not?”

“I seem to remember you threatening to cut me open if I touched you without permission.” When your eyelids began to close, Stephen cocked your head forwards, cursing inwardly while simultaneously praising himself. When he felt a little catch in your breath, Stephen leaned in closer, his lips coming dangerously close to yours. "If you don't ask me to touch you, I won't."

Your eyes flew open, and you pushed him away with a snarl, “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am.” Stephen smirked again and settled back against the pillow, “It’s late. We should sleep.”

You looked at him with a fiery glare in your eyes. With understanding. With a degree of resentful adoration. Stephen, feeling victorious, watched you sort through your thoughts and saw how each feeling manifested itself on your beautiful face.

You scowled at Stephen and smiled sarcastically, “It appears I underestimated you.”

Stephen raised his brows, “Just say the magic words. Ask me.”

“You’re an ass.”

Stephen shrugged and sat up, “Have it your way.” In one fluid motion, Stephen lifted the hem of his shirt up and over his head.

Your eyes flew open incredulously, trying not to lower your gaze, “What are you doing?” You grabbed his shirt and threw it back at him—which he caught and tossed it all the way across the room.

“I’m feeling hot, aren’t you?”

“You—you— Get out of my bed! Get out!” You shoved Stephen, probably with all your strength, but he didn’t budge. He only grinned teasingly.

“This is our bed.”

“No, this is where I sleep. You sleep on the—”

“Bed.” Stephen brought his hands up to his head and clasped them together. You stared at him in disbelief, your gaze darting between his arms and his chest. Stephen's smile became wider as he fought the impulse to flex his muscles. He also recalled the day he saw you watching him through your telescope and said, "I've got a knot in my back from training for the last two weeks. I've had enough of lying on the ground. This is our bed, and from now on I'm going to sleep in it. If you'd want to join me, you're more than welcome to do so; if not, the bathtub is still available.”

You opened your mouth angrily and closed it again. “I— This is— I am not sleeping in the—”

Your eyes darted around the bed, clearly searching for something to impale him with but your eyes only landed on a pillow. Whack. You raised your hand for another one but Stephen caught it before you could hit him again, trapping it against his chest. Clamping his lips together to keep from laughing, “(Y/N)—lie down. Go to sleep. Nothing has changed. Unless you want to ask me something?”

“You better sleep with one eye open.” You yanked the pillow from him.

Stephen chuckled before turning away. “Good night, (Y/N).”

“Shut up.” You fell asleep long before Stephen did.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

"There you are," Tom's smooth silky voice interrupted your thoughts, "May I? Princess?" He looked pointedly at the space beside you on the marbled bench.

"Mister Tom," you referred to what you called him when you first met him, "You may."

"I was expecting I'd see you again but I didn't expect to meet you again in this way," He chuckles softly and takes the seat beside you.

"So did I," you lightly nodded, "I thought you were being taught your father's trade? Why is it that you're now a soldier?"

"Well," Tom clasps his hands together, "The Kingdom I lived in has been invaded and I've come here to seek refuge."

As you were informed of the devastating information, you let out a muffled gasp, and the emotions on your face became more serious. Since you haven't received any information of an invasion, you are now curious about the location of his previous home. If the Kings were aware, then they have done an excellent job of keeping the population in the dark about it.

"I-I'm so sorry to hear that," You paused, "May I ask which Kingdom?"

"Eivengard."

Your eyes widen. Eivengard? The mysterious land, a place where the trees come to life and magical animals lurk, is home to people who are said to use magic even today, despite the fact that no one has ever provided definitive evidence to support this claim.

"Eivengard? The mysterious Kingdom? You lived there?" You asked Tom fascinated, "Can you tell me more about your home? What was it like?"

Tom smiles at the way your eyes sparkled with curiosity as you turned your body to face him, "I don't mean to brag but It’s going to take more than words to describe its beauty, I would have to take you there."

A small smile stayed on your face, "Really? Is it true that the trees there are alive? Can you describe the Enchanted forest to me?"

Tom nodded, "The age of the magical woodland is incalculable. It reeked of age.Its earthy scent was caused by the centuries-long process of branches breaking off in the forest, falling to the ground, and decaying in silence. The composting, organic smell rose up in waves like a mist. Every towering tree that I had walked underneath brought to mind a vigilant watchman or a stoic guardian watching over the groves. If you decided to venture deeper into the tangled heart of this primaeval forest, you'd hoped that it would reveal its dark secrets.

The more you ventured into it, the more mysterious and bewitching it came out to be. Huge roots sprawled out over the ground and twisted in a manner reminiscent of the broad backs of aquatic monsters. The vegetation grew dense and lush, creating an arch of enchanted-looking greenery over your heads as it spread out. The arthritic and twisted branches of the tree were dropping its abundance of nuts onto the walkway below. Briars, brambles and berry trees flanked the trail, making it impenetrable on either side.

There is a wide glade, where the trees fell away, revealing the bespeckled sky. During the evening the last of the morning’s stars glinted like silver pin pricks, luminous and bright. The ore gold moon would hang quietly in the distance, casting a honeyed sheen over the trees.When I was younger, I used to sit with my back against the trunk of a tree that had been struck by lightning and watched it fade away. And as if on cue, an avian aria would erupt from the knot of trees. The solitary songbird was soon joined by his beaked companions, creating a symphony of song.The song has a wistful quality to it, as if it were an elixir for the spirit. The woods' honeyed aroma would wash over me, and I'd let myself be lulled to sleep by the reassuring warmth of it."

You sat there with your mouth gaping as Tom's words painted vivid pictures in your mind of the amazing things he saw in the enchanted forest, "Wow. I, too, want to experience that.”

"Well you're going to have to come to Eivengard with me—when it's safe, of course." Tom's grin grew wider as he saw the expression of amazement on your face; it was unlike anything he'd seen before, "I forgot to say this when we met; You are breathtakingly beautiful, Princess."

You elicit a shy laugh and look away slightly, "How many girls have had the privilege to hear that come out of your mouth?"

"Only yours."

Stephen, who was in the corridor on the upper level, discovered you and Tom engaging in a conversation in the courtyard. The man's jaw clenched and his blood began to boil as he heard the sound of your gentle laughter rebounding from what Tom was saying to you,"Unfamiliar, my ass. Is this how one acts when you're unfamiliar with someone?"

"There you are Sire!" Luke, Stephen’s appointed stylist for the wedding, ran to him and bowed, "You are to be fitted with a uniform for your wedding next week, please come with me."

Stephen switched his attention back to the courtyard, which is where he had last seen you and Tom before you disappeared. His chest tightened up at the idea that the other man had whisked you away to a place where you would be alone yourselves. He couldn't shake the notion that he should go seek for you, but he knew that coming with Luke was his only option at this point.

"Your Highness?" Luke glanced at the direction Stephen was facing.

"Yes, yes. Lead the way."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Stephen stands at a platform with his arms stretched wide as the tailor measures his body. Andrew and Ben sat on the sofa in his room while Stephen complains about how it was stupid for you to have a male ward when, clearly, they now decided to also train women, “I know that look from a mile away, he’s definitely have feelings for her.”

“I don’t understand why you’re getting upset, your highness. Isn’t she getting married to you?” Andrew asked politely, causing Ben to chuckle at his question.

“They’re engaged and that didn’t stop him from running back to his ex-girlfriend when he realised the weight of his responsibility,” Ben answered and received a death stare from his cousin, “What? I’m just stating the truth. You don’t know what you want—You should’ve just been honest with her and told her you were confused instead of telling her what you told her.”

“Wait. . . can we just rewind because I am confused. So he told her that he felt the same and then he changed his mind and chased after someone else?” Andrew furrowed his brows while trying to understand the whole ordeal between you and the Prince.

“Correct.” Ben replied.

“Wow, that's cold.”

“Both of you do know that I am right in front of you?”

“Yes, we do.” Ben smiled, “And we don’t care—Now I’m actually curious on how you’re going to write your vows for her.”

Andrew’s gaze flicked towards Stephen who was thinking rather deeply, he needed to make it sound convincing not only for you but to all the people who will be invited. Stephen sighed heavily and caught Andrew’s gaze.

“I honestly don’t know, I can give it a try after this, but I can’t guarantee how convincing it’ll be.”

“Just write something from the bottom of your heart,” Andrew shrugs.

“Why don’t you grab a servant nearby to scribe, let’s get this over and done with.” Stephen adjusted his posture, trying to stay still to not get pricked by the needle. Andrew went out to find a servant and called in the first one he saw.

“Your highness,” The servant girl lowered herself to a curtsy.

“Yes, yes—grab a pen and paper and write down the things that I’m about to say.”

“Yes, Your highness,” She immediately grabbed a pen and paper on one of the desks and anticipated for the Prince to open his mouth and say something.

A few minutes pass by and Stephen still hasn’t said a word, “That’s a real tear jerker, cousin.” Ben slowly clapped his hands and shook his head. Andrew on the other hand pressed his lips together to prevent a laugh from escaping his lips.

“I’m thinking alright?” Stephen snapped at Ben, “Okay. . . (Y/N), of all the people you've met and places you've visited you ended up here—with me. It is a very powerful and humbling fact.”

“Are you serious? That sounds like a eulogy,” Ben grimaced as he interrupted Stephen’s train of thought.

“You will be the clouds and I will be the sky. You will be the ocean and I will be the shore. You will be the trees and I will be the wind.”

“For the love of God, I almost threw up—Are you writing her a song or what?”

“Why don’t you write it then!?”

“It is kind of hard to write a vow when your heart isn’t fully set on her.” Andrew shrugs.

“And is yours set on someone?” Stephen asked the younger man, who nodded without hesitation, “Good, write one for me then.”

“You can’t be serious right?” Andrew chuckles. His smile faded when Stephen only gave him an expectant look, “With all due respect, Your Highness, that is your vows to her, it has to mean something to you.”

“I’m sure whatever you write will be the exact same as how I feel.”

“No it's not.” Ben opposed.

“Well it’s either write me something or both of you will have to listen to the pathetic lines I could think of.”

Andrew and Ben looked at each other, “How long does it have to be?” Andrew asks.

“Make it straightforward and concise. I don’t want anything long.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The last time you saw Stephen was during your argument—both of you have been preoccupied with preparing for your wedding and the only time you’d see each other was during breakfast, but even then, you didn’t speak with one another.

Today was the day that Alcina arranged for you to try on wedding dresses, shoes and jewellery—of course, Tom was there with you. Each time you came out from the dividers wearing a white dress, he always had this wide-eyed, slack jawed expression. Air whooshed from your lungs, and the entire Hall seemed to fade away, going silent as you stared at one another. Your heart thumped heavily as your hands spasmed open and then closed. He was staring at you, but so were the Ladies-in-waiting. Asha, particularly, noticed how Tom looked at you with heavy admiration.

As you turned around to face the mirror and admire the dress, Tom came closer after noticing the healing scar on your arm, his eyes lingering on the corner of your mouth, “You were hurt,” It wasn’t a question but a statement uttered in a hard-as-granite tone. “You can be assured that will never happen again.”

You became rigid as Tom's gaze collided with yours through the mirror and remained fixed on you. Even though you knew that he couldn't see your eyes through your veil, it still seemed like he could since his gaze was penetrating, as if he could see not only through you but also into you.

You made an effort to shrug off the emotion, but the more he maintained your sight, the stronger the sensation became. You attempted to ignore it. It had to be his eyes, specifically the colour of them. Indigo has such an unusual and beautiful shade. While gazing into their eyes, one's mind may wander to many other places and times.

“Alright, Lieutenant, allow our bride to admire her beauty not her scars,” Alcina gently pushed between you and Tom and he broke eye contact and pivoted toward the entryway. Your breath left you in a ragged exhale, your heart hammering as if you were running across the hills.

“That was…intense,” Asha murmured.

You blinked, giving a shake of your head as you turned to her. “What?”

“That.” Her brows were lifted, “You and Sir Thomas staring one another down. You two were engaged in a rather heated one on one just now.”

You could feel warmth creep into your cheeks. “He’s just doing his job. . .”

Asha lifted her brow, “Oh really?”

“Yeah, of course.” You smoothed your hands over the lap of your dress.

“So, he was just making sure you’re still alive and—”

“Breathing?” Both of you were surprised by Tom's suggestion. He had moved with the stealth of a trained guard and the silence of a ghost, and now he was standing a scant foot from from where you were standing, “Since I am responsible for keeping her alive, making sure she’s breathing would be a priority.” Your shoulders stiffened. How much had he overheard?

Asha made a poor attempt to smother her giggle with the back of her hand. “I’m relieved to hear that.”

“If not, I’d be remiss in my duty, would I not?”

“Ah, yes, your duty.” Asha nodded in scepticism, “I’m sure you can accomplish your duty over at the couch there Lieutenant, let us help the Princess choose a wedding dress. . . you know, for her wedding?”

Tom chuckled at the lady emphasising the word ‘wedding’ twice, “Of course.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“I would like to spend the rest of my afternoon in the garden, call for my mother also, please.” You told Asha, “Prepare some tea for me at the gazebo—I’m craving scones and jam, so please give me a fair amount.” You kindly requested from Asha who nodded.

“Right away, Princess. I’ll tell the chef.”

“Care to join me, Lieutenant Hiddleston?” you asked, even though he would be joining you regardless.

You left the room to head over the garden to have some tea. You glanced over at him as the marble staircase curved. He had one hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his waist.

He looked over at you then—more like he looked down at you, even though you were a step higher than he was. He was still taller, which seemed unfair. One dark brow rose, his gaze questioning.

“What?” You asked, heart seizing as you lifted your foot but not high enough. You tripped. Tom reacted fast, curving his hand above your elbow, steadying you. Embarrassment flooded your system as you muttered, “Thank you.”

“No insincere thanks are required or needed. It is my duty to keep you safe.” He paused, “Even from treacherous staircases.”

You took a deep, even breath. “My gratitude are never insincere.”

“My apologies then.” It wasn't necessary to see his face to know he was grinning, and you could guarantee the world was better for his smile. Silence reigned after you reached the second-floor landing, and he had become silent. You went downstairs, through the hall, and out the stairs to the gardens by turning to the left. Tom walked all the way to the end of the hall and opened the large oak doors, touching your shoulder with his arm. Before proceeding up the tight spiral staircase, he waited for you to arrive. The space was drenched in natural light thanks to the ovular windows.

“Watch your step. You trip and fall here, you’re likely to take me out on your way down.”

You huffed, “I won’t trip.”

“But you just did.”

“That was a rarity.”

“Well, then, I feel honoured that I bore witness to it.” He retorted back and a giggle elicited from your lips. He was speaking to you in a way no other person did— besides Asha. Not even Stephen had been so…familiar. It was as if you had known each other for years instead of hours…or days. The comfortable way he was talking to you was disconcerting.

You take your time admiring the newly watered plants under the sun that often shines warmly. You wander down the perfectly laid cobblestone paths that lead between the brightly colored plants with Tom patiently following behind you.

“What’s your favourite flower?” Tom asks, noticing how you’d stop from time to time to admire each time as you walk by.

“Snowdrops.” You answered easily.

“Why’s that?”

You slowed your pace so that you’d walk side by side with your Lieutenant, “Because it’s the first flower to bloom at the end of winter—it also symbolises hope.”

“Do you want to know a story about the Snowdrop then?” Tom asks and you look up to him with the same curiosity, “Legends has it that the snowdrop flower was born out of an angel who fell in love with a human girl, seeing her heart broken and shedding tears—he wanted something to comfort her in her despair, the angel picked up a snowflake, throwing it up on the Earth to cheer her up. As the snowflake shattered, it became a symbol of new beginnings and of hope. And everywhere the snow landed, snowdrops grew.”

“Wow, he must’ve loved her so much. That’s quite a short love story.”

“Thank you, I just made it up.” He said proudly.

“Well aren’t you quite a story teller? Have you ever thought about becoming a writer?” You tilted your head and he offered his hand for you to hold as you approached the small staircase of the gazebo.

“No but now that you’ve suggested it, I just might.” He chuckled while pulling the chair out for you, “Are you aware that you will be heading to Autumn shores tomorrow?”

“Yes, I am aware—I also heard that there won’t be any carriages?”

“Unfortunately, no. The King doesn’t want to catch any unwanted attention, therefore you will be riding with me. But rest assured that I will be riding gently, so as to not hurt the child you're carrying.” Tom left a fleeting glance on the stomach you didn’t bother to hide.

“Who else will be travelling with us?”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The fact that you were expecting meant that travelling would take at least one day longer than usual. You embarked on your journey surrounded by Stephen, Andrew, Ben, Oscar, James, and Asha, in addition to eight other Royal Knights.

After travelling for a few hours to Autumn shore, you no longer need to depend on your imagination to understand what Tom had meant when he stated that you would be riding with him.

There wasn't much room to move between the two of you. Although you sat up straight and tried your best to ignore the sensation of Tom's arm being wrapped around your waist, the pace was challenging. Even though it wasn't a full gallop, the rigid stance rapidly became difficult and painful since you weren't accustomed to the way a horse moved this slow. With each passing hour, you inched closer to Tom until eventually, your back was plastered against his chest, and your hips were cradled by his thighs. At some point, the hood of your cloak had slipped off your head, and you chose to go about without it, in part because you were curious to feel the breeze on your face.

And in part due to the fact that each time Tom bent down to talk to you, you were able to feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek. You'd be correct. This was completely unsuitable for a woman who was engaged to be married. Or, at least the way it felt to be held by him felt inappropriate for you.

Stephen, in the meanwhile, was overcome with an overwhelming sense of wrath, which he characterised as a burning sensation in his gut and a sensation that he swore made him feel his temperature increasing. Despite the fact that it seemed like a living, breathing entity was attempting to claw its way out of him, he became entirely indifferent to the experience. He merely galloped out on his horse, glaring viciously at the man who was behind you while simultaneously observing how at ease you seemed to be in his arms.

Stephen squeezed so hard on the reins of his horse that his knuckles became white, yet he was oblivious to the fact that he was doing it. It disturbed him that you were so familiar, and he felt a wave of envy coming on that threatened to sweep him away. Growling possessively, he was already having a hard time restraining himself from acting on the notion of shoving the guy back and stealing you away from him.

Ben's eyes darted between you and Stephen, and he took the executive decision to block his cousin's vision in order to prevent himself from becoming more agitated. "Stare much harder and you could just wind up murdering someone," Ben warned his cousin.

Stephen overcame his reluctance to turn away and once again resisted the desire to declare out that you were his and to voice his ownership of you. He was well aware that Tom's clear sentiments for you would not be altered in the least by this fact.

An ugly, insidious feeling crept into him and he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “If I do, I order you not to stop me.”

Tom should hear the conversation and discreetly chuckled to himself. It was not hard to notice the way Stephen looked at him, he'd been at it for hours—he was just acting as if he didn't see anything.

When Ben found a suitable spot to spend the night to rest, he made a gesture with his fist for everyone to stop “We camp here, the sun is setting.” The commander dismounted his horse and the rest followed. Before Tom could have the chance to carry you down, Stephen made his way towards you and pushed himself in front of the other without being discreet about it.

Stephen assisted you off the horse with so much care before turning towards Tom who simply backed away, looking unbothered. You felt worn off and Asha came to your assistance, leading you to a tree stump to sit down on.

“She’s carrying my child, I hope you understand.” Stephen addressed Tom quite arrogantly.

“I understand fully my Prince,” Tom replied but shakes his head, “I’m just a bit wary that you might hurt her, and I can’t allow that.” Tom uttered without thought and by hurt, he meant emotionally.

“Hurt her? I'm not going to harm her. You, on the other hand, I'm going to destroy—if you don’t back off.” Stephen seethed closed in on Tom who stood his ground unfazed, both men sizing each other up, faces inches away from each other.

James who smirked at what was unfolding blocked your line of sight. You were already stressed enough, he thought that you didn’t need to see that.

“How are you feeling?” James asked, fixing away your stray hair that fell on the side of your face and removed his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

“I’m just tired.” You weakly sighed and smiled at your brother. Your back was slightly hurting but you didn’t want him to worry. James glanced and noticed that Andrew and Ben had pulled Tom and Stephen away from each other. He then squatted down in front of you.

“Can I?” He asked to touch your stomach.

You nodded with a tired smile, “Of course.”

“Have you decided on any names yet?” James asked and gently placed his palms on your lower abdomen.

“Stefan for a boy and Sersei for a girl.”

“Does it have to start with an S?” James creased his brows, “Stefan sounds awfully like Stephen—I like Sersei though, it’s a beautiful name.”

“Stefan means victorious and that’s what I want him to be.” You told James as-a-matter-of-factly.

“And what about Sersei?”

“Sersei means bird, I want her to have as much freedom and have high ambitions.”

James casts you a proud gaze, “Well then, I can’t wait to meet my future niece or nephew,” James leaned closer to your stomach and whispered, “Make sure you take after your mother okay?”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Deep in the night, Stephen struggled to sleep—mainly because of the little ordeal he had with Tom. During dinner, they didn’t stop glaring at each other, their negative energy and tension so strong that it became awkward every time someone made conversation. He tossed and turned in his make-shift tent. Unlike everyone else, you got to sleep in a proper tent with your brother keeoing an eye on you.

The fact that he could hear Ben and Asha, probably making out, thinking that everyone was asleep was beginning to drive him insane. Tom who was trying hard to ignore them as well, placed his satchel over his ears in an attempt to block out the noise.

Behind Ben and Asha, Stephen sighed softly in his pretend sleep.

“We can’t do this here.” Ben’s strained whisper echoed too loud in the silence. Despite his words, Asha grinned and pressed closer—everywhere—until his own hips rolled in response, grinding her against him. Slowly at first, then faster. Ben lay back on the icy ground, his head drooping as his eyes remained tightly closed and his breath came in short gasps. His throat started to groan, “Someone might see us.”

Asha responded by tugging at his belt. Ben's eyes widened in anticipation as he stretched into her touch and savoured it. “Let them,” she said, each breathing a pant. Stephen wanted to throw up having no choice but to listen to this so he sounded another loud cough.

“Ashana—”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” Ben's fingers curled tighter around her hips as he sat quickly forwards, pressing her lips to his.

Stephen coughed again, much, much louder this time. Ben didn’t register it. With Asha’s hand slipping into his undone trousers—her tongue hot against his—he couldn’t have stopped if he tried.

With an aggrieved sigh, Stephen pitched upright and interrupted loudly, “Hello?! Yes, pardon! As it seems to have escaped your notice, there are other people here, trying to SLEEP!” In a low grumble, he added, “Though clearly those other people will soon shrivel up and die from abstinence.”

Tom, who had his back turned toward the other three, had to make himself laugh silently as his shoulders jerked up and down and his stomach ached, tears leaving his eyes; the fact that he had to keep himself quiet made the scenario much funnier than it already was.

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#stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch imagine #benedict cumberbatch x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you

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mercurydancer · 1 year

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Hi! Really random question but your depiction of Maul is by far my all time favorite, and I would really like to know how do you think Maul would feel about rollercoasters? I know, I know, a really dumb, random question, but I was at the Universal parks in Orlando these past few days and looking up at the newer coaster they have (the Velocicoaster, it's Jurassic World themed and fast as hell) and I don't know why but the thought of "Would Maul like the adrenaline of rollercoasters?" just poofed right into my mind. Like, would he like them or is there something about the whole thing he would avoid? the that got me thinking, how would Savage and Feral would feel? (I just re-read An Unexpected Chance and the three Oppress brothers are living in my head rent free lol) And then having them on the brain got me thinking about Eeth and Agen since they're Zabraks too would they like rollercoasters too? Then that lead to what about Tiq and Plo and MACE?? Like the wait time was about an hour but I spent a good chunk of it trying to think all this through XD Idk I just want all these characters to be happy and have fun at theme parks and live their best lives, Maker knows they deserve it :') Anyway, sorry for the long ass, random ask, but this is all buzzing in my brain and I need to get it out to someone lol

EXCUSE? Your FAVORITE?? Not even just. One of, THE favorite? Shut the fuck up, you're trying to kill me. That is entirely too nice.

Also, aside from that. Your ask ate my brain.

Enjoy

“You’ve literally never been to a theme park?” Anakin asked, staring at Maul as though he’d grown another head.

Maul leveled an unamused stare on him. “Why would I want to?”

“They’re fun?” Anakin answered, his brows rising. “You get to go somewhere where there’s no consequences for going really fast, no one is in danger, and you get to just have fun for a day.”

Maul’s mouth curled, but before he could answer Ahsoka plopped on the back of the chair next to him. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Maul’s never been to a theme park.”

Maul stared at Anakin, waves of betrayal and annoyance and…

“YOU’VE NEVER BEEN TO A THEME PARK?”

Oh…here it came…

“No,” Maul said, “between freeing slaves and attempting to free my Brothers from Dathomir, I did not have the time.”

Both of them got very quiet, “Oh,” Ahsoka mumbled, “yes, that’s…that’s very important.”

“But you have to have fun sometimes, Maul!” Anakin said, “even when you’re freeing slaves, I podraced and I was a slave.”

“Your Master made you for the money,” Maul said.

“Didn’t stop it from being fun,” Anakin kicked the chair, frowning. “But even so, your brothers are free! You’re working on finding… You know, I bet you the Clones would love to go to a theme park.”

“Anakin all three hundred thousand men could not go to the same theme park.”

“Well, no, but…we could at least take a few that might want to come?”

“Who said anything about ‘we’?”

“Where are you going?” Feral asked.

Maul closed his eyes and prayed to the Force, whatever Gods paid attention to Nightbrothers, and to the Sith itself to save him.

He opened his eyes and Feral and Savage were still there.

Fuck.

“We were talking about going to a theme park,” Ahsoka answered, grinning up at them brightly. “Have you ever gone?”

“What is a theme park?” Feral asked.

“You get to go on rides!”

Feral and Savage both stilled.

“Rollercoasters,” Maul said, “or other things of that nature. They are designed to go very fast, take you on a short track that runs up, down, side to side, and potentially upside down.”

“Oh!” Feral said, “that sounds…kind of fun?”

“No, it does not,” Maul frowned.

“You don’t know, you’ve never been,” Anakin said, sticking his nose up at him, and turning to Feral and Savage. “It is! You get to have all of the adrenaline of a fast chase or a podrace, but none of the danger. I…would admittedly like the danger, but it was the only thing that Obi-Wan let me go on when I was younger, and…I do like them. Qui-Gon doesn’t like them very much, though. He gets sick.”

“Qui-Gon gets motion sick?” Maul asked. “That might be rather funny to watch.”

“So long as you’re not anywhere near him,” Anakin said. “He threw up on Obi-Wan’s shoes.”

Maul laughed.

“Oh, that’s not a good sound,” Obi-Wan hums, and that is the moment when Maul realizes he is damned.

He is damned, because the Force, the Gods of the Nightbrothers, and even the Sith itself have all conspired to force him into this position, and he hates it.

“Be nice, Obi-Wan, he can’t help he laughs like that,” Ahsoka said.

Maul hated everything.

“What is the reason for the laughter, if I may ask?” Obi-Wan asked, choosing to ignore the comment.

Good choice.

“We’re talking about going to a theme park,” Anakin said. “Maul, Feral, and Savage have never gone. We also were talking about maybe taking some of the Clones?”

“We’d have to rent out the theme park for over a week!” Obi-Wan said. “We can’t just bring some and not all.”

“I mean we could do it, though, couldn’t we? We saved all of the Senators!”

“They’re busy rebuilding the new Senate building, they don’t have the means,” Obi-Wan denied. “But maybe we could ask…”

“I’ll ask,” Ahsoka beams, “Feral, Savage, come with me! And call…Cote, he knows how to look very polite.”

Maul blinked, watching as she grabbed his brother’s hands and dragged them out, Anakin following. Maul looked to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan just grinned.

Fuck.

Maul was staring at a theme park.

This in itself would have been bad enough, but he was somehow staring at a theme park with an entourage that consisted of Feral, Savage, Ahsoka, Anakin, Agen, Depa, Eeth, Mace, Plo, Qui-Gon, Tiq, Yoda, Yaddle, a handful of Brothers that decided that they would like to come, and a massive amount of Clones. There were also plenty of other Jedi, but they were keeping their distance and had spent more time mingling. Boba had also come, with Bail and Breha who were taking care of him while his father got his shit together, and of course that meant that Padmé was also there.

Maul still did not understand how this had happened. All he knew is apparently Ahsoka had asked his brothers and Cote to all stand there and look very sad when Ahsoka explained that they had never been to a theme park before.

Somehow, the combination of the Jedi having saved the Galaxy, the Clones having been trained from decanting to be Soldiers, and the Nightbrothers having been slaves from birth had combined to the agreement of a special day that was to celebrate them, as well as show off to the Galaxy how good the theme park was. The tradeoff for a free time was basically lots of publicity.

Maul hated publicity.

They were making a speech, Maul could see, not really paying attention to what they were saying, but aware of how they were speaking of the importance of joy, of laughter, and talking about how important it was to give it to people that had never had it.

Maul wanted to roll his eyes. They had joy, and plenty of laughter, and he could tell that his brothers were shifting, something unhappy buzzing in their souls. The Clones, the Soldiers also seemed a bit unsure, but…

Free theme park.

For more than a week.

And then they finally opened the gates, clearly hoping for a massive pouring in… But they had forgotten that the people they were welcoming had been slaves and soldiers and also Jedi – who were naturally repressed.

There was no rush to the gate, the people applauding as they walked through in their lines were forced to applaud for much longer than they clearly had hoped for.

That was funny.

They finally made it through, were told to ‘cut loose,’ try what they wanted, everything was open, everything was free, including the food. They had typical theme park fair, which…was fine. Maul thought. He hadn’t ever had any.

He’d find out.

They finally made it through the gate which closed behind them, there was a pause as the Nightbrothers and the Soldiers all clearly waited for someone to tell them what to do…

“Find a ride!” Ahsoka yelled out, “AND START, PLAYING!”

There was a pause, and they finally started to drift. The Nightbrothers stayed close together, Maul very aware of the small kittens that they were walking with, carefully protected in the center. They had heard that the theme park was meant to be fun for children, and both the Clones and the Brothers had brought their younglings with them. And then, of course, Ahsoka had grabbed his hand and was beaming at him.

“Come on,” she said, her eyes wide and delighted, “we have to try a roller coaster!”

“Must we?” Maul asked, but it was over before it had begun, finding himself running after her as she dragged him. Anakin was right next to him, and then his brothers were coming. They ran towards, predictably, the biggest, fastest looking coaster in the entire park.

Maul noticed though, that as they ran, a few more of the Clones and the Brothers began moving faster towards whatever caught their eye. He could see his Brothers pointing out different rides, crouching down towards the kittens, speaking to them quietly.

Maul still did not know how he felt about the kittens.

They were very small.

There were still reflections in their eyes when he looked at them. Reflections and glimpses of happiness, but also terrible pain.

Everything was still confused. Tiq said it would get better, and had been working with him to put together his memories. There was so much to sort through… But his introspection was solidly interrupted at the sight of the coaster before them.

Ahsoka looked up, and up…and then turned to him with the biggest smile. “You ready for your first roller coaster?”

Maul stared at it, felt his mouth twist at the corners.

“Yes!” Feral called out, standing next to him. “Do you mind if I steal my twin?”

Ahsoka grinned, and let go of his hand, Maul finding Feral’s grip on his other hand suddenly, looking up to his brother.

“You want to go together?”

Maul sighed, “fine.”

And then they had walked into line and were lining up. As they walked through the empty walkway that was meant to force them into some manner of order, Maul watched as more Clones and Brothers lined up. There were no younglings, all of them too small, but he noticed a few of the Clones he knew.

The blond one that had been there for Boba, had taken the name Rex the last he’d heard, was following up Anakin, Anakin striking up a happy conversation with him.

They were getting closer after that, joining in the conversation, and Maul was happy to see that his Brothers were doing the same.

Feral grinned at him and Maul found himself smiling back without hesitation. It was a…strange reaction, one he was not used to, but did not mind.

They finally made it to the coaster itself, standing there for a moment as they decided where to sit, before Feral tugged him towards the front. Maul followed without thought, Savage behind them. The coaster was divided into six separate cars, four seats within them, and Maul was surprised to realize it required them to stand up. Each individual seat would adjust to the height of the person in them.

“Well, at least your legs won’t be dangling,” Feral grinned, waggling his brows at him.

Maul sneered.

One of the operators approached – also a Zabrak, a wide grin on her mouth. Feral’s hand tightened on his own, and Maul held tight, taking a step forward. She paused for a moment, her gaze darting between them and stopped a reasonable distance back, that smile still on her mouth. Maul in that one moment was grateful. Her smile was warm, and there was no hint that she had meant to get closer, no hurt, and nothing to suggest that she was annoyed.

“Hello,” she said, “welcome to the Jackhammer,” she grinned with all her teeth, “before I let you on, I am going to ask that you put these…” she lifted up a series of caps that Maul realized would fit on their horns, “on the horns most likely to hit the seat. Thank you for your cooperation, as soon as you have them on we’ll get you situated in your ride.”

She went down the line, another working from the back of the car, the two of them handing out caps.

Maul sighed, working them on his horns, Feral and Savage doing the same, and finally going over to adjust themselves in the seat, the other operator helping them get situated and buckling them up, making sure they were in place and situated.

It was a remarkably efficient thing, and Maul wondered mildly about the term ‘jackhammer.’

He had a feeling that some of the non-Zabraks weren’t about to have a good time.

Once they were all adjusted they turned their attention to the Operator, who was grinning at all of them.

“Hello everybody and welcome to the Jackhammer, we are going to take you 62 meters up, drop you at 90 degrees, roll around at a lovely and brisk 70 mph, and take you on more loop the loops and hops than you want to think about. If you’re not seeing stars by the end of it – you’re not on the Jackhammer, thank you for riding~”

She had pressed the button to start the ride before any of them had time to process, the car rolling forward quickly before the chain caught hold of them, slowly beginning to ratchet them up.

Feral was suddenly leaning over. “Maul, Maul, what did she mean seeing stars? Are we going to be okay?”

Maul paused for a moment, realizing that the end of the chain was coming up shortly, they were getting higher and higher, the view expansive. There were so many Clones, there were so many Brothers, and the realization that a few of them had started to run, to push at each other… Maul was suddenly in a good mood. He turned to Feral.

“No.”

And then they were going straight down as the chain released them, and Feral and Savage were screaming.

Maul laughed.

And also found that he was right.

Maul knew what the coaster was going to do, could predict what the forces would be, his natural affinity with machines and with the forces that worked on them meant that it was nearly impossible for it to surprise him. There was not much adrenaline, his body shifting slightly to prepare for each wild loop, and bounce. The speed was nice, and his brothers’ shrieking was also nice, but…

It wasn’t precisely…exciting.

He figured that was alright though.

They finally made it to the end of the coaster, the stops jerking them to a halt, Feral and Savage heaving for breath. Maul couldn’t help the grin on his face.

They were released from the seats, and Maul turned to Savage and Feral, who were staring at him…

Maul took off the caps on his horns, put them where they belonged, watching as they did the same…and then ran.

They chased after him.

Maul led them on a wild chase down the exit ramp, laughing all the while as they hollered various threats, amusement nonetheless burning bright in the words, and in their auras.

Feral finally caught hold of him as Maul decided he was done running, lifting him up, and for a moment Maul did not understand where this was going, and then Savage clocked his head against Maul’s own at a high rate of speed.

That was adrenaline.

It was a very SOLID thunk! Their horns interlocking and the feeling of another Zabrak latching on after the headbutt was a burst of adrenaline and amusement, and Maul grinned wide.

“Upset?”

“I thought we were going to die,” Savage said.

“I thought that was part of the appeal?”

THUNK!

Maul laughed, Feral dropping him down and thunking him a couple times as well.

“Alright,” Maul laughed, “I’m sorry,” he grinned. “Shall we go on another?”

“Yeah, sure!” Feral beamed.

“Another big one?”

“Why not,” Savage agreed. “Did you enjoy it?”

“It was…alright,” Maul said. “Your reactions were enjoyable though.”

“Happy to please,” Feral rolled his eyes and Maul grinned.

They walked through the park, talking to various Brothers, and Clones, meeting up with Padmé for another ride. She smiled wide, hugging them.

“I’m so happy you’re all here,” she said, pulling back. “Come on, let’s go.”

They met different people as they went through various rides, Maul finding that the rides were nonetheless mostly the same.

Maul rode with Tiq and Plo once, finding with surprise that Plo rather loved roller coasters. They were safe adrenaline, as Plo put out, and they weren’t dangerous enough to threaten his rebreather, so he could ride safely. Tiq enjoyed going with Plo because he went on the bigger ones.

And then he found Depa and Mace and the realization that there were racing coasters was enough to get them on a coaster together, while Anakin, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were on another. Qui-Gon was looking a particularly interesting shade of green, Savage and Feral cheering for them, planning on racing the winner. Maul couldn’t help but laugh.

Naturally, their car won, leading to much consternation and yelling from Ahsoka and Anakin.

Obi-Wan pretended to be above it until Maul informed him that it was about as slow as he was. And then he was perfectly interested in sassing.

Maul didn’t give him the opportunity.

Agen and Eeth were more than happy to join them for some of the rides that were too violent for humans, whooping and hollering all the while. It was funny watching Agen tease Eeth, and Maul was happy to bask in the feeling of their amusement, their happiness that they were there, they were safe.

They found Yoda in the kiddie area, as well as a swarm of kittens listening to him talk about Jedi stories, their eyes wide, purring all around.

They immediately jumped on Feral and Savage and Maul when they saw them, happily yelling out about how happy they were to see them. Maul still did not know how to feel about that.

In the end…Maul thought it was not that bad, though the roller coasters remained the least favorite. There were a few that went in different directions, and he didn’t mind the ones that threw a curve at him, but most of the time they were…pleasant. Which he didn’t think was meant to be the point, but he found that while he was not sure about the rides themselves, he more than enjoyed the company.

Maul had been alone for so long…he was getting to the point where he could feel the edges of his tolerance fraying, but it was not…entirely unpleasant.

They finally sat at one of the tables after they had ridden so many rides Feral’s legs were like jelly. There was amusement burning between them, Maul finding that he had been in more hornlocks than he had in his entire life. There were Clones around them, ones that he did not know by name yet, but ones that immediately recognized them.

They were very happy to talk, sharing snacks, and discussing what else they were planning on doing.

It was getting dark by the time they were on the last ride, and when they came in for a halt the sight of fireworks lighting up the sky signaled the end of the day, and a celebration that would last most of the night.

All in all…not that bad of an experience.

Maul would never admit it.

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artisticdemon · 7 months

Text

Book Review because I'm Bored (1)

~Heartless by Marissa Meyer 💔

Leave if you don't want any spoilers because I AIN'T holding back.

Ok, you're still here, let's gooooo!

I was drawn in by the cover, the queen's face with the thorns around it, and bought it immediately. An origin story for the Queen of Hearts? Sold! Also, I do that quite a lot, I read the last paragraph and that made me wanna buy it right on the spot.

The story grabbed me and never let me go till the end, the scenes that were introducing the characters were top-notch. I didn't expect the action to be this good, to be honest. When I read that it includes a love story I kinda rolled my eyes a bit because love stories in many books are meh but if they are written properly then yes hit me up. And this one was good.

I was rooting for Catherine and Jest to escape and live their life and I can't count the times that I screamed at Catherine's cowardness and not taking her life into her hands despite her place in society. Someone will say that it wouldn't be easy but she needed to try and fight more! I hate it when people in books and in real life go down like that! Also, her mother can shut the Hell up. QUIET YOU OLD HAG! She was the typical oppressive mother that you want to scream at till your vocal cords bleed and put her in her place and show her that you are not a kid anymore but a person with feelings, needs and dreams.

I could talk about her mother for hours but I need to continue!

The Mad Hatter stole the show for me, his scenes were wild and entertaining and I actually used the scene where Kath asks him to become her business partner for a university project. That's how much I liked it. He was an antihero a bit in my eyes but still meant well and he did nothing wrong! NOTHING! Those pumpkin seeds were planted there by accident! He did nothing wrong! Also as I was reading his parts I could only see him as Undertaker from Black Butler XD I don't know why but it fit somehow XD

ANYWAY!

The secondary characters were fun and interesting too, especially Cheshire but he gets a pass because he is my favourite in general. Cheshire is there for the gossip and helps only when it suits him and this is very clear in the final act of the book.

The Kingdom of Hearts was full of people that wanted to have fun and not take themselves seriously and the King is a prime example of that. He wasn't bad or evil but really out of place. And when you have to deal with a threat, you need to be serious. And so needed the people of the kingdom.

Sir Peter was a scary enemy, the scenes with him and his wife sent chills down my spine because I could feel that these two were up to no good. And I knew his wife was the Jabberwock. I just knew it and it was confirmed when he built a giant pumpkin cage. Like, who are you putting in there Peter? //__-

Also, I didn't really understand how time works in Chess and in the Kingdom of Hearts so I need to read these parts again. But it had a nice touch, I was very anxious at some parts that time would run out. I don't know XD

At some point, Jest suggested a solution to their problem, telling Cath if they do a chess move the war will stop and they could live together in Chess. Yes, they were supposed to do a chess move and that part fried my brain because I don't know chess. I only know the pawns' names. And that's enough.

Now let's talk about the Sisters!

First of all, I loved how the author used the concept of the number 3, Fate and Fates from Greek mythology and the concept we have for Fate and I will share it with you: No matter what you do you will never escape it or change it, you will just stall it for a bit till she finds you again and I loved that! And I'm pretty sure you have heard about the number 3 and its meaning in folklore and myths.

Oh my Ghoul, I couldn't put the book down from chapter 42 till the end. It had gone dark and I loved every second of it, it was a horror movie on its own! When Jest, Catherine and Hatter entered their domain and the Sisters started asking for the heroes to hand them over something till the end in the courthouse I wasn't breathing from the anticipation. I felt trapped in that place too.

The journey and the desperation of Cath to change her fate and her transformation from a girl in love with dreams to a heartless creature was so macabrely beautiful and I didn't expect Jest to die to be honest, I thought he would survive but the pictures the Sisters had drawn were not there just for decoration. But his death should have been more dramatic. Give us the ANGST, HURT/COMFORT Marissa! But I feel like his decapitation was symbolic given the fact that's the Red Queen's choice for the whole series.

The change in Catherine's character it's amazing, she basically says to everyone who was controlling her life that making her the Queen will be the biggest mistake they ever made. And how far she was willing to go to find Peter and bring him to justice. I wanted her to be more cruel and don't hold back the things she wanted to say to everyone after the final battle but she didn't! I was like "Girl! They screwed you over! Scream at them, don't hold back! Make them cry! YOU DON'T HAVE A HEART ANYMORE!". But what ended up happening, in my opinion, was ok.

I visualize everything when I read and this made the experience so much better. I really loved the book and I hope Marissa Meyer writes more fairytale-inspired origin stories because she is so good. And the villain of the story for all of us XD

8 out of 10 black hearts for me 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

#book review #book recommendations #heartless #red queen #the queen of hearts #marissa meyer

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naoyaslut · 2 years

Text

The Hills Ch. 11

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ ONLY

pairings: ran haitani x !femreader+18 feat. rin haitani, kenji oh

warnings: profanity, cigarette smoking, shoplifting, voyeurism (not really), fingering, light somnophilia, creampie, light-yandare ran,

wordcount: 7,071

a/n: if i missed anything, please let me know.

t@glist: @alice-smutthoughts , @dumbbitchuni-versity, @renxnana, @pulchritxde , @baggymcqueen @tojitsukaisen

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirst-teen Fourteen Fifteen

It was well after 2 PM in the afternoon, and you were still sleeping. Ran watched you from his spot at the doorway of the master bedroom a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He wanted to talk to you. Well, he wanted to question you. Ask about what occurred down at the precinct.

Drawing in a deep drawl from the cigarette, he turned his gaze back to the living room to the sound of his brother’s voice.

“You’re just going to let her sleep all day? I thought you were trying to get information.”

Ran shrugged expressing the cigarette smoke from the corner of his mouth before taking another drag.

“I do want information.” he paused smoke billowing from his nose as he began to speak again. “Look at her, she’s exhausted.”

Rin stuck his head in the bedroom a slight scowl forming on his face before turning to Ran.

“It’s not normal to sleep for 14 hours. Wake her up so we can figure out if we need to do something about this.”

Rin stepped away from the doorway while Ran remained holding his cigarette stiffly between his index and middle finger.

Stirring groggily from your slumber, you sat up tiredly groaning in disgust at the heady scent of the cigarette smoke that had settled in the air.

“Ah. She wakes.” Ran mumbled turning to stub out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

“Ran...” Rubbing your eyes sleepily, you took in another deep breath. The scent of that cigarette was heavy causing your stomach to churn with nausea. “Ugh.”

You never did well with cigarette smoke, cigars okay. But there was something about menthol cigarettes specifically that made your gut turn.

Stumbling off of the bed, you quickly went into the bathroom closing the door lightly behind you. You threw up. You blamed your weak constitution; it seemed like everything had you spewing your guts into the toilet as of late.

Ran lightly rapping on the door brought you out of your misery if only briefly with him cracking the door. Sticking his head in through the opening he raised a brow as he looked down at you.

“You alright?”

Nodding slightly, you flushed the toilet before standing turn towards the sink to brush your teeth.

“Yeah.” you swallowed unintentionally, causing you to cringe in disgust. “Can you open a window? I can’t deal with the cigarette smoke it makes me sick.”

“Clean up and meet me in the kitchen.” He ignored you pushing the door open a little wider. “Need to talk to you.”

Ran shut the door after leaving you in the bathroom alone. Staring dumbly at your reflection the residual fog of sleep began to fade from you, leaving you wide open for the events of last night to return to you.

You nearly collapsed, everything coming back all at once. Identifying Suzu’s body, Hanma nearly assaulting you at your place of work, and Kenji who was supposed to be a friend locking you in a jail cell. Lying to you about your brother’s case. How he signed off on the paperwork knowing damn well Shinjiro didn’t kill himself.

You could feel a headache coming on, every single thing you were thinking about was sad and oppressive.

You took longer than you intended in the bathroom, opting to shower to clean yourself up. Your eyes were still sore from your episode of every emotion under the sun.

Pulling on a shirt of your own and a pair of sweats, you pulled your hair into a low ponytail so it was out of your face. Ran was in the middle of his kitchen staring across the way at his brother, Rin. The two of them stopped talking when you entered, Ran glancing at Rin out of the corner of his eye.

“Um...” clearing your throat awkwardly you stopped mid stride bringing the opposite hand to rub at your forearm nervously.

“Come here.” Ran said, his attention solely on you. Rin remained quiet sitting at the end of the large marble table, eyes following you as you crossed the room to get to Ran.

Standing in front of him you lowered your eyes towards the floor avoiding eye contact. Your emotions were already well on the way to overwhelming you and you were sure if you looked him in the face, you would end up reduced to tears.

As the two of you stood in silence you could feel Ran’s hard gaze falling over you, as if he were looking for something obvious. Something that would be sticking out like a sore thumb.

Curling his index finger along the angular of your jaw he tilted your face up toward him so that you were making eye contact. His eyes were half-lidded, that familiar easy-going smile on his face nowhere in sight.

He looked agitated.

Turning your jaw off to the left, he continued to look you over and then dropped his hand back to his side when he was satisfied.

Baffled, you turned away from him before rubbing at the nape of your neck.

“Ran, wh-”

“Did Hanma touch you?” Ran interrupted you, causing the rest of your sentence to be lost in the midst of your throat.

You stared at him wide-eyed unable to form a comprehendible sentence. You stammered over your words taking a step away from him.

“He...” Taking your eyes off of him momentarily to gather your thoughts and failing miserably. Once your eyes returned to the flat expression on his face you could feel your vision beginning to cloud over in a bleary haze.

Your nerves that had been wound so tight over the past day abruptly began to unravel as an uncontrollable tremor shot through you. You began to sob, uncontrollably, the tears you thought you’d been holding in coursing over the balls of your cheeks with your hands twisting in the fabric of his shirt.

Between that and Suzu’s death you couldn’t breathe, every breath you took set your lungs aflame in turn forcing you to curl further into Ran’s abdomen.

Ran’s arms enveloped you as he pulled you closer to him, his hands fanning themselves along your lower back to console you as much as he could.

“It’s okay.” he cooed one of his hands resting at your nape and rubbing in a soothing manner. “C’mon tell me everything.”

Pulling away from him to wipe at your tears you took in a deep breath that was meant to ground you, calm you down so that you could speak more clearly.

Rin was still watching with interest from his seat, leaning against the table propping his chin up with an open palm.

“He Uhm.” you began to speak again, steadying your breathing as Ran stared down at you. “He showed up around lunchtime I guess... kind of caused a scene at the front desk with my assistant. She was going to call the police but I told her I would take care of it.”

Using the sleeve of your shirt to wipe your face, you sniveled again continuing your summary of events.

“He brought a message from Suzu and said that she asked him to give it to me. After that tried to force himself on me.”

You paused, making eye contact with Ran. A rather stoic expression had befallen his face, eyes piercing your own with an intensity you didn’t know he possessed. It caused you to stop explaining, but his palm guiding your face up towards him convinced you to continue.

“Nothing happened... Yoko came back to check on me and then he left.” Taking another deep breath, you felt the sting of tears beginning to brim your eyes again.

“Then after that Kenji called me to identify a body, it was Suzu. She died sometime last night.”

Ran hummed gently, pulling you into another embrace resting his chin atop your head as his eyes traced towards his brother still sitting in silence.

“I... I confronted him about my brother’s autopsy report. That’s why he put me in the holding cell.”

“Interesting,” Rin commented from the kitchen table a sigh following after.

Ran chuckled bitterly to himself, guiding your lips towards his offering you a soft peck on the lips.

He had a feeling that something along those lines had happened down at the precinct. After identifying your friend emotions were probably all over the place and anything could have slipped out afterward.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have my phone with me the majority of the day, my meeting ran longer than usual.” He kissed you again, his palms on either side of your cheeks holding you steadily against him so you couldn’t move away. “You scared me for a bit. I should have been there with you, all of it could have been prevented.”

His hands began to wander, dropping from the cusp of your jaw down to your shoulders and then to the narrow of your waist. Dragging you closer so that you were at rest in the split of his long legs, his arms engulfed you in an almost overbearing embrace your face smothered by the expanse of his chest.

Jumping in surprise at the warmth of Ran’s hands trailing underneath your shirt and grazing the underside of your breasts you inadvertently mewled beneath him as his lips found yours once more.

Rin still watched, unmoved the sound of his chair scraping against the tile gaining the pointed gaze of both you and Ran. Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you stared embarrassed almost forgetting that Rin was in the room altogether.

“I’ll leave you to this.” Rin muffled as he headed towards the door. “You let me know what you want to do.”

Opening the door to the entrance of the penthouse he stepped out nonplussed about leaving so abruptly. The door clicked shut and you stared behind Rin only momentarily before your eyes went back to Ran who had never even bothered to take his eyes off of you.

His gaze honed down onto you, fingers idly swiping at the dampness along your cheeks that was almost dry from your crying earlier. He seemed to be in deep thought, possibly going over the events from the last day.

Snapping him out of his stupor, you leaned into his arms finding their place around his waist just to enjoy his warmth.

“Ran...” as if you could push yourself closer to him you held onto him tighter. “I-”

“Shh.” Ran shushed you, kissing the top of your head softly. “Let me take care of it. All of it.”

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

“Oh, you’re lucky they don’t lodge a formal complaint. The last thing we need is for one of our largest donors to pull out of the pot.” Keishin folded his hands tightly together resting them on his desk.

Kenji stood on the opposite side of his desk jaw clenching tightly in aggravation. Haitani did in fact contact the Chief of Police about the little incident that occurred last week down at the precinct.

“He wants me to fire you for that shit you pulled.” Keishin stood up shaking his head in discontent before throwing both hands up in the air. “What would possess you to throw his damn wife in a holding cell? She couldn’t have caused you that much harm. What was the issue anyway?”

Wife. Kenji scoffed attempting to bury his own frustrations. Y/N was not his fucking wife. Somehow Haitani had managed to manipulate her after just one introduction from Suzu. Fucking Suzu.

“She came down to identify a body of a close friend of hers. She went ballistic afterward, I had to do something.” Kenshin sucked the back of his teeth fingers idly scraping at the nape of his neck.

Keishin sat back down running a hand over his face clearly just done with the whole situation.

“Are you going to fire me or not?” Kenji asked, the annoyance very clear on his face.

“You’re not fired, but this is your only warning.” Keishin’s hard gaze became serious, all annoyance going out of the window. “Stay the hell away from his wife, we need all of the money we can get to at least try to fix this police station.”

Stay crooked Keishin.

“Right, you got it, sir.”

Kenji excused himself from Mr. Himura’s office, leaving the precinct to go take care of more pressing matters. He was seething. Nothing had gotten under his skin like this in a long while. Not only was y/n digging into her brother’s suicide, she somehow obtained records that were sealed. This was starting to get messy. What sense did it make for her to go back looking into that when she’d gotten the closure beforehand?

You were his. You were so close to being his all over again. So sweet and pliable, and now thanks to Suzu everything has gone downhill.

“Suzu, you bitch. Dying didn’t even stop any of the problems you ‘caused, now I have to clean up your mess.”

He had to find a way to get you out of Haitani’s reach. You were only a plaything, you had to be. Haitani has no real reason for keeping you around, other than just to spite him.

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

“There have been some issues with Shen as late, we can’t depend on him as a distributor anymore. Not until we figure out what his issue is.” Sanzu sat across from Mikey in his usual seat in the conference room. “We’re basically cut off, and need to find someone else to supply us.”

Mikey hummed indifferently as he continued to spin himself in circles in his chair. Clearly, his mind was elsewhere.

“What do we know about that?” Mikey asked. He pressed his feet onto the floor beneath him to stop the spinning of his chair.

Hanma frowned slightly running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Suzu may have been feeding Oh info.”He shot Mikey a glance leaning back against his seat. “I knew she was the whole time, I told her we were planning on killing Shen. I’m pretty sure it got back to him.”

The whole table was silent, Mikey staring blankly at Hanma. His face was still unreadable.

“What a shocker, a whore not being blue to keep her mouth shut,” Rin uttered from the other side of the table. “Hanma, you and your pillow talk.”

“We knew that there was a leak on the inside, guess we found it,” Sanzu said, eyes bright with mirth. “And who would have guessed it was Hanma’s bottom bitch.”

Mikey canted his head in curiously, leaning across the table towards Hanma. “You took care of that right?”

Hanma nodded, his face still purple and bruised from the beating that Ran had given him the other day. “Yeah.”

Mikey clapped his hands together one time and returned to his reclined position in his seat. “Finally, Hanma being useful.”

Ran listened to the conversation in silence there was one answer to a question that had been at the back of his head. But y/n most definitely didn’t need to know the details. Suzu was dead, telling her the truth wasn’t going to bring her back.

“How did she go?” Sanzu asked curiously, a widening grin slipping across his face. “Probably laced coke, that would have been the easiest.”

Hanma simply returned Sanzu’s facial expression, both had an unfiltered fascination on their faces as if this was the most interesting conversation in the world.

“Well, that makes sense. I guess this is the center of our Shuroi Ryu problem.” Mikey laughed quietly under his breath, standing up to stretch both arms over his head. “I’m certain there will be some shit that pops off soon. Just be vigilant”

Everyone in the room turned towards Mikey, eyebrows raising in confusion at hearing him use such a big word.

“Keep your ears open, and let me know if you hear anything on the streets.” Mikey turned to leave the conference room, with Sanzu following him out of the meeting room.

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

Two months. Two months of Ran demanding that you don’t leave the penthouse without him. There were times you were allowed to leave with Hideo, the driver. But even then, that was just for Hideo to escort you to wherever Ran may have been.

Bonten headquarters. A restaurant downtown, strictly to have dinner with Ran. A short visit to a small boutique to pick up something he had custom-made just for you, or his monthly visit to the high-end salon where he got his hair dyed and trimmed.

You didn’t blame him. He didn’t want you to get into any more trouble, but you were becoming impatient. There was no more talk of Suzu, nor were there any updates on Kenji or your brother’s case. Ran said he’d take care of it. You believed him, but you wanted to know something, anything. You were going stir-crazy while you were alone during the day, he didn’t even want you going back to your own office.

What in the hell were you supposed to do? Tonight, you’d bring it up. You needed an answer, you needed something. Ran did say he’d be home early tonight. It was already eight o’clock and his dinner was getting cold. Luckily, you’d already put his meal into one of the meal prep containers he kept in one of the cabinets and set it aside on the counter as you began to clean up.

There was no telling when that man would be back. Shrugging in indifference you put his dinner into the microwave, intending to leave it there while you went to go shower before bed getting ready for bed.

Wrapping yourself in your own robe, you stepped out of the master bathroom to the sound of your cellphone chiming with an incoming text message. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you viewed the incoming text message in silence.

Kenji [8:46 PM]: Come talk to me. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.

You stared at the message blankly, already knowing that even thinking of meeting with Kenji was a terrible idea. It had been over two months since that incident down at the police station. Why was he reaching out all of a sudden?

If Ran knew that you were still humoring conversation with Kenji he’d be pissed. Against your better judgment, you responded with a message hoping that he would get the hint.

You [8:51 PM]: You’ve had three years to tell me what you knew, please don’t contact me again Kenji.

Locking the phone, you threw it behind you on the mattress determined to ignore any additional messages that may be sent from him. Pulling both legs up from the floor and onto the mattress, you began to secure the sash around your robe rearing back in surprise as the room door opened.

Ran stepped into the bedroom pulling off his suit jacket before throwing it on the edge of the mattress. Sighing in relief, you turned towards him offering him a faint smile before inching closer to the edge of the mattress.

“I didn’t think you’d be home tonight,” you said, watching him as he continued to strip down to nothing but his boxer briefs.

“I said I’d be here.” he hummed, gathering all of his articles of clothing to throw them into the hamper in the corner.

When he returned, he climbed on top of the mattress wading along the comforter until he was in between your legs. Leaning forward, he buried his face into the column of your neck to start his nightly ritual all over again.

Ran seemingly loved to indulge in you. Every chance he got he was on top of you, hands roaming over your curves before burying himself inside of you. You didn’t mind the attention; it was one of the things you looked forward to after being alone all day.

He was drunk. Or at least slightly intoxicated. You could smell the faint traces of alcohol on his breath, the bitter odor causing your nose to wrinkle in disgust. Even though he’d discarded his clothes, you could still smell cigar smoke and whatever else in his hair and on his breath.

Whining in a complaint, you pulled away from his lips that nipped along your collarbone to remind him of his dinner. He probably needed to eat something anyway.

“Your dinner is in the microwave, aren’t you going to eat?” Ran huffed in annoyance, fingers hastily pulling at the satin tie about your waist so that your robe fell apart.

“Dessert first.” he purred, briskly pushing the hem of your robe over your hips.

He wasted no time shuffling down your thighs using both hands to pry your thighs wide open for him.

“Ran wait-” you complained, startled at the unsuppressed aggression.

He paused, eyes glinting with confusion and then seriousness. Holding his position steady, he kissed over your inner thigh before pulling away and sitting up on the edge of the mattress.

“Go ahead.” turning to swing his legs over the edge of the mattress, he stood sauntering across the room to enter his walk-in closet.

Sitting upright, you fixed your robe watching him disappear into the closet. You could hear him shuffling around inside, probably grabbing a towel or something for a shower.

“Have you heard updates about Suzu?” you asked, you still wanted to know what happened to her.

Ran called out from the closet before emerging naked while simultaneously draping a towel around his slim waist.

“Her case is still being investigated, sweetheart,” he said, the words slipping off of that silver tongue of his effortlessly. Crossing the room to reach you, he leaned forward pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“Gonna’ go shower. Heat up my dinner, will you?” he left you sitting on the bed as he walked away disappearing into the bathroom.

You sat on the bed for a moment or two before the sound of the shower running broke your concentration. So, no new updates. Unwillingly, you got up to do what he asked walking into the kitchen to reheat the meal you had prepared for him earlier in the night.

Mulling over the events that had happened over the course of the past six months, you contemplated on what you could possibly do next. Kenji was still reaching out to you and he could possibly have the answers you were looking for... but he could also be lying out of his ass.

There was no way in hell you would be able to talk to him with Ran so adamant about staying away from him. If Suzu had any answers, those died along with her a while ago.

Ran finished his shower, stepping back into his bedroom and putting on a pair of sweats to shield him from the cool air of the penthouse. Taking his towel through his now damp hair, he began to dry it listening to the faint sounds of you shuffling around in the kitchen.

The sound of muffled buzzing caught his undivided attention drawing him towards the center of the king-sized mattress.

Standing over the bed, the faint glow of a display wrapped in the comforter now had his full attention. Both of those finely arched brows of his shot up in peaked curiosity. It was your phone; you still had that damn phone and Kenji Oh’s name was plastered on the screen from an incoming call. Humming in discontent, Ran held the phone in hand waiting for the call to drop.

“He’s still reaching out?” Ran sighed, turning the phone over to remove the battery along with the SIM card. He intended to destroy the damned thing; he’d buy you another one tomorrow.

Snapping the sim card in two and throwing it down the toilet was one thing, breaking the slim phone in half was another. There wasn’t an excuse good enough for him that you needed to hang onto that phone, it was garbage.

Sitting Ran’s dinner down on his dining room table, the sound of his bare feet padding against the wooden floors brought you out of your own muddled thoughts. You jolted in a panic when your phone, now destroyed was dropped onto the table beside you. He strolled past you in such a casual manner sitting in front of his dinner and began to eat as if nothing had happened.

Your eyes danced from your distorted cellular device; which was nothing more than a twisted block of aluminum and then back to Ran unsure of how to react. That phone had all of your information in it. Your client’s information and what family you had left.

Wordlessly, you continued to gawk at the hunk of metal before turning to Ran. You wanted to make a fuss. You were concocting a plan but that just literally went up in flames before you.

“Ran, that-” you stuttered, eyes wide in disbelief. “My whole life was on that phone! My work, my clients, e-everything!”

Ran was clearly unbothered. He merely looked up from his plate and shrugged.

“It’s just a phone, sweetheart. I’ll get you another one tomorrow.” He mumbled, shoveling another fork full of his dinner into his mouth and humming in approval.

You were at a loss of words, panic lodged in the back of your throat. What were you going to do now? How were you supposed to find out the answers that you wanted? Ran clearly was in no rush to get them for you.

“Oh, still reaching out to you it seems huh?” Ran cleared his plate, throwing a long arm over the back of his chair.

Your eyebrows creased in frustration as you retorted, picking up the now useless piece of metal.

“He’s reaching out but-“

Ran interrupted you, his eyes reflecting the severity of his words.

“You know this to keep you safe, right?” He clicked his tongue pushing his damp hair out of his face. “You’re too damn naïve. You have no regard for your own safety. Just think about all of this for a minute.”

You knew he was right. You both knew he was nothing but. But the feeling of dread that had seemingly overcome you was threatening to swallow you whole. Without thinking you turned your back to him while trying to hold back the mess of tears that were threatening to fall free from their confines. You didn’t want him to see you crying over something that could easily have been remedied. You were pissed.

“You think you know what’s going on y/n… but there's a lot of shit that you have no idea about.” Ran picked up his plate and moved into the kitchen to put it down in the deep sink.

Your eyes were on his back again watching him quietly as he washed his dish, you assumed. The silence creeping over the kitchen makes you nervous. You were thinking, you were hearing everything that was said, but you still needed answers.

“Ran, I understand that bu-“

The shrill echo of broken glass cut you short, your attention focused on Ran’s tattooed back as he leaned in hunched over the counter. He was tense, and whatever he broke was still down in the sink itself.

“Just do what I told you to do until we figure this out.” The words were gritted out, his body language rigid and both hands gripping the edge of the counter.

His voice was low, filled with indignation. Afraid to irk him any further, you dropped the broken cellular device on the table and retreated back to the bedroom before clambering back into bed. You assumed that Ran just needed to sober up, so you gave him some time and waited for him in bed.

You were long gone in a deep sleep when he found himself underneath the blankets, drawing an arm around your waist as you slept.

He pulled you closer into his hold, watching as you shifted lightly exhaling a small sigh of contentment. The action didn’t wake you; you were still snoring softly shuffling every now and again as the pads of his fingers danced across your skin.

“Baby,” Ran mumbled, pulling the fabric of your robe away to expose your shoulder. Kissing over the back of your shoulder his hand slipped between the plush of your thighs prodding at your bare cunt.

You shifted again, groaning at the action still shackled by the depths of your content slumber.

Ran inched closer, abdomen pressed firmly against your back while the hand between your thighs shifted to grasp the back of your thigh, lifting the limb before shoving his knee between. He watched you again, your lips parting as he skimmed his middle and index fingers across the heat of your pussy, teasing the slick entrance.

“Baby…” he tried again, flexing his hips against your backside as he eased a finger inside of you. You were drenched and completely unaware as his middle finger slid in with little to no resistance.

That got a hushed mewl from you, hips shifting into the friction as if you were begging for more. But the gesture stopped almost as soon as it started as you remained slack face nuzzling further into the comfort of your pillow.

“Come on pretty girl, wake up.” Ran said, shifting from behind you so that he rested between the apex of your thighs. Resting your calf over his shoulder he inched his face closer to your cunt, index and thumb spreading the plump lips of your glistening pussy.

Licking a flat stripe along your folds, his mouth latched onto your clit eliciting a startled whine high-pitched and needy. That slightly aggressive friction from his lips suctioning over that sensitive bud awakened you from your slumber abruptly, your thighs immediately clasping tight around his ears.

“Ah!” you keened in surprise, back arching up and off of the mattress as your eyes snapped open in confusion.

Groggy and on the verge of an orgasm, you peered between your legs to lock eyes with shinning wisteria veiled orbs that seemed as if they were glowing in the darkness of the bedroom.

“R-Ran.” you whimpered pathetically only able to fumble out a slew of curses as the wet friction from his tongue sent your nerves into a frenzy.

“She’s awake.” Ran purrs in between swipes of his tongue, the vibrations from the timbre of his sweet voice causing your thighs to shake uncontrollably.

“Ah, please...” your words were still heavily laced with sleep, shifting your hips forward to meet the heavy strokes of his tongue. You were desperately and failing to try to chase after the climax that was

so close yet so far away. You felt like you were going to explode. “Close...M-make me cum.”

Ran pulled back hesitantly ceasing all friction against that sensitive button, wiping at the corners of your mouth that were now slick with your arousal with the back of his palm.

Ignoring your complaints of being left high and dry, so close to an orgasm that you could practically taste it on the tip of your tongue. He patted the inside of your thigh urging you to turn over.

“On your stomach,” he ordered.

His words didn’t register immediately, you were still blinking away the haze of sleep until your eyes landed on the obvious bulge from his length resting along his thigh.

His lips were now upturned into a rather facetious grin while pulling the band of his sweats down so that his dick sprung free.

Your eyes widened in unabashed admiration as you watched him grab the base of his cock pumping lightly an opaque sliver of pre dribbling over and down the side of the ruddy tip. Leaning back on his haunches he groaned in anticipation, mumbling under his breath. “Come on, don’t make me tell you twice.”

Nodding slowly, you did as he said turning over so that you were on all fours. You could feel his hand slipping underneath the silk robe you were still wearing, palm flat and piloting your upper half down until your chest was flat against the mattress.

You shuddered at the feel of his cool fingertips traveling askew so that they were at rest at the plush of each of your thighs, the feel of his prodding at your slick hole causing you to gasp in surprise.

At this angle, he felt big. Bigger than usual and you were having second thoughts.

Sucking in a deep breath, your body tensed as you felt the fat tip of him pushing into the well of your warmth with a good bit of resistance on your side. It wasn’t too painful but you could tell that Ran thought otherwise when he paused his venture hovering over you.��

“Are you okay?” the words were ground out, his breath coming out in short pants. He wanted to force his way inside and you were tempted to let him. “Just relax.”

His hand smoothed over your back as he spoke and you simply nodded resting a cheek on the back of your palm.

In another stroke, he was buried within you pushing past any resistance your body was giving him. He was nestled so deep inside of your guts, that you could have sworn that you felt him nestled against your cervix.

Ran hissed in appreciation both of his hands now gripping at the curve of your hips, allowing you to shift and adjust to the feel of him.

“How are you doing?” he asked, his fingertips squeezing your hips affectionately.

You were still holding your breath, lips parted as you learned further into the back of your hand. You felt incredibly full, the throb at your core coming back tenfold.

“M-more please.” you quivered, near in desperation as he began to rut into you almost as if to hollow you out.

And who was he to deny you what you were so eager for? His movements were slow and controlled as he pulled his hips back, slowly slipping back into your warmth.

The pair of you were now coated in a thin film of perspiration, the ragged sounds of Ran’s breath hovering beneath your ear as he leaned over you, leaning his torso to push you further into the mattress. With every push and drag of his hips, you could feel every vein and ridge gliding along the cushion of your soft insides.

You whimpered after he hit a particularly deep spot within you, a gush of air shooting from your lungs in a hurry as you whimpered underneath him.

“N-no,” you were whining underneath the slow and steady assault the loud smack of his balls against your ass making you blush in embarrassment.

“No?” Ran questioned, pushing himself deeper inside of you ushering yet another helpless whine.

He drove into you over and over, the thick of his cock nudging against your cervix at every push and pull. It was painful at first but with every stroke of his hips delicious friction, your cunt began to pulse in need of his touch.

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, drool leaking from the corners of your mouth over the back of your palm and into a sodden puddle against the sheets underneath.

You decided against speaking any further, settling for the soft groans of pleasure that came with all the work that Ran was putting in behind you.

He was close, you could tell by the way he almost painfully gripped your hips surely to leave bruises in the morning. His abs were taut against your lower back motions becoming more erratic as his hips smacked against your ass.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling himself upright only to dig further into your slick once he had a firmer grip on your hips. “You feel so fucking good baby, I’m almost there.”

He only got a gurgled response in return your walls convulsing around his girth as if attempting to pull him further inside. He groaned again, hips stammering to an abrupt stop as ropes of his release fill you in aggressive spurts.

The feel of his warmth filling your insides triggered your own release, your legs suddenly unable to support your own weight. Crying out in delight you fell flat on your belly, swallowing down gulps of fresh air to clear the shroud of arousal that had befallen your eyes.

Ran collapsed almost simultaneously, drawing a tight forearm around your waist to pull you flat again his abdomen. His grip was vice-like, his heavy breathing filling the cool air while he snuggled further into you his erection softening inside of you.

“My baby,” he mumbled the words, obviously exhausted but reaching out to pull a blanket over the two of you. “Get some sleep.”

Maybe he was hoping that you weren’t upset with him after the slight altercation from earlier. Your mind on the other hand was fuzz. You were still caught up in the arousal-induced delirium that you’d barely registered his own words.

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

Ran did as he said he would. The next day, the pair of you left the penthouse and he bought you a brand-new phone. It was the newest iPhone, and he seemed more interested in the features than you were.

Holding out the phone in front of you, he went over a few of the features excitedly as you walked arm and arm from the store. You half-smiled at him, just relieved that you were able to retrieve your contact list from the one that was destroyed.

Things were okay, you were having a semi-decent day and on top of that, you were able to spend some time with the maniac beside you. After leaving the apple store, Ran insisted that the two of you go out for lunch. Little did you know it was a small get-together that he and some of the other executives had planned.

If you had known you would have most definitely declined more inclined to not be around any of his “coworkers”. Sitting in the back of the black town car, you were going through your purse while Ran still happened to be fiddling with your new iPhone.

For all, you knew he was turning on the location so that he could track you at all times.

Canting your head off to the side you picked up a small blue plastic case from your bag. You stared at it as if you’d never seen the item in your whole life. But you had seen it before, it had just been a long while... months even since you had touched the thing.

Your throat went dry as you continued to look at it, casually opening the case to reveal months and months worth of your birth control pills that hadn’t been touched. Closing the case, you pushed it back into the bottom of your bag sitting stiffly beside Ran who was still busy utilizing your cellphone.

A sense of dread had overcome you, that’s for sure. Nausea settled in the pit of your stomach upon the dawning realization that... you hadn’t touched any birth control for almost 6 months? Maybe longer. Taking a deep breath, you bit the side of your cheek before eyeing Ran out the corner of your eye.

“Hideo, stop by the convenience store before heading over to the headquarters building. I need to get cigarettes.”

Your nausea intensified at the mention of cigarettes and nervously you intervened resting a hand on Ran’s thigh.

“Don’t get cigarettes please,” you whined, and he simply laughed handing you your phone back.

“They’re not for me,” he added, looping an arm around your shoulders.

Following Ran inside of the small convenience store, you watched him as he slinked off shooting you a quick gander. “Stay close hm?”

You nodded as he stalked off walking down the isles until you came across a pregnancy test glancing around before you even thought to pick it up. Reading over the instructions, you began to feel even more ill. This was incredibly nerve-wracking, and there was no way you wanted Ran to even think that there was a possibility of you being pregnant.

Raising the alarm would cause more stress than anything else. Plus, you hadn’t been feeling bad or anything, and you haven’t gained any weight. Maybe you were being dramatic? Taking a test just to be sure wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Let's go.”

Ran’s voice behind you startled you out of your own thoughts, with you shoving the pregnancy test into your purse and turning around to face him. Nervously, you began to walk towards the cash register with him behind you.

“Did you need anything?” he asked, throwing his arm around your shoulders as he so often did.

Laughing nervously, you shook your head hastily.

“No, I’m fine. We can go.”

Shrugging, Ran began to walk towards the exit with you following behind him. Opening the door for you, you slid in nerves absolutely fried from having almost been caught with a pregnancy test and openly stealing from a convenience store.

Your face burned the heat of your shame and embarrassment likely getting the best of you. You couldn't believe you actually just shoplifted from a damn store. If you were caught, you would have never lived any of that down.

“I have a meeting to go to, you’re going to tag along today.” Ran mentioned off-handedly.

Clutching your purse tightly against your side you nervously tried to suggest that he leave you at home.

“Can I just... go back home? I’ll just be in the way...”

Ran shook his head, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked you over. You were dressed in one of those pencil skirts that you seemed to like so much and a cute floral off-the-shoulder top. Your hair was slicked up into a tight ponytail, curls flying haphazardly down your back. You were a sight to see. You looked casual enough, but just so no one would get the wrong idea Ran took off his suit jacket.

“Here wear this.” he insisted, eying the black stilettos you were wearing. Maybe he should have left you at home.

“Ran,” you complained about it, but you took his jacket from him resting it over your lap. “You can take me home; I don’t have to be there.”

He considered it for a moment, before shaking his head.

“Mm... we’re already late.”

#tokyo revengers smut #ran haitani smut #the hills

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