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gaysindistress · 13 days

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A Fool’s Devotion

disclaimer: shoutout to @malsorie for letting me use her stunning art. The center picture as well as the bottom one are her master pieces. All others were found on Pinterest or Google.

pairings: Minthara x f!reader (could be read as gn since I didn’t use pronouns for reader)

Summary: Only a fool would remain faithful to a coward god.

Warnings: bg3 cannon violence

Word count: 2.7k

Bg3 masterlist

A Fool’s Devotion teaser

Drifting through the stale winds of the Underdark on mushroom spores, I have finally found her.

Sitting in a cold and silent room with her chin resting on her closed fist as she watches the city from the window, I have finally found her.

Singing the songs of both her victims and allies, a reckoning begins in the hallows of slit throats and caverns of forgotten hope but I finally found her.

A paladin who’s lost their oath, willfully broken under the pretenses of another’s twisted lies, she sits with the blood of her mother caked into the creases of her hands. A daughter, once sworn to her house and to her goddess, she no longer is but in her place is a creature of darkness.

A wickedly evil thing lives in the mess that Orin made of her mind.

Darkness from the depths of Mykrul’s personal hell has crept into her heart and warped whatever demented love that Drow society left behind.

A soldier for her people, her house, and her goddess has been lost to the wild of Faerun and now only remains a soldier for herself in the haunting study of House Baenre.

Floating through the open window, I watch her stare at a distant fixated point in the city. Alone she has let her guard fall and with it, the look of desired anguish is pulled taunt on her face. The thought of not remembering her time with the Absolute must eat away at her every moment she is awake and those from her childhood must find her at night given the way her brows are pinched together. Within the red of her eyes, dry tears gather but don’t fall down on her lavender cheeks. Her lips are pulled into a tight line and her jaw is set in a similar fashion.

The veil that hides me from her view falls as my boots make contact with the floor. Like the smoke that dances above a dying campfire, I flicker into existence and come to stand beside the window facing her. Her melancholy comes off of her in waves that lap at my feet but from my spot, I’m a safe distance from her sea of emotions.

“You’re here,” her voice cracks for a moment as she speaks to me but continues to stare past me, “I was beginning to wonder when you would make your appearance.”

“There are rules, Minthara.” She interrupts me by waving me off with the hand her chin had been resting on.

“Rules that even you have to follow,” I continue, “and I tried to warn you about what would happen if you broke them. I told you what the consequences would be if you continued down this path of murder and chased a power you would never hold. I sent you all kinds of signs, omens of what your future would hold should you continue to ignore me.”

I feel those exhausted red eyes cut to me, slicing through the leather of my armor and hoping to find a weak spot beneath. When no vein is ripe for her blade, she chooses a different route to maim me.

“A power I would never hold? You are a fool if you think that I haven’t been successful in my efforts to gain whatever it is that I seek.”

A sigh of defeat escapes my lips. I’d hoped that time would ease her determined mind but from what little she’s said, I can tell that it has only made it more rigid.

“Do the consequences of your actions not matter to you? Have you no sense of self preservation?”

Her hand falls to grip the edge of her chair. White strands of hair are disturbed from her movement but flutter back around her shoulders in moments as angry water laps at my feet. I fear that if I look down I would find a stormy wave ready to overtake me so that I may feel her anguish fully.

“Without it, I would have been dead by my mother’s own hand long ago. Self preservation is what has led me to where I am now. It’s been the only thing that has motivated me when all should be lost, when even YOU deserted me.”

The hole where my heart must have once sat clenches at her words; she believes that I deserted her. When all others have left her and deemed her too maniacal for their liking, she doesn’t care because there has always been one person who remained. When everything was stripped from her and she became a plaything for the Absolute and Orin, it didn’t matter what she suffered because her heart still knew there was one person who cared for her. As Tav decided to save her from that prison and make her a part of their camp, she didn’t seek out the companion of the others because she yearned for one person alone. While standing over Orin’s eviscerated corpse, she felt relief at the reality that this monster was gone but grief that she couldn’t share this feeling with one person in particular. When the Nether brain fell and she returned to her city, she searched for this person in every alleyway and noble house alike. Laying awake at night as she tried to ease the tension that unknown horrors had inflicted on her, she prayed to me and asked me to come back to her.

Can you hear my prayers? She cried one night. Can you hear me? Or are you ignoring me, ust-nor?

My answer feels thick on my tongue but there’s nothing else I can tell her, “I didn’t intend to desert you. I had no choice. I’d been called upon and you know that I cannot leave sooner than necessary.”

She lets out a sinister, mocking chuckle as she adjusts in her chair. She’s taken on a more relaxed pose, slouching with her hands folded on her lap although it’s merely a mask. “You reprimand me for making the wrong choices when you have done the same.”

My whole body bristles at her tone, “Minthara.”

She glowers at me with a menacing stare for a moment before sweeping over my appearance. “I suppose that you’re not here for old time’s sake if you’re wearing your armor. You’ve been called here, haven’t you?”

The armor in question is a complex web of leather and spider silk woven by Lolth herself. The chest plate boasts of Her favoritism from small pieces of Her candles that decorate the neckline and to the intricate spider designs carved into the blessed leather. Trousers and boots crafted in the same fashion fit closely to my legs, both blessed by the Spider Queen to grant me advantages in my line of work. However my gloves are the true testament of Lolth’s favor; a rather unassuming set of black leather gloves that grant me the ability to paralyze any creature that I desire. A soft touch to one’s arm in passing is all it would take for the paralytic to take effect in seconds and remain in effect until I release them. They’ve been the envy of many people but Minthara, in particular, has attempted to persuade me into giving them to her numerous times.

I glance down the gloves and flex my fingers to see the lights around us disappear into their black shade.

I allow my voice to fall into a deeper and authoritative one as I ask, “What is the name that people whisper when they speak of me?”

Her eyes narrow at the change before she answers, “Dobluth.”

The outcast.

I nod my head as I move away from the window at last. My boots make small, almost eerily silent sounds as I approach her and fully look at her. Ragged is not a kind word nor is it one she would ever allow someone to call her but it’s too simple of a word to describe the state that she is in. Now that I’m closer, I can see the true extent of her exhaustion and how it has wreaked havoc on her. No longer is she the vibrant and ever imposing Drow successor but in her place is the rotting corpse of a woman who’s witnessed and inflicted far too much evil. Fatigue has dulled her senses to the point that she barely reacts when I remove my cloak and place it on the small table beside her. Crouching before her, I study her face closely when I ghost my hands up her legs and brush them against her fold ones. I take note of the way her eyes almost flutter closed and she lets out a long sigh when I take them into mine.

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

The simple command seems damn near impossible for me as she takes seconds too long to do so. She looks everywhere but my eyes at first and when I squeeze her hands, she finally meets my gaze.

“I’m the first Dobluth, Minthara. I was neither born nor created; I simply have existed since the dawn of time and will continue to exist when all else has perished. I will live in the hearts and minds of all living creatures and will putrefy with them as they take their last breaths. I will feed on the consequences of wrong doings and ease the pain of those who cry out for deaf gods as I do so. I am the devourer of all sin; I absolve souls of their weight and as a consequence, was named the first outcast, the First Dobluth. I am known by everyone yet no one knows who I am.” I keep eye contact with her as I press my lips to the top of her hands and murmur my sacred devotion to her, “No one knows me for who I am but you, Minthara. You may very well be the only person to have said my name in centuries, to know my face, to hear my voice, to have my interest. You’re the solo person who has known who and what I am but yet still chosen to be mine. My heart may no longer beat but it has found sanctuary within yours. My blood may be solidified within my veins but it flows within yours. My body may feel frigid but against yours, it feels alive once more. I may be fundamentally incapable of being anything other than a devourer but I’m sated with you and finally found fulfillment knowing that I am enough for you.”

I cup her face while keeping her hands firmly clasped in the other. Perhaps against her mind’s will, her heart allows her to lean into my hand and savor the feeling of a gentle touch. A lone tear smears against her skin as my thumb catches it and sweeps it across her cheekbone.

“I heard your prayers and I did everything I could to come back to you because without you, my existence would be a blur of fear and loneliness. There’s no reason other than to cause ourselves pain to dwell on what we wish we could change about the past but I need you to know that I never would’ve left had I known what that Bhaalspawn would do. I would’ve fought harder to stay had I known what horrors you would face by her hand. I would’ve slaughtered every cultist and their Chosen myself had I known what I do now.” Her angry waves crashed into me the moment we touched and began to form a hurricane of her emotions and mine within me as I spoke. As more determined tears fall, the hurricane crumbles into a beast of a different nature. Sorrow replaces that anger and tells her that I am here now and that is all that matters.

“You failed to answer my question; were you called here?” she murmurs.

It catches me off guard when it shouldn’t.

“I was called by you, ust-nor.”

Disgust twists her face at the pet name, causing her nose to wrinkle and brows to furrow. She pulls her face from my grasp, meanwhile against the leather of gloves, I feel the minuscule twitch of her fingers as she keeps herself from shoving me away entirely. Although I vowed to never bring her harm, she knows all too well what lethal consequences could come from irrational actions right now. A single misunderstood movement from her could result in endless paralysis with no way out.

A moment passes as Minthara presumably considers her next move. She leans down, close enough that her breath washes over my face.

“I will tell you what I told the first Oathbreaker bastard who offered me a chance at redemption; I will never be governed by another again. I will not vow my life to a thankless coward. I will not force myself to live by an oath that does not serve me nor prioritize my wellbeing. I’ve spent too long serving those who don’t care if it is me or some other mindless soldier who returns victorious. I’ve given everything I have and been forced to give even more for a cause that is not my own. I refuse to praise a god for simply allowing me to worship them.”

I wish disappointment had been the emotion that greeted me as she spoke. I wish I could say that I didn’t expect her to react this way or to say the words that she did. I wish I didn’t know her as well as I do so that this unfortunate reunion wouldn’t bring me as much misery as it does.

Sighing, I pull my hands back and rock back onto my knees. With my hands resting on my knees, I stare at her. It’s an act of submission, my stance but for her, I would strip my armor and present my weapons with a bare heart if she asked.

“If you do not wish to retake your oath, our Goddess has been generous enough to offer…”

“Fuck your goddess.”

The silence is astounding.

She gets to her feet and is at the window in one fluid motion it seems. Candle lights dance down the expanse of her back, across the pale strands of her hair and over her void like black dress. In her chair remained the forgotten over layer of her dress; a structured piece that was crafted to strike fear into the hearts of her enemies and allies alike. Pointed shoulders and gold edges give her a towering illusion that matches her confidence. The dress she still wears reminds me of what she lovingly called her at-ease clothes. It almost feels like a call back to a time simpler and much happier than now.

Almost.

“The so-called Spider Queen has no place in House Baenre.” Her voice is steady now, devoid of any previous emotion as she takes a pin from the window’s ledge and twists her hair back into place, “Soon she will find that she has no place in Menzoberranzan at all. Her effigies will be destroyed, her books burned, and her memory scrubbed from history. I had hoped that you would see reason one day and join me as I fight to reclaim the city but there is no place for a bleeding heart in war.”

Once more she has become Minthara, Matron of House Baenre.

Somewhere lost beneath the countless sins of others I have absolved lies a naive soul that yearns to take my place by her side as she becomes the Slayer of Lolth but it is that very same goddess that binds me to the floor now. Her envy and anger crackles with a ferocity I’ve seen only a few times through my body and into the marrow of my bones. Her power seethes and tightens around me when I try to push back, to stand, to move at all. It was one thing to allow me to come and speak to Minthara but Lolth is not the generous type.

“You are dismissed, Y/N.”

I catch a brief look of longing before Lolth retakes me, wrapping me in her spidery webs and dragging me back to her clutches.

“Goodbye alurlssrin.”

#minthara baldurs gate 3 #minthara imagine #minthara baenre x tav #minthara baenre x reader #minthara x reader #minthara bg3 #bg3 minthara #minthara baenre #minthara #minthara x tav #nightwarden minthara #bg3 imagine #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic

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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 years

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Let's Play Dress Up - (Comic) Lady Loki X Male Reader

Title: Let's Play Dress Up

(Comic) Lady Loki X Male Reader

Additional Characters: None

WC: 869

Warnings: Not Sylvie. This is Comic Book Lady Loki.

Tapping your foot nervously, anxiously, you waited for your girlfriend, Loki, to finish getting dressed in the dressing room. The two of you were at some fancy, high-end clothing store, one that Loki had been wanting to go to for a while.

"The furs, darling! I simply live for them! Have you seen their window collection?" She would say, grabbing your arm and pointing to the expensive furs in the store window. You'd smile at her excitement, but you weren't as excited about it. Not because you didn't love fur, but because Loki would probably buy out the entire store.

"I think we're going to have to limit ourselves." You'd say, pulling her away from the window display. "We don't want to get carried away here."

"Oh come now, my love!" She'd pout, taking your hand and leading you into the store.

That's how you were stuck in this situation. Staring at the dressing room door, waiting for her to come out with a supposedly amazing outfit. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down as much as possible. It was only natural that she'd be excited about something like this. After all, it wasn't every day that they got to go shopping together. She was usually at the Koil Headquarters, where she was CEO of the fashion industry. Which took her away from home a lot, but you and she made it through. Always finding time for each other.

You take another deep breath before knocking on the door. "Loki? Are you done yet?" You ask, pushing the door open.

She steps out, wearing a beautiful, black dress. She had pinned her hair up, looking elegant and classy. The dress was short, cutting off about mid-thigh, showing off her long legs. A slit went up the side, showing off a bit more skin than you'd expected.

"It's so pretty!" She says, twirling around. "But...it doesn't look right." She said, frowning at herself.

"What do you mean?" You asked, stepping closer to her.

"Well..." She started, blushing slightly. "I feel like it's missing something..."

You furrowed your brow, confused. What could possibly be missing? The dress looked perfect to you.

"I can't put my finger on it, but there's just something I'm not feeling."

You thought for a moment before looking around the store, spotting a dark emerald green fur shawl. You quickly grab it, holding it up to Loki. "This will add a nice touch to the outfit." You tell her, handing it to her.

She takes it from you, inspecting it. Then her eyes lit up, a smile gracing her face.

"This is perfect!" She exclaims, hugging the fur to her chest.

"Perfect?" You question, tilting your head.

"Yes! This will make the outfit pop! You're the best boyfriend ever." She giggles, spinning around again.

Placing on the fur shawl, she giggled again, before leaning up and kissing you on the cheek, leaving a faint red mark from her lipstick.

"Thank you, my love." She tells you, smiling.

You smile back at her, taking her hand. "No need to thank me. It was nothing."

She looks at you with those big, green eyes, making you blush a little. Suddenly smiling, she headed back to the dressing room door, opening it.

"I'm going to try on another outfit." She spoke, biting her lip and giving you a wink before shutting the door.

You were left standing there, your cheeks burning bright red.

Soon enough, Loki came out in a new outfit. She wore a simple white blouse, with a black leather jacket over top. Her black pants matched perfectly with the jacket, and her boots completed the look. She looked amazing, her makeup perfect, and her hair styled nicely. It still surprised you when she changed her makeup look, she was so magical.

"So, what do you think?" She asks, twirling around for you.

You take a step forward, admiring her. "You look incredible, Loki." You compliment her, smiling.

"Really? I don't know if it's really my style." She says, turning around again.

"I think it's very you." You say, placing your hands on her hips.

"Thanks. Alright, one more outfit. Then we can go, my love." She tells you, heading back to the dressing room.

You wait patiently, watching her walk away from you. You take a deep breath, then sigh dreamingly as she comes back out in another outfit. She was wearing a bodycon dress, which showed off her curvy figure quite well. The dress was a light green color, with gold abstract lines scattered throughout the fabric. She had her hair down, letting it flow freely.

"What do you think?" She asks, twirling around for you.

You take a step forward, admiring her. "You look stunning, Loki." You compliment her, smiling.

"You're too sweet, my love." She says, kissing you on the cheek.

You hold her close, pressing your lips against hers. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you closer. You kiss her back, enjoying the closeness between you.

After a few minutes, Loki pulls away, a mischievous grin on her face. "Alright, let's go." She says, walking towards the exit.

You follow behind her, too lovestruck to say a word.

#comic lady loki #comics loki #lady loki x male reader #male reader #cute #fluff #marvel mcu #mcu #not sylvie #boyfriend x girlfriend

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grumpygreenwitch · 2 years

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Writing Writing Writing #1

I’m working on a coupla things. I was going to wait until I had them finished, and a ko-fi set up, and everything queued, and so on and so forth, but my mood is nose-diving and the world continues to be on fire, and if I can cheer people up, then I will be cheered up myself. So here’s one...

Prince Adam met Linden while escaping his geography lessons.

Geography is one of those things everyone should know and no one wants to learn. The Queen Dowager had commanded that it be taught to the mob of prospective heirs to the throne that she'd gathered in the Royal palace, among with many other sciences and arts. Then again, that same august and childless lady had also commanded that they be taught the finer points of fencing, wrestling and knife-fighting, so everyone had a good, if resignedly terrified idea as to how she meant to solve the matter of succession without actually making a choice and angering a niece or nephew. However, these were also the same people who'd agreed to drop off their kids at the palace and under her supervision.

In any case, Adam had no more fondness for his geography studies than any other of the Princes at hand. He was fortunate, or unfortunate, enough that, the youngest of the candidates at nine years, by the time his geography lessons rolled around the teacher, a dour old priest of the Tree-Father, was either already asleep, or nearly there. All he had to do was read quietly, peeking up, until the man started snoring.

Which he'd done.

He'd only meant to slip out onto the balcony and sit on the ornate stone railing. But the day was lovely and still young, and he'd realized that one of the gutters ended not too far from the balcony, the spout carved like a horse's head. He'd leapt lightly onto it and charged into many a battle on his moss-painted steed before a nearby cornice had caught his eye. From there he'd climbed several fashionable false arches, like a great explorer over vast mountain ranges. Then he'd leapt and caught an old arrow-slit by his fingertips, and climbed further up, until he could tip-toe along a gutter made slick by decades of rain-feed moss.

By then he was nearly six stories off the ground.

He stalled after having raced along a lip of brick, mortar and stone barely wider than his fine leather slippers, which he'd already thrown off at some point between mountain-exploring and harpy-fighting (there had been three particularly angry swallows with nests under another balcony). The gutter there ended in a fish-head spout, and there the palace itself turned in a sharp corner, rather than a round tower curve.

Adam glowered at the lack of further road in impotent anger. After a few minutes, however, anger grew boring with no one there to look upon it, and he put his mind to more practical concerns. He was a clever young man, forced by circumstance to become even cleverer, struggling to leave childhood behind just to survive the deadly competition he found himself in. He was a lovely child, a little on the slim side, with his father's curly black hair and his mother's (and grand-aunt's) narrow, firm features, black brows and deep blue eyes, pale skin quickly growing pink because no one could keep him out of the summer sun for long.

A decorative ledge above him caught his eye. It was a mirror of the one he was standing on. On his tiptoes, he couldn't reach it, his fingers just shy of the goal. If he leapt, though...

He glanced over his shoulder. Far below he could just see the tops of the trees, swaying in the afternoon breeze like fretful nannies. Beyond them were the muddy grounds of the expanding Royal Gardens, and beyond that was the dark green smudge of the Hunting Woods. But there was no one to tell him no, and so he leapt.

He caught the ledge, and almost immediately his right hand slipped. The ledge was, he realized belatedly, much larger than he'd expected, and at a slant, meant to shed water off from whatever might lie beyond it. Years of rain had left it as slippery as the gutters.

He tried to find the ledge below his feet, but he was just high enough that his questing toes couldn't reach it. He tried to grip the ledge once again, but couldn't find a place that wouldn't spit out his fingers. His left hand was slipping, and for the first time it occurred to prince Adam that he might have been a mite unwise in his choice of entertainment for the afternoon. Grunting with effort he tried to lift himself up one-handed onto the ledge.

His left hand slipped.

Adam was weightless for a single, fragile moment, the tiny space between his heart beating and his breath catching.

Then he realized there was a small, strong hand gripping his left wrist, and looked up into the face of the most extraordinary creature he would ever meet in his life.

The stranger laughed, a merry and carefree sound, the ringing of cheerful bells. "You're not very good at this, are you?"

#original writing #prince adam #linden #the fairy and the prince

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years

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Stepdaddy

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- Its here and now I lowkey wanna write more of this)

Summary- Caught in a lustful attraction, Keanu and his soon to be step daughter, fall victim to their desire. *OFC (Y/n) is over 18. (I beg you, please don’t kill me.)

Warnings- NSFW/SMUT, daddy kink, semi-public sex, infidelity (please just read the title and summary), age gap

Keanu knew it was wrong, with every fiber in his being, from the depths of his experienced mind all the way down to the very tips of his toes, he knew for certain, it was wrong. But he couldn't help himself, for though he’d prided himself on having a strict moral code, he was, at the base of it, a man. A man who could appreciate a gorgeous woman when he saw one. If only that gorgeous woman wasn’t mere months away from being his step daughter.

From the minute they’d met, Keanu had found himself urging resistance, he loved his fiancée, he did. Caroline. She was a notable, and incredibly talented designer and they’d met when the fashion house she worked with had sourced him as the face of their fall line. Falling for hadn’t been instantaneous, instead, they’d spent a few too many nights together and gotten to talking. He’d found something in her, a resting place for his weary soul, a familiarity that had yet to be discovered in anyone else. They were both well travelled, old souls and no matter where they were, as long as they were together, it felt like home. When they’d gotten together, Keanu was positive that he’d never have eyes for another. That was, until he met her daughter.

The spitting image of her mother, thought minus twenty something years in age, Y/n was jaw-droppingly stunning. From the minute she’d walked into the room, that night when she’d returned from a month-long trip to Paris with some of her friends, Keanu found it hard to tear his gaze away. She was magnetic, far more melancholic than her mother and had this sort of dark princess, too moody to be the life of the party kind of vibe. But still, there wasn’t a soul that didn’t gravitate towards her when she entered a room. Y/n was a paradox of sorts, wildly mysterious yet disarmingly charming.

After their initial introduction, just some seven or eight months prior, she’d become a staple of their Malibu household- he and Caroline had agreed that they would move into her place on the beach; it was the one thing she’d held on to after her husband’s untimely passing and where she’d raised her only child. At first, Keanu welcomed the idea, anything for his dear Caroline, though, months later, he was slowly beginning to regret it. Especially when work had taken Caroline to Italy, leaving him to often find Y/n lounging near the poolside, with her model friends and whatever lucky man had been in her good graces at that point.

They never seemed to last; the men, and every time one stopped coming around, Keanu would breathe a sigh of relief. It was ridiculous really, but he’d somehow developed the notion that if he couldn’t have her, no one else should. He wanted her, physically he ached for her, especially after seeing how the scarce fabric of her bikinis would hug her curves. And then to add insult to injury, during the stretch of her mother's absence and the short stint of one of those overly pompous surfer boys, he’d stumbled upon the most vulgar thing on his way to his and Caroline's shared bedroom.

Well, maybe ‘stumbled upon’ might have been too generous. Maybe he’d followed the sounds of strained yelps and heavy grunts all the way to a slightly ajar door that led to Y/n’s bedroom. A peek in had proven to boil his blood upon finding her with her back pressed against the dresser, panties hanging off one of her ankles and her nameless companion jerking her body into the furniture. Part of him was illogically enraged, jealous. But another part had stiffened, hardening in his pants and when he’d found the will to rip his eyes away from the scene, Keanu had stolen to his room, taking himself in his hand after a pumping some lotion from a bottle on the nearby nightstand into his palm, grunting Y/n’s name through clenched teeth as he fucked himself. After that, it was hard to look at Y/n without thinking of what he'd seen, without wishing it had been him with her that afternoon instead.

That night, long after Caroline’s return, when they had made reservations at a nearby restaurant to celebrate the green light on her latest line, Keanu, for a few dear minutes, had been able to give his fiancée his full attention. He wished it could have lasted longer, because every time his mind wandered, it made him feel guilty, but they were just heading out through the front door when Y/n sauntered in, from a hallway off to the side, head down and loose tresses, curtain her face as she secured her phone in her large clutch. She swayed her hips slowly and thin heels thumped quietly on the hardwood. “Sorry,” she breathed absently, not looking at them.

“Glad you decided to join us,” Caroline huffed and unlike Y/n, all Keanu could do was stare. And try to not drool. Her black dress was skin tight, sporting a high slit at her left thigh as if its already lacking hem didn’t boast her smooth legs. Spaghetti straps supported a dangerously low neckline and he had to actively avoid ogling at how her full breasts seemed pushed together. A bright ruby pendant drew attention to her cleavage, while similar stones shone on the ear that she’d tucked some of her hair behind, though, none of the exquisite stones were as deep or dark as her full lips, caught in a perpetual pout.

As she lifted her head, Y/n rolled her eyes, sighing softly as she met her mother’s fallen expression, her own softening as she spoke next, “I said I was sorry,” Y/n sighed again, approaching her mother and seemingly ignoring him at her side. As Y/n leaned in to peck Caroline’s cheek though, her bare arm brushed his, and Keanu could have sworn electricity passed between them. “You know I wouldn’t miss this mom, it’s important to you.”

“I know,” Caroline smiled softly, slipping her arm into Keanu’s, “Isn’t Shane joining us?” She inquired absently as the slipped through the front door, the steps illumined by yellow, glowing porch lights.

Scoffing, Keanu barely missed the way Y/n brushed some hair out of her face as she did. “He’s…..we’re done.”

“So soon?” Keanu was the one who spoke up that time, his interest peaked. Shane had been around for longer than the others. They’d actually met him and Caroline seemed to like him well enough for her daughter.

“Mm hmm,” Y/n hummed, being the first to get into the back of the black, heavily tinted sedan so he and her mother could sit together, “He was boring.” She never came off as one interested in offering many words, and as far back as Keanu remembered, they’d only had a handful of full conversations. If it weren’t for Caroline telling him, he wouldn’t have even known that she had a job outside of lounging by the pool almost everyday; she was a fashion curator, whatever that meant.

“He’s a doctor!” Caroline defended, knitting her brows, “A doctor for Doctors Without Borders, what’s so boring about that?”

Shifting so she could look out the window, Y/n propped her chin on her hand, her elbow stationed on the door, “I don’t know,” she shrugged half heartedly, already off in her own world, “He just was.”

Keanu threw Caroline, who’d realized that Y/n wasn’t really entertained by the conversation, a sympathetic look, effectively hiding his satisfaction with how unattached her daughter was. “Alright dear,” she gnawed on her lower lip and Keanu affectionately squeezed her hand in his, “Whatever you say.”

Vacantly, Y/n stared at her half finished meal, fork held loosely between her fingers. Occasionally, when she’d raise her head to take a sip of her wine, she’d meet the sight of her mother leaning into Keanu’s embrace as they shared innocent pecks ever so often. She liked seeing her mother happy, it had been years since her father’s passing after all, and Keanu was the first person she’d let get that close, but despite it all, Y/n was still jealous. Not jealous of her happiness, but really, who she'd found happiness with; Keanu.

He was smolderingly attractive; the specs of salt in his beard, the dark locks falling perfectly over his rugged features, his broad shoulders and towering stature. Y/n could see the appeal, and she could see it well enough to want her chance at him. It was twisted, immature and he should have been off limits, but there was just something about his rich pools of whiskey that sent shivers up her spine when he laid eyes on her. And Y/n went out of her way to make sure he laid eyes on her.

It was particularly hard either; half her time back at the house was spent in a swimsuit anyway, and she’d been especially sure to wear her skimpiest pieces when she knew for sure that he'd be out on the balcony for his late night smoke. It wasn't overtly obvious, but Y/n could tell her efforts were paying off. Sometimes, depending on what she was wearing and if they were alone in a room, she could feel his eyes following her around, and then, there were some more…….unsavory things that she'd been privy to.

It had never been Y/n's intention to hurt her mother, or steal her boyfriend, but who could resist a man as magnificent. Keanu was every girl's wet dream, older, hunky and no doubt experienced, in all respects. Besides, it wasn't like she was trying to snatch him away forever, at most, she wanted to show him a good time, what her girl her age could do before he and her mom got hitched.

Speaking of the wedding.

"Y/n?" Her mother roused her attention, just as her eyes had started straying towards the ocean view offered through the window, "I’ve waiting to ask you something when we were all together, as a family," Caroline reached across the table for her daughter's hand, "I know that we haven’t been as close as we used to be before you left for college. But you're still my daughter, my little ballerina," at the words, Y/n blushed, memories of a simpler time flashing across her mind, "And I'd love it if you'd be my maid of honor."

Widening her eyes, Y/n's jaw slacked, "Mom…..I'd be honored." Mustering up a smile and doing her best to ignore Keanu. That moment wasn't about him, it was about her and her mother.

"Really?" Caroline cooed giddily, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. For a split second, a pang of guilt stabbed at her chest. Her mother was marrying Keanu. Her mother who'd sworn off dating after a horrible accident vowed her a single parent. Her mother, who'd taken her around the world as a child, along with an armory of private tutors, just so Y/n could have the best of both worlds. Her mother, and there she was, trying to seduce her fiancé. How ungrateful could she be?

Chuckling fondly, Y/n tilted her head, "Of course mom, I'd love to be your maid of honor."

"Oh! I'm so happy to hear that," Caroline sniffled, "Keanu can tell you, I've been meaning to ask since you got back. But we hadn't even started planning the wedding yet, and then I had to go to Italy and I didn't just want to spring it on you either," her smile faltered, and Y/n knew where her mother was going with that, "I know that it's been almost fifteen years, but I didn't want you to think that I'm marrying Keanu to replace your father."

The memories of him stung and Y/n had to clench her jaw as she shook her head, "I know. It's been…..a long time, since he…...doesn't matter," clearing her throat, Y/n was suddenly fighting tears, "You deserve to have love again."

"Y/n's right sweetheart," Keanu pecked the top of her mother's head, "And I'm so happy that I'm the only that gets to love you."

Even if she'd just reprimanded herself, seeing Keanu coddle her mother was still a bit annoying, and coupled with the barrage of memories shared with her late father, Y/n was starting to get the feeling that the walls were closing in on her. She needed air, fast. "Excuse me," the chair scraped the tiles noisily as she stood abruptly, discarding her napkin next to her plate on the table, "I think I'm gonna go for a walk, get some fresh air."

As she stalked off hurriedly, Y/n could hear her mother calling after her, asking if she was okay. But the last thing Y/n wanted to do was talk about it and, as she broke through the glass doors of the establishment, sea breeze blasting her face and the sound of waves crashing against the shore filling her hearts, she sighed heavily, grateful to finally be alone with her thoughts.

Replaying the past in her head, like the best parts of a movie on repeat, Y/n walked slowly along the sand dusted wooden pathway tucked against the side of the restaurant. The area was barren of all other life, and dark void of any other lighting besides what was offered by the twinkling night sky. Usually, she supposed the area was used by workers who wanted to escape the bustle without being caught, but that night, it was perfect for a young girl seeking to escape her reality.

If only for a very short while.

"Is everything okay?" A painfully familiar baritone pierced her thoughts, causing Y/n to turn around as face Keanu. His features were shrouded by the dimness, but she could identify the outline of his frame almost immediately, marveling at how much bigger he looked under the cover of the shadows.

Blinking away her tears, thankful that he could not see her glassy eyes, Y/n nodded stiffly, "Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

Shrugging, Keanu took a couple steps forward, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "You ran out of there pretty quickly," he nudged towards the restaurant, "Your mom wanted to come talk to you, but I offered to do it instead?"

"Yeah?" A sly smile broke through without her permission, and Y/n folded her arms, leaning against the sturdy guard rail, "Why?"

"I just think it's important for us to be able to have these kinds of conversations, I'm marrying your mother in a few months after all," his words seemed to shake and Y/n was beginning to wonder if concern for her was what had brought him out there. As much as people wanted to believe it, she knew that Keanu was hardly a saint.

"You're right," Y/n teased, subtly inching closer. Any trace of guilt she'd harbored was gone from the minute he'd called out to her. Maybe he should have stayed inside if he wanted to keep up the good guy persona, and maybe, just maybe, Y/n was a little too used to getting want she wanted. "Soon you're gonna be like…..my daddy," raising her brows, she snatched her lower lip between her teeth, "My step daddy," sure enough, she enunciated the word, ensuring that it dripped with seduction.

"So that's why you came out here?" Keanu scoffed, shaking his head and clearly trying to hide his smirk, "You know, you're not as innocent as your mother thinks you are."

Throwing her head back, Y/n chortled, the sound smooth like a full-bodied red, "I never claimed to be, or tired," shaking her shoulder, she was eventually looking at him again, dark, lustrous gaze unwavering, "You on the other hand…..you might have her fooled. Hell, you might have everyone fooled, except for me."

Licking his lips, Keanu hesitated before humoring her, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Don't act so coy," Y/n dismissed with a wave of her jewel adorned hand, "Tell me Keanu," she closed the distance between them, leaving a weak few inches between their bodies, "Do you always call my name when you fuck yourself?"

He knew exactly what she was talking about and Y/n could tell. She'd heard him that day, even when the door muffling her words, in particular, had rang through clearly; her name as he came sloppy all over his fingers. "You heard that?" He breathed hoarsely.

"And so much more," Y/n fingers lightly trailed the zipper of his leather jacket, and she gazed up at him through her thick lashes, daring him to make the next move. "Wouldn't you like to feel the real thing?" Y/n hummed, "See if I'm as tight as you're imagining."

"You're a bad girl," he mused, his warm palms ghosting her hips, as if he was scared that touching her would solidify the act. Still, he worked against conscience, "Say it again," he urged, "Call me that again."

Quelling a mischievous soiree, Y/n laid her free hand on his bicep, discarding her last shred of rationality, which screamed that she was possibly among the worst in the world, "Daddy," she purred. "How often do you think about fucking me, Daddy?"

"Too often," he growled, hastily shoving Y/n against the wall. "You walk around in those tiny outfits, like some kind of little slut. And you let frat boys fuck you with the door open. You're practically asking for it."

"And what are you gonna do about that?" Keanu had already hoisted her up, one of Y/n's legs hooking around his hip while the other laid limp. Her arms looped his neck as their proximity had allowed for her breast to be pressed against his chest as she kept a hand planted on her ass.

"I'm gonna give it to you sweetheart," he nipped at her neck, carefully avoiding any marks, "I wanna be a good Daddy."

"Fuck," a lewd moan escaped her lips, and the feeling of his hard-on pressed against her inner thigh was enough to drench her panties. Keanu merely felt deliciously big. When he nipped on her skin, dragging his teeth as he pulled away, she clutched his bulky arms, nails sinking into the soft leather of his coat. Y/n’s body arched into his as she threw her head back, and Keanu’s hands slipped beneath the hem of her dress, the fabric bunching up at her waist as he roamed her body. “I want you,” she whispered huskily, shutting her eyes and lolling her head back against the wall.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he mumbled, pawing at her ass, kneading and squeezing the firm flesh roughly. Wasting no more time, he shoved her panties away, setting Y/n back on the ground so they could slip down her legs and fall in a sparse pool of racy navy lace at her feet. As Y/n nudged them away with the tip of her stiletto, Keanu got started on the buckle of his belt, aided by her lithe fingers.

“What if someone sees us?” She probed, finding the zipper of his jeans and then reaching inside his pants to palm his hardened cock through his boxers, grinning wickedly at its undeniable girth.

“Look around baby, no ones gonna see a damn thing,” he offered, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “We just gotta be quick.”

Hissing loudly as she squeezed, Keanu bucked into her touch, groaning languidly when she rubbed her thumb over his cotton clad head. “Then what are you waiting for Daddy? We haven’t got all night.”

“You’re right,” he snarled, hastily collecting her in his strong arms once again, shoving her against the wall, situating himself between her spread legs. Temporarily, he clumsily squeezed one hand between their heated bodies, pushing down his underwear and freeing his cock. “You ready?” Keanu’s rumbling words didn’t await permission before he jerked into Y/n’s dripping cunt, her response reduced to hitched cry. Immediately, she could feel his veins bulging against her sensitive walls, and the slight curve of his shaft reached so deep she could have sworn she felt him in her stomach. “You cunt’s so tight babygirl, perfect for Daddy’s cock.”

The feeling of Keanu nestled in her drenched sex, his pace steady and guiding, while still bordering intense rabidity, had Y/n gasping for breath, not caring if the salty air would assault her senses. His cock expended her, almost to the point of creating the most pleasurable burn, and his bruising grip on her waist, the only thing supporting her, was like electricity. Desperate to touch him, Y/n clawed at his t-shirt, barely aware that ripping it would be an unexplainable disaster. Though, her patience quickly wore thin and she resorted to sliding her hands down the neck of his t-shirt, reaching for his back.

Keanu’s tongue, dancing around hers, tasted of the beer he’d been having with dinner, and that, coupled with the lingering Merlot on her tongue was astoundingly intoxicating. The act, the danger of being caught, its depraved immorality, was so sweet that it was drunkening. The feel of Keanu drilling into her, leading her to the threshold of sweet release was far above anything she’d ever felt. The top of his jeans, lowered only enough to allow their sin, chafed the underside of Y/n’s thighs, the friction only adding to the unmatched sensation.

“Oh fuck!” She rasped, sinking her nails into his shoulders, the words swallowed eagerly by Keanu as he rolled his hips aggressively, knowing that they didn’t have much time.

“No marks,” he managed, pulling away and pressing her nose to Y/n’s. Shrugging hastily, Keanu tried to nudge her hands off, “She can’t know.” Barely registering his words, Y/n still loosened her grip, sliding one of her hands up to disturb the neatness of his hair. Around his hips, her legs tightened, consequently restricting his pace even as she breathlessly mumbled broken pleas for him to go faster.

As Y/n’s nails scratched his scalp, one of Keanu’s rough palms deserted her hip, roaming her side, yanking down one of the thin, delicate straps of her silky dress down her arm, freeing one of her breasts so he could grope it eagerly, between moments spent rolling her pebbled nipple between his thumb and pointer. Struggling to buck her hips to meet his, Y/n could quickly feel the last threads holding her coherence together getting ready to snap. “I’m gonna…..” Y/n threw her head back, cool night air combating the heat seeping to the surface of her skin. An indecorous cry parted her lips, and she barely got the words out, “I’m close.”

“The come for me,” Keanu gritted, baring his teeth as he buried his face in the crook of Y/n’s neck, “Come all over Daddy’s cock, baby.”

Under the witness of the navy cloak, speckled with twinkling specs of white, and to the melody of foamy water sloshing beneath their shaky feet, the broil in Y/n’s stomach overflowed explosively. Stars, much like the ones teasing them from above, danced on her blurred vision as a rush of slick moisture coated their thighs, bathing Keanu’s swollen member. As she clenched around him, her legs losing sensation, Y/n felt him slow down, his thrusts rigid as Keanu revealed in the feeling.

A vulgar grunt joined their sounds, ending with a series of hitched breaths as Keanu shot generous, hot bursts of his product inside her, coating her slick walls as excess dripped between them. Sloppily and without rhythm, he rode out both their highs, his movements only slowing down almost completely as they came down.

Stumbling back as he pulled out, Keanu braved himself on the banister, catching his breath. Y/n, still disheveled, slouched against the wall, eyeing Keanu intensely as her chest heaved with deep, heavy breaths. The lingering exhilaration roused the tried smile from her and leaning her head back, Y/n let her eyes slip closed.

"We need to head back inside," Keanu declared, putting himself back together. "Tell you what," he beamed wickedly, bending near Y/n's feet to collect her discarded panties off the floor, "I'll keep these," he crumpled her thong, shoving it into his back pocket, "And you can keep this," without warning, he tossed her the same handkerchief he'd used to hurriedly wipe away the evidence from his thighs.

Before Y/n could even sum up a witty response, still in the process of rearranging her dress, Keanu was adjusting his jacket and running corrective fingers through his full, dark mane. "Don't take too long, alright?" He set off for the side entrance, "See you inside Kid."

As he neared their table, nearer to the cost booths and situated perfectly under the intimate lighting, Keanu watched as Caroline lifted her head, a worried, yet hopeful smile etched across her lovely features. He loved her. "Sweetheart," he bent, pecking her cheek quickly before settling in the chair next to her. As he did, a wave of guilt, incomparable to anything he'd ever felt before then, washed over him. He'd betrayed her, the woman he was going to marry, with no other but her own child.

"Is everything okay?" She probed gently and when Caroline looked at him, with those familiar eyes so full of love, Keanu felt like he was bare naked and blasted with frigid air.

"Yeah," he gestured elaborately with hands, trying to suppress his muddled feelings, "Yeah, why?"

"Well my daughter left in the middle of dinner and practically ran out of the restaurant and you told me you were gonna talk to her. So I'm just wondering how it went," Keanu knew it wasn't her intention, Caroline trusted him, even if he didn't deserve her trust, but every question was suddenly an interrogation, a witch hunt for the truth.

Sucking in a breath, the feel of her against him, her part breasts to his chest, the warmth between her silken legs, the taste of her skin, it all came back to him in a rush, as if he were still out there with Y/n, losing himself in the pleasure. It had been a while since he'd been with a woman that age, and with the experience he'd had then, the thrill was exalting. He wanted it- her again. But he shouldn't have had her at all. "It was good," he cleared his throat reaching for his beer in hopes of swallowing the lump in his throat. "We had a nice-"

Before he could finish, Y/n was approaching the table with a cool confidence that suggested that nothing out of turn had transpired between them. When she sat though, even if Caroline was completely oblivious, a heavy tension befell their table. "I'm back," she declared with a soft giggle, hiding one of her hands, presumably the one with his kerchief, under the table.

"You are, Keanu was just telling me that you two talked things through. And sweetie, I just want to apologize, I shouldn’t have brought him up, I know you don’t like to talk about your father,” reaching across the table, Caroline took her hand and Keanu noted how Y/n stiffened, actively avoiding him.

“I should be the one apologizing mom,” Y/n inhaled audibly, her feigned smile faltering, Y/n turned her hand over so she’d have a loose hold on her mother’s manicured fingers, “I’m sorry, about just leaving like that earlier,” for the first time since she sat down, Y/n glanced at Keanu, and he found guilt reflected in her eyes, with something else lingering beneath, desire perhaps. He held her gaze, for a little longer than he was supposed to, and Y/n was eventually the one to turn away, guarding herself as she fixed her attention on her mother once again, “I’m sorry mom.”

*****

Tagging- @crybbyren @cynic-spirit @imagine-the-fanfics

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x y/n #keau reeves fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #stepdaddy #au

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lostwithoutyouherewriter · 2 years

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The Shadow Waits for Me (Sonally Fanfic, Excerpt)

Ms. Acorn was blowing rings of smoke when he arrived.

The heiress lowered the stem of her cigarette holder as he walked down the aisle. He was still one with the darkness, but she recognized him easily enough. Classic fedora, pinstripe suit, strong racing legs... He was a real dreamboat, this hedgehog. Too bad their encounters had been purely business up until now.

It was one of those little details they needed to discuss.

He grunted. “A saucy picture show, eh? If I wasn’t a professional, I might get the wrong idea about this little meeting of ours, Ms. Acorn.”

She looked up at him past full lashes, catching glimpses of his handsome mug between flashes of celluloid. Taking one last drag of menthol, she pursed her lips together and blew. Her movements were slow, almost sensual. Let his imagination run wild, she thought. All the more incentive to take this job.

“It’s a good spot,” said Ms. Acorn, patting the seat beside her. “Call me old fashioned, but I like a little privacy when I’m trading in secrets.”

The hedgehog sat down, straightening his suit jacket. His blue quills pressed into the headrest like a ragged pincushion, but she didn’t think management would mind. This old theater had seen better days. “Well, privacy is the name of the game,” he said, “but it’s a little too public for my tastes.”

“Trust me, no one bothers you in a porno theater. They’re either too busy making whoopee or too afraid they’ll run into somebody they know. You’re almost guaranteed to have a few rows all to yourself.”

She crossed her legs, exposing tawny fur through the slit in her blue evening gown. He was making eyes at her, no mistake, and so she gave him a little smile, letting him know that it was okay to stare. “The smoke and shadows will suit us just fine for our purposes, Sonic Hedgehog. Just fine, indeed.”

Sonic leaned back, enjoying the show. “Whatever you say, doll. So, what’s playing?”

“The usual dreck. Capes and costumes.”

He whistled low. “And they added sex into the mix? What will they think of next?” A raucous boom filled the theater as one of the characters burst onto the scene, carrying the lovely heroine in his arms. “Looks like the good guys are winning.”

She scoffed, sliding another cigarette from her handbag. Flashes of white and gray moved over the screen as she flicked on her lighter. It seemed Sonic was right on the money. The superheroes were gumming things up for the villain, using some flashy gemstone and a bunch of cheap effects to win the day or some such nonsense.

Honestly, Ms. Acorn hadn’t been paying attention. If you’ve seen one adventure serial, you’ve seen ’em all. Besides, they weren’t even at the good part yet.

“Just a bunch of pulp thrills, if you ask me,” said the heiress, savoring the taste of fresh nicotine. “Good guys, bad guys, everybody out to rule the world. True heroics are rarely so black and white, wouldn’t you say?”

Sonic chuckled. He pulled down his fedora, blocking his view of the screen. “Something on your mind, Sal?”

Sally Acorn closed her lighter. “What gave it away?” She lifted the stem to her lips, taking a long drag, letting the silence stretch out for a while. “I’m being stalked, Sonic.”

The hedgehog sat up straighter, his brow furrowing. “By who?”

“I wish I knew. Call it a feeling, but somebody out there is watching me.”

“Come on, Sal...”

“I’m serious. It’s been weeks now. No matter where I am—leaving the apartment, meeting with the council, buying a magazine—I can feel their eyes on me.”

“Even here?”

“Obviously not, or we wouldn’t be speaking so openly. I swear, this creep has me terrified to walk down the street, and I don’t scare easily. You know that. But now, I’m at the point where I’ll search the apartment and close the blinds before taking a shower, and I’m on the top floor!”

She closed her eyes, realizing how hysterical she must sound. This was a mistake. Sonic was a detective, for ancients' sake! And there she was, no evidence whatsoever, making the most outlandish claims. Fat chance of him taking the job now.

Sonic held a finger to his chin. “I believe you.”

She looked over at him. “You do? Why?”

“Well, first off, it wouldn’t be all that surprising, you being head of the council and heiress to the Acorn fortune. I’m sure Ivo’s henchmen are harboring a grudge after what we did to their boss, or maybe it’s a hired goon looking to cause trouble.”

Sally shivered, her fur standing on end. She crossed her arms over the bust of her dress. “Nack,” she whispered. So many bad memories wrapped up in one terrible name.

Sonic paused, putting an end to the cold, hard analysis. Sure, it was his job to detect, but he had enough sense to know when a lady was upset. “Don’t you worry your pretty head about Nack, sweetheart. He’s still cooling his heels in the big house. Saw him just the other day after finishing a case.”

The hedgehog leaned over, his shoulders brushing against her own. His presence did wonders for her disposition, giving her a little peace of mind as he continued. “Then again, maybe it’s because you’re the most level-headed dame I’ve ever worked for, and I’ve seen you in action, Sal. You keep your cool and always have a plan. If some lowlife is tailing you, I say we trust your instincts.”

A rousing tune filled the theater. Soaring high, the heroine in sexy spandex fired her light powers at the villain, sending the horned creature plummeting into a jungle of killer plants. Sally could almost imagine how good it felt. His confidence in her certainly made her spirits fly.

She reached over, touching his sleeve with her opera glove. “Sonic,” she said, suddenly at a loss for words. No matter. He seemed pretty pleased with her touch alone.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked. “Want me to tag along on your next trip to city hall, or should I set up a stake out outside your apartment tonight?”

“Actually,” she said, her hand drifting down to his trousers, “I wouldn’t mind having a little stake out inside my apartment.”

Continue reading on AO3! [Warning: NSFW, Sexual Content and Instances of Stalking]

#sally acorn #fanfic #fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog #archie sonic #sonic satam #ao3 #detective noir #noir #alternate universe #smut #excerpt #romance #princess sally acorn #shadow the hedgehog

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asphyxiateher · 3 years

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Only Monsters Come Out At Night

Chapter 2: Say My Name. A/N: Rough draft I’ll be posting to AO3 later after I go through the edits. Enjoy now, I’ll be polishing it later. I personally would let Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters step on me but that’s just me

Warnings: Character death, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, horror. Elements of non-con.

Time had no meaning for Desdemona anymore as her entire being floated comfortably into a quiet void. She was only accompanied by the sweet sound of silence that filled her ears and that in itself was comforting. She was in such a deep state of sleep that it felt like she would be trapped in the peaceful state of purgatory for eternity, but alas that would no longer be the case. Desdemona thought she was dead; in fact, she wanted nothing more than for that to be the case. Unluckily for her, she was about to wake to unfortunate events that would lead her to believe she was trapped in Hell. At first, she sees nothing in her field of vision but then she hears the shrill sound of familiar laughter that sends a shiver down her spine. The black abyss she grew accustomed to deteriorated all around her, a blinding flash of white light surrounds her for the briefest of moments before Desdemona’s eyes finally opened to reveal the disturbing scene before her. “Mother, my pet is finally awake! Oh, I was growing ever so impatient, my darling little one. I was so desperate to peer into those gorgeous eyes of yours again, I was tempted to pluck them out of your skull as you slept.” A voice whispered dangerously into her ears behind her, wet lips gently wrapping around her right ear before it was released with a pop. “Cassandra, you foul thing, learn your place! How many times do I have to say that it was I who found our prize? Do not touch what does NOT belong to you!” Screeched the woman with the green pendant as she materialized by her side in an instant. It didn’t take long for the fact to register that this was the first time that Desdemona could finally get a better look at the women who attacked the group in the village. Now that their hoods were down, she could better identify them by not only their hair color but by the manner of which they spoke and the pendants they wore. The way they continued to fight over her made her stomach turn as she struggled to comprehend why they wanted her alive and what they were going to do with her.

Another black mass of insects appeared and disintegrated into nothing just as quickly as the third woman decided to chime in, her yellow pendant gleaming brightly against the dimly lit room. Her dirtied, dark brown hair tickled Desdemona’s face as she leaned dangerously over her, the smirk on her face growing wider when Desdemona’s breath grew heavy again. She raised her hand and playfully walked two fingers up Desdemona’s arm and over her collarbone before she roughly grasped her prey’s chin and forced her to look directly into her eyes. “Hello, pretty little plaything, you’ll find that my sisters lack manners when they’re lusting over irresistible blood. You should feel honored you made quite the impression as you did. The others you brought with you are undeserving of your company and you’ll find that they deserve punishment simply by existing. Mother will see to that soon enough.” The brunette told her quietly as she straightened back up.

‘Wait, what did she mean by punishing the others for simply existing? Where were Desmond and Veronica?’ Desdemona worriedly thought to herself. The younger Hawthorne sibling attempted to move but she didn’t realize her wrists were restrained by old fashioned shackles until it was too late. She suddenly felt herself being lifted to her feet by the two crazed sisters standing on either side of her. Each woman occasionally nuzzled into her neck and sniffed at her, nipping at her and licking exposed skin whenever the impulse struck.

Desdemona glanced around her environment and realized that they must be inside the castle if the polished flooring, centuries old artwork and beautiful grand staircase were of any indication. Where else would they be after getting lost out on the trail?

The frightened young woman made the mistake of looking over to her left and found that the red-haired woman known as Daniela was staring at her with a glazed look in her eyes. The sight of her lips parting and blowing her a small kiss made Desdemona’s heart nearly jump out of her throat. She couldn’t avert her gaze out of fear and Daniela took that as an invitation to flirt the only way she knew how. She brought two fingers to her face, spaced them out to a “V” shape and made an obscene gesture with her unusually long tongue, moaning loudly when Desdemona blushed and looked away. “Don’t be shy, my love. Once we take care of Mother’s unwanted pests, we can finally be alone together and I’ll taste you once and for all. You’ll find that I do want to eat you but only in the best way possible. You wouldn’t deny me the pleasure, would you?” Daniela growls out, her eyes fluttering shut as the sound of Desdemona’s blood rushing through her veins and her rapidly beating heart thudding against her chest awakened a whole new need in Daniela. Desdemona wanted to cry out but refrained from doing so when she realized somebody else was coming.

Heels could be heard clicking from afar, a door slamming open and voices shouting in protest behind what seemed to be an impossibly tall, statuesque women. Desdemona’s jaw dropped for two reasons: The woman who entered the room dramatically exuded such class and confidence that it didn’t look awkward in the manner in which she had to bend so far low to pass through the doorway. When she uncurled herself from the uncomfortable position, her golden eyes met gray uncertain ones and they immediately pierced through Desdemona’s soul. The woman brought out a whole new level of terror within her. The second reason Desdemona’s mouth remained agape was due to the fact that the mysterious woman dragged along the wounded bodies of both Desmond and Veronica.

‘They’re still alive!’ Desdemona thought, hope rising in her chest the moment she saw both her best friend and twin reacting to her presence. “Des, you’re okay! Christ, the way these fucking things were talking about you, I thought the worst happened.” Desmond called out to her, desperation in his voice as he attempted to crawl his way towards his sister. Veronica tried to break free from the intimidating woman’s grasp but the woman merely raised a perfectly manicured brow in response and tugged on the chains wrapped around both Desmond and Veronica. They had collars clasped tightly around their necks and they choked as a result of the chains being pulled back.

When Veronica glanced back at Desdemona, the furious expression on her face softened when she noticed the bedraggled state her friend was in. Desmond noticed it too and it only served to fuel his anger. “What the fuck did they do to you? I’ll kill them, I’ll slit their fucking throats and make them pay if they so much as tried to ra-,” Veronica began but was immediately cut off with a harsh slap to the face. “Goddamn, bitch!” “Silence, vermin! Speak when you’re spoken to or you’ll learn your place soon enough should you continue to use foul language in my house. Now, pray tell my daughters, what is it that has you all so eager about entertaining this particular foreigner?” The elegant woman asks as she gives Desdemona a once over. The manner in how she reacts to inhaling Desdemona’s scent alarms the younger Hawthorne sibling. She decides to inspect her more closel with flared nostrils and enlarged pupils. She seemed…pleased, for whatever reason. ‘Do they plan on sacrificing you to appease whatever wicked deity they believe in?’ Desdemona nervously asked herself.

One of the daughters, the one known as Bela and the one with the red pendant, spoke first. “We were out on the hunt in the village when I suddenly picked up on her delicious scent, mother. She’s a carrier of our favorite blood type. We haven’t had anyone like her in so long, we were hoping we could make a feast of her with your permission.”

Desdemona tensed up at the suggestion and vigorously shook her head. “M-may I ask what w-we did to offend you and your daughters? I apologize for any wrongdoing, ma’am but we’re just Americans on vacation and we ran out of gas on the way to Bran! We weren’t expecting to get lost but please let us go, we didn’t come out here to hurt anyone!” She pleaded with tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes flicking from Daniela to Cassandra and finally, the incredibly powerful woman standing before.

“Des, don’t go begging them. They’re not going to listen to reason, believe me; we tried!” Desmond warned.

The quiet dark-haired woman, Cassandra, sneered at Desdemona’s twin and slashed at his face with her sickle in hand. Desmond cries out and attempts to cover his face with his cuffed hands only to have them ripped away. She kicks his chest and flattens him on the ground. Cassandra smiles wickedly as she brings her heel to the open cut and presses hard against his face for a moment, stomping on him a few times for good measure. Both Veronica and Desdemona scream, begging the sadistic sister to stop tormenting him but their pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Good, girl, Cassandra. The hideous man-thing won’t shut his hole. I’m this close to gutting him on my newly polished floor and letting you girls get your fill for the evening. Ugh!” The woman in charge said before looking over to you once again. “It seems your exotic little treat has good manners considering what she is, however, and wishes to bargain with us. I can be a most gracious host and I’m all ears but I have two conditions if you wish to prolong your life, little one. Allow me to introduce myself first. I am Countess Alcina Dimitrescu and these beautiful girls of mine are my daughters Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela.”

Veronica scoffed and spat at the floor, earning a glare from the titan of a woman who was apparently on the edge of snapping. Desdemona was ready to leave in one piece so of course she stepped in and spoke on behalf of her brother and her furious friend. “P-pleasure to meet you all, I’m Desdemona Hawthorne and that’s my twin brother, Desmond and my childhood friend Veronica. Ma’am, or My Lady, this all has to be a colossal misunderstanding and we are willing to pay any price if you allow us to leave and return home.”

The trembling girl gasped the moment she felt a pair of cold hands wrap themselves around her breasts from behind. Another set of hands reached for her belt buckle and began undoing her jeans rather enthusiastically. The next thing she knew, her v-neck shirt had been torn in half and her pants torn and ripped off her body.

“Desdemona, such a lovely name and what a lovely body. Mother, please let me keep her? I promise I won’t break her.” Daniela whined as she rubbed her hands up and down the length of her victim’s bare torso. It didn’t help the situation at hand when Daniela’s touch left Desdemona arching back into her, which must have sent the wrong signal because the delusional woman squealed with delight.

“If you or Cassandra had it your way, you’d bleed her dry on the first night and waste her blood when I would savor every inch of her until her very last moment!” Bela complained, her fingers inching dreadfully closer to the band of her undergarments.

“Get your filthy fucking hands off my sister, you twisted bitches. Stop fucking touching her! I’ll kill you, I swear it!” Desmond bellowed, managing to pull away from Lady Dimitrescu’s clutches and lunged at the women that were touching his twin inappropriately. He swung his arms at Daniela and used the length of the chain to whip against the side of her body. Daniela, caught off guard by his sudden attack, screeched in surprise and this immediately angered Alcina.

“ENOUGH!” Lady Dimitrescu signaled for her daughters to apprehend Desmond and the girls obliged, their concern for Daniela overwhelming even to them. Bela and Cassandra ambushed him on either side and using their transformative powers, they pulled him away from their youngest sibling and slammed his body against the nearest wall. Cassandra pinned his shackled hands above his head while Bela held onto his thrashing legs tightly.

Veronica was breathing heavily but made no move to run to him, not while Alcina held her leash tightly. Her brows were furrowed, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip as she tried to refrain from saying anything that would cause them to harm Desmond.

Desdemona could only cry out for mercy as it physically pained her to watch her own twin suffer at the hands of these monsters.

Meanwhile, Alcina had been hunched over Daniela and whispered disturbingly soothing things into her daughter’s ears, words expressed by a loving mother to her daughter, and it looked almost normal. When Alcina stepped away from Daniela, she composed herself after displaying what she deemed a moment of vulnerability and shot Desmond a withering glare. “How dare you touch my daughter with your filthy man-hands, you wretched creature. I can see there is no taming a wild animal like you and like all wild animals, they must be put down! I was ready to lay down my conditions if I were to let you leave alive but you really screwed yourself. Desdemona Hawthorne, seeing as you were polite and tried to communicate in a manner I found pleasing, you shall be gifted to my daughters as their personal form of entertainment. You will be their plaything, and your trashy friend, Veronica, who is now under my employ as a house maiden, will be forced to clean you up after every time they choose to play with you. She will be beaten and broken until she learns what it is to be obedient.” Alcina growls out menacingly, enjoying the way Veronica begins to hyperventilate at the terrifying concept of being broken in by someone like Lady Dimitrescu. Alcina drags Veronica across the room as she approaches Desmond and Veronica is now desperately trying to claw her away from the elegant countess. Raising her free hand in the air, sharp elongated claws form almost immediately at the tips of her fingers. It was in this moment that panic begins to set within Desdemona as she realizes what she’s about to do and so she attempts to rush Lady Dimitrescu. Daniela is quick to catch her prey and uses force to subdue Desdemona. She slams her knee against Desdemona’s back and brings her down to her knees, hooking both of her arms from around and underneath the smaller girl and forcefully raises her arms up. “Let this be a hard lesson, my darling. Don’t you ever disrespect my mother in her own home or disobey her when she gives you an order. There are worst things than death, love, and they wander the mansion unsupervised at night.” Daniela whispers into Desdemona’s ears before bringing her attention back to her mother. Heart hammering against her chest, Desdemona’s blood runs cold when she sees Desmond shed a tear at the realization that he was going to pay the ultimate price. In a quivering voice, Desmond beckons his sister to look at him one final time.

‘Oh no, no no no. They can’t do this, they won’t do this! I have to help him. I’m not sure I can live without my other half, it would be too cruel for me to go on without him!’ Desdemona thinks, weeping at the sight of her twin brother sacrificing his own life for hers. “P-please, my l-lady, let him go I beg you! Don’t hurt him please, I’ll do anything if you let him go. Don’t take him away from me, please.” Desdemona begs. Steely gray eyes meet hers and she recognizes that he is resigned to his fate. She sucks in a deep breath, unwilling to break eye contact as he says his final goodbye. “See you on the other side, Dezzy. Promise me you’ll make it out of here. Mom deserves to know. I love you and V…so very much.” He tells her with a wavering voice. In the background, Veronica is verbalizing her objections and pleads for Desmond’s freedom but in the end, it was all for naught.

With an evil smirk and a deep chuckle, Alcina brings down her claw at Desmond’s abdomen, slashing him so deeply that his innards begin to seep out of him.

Desdemona feels like she’s suffocating, her lungs unable to function as she struggles to make a sound no matter how much she wants to cry out her brother’s name one more time. She throws her head back and opens her mouth to wail but nothing comes out but a few choked coughs. The surviving twin couldn’t explain it but it felt like Alcina personally reached into her chest and destroyed the most important part of her being. Desmond was her other half and upon death, a most profound connection between siblings is severed and there lies nothing left but an echo of what was once there. Desdemona felt…empty, as if she would never be whole again now that her brother was gone.

She shuts her eyes and the horrifying image of Desmond’s intestines piling up on the floor and blood sloshing everywhere replays again in her mind. The hurt is renewed and this time, she summons every ounce of emotion she could as she screams out his name, Veronica’s loud, panicked screaming fueling her grief.

“DESMOND!”

She screams it over and over again until her body slumps in Daniela’s arms. She’s too weak to do anything else. She can hear voices and the sound of heels clicking but she can’t hear what is being said. Desdemona tries her very best to drown out the background noise as her sorrow was too great but Cassandra’s voice breaks her out of her reverie and it is what she murmurs in Desdemona’s ears as she passes by that makes her whimper for an entirely different reason.

“Just you wait until I make you say my name like a prayer, love. This is only the beginning.”

#horror story #resident evil village #re8 #RE8 Village #lady dimitrescu daughters x ofc #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #dimitrescu daughters #bruh i swear this is going in a romantic direction but holy shit this got dark fast #original female character will go to great lengths to survive but she ends up falling for all three of them #she's gonna lose her mind eventually #only monsters come out at night #mine #bela dimitrescu x ofc #cassandra dimitrescu x ofc #daniela x ofc

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

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The Miys, Ch. 140

And here we have the last chapter of the Food Festival! This is one part I was pretty excited to write - The Closing Costume Party. I wouldn’t have been able to get this one squared away without @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog... Both of you caught a few things I didn’t that kept it from making sense from a reader perspective. So thank you both, very much.

I growled softly to myself as I twisted my arms behind my back to pull on my costume. Normally, I was more than flexible enough, but the amount of leverage I needed right now just wasn’t happening unless I was willing to seriously dislocate something. Dropping my hands, I frowned as I jiggled my arms a little to work feeling back into my elbows.

“You really should have fitted this sooner than now,” Conor laughed against the back of my head as he pulled the laces tight on the blood-red corset. Getting one made while laying low and avoiding Hannah had been a nightmare, but it was going to be worth it. I just knew it.

“You just wanted to see me try this entire costume on sooner,” I joked as I felt everything fit snugly - but not too tightly - into place.

Maverick flicked a lock of my hair over my shoulder and positioned it just-so. “It’s not his fault that you couldn’t fit this over your scrubs and have it work for tonight.”

“Who wants to see a corset over scrubs?” I scrunched my nose at the thought while smoothing my sleeves and adjusting my collar. “So far so good?” I asked, slightly louder.

As a credit to their maturity regarding the matter, both men looked me over earnestly before glancing at each other. Conor finally broke the silence. “Aren’t the slits in the skirt a bit… high?” Maverick whispered in his ear, and an expression of utter comprehension glowed on his face. “Oh! That’s… Love, that’s clever.”

I grinned hard enough to cramp my jaw. “Thank you.” Despite how daring the outfit looked, there was exactly zero chance of any wardrobe malfunctions more serious than a hole in my stockings - a near-indestructible nude bodysuit under everything made sure of that.

“Your turn, now,” Maverick insisted, eliciting a groan from Conor, who he had turned toward while brandishing eyeliner.

“Isn’t it bad enough I let the two of you do this?” He gestured at his hair, which was styled within an inch of his life and would sustain an EF4 tornado with minimal loss of glitter.

“Nope,” I popped, still smiling as I sat down to put on my boots. Parvati and Hannah had envisioned tonight to be a sort of return-to-our-roots in a very feral, primitive way, complete with costumes. “We’ve been imagining since before we could cook,” Hannah had pointed out. Between that and the multiple hints that I wasn’t capable of costuming myself, I had gone a bit more over the top than I had originally planned. Hence the corset, the boots, Conor’s hair… although the leather pants the guys were wearing had been decidedly Maverick’s idea and I resisted the need to fall at his feet in gratitude.

Once we were finally costumed, we managed to arrive just-fashionably late to the last hurrah of the Festival. I don’t know who gaped harder - us at the party, or the people who managed to recognize me when they saw me leading the men in. Parvati’s incredible, winding mural was noticeably weathered and patchy, giving the overall atmosphere a post-apocalyptic feel. The only noticeable lighting came from the braziers, and deep, almost subsonic music thumped in my chest, driving my adrenaline just high enough to overwhelm my anxiety.

My nose led us over to the first stall of the night, the smell of charring meat fitting the tone. Per a previous discussion around our costumes, I did not reach for anything but instead Conor took my portion and fed it to me - his idea, this time, though Maverick had readily agreed. It was just enough to set off a few murmurs before I heard a familiar laugh cut through the air.

“Councillor Reid!” Jokul’s voice crowed, turning our heads his direction. Warmly, he clasped my hands when offered, trembling with the laughter he was trying to suppress. “This is an unexpected but pleasant surprise.”

I took a moment to take in his fur trousers and tunic, with rough metal covering vital areas. “The dirt is a nice touch,” I offered, squeezing his hands in greeting. “And Ivan! Well done, sir!”

Ivan rubbed the freshly-buzzed back of his head and grinned. “He actually already had the furs, I just made the armored parts.”

“I meant all of it,” I admonished softly, waving at his work throughout the event.

“Antique, yeah?” Conor asked, gesturing to the furs both of them were wearing.

To his credit, Jokul scoffed. “Absolutely not. Quality synthetic.”

“Don’t let Hannah find out.”

A silver brow arched high enough to impress even Tyche. “Who do you think I commissioned?”

“Clever boy.” I winked at Ivan, eliciting a grin.

In response, Ivan did a runway-twirl, his fur kilt flaring just slightly. “What do you think, Councillor? Can I pull it off?”

With the cheekiest grin my soul could ever manifest, I stared him down. “I think I am the wrong person to ask that.” Even in the dim light, I could see Jokul’s face turn bright red.

“I smell goat,” Maverick interrupted, entirely off topic and completely unabashed.

Ivan’s nose twitched. “Oh, you’re right!” Sniff, sniff. “And it’s on a spit! Let’s find it before it’s gone!”

With that, he snagged Jokul’s wrist and dragged him less like he was an easily two-hundred pound man and more like he was a kite. When I snickered, my former enemy leaned over and murmured “I like the chains, very nice touch.”

I shook the wrist that connected to Conor’s belt and whispered conspiratorially. “Your idea, really. You were so convinced I was leading the entire Ark like this…”

He had the decency to snort. “Seeing it in reality, I was a complete idiot. But it’s quite poetic, and I like it.”

“Poetic?” I asked as I tried to keep pace in the six-inch heels I had elected to wear.

“Are they chaining you down, or are you leading them by their gonads? Or, perhaps, are they saving you from yourself?” He gave a very pointed look at the delicate chains going from the shackles on my wrists to the links attached just above Maverick’s and Conor’s hips.

“Saving me, definitely.” My confession was unashamed and completely sober, the result of the primal music and smells surrounding me.

“Gods agree, someone needs to.”

I didn’t have time to argue before we arrived at the source of the enticing smell - a Jamaican barbecue vendor, who had oxtails, saltfish, and…

“Grilled goat!” Ivan crowed triumphantly. As he started handing out portions from the dancing, grinning vendor, he raised an eyebrow when he noticed that the portion he tried to hand to me was intercepted by Maverick first, and then fed to me rather than feeding myself.

“Not my idea,” I managed around an insanely delicious bite. “Swear.”

“Kink tomato,” he insisted, holding up his hands.

Conor almost choked laughing. “Not our kink either, mate. Just set dressing for the Queen over here.” Taking another bite, he winked at me.

“Ah, Conor’s idea then,” Jokul nodded sagely before erupting in the closest thing to a girlish squeal I could imagine coming from him. “Miss Harper, we’ve been looking for you!”

Shit, I thought to myself. I hadn’t thought of what Charly would say when I discussed this idea with Conor and Maverick, and I was just realizing it was a monumental oversight. Plastering a smile on my face, I turned in the direction Jokul had shouted -

Only to be confronted with what looked like a fox with antlers, a rakish Anansi, the Queen of the Dead, a blind healer, and… a walking shrine? I wasn’t sure what exactly Arthur was dressed as, but I could clearly identify a shabby tweed suit, his sword, a tome that I hoped was faux-moldy, breastplate, shin guards, along with various tchotchkes that looked like they came from high-schoolers and were a bit too beat up to be faked.

“Arthur, what are you?” I asked. Where anyone else would find it rude, I knew my bluntness would be either appreciated or ignored entirely.

“The Ghost of Classes Past.” He swept into a near-Shakespearen bow, gesturing at the bits and bobs that adorned him. “Humans protect, and we mourn those we could not to ensure they live on in memory.” The thump of the music did not change, but his costume gave it a sepulchral tone, like a dying heartbeat.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, the antlered fox bounced familiarly before looking at the Queen of the Dead. “You did a fantastic job on their costumes! They look amazing!” Her antlers were, of course, somehow illuminated from below, but damn me if I could figure out how.

Despite the fact that I knew damned well that Tyche wanted to erupt into laughter at the suggestion, she managed to, quite impressively, tamp it down to a savage smile of silver fangs and blood-red lips. Flapping a hand at myself, Conor, and Maverick, she gave her bell-like fake-laugh, fully in character. “Oh, I had nothing to do with this. Darling Sophia and her merry toys conceived it all on their own. This is the first time I’ve even seen it, darling.” She turned to me, tipping her chin down in respect. “Well done, dearest sister.” Tyche was on peak display, with kohl lining her glowing grey eyes, a black bodysuit covering her from collar to feet, fitted vest and cardigan vest, all partnered with a skirt that could be ten inches thick or ten miles of ribbon - who knew with all the darting and layers? Not me, but I was surely impressed with what looked like ten miles of black feathers flowing from her waist to her hips.

“Why, thank you, Your Majesty.” I swept my leg back in a daring curtsy, forcing Conor and Maverick to smother their laughter at Jokul and Ivan’s faces.

“Ma’am! Ma’am ma’am ma’am!” Charly demanded as she pulled me upright. “You blushed at the concept of kink night, and here I find you leading your men around by their hips!”

I tossed my hair and winked at Jokul. “They aren’t being led, they are saving me from myself.” To Charly’s credit, I did look one deep breath from embarrassment - a black dress with red trim, sliced from floor to ribs and collar to navel, over what appeared to be just fishnet stockings and cavalier boots. The only thing, visibly, retaining any sort of deceny was the corset sealing me in the dress. To go with it, I sported chunky, silver cuffs chained to both Maverick and Conor. Ducking in, I whispered, “I probably will have to be cut out of this bodysuit, no worries on me flashing anyone.”

“Ooooo… well played, madam, well played,” she cheered, twirling me around, forcing both men to pivot with me, laughing, before giving me a very concerned look. “How fucking tall are those?” This was clearly directed at my heels, which she was staring at like a shark presented with a steak.

“Six,” I admitted. “But I did pointe ballet for a little while, so… This isn’t that bad.”

Maverick ducked into the center of the circle we formed. “They’re a full size too big to allow for swelling and she has the toe boxes lined with impact foam.”

“How the hell else am I supposed to wear these things?” I asked with a glare that had him standing ramrod straight and barely restraining a laugh.

Tyche, to her credit, patted my shoulder. “While sitting. Or, if you have to stand, with a platform in the toe.”

“No shit,” I hissed, setting the mummified healer doubling over in laughter. “But I’ve done enough damage to my feet, thank you, so… there may be foot braces involved.” One of which was currently digging in just in front of my heel, which I made a mental note to pass on to the development team.

A thick, French accent set me shaking my head when it came from the very-not-French looking mummy. “Well played, Sophia. The sling and calf brace design I saw recently get approved by medical?”

I groaned as I realized that of course this was Antoine. Life and Death, forever partnered. “Yesssss,” I hissed. “Grey created the design.” I unzipped one boot down far enough to roll it below my knee, exposing braces above and below the kneecap before running further down. “The weight is distributed throughout the leg, before terminating across the front and back of the arch of the foot, to even out the pressure.”

I could almost see numbers whirling beneath the six-foot-plus candy-pink bowler hat. “That… sounds like it might actually be comfortable,” Coffey intoned. I couldn’t help but grin at the tilt of his hat and the feather arching behind him.

“More comfy than actual heels, yes,” I admitted before deflecting attention as far from me as possible. Which, considering how much weight was normally put on the ball of the foot in heels like this, wasn’t a lie…. “But we aren’t here for this! We’re here for food!”

Cheers erupted, and we set off dragging each other to what bits we had discovered. The theme of the night was firmly set around protein, grilled if possible, with wicks of smoke dancing through the flickering light along with the thump of the music. Some were spicy, others unexpectedly sweet. As I laughed, and ate, and sweated, and danced, I could freely admit that there was exactly zero percent chance that I would have imagined this in my wildest dreams. And even better? I could enjoy every second, every smell, every beat of the music. I made a point to wink at each camera I could spot, to the point that, first Tyche, and then everyone else felt the need to comically push down my thumbs-up and cover my face.

Clearly, Parvati and Hannah, who I hadn’t seen all night, were monitoring what they would later discover to be a flying pass on their final exam.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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lailannajacobs · 4 years

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If You’d Ever Had A Real Boyfriend, Maybe You’d Know What To Do With A Fake One | GIBP IV

Pairing: Fey!Loki x fem!reader

Chapter Summary: You experience your first council event and get to know Loki a little bit better.

Warnings: pure fluff

Word Count: 12.5k

A/N: I know this took quite a while to come out, but I ended up writing far more than I’d intended and I spent a lot of time editing to try and get the fake dating as perfect as I possibly could. I hope you don’t mind the length so much and I’d love to know what you think of the chapter!! <3

You had wanted to spend the whole hour in the bath, scrubbing the stupid Junabee from your hair, but Loki had given you an hour alone and you weren’t about to waste it soaking in a tub; no matter how luxurious or tempting it was. You’d chosen a dark silky blouse and fancy but comfortable pants, quickly noticing that Valkyrie had made a slitted compartment in the leg for your dagger. You hadn’t spoken about it with her and you didn’t know if that was her way of ominously warning you to stay safe or simply that she’d gotten a better read on you during your afternoon than you’d thought. Either way, you were glad to have it there.

Even though they clashed with the outfit, you’d kept your boots on underneath, refusing to part with them. You weren’t in the mood to get blisters from shoes you’d never worn before and needed to to know you could run and move if need be. Your steps were silent on the floor — another reason you’d kept on the boots — hopefully imperceptible even to Fey hearing. Leaning your ear against the door, you waited, listening for movement in the hallway. Nothing. Your hand was tentative on the handle. You gently pulled open the door and stepped out, eyes scanning the hallway. You bit back a groan.

Loki was leaning against the opposite wall, freshly changed into a dark suit, the cut and style similar to the likes of human fashion and his dark hair combed back. You were momentarily surprised he owned something like that, but with the mountain of clothing you received from Valkerie only hours after meeting her, you should have guessed she would have made something for him as well. It was a clever move on his part, and you wondered if it was him or his seamstress who had decided on the suit. Regardless of who’s idea it was, the clothes fit him so perfectly, even you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly handsome. The thought made you scowl. He raised a brow.

“I thought you were going to be back in an hour,” you blurted then quickly realized how suspicious you sounded.

He shrugged, “I lied.”

The silence stretched on after his words and you turned them over in your mind. He knew you would try and leave. It was the only reason he would have lied about something so unimportant. And you stupidly believed him. You ran your tongue over your teeth, trying to hide your frustration — at him, yes, but also at yourself. You should have known that after sneaking off this morning he’d be watching you even more closely. If you’d have stayed put, maybe you could have gained his trust enough to search the palace on your own. Now, you’d only made everything harder for yourself. There was no way he trusted you before, but he sure in the Seven Hells didn’t trust you now. You should have known better than this. You had to be better than this. You felt tears burn behind your eyes and you struggled to keep ahold of yourself.

He cocked his head, looking at you more closely now, as if he could see beneath your skin if he tried hard enough. You avoided his gaze, watching the trees swaying outside through a nearby window until you were sure your voice wouldn’t crack when you spoke.

You tried to turn the tables on him Instead of trying to defend your own actions, and muttered, “that wasn’t very nice of you.”

He seemed to find that funny, his intense stare breaking as he pushed off the wall and approached with slow, lazy steps, “and what were you about to do, sweetheart?”

You took in a deep breath; pasted on a coy smile. You had to calm down and get your act together if you wanted to get through this. And you were going to get through this. For yourself. For Nat. You had no other choice.

You closed the door behind you.

“Find you, of course,” you replied sweetly.

His head dipped in a slow nod, lips pursed as if he was trying to fight a smile. You didn’t for a second think that he believed me.

“Well, sweetheart, you found me,” he crooned.

You couldn’t fake any kind of enthusiasm, the words dry when you said, “lucky me.”

“Lucky me,” he countered, lips curling into a wicked grin. His eyes were bright and taunting as if he was winning a game you weren’t aware you were playing, “and now that you’ve found me, what are you going to do about it?”

His voice had dropped so that his question sounded like a dare, words laced with danger and promises of something more. Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten now that he was leaning against your doorframe. You looked up haughtily, holding his gaze as you searched for something to say in return, but you had nothing. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and raised a brow, that insufferable smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Annoyed and all too aware of how close he was standing, you snorted and pushed past him. It wasn’t the most elegant or articulate, but it was the best you could come up with.

“Anything I should know about this party thingy?” you asked, hoping you could get back onto solid footing with some distance and a neutral question.

He was silent as he strolled beside you and you had to look up at him to make sure he’d heard. The only reason you didn’t repeat the question was the pinched look on his face and the way he began by saying, “I won’t lie to you,”

You stopped short, your hands on your hips. He paused and turned. When you didn’t back down, he nodded as if he’d just remembered lying to you less than an hour ago.

“Not about this,” he explained, though you weren’t comforted in the slightest by his answer. He was obviously comfortable lying to you and seemed to have it in mind that he would need to. Obviously, as king, he wasn’t going to tell you most things, but you wondered what that meant for your fate and Nat’s.

You kept walking, not wanting to get distracted and make a big deal about something you couldn’t change. For now. You motioned for him to go on.

“The council isn’t going to like you,” he replied bluntly, “they’re all part of the generation that burned down the temples of the old gods and almost half supported the discoveries that led to the war on purity.”

You closed your eyes for a few steps and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest. Several decades before Hayle inherited the throne, Dark Elf scholars from Alfhiem discovered that magic flowed through the Nine Realms like currents in a massive loop of energy. They had found that the each specific mutation that differentiated the races attracted certain currents of energy and allowed those mutation to interact with and manipulate the magic of the currents. Humans couldn’t interact with any.

Then, when Odin later took the throne, a human scholar named Brock Rumlow was found guilty of capturing and testing on as many of the other races as he could get his hands on to try and imitate the mutations to give himself more power. Odin had taken the opportunity to turn as many of the other realms as he could against humans, burning the temples the humans had built when they had believed the magic had come from the gods. They had set out to eradicate the ‘lesser race’ — humans who had no power and would inevitably try to steal everyone else’s. Anyone who had sided with Odin despised humans and were a threat to them, even hundreds of years after they had lost the war on purity.

You were in more danger here than you’d realized.

“Great,” you muttered. Then a terrifying thought occurred to you that he might actually agree with them, “if they’re part of your council, why haven’t you gotten rid of them?”

He looked down at me in surprise, “kill them?”

“Kick them off the council,” you snapped, “you were king for at least a little while. You could have changed that.”

You stopped yourself from saying that he should have changed it. The actions of one human should not have been enough to condemn the entire race for future generations and every other race that had sided with them. But you should have known when Asgard had abandoned everyone good in the war that they didn’t care for anyone other than themselves.

Loki remained silent as a beautiful Fey woman crossed you in the hallway and nodded politely as she walked past. Her eyes lingered on you and the space between you and Loki so you stepped a little closer to him as you walked, your shoulders practically touching. When you were certain she couldn’t see you anymore, you stepped away from him, afraid he could feel your anger radiating off you in waves.

“Their positions are for life,” he said with a shrug, “and unfortunately, that’s a long time.”

“Unfortunate,” you scoffed, then muttered, “maybe you should have considered the first option gave you.”

His steps faltered slightly, “I beg your pardon?”

You knew he’d heard with his Fey hearing.

“Nothing,” you chirped.

He looked at you warily before continuing, scanning your body from head to toe as if he was looking for the dagger you’d pulled on him the day before.

“Thankfully, the head of the court is impartial,” he finally said when he seemed satisfied you weren’t going to try anything, “and the ultimate decision is his. My advice to you is to ignore the rest of them and focus on making this convincing.”

You nodded. His plan made sense, but there was so much that wasn’t on your side simply because you were human. If this was a fight, you were starting it blindfolded and with a hand tied behind your back. You clenched your teeth, frustrated. He’d conveniently forgotten to mention how desolate our situation was before you’d agreed to it. Though you hadn’t really agreed to it. It would be a long time before you forgot the way he’d casually threatened your life and the pain he’d caused last night.

“If you knew all this, then why in the Seven Hells did you drag me into this?” you snarled, unable to keep the emotion from your voice, “wouldn’t it have been easier to use someone who was Fey? I’m sure Valkyrie would have been available.”

You weren’t sure why you’d called out the seamstress, but now that you had, you wouldn’t mind him explaining some of the million secrets you knew they were both keeping from you.

He didn’t seemed fazed by your outburst, his face almost more impassive than it was before, “easier maybe, but it would have been too obvious. The fact that you’re so unexpected makes it the most believable.”

Your anger was dropped to a simmer for a moment when you wondered what he meant by ‘too obvious’. What kind of past was between them? Maybe something was still there and this whole situation was coming between them. Maybe your deal was ruining a perfectly decent relationship. You decided you didn’t care. You weren’t here to become invested in their lives. You had other — more important — things to worry about.

“This hallway leads to the council’s banquet hall,” he continued once he realized that you weren’t going to say anything else on the subject, “if ever I’m not here to escort you, this is the easiest way to get from our rooms to the hall.”

“There are other ways?” you asked, thinking that the better you knew the layout of the palace, the better your chances were of finding the Hand.

He glanced at you side-long, wary of your question. With reason, but you weren’t about to confirm that.

“I mean, what if I’m not coming from my room,” you supplied, hurrying along.

“You can always ask for help,” he said. His face took on a serious quality that you hadn’t seen on him before, “the walls have ears here. Unless you’re in your room, know that I’ll be able to hear you if you’d like help.”

You didn’t know what to think about that. You’d been talking pretty freely about your deal, even though it had been in hushed tones most of the time. But that meant that whatever you said could be overheard by anyone. You were going to have to be even more careful than you’d first thought.

He nodded as if he could read your mind and honestly, with the minute demonstrations of magic you’d seen so far, you weren’t sure he couldn’t. You didn’t know anything about Fey magic and because of it, you were even more at a disadvantage. If you were going to have to spend a few moons here then you were going to have to learn more about it. Maybe even put your pride aside and ask him about it.

“Do you think you can make it convincing in there, sweetheart?” he asked, pausing a few steps away from a set of double doors. You’d been so lost in thought that you hadn’t realized you were already at the banquet hall.

“YN,” you grumbled, “and I think I can manage.”

“Good. Then I think we should hold hands,” he said.

You rolled your eyes, though you were glad he’d had the decency to accept your terms and ask you first.

“How romantic. And original,” you laughed, though there was no humour in the sound, “did you come up with that all on your own, prince?”

“You did want a heads up,” he ran a hand through his hair, “and funny thing is sweetheart, love isn’t original. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Never been in love?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“No,” he kept his eyes on the door ahead, not giving anything away, his voice steady when he asked, “have you?”

A crazy kind of laughter bubbled in your chest at the irony and impossibility of your situation. Afraid it would turn into full blown panic, you managed to push it far enough down to say, “no. Looks like we’re perfect for this.”

He rocked back on his heels, the corner of his mouth barely twitching upward, “I knew there was a reason I chose you.”

“I broke into your palace, I don’t think that counts,” you scoffed.

He offered his hand, “I let you.”

“Keep telling yourself that, prince,” you said, your frustration back as if it had never left. You tried to ignore that familiar itch blooming at your tailbone, “you people are so overconfident and arrogant that anyone with half a brain could break into this place.”

“And yet, here you are,” he pointed out, that infuriating smirk growing.

You crossed your arms, tucking your hands tightly against your body to hide your growing temper, “not because of your charm.”

He leaned in close, lips almost touching your ear when he whispered, “you’re no peach either, my queen.”

“At least I’m not a spoiled brat who coerces helpless humans into miserable bargains,” you whispered back, head snapping to face him and your composure slipping away faster than usual. We were so close now your noses were practically touching and you made sure to take a step away from him.

He shook his head and you felt a shimmer of magic surround you like a bubble. You looked around as if you could physically see it, but obviously nothing was there. When you looked back at him, Loki’s eyes were ablaze.

“Like you’re helpless, YN. You obviously don’t like me and that’s fine, but don’t think for a second that I’m clueless. You can fool them, sweetheart, but not me.”

You let out another humourless laugh, easing the pressure in your chest slightly, “and there’s that overconfidence and arrogance I was just talking about.”

“Are there any other insights about me you would like to share?” he asked, that bored expression quickly replacing any sort of emotion you might have seen on his face.

“Not right now,” you snapped.

He huffed a sigh, “then we should go in.”

You took his hand. It was a rough, warrior’s, easily engulfing yours.

He smirked.

“Shut up,” you growled, tempted to rip your hand away, “this is a necessity.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he pointed out, though there was no doubt in your mind that he knew exactly what he’d done to get under your skin so easily. Just the thought infuriated you more.

“This is never going to work,” you muttered.

He paused, voice taunting when he said, “not with that attitude it won’t.”

It took all of your restraint not to punch him in the arm with your free hand. He was so cavalier about all of this that you had trouble believing he took any of it seriously. How were you supposed to get the book when this was over when his vanity seemed to take precedence over everything else? He raised your hands and placed a slow kiss on yours, his intense gaze never leaving you. You glared at him and could feel his lips twist into a smile on your skin. Before you could snap at him for being an arrogant prick, he pushed open the doors and was on the move again, tugging you along with him. You did your best to keep up with his long strides through the smaller hallway that led to fancy looking doors at the end. You didn’t know if you were late or it if it was you dreading the party, but it felt like he’d picked up the pace.

You kept repeating to yourself that the walls had ears and that you had a job to do. You had Nat’s face etched into your mind — the sheer panic, wide eyes and gaunt face of the day the two of you had gotten captured. You had to get her out. You had to. Which meant that you couldn’t go around hating the man you were supposed to love. At least, not blatantly you couldn’t.

“I couldn’t be happier than to be here with you in this moment, Loki,” you said as you approached the doors that looked even more impressive up close, “there’s no one else I’d ever want at my side.”

He stopped with his hand on the door and looked over at you with a curious, but slightly amused expression on his face. He leaned over so that his shoulder barely brushed up against yours and said, “commendable attempt, sweetheart, but you might want to remind your face of your intentions if you want anyone to believe it.”

Then he pulled you into the room with him before you could say anything else. You did your best to wipe the scowl from your face. It wasn’t easy to do when this was the last place you wanted to be, but every pair of eyes were on you so you had no choice. And there were a lot of them.

The banquet hall was filled with Fey in elegant evening wear, male and female alike, all dissecting you as if you’d intruded on their private event. The room was smaller than you thought it would be, though it still had high arched ceilings, wide stained glass windows and a long table set up in the back with an impressive spread of food. A quick scan of the crowd gave you the impression that there were almost fifty Fey here but not one friendly face among them. Your legs suddenly felt like jelly and you were surprised you were somehow still standing.

Loki looked down at you and raised a brow. It was a silent challenge as if he thought you were intimidated by his court — that you couldn’t keep up. The arrogant look reignited the furry that had been doused by the judging stares and brought you back to your senses fast enough that you didn’t stumble after Loki when he walked you toward the centre of the party. Because of course you were going to the centre of it. Where else would you go?

“Nice to see everyone,” he began, shooting them all courtly smiles, though he lingered slightly longer on the five men who stood a few steps apart from the others. Their tunics looked similar to most of the other men, but you could tell their designs were more carefully tailored for their bodies and the fabrics better suited for the cut of the shirt and pants they wore. These men exuded power and confidence, and you could only assume that they were the council members that you were supposed to impress.

But the council of stuffy old men that you’d been expecting was nowhere to be seen. Only two of them appeared to be over the age of fifty, all the other in their early thirties at most — though you didn’t doubt that most of them were at least a few generations of humans old. All were Fey, and objectively speaking, all of them were quite handsome. Their looks were sharp and angular, traditional of the Fey and alluring in the way that they were surrounded by an air of magic. But the moment you looked into their eyes you knew you didn’t want to be in the room with them any longer than you had to. These men might not have been cruel at the beginning of their lives, but any kindness that might have once lived within them was long gone. And judging by the way their lips puckered in disgust, Loki had undersold their hatred for humans. You didn’t know if Asgard had ever had a human queen before the war, but you’d been warned they weren’t keen on it now. You just hadn’t been ready for them to look at you with more disgust on their faces than most of the people in Odin’s realm did — that was, those who bothered to look at you at all.

“We didn’t realize you were back from your travels, prince Loki,” the Fey man in the middle sneered.

“I arrived yesterday, Tywin” Loki replied curtly, his face impassive as he ignored the jab, “my court was aware.”

You tried not to stare back and forth between the councilmen and Loki. You had assumed that the council and his court were interchangeable, but obviously if they had been, these men would have been aware of his return — his return from where though? And if he had arrived yesterday, then you’d gotten to Asgard not long after he had. Maybe if you’d gotten here sooner you wouldn’t be stuck in this mess…Regardless, you couldn’t help but wonder if your arrivals were a coincidence or if there was something more going on to this whole situation than just a fight for his crown? There had to be a million things he wasn’t telling you, but would any of those things affect your end of the bargain? There were too may questions you didn’t know the answers to and you had to keep your face neutral before your rising worry ruined your scheme and your chances of getting the Hand before it even started.

“And who is this human you’ve brought with you?” Tywin asked, never once giving you any of his attention. He spoke the word as if you were a shameful object Loki had brought with him to use to taunt the council rather than a living, breathing, conscious being.

Loki lolled his head to the side, shooting you a lazy look you took as a signal to answer the Fey’s questions.

You lifted your chin, staring them all down one by one, and spoke slowly, pronouncing each syllable clearly just to make sure they got it, “YN YLN.”

The man’s lip curled, but he didn’t get a chance to speak.

“She will be my queen,” Loki declared.

There was no hesitation or doubt in his voice. It didn’t matter that he needed their approval to take the throne or that they had clearly pointed out that the title no longer belonged to him, he was above these people. They answered to him. Even masked by the bored look on his face, the authority in his voice was so strong, you found yourself believing it. And judging by the frustration on their faces, they did too — even if it was begrudgingly.

“We’ll discuss the technical aspects later,” he decided, his tone suddenly flippant as if he hadn’t just commanded the whole room into silence, “tonight is not meant for business.

He cut through the middle of the crowd and led you to the banquet table at the back of the room, dismissing the rest of the council. The silence lingered and followed you to the table, but slowly, the chatter began again, taking on a life of its own. You let out a since once the music had started again and their gazes were no longer boring into your back. Loki let go of your hand and offered you drink.

You must have looked at the pale red liquid suspiciously because he said, “it’s safe for humans.”

You hated that he seemed to be able to read your expressions so easily.

You grabbed the flute form his hands, the liquid sloshing in the glass before you downed it in a few quick gulps. The taste was sharp and not overly sweet, and went down smoothly. Which meant you had to be careful. You were human. Although your abilities would inherently handle the liquor better than most humans, that was what you were at the moment. Human. One too many drinks and you might do something incredibly stupid.

“Don’t look too pleased to be here,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. You thought it looked like he wanted to tear his hair out, but the look flashed by so quickly you were pretty sure you’d imagined it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. The arrogance on his made you sure that you had.

He handed you another drink, “try not to spill this one.”

“I hate this place,” you whispered.

“Mingle,” he whispered back, “then you can leave.”

You blew him a kiss and stomped off. It was a pitiful attempt at love and you knew it. You needed to do a better job at pretending to be his queen, knowing that if you didn’t, you would never forgive yourself. But of course, the things you knew and the things you did rarely matched up. It was the reason you were a human stuck in this stupid mess in the first place.

Loki stared at you from across the room but didn’t approach. You tried to keep from rubbing your temples. You’d been in Asgard less than a day and you were already exhausted. You chalked it up to stress, not wanting to admit to yourself what the real was and rolled your shoulders back. You smiled at a passing Fey woman. She smiled back. There. That wasn’t so bad. You had a job to do. Loki wanted convincing? You were going to make it so damned convincing he was going to let you spend the whole day sleeping in tomorrow. You tried not to grind your teeth at the thought that you still needed someone to ‘let you’ do whatever you wanted. You down your drink, set it on the table and grabbed two more from a passing waiter. Once you got this done, you wouldn’t need anyone to let you do anything. You were going to be free again. Nat was going to be free. You could this. You spotted Loki across the room and off you went. You could do this.

Only you didn’t get far. A member of the council stopped you with a hand clamped around your arm. You flinched at the vice-grip. If the Fey man noticed your discomfort, it didn’t bother him enough to let go.

“You’re quite pretty for a human,” he leered, drawing you closer.

He was the youngest of the council members by far, looking about Loki’s age. His sand coloured hair was cut short and styled in a way that showcased his pointed ears and accentuated his ocean blue eyes. He was tall and square, holding himself like a warrior. You didn’t doubt he was one. Nothing about him was kind. Everything was rough looking. The humans had a myth that the other races were all carved from stone by the gods and brought to life through their immortal breath, but this Fey looked like they’d forgotten to polish him off, the lines around his eyes harsh and unfeeling.

It took all of your restraint not to shove him off, only the thought of Nat fending off jerks like this in Flaik keeping your anger in check. You were trained for this. That training might have been buried deep beneath hundreds of years of memories but it was there and it was time you dug it back up and used it.

You patted his arm, your cheeks forced into a smile, “interesting that a man such as yourself would say that.”

HIs lip curled in disgust as if he was insulted you hadn’t swooned over his pathetic excuse of an insult, “why’s that?”

“Because I thought the Fey were supposed to have perfect eyesight. Quite pretty doesn’t cut it for your future queen” you ripped your arm out of his grasp and strode off to where you’d last seen Loki, but he wasn’t there.

Great. Of course he’d left you to fend off these vultures yourself. One day you were going to punch him and you weren’t going to be sorry about it.

“Nicely done,” Loki whispered, standing so close you were practically touching.

You almost jumped out of your skin. You had no clue where he’d come from.

“Don’t patronize me,” you snapped, shoving one of the two glasses at him, “I don’t need it.”

He peered down at you, but didn’t try and defend himself, “understandable, but you may want my advice. If you can avoid Helio, do. He might be the youngest on the council but that doesn’t mean he’s any better than the rest of them.”

You snorted, “nice court you’ve got here, prince.”

“It’s a lifetime position, remember?” he said, nodding politely to the guests as you walked along the fringes of the party.

You knew he’d told you that before, but this time you deflated, feeling like you’d agreed to a situation that kept getting far more hopeless that you’d realized. He stopped and gave you a little shrug like he knew exactly how you were feeling. For once, there was nothing condescending in his expression and he genuinely seemed to understand. Maybe he did. He needed this to work too. But then again, maybe he didn’t. He was only loosing a title and not the person he loved most in this world.

He extended his hand. You tried to control the jittery feeling that was spreading through your limbs and through your body, making your breaths more and more shallow. Instead, you tried to focus on the fact that what you were doing wasn’t impossible. Improbable, yes, but not impossible. It would only become impossible if you didn’t take his hand and work with him. You didn’t have to like him. Seven hells, you didn’t even have to trust him. All you had to do was stop letting every little thing discourage you and do this with both feet in. You’d find a way to get the hand. You and Nat had gotten through worse. This time would’t be different. It couldn’t be.

You took his arm instead and stood a little closer for effect. The gesture put a little smile on his face. It was the perfect look to convince the council he was besotted and you knew you should do the same. Remembering the lessons from your childhood, you smoothed out the tension you knew must be on your face and told yourself that you hadn’t messed anything up yet. You were human in a Fey’s realm. It was only natural to be a little tense. You could play the part. You could lie just as well as he could.

“What’s the goal tonight?” you asked, voice low so that you wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention from the fey stealing glances at you.

His face was pleasant when he said, “I just need you to be seen.”

“With you?” you tried to clarify, a little put off by the way his tone didn’t match the look on his face.

“No. Just seen,” he brushed back your hair, leaning in so close that you shivered when his lips brushed against your ear, “I don’t trust any of them,” he whispered, “and neither should you.”

You wanted him to say more, but you understood enough to know that making sure you were seen by all the council was a failsafe to make sure nothing happened to you. If they all knew who you were and what you looked like, none of them could claim ignorance if you were kicked out of the palace — or worse. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat. Yesterday he had made your deal seem like a piece of cake. Now you were sure he’d lied. Only the worry that your life might be on the line kept you from lashing out in anger.

“If I die, you don’t get to be king,” you reminded him through clenched teeth.

Loki backed off slowly, his movements measured and controlled, “if you died, I couldn’t imagine ever being sane enough to properly rule a kingdom.”

His words were a subtle reminder that despite your distance and the noise in the room, everyone here had Fey hearing and could listen in if they really wanted to — and they probably did. You mentally slapped yourself. You were going to have to start thinking before you spoke.

“Your words are too sweet,” you said, shooting him a pointed look, “but you’re far too strong to lose your sanity over a human, especially that our love will live on for far long than I will.”

He seemed to realize his mistake and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You narrowed your eyes at him and he shrugged with a little smirk.

“It is your everlasting love that will make me the best king I could possibly be,” he looked like he was enjoying himself far too much and you waited warily for his next words, “after all, sweetheart, I know you’d scale any building for me.”

You placed your hand on your heart for effect. It was better than punching his arm.

“And yet your love is so irresistible, it’s almost as if I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” you shot back.

He grinned.

“Aren’t you two sweet,” a male voice sneered.

You almost groaned. This had to be another councilman. Loki smirked and mouthed tell it to your face before he turned so that you were facing a man who resembled a boulder both in shape and wit. You were glad it wasn’t Helio again, but this one didn’t seem much better. Still, you managed somewhat a decent smile.

He didn’t wait for either of you to speak before continuing.

“I’d heard a rumour a few moons ago that we were going to have two kings instead of a king and a queen rule Asgard this time. But I don’t know where such a rumour could have come from, especially that you two have known each other for…” he was waiting for an answer, looking between you with a smug grin. You doubted he could have made it more obvious that he was hoping to catch you in a lie because these people didn’t believe you were in love. Whether that was because you were human or because you weren’t the right sex, you were no longer sure. You snuggled even closer to Loki and looked up at him with an expression on your face that you hoped showed nothing other than love.

Loki licked his lips, teeth scraping against his lower lip as he tried to hold back laughter. Your gaze inadvertently dropped to his mouth for too long before you looked back up into his bright eyes. Judging by the strange expression on his face, you weren’t doing a very good job at conveying love, which only made it harder not to scowl.

“Every day I learn something new about her,” Loki crooned, “it feels like we keep meeting over and over…like we just met yesterday.”

There was a victorious little glint in his eyes that you hoped the councilman interpreted as love. All you saw was a challenge to keep up.

You widened your grin, partly afraid it might look a little crazy but going with it anyways, “and yet, at the same time it feels like we’ve known each other for an eternity. I can’t remember what it was like not knowing him.”

You both turned back to face the Fey man and he narrowed his eyes, trying to see beneath the act. You tried to snuggle in a little closer, but with Loki’s hands in his pockets, there wasn’t much more you could do to get closer. He seemed to realize that in the way he stiffened slightly, but neither of you moved, afraid too much fidgeting would make the councilman see something he wouldn’t have otherwise found.

You were afraid the Fey could hear your heart pounding and you waited for him to say something. Finally, it was Loki who spoke instead.

“YN, I would like you to meet councilman Lucius Bonnefort. Lucius, meet your future queen.”

Lucius grit his teeth. He hadn’t been given a command, but the order from his king was clear. He was to treat you with the respect of any other Fey here. Loki raised a brow, waiting. It looked like Lucius might turn his teeth to dust he was gritting them so hard.

“Pleasure,” was all he muttered before sulking off.

You looked up at Loki and found a frigid expression on his face. His council may have been challenging him but at least they still respected him. The harsh lines on Loki’s face didn’t soften. Maybe it wasn’t respect. Maybe it was fear. You’d gotten a glimpse of his power last night that you didn’t want to relive. Maybe they knew better than to cross their king.

You strolled and mingled with some of the other party guests, but none of the other council members came to see you. It was clear they wanted nothing to do with the two of you, and although Lucius seemed to have bought your answer, you weren’t convinced any of them bought your act. It wasn’t like they wanted to, so why would they? The two of you standing close together wasn’t going to change any of that.

You stopped yourself from rubbing your eyes, trying not to let show how discouraged you were becoming. You’d never been in love. You’d never even had a serious relationship or anything that lasted longer than a couple nights. If this was going to work, you had to think. You couldn’t rely on your own experiences to get you through this. You needed something big. Something that would convince them, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were at least a real couple.

You glanced around the room, looking at all the people who refused to make eye contact with you. As much as you hated it, you needed them to look at you. And you needed to make sure that you did something big when they did. An idea began to take shape in your mind. You didn’t like it, but you were pretty sure it would work.

“Mind if I break one of our rules?” you whispered as softly as you could, catching Loki’s attention.

He leaned back, an amused look on his face. The dip of his head was barely visible but enough to give you the go ahead. You took the drink from his hand and grabbed a knife off the table behind him. Loki observed every movement curiously, no longer seeming quite so bored with the event. You gently tapped the knife against the glass, the hollow ringing echoing throughout the room. It wasn’t hard to get everyone’s attention when more than half of them had been stealing glances at you all evening. You placed the knife gently on the table and you free hand fluttered up instinctively to the pendent resting under your shirt. The weight of it was a strangely comforting reminder that what you were about to do was for the right reasons.

“Hello everyone,” you cleared your throat, hating the way your voice trembled, “I know a toast is a bit of a human tradition, but I was hoping, since I intend to be your queen in a few short moons, that I could say hello with a little tradition of my own. I just wanted to say what a pleasure it has been meeting all of you and I hope to get to know you better in the future. I love Loki more than any of you can imagine, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life here!”

The speech was premature and overconfident at best, but it wasn’t only a statement to prove that you be queen, it was also a message to Loki. You might have gotten caught off guard when you’d broken into the palace, but you were going to walk away with the Hand. You could play these games better than anyone here. You had no choice to, and you had the skills to prove it.

The tentative clapping wasn’t even done when you turned around, placed your drink on the table, grabbed Loki by the face and pulled him in for a kiss. He stiffened under your touch, lips frozen in place. You panicked. What did you just do? You were about to pull away and try to come up with a credible excuse for what had just happened when finally, his hands slipped around your waist and he pulled you closer, kissing you back. You melted into his touch. His lips were soft and gentle, and he let you lead the kiss until you pulled away slowly. You stared into his eyes, not quite sure that you’d actually done that. Loki didn’t say anything, his body oddly stiff. You couldn’t read his expression so you stepped back, his hands lingering a little longer before he let go. Unnerved by this strange version of Loki, you bopped him on the nose with the tip of your finger, surprising yourself with the gesture. His eyes narrowed but you only grinned, taking your little victories where you could get them.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening!” you announced, reaching around him for you glass and raising it.

You were met with a few wide eyes and bewildered looks, but thankfully, everyone raised their glasses and took a sip. You nodded and smiled, meeting a few eyes before turning back to face Loki. His courtly smile masked whatever he was feeling, and you had no idea whether he was furious or not. He extended an arm. You took it but you didn’t know what to think.

This time, as you walked through the party, you got a few smiles and a few nice to meet yous. You shot a winning smile to a fey man as you passed. Not sure what to do with it, he immediately looked away, flustered. The reaction eased some of the pressure on your chest, but you knew the party was far from over. And judging by the way Loki was deathly silent, you were also going to have to contend with him later. He pulled you into a dark alcove at the far end of the banquet hall, the sounds of the party falling away. Apparently he thought sooner was better than later.

“So that’s how we’re doing this?” he demanded.

You had to crane your neck to look up at him you were so close, your chests practically touching. His eyes were emeralds on fire, and with the ghost of that fake smile still on his lips, the effect was terrifying. Despite the number of the drinks you’d downed, you were aware enough to be wary of it.

“I warned you first,” you blurted out. Hating how defensive you sounded, you took a deep, steadying breath but the way it closed the distance between you did nothing to calm your nerves. If anything, it was almost as if your magics were creating an electric current between your bodies. You didn’t know if he could feel it so you ignored it, “I made the right call. Look at them.”

He learned over you to see around the corner, looking at the crowd who was still talking about your little toast. He smelled like mint and summer nights and you tried not to breathe in the pleasant scent.

He settled back into the alcove and raised a brow, “all for the greater good, right sweetheart?”

The words were spoken like a threat rather than an observation, dangerous and cunning. You swallowed, wondering what you’d just gotten yourself into. Actually, you knew what you’d gotten yourself into and you were doing a damned good job of it. If he thought he could intimidate you out of doing your job and securing the Hand then he was very well mistaken.

You jut your chin up, your faces inches away now, “exactly. Maybe you should keep up Prince Loki.”

He chuckled, his breath tickling your cheek. You mimicked his arrogant brow lift, waning for an answer. He said nothing, leaning in even closer. Your breath hitched and you wondered if he was going to kiss you just to spite you.

“If you’re going to make this a competition,” he whispered with a wolfish glint in his eyes, “then I’m willing to play, sweetheart.”

He pulled you out of the alcove before you had a chance to reply. You didn’t know if you’d just made things harder for yourself, but you’d definitely made them more interesting. Though you weren’t sure more interesting was what you needed.

The crowd parted for you as Loki cut across the room and you cursed your short legs for having so much trouble keeping up. He led you toward the only Fey here who actually looked like an old man. His sharp cheekbones and tight skin had gone soft and wrinkly, and the long hair cascading down past his shoulders was as white as his long beard, both of which resembled the frozen landscape of Niflheim. The fey looked thoughtfully between the two of you as you came to a stop in front of him, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

“You two are certainly something,” the fey said.

“That’s love,” you gushed, taking the lead on the situation.

Loki placed a quick kiss to your temple before making the introductions. The fey was Eamon Loveless, the head councilman and the one who would have the final say on your relationship. For some reason, probably to get back at you, Loki had brought you to the most important person in the room. You straightened. You could do this.

“Prince Loki,” Eamon was looking at you when he spoke, “I must say, when you told us you’d found your future queen, I hadn’t been expecting Miss YLN. You hadn’t quite painted a clear picture.”

You weren’t sure what Eamon was accusing him of, but Loki didn’t look worried. With his hands still in his pockets as if he couldn’t be bothered to take them out, he gave a little shrug.

“I didn’t want to influence your opinion before meeting her,” Loki explained, “but I imagine you could only have been pleasantly surprised.”

Eamon smiled, “I’m glad you’ve found someone else who makes you happy.”

Loki’s arms tightened at his side, squishing your arm in between his. Any more and it would hurt. You tried not to look up at him in surprise. There had been someone else? Who? When? Immediately, Valkyrie flashed through your mind.

“YN is magnificent,” he grit out, obviously affected by the comment.

Suddenly, the two of you were too stiff. Too awkward. You tried for a fond smile. Eamon’s expression never changed so you weren’t sure if you’d achieved it or not. You felt the panic begin to rise. Where was the Loki who had lied so easily to Valkyrie? Where was the king who’d commanded the room? Where was the prick who’s taunted you seconds ago? The silence was dragging on and you had to fight the urge to fill it with useless babbling. Instead, you lifted Loki’s hand from his pocket and interlaced your hands, giving yourself time to think.

“He’s too kind,” you finally said, addressing Eamon, “it was his kindness that first attracted me to him.”

“And how did you meet?” he asked.

Your heart flipped in your chest. You thought you had come up with something clever to fill the silence but really you’d just dug yourselves into an even deeper hole. You opened your mouth but nothing came out. Snapping it shut, you let out a sharp breath that you hoped he misconstrued for a laugh. If this was a competition, then both of you were failing miserably.

“Why don’t you tell the story?” you asked, looking up at Loki.

He looked down at you, eyes glazed over and you weren’t sure he even saw you. You dug your nails into his hand. Hard. The pain must have snapped him out of whatever thoughts he’d been sucked into because that smug little grin returned. You’d never thought you’d actually be glad to see it.

“It feels like it was yesterday,” his eyes were bright as if he found himself amusing, “I was in Midgard visiting King Earl and she was a maid.”

“So he thought,” you interrupted, doing your best not to glare at him. At least he was out of whatever that was, even if it meant he was back to annoying you, “I was actually a soldier in the king’s guard and I knocked Loki flat on his ass for his mistake.”

The fey’s eyes widened. Loki chuckled. He didn’t seemed bothered by your comment. If anything, it looked more like he was warming up to the idea of your little competition.

“That was only because I was stunned by her incredible beauty,” he explained.

“And my skill apparently.”

You thought he was going to offer another counterpoint, but instead he nodded, “it’s all true. Though I must say, normally we’re more evenly matched.”

Eamon nodded slowly, dark eyes taking in everything, “and what happened next?”

“I asked her to dinner,” Loki answered simply and you thought that was going to be that, but he wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily, “but she said no.”

“No?” Eamon asked, surprised.

By now your little story had gathered a small crowd and everyone was looking at you expectantly. The human who’d turned down the future king of Asgard. You couldn’t glare at Loki, fearing you’d give something away, but you knew he was grinning, watching you squirm. You’d told hm to keep up. You should’ve expected that a king would play to win.

You shrugged, “I didn’t think we’d have anything in common. And I was busy.”

The last comment earned a few chuckled from the crowd and you lifted your free hand, palm up, as if to say what could I do about it.

Loki took over, “the next time I went back to Midgard, she realized that maybe she’d been too hasty to turn me down, and she asked me to dinner instead.”

“When someone looks this good, how are you supposed to say no,” you laughed, lifting onto your toes and kissing him on the cheek, “and he was so eager, it was adorable. He said yes immediately.”

He turned and stared at you as if you were the only person in the room. You were caught off guard by the intensity of it and you couldn’t look away. It was a dangerous game you were playing. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. You smirked.

“Eventually, we did go to dinner and got to know each other better,” he continued, turning to face the ever growing crowd, “turns out we had a lot more in common that she originally thought.”

The crowd laughed at his callback and you almost sighed with relief. The councilmen might not have bought the act yet, but at least the other nobles were beginning to seem convinced.

“It wasn’t love at first sight,” you murmured, knowing you didn’t have to speak loudly for them to hear, “but I think it’s something so much better than that,”

He tilted his head and looked at you with that half smirk and a glint in his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you almost would have thought he was impressed. You grinned, hoping your smug look of victory came across as loving. You were good at this, and most importantly, now he knew it too. Just because he needed a queen, didn’t mean he couldn’t easily replace you if this wasn’t working out. You weren’t going to give him any reason to change his mind.

The councilman’s face was still silent and impassive. All you could hear was the heavy beat of your heart as you waited to see if he’d bought any of it.

A gentle smile softened Eamon’s expression and you almost squeed Loki’s hand with relief.

“You two seem to complement each other quite nicely,” Eamon said, “almost as if you were fated to meet.”

This time your smile was genuine. The orange moon was still far away, but at least you were headed in the right direction to get Nat out of Niflheim. Loki let go of your hand and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you in closer. You tried not to be stiff, but it was hard when you were hyper aware of every place that your bodies connected. You’d never been affectionate, even with Nat, so you found yourself over analyzing your posture, wondering how credible you could really be. Loki on the other hand seemed completely at ease, fingers drawing little circles on your side.

“I’m positive you will like it here in Asgard, Miss YLN. Although I’m sure you must find our realm a little strange,” Eamon continued.

His words let you know you weren’t doing a very good job at masking your discomfort.

“I’m fine as long as Loki is here with me,” you tentatively rested your head on his shoulder. It seemed like the right thing to do.

“YN is fine no matter what,” Loki affirmed, “she’s the strongest person I know, fey and human alike.”

You wanted to scoff at such a lie, but it was cut short when you saw the admiration in everyone’s eyes, even the councilman. For some reason, Loki seemed to be able to sell love far better than you could and you looked up to see just what you were missing. His eyes were wide and filled with puppy-like innocence that didn’t at all suit the fey you’d met and spent time with. The crowd didn’t seem to agree. It was a good reminder of his skills as a liar and how little you could actually trust him.

“I must admit that I was worried when I saw that your future queen was human,” Eamon shot an apologetic smile your way, “but I must say that your confidence has inspired me, Prince Loki. I’m looking forward to seeing how both of you manage with your trials in the future.”

Loki tensed at your side, but you didn’t know why. Eamon’s words were a good thing. He wanted to see how you’d overcome obstacles in the future which meant that he wasn’t ready to kick you out of the palace just yet. That might have only made one council member, but you had to start somewhere.

“And we’ll do it with grace and dignity,” you beamed, your cheeks sore from all the fake smiling.

Eamon nodded and wished you a good rest of evening, and with that, the crowd seemed to disperse as well. You stepped out of Loki’s arms and walked off to the banquet table in search of food and a reason to stand facing the windows, desperate for a break in the whole act.

“I think that went well,” you murmured when you felt Loki walk up beside you.

“Not bad,” he agreed, “you’re almost as good at this as I am, sweetheart.”

You snorted, “better, prince. Better.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” he promised, “get ready. Here’s another councilman. Three down, two to go.”

You sighed and popped a small berry that looked like a grape into your mouth. You rolled back your shoulders.

“Ready.”

You both turned around at the same time, wide smiles on your faces.

“So that’s it then?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe to the banquet hall.

Your legs could barely keep you standing and you could feel the soft pulses of a headache coming on. The party was dwindling, but all of the council members were still mingling with the remaining guests. When you’d asked, Loki had said that he’d wanted to stay until they had all gone. All you wanted to do was eat a real meal and go to bed. If you could, you wanted to try and find the Hand first, but really, there was nothing you wanted more than food and sleep. But none of that mattered. You were stuck here.

“You look tired,” Loki remarked, but when you opened your eyes, he was scanning the crowd thoughtfully.

“Human,” you answered and hoped it was enough of an explanation that he wouldn’t press for the real reason.

“True,” he hummed, “I forget sometimes by the way you stare down the council as if you’re ready to fight them all at once. It’s not wonder none of the other guests were brave enough to approach.”

You were about to retort but realized he had a point. And you were too tired to say anything. You let your head fall back on to the wall and closed your eyes.

“I’ll work on it,” you muttered.

He didn’t say anything. Only when you opened your eyes a few moments later thinking maybe he’d left you standing alone did he say, “why don’t we head out?”

You pushed off the doorway, “yes.”

He chuckled and offered you an arm, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this enthusiastic.”

“Well, you’ve never threatened me with a good time before,” you took his arm, surprised by how familiar the gesture had already become.

“And what do you think I’m offering you now?” he asked.

“A meal and a bed, hopefully.”

He raised a brow.

You smacked his arm, “not yours.”

“So yours then,” he smirked.

You smacked him again or good measure.

“We’re not saying goodbye?” you asked when you noticed you were headed away from the party.

“We can always turn back.”

You pulled him along, “don’t you dare.”

Loki slowed his stride and let YN set the pace. She looked exhausted and he felt bad for not having realized sooner the extent of what he’d asked of her. He should have warned her earlier about the councilmen or at least given her more information about what she was going to expect but he’d been too afraid she’d decide the Hand wasn’t worth it and leave him stranded. And despite all that, she’d done amazing in there. She’d even made a party with the council bearable, which was something he didn’t think he’d ever say. It didn’t matter that she’d made her stance on the whole situation very clear by glaring at him every chance she got, the crowd seemed to love her. Which was far more than he could saw of himself. As soon as Eamon had mentioned Cortese he’d frozen up, lost in memories. The only reason no one had questioned his behaviour was because YN had brought him back fast enough that it wasn’t too suspicious and the fact that he was king. Or used to be. If he didn’t start acting like he was in love, all the power in the world wouldn’t make him king of Asgard again. Hela had made sure of that.

Despite having a million other things to do tonight, he wanted nothing other than an early night and a peaceful sleep. But with Hela whispering in the council’s ear day and night, along with the imminent war Gamora had foreseen, Loki hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in moons.

He looked over at YN who’d been quiet since they’d left the hall. She’d done more than enough tonight. He didn’t have to drag her with him.

“YN?”

“Hmm?”

When he looked down at her, he realized her eyes were closed and that she was letting him guide her. Loki was only surprised for a moment before he remembered always seeing her with a glass in her hands. Obviously what she was feeling wasn’t trust.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

Her brows furrowed but her eyes still didn’t open, “when?”

“Right now.”

That got her attention.

“Eat and sleep,” she replied without thought.

She didn’t say it aloud, but Loki knew she also wanted to be alone. He could see it on her face and the way she’d let out a small sigh when they’d first walked into the silent hallway. He understood the need more than she could imagine.

“I can have dinner sent up to your room…or we can do something else if you prefer?” he added quickly when her face pinched into a strange expression he couldn’t read.

“No,” she blurted out and then stated more calmly, the first option’s fine. Are you joining?”

He shook his head, “only if you’d like me too.”

She seemed to hesitate, looking at the walls as if they physically had ears.

He saved her from having to find a clever way to turn him down, “actually, I have things to take care of tonight and I have to return to the banquet hall. Do you know the way back to your room?”

She nodded so quickly Loki almost laughed. She was a terrible liar. He didn’t know where the performance in the council room had come from, but he had no doubts she was lying to him now. The prospect of being on her own seemed to have rejuvenated her. She straightened, cricking her neck from side to side and scratching over her shoulder. She obviously wanted to take a look around — without him around of course.

“Explore or don’t,” he said, truly meaning it, “the council knows who you are now, so no one will kick you out of the palace if they see you snooping around.”

“Who says I’ll be snooping?” she yawned for effect, “I was planning on getting an early night.”

This time he couldn’t help but laugh, “sure. Goodnight YN. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Her face fell.

“Don’t worry, it’s only breakfast,” he reassured her, omitting the fact that they had a meeting after breakfast. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. It was no secret that she didn’t trust him. He didn’t blame her. He was lying and he didn’t trust her either.

“Only with you?” she clarified.

“Only with me,” he echoed.

That seemed to appease her and she was about to leave when something occurred to him. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She paused, “only if I can ask you one.”

“Fair enough,” he amended, “would you spar with me some time?”

Loki had been surprised when she’d said that she was a soldier and he was more than a little curious to know how many of her lies had been based in truth. She’d shut down all his earlier attempts at getting to know her better and he was certain she’d do her best to keep it that way. So he figured he would have to be more clever about it.

He was surprised, and pleased, when she nodded.

“I would like that.”

“Good,” he murmured, afraid that if he said anything else she might change her mind, “your turn.”

“What Lucius said about…” she didn’t finished her sentence but she didn’t have to. He knew what she was talking about.

“He likes to speak out of turn,” Loki paused, choosing his words carefully. There was no one else in the hallway, but this was information that his future queen should have already known, “some of the council members haven’t always been supportive of the fact that there was an equal chance that there could have been two kings on the throne or a king and a queen. Even if fate decided to bring you into my life, those council members still seem bitter about my personal preferences..

She nodded slowly, taking the information in. There wasn’t much other than a thoughtful expression on her face and Loki was relieved. This whole thing would have been finished if she had reacted any other way.

“Has there ever been two kings or two queens in Asgard?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he smirked, “but love is love. And in Asgard, that’s the only requirement. There’s nothing they could say or do about it.”

Her face softened and she took his hand. The gesture surprised him, even more so when she gave it a little squeeze, “as it should be. Goodnight prince.”

And then she walked off in the wrong direction.

When he pointed that out, she looked back over her shoulder, an innocent smile on her face that didn’t match the mischief in her eyes, “just taking a little detour, don’t worry about it.”

He was probably going to worry about it later, but he watched her walk away. He’d promised himself that he’d give her as much freedom as was safe for her and his realm. There was no way she’d find the Hand on her own, so he had to trust that she wasn’t really and threat and that she’d be safe after what he was about to do.

When he couldn’t hear her steps anymore, he turned back to the council room. No one reacted when he walked in.

Hela had made her move less than a moon ago, but the council had taken that opportunity whole-heartedly to remind him that he was no longer king. He was only a prince temporarily in charge of the realm, but he wasn’t going to lose his position. He refused to let his people fall into Hela’s hands. Loki had never wanted the crown, but now that he’d had it, he was going to make damn well sure that he kept it. His brother had asked for that much.

“Listen closely.”

Loki didn’t need to shout. His voice carried throughout the room, his tone reminding them that he had once been their king. And with reason. He was far more powerful than everyone in this room, even some of them combined.

“No one touches YN,” he warned, his words slow and deliberate. He found every set of eyes in the room, making sure they all felt seen, “she will be your future queen. There is no doubt about it in my mind. And she might not have a long lifespan, but I have a long memory. You will treat her with the same respect as you did my mother. You’ve been warned.”

He didn’t give them a chance to answer and walked back out of the room. Loki didn’t think any of them would go outright and kill her, but he knew enough of them were power hungry bigots to do something stupid. Thankfully, the council was still wary of him even if he wasn’t their king any more. He could rest easier knowing they’d been warned and his own court was keeping an eye on YN most of the time. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but he wasn’t going to lock her up or stop her from roaming the palace, even if it did cost him his title.

He strode through the palace, not sure where he was heading and not sure what to do with himself. His whole body felt two sizes too small and he couldn’t shake the feeling. There were so many other things he had to do, but he couldn’t make himself decide on one. Only the thought of his bead was appealing, and even then, he was too restless to really consider it.

“I saw your queen,” Nebula said, falling into step beside him.

She was still dressed in her commanders uniform, dirt smudged over her eyebrow. She’d been sparring with the soldiers again. Not that he was surprised. She been so grumpy this morning that he pitied his army; though at least he knew they’d be prepared to face anything. There were very few things that were more terrifying than his commander when she was angry.

“Where was she?” he asked.

Nebula’s voice was clipped, her mood no better than it was this morning, “roaming the halls, looking incredibly suspicious.”

Loki threw up a magical sound bubble that would contain their voices. Knowing how suspicious it looked, he didn’t like to do it often, even if it was now the second time he’d done it today, but he knew she wasn’t about to let this go. Feeling the magic, she waited until it snapped into place.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he said with a laugh, knowing that just because they couldn’t be heard didn’t mean they couldn’t be seen.

Nebula crossed her arms, keeping up with his long strides, “she wants the Hand, Loki.”

He waved away her worry, “it’s safe.”

“What makes you think she won’t get it?”

He shot her a look. They both knew who was guarding it. There was no way anyone was getting it — human or otherwise. His answer didn’t seem to satisfy her.

“Who says she’s not a spy?” she continued, her voice rising with irritation, “who says she’s not here for the book to give it to Hela? Who says we even have the right woman?”

Loki tried not to pinch the bridge of his nose. Nebula was right to be concerned; there was a reason he’d appointed her as commander. Still, he found himself saying with more confidence than he felt, “I wanted to know how to prevent Hela from winning over the crown and it gave me her name. She has to be the future queen.”

“Did you ever stop to consider that maybe we need to kill her and not work with her?” Nebula demanded.

The words were harsh, but valid. Yet Loki knew Nebula wouldn’t actually go through with it. As far as they knew, YN was innocent, despite wanting the Hand. And he was sure she was an ally, not an enemy. He couldn’t explain why he was so certain, but he’d decided it the moment he’d met her. However, it wasn’t like he could explain that to Nebula. She would need something far more concrete than a gut feeling.

“You’re being rash,” she continued.

He realized she was steering them toward the kitchen and his stomach growled in anticipation. He wasn’t sure how she did it, or if she was even aware she was doing it, but Nebula had a way of knowing what was best for their court, even if her harsh demeanour didn’t always make it very evident.

“Says the woman who wants to kill the future queen,” he countered.

“She wouldn’t be the future queen if you had thought things through,” she growled, stopping him a hand to his chest, “we’re walking a thing line here, Loki.”

“I know that! But I needed to present my queen today and she showed up just in time. Don’t you think there’s something to that?” Loki’s voice was rising and his control was slipping. The bubble around them almost dropped in the burst of emotion.

She poked him in the chest, but she’d lost all bite at his outburst. They were both tired and running through this blind. Arguing wouldn’t help any of them see things clearer.

“We had a backup plan,” she murmured.

“You would have been miserable as queen,” he shot her a smile, “especially that you would have to admit that you find me incredibly attractive.”

She punched him on the arm, “I’m a good liar.”

“Very true,” he laughed, “but this is the best option, Nebula. Trust me.” Loki wasn’t sure that he trusted himself, but he had to believe he was doing the right thing. And if he wasn’t, at least he knew his court was there to help with his mistakes — and to make sure he never forgot them, “and I’ll stay on my guard with YN.”

She sighed reluctantly, but finally looked convinced, “okay.”

“Okay,” he changed the subject, “what have the citizens been saying?”

“They’ll fight if it comes to war again. I tried to reassure them that nothing was wrong and that we were just gathering information, but they know something’s coming. They can feel it,” Nebula shrugged, “Hela’s arrival’s made them all uneasy.”

He nodded slowly and sighed, “better they’re wary than oblivious.”

“They’d better be wary,” Nebula said with a printed look, “you have a human for a future queen and she was stupid enough to agree to the trials. You’d better hope you were right about what that thing meant when it gave you the word YN.”

Loki could only nod and let the magic bubble drop. He was about to follow her into the kitchen when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. The hallway was empty, but he could have sworn he’d seen something. He listened closely, waiting to see if whoever it was might give themselves away.

“Are you coming?” Nebula called from the kitchen.

He heard the banging of pots and decided he’d better go inside before she decided to start cooking and accidentally set the palace on fire. With one last look around, he walked into the kitchen.

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x y/n #fan fiction #fanfic #marvel #reader insert

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nosferatvpussy · 4 years

Text

distorted lullabies [chapter II]

Word count: 5,675

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link if you prefer that format.

chapter one

“But my Lord!” I exclaimed, doing my best to hurry after Judge Llewellyn and not slip on the wet steps of the Royal Courts of Justice.

He opened his umbrella over his bald head, absolutely ignoring any attempt of being polite and offering me some cover. So I practically ran after him and stuck myself under his umbrella with him to avoid the pouring rain.

“Miss L/N!” he complained, furrowing his white caterpillar eyebrows. His dark eyes were tiny angry slits staring back at me as he continued walking. “Now you are being indiscreet! You were late. I am sure whatever motion you have got to present can wait until the courts open again on Monday.”

“But it can’t wait, my Lord. Not only that but my team has also uncovered important information-” I spoke so fast I was surprised that every word came out clear as day.

“It can wait. Good evening to you!” he bumped his shoulder on mine as if to dismiss me but I wasn’t letting it go.

“It cannot wait, Llewellyn! If you give me a chance to file these motions this evening, the Wilkes children can return to their mother tonight!” He stopped walking abruptly and turned to scowl at me. I was going to get scolded, I knew it, but I couldn’t for the life of me shut up. “These children have suffered enough, my Lord. I am begging you. You wouldn’t let this happen to your own family.”

“You are out of line, Miss L/N!” he boomed as if we were in the courtroom. I had trained myself not to flinch anymore under duress but the glances we attracted certainly embarrassed me, especially since a few of them were from colleagues passing on the street. “You will address me as it is proper and you will not attempt to put my position in check! Those children are being well taken care of in Children’s Services. May I remind you that we are bound by oath to follow the law? Procedure is procedure and I will abide by it until I retire, which is far from happening. Do not presume that your pretty face will make things easier for you in my court. I expect better posture from you on Monday. Are we clear?”

I could not believe my ears.

Maybe I was out of line - I could agree with that - but I expected more compassion from a man who had been working as a Judge of the Family Division of the High Court for almost as long as I have been alive. But what truly left my mouth agape was the bit about my “pretty face”. If I hadn’t already made things bad I would have had a grand time of making a case of just how misogynistic that claim was. However, I was not going to give him any more reasons to hold me in contempt.

“Crystal, my Lord,” I bit off, trying to meet his eyes without any defiance in them.

“I heard great things about you from Pauline McGowan,” I immediately unfurrowed my brows upon hearing the name of one the strictest professors I had had on Law School. “I hope she was not wrong. Use your brain, not your looks. Enjoy your weekend,” and he was gone, leaving me in the rain.

“I am using my brain, you fucking twat,” I whispered to myself as I hurried out of the rain, taking shelter under a bus stop close by.

Judge Llewellyn had almost made it better by mentioning McGowan but then he ruined it by mentioning my looks. To say I was angry and insulted would be an understatement. Toughen up, I told myself.

Ignoring the stares of my colleagues on the other side of the street, I whipped my phone out of my purse to order an Uber and papers came flying out, dancing in the wind, treacherously out of my reach.

“Fucking hell!”

God, if those papers were damaged that would mean that I would have to get new official ones and take them to Count Dracula, again. And I would not do that. Seeing my distress a teenage boy decided to help me gather them and stick them back in my purse.

“Thanks! Really, thank you so much!” I said for the third time in a row.

He kept staring at me with a silly smile on his face.

“Huhh- can I like… get your number?”

I blinked, digging my nails on the palms of my hands so I wouldn’t burst out laughing. What a fantastic end to a day. Not only had a Count made an attempt to woo me, but I was also insulted by a High Court judge and now I had a 15 year old asking for my number. Cute, yes, but what had I done to the universe to deserve this kind of attention?

“I don’t think so, love,” I managed, putting on an apologetic smile.

“Are you sure? Cus like we can-”

“She’s sure,” said a velvety voice with a hint of finality.

I pivoted to my left to see Count Dracula standing over my shoulder with a polite grin plastered to his lips. I was drilling a hole through his skull with my eyes but he kept his stare on the boy as if I wasn’t there.

“I can take care of myself, thanks,” I said through gritted teeth. Yes, maybe he was trying to be polite but years and years of people talking over me had made me develop a reflex of shooting someone down even if they were on my side. And I knew I most definitely did not want Count Dracula on my side. He was too handsome to be good news.

“I don’t doubt that for a second, Y/N.”

“Are you following me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Finally taking the hint, the teenager shuffled to the other side of bus stop.

“Why would you think that?” he said very slowly.

“You live on the other side of London. And I’d say it is pretty unlikely we would bump into each other.”

“But not impossible. Perhaps fate is at play here, uniting us,” he bowed his head closer to mine, one hand dramatically draped on his chest.

“Charming...” I rolled my eyes. “What are you doing on Strand? There are far more beautiful sights in London.”

He made a show of looking around us as if to analyse the sights. Across from us, the gothic building that served as the Royal Courts was lit up in purple lights from below, casting shadows and highlighting every intricate detail of the structure. Our side of the street was all yellow lights and a mix of neoclassical and gothic design.

Having lived in London all my life I barely realised just how unique and beautiful the city could be to a foreigner. Especially to someone who had lived most of his life isolated somewhere in Eastern Europe, as Renfield had mentioned to me. Strand had become part of my routine for the last years and I hardly paid attention to my surroundings during my daily commutes. Count Dracula, however, seemed to be quite fascinated by it.

“I decided to prowl the city in search of a good meal,” he said at last, taking a step closer so he was stood in front of me. From this angle I could see that he had something smudged on the side of his mouth. “Ended up there,” he indicated a corner at the end of the street with his head “and then I heard your lovely voice arguing with an old man as I finished eating.”

I surveyed him coolly. He smiled under my scrutiny, remaining very still. To be fair Strand did have fantastic restaurants and it was a tourist attraction. He could have just asked any cabbie to take him to a popular destination and ended up somewhere around here. If he was dropped off at Trafalgar Square, he could have wandered to the Courts. Finally, I decided it was not that unlikely that he had found himself all the way from Kensington to Strand.

“You have some sauce on your face,” was what came out of my mouth. I touched a finger to my lower lip to show him where. “What did you eat, bolognese pasta?”

He raised his thick eyebrows, smiling devilishly as if that was incredibly funny and pulled a handkerchief from an inside pocket of his blazer.

“Rare steak, actually. Delicious. Thank you for warning me,” he said after wiping his mouth clean. I bobbed my head as a welcome. “What are your plans for the rest of the night? TGIF is what this generation says, right?”

Laughter escaped my lips before I could stop it. Hearing “TGIF” from a man of his prestige and age caught me completely off-guard.

“Yes it is,” I answered, still laughing. “Until twenty minutes ago my plans consisted of going home, ordering takeout and binge watching Netflix until I passed out. But getting in argument with a judge certainly got to me. So I’m heading to Camden Town to get drunk. By myself,” I added so he would understand that I was not inviting him. Why did I even give him so many details? I questioned, suddenly struggling to break eye contact with him.

“May I give you a lift? Merely being chivalrous,” he raised his hands, showing me his palms as if to add to his “innocent” claim.

“Do you even have a car?”

“Not yet. But Renfield has been kind enough to lend me his in the meanwhile. It’s parked not far away from here,” he explained. Moving closer to me he placed a hand on the small of my back, “Please, it’s dark and while you are perfectly able to take care of yourself I would rest easier if I was the one to drive you to this town.”

“It’s not a town,” I replied. “It’s a district.”

“Is that a yes?” he pulled his eyebrows together.

He was an attractive man, I would give him that. Sexy, even. But from my experience that didn’t always equal nice things. However, my brain was starting to disconnect from my body and when his eyebrows did that I felt butterflies doing cartwheels on my stomach. Those traitors.

Use your brain. Hm, maybe Llewellyn could act as my conscience if all else failed.

I felt something poke me on the back of my ribs and I dodged Dracula’s hand to turn and look. An old lady sitting on the bus stop’s bench gazed at me attentively, milky blue eyes shifting between the Count and I. Her hair was white as snow but her face was hardly wrinkled, withstanding the test of age.

“Go,” she whispered, winking at me. “He’s a good one. They don’t make men like this anymore. Trust me.”

My body immediately relaxed as I chuckled. Leaning closer to her, I winked back.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said in the same amused fashion.

She grinned for a second then her expression closed itself again, as if Count Dracula hadn’t witnessed the entire exchange. She shooed me away with her hand and a gleeful glint in her old eyes.

Turning to Dracula, I caught the triumphant expression on his face. If he thought he had won this round then he was seriously mistaken.

“I’ll let you be chivalrous and accompany me there. But don’t think this is an opportunity to make another pass at me. I haven’t got more insolence to spend today”, I took control of my lips before I could smile at using the same word he had accused me of earlier “and I’m trying to be friendly. So, behave.”

A grin slowly emerged on his face, exhibiting white teeth and pouring all his charm into it. His fine lines only appeared when he smiled or frowned which made me question his true age. It made him all the more alluring.

“For now,” he responded, placing a hefty hand on the small of my back again.

_____________________________________________________________

Most of the drive to Camden was surprisingly quiet. I was the only one speaking from time to time to give him directions. But then when he finally made a curve that brought us right into the heart of Camden, an awed sound escaped him.

The neon lights from store signs tinted the inside of the car in red and green. The cloudy night sky had gained a wonderful violet tonality that said that more rain would come but that didn’t stop the Camden streets to be overcrowded. Looking out the window, I could see people getting tattooed inside the nearest tattoo parlour. Vintage shops, pubs, restaurants and the food market all of them busy with boisterous noise from people and music.

It was a stark contrast to London’s weather.

“I love it here,” I told Dracula.

“I… love it, too,” he almost whispered, gawking at two girls with pink hair passing on the street. “Uncanny.”

“That’s a good way to describe it. Hey, there’s a good parking spot,” I pointed ahead to an alley that ran between a salon and an adult store.

He gaped at the adult store window display, showcasing a mannequin clad in latex, a cape and fangs drawn on over its lips. Handcuffs held the mannequin’s hands together while another mannequin was positioned as if to show them whipping the other one.

Count Dracula laughed suddenly and I joined him when he couldn’t seem to stop.

“It’s a trend at the moment in this side of the world,” I explained between laughs.

The car behind us honked and the Count finally made the turn to the alley, parking behind a row of motorbikes.

“Vampires are a trend?” he asked, killing the car’s engine.

“They haven’t been out of fashion since the 90s, especially. But I was talking about the BDSM thing,” I grabbed my briefcase and purse and opened my door.

Count Dracula was standing there a mere second later, holding the door open for me and offering a hand. Frowning, I did a double take between him and the driver’s seat. How had he moved so quickly? I shrugged it off, thinking that he must have gotten out of the car while I was distracted getting my things.

Accepting his hand, I let him support me while I got out of the car. We were awfully close to each other, I realised with a start. I had to look up from his chest to meet his eyes, which glowed red under the neon lights.

“What’s that?” he muttered. It was pure luck that the alley was deserted, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to hear him over Camden’s noise.

The alley was empty. And I was alone in the dark with a man whom I didn’t know very well. My heart hurt as if a hand had squeezed it. Shit. I could feel the tips of my fingers going numb and my legs getting cold from fear.

When had I stopped using my brain and ended up here?

As if sensing my fear, his nostrils flared for a moment and then he stepped back, giving me enough space so I could breathe.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, I was being-”

“Polite, I know,” I finished before he could.

Yellow light from a lamppost shone on him when he stepped back and I stared at his face. He was either truly sorry or very good at faking it. We looked at each other for what seemed a long time before I started to relax.

I wasn’t particularly scared of him, I decided after analysing the situation for a second. Being a woman I had been brought up with an instilled and sensible fear of men in general, as it is with most women - unfortunately.

Count Dracula opened his mouth to say something but I was faster.

“It’s fine,” I said reassuringly, to him or myself I wasn’t sure. “Your chivalry doesn’t seem to fit with how on edge I am as a person. Why don’t we tone it down for a minute?” Willing my heart to slow down by taking deep breaths, I sauntered past him towards the shiny and inviting colours of Camden’s markets. I turned around, seeing Dracula with his hands stuffed inside his pockets and a puzzled look on his face. “Are you coming?”

“You want me to come with you?”

“You obviously like Camden. I’m not leaving you around someplace you don’t know, looking like that. You’ll just attract trouble,” I gestured with my head so he would follow me.

Turning the tables for a second made me feel slightly better. He was a tall man and he had this vaguely menacing air about him that made me doubt that he attracted more trouble than the occasional horny person with working eyes. There was no denying he was nice to look at. He just would not attract the same kind of trouble as I would, that was a fact.

“Looking like what, exactly?” he asked when he caught up with me.

“I don’t need to tell you how you look like. You have looked at yourself in the mirror, I trust,” I shot back with a smirk.

“I try to avoid them, actually. I would much prefer if you gave me your thoughts on how I look like.”

Chuckling, I tugged the sleeve of his blazer so he wouldn’t go past the entrance of my favourite pub. The light banter was a good way to relieve my previous anxiety.

“I’m not feeding your ego anymore than that,” I turned to flash him an amused smile as I pushed the door open.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk,” he made, knitting his brows and making an excellent job at feigning indignation.

An involuntary image popped into my head of him making that sound at me while holding the handcuffs from the adult store. I swiveled my face away so he wouldn’t catch the desire that had undoubtedly appeared on my eyes.

Use your brain, use your brain, use brain.

We made our way to the counter dodging the seas of people laughing drunkenly. It took us a few seconds but we managed to wiggle our way up to the nearest barmaid. I waved my hand to get her attention and she signaled back that she’d seen me.

While we waited, the music changed to Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode and I absently started mouthing the words and moving to the beat of the song. I felt more than saw Dracula shifting closer to me and I stopped dancing, fully turning my body so we were facing each other and putting my hips well away from his grasp so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

Dark eyes met mine, a fire burning in them that could have made my cheeks blush a few years ago. I put on my best deadpan expression so he would give up but it was fruitless.

Shifting closer still, he said “You didn’t answer my question before.”

“Which one?”

“What’s BDSM?” he asked precisely when the barmaid came to take our orders.

The barmaid’s mouth fell open for a second but she quickly recovered from it and sniggered.

“Okay…” she drew out. “What can I get you?”

“Rum and coke,” I looked at Count Dracula, looking curiously between me and the woman. “What will you have?”

“Nothing, thanks,” he nodded his head at the barmaid to dismiss her and she left. Seeing my furrowed brows, he added. “I don’t drink… alcohol.”

“I’m sure they serve non-alcoholic drinks here,” I raised my hand to get the attention of the barmaid again.

“No need.”

A large hand closed around my wrist and politely pushed it down but did not let go. Instead, he used it to bring me closer. My eyes flickered from his and to his hand as a silent request to let me go. He loosened his grip but kept his hand on me. I pulled back to create distance between us.

“BDSM stands for bondage, discipline, sadism and masochism… I think. I’m not entirely knowledgeable on the subject. Mostly it’s related to sex but that’s not exclusively the norm.” My response broke his attention on me for a second while he considered it.

“Oh!” He joined his hands and chuckled. “So there is a name for it now. How delightful.”

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish trying to find my words. I couldn’t take my eyes off of his, that’s how dumbfounded I was by the implications of his answer. Slowly, he let his gaze travel over me when he stopped laughing and a chill went down my spine. He was undressing me with his gaze, I knew it and I stood there allowing myself to feel desired for a second before taking control back.

I was still trying to work out how exactly I was going to regain control when the barmaid saved me by returning with my drink. Finally, I rescued my arm from the Count’s grip and took hold of my glass. I downed half of it in two gulps.

“You promised me you’d behave,” I declared. God, it was a challenge to maintain eye contact with him but I was not losing this battle.

“I didn’t promise you anything, my dear,” his eyes shone mischievously.

Fuck, he really hadn’t. But if he wanted to play a power game, I could do it.

“I have no interest in you,” liar, my body screamed at me. “So let’s keep it friendly or I’ll leave.”

Dracula inhaled deeply, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He straightened for a second on his barstool but then relaxed again, placing an elbow on the counter. The staring contest between us was put on pause and he met my eyes with curiosity instead of heat.

“The judge,” he said simply. “You are clearly someone who does not accept being undermined, so why let him talk to you like that?”

I stared at him. A single black eyebrow jumped up, waiting.

“You’d make a fine lawyer”, I conceded with a small smile.

“Why’s that?”

“You asked me a question that’s perfect to incriminate a defendant. Why would I surrender to him but not you?” I swallowed down the last of my drink, keeping my eyes on him and he grinned from ear to ear. “By following that logic, once I surrendered to Judge Llewellyn it is plausible that I surrender to you as well, is it not?”

“Now you’re putting words in my mouth,” he rubbed his chin, a full grin still stamped on his mouth.

“Mm-hm,” I grinned back. “I don’t have the option to be rude to a judge while working. I was out of line and he was right to call me out on that. As much as I don’t like being treated a certain way for being a woman and looking the way I do, withstanding that treatment is just something I’ve got to deal with on a daily basis.”

“Ah, I see,” his grin faltered for a second and then slowly faded. “And if things were different?”

“Oh, I would whip Llewellyn into submission until he granted me respect,” I shot back, laughing at my own joke. “But I’m not power hungry like that. I like having just enough to have some control.”

“Seems we are drifting back into BDSM territory.”

My laughter came easily again. The rum was obviously starting to affect me already.

“This conversation is taking a weird turn. Let’s go back to basics,” I suggested while showing my empty glass to the nearest bartender. He nodded back to indicate he’d bring me another one. “You sound quite English. I suppose you had a good teacher all the way in... Hungary?” I guessed.

“Romania,” he corrected, rolling his R and accentuating the last syllable. It was the first hint of his actual accent I had heard coming from his lips. “Indeed. Coincidentally, this teacher of mine was a lawyer like you.”

And with that, the conversation moved forward much smoother. Of course with the occasional banter that seemed to be a requirement whenever we opened our mouths. Still, it flowed nicely, the back and forth of questions we had for one another. By the end of the night, I had acquired a sense of trust in him simply because I knew more about him.

He explained that his actual title was Voivode, which was closer to Prince than Count but he preferred the latter because he considered that “Wallachia’s principality was an obsolete system constantly defied by usurpers”. I noticed that he constantly referred to Wallachia, the region where he was born, rather than using the name Romania.

He stated nonchalantly that he was a widower to many brides, which struck me as odd at first but everyone dealt with grief differently. More than once I saw him picking his words as to not give away too much but I didn’t judge him on that for I did the same. He only slipped once upon mentioning a friend by the name of Agatha of whom he had been very fond of but had drowned during a boat trip. When talking of her, I was fascinated by the wistfulness in his voice and the delighted smile that took control of his mouth. Perhaps the rum had played its part but I found it heartwarming to hear him speak so highly of someone who had clearly meant a lot to him.

The more we spoke, I realised he had much more depth than he let on. Sure, he was a cocky bastard but one that wanted more from the world than what his title could provide. Curiosity drove him. He wanted to “drink up” the knowledge from this era which he had been deprived of for so long.

When he’d had enough of talking about himself he started prodding me with various questions, most of which I had laughed off because they were too complex for my brain on alcohol. Some of them were standard questions people made when getting to know one another, as why did I choose to go to Law School, did I have brothers and sisters, had I been abroad. But they got progressively deeper such as would I live forever if I could, would I kill anyone if there were no consequences, did I believe in magic.

“Are you scared of dying?” he asked me at last.

Too distracted eating chips and downing yet another glass of rum and coke, he placed his hand over mine when I didn’t answer right away.

“Are you?” the intensity on his voice made me blink.

I tried to focus and ground myself in reality. Fixing my stare on him, I let the darkness in his eyes engulf me and drown the sounds around us. For a second he was the only person in the room. My heartbeat raced. I was unsure if it was my body trying to sober me up or just him.

“This is an important question for you,” I stated.

“Yes. And I would very much like to hear your answer.”

I licked my lips and shut my eyes in thought. It broke the bubble of darkness that had settled about us and the noise came crashing back, flooding my senses with music, laughter and excited voices.

His hand was still over mine and I moved my own so I could interlace my fingers on his as an attempt to focus.

“It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled, still staring at the pitch black of my eyelids.

“What?”

“Death doesn’t matter. It just happens to people. Were there times I contemplated it? Yes. But it does not matter because I am alive and will eventually die as does everyone on this planet.”

His fingers tightened around mine and I opened my eyes to watch his reaction but there was nothing there. His face was empty, likening one of a statue.

“I think I’ve drank a little too much. Alcohol has a way of making me more insightful than normal,” mumbling and suddenly feeling like I had done something wrong, I withdrew my hand. It was as cold as his. “Will you take me home?”

___________________________________________________________

“You can stop here,” I told Count Dracula and he diminished the car’s speed until we came to a halt.

“They all look the same,” said he, admiring the terraced houses that continued down the street. I could see the Clapham Common’s lights very dimly ahead of us.

“That one’s mine,” I pointed to the closest. It was the only one that had bushes of red and white roses decorating the small garden in front of it. Hugging my belongings, I gave him a small smile. “Thank you. You behaved quite nicely.” I patted his shoulder.

“One of us had to do it,” he smiled back.

I scoffed.

“I was going to say I behaved like a perfect lady but I’m not a lady,” I grabbed the door handle and pushed it open in the same movement, which resulted in my purse and briefcase spilling out of my lap and falling to the street. “Ah, shit!”

Not a moment later, Dracula was out of the car and had taken my things under one of his arms.

“I should show you to your door,” he said, offering me his free arm. “Wouldn’t want you tripping.”

I laced my arm with his and kicked off my heels, not minding that my stockings were the only thing between my feet and the freezing asphalt. I leaned down and picked up my shoes with one hand.

“Less likely to trip now but I’m still not fully sober, so I’ll accept the offer, oh good sir,” I giggled at my own joke.

The automatic light over my door came on when we stepped past the short iron gate that guarded my garden from the street. I wiggled free of Dracula’s arm and turned to him.

“I need my purse,” I informed. “To get my key,” I added when he didn’t seem to register what I had said.

He swallowed and grimaced as if that took great effort. Staring down at the ground, he gave me my things. I frowned, thinking if my joke had been in poor taste while I dug for keys inside my purse. A small sound of joy came out of me when I found them much faster than I usually did.

I was trying to fit them in the keyhole when a low groan reached my ears. I spinned to see Dracula standing way closer to me than he had a moment before. His head was thrown back, face turned upward and with parted lips, as if he was praying. He groaned again, harshly this time.

“Are you alright?” I asked, already fishing for my cell phone inside my purse in case I needed to call an ambulance.

A step closer and then his hands were holding my forearms. I dropped my stuff to ground with the sheer force in which he grabbed me. He pushed my back against the door, standing so much taller than me that he completely obscured the light above us.

“A taste. Just… a taste,” he spoke as if he was struggling to get the words out.

Barely breathing, I tried looking up into his face but he smashed his lips to mine before I could catch his eyes. My eyebrows shot up and I moaned in protest, struggling to push him away with my hands but he still had me well within his grasp. He stopped abruptly, leaning his forehead on mine. My nose was glued to his and I could feel my breath ricochet on his face.

“Count- no. I don’t think we should,” I all but whispered because it was all the strength I had in me. Appealing to reason, good, I told my brain.

And then his lips were on my cheeks, veering closer to my mouth for a second and then back to my cheeks, making a trail all the way to my earlobe and throwing all reason out the window.

“Please, please,” he whispered back, almost pleadingly. A kiss on my jawline made me shudder. A slow lick to the same place he had just kissed rid my body of all the stiffness it had built up. “Let me, my dear, let me…”

He retraced the path he had created and found my lips again. I exhaled, relenting to his touch. This time, my tongue greeted his and he groaned in response. His hands released my arms and circled my body, greedily seizing my hips and squeezing. My fingers found their way inside his shirt and I allowed my nails to lightly scrape the skin on the nape of his neck. He sucked my bottom lip to the point where it hurt but it only served to intensify the waves of pleasure flowing through my body.

A cry of protest left my mouth when he stopped the kiss. But then he followed that glorious path to the skin on my jaw and I shut up. One of his hands snaked up, finding my shirt’s collar and pushing it down. I pressed my body closer to his, striving to feel more of him, and in response his fingers digged down on my ass harshly.

Finally, his lips touched my neck and I tilted my head to grant him better access. Teeth lightly chafed the sensitive skin between sloppy and wet kisses until I was out of breath. Sharp pain followed for a second and I stiffened into his arms only to relax again when he held me tightly. A distinct mix of pleasure and pain flooded my body in a way I had never felt before and a moan tore out of me.

I’m going to have the biggest hickey ever tomorrow, was my last coherent thought.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

tapestry 👑 X

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The court celebrates the last hunt.

Note: Okay, so I called in today because of my anxiety at the suggestion of my boytoy and he told me to sleep in a bit. He’s not a doctor, but he’s got a PhD (pretty huge dick) so I have to listen. But I got this chapter done last night so y’all still get your fix, lol.

Also, I have to thank you guys, I really can’t thank you enough. I am in love with this fic and truly in your discussion of it bc yall seem as invested as I am and I just love all the possibilities and how these characters are turning out and it’s all been so much fun. So please, enjoy and remember that I love you (but I will not leave my wife for you, sorry).

(also open to new moodboards for the fic or even playlists for inspo if anyone’s interested. memes always welcome.)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋 You guys rock!

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

You were never one to stand out among a crowd. Were it not for the sling around your shoulder, that would still be true. You suspected, without the king's interest, that would be even more true. But despite your simply cut gown, you could sense the eyes as you entered the hall.

The trestles were set with scarlet cloth and silver plates. You followed the other unwed ladies to the table opposite the lower lords. The king would sit at the high table with several favoured lords and ladies and those of the council not among them would sit along the next.

You were surprised to spot your father along that group of men, though he did not wear the pin that the other counselors wore. He nodded at you from across the room as he took his seat. You were stopped before you could go behind the trestle by a servant in royal colours. The other ladies glanced over but quickly hid their curiosity.

“My lady,” The servant said. “You are to take the place of honour at the high table.”

“Pardon?” You stepped aside to let Joan pass behind you.

“The king has declared you the Maiden of the Forest. You must take your proper seat,” The servant insisted. “If you would follow me, my lady.”

“Um,” You glanced to the ladies as they sat along the bench then to the table where your father sat. His eyes narrowed at you as he listened to Lord Callum. “Certainly. As you will.”

You waited for the servant to lead you. You climbed the short steps up to the dais that held the king’s table. Diana and Mable sat with their husbands, Anthony and Samuel, and Lord Barnes stood next to an empty chair to the right of the king’s. The royal couple themselves were upon a short platform that held them another half foot above their guests.

The servant gestured towards Barnes. “Just down there, lady.” He explained. “With Lord Barnes.”

“Thank you,” You nodded to the man and he quickly departed for his other chores.

As you walked along the table, behind chairs both occupied and not, you stared at the king’s chair. The thought of spending the feast next to him filled you with dread. A blur of movement caught your eye and you found Lord Barnes awaiting you with a smile as you drew nearer.

“My lady,” He took your hand and bowed to kiss your hand dramatically. “The venerable Maiden of the Forest.”

“You mock me,” You accused. “Though I should wonder how a man in such a smock could find the gull to do so.”

“Oh but any silk not dull as stone would seem gauche next to your attire, my lady,” He quipped. “As a second daughter, I am certain you expected a convent but you’ve escaped the habit of yet.”

“I thought you the king’s man, not his jester,” You returned. He politely shifted the chair back for you to sit. “Though perhaps a fool’s cap would suit you better.”

“As much as a bolder shade would bring out your complexion, my lady,” He remarked as you sat. “Do you truly seek to deter the king or is this truly what you consider fashionable?”

“This is what an earl’s daughter can afford,” You said sharply.

“If only half this court was as self-aware as you, my lady,” He sat beside you, “Perhaps then it would not be so turbulent.”

“Oh, if only,” You agreed.

“The sling, however, does brighten the look,” He added. “How does your shoulder fair?”

“Tender but not so insufferable as my company.”

You looked across the room. Rose was not among the ladies. You hadn’t seen her since before the hunt and heard even less of her. ‘I will see that she is dealt with’, those were the words the king had spoke. The promise he’d made to you though you could not untangle his meaning.

“Oh my lady, I do remember the scene in your chambers,” He intoned. “I am not the worst you must suffer.”

He grinned as you looked to him. Your retort was curtailed by the sound of a horn. You stood at the announcement of the king’s arrival and all bowed as he entered. He wore a rich green brocade slitted with gold silk. The queen’s dress was a similar shade though she did not bear the same poise. Her sharp eyes scanned the hall and fell on you. She pushed her shoulders back and averted her gaze with detest.

Barnes shifted on his feet and peeked over at you out of the corner of his eye. You raised your brows and shook your head. He was not so unconcerned as he pretended to be. The king and queen made their entrance to the blaring of the horn and ascended the dais as their subjects waited and watched.

You kept your head forward as they passed behind you and the queen’s skirts brushed against the legs of your chair. “Snake.” She snarled under her breath for you to hear. You struggled not to flinch at the word and listened as her heels clicked up the step to her perch.

“You handle it better than most.” Barnes whispered as the royal couple sat and their guests followed suit.

“What else can I do but bite my tongue and keep my eyes forward?” You returned as he reached for the decanter and filled his goblet.

“Wine?” He offered but did not await your answer before he poured it in your cup. “And let me say, I’ve seen a dozen or so women in your position and they often resort to boasting, arrogance even.”

“In my position? And you think--”

“Oh, I know of your modesty,” He assured you as he sipped and servants appeared with platters and began to set them out between silver plates. “Though such restraint is almost unknown at this court. I suspect that’s why the king has remained so persistent.”

You drank from your cup and glanced over at the king. You worried he would overhear. He was entirely distracted by Eleanor’s whispers though barely entertained. He scowled as his eyes swept the ceiling and he huffed in response.

“He has persisted before, has he not?” You kept your voice low.

“A month, maybe two, and only after he obtained his prize.” He paused as a platter was set between you. “You only expedited Rose’s downfall but you didn’t cause it.”

“Is that your expectation? A month, maybe two for me?” You wondered. “It is not that I do not expect the same treatment, only that I’d hope to avoid the same end.”

“I don’t know what to expect,” He shrugged as he speared a slice of venison from the platter. “For so long as I’ve known the king, I’ve not quite seen him as I did in your chamber.”

“Surely he must’ve promised the same to other ladies.” You took a smaller piece and scooped some roasted veggies upon your plate.

“Jewels and fancy baubles only,” He said. “Eleanor is a princess herself, even without the marriage. What he intends is not so easily done as said.”

“And you think he truly means to do it?” You hovered your fork above your plate as you stared at him. Despite the edge of his tongue, he proved to be the most honest at court.

“I think he means to have you,” He cut into his venison, “And there is little that can stop him once he has his mind set.”

You looked to your plate and pushed a piece of potato around the silver. Your stomach knotted as you pondered cutting your meat with one hand.

“My lady,” A whisper distracted you. You looked over as the king leaned down. “I should ask after your health.”

“I am well,” You assured him. “My arm does not bother me so much but I must avoid straining it further.”

“Well enough to dance?” He ventured as his eyes lit up. “Being the Maiden of the Forest, it would be expected you take up the boards.”

“A dance.” You assured him, “But not many more. I fear the sling would make me far more ungainly than I already am.”

“A dance, a smile, I relish in all that you allow me, my lady,” His eyes flicked down for just a moment. “And what of the gifts I have given you?”

Your eyes rounded for a moment before you recalled the opal necklace still hidden in your trunk. “Oh, your highness, how forgetful I am. It has all been so hectic I’ve not even the thought to wear it, though it is the finest piece I’ve ever owned.”

“I should like that you would,” He reproached. “As a marker of my love for you.”

You looked down and nodded. “I will have to remind myself,” You said quietly. “I do forget myself so often.”

“Oh, but lady, do not punish yourself,” He said softly. “For I bear you no anger, I only wish to see you well.”

“And I do thank you for your concern,” You looked up at him. “It means very much.”

“I think of nothing else,” He assured you, “No one else.”

He bowed his head and sat up. The queen’s eyes glared across the room as she ignored her husband’s conversation with you. You sat back and took another drink. Barnes was smiling as he swallowed his mouthful.

“While I admire your grace, I know you are rather adept at rancor. Perhaps you would be best to prove the same to him.” He mused. “Oh, it might solve many problems should you speak with more than a lamb’s tongue.”

“I am honest--”

“Oh but you coat it in honey,” He interjected. “Our king is wise. Should you bite him once, he might just leave you alone.”

“And should he choose to swat me down instead?”

“Despite what you’ve known of him, he is not entirely irrational,” He said coolly. “Perhaps he might realize his wife is not so vile after all.”

“Perhaps,” You mulled as you prodded a slice of carrot, “Or perhaps it is too late for even that.”

👑

The night wore on. Your shoulder ached; from the tension, from the stiff chair, from your general discomfort. The king would lean down to speak to you every now and then and as he did, all in the hall would notice. Though they tried to be subtle, you did not miss their intrusive eyes.

Lord Barnes did not hide his awareness either. At times, he'd lean back and speak to the king around you. The queen's malice radiated from the other side of the king but she would not acknowledge her husband's obvious disregard.

When the meal came to an end, the horn sounded once more and the platters were cleared. Several courses had left guests joyous and half-drunk.

The king stood before the band could begin to pluck. He held a hand up as he waited for silence. His subjects hushed their chatter and looked to him. He smiled back, a beacon of kingly grace.

"And so we close another season. This marks the beginning of winter and the end of our most bountiful season." His voice carried easily across the hall. "As is tradition we must crown our Maiden of the Forest."

You gulped and looked to Barnes. He smirked at the king's words and scoffed. He leaned back and watched nonchalantly as Steven continued. A servant appeared at the wave of his hand.

"If you would, my lady," He nodded to you as he took a circlet of vines and petals from the servant.

You rose stiffly. He offered his free hand and you took it as he guided you up beside him. The queen kept her head high and you peered out across the hall. Your father was turned around in his chair watching proudly. The servant helped remove your cap.

"In the name of the hunt, I name you our Maiden of the Forest." The king announced as he placed the crown of flowers upon your head. "May you reign this night with grace and joy."

"Thank you, your highness, " Your voice was brittle as your head swayed.

"And to close the old season and open the new, let us dance." He declared. "Maiden, would you grant me your first dance?"

You nodded. At first, your throat was too tight to speak. The queen's hand was balled in a fist upon the table. "Yes, your highness," You managed, "If you can forgive my shortfalls, it is yours."

"Then let us dance!" He boomed.

For a moment, no one moved and then all at once, the band picked up and the nobles began to rise from the tables. They filtered out to the floor as the king led you behind the chairs and from the dais. Barnes did not rise and poured himself another cup.

The king pressed his palm to yours as you came to face each other. You felt awkward and unbalanced with your other arm in its sling. As he moved his feet, you shuffled around him. You hadn't thought your dancing could get worse.

"My lady, I am glad to see you well." He cooed. "I admit I was restless with worry for you."

"Your highness." You said curtly and looked around at the other dancers.

He was silent for a moment as you followed the music.

"Have I wronged you, my lady?" He asked.

"Have you? Oh, how can you not see what you do to me? This court reviles me due to your humiliation of the queen. Your declarations that would allude to adultery."

"My lady, I only mean to honour you and your virtue--"

"What you mean and what you have done are not the same. You would crown me with your wife at your side. You would overlook her for me. You would sully my virtue as you claim to protect it." You glanced over at Barnes as he remained at the table. He looked into his cup as he sloshed it around. "And I have treated you with nothing by reverence and yet you persist."

"I have promised you anon that the woman who claims herself as my wife is none such." He hissed. "But I must gather my evidence before I can make it known. Before I can right what is wrong."

"You promise me what you cannot give. You would rob me of my future for your present desire. Your highness, I cannot hold my tongue further and tolerate you as you are so blatant in your disregard." You pulled away from him. A little bite to warn him; to scare him away. "Your majesty I must return to my former chambers and return to you your gift accepted only under duress for I cannot demean myself for you any longer. Not so long as you sit in sin."

He reeled as if you had struck him. You stepped away as he stared at you, his nostrils flared as his eyes searched you. He lingered between fury and despair.

"My lady, you do mistreat me."

"The truth is not always painless, your highness," You said sternly. "And I do not wish to remain the victim of rumour." You lowered your hand. "It cannot be… good night, your highness. "

You bowed and spun on your heel so quickly you nearly slipped. You lifted your skirts to scurry between the bodies. Your flesh was afire as you fled into the corridor.

You took a breath and continued along the stone floor. You heard the door and looked back to the shadow that followed you. The king found you through the flicker of lanterns and turned to trail you. You rounded the corner as you picked up your feet.

"My lady," He called after you as his boots echoed on the stone. "Please, do not run from me."

You moved as quickly as you could, the motion jolted your shoulder painfully. He was close as you reached the next corner and he caught your hand before you could evade him. He drew you to face him as he looked down at you.

"Why do you spurn me? Why do you accuse me of spite when all I've shown you is kindness?" He pleaded. His grip slid to your wrist and he squeezed. "Why do you delay me if you do not yearn for what I promise you?"

"You're hurting me," You gasped as his hold grew firmer. "Your highness."

"I give and I give and I give," He stepped closer until you were against the wall. "And you withhold yourself from me."

"You scare me," You breathed.

"I promise you a union, a crown, and all you could desire and yet you reprimand me and let me suffer so," He was against you. He pressed his body to yours and you felt a hardness beneath his belt.

"And I have not pushed you. I have not violated you. I have waited." He ground his pelvis into you as he crushed your injured arm. "I have not taken you as I have dreamt. I have not come into your chambers as you sleep and taken what I desire."

He let go of your wrist and grabbed your chin. He forced you to look at him. "Because, my lady, I have decided that I will have you. Not just as my mistress, but as my wife, my queen. Because I don't just want that treasure you hide beneath those skirts," He bent so that his breath was upon your face."I want everything you have because you would deny me of the one thing I asked. "

You gaped up at him and trembled. You winced as his weight pushed on your sore shoulder. He leaned in until his nose touched yours.

"And though, at this moment, I could gather your skirts and take you against this wall, I will not," He pushed his hips harder against you. "Because when I do take you, I will be certain that you shall never elude me again."

He pressed his lips to yours as he held your jaw in place. You struggled as he seemed like to devour you. You were trapped against the stone; terrified and helpless. He pulled away slowly and rubbed along your cheek with his thumb.

"My lady, remember my benevolence for my restraint frays." He growled. "Though in the end, my desire will not."

#Steve Rogers #tapestry #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #series #au #Fic #medieval au #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

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arrow-guy · 4 years

Text

The Lighthouse (8/??)

Summary: The town is sleepy, the people are nice enough, but life gets turned upsidedown when the God of Thunder literally falls out of the sky.

A/N: I know it won’t be enough, but questions will be fully answered soon enough! But until I can get around to that, please have this! A couple of idiots and more Loki

Pairing: ThorxReader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

Part 7

“How did you know where he was?”

I shrug and grab the cereal from the cupboard. “I heard a voice that told me to get up and when to stop driving. Everything else was just a gut feeling.”

“Was it Heimdall?” Thor asks.

“No, he said as much last night. But he heard the voice too.”

Thor sets bowls on the table and moves to get spoons. “Did he feel the same pull?”

“I don’t think so.” I grab the milk and take a seat at the table. “He didn’t seem to feel any compulsion.”

“But he was much further away from Loki’s location than you were.” Thor sits and pours himself a bowl of cereal. “It would make sense that you were the one guided to Loki’s location.”

I laugh. “I don’t know if I’d say I was guided. It was more like being dragged along behind a horse. I didn’t know exactly what was going to happen until the end. Even then, it wasn’t exactly pretty.”

He hums. “You did scare me half to death.”

I nodded. “I know, and I really am sorry about that.”

“I know you are.” He shoots me a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to apologize anymore, (Y/N). I understand why you kept it from me.”

“I know. I just still feel bad about the whole thing.”

“I know.”

We eat in silence and I nearly doze off at one point, but Thor reaches across the table and takes my hand. I shake my head and squeeze his hand before going back to my cereal. Thor finishes before me and waits till I’m done before taking my bowl and doing the dishes.

“When do you think he’ll wake?” Thor muses.

“I’m not sure. It took him weeks to crash land, and even then he showed up weeks after I found you.” I shrug. “I’m not even sure he showed up in the same fashion as you did.”

“Oh?”

“Heimdall and I were talking about why he bounced around so much while we were looking for him. My guess is that, whatever it was that messed with your memories, might’ve knocked him off course when Heimdall sent him away.”

“What does Heimdall think?”

“Heimdall doesn’t really have much to go off either. Everyone that I’m in contact with is just as informed as I am, which is to say, we know jack shit about the situation right now. But, if this is anything like when I found you, then it might be a few days till he starts to wake up. I had you here two before you woke up, but I don’t know how long you were out in those woods before I found you.”

Thor nods. “Then we can only hope that he’ll wake soon.”

“Mhm.”

“Do you have any plans for the day?”

“Just working. New assignments have come in and we slept through most of the day, so I’m getting a late start.”

“Ah, sorry.”

“It’s no big deal, we both needed the rest.” I get up from the table and move across the room to kiss his cheek. “If you’ve got any ideas for dinner, let me know, okay?”

“Of course.” He smiles and gestures for me to go. “I’ll come get you for a break in a few hours.”

I grin and head for the stairs. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Thor quietly slips into my office and slits on the floor beside me. Daisy trails in shortly after and plops down beside him. She huffs when he doesn’t immediately scratch her ears.

“I take it you checked on Loki, then?” I ask, not looking away from my work.

“Yes.”

“Any updates?”

He shakes his head and rests his forehead on my thigh. He sighs when I comb my fingers through his hair. “Nothing so far.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He hasn’t even moved.” His shoulders slump and he leans a little more heavily against me. “It’s only been two days, but I can’t help being impatient.”

“I know. You’re worried about your brother. It’s only natural.”

“It’s strange, though,” he says. “He and I have always been at odds. We’ve fought countless times, but I’ve watched him die twice. I’ve had to mourn his loss twice. I’m not sure that I can go through that a third time.”

I push away from the desk slightly and take his face in my hands. “I’m sure that everything will be fine. He was out there for a long time, and we don’t know what kind of energy he expended.”

“Right.” He covers one of my hands with his. “I’m sure he just needs to rest.”

“He’s strong, Thor. I’m sure he’ll be up before we know it.”

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

“It’s nothing to thank me for.”

“You sell yourself so short,” he says softly. “I’ll make you recognize how wonderful you are one day.”

“Thor…”

He smiles. “But that won’t be today.” He hauls himself up from the floor. “I’ve distracted you for long enough, I’ll let you get back to work.”

“I’ll be done in half an hour. We can talk more then, if you want?”

He stoops down and kisses my forehead. “I’d like that.”

Thor pats his leg to get Daisy’s attention and gestures for her to follow him out of the room. She shoots me a tired look and I laugh as she trots out to the stairs after Thor. I do my best to finish with work, but it takes fifteen minutes longer than I initially expected. When I finally manage to make it downstairs, I collapse on the couch beside Thor.

“I had to talk them out of concussion induced pyrokinesis,” I mutter.

“I have no idea what that means,” Thor says.

I scrub my hands over my face and curl into his side. “Because it’s something that shouldn’t reasonably exist, even in fiction.”

He laughs. “Did you succeed?”

“Eventually. I just have to hope they don’t try to sneak it in somewhere else later on.”

“I’m sure you’ll prevail in the end.”

I shake my head. “I appreciate your optimism.”

He hums and kisses the top of my head. “We should talk.”

“I agree.”

“I don’t want to force anything on you,” he says. “We kissed two nights ago, but that doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“I think it should. After the time we’ve spent together and what we’ve been through, I know that it’s not just some schoolgirl crush. I actually like you. Especially when I get to think for myself about it.” His brow furrows. “Heimdall likes to meddle sometimes. But no one’s had to convince me that I like you.”

He smiles. “It looks like our roles have switched, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly does.” I take his hand. “But I meant what I said that night. My feelings for you are real. I’m not going to be shy about it, especially when I’m this comfortable with you.”

He sighs softly. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

I reach up and brush my fingers over his cheek. “You said I was wonderful earlier, but I don’t get how you can’t see how much light you put out into the world.”

“Maybe it’s just reflected back at me,” he offers.

“If that’s the case, then maybe I need to put you in front of a mirror. Reflect some of that energy directly back into you.” I push myself up from the couch and attempt to drag Thor up with me. “Come on. I’m hungry and I think we’ve still got stroganoff leftovers in the fridge.”

He laughs and allows himself to be led into the kitchen. “Do you always think with your stomach?”

“Not always, but you’re certainly one to talk!” Thor tries to look offended, but only succeeds in making himself laugh harder. “Your appetite is astounding.”

“I am a big man, (Y/N),” he says. “And beyond that, I am a god. Sometimes I need to eat more than a human does.”

“I know,” I dig around in the fridge for the leftovers. “I’m just poking a little fun.”

I glance back and find him leaning against the counter, arms folded, small smile playing at his lips. “I know you are.”

I pull the leftovers from the fridge. “You wanna try this the way my grandfather liked to eat it?”

Walking past Loki’s room a couple of days later, I heard a quiet shuffling. Thor hadn’t mentioned any kind of change in his brother when we talked earlier, so I open the door just a crack and peek inside.

Loki is sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes. I almost step into the room, but I stop myself short, realizing that he doesn’t know me. I don’t want him to panic and not have any way to calm him down.

Instead, I run out to the back yard to let Thor know that Loki is awake.

“What?” he yells back.

“He’s awake!” I holler. “Come inside, I’m gonna need your help!”

He calls out his confirmation and I head back inside. I grab a glass of water for Loki before I go back upstairs and very, very slowly open the door.

He sits with his head in his hands, and I can’t tell if he’s heard me come in. I gently knock on the door to get his attention and his head jerks up at the sound. I wave and step into the room.

“It’s good to see you awake,” I say. “We were starting to think you’d be out forever.”

“What?”

“We found you almost five days ago.” I cross the room to hand him the glass of water. “You didn’t even move until today, I don’t think.”

“Who is ‘we’?” he asks.

“It’s just Thor and I.”

“Thor?” He perks up slightly.

“Yeah, he should be here soon.”

“Where is he?” He shoots up from the bed and I stumble back when he reaches out for me. “Tell me, woman!”

I drop the water and throw my hands up to shield myself. Loki never makes contact, and it takes a moment for me to realize that there’s a semi-visible barrier between us. I stare at my hands, surprised.

“Where is my Brother!” Loki yells.

He pounds against the shield and I stumble over my own feet and fall to the floor. The shield flickers briefly, but I manage to hold it steady. This only serves to further infuriate him and I cringe each time he slams his fists against the shield.

“Heimdall, what do I do?!”

“Hold the shield and wait for Thor.”

“That’s it?!”

“What is it that you expect me to do, (Y/N)?”

“I don’t know, I’m freaking out, here!” I yell for Thor, and hope that he can hear me. “Stop punching the shield, you’re just gonna wind up hurting yourself!”

“Drop the shield, and I’ll show you just what the meaning of hurt is,” Loki hisses.

“You know what, I don’t really like the sound of that.”

He pushes harder, and I can feel the shield straining under my hold. I can faintly hear Thor’s heavy footsteps in the stairwell, and I push all that I can into maintaining the shield. Just as cracks start to spiderweb across the surface,Thor steps into the room. Loki sees him and stops his assault against my magic, relaxing enough that I can let the shield go. I lie back on the floor, one arm flung over my face, taking deep heaving breaths.

“(Y/N), are you alright?” Thor asks.

I nod and point at Loki. “Put him in a bubble till you could get here.”

“You put him in a bubble?!”

“He moved faster than I expected. It was the first thing that popped into my head.”

“Why are you on the floor?”

“He punched the shield and startled me.”

I hear him shift towards his brother. “You tried to attack her?!”

“You say that as if I’m supposed to know who she is or where I am.”

“You shouldn’t have to know someone to know not to attack them.” Thor crouches down beside me and helps me sit up. “I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

“It’s fine, he doesn’t know where he is.” I feel Loki’s eyes on me and I glance up at him. “What?”

Loki snorts and turns his attention to Thor. “Really, brother? Another human?”

“Excuse me? You’re in my house, in my bed. If it weren’t for this human, you’d probably be choking on sand right about now.”

Loki’s brows pull together and he looks to his brother for confirmation. Thor just nods.

He looks at me with an almost pained expression. “Well then. I apologize.”

“Good.”

He nods and immediately frowns when his hand makes contact with his chest. He pinches the fabric between his fingers and pulls it away from his body.

“What in Odin’s name am I wearing?”

“My clothes,” Thor says.

“Your clothes?”

I lift my hand. “I made them smaller. They’re clean, I promise.”

“You?”

“Yeah, the magic was relatively easy compared to what I was doing to track you down.”

He blinks rapidly, looking genuinely surprised. “And how did you learn this magic?”

“It’s a bit convoluted,” I explain. “Heimdall did what he could to help, but I essentially just had to force the magic to do what I wanted.”

"And you've been privy to this training with Heimdall, have you, brother?"

"As much as I can be," Thor says. "I've only been able to speak with Heimdall once since I arrived, and it's solely because (Y/N) acted as a bridge."

Loki scowls, unsatisfied with the answer. "Explain. Now."

Thor obliges and explains everything. I occasionally interject, filling in anything that Thor misses.

“Why would you spend all that energy on finding me, though?”

“(Y/N) believes that you may hold the key to understanding what happened to us,” Thor says. “Our memories were tampered with, and you’re the only person I can think of who wasn’t accounted for.”

“I see...” Loki stroked his chin. “And you truly remember nothing?”

“Have I any reason to lie to you, brother?”

“Of course not.”

“Do you remember anything?” I ask.

“Everything, actually.”

“I-really?”

“Yes. I believe that I can restore Thor’s memories as well, but it won’t be pleasant.”

“Do it,” Thor says. “I need to know what happened.”

“Hold on a moment,” I say. “How do we know you won’t just make things worse?”

“Why would I do that? He’s dumb enough as is. If anything, this would be an improvement.” I glare at him and he lifts his hands in surrender. “I don’t want to make things worse. Just to share the knowledge.”

“Fine.”

Loki shuffles closer to Thor and places his hands on either side of his face. Only when Thor nods does he close his eyes. The familiar hum of magic fills the room, but it's different from when I cast. The sound is concentrated near Loki's hands, and I can only assume that it's because he's far more skilled than I am that the sound doesn't fill the entire room.

The magic courses through Thor's body and I nearly lurch forward when his spine goes rigid. I stop myself halfway when I realize that whatever Loki's doing to restore his memories will most likely drain him of whatever energy he previously had. I sit back and fold my hands in my lap and force myself to just sit and watch. I have to remind myself to stay put when Thor begins to make small pained noises. He wanted to go through with it, and interrupting the spell could be dangerous.

Loki's eyes snap open with a flash of green light before his hands fall away from Thor's face. Thor's shoulders relax momentarily as he slowly remembers where he is, and he recoils and scrambles away from his brother. My first instinct is to move to help him, but when I reach out to him and he flinches away from my touch, I start to worry.

"He's in shock," Loki says. "Barely anything that he saw was happy. In spite of how optimistic he is most of the time, he’s experienced many hardships, as of late."

"Tell me what happened on that ship." He hesitates and I frown. "How am I supposed to help if I don't know what happened?"

"You truly want to help?"

"Of course I do."

"You know what we are. Do you understand the dangers that follow us?"

"I'm well aware of the trouble you get yourselves into."

"I see." He sighs and shifts uncomfortably on the carpet. "I'll tell you what happened, then."

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

Part 9

Okay, concrete answers next chapter, I promise. But hey! Loki’s back and he’s actually awake this time, so that’s progress!

As always, if you liked this chapter, please let me know! LIke, reblog, comment, or shoot me an ask and tell me all about that shit, because I always wanna know what you guys are thinking!

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapter, please let me know!

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@ghostlyhamlet, @claws-of-vibranium, @creaturefeatures101, @buckysendoftheline, @imagine-assembling-the-avengers, @ptprocrastination, @1950schick, @amayasymone23, @arfrona-and-marvel, @ek823, @fanaticfangirl001, @furrywerewolfcollector, @kissofvenom922, @dawn-phantomhive, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @mairhof1, @starryeyesbadguys, @trap-house-homiecide, @buckywhitewolfbarnes, @kaepm981, @howdoesoneadult, @pcdmesamidala, @thefandomplace, @sian22redux, @skeletoresinthebasement, @lady-thor-foster, @jazzcutie, @gaytonystark, @geeksareunique, @nyxveracity, @breezy1415, @feelmyroarrrr, @darling-loki, @lemonadeorange73, @princess-unicorn124, @hermionie-is-my-queen, @tofeartheunknown, @queenoftheunderdark, @avengerscompound

This fic:

@chelzwwefan, @claire-of-the-country, @sunflowers-and-swear-words, @heystucky, @annathewitch, @thebdelliumlady, @myfuturisticallysteadycollector, @inumorph, @slitherysneke, @bojabee, @givemethatgold, @shynara51, @lokis-high-priestess/ @bluestaratsunrise

#thor odinsonxreader #readerxthor odinson #thor odinson x reader #reader x thor odinson #thorxreader #readerxthor #thor x reader #reader x thor #thor odinson #thor #the golden boi #reader insert marvel fic

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noladyme · 4 years

Text

Chess. Chapter 13

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

TW: Language, sexual themes, violence, torture. Rated M

(This story is obviously non-canon, i.e. Diablo and GQ, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.)

————————–

Let me start this off with a disclaimer: This chapter does not have Rick appearing. He will be back, but due to length and flow I needed to cut off the chapter where I did. Sorry. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it anyway

————————–

I was lounging on a love seat in the large house the Joker had taken us to; pretending to read a magazine Harley had offered me.

Frost had shown up at the house about 30 minutes after us, with a bump on his head, and a sneer plastered across his face. He insisted that the squad were gone by the time he came too.

The house was just as ghastly as the car had been; with bear skin rugs and clashing patterns on all the furniture. There was no doubt that 99% of it was stolen.

Playing a weird game of tag, Harley and the Joker were chasing each other throughout the house; squealing and growling at each other, each time one of them managed to catch the opponent.

I was thinking something fiercely.

I’d followed Harley and her psycho boyfriend into the Palisades, without any idea of what my next move should be.

Throwing herself into the seat next to me, Harley was laughing; out of breath.

“J is getting me a new puppy”, she giggled. “Those stupid animal rights activists took back my last one, when I was sent back to Louisiana”.

“What’s the plan here, Harley”, I asked.

“I dunno. It’s your turn to think of something”, she answered trustingly.

I sighed.

“I need to make sure Kelper doesn’t make it to congress”, I said.

“Revenge?”, she asked.

“No”, I answered. “There are enough shitheads in office as it is – look at the main guy in charge! We don’t need another one”. I crossed my arms. “Also a little bit of revenge, yeah”, I admitted.

“Yeah that judge does seem like a dick”, Harley muttered.

“No”, I said. “This is about Waller. She has enough power as it is. She doesn’t need to be able to keep hunting people like us down, and force us to do things we don’t want to. Even if we are bad guys”.

She grabbed my face between her hands.

“I’m with you”, she said, and kissed my forehead with a loud smack. “Tell me what to do!”.

I beamed at her. She was a good friend. Even if she was bat shit crazy.

“I need to be able to prove the connection between mr. J and Kelper”, I said; and looked down at my feet. “That does mean, that J won’t be able to use him for protection from the cops anymore”.

Harley was biting her lip.

“Huh”, she said. “He ain’t gonna like that”.

“I know”, I replied. “But we need him to”.

“Harley!”, the Joker called from somewhere. “Come out, come out wherever you are!”.

Harley sighed, then looked into my eyes, and nodded.

“Marco!”, Joker called from the kitchen.

“Polo!”, Harley answered, still looking at me; then grinned, and sprang from the couch to hide from the clown.

—

“Chess has a live bomb in her bag”, Harley said conversationally during breakfast.

I instantly froze; mouth agape – prepared to feel my throat being slit at any moment.

“Oh?”, the Joker said, gazing up from over the newspaper he’d been reading – well, not so much newspaper as comic book. “That’s nice, dear”. He looked back down.

Harley – curlers in her hair, and wearing a pink fluffy bathrobe – continued.

“Yup. It’s a pretty nasty one too”. She returned to her marshmallow cereal.

Joker put down his comic book and looked at her.

“Is there something you’d like to say, toots? Something I need to know?”.

I was shaking in my seat; and I gently put down the golden rimmed porcelain cup of coffee in my hand.

“Uhm, Harley. I don’t think this is the time…”.

“Please, Chess”, Joker said to me, lowering his old-fashioned reading glasses. “In this house everyone can say whatever they want, whenever they want. We mustn’t stifle others expressions”.

I nodded fiercely.

“A-absolutely, yes. Of course. I’m sorry”, I stammered.

He quickly reached across the table, and grabbed my hand, putting it between his own.

“I could tell you meant that”, he grinned.

Letting go of my hand, he turned to face Harley again.

“Now where were we, doll? Chess has a bomb in her bag?”, he said calmly.

Harley swallowed some of her orange juice.

“Yeah. It’s a black box, with a little display on it. Pre-set to 1 minute”.

“That sounds fun”, Joker said cheerfully. “What’s it for?”.

Harley got up from her seat, and went to stand behind her beloved madman; massaging his shoulders and neck, making him close his eyes and groan in pleasure. She slid her hands down his shoulders under the flowered kimono he was wearing.

“You know that mean lady, who’s been putting me in that bad place?”. Joker grunted in response. “Well those friends in high places Jerry was moaning about? That’s her”.

The Joker opened his eyes, and looked over his shoulder at her.

“Kelper’s friends with the witch?”, he asked.

Harley went to sit on his lap, and laced her fingers behind his neck.

“No, not the witch; the bitch. The witch is dead”, she said.

“Right, right”, Joker answered. “So?”.

“Well”, Harley continued, “the bitch gave Chess the bomb to blow you up; so you’d stop asking Kelper for favors”.

The clown looked at me, brows – or lack thereof – furrowing.

“You were going to blow me up?”.

I jumped in my seat.

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. Once I knew who you were…”. Harley interrupted me.

“Puddin’, Chess would never do anything like that. We were coming to tell you about the bomb; but then that stupid judge was there, and Chess got all upset, because she really hates his guts”. She kissed his forehead. “We plain old forgot!”.

Joker groaned.

“I spent a lot of money on Kelper. We had a lot of parties”.

“A lot of parties”, Harley nodded, backing him up. “So, maybe… we should do something about it”.

“Oh, snuggle-tits. I need the judge for my business”, Joker said, and looked adoringly at her.

My heartbeat was calming down, and I could think more clearly. I took a small sip of my coffee.

“Mr. J”, I began. “You probably know that I used to work for the Hatter”.

The Joker guffawed and snarled all at once.

“That idiot”.

“Yeah, well”, I continued, “I could work for you, like I did for him. Getting you information, money…”.

“I have money”, he interrupted.

“A new Lamborghini?”, I tried.

His eyes lit up.

“I’m listening”.

I sat up straight. Here we go.

“Kelper is pulling out of your arrangement. He’s even gone so far as getting someone to try to kill you”.

“Well that happens at least once a week”, he said, and shook his head. Harley stroked her fingers through his green hair.

“There’s that girl”, she said, and looked at me.

“What girl?”, Joker asked.

“Well”, Harley continued, “Kelper did some pretty nasty things to a girl who used to work at that place… what was it called?”.

“Sammy’s”, I answered. “It’s a burlesque club in the Narrows”.

I casually took another sip of my coffee, that at this point had gone cold. My face contorted from the taste.

Joker looked at me with narrowed eyes.

I continued.

“About a year and a half ago, Kelper raped and beat an 18 year old girl that worked there”, I said. “She’s still suffering from the attack”.

He patted Harleys thigh to get her to get of his lap.

“Jonny!”, he called, getting to his feet himself.

Frost came into the dining room.

“Yeah, boss?”.

“We own the Narrows, don’t we?”, he asked, and walked slowly towards his minion.

“Yeah, for about 2 years now”, Frost answered, not meeting his eyes.

“And do you know about a bar named Sally’s?”.

“Sammy’s, yeah it’s a stripjoint”, Frost said.

“Burlesque club”, Harley whispered into Jokers ear.

“Burlesque club, Jonny”, Joker said, and grabbed the back of Frosts head. “There is a big difference”. Patting Frosts cheek, he went to sit down again.

“So Sammy’s have been paying their dues, have they not?”.

“Never missed a pay-date”, Frost retorted.

Joker – now sitting down – slammed both his fists into the table, making us all jump.

“Then would you mind telling me, why one of the young ladies working there, was attacked and raped; while she was supposed to be under our protection?”, he yelled; his slicked back hair now disheveled, and falling into his face.

“This doesn’t look good, Jonny! This makes me look bad!”, he shouted.

“I know, boss”, Frost tried. “But it was Kelper, and you told us to stay clear of him”.

Joker jumped out of his chair, and threw it at Frost; only narrowly missing the man.

“Get out. Find Kelper. Bring him to me!”, he growled. “And get Chess new hot cup of coffee. That cold stuff is a disgrace”.

Frost rushed a fresh cup of coffee to me, and ran out the door; already on his phone, yelling at someone.

The Joker found a new chair, and pulled it up to his place at the table. He smoothed his hair back down, and exhaled.

Harley went to stand behind him, and put a hand on his shoulder.

He grabbed my hand like he had before, and looked at me seriously.

“Now”, he said. “Chess. Chessie. My dear. Thank you for making me aware of this problem in my organization. Am I also to understand that you were the one to punish Jer-Jer after his misdeed with the young woman?”.

I smiled brightly, doing my best to seem cheerful.

“That was me, alright!”.

Joker grined.

“Well, when you think about it, you did our job for us!”, he smiled widely. “So I owe you. You came in to this house a stranger; but now – you’re family”.

Harley squealed, and jumped up and down, clapping her hands.

Great. I wasn’t only the clowns newest pet and employee; I was apparently family.

Shit.

“I still want that Lamborghini”, Joker finished, and went to get dressed.

—

We drove to a building not far from the one we had been at the night before.

“Puddin’ you know this means you can’t work with Kelper no more, right?”, Harley said, as we were getting out of the car.

“Yes, yes, squishy-butt, I know”, he answered. “This is going to be fun!”, he snickered, and put his arm around her waist.

I followed them into the building, and down into a basement. In the middle of the dark room sat Kelper, handcuffed to a chair. A single lightbulb was lit above him.

Masked henchmen were spread around the room, covering the exits.

“Jerry!”, Joker said, arms spread into the air as we entered. “Thank you so much for being able to reschedule our meeting. I’m so, so happy you agreed to this location”.

The judge was gagged, had a black eye, and there was already a wet stain under the chair from where he had urinated his pants.

Harley jumped onto a table near the scene, and crossing her legs; she began to file her nails.

I stayed in the shadows; out of Kelpers line of sight.

The clown went to stand in front of his victim, putting a hand on each of his knees, coming down to eyelevel with him. He wrinkled his nose.

“Jer-Jer. Were you that excited to see me?”, he asked. He removed Kelpers mouth gag.

“P-please; Mr. Joker. I don’t know what this is about!”, he stammered.

“This, my friend”, Joker said, “is about your plans for your political future!”.

Frost appeared from the shadows with a chair, that Joker pulled up in front of Kelper. He sat down.

“It’s recently come to my attention that you’ve decided to run for congress”.

“Yes, mr. Joker. I was the one that told you about it myself”, Kelper said.

Joker smacked him across the face, and then pointed a finger at him.

“It’s rude to interrupt!”, he roared.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry”, Kelper said.

Joker smiled.

“I take a great interest in politics, as you know. I’m even the governor of my own little corner of Gotham. And I find it’s very important to make sure that the people I govern feel safe”.

Kelper nodded.

“Good! So you know where I’m coming from”, the clown continued. “Then I come to hear that someone decided to cause problems in my little paradise. Apparently, a very silly man decided to pay a visit to a burlesque club, and play a little too roughly with one of the lovely dancers there”.

I saw Kelpers eyes widen in fear.

“I didn’t know that would be an issue for you, I swear!”.

The Joker patted his cheek gently.

“Well it is”, he half whispered.

Jumping from the chair, he ran to sit down next to Harley.

“Hi, sugar lips”, he said; and put his arm around her, before calling out.

“Chess!”.

I stepped out of the shadows, and pulled down my hood. Kelper looked at me, recognizing me from the meeting the day before.

“Miss, I don’t know what he’s paying you, but I’ll match and double it!”, he tried desperately.

I sat down in front of him.

“You smell like piss”, I said. He gulped. I sighed. “So this is not going to be fun for you. At all”.

His facial expression changed.

“Do your best, bitch. I’ve been through worse!”.

“Oh?”, I asked. The judge was about to spit in my face, but didn’t have the chance to do so, before I headbutted him.

I rubbed my forehead. That hurt, I thought, but cheered up, when I saw that I had obviously broken his nose.

Joker and Harley roared with laughter from the table.

“So, you’ve had it worse, huh?”, I asked.

He ground his teeth, and nodded.

I smiled and slowly began disappearing into a mist.

Kelpers facial expression immediately changed from prideful to pure fear. He began jumping in the chair, screaming; and managed to fall over; landing in his own wet pool.

“Ew”, Harley said from next to a gleeful Joker.

“Sshh, Harls’. I’m watching this”, he said.

Frost pulled Kelper back into a seated position.

“Get the camera”, I said to him, reappearing in my seat.

I clenched my fist, letting my claws come out.

“I heard you’re going to have some reconstructive surgery, your honor”, I said, looking down at my claws. “Jonny here could find me a pair of rocks, and I could do the deed for you. It’s only polite, seeing as I’m the one to blame for your whole ordeal in the first place…”.

Kelper began crying.

“No, no. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. I will!”, he sobbed.

Frost came in to the light, two plum-sized rocks in one hand, and a smartphone in the other. I took the items into my hands.

“Ok. Now, you can chose one of these gifts; and I won’t take no for an answer!”, I beamed. “Either you chose to let me help you make a nice little video, where you tell the world about your rape and beating of that young woman 18 months ago – along with an account of your dealings with criminal organizations in Gotham. That will make your family really proud of you, and you’ll instantly feel better about your misdeeds. Or…”.

I showed him the two rocks.

“… you let me help you by filling that empty sack of yours”.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joker and Harley both leaning in to hear his answer.

Kelper sobbed, and a bloody glob of snot ran out of his broken nose.

“The video. I’ll do the video”.

“Boring”, Joker snarled quietly, and Harley patted his leg soothingly.

I pulled out the phone.

“Don’t worry Jerry. This will be over in no time”. I started filming. “Action”.

Kelper opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“Look into the camera. Say your name”, I whispered.

He looked into the lens, and began.

“My name is Jeremiah Kelper. I am a judge in Gotham city”. He paused, and I kicked his shin.

“And”, he yelped, “18 months ago, I raped and beat a young woman I was giving a ride home in my limousine”. He sobbed. “I then… let two of my friends rape her, while I watched”.

I was struggling not to run my claws through his heart.

“Continue”, I hissed. Kelper did as asked.

“I have also been receiving payoffs from the crime lord known as the Joker”.

“That’s me!”, the Joker said, and jumped into frame; giving Kelper a wet kiss on the cheek. “We’ve been the best of friends, for a long, long time”, he said, and patted Kelpers shoulder.

“Isn’t this enough?”, Kelper cried.

“Apologise!”, I growled.

“Yes!”, Joker exclaimed. “And tell them that you’ve been a bad, bad boy. Say; I’m Jerry, and I’m a bad, bad boy!”.

Kelper sobbed again.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve abused my office, and I’ve hurt a young woman who didn’t deserve it”.

“No one deserves what you did to her!”, I snarled.

“No, no one deserves that”, he admitted.

“Bad boy!”, Harley yelled from her table, making Kelper jump in his seat.

“I’m Jerry, and I’m a bad, bad boy”, he finished.

“Cut! Scene! Print!”, Joker called, and gave the judge a hard slap on the back. “Good job, Jer-jer! This is one for the books!”.

I put the phone in the bag with the bomb I was still carrying. It was over.

—

A loud crash was heard. While we had been filming, the room had been almost cleared of Jokers minions, as they’d disappeared into the shadows.

The lights went out, and I felt a gush of wind over my head.

“No!”, Joker shouted.

A hard punch to my shoulder made me fall to the floor, and I dropped the bag, accidentally kicked it; and watched it slide into the darkness somewhere.

Panicking, I scrambled to find it, my shoulder pulsing with pain.

A gunshot was heard, followed by the sound of Harleys shriek, as she was thrown across the floor.

I got on my feet, and ran in the direction of where I thought the bag might be.

Someone grabbed my arm, holding me in place.

“Leave it”, a gravelly voice said. “Keep your head down”.

Shit…

Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r

@hyp-oh-critical

#rick flag #rick flag x reader #suicide squad fic #suicide squad imagine #harley quinn #the joker

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fandom-collective-writers · 4 years

Text

The Woes of Winning (Gavin x MC)

Fandom: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Gavin x MC

Word Count: 1,521

Warning: NSFW Smut

Requested by: Anonymous

Written by: @voltage-vixen

“Boss, everything turned out great!” Willow praised, filling up the coolers with another round of drinks.

“Thanks to everyone pitching in,” MC responded, before sending the younger woman on her way to assist Anna.

The small production company was celebrating the success of their most recent commercial and were partaking in festivities at one of the nearby beaches. Invitations had been extended to friends and family of the staff, and everyone was immersed in the lively atmosphere of the jovial gathering. MC was helping serve the guests their food, and Gavin being the kind soul he was offered to man the grill.

“Please don’t hesitate to inform me if you need anything else,” MC reminded the crowd, as she cleared away the tables.

Pausing to wipe away the sweat trickling from her brow, MC stole a glance to admire the way the sweltering heat left Gavin illuminating in perspiration. The fabric of his damp shirt clung to his form, accentuating the cuts of his muscular upper body. Gavin noticed her staring and granted her a small wave while giving the grill a final wipe down. He placed the tongs down, and casually acknowledged MC’s coworkers as he made his way over to join MC.

“Hi,” MC greeted Gavin, blushing as he threw his arm around her shoulder.

“Hi yourself,” Gavin responded, tucking the producer’s slicked bangs behind her ear. “Man, it’s pretty hot out here today.”

“It is hot out here!” Minor suddenly interjected, stumbling over to the couple. “I propose we finally put those water balloons to good use and have ourselves a good old-fashioned smack down!”

Perhaps it was a combination of the scorching humidity and the strength of the alcohol consumed, but Minor reiterated his desire by holding up the large bucket stocked with the loaded balloons and breaking into an obnoxious fit of giggles. Sighing in dejection, MC massaged her temples preparing to lecture her former classmate.

“Minor, those water balloons are for the chil-GAVIN!”

Taking advantage of MC’s occupied state of mind, Gavin had snatched one of the balloons and purposely dropped it down onto her foot without any warning. Soon the noise from the commotion drew others in, and joyful laughs could be heard around the beach’s vicinity. MC reached for one of the balloons to counterattack against Gavin, but her efforts fell in vain when he took off running.

“You’re not getting away this time, Gavin!”

MC launched a water balloon into the air, her pupils widened in a hopeful anticipation that for once she would finally gain the upper hand on the adept police captain. Her moment of joy was short lived however when Gavin effortlessly dodged the attack at the last second.

“Nice one, bro! You’re going to have to do better than that if you even think you have a shot of hitting Gavin, MC!” Minor cheered, before Kiki pelted a balloon of her own that struck him square in the face.

“Admit defeat, and I promise to not embarrass you anymore in front of the group,” Gavin warned, his lips curling up into a playful smile, ignoring the groaning Minor rolling around on the sand.

“Fine, you win,” MC pouted. At least that’s what she wanted Gavin to believe, as she leisurely shuffled over to her boyfriend with a water balloon hidden behind her back. “Truce?”

Attempting to distract Gavin by sticking her pinky out, MC yelped when he swiftly grasped onto her wrist.

“Pretty sly of you to try and pull a fast one on me,” Gavin confronted, the slits of his eyes narrowing. “As an officer of the law, I have an obligation to punish you.”

SPLASH

The balloon that MC had been holding in her hand fell out of her hand and to the ground, standing in shock as she fell victim to Gavin’s own water balloon invasion he inflicted upon his unsuspecting partner. Drenched from the water, MC’s clothing hugged the curves of her chest. Glancing down, MC gasped and covered herself when she realized the outline of her bra was visible under the anew translucent blouse.

“Don’t move.”

Paralyzed by Gavin’s authoritative command, MC adhered his order and obliged as he hoisted her up into his arms. Cradling her protectively against his chest, Gavin stormed down the beach into the direction of the changing stalls. The chill of the onset evening breeze brushed against her misty skin snapped her mind back into reality where she glimpsed around the beach at the party still ongoing.

“Gavin, please wait! I need to make sure that-.”

“No, you don’t.”

MC’s head snapped in the direction of the voice that interrupted her, and discovered Anna was standing nearby smirking meaningfully. Anna’s eyebrows creased and her arms were crossed, while Willow did her best to stifle giggles.

“We can handle everything from here, MC,” Anna called out in assurance. “Take good care of our girl, Gavin!”

Gavin’s cheeks flushed with a tint of pink, but nonetheless persisted until they arrived at the changing unit. Surveying the area to ensure they were alone, Gavin threw back the curtain of the nearest changing stall, and quickly forced his way inside with MC.

“Gavin, what the-….”

MC’s breath was instantly taken away as Gavin’s lips passionately claimed her own. His one hand fumbled around with the buttons on the front of her soaked blouse, while the other entangled in the fine layers of her curly hair. Her knees buckled against Gavin when his teeth nibbled down the side of her neck, and a sensuous purr escaped when he finally ripped the shirt from her body.

“I’m sorry I can’t help myself. I wanted to win, but the thought of others witnessing you in this state was too much for me to bear,” Gavin huffed, his fingers reaching down into MC’s skirt to caress her bud before slipping a finger past her velvety folds into her core. “Looks like your shirt isn’t the only thing that’s wet today.”

“Gavin, don’t stop,” MC whimpered, bucking her hips downwards to better ride his finger. “No more teasing. You won the showdown fair and square, meaning it’s time for you claim your prize already!”

Gavin didn’t need to be told twice to help MC shimmy out of the remainder of her clothing. The garments slid to the floor and pooled around her ankles. Her tongue ran along the curve of her lips in a blissful admiration of Gavin stroking the length of his member, before pushing her back up against the wall of the stall they were in.

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” the officer ordered, and grunted when she willingly obliged, giving his hair on the back of his head a flirtatious tug for good measure.

“Your body is about to pay for that,” Gavin murmured in retortion, flashing her a devious warning smile.

He slipped his arm under MC’s thigh to support her, pressed his erection deep into her opening, and relished in the beautiful sounds of her gratifying hissing when her walls spanned to accommodate him. Gavin slapped the mound of her ass, and then tightened his grip around her waist, bracing to intensify the rhyme of his thrusting.

“So wet and tight for me. God, how good you feel should be illegal.”

Gavin slammed his hips eliciting a carnal cry from MC as she feverishly clawed his back, grinding against him out of a desperation to relieve the pressure in her lower belly. Her eyes pleaded with Gavin, but she whimpered when his thumb instead pressed against the bend of her lips.

“Shh! Keep your voice down. I would hate to have to issue you a noise complaint, miss naughty,” he instructed. “And I don’t want anyone else hearing these adorable sounds you’re making for me.”

“Gavin,” she moaned as he leaned over to place soft kisses on her breasts, sucking hard when his tongue found her nipple.

“Come for me now, MC.”

MC squirmed when his fingers rubbed against her swollen clit and triumphantly arched her head back when her walls began to quiver. Gavin’s hand was madly fondling her nub, giving MC the final push to achieve her rewarding sensation.

“Gavin,” she panted, eyes glazed over and body pulsating waves of ecstasy of their secret tryst on the beach. “I-I love you.”

Still fully encompassed within MC, Gavin lovingly nuzzled his forehead against her own.

“I love you too,” Gavin whispered.

MC’s long eyelashes batted serene butterfly kisses down Gavin’s face, and she brushed her nose against his. Gavin leaned in for a kiss that shortly intensified into a lavish make out session. The couple groaned in unison when Gavin’s erection expanded and grew harder inside of MC. Both exchanged a knowing glance and braced themselves for what was about to become a wild second round of lovemaking.

“Remind me to thank Minor later,” Gavin chuckled, before rousing his hips to shift upwards again.

Falling back into sync with their previous rhythm, Gavin and MC tuned out the rest of the busy world and spent the remainder of the hot summer evening heating things up even further.

#mlqc #mr. love queen's choice #mlqc gavin #mlqc bai qi #mlqc smut #mlqc fanfic #love and producer #evol and love

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sourbat · 4 years

Note

General, 9 for butter knife? 🥺

“Are they Dead?”

Summary: Charles surprises Magnus with dinner and a show. Guest starring Trindle and Melmord.

Warning: imprisonment; implied Stockholm Syndrome

It was late in the evening when, after another day filled with repetitious meandering in his cell, two hoods surprised Magnus with their unannounced presence. They gave no clues as to where they were taking Magnus, only wheeled him through the unseen, narrow corridors, and warned him when they were about to turn so he could bring his legs close. There was little point in asking any questions; the gears never shared what was in store for Magnus, and it wasn’t like he could flee once unstrapped from the wheelchair if they bothered to provide any unsavory news.

They wheeled him into what he assumed was a security room of some kind. It was the interior of a dark, massive shaft (perhaps the neck?) that stretched several levels high. Magnus rode up the elevator, gears at his side, trying to make some meaning of the red, eerie flashes caught between the levels: brief glimpses of klokateers heavily armed, others in front of computer monitors, a couple carting massive loads of what hopefully wasn’t bodies.

Charles greeted him at the topmost level, offering a silent nod the moment the sliding doors parted. One look around the large, blood-red dome had Magnus screaming “central hub.” The room was lined with screens, cameras and flashing lights, and klokateers attentively typing and clicking away at whatever task assigned to them. Magnus desired nothing more than to comment on Charles’ profuse megalomania, but as he was carted forward, caught the smell of something heavenly in the air that had his mouth filling with saliva.

Charles approached, passing Magnus’ left and briefly vanishing from existence, save for the sounds of his heels hitting the floor. “I hope he wasn’t any trouble. Take him to the table, then lock the wheels. I’ll take it from there.”

“Of course, Master Offdensen.”

The source of the delicious scents took the form of a small, clothed table set in front of a gigantic monitor. Adorning it was a set of finely polished silverware, napkins and crystal wine glasses. Magnus allowed his stare to linger on the knife resting beside a fork. A klokateer set Magnus on the side opposite to a single, empty chair. While the first gear locked his wheels into place, the second lifted a silver cover, unveiling a plate of the nicest looking steak Magnus had ever laid eyes on, with butter still melting and oozing all over the steaming center.

“What’s the occasion?”

“A celebration,” Charles answered plainly, taking his seat and giving the second gear permission to remove the cover to his meal. He returned, brows lifting slightly when met with Magnus’ befuddlement. “You don’t know?”

Magnus wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. Charles, his only source of information, the well of knowledge from which he refused to drink from. Not that it mattered. Thirsty or not, Charles would eventually supply him with a drop of the bucket, even if it meant forcing it down Magnus’ unwilling throat. Toki’s lapse in therapy, Miss Remeltindtdrinc’s continued success, news of Magnus’ past altercations with annoying hoods, a physician’s request for a change of prescription, or a paltry report detailing unveiled portions of an unfair prophecy.

He stared nervously at the delectable meal resting before him. The decadent smell of garlic mashed potatoes covered in scallions, and the pop of a klokateer freeing the cork from a bottle of dark red wine, alerted him that the information to be revealed could be drastic, potentially life-ending.

He grinned. “Refresh me.”

Charles took a napkin, placing it over his leg. “I’ve checked this month’s reports,” he said, grabbing a knife and fork. “You’ve been taking your vitamins. You, ah, also gained seven pounds.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “Wonderful. Weight I cannot easily shave off.”

“You’re still under by twelve, but with some work, will be at a healthy weight.” Charles cut into the steak. It bled and oily, reddish bubbly broth that stewed near the roasted vegetables.

Magnus’s hand drifted over his silverware, unsure to take the knife. “And this warrants a steak?”

Since being locked in Mordhaus, the daily meals sent to his room, while a far cry from the fast food he used to sustain himself with, wasn’t nearly as rich in smell and appearance as the meal before him. Magnus picked up the knife. Charles continued to cut his, sawing a small piece of meat which he jabbed and picked up with his fork. Hesitantly, Magnus did the same. As far as he could tell, no gears had their weapons aimed at him, but he still gingerly brought the blade down in case someone trigger-happy hood mistook his hunger as a desperate try for revenge against Charles.

Charles swallowed. “No, your compliance.”

Magnus had made it as far as cutting himself a tasty morsel when the word smacked him across the face.

“It’s been several long, grueling months.” Charles shoveled a lump of creamy, golden mashed potatoes with his fork.

Grueling didn’t accurately cover the anguish Magnus endured since falling victim to Charles’ whims. Being locked in a tiny room, deprived of fresh air sunlight unless he behaved, performed simple tasks upon being handed the instruction, or forced to tolerate Charles’ presence and spend his days alongside him, working together and transcribing old English to unveil more hints of the incoming apocalypse. If he snapped at too many klokateers, refused a meal, medication, vitamins or Charles, then he was ignored, left without any means of entertainment other than the memories that persisted to haunt and fill Magnus’ nights with dread. He spent days alone with no books to read, puzzles to complete, pen or paper to bide through the long, endless hours. Not a person to acknowledge him, nor clock on the wall or light switch to help give a sense of time, no matter how false.

A few rounds of absolute, agonizing silence were all it took for Magnus to determine fighting Charles simply wasn’t worth the trouble. Magnus could handle manipulation, a fist to the face and a threat to his life, but Charles was hitting him where it hurt most, and Magnus couldn’t bear another reminder of his nonexistence, and not from the man he once loved so dearly. A man who, despite the cruelty, still cared for him. As difficult as it was to comprehend, Charles never laid a finger on Magnus, physically harmed or dared to take advantage of his current physical limitations, restricting all forms of punishment to just mental and emotional. And when the punishment finally ended, Charles always reintroduced Magnus to his bookshelves, television and access to the yard. He apologized when giving a punishment, explained his line of reasoning, and was quick to provide condolences when it was over, hands always reaching, hovering or ghosting over Magnus’ gaunt form, but never making contact unless given explicit permission. True, it could be just as well that Charles was enacting his own divine punishment, proving to Magnus that he didn’t need to harm him to make him bend, but since living within the harsh, deprecating confines of Mordhaus, Magnus wanted to believe this wasn’t the case.

Surely, the man serving him medium rare steak and French champagne was doing this as an act of tolerance, friendship even?

Charles continued: “You’ve been far from agreeable…but now.”

The words gripped Magnus by the throat, rendering him silent. Utensils lowered, their stares met one another’s. Magnus expected a snicker, eyes confidently framed into slits to better make out his discontent. Instead, Magnus couldn’t tell if it was just him, or the combination of bubbly alcohol and a candlelit dinner, but Charles stared at him with a smile he hadn’t seen in years. There were round, lifted cheeks, and that all-too straight grin that almost crossed the line from being endearing, to becoming a tad awkward.

“I feel like I can rely on you,” Charles said, “Like, ah…like we used to, when we were young.”

Charm aside, it was a difficult pill to swallow. Magnus dropped his stare, to his once decadent meal. It was hard to keep an appetite upon learning the meal was a celebration for his submission.

A hand settled over Magnus’ right. His eyes returned to Charles, and upon the second glance, made out those small features he spent hours admiring during long nights spent waiting for the bus, in line, or just from sharing the same space. Sharp tip of the nose that always glowed under the smallest of lights. Perfectly shaped eyebrows. The very subtle way the glasses hung down the bridge when he lowered his head to meet him.

Magnus stabbed at his roasted parsnips, finding it equally difficult to be mad at the man who continued to offer help during bathing, purchased whatever form of literature he demanded, when he was acting in accordance. He picked at his meal, taking small bites and savoring the rich taste of butter, fluffy texture of potatoes and steak that melted in his mouth. The few glances he made at Charles, no matter how brief, were always met with positivity.

Something about it frightened him.

“I have something I want to show you.”

Upon completion of their meal, Charles called a klokateer from the red depths of the room, and then offered Magnus two thick files. Magnus opened the first, revealing the photo of a young woman dressed entirely in high-end gothic fashion, staring wildly at him. The first thing he noticed about her was that she was a stranger, an unknown he’d never engaged with in his entire life. Yet, he knew there was a connection, something that Charles connected with him.

Magnus rolled a thumb over the faded blur of her nose piercing, eyes briefly engaging with the uniqueness of her name, then closed the folder. “What’s this?”

Charles snapped a finger. “Special cases.”

Klokateer approached with a tray. While they replaced Magnus’ wine glass with smaller, round cups, he picked up the second file, and like before, met another smile, this time from a man. Unlike the goth, the man in the photo appeared lax, if not in a slight, distant daze. The blond highlights in his hair made Magnus want to connect the man with the goth-woman; the goatee and length of his hair made Magnus hesitant to try and tie the stranger with him.

After locating the name, and finding it equally as alien as the woman’s, Magnus sighed. On the other side of the table, Charles was waiting, patiently.

Magnus lowered the second file. “Are they dead?”

The candles’ embers flickered. A devious smile manifested across Charles’ ivory face. Another snap from his long fingers, and the gigantic monitor resting before them turned on, sending Magnus into a state of shock. His wheelchair jolted as he tried backing away from the now active screen, locked wheels keeping him in place while he gathered himself. Displaying on the screen were two people in a small room. A rec room, with a few old arcade games, display cased lines with boxes, an old couch, and a long, rectangular table. Magnus squinted his eyes, making out the dark blur of a shapely figure standing at one end of the table, picking up a paddle and ball. Magnus recognized her as the same woman from the file. He turned to the second figure standing on the opposite side, a tall man with a broad frame, shoulder-length hair, and carrying a lazy grin.

They were playing ping-pong.

A ball bounced from one side to the next as the two jumped, stretched, and did what they could to earn a point. If Magnus didn’t know any better, he’d assume this was just a friendly game between acquaintances, but the files on the table, and the curious glint in Charles’ eyes, told Magnus there was something far more ominous at hand.

Just as Magnus turned from the screen, caught something hanging in the corner of the cluttered room. A calendar, and when Magnus set his eyes upon it, turned sickly pale at the discovery of the month.

“They’re like you,” Charles suddenly began, his voice a faint echo while Magnus slowly drew away from the calendar, back to the two unknowns playing ping-pong. “Dead to the world, but–”

“A never-ending source of entertainment for you,” Magnus harshly bit back. A hand hit the edge of the table, pulling some of the cloth down. Charles remained seated, but his chair had groaned, dragging from the unannounced outburst. Magnus heard it, and he took and rolled with it, hoping it would serve and supply him strength against Charles.

“I always knew you were a control freak, but this…” Magnus gestured morosely at the screen. “I must say, the voyeurism is taking me by surprise.”

“It’s necessary to monitor prisoners.” Charles appeared calm, but his hands were clasped tightly together, wrinkles deepening from the lowered brow and frown, and patience nearing its untimely end. Still the answer was quick, short and to the bloody point. It was, like everything else that came from Charles, practical to the point of being insufferable.

Magnus humored the idea of their being cameras in his room, and Charles, his once beloved, using the very same excuse to watch him struggle each time he transitioned from chair to bed, chair to toilet, chair to floor.

Frustrated, he heaved a dry laugh. “And you’re quite sure you never read the works of Harlan Ellison?”

Charles didn’t answer. Magnus hit the table again, sending one of the candles to topple on its side. The flame died on its way down, but the effect was immediate. Weapons were drawn, and Magnus could see fine red dots pin-pointed all over his arm, and when he fell back into the wheelchair, saw a dozen more spread across his chest.

Unaffected, Charles waited until Magnus sank into the wheelchair, momentarily defeated.

“Would you like to meet them?”

“Is that a threat?” Magnus asked, arms crossed, the only act of defiance he could get away with.

“An invitation,” Charles insisted, as though it changed a damn thing.

For whatever reason, Charles outstretched his arm, hand hoping to return and rest upon Magnus like it had minutes ago. When it crossed the halfway mark, Magnus withdrew, going as far back into his seat as he could without having to drag his lower half with him.

Charles sighed, dejected. “I know it must be lonely, what with you, ah–”

Magnus opened his mouth, ready to lash at Charles for even trying. He saw the calendar. Whether he’d been handed a live recording, or something saved from days, even weeks before, nothing could change the terrifying knowledge he had picked up on when his eye set on the estimated date.

A year. He’d been locked in Mordhaus for a year, and never noticed! Time had blended, blurred and stagnated into a concrete wall that he couldn’t pass nor break. He was getting along better with Charles, tolerating him and almost…a year. Charles had been training him for an entire year, and now, after months of arguing, spitting out his meds, saying nasty words and refusing to wheel himself around, Charles was celebrating a year of them together, and of the slow, but now blatantly apparent improvement of his condition from having broken Magnus at some point.

“I figured, after you and I finished with the scriptures, you might be willing to offer a helping hand with these two.”

And he had broken him, to some extent. Otherwise, why the candles, the steak and that smile? Why let him use a knife tonight, when so many other nights he’d been handed only the plastic spork, later the spoon and fork, but only when in the company of gears? The comment about his weight, about the future hard work to come; it all amounted to Magnus surrendering, complying with Charles and doing whatever it took to remain noticed, acknowledged, alive.

“Well?” Charles’ voice broke through the fury building inside Magnus. “What do you think?”

His nails dug into the tablecloth. “And why would I ever consider aiding you in training additional human pets?” Magnus snapped. His entire chair lurched alongside him, dragging forward and colliding his lower abdomen against the table. Magnus barely noticed, too fixated on Charles’ calm, unmoving demeanor. The smug bastard. Magnus threw another fist at the table, sending his cappuccino to teeter near the end, threatening to fall and shatter. “Really Charles, you know how jealous I can get. Me, sharing another man with you? And a woman? Ha!”

He had done an excellent job refraining from bringing up their old flame, a mere pile of ashy white cinders long since carried off by the cruel, cold winds of fate. Charles had no problem hinting at it, calling forth old memories in a futile attempt to sway Magnus towards his favor, but until now Magnus’ pride had forbidden him to going so low as to attack Charles with stories of walks across the park, going to concerts to sight out potential competition and talent, or nights spent smoking and dreaming aloud.

Not anymore. Magnus undid the harness keeping his legs in place. He pressed his left arm on top of the table, elbow held firm under his weight. With this right, he dragged himself up, using the table for support as he tried to create some height over Charles.

“Let me guess? They’re exes of yours as well?” Magnus heaved a little as he lifted himself, lame legs adrift in a senseless void. Charles’ eyes finally gave to emotion, widening as Magnus carried himself using rage alone. “They piss you off, too? Didn’t like your prudish attitude? Your compulsive behavior? Tell me, Allied Mastercomputer, other than the fact that you own me body and soul, why the hell should I help you, huh?”

The words spat out, flicking and landing across Charles’ spectacles. He flinched, head and neck reacting to the meager onslaught, then returned to their usual placements. Magnus watched, arms shaking under his weight, while Charles picked up his napkin and removed his glasses to clean the lens. As he did, Magnus’ right elbow locked, and he slipped back. Though he couldn’t feel it, he knew his legs tripped over themselves, and were it not for a klokateers hastily grabbing him by the arms and guiding him back to his chair, Magnus knew he’d have likely fallen to the floor and be made a fool in front of Charles.

He wasn’t sure if this was any better.

No. He was still the fool in this scenario.

“I’ll grant you your legs back.”

Magnus slumped, eyes blank at the promise.

Charles lifted his glasses up the light, nose wrinkling slightly at the smudges that remained, and nothing more. “What’s more, I’ll grant you some privileges, allow you to traverse the hidden pathways on your own.”

Cruel words hardly had any meaning, anymore. And what was the point of trying to give the illusion of height, when both very well knew Magnus couldn’t so much as stand without the use of a wall, pole or beam? Was it even standing, or just support? Was it even support if he constantly leaned, dragged down by his broken body’s weight, bodily dysphoria that mapped out an incomplete form?

“What do you say, Magnus?” Charles asked calmly. There wasn’t the smallest hint that he was angry. Quite the contrary, he appeared as hopeful as ever, like he had been when asking Magnus out on their very first date. That Charles had also been calm, smile favoring his chances, the starlight above casting a light that brought out the rosiness of his cheeks, the pink of his smile when affirmed the upcoming date.

Magnus blinked. The red hue of the room really did bring out the sharp contours of his high cheekbones, the shallow hood of his eyelids.

Magnus shook his head, and when he dropped down to witness the awkward positioning of his legs, felt Charles’ hand return to him.

There it goes, again. “Would you be willing to try?”

Magnus glanced at the thick files, no doubt filled with all the information he needed to manipulate and convince these unknown factors in his obstructively miniscule world to follow his every word. He’d done it before, had ticked greater men with less information to work with.

And to walk again…?

Magnus returned to facing the left, at the overcast monitor now displaying just the man sitting on a couch, legs and arms spread as he stared peevishly at the swaying camera observing him. The goth girl was gone. After an inhale from what looked like a cigarette, possibly a vape pen, the man waved at the security camera, and Magnus tore away, ashamed for even considering putting another person through a similar hell as his.

Charles was waiting for him at the table. “Well?”

He swallowed a lump. “What’s for dessert?”

Unmoving, Charles responded: “One of your favorites.”

The circular dome lifted, revealing a small, thin slice of dark chocolate cake, interior thick and layered with a darkening shade of increasing bitter chocolate. Surrounding it were several, plump little raspberries, and just as Magnus was handed a new spoon, a klokateer poured a bright, vibrant pink syrup over the slice. Like dinner, few words were shared between the two. His appetite long gone, Magnus struggled to make due and distracted himself with small bites that tasted less sweet each time his eyes caught the man in the monitor switching between the various forms of entertainment, and looking up to ponder over the unknown taking delight in his situation.

Magnus licked his lips, tasting the tart syrup spread across his upper, and wasn’t surprised when he saw Charles watching him, eyes soft and overflowing with nostalgia. Remembering the date on the calendar, Magnus dared and tested the dark waters.

He picked up a raspberry. “Happy anniversary, Charles.”

Lowering his cappuccino, Charles replied with a hum. “Happy anniversary, Magnus.”

#butterknife #magnus hammersmith #charles foster offdensen #melmord fjordslorn #trindle #getting-sloppy #thank you #this world is getting big #what will magnus do next

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sabraeal · 4 years

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Desert & Reward, Chapter 10

[Read on AO3]

There’s someone in his room.

The windows are shut against the night air-- Yori, and by that he means Morel, has ideas about air flow and general health that he can’t wait for Miss to hear-- but a faint whisper skates across the stillness. It’s not his own breath; that’s been trapped in his chest since he flinched awake, fully conscious of the shade lingering in the shadows.

How gauche to kill a groom before his wedding night. Everyone knows corpses are only fashionable when found fresh on their marital bed.

But style is the least of his concerns right now. With a conscious effort, every tense muscle eases, his limbs flopping out like a limp starfish. Miss might complain about his sprawl after spending a cold night curled at the edge of the bed, but it was the perfect posture to imply a solid, dead to the world sort of unconsciousness.

There’s only one way to really sell this perfect deception: a snore. Not a dainty, fake one, oh no, but a wall-rattling, chest-and-throat-involved extravaganza of sound. There, obnoxious and oblivious: the perfect victim.

The sound of rustling cloth is muted beneath his act, but Obi hasn’t lasted this long by being a slouch in the perception department. His hand slithers under the pillow, clasping his fingers around a hilt. He hopes his murderer is enjoying the show; it’ll be the last thing they ever see, after all.

“My lord.”

Obi winces. That’s-- that’s much closer than he would have thought. His grip tightens, back tensing--

“My lord,” his attacker whispers again, beleaguered. “Get up.”

“Yori?” His eyes slit open, the dark room viewed from behind the cage of his lashes, and-- ah, there. Yori, his hair oddly askew, shirt glowing white in the dim. Ah, what did he always say? Assassins and domestics.

Obi rolls over, blinks. His valet is half-dressed. “Did you get in a fight?”

“A--? No, my lord.” He sighs, straightening from his servile crouch. “If my lord would be so kind, I’d feel better if you weren’t poised to attack me with cutlery.”

His grip loosens, blade dropping back to it’s place on the mattress. “It��s not cutlery.”

“Well, it’d certainly be more at home in a kitchen than the bedroom,” his valet huffs, hands wrapping around his hips. Mrs Carre will be so pleased to know he was getting a proper scolding even out of her care. “If you’re plan to keep that habit back home, then I’m going to start asking for hazard pay.”

He makes a sound half laugh, half snort, and entirely derisive. “Ah, come on. It’s not like it’s a new...”

His well of words dries up as Yori stares at him, head cocked and curious, arms crossed like a mother waiting for a weak explanation, and--

He hasn’t at Cacciatore. Purposefully, at first; there’s no better way to root out a traitor than to play into the expectation of a hapless lord. But then...

Well, the bedside drawer is just as good a hiding place as a pillow. One the maids were less likely to find, at least. Lili would take a discovery like that with her usual aplomb-- in his experience, Tanbarun made their ladies particlarly unflappable-- but any of the others...

Well, he could only imagine the sort of dressing down he’d get if one of Mrs Carre’s girls cut themselves changing the linen. He might be lord of the manor, but Obi’s under no illusions about whose house he lives in.

“What time is it?” He squints toward the widows. It’s impossible to tell; night’s faded from black to a thick blue, but his room faces west, not east.

“Early,” Yori replies, shirty. “You need to get up.”

Obi groans, throwing his arm over his eyes. If he closes them now, he might have a chance of slipping back into sleep. “We’re in the city, Yori. We keep city hours.”

“I understand, sir, but however--”

He rolls over, burying his face in the pillow. “Wake me up when breakfast is here.”

Yori heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Although there’s nothing I would like more than being able to ignore my duty and return to bed, my lord, there’s a message for you.”

“It’ll keep.”

“Sir--”

He opens a single, dubious eye. “Is something on fire, Yori?”

“No, but--”

“Then it can wait until morning.”

That should be the end of the conversation; it always was when he tried to pester Master-- Zen into action in the wee hours. But instead Yori shuffles, put-out, at the edge of the bed. “It’s from the gate, my lord.”

Obi’s never been one for pulling rank-- it stuck him as a little uppity to expect sirs and milords when he’d been dragged out of the gutter-- but oh, he’s tempted to now. If even the gate guards think they can rouse him in the middle of the night on a whim, it seems prudent to cultivate at least an inkling of noble bearing. “And?”

“Someone’s waiting for you.”

They take the servant’s corridors; the palace’s halls might be empty this time of night-- or morning-- but these are what Obi knows best. He might have a title now, but back in those days, he’d been an up-jumped gutter rat. Even with his shiny messenger tag, the court rested a little easier if the riffraff didn’t sully their air by breathing it.

It’s an advantage now; with no guards to ask their their business, they’ll make better time. From chambers to Starlight and back again, in bed before he can lose his beauty sleep.

“I hope you are aware, my lord--” if only Yori could teach him how to infuse so much derision into a title, Obi would die a happy, if thoroughly stabbed, man-- “that a man of proper breeding would submit to the whole of their toilette before even thinking of stepping foot out of their--”

“You got this robe on me.” A testament to Yori’s powers of persuasion, considering what an eyesore it is. “Don’t push your luck.”

“A banyan is the least you could do.” The crisp cut of his words channels every last stuffy inch of Mr Morel. “You might as well be walking around in your drawers.”

“Aw, come on.” He grins, letting the robe gape; even the peep of pajama brings a frown to Yori’s face. “You know better than anyone that I don’t wear any.”

His valet could teach a master class on sighs. “For someone so devoted to their line of their trouser, you might wear ones where it matters.”

He clucks his tongue. “And ruin the mystery?”

Something utterly intriguing ripples across Yori’s face, pinching his mouth and furrowing his brow, leaving him more Morel than man. “My lord, the trappings of the court may not suit you, but I beg you to concede to at least some form of propriety.”

He glances back at him, waggling his brows. “And why would I do that?”

“Your wife.”

Ah, now that stops him dead in his tracks. “My...?”

Yori squeezes a steeling breath through his nose. “It may have escaped you, my lord, but you are going to marry in the morning.”

All at once, he’s aware of how much his body aches. Last night-- no, only hours ago-- is...foggy, blurred by the patina of alcohol, but he could never forget the warm weight of Miss on his back, of the sweet way she clung to him as they flew through the air-- nor the sickening crack his bones made on that landing. Miss may be light, but unlike snow banks, balconies are hell on the knees.

Miss, who he was only carrying because she was too drunk to walk. Who was only drunk because she’d been at a hen party. Who was only at a hen party because it was being thrown in her honor. An honor she only had because she was due to get married in the morning. The same wedding he’d be having because they were marrying each other.

He needs a minute. A long one. His death grip on the wainscoting isn’t going to be enough to hold him. “It is morning.”

Yori’s mouth pulls thin; not the way Morel’s can, but close enough. “When it is more morning.”

There’s no blush of dawn linger at the horizon, only the mist of its breath, but oh, that is...more than enough. His Majesty sprung this impossibility on him only days ago, and now--

Well, he’d better enjoy his bachelorhood while he can. In a few short hours, he’ll be Miss’s ball and chain.

“And to a margravine,” Yori continues, sulkily keeping pace. “I know you’re content to hide away in the country for the rest of your life, my lord--” a lie, if Obi ever heard one-- “but your wife’ll want to keep a presence at court.”

He tries to picture it, tries to think of Miss weighed down by a dress so bejeweled it practically has its own economy, wearing a courtly mask for every occasion, talking of nothing but the latest fashion or the most shocking scandal and not hating every minute of it--

But it’s impossible. Tanbarun’s king can slap a title on her, but not even Master could make her enjoy it. She might come when a crown calls, but they’ll be prying her out from between the pages of a book.

Yori’ll learn all that soon enough. Or he would, if Miss came to live at Cacciatore. Which she wouldn’t; no reason to halt all her actual, important work for a fake marriage that’ll be nothing more than ashes in the pan in a handful of years anyway.

But Yori doesn’t know that-- can’t know that, if he wants to keep Miss away from whatever plans Tanbarun has for her. So he lets his mouth tilt, lets a sly smile creep up the curve of his jaw. The first rule of being a good gambler is never telling a man when he puts his money on the wrong bird. “You don’t say?”

“Of course I do.” His valet glances at him, cheeks puffed and brows bent, and tells him with all the undue confidence only an umarried man could, “If you’re to be married, sir, you might learn about the wants of women.”

He doesn’t laugh. When all this is over, His Majesty should put a medal on his chest for it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Yori.” Obi blinks, eyes adjusting the the brilliant flare of the lamps. “This isn’t Starlight.”

His valet sighs. “No, my lord. It is not.”

“But you said there was a message for me--?”

“At the gate,” Yori confirms, beleaguered. “Poet’s gate.”

Obi would rather die than admit it but-- he’s starting to regret the banyan. Well, he’s always regretted the banyan, but the pajamas beneath it--

Well, he’s definitely under-dressed. For whatever this is.

Not that it looks like much. A coach idles at the foot of the stair, paneled all in black, but the rest of the courtyard is empty. Well, save for the swarm of footmen buzzing around, combing the carriage for every last hair of the lord that abandoned it. What sort of sadist arrives in the wee hours, Obi can’t say, but he’s glad all their wedding guests are accounted for, otherwise--

The door shuts, and there, staring him dead in the eye, is the horned hind of Forenzo.

“Obi!” Long limbs flail out from the swarm, and in the first blush of dawn, one of the footmen resolves into more inches than sense.

“Suzu?” He tries to tell himself to walk forward, but his legs stall numbly beneath him. The past three days have felt like a dream-- a nightmare, really-- but the sort he can control, the kind he can choose to wake up from.

“What...?” A foxish face looms just over him, grinning lazily. Suzu’s here now, and it’s all suddenly real. “What are you doing here?”

“I came with Lata,” he says, as if that explains anything. “He had an invitation.”

“Right.” Of course he did; not that Obi had ever expected him to use it. “But what are you doing here?”

“Oh, well, we figured if he was coming, we should go too.” One large hand sweeps over the ill-fitting Forenzo livery. “So here I am.”

Obi blinks. “And Lata just...let you?”

“Oh, no. Definitely not.” He shrugs, sending arms everywhere. “He told us it would be a cold day in Yuris before he let a single one of us show up as his plus one.”

That sounds right, at least. “Mmhm.”

“So we played roshambo for it,” Suzu continues, “and I told him I’d be his servant or whatever.”

“And that...worked?” Maybe this was all still a dream. It’s following the same sort of logic, at least.

“Yeah! Actually--” Suzu rubs at his chin, just the way Shidan does, only with far less reason or facial hair-- “he seemed happy not to have to go and interview people for it.”

That made sense, at least.

“You’re Lord Forenzo’s valet?”

Suzu glances up, blinking at where his own stands, just three steps up from where they’re talking. “Yeah, that sounds like what he said.”

Yori, for his part, looks politely horrified. Obi can’t blame him; Suzu doesn’t give off the air of being in charge of himself, let alone another person, especially one expected to participate in a toilette of some kind.

Still, that’s not the part that bothers him, personally. “But why?”

“Well--” Suzu sucks in a breath, hands hooking around his hips like Yuzuri does right before she lays into him-- “my guess would be his complete lack of social skills--”

“No, not that.” He doesn’t exactly need a primer on Lata Forenzo being a misanthrope. “I mean why did you bother going through all that trouble?”

Obi’s come face to face with a fox once, years ago now. He’d been doing the long walk of shame that came from country kills, no trees to help him along and no reason to hurry back to his cramped quarters, when two foxes darted across his path. Or at least one did, scurrying across into the long grass in a rusty streak. The other--

The other sat there, right in front of him, one paw raised. Like he couldn’t be seen if he didn’t move. Or maybe that the scarecrow staring down at him couldn’t attack as long as he kept him in his sight. Obi had to turn his back before the thing dared to dart away, and only once his friend let out an eerie whimper.

But for that moment, amber burned into gold, and the gulf between human and fox seemed so, infinitesimally small--

Well, it’s what he thinks of as Suzu stares at him, those sharp angles of his cheeks limned in the dawn’s light.

“C’mon.” Suzu’s mouth curls into a sure smile, one fist tapping him on the shoulder. “The best man can’t miss the wedding.”

“Ah...” Obi rubs at the back of his head. “About that...”

“Prince Zen is Marquis Conti’s best man,” Yori offers, strangely bitter. “You know, the second prince.”

Obi cranes his neck back with a scowl. “That’s not my name.”

Yori, with not a contrite bone in his body, says, “Apologies, my lord.”

Obi turns back, a much more sincere apology brewing behind his teeth, but Suzu is too busy frowning over his shoulder to appreciate it. “Who is this guy?”

“Ah...” Obi had left Lyrias with a jaunty wave and a promise to be back before the next snow; he’d thought that a royal reward consisted of a fancy title and some cash, a quick trip down to sweat in the capital before coming back to freeze at the castle.

And then, well--

“I am my lord’s personal valet,” Yori informs him, giving Suzu’s slapdash livery a perusal that could only be described as scathing.

“Oh!” Suzu’s mouth parts in a grin that usually means he’s about to get punched. “You have one of these too? Am I going to get one?”

“Ancestors forfend,” Yori mutters at the same time Obi adds, louder, “I think only lords get them.”

Suzu hums. “Well, I suppose I can’t mind being second fiddle to a guy that is, you know, a prince.”

“It’s political,” Obi assures Suzu with a grimace. “Not personal. If I ever get married for re--”

His teeth clack shut. Ah, so many months out in the country have dulled his edge. Or at least loosened his tongue.

“It’s all right, man.” Suzu’s gaze darts pointedly over his shoulder. “I’ll forgive you this time. I still get to come, right?”

Yori steps in. “The tables are already--”

“Yes.” For the first time in what feels like days, Obi actual smiles. “I’ll make sure there’s room for you.”

He deserves at least one real thing on his wedding day, after all.

“Great!” Suzu’s mouth stretches wide. “I’m famished.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #desert and reward #ans #here it is #my holiday gift to all of you!#merry christmas to all who celebrate!#i'd been wanted to get to a CERTAIN PART in this chapter #but it would have made this solidly 6K #and I try to keep these until 5K #so i guess it will happen NEXT TIME #when we actually get to the WEDDING for once #....hopefully

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