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amiedala · 3 years

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Something More (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 1: INTO THE STARS

Rated: Explicit (not this chapter, but future chapters will be)

Warnings: light descriptions of violence

Summary: Meeting the Mandalorian was like colliding into the rest of your life at a moment’s notice. Like oh, there you are. It was both jarring and familiar at the same time, like stepping into a minute with no intentions and stepping out of it in deja-vu. You had always been told you made too much out of everything, that you blew up every circumstance to fit some kind of grand destiny, some huge significance. If anyone asked, you’d swear up and down this was different. It was different. The Mandalorian sweeping you off your feet and out of your back alley haunts and narrow escapes was something kismet. Something cosmic. Something more.

Or, a slow burn love story across the stars featuring you, Din, and your little green baby. With love, angst, lust, and everything in between following you across the galaxy.*this deviates from canon for the most part, the plot begins at the very end of season 1 and will deviate for about half of season 2! there is LOTS planned for this (i already have 19k words written & will be posting regularly) so i hope you all enjoy!! <3 muah*

this is 1000000% completely inspired by the incredible behemoth SUPREME Mandalorian fic Rough Day by our lord & savior @no-droids but it will have its entire own plot & more of a slowburn in both love & smut, specifically for suffering long haul romance lovers like myself!

i already have 19k words written & will be ATTEMPTING to post updates regularly (and if i get excited about getting new chapters up, they might come early. i'm gonna try to post Saturday evenings every week, extenuating circumstances notwithstanding <3

hope you enjoy!!! more to come VERY SOON!!!

Meeting the Mandalorian was like colliding into the rest of your life at a moment’s notice. Like oh, there you are. It was both jarring and familiar at the same time, like stepping into a minute with no intentions and stepping out of it in deja-vu. You had always been told you made too much out of everything, that you blew up every circumstance to fit some kind of grand destiny, some huge significance. If anyone asked, you’d swear up and down this was different. It was different. The Mandalorian sweeping you off your feet and out of your back alley haunts and narrow escapes was something kismet. Something cosmic. Something more.

You met him on Nevarro. You weren’t even supposed to be there. You were supposed to be back in the Mid Rim by that point, long gone from your last mission gone sour. Your ship had broken down and you narrowly escaped a crash landing, and you’d hiked for hours through the unyielding lava fields for the closest town, with nothing but a handful of credits and the clothes on your back. Somehow, miraculously, you were able to grab the last of your water and your mother’s necklace from where it was hanging on the dashboard before the magma had bubbled up and claimed the better half of the old X-wing before you could go back in for more.

“Dank ferrik,” you seethed, and the curse felt alien under your tongue. There was no one out here to hear it but yourself, the lava, and the sulfuric air, anyways, so you grumbled out a few more before the ship fully sank into the magma in front of you.

The ship itself wasn’t a big loss—you’d only gotten it because it was the cheapest after you lost your own to that smuggler, but being stranded on a planet that was so aggressive towards any sort of survival wasn’t the best circumstance in the galaxy. But here you were, stuck, unmoored, anchorless, on a planet not known for anything except its rivers of lava and a bounty hunters’ guild you’d heard about and tried your best to stay away from. That town was the only landmark you had, though, so you begrudgingly trekked across Nevarro’s molten surface in search for any form of civilization.

The sky had started to slip off into darkness, and the small flecks of the other Outer Rim planets glistened lightyears away from where you were hiking when you stumbled over something and nearly fell into what you assumed was a dormant vat of lava. It was only when you scrambled away from the hot pocket of ground that you realized it was a stormtrooper helmet. A stormtrooper helmet with a head still in it. You gasped and skittered away, pushing off the heels of your hands to get upward as fast as you can, not even registering the heat eating through the skin of your palms. You didn’t have a weapon—the old blaster you’d carried for the last few years had been eaten up with the X-Wing—and as your eyes adjusted to a collection of white armor and bodies on the ground, you kicked yourself from not prioritizing the gun over getting out unscathed.

You didn’t scare easy. You grew up on a slowly abandoned Rebel base back on Yavin, and even after your parents’ deaths, you were surrounded by a legion of people who took care of you and taught you how to fight. Really, you were good at getting out of sticky situations that looked too dire to survive—take the crash landing an hour back for example—but you had a giant blind spot of earnestness to believe the people you went into business with were being sincere. That’s how the ship had crashed in the first place, you exchanged a repair of your original starship with providing Alderaanian liquor to a smuggler and his droid back on Dantooine who had both cut and run with it before fully repairing the vitally broken control panel. It was a rookie mistake, which you definitely weren’t, but he had just seemed so earnest in his need for the alcohol, and your fatal flaw was that you always trusted people who needed help. Even to your own detriment.

It had been your downfall back home, and at least twice when you were adventuring through the Outer Rim, and when you narrowly escaped a Deveronian when you had first started out on your own, because you were too close to a scumbag in friend’s clothing who fumbled the bag and left you for dead. He even stole your ship, then, and you had to make a series of sordid deals to get off Polis Massa, let alone find a place where you could crash safely for weeks before you could work up enough credits to get the X-Wing, which was, quite ceremoniously, dead now.

You shivered with the realization that you might be in danger, too. There were so many bodies scattered across this ridge and the next, and a handful of crashed TIE fighters. The sight of them didn’t strike fear into you—they never really had, you were raised in the Alliance and you could outfly the Empire since you were six years old—but they made you feel uneasy. Nevarro didn’t have a Rebel base, and you had never met someone in the Alliance who was from the planet. With the obvious show of Imperial affiliation and the bounty hunters’ guild, Nevarro was seedy enough that it kept you on edge as you walked, hopefully towards a town with people who didn’t want anything more from you than an easy job.

It must have been near dawn when you finally made it to the edge of the town. It was at best shot to all hell and at worst absolutely obliterated. Your heart sank. There were more dead suits of white armor scattered across the dirt and sand. There were helmets on pikes that looked far too fresh. Your hand twitched near your thigh where your blaster was usually strapped. All of this was a bad idea. You shouldn’t have left the blaster in the ship. If you were really playing the game of regrets, though, you never should have helped the smuggler. You should have paid the fifteen more credits to get the X-Wing fixed on Tatooine instead. You should have stayed on Yavin after your parents died and shouldn’t have been so earnest to make it on your own and—

“Hey.” The voice came from behind you, and you whipped around so fast your hair fell from where the clasp had been hanging on to nothing but a prayer since your crash landing. You shook it away from your face, eyes squinted at the figure that seemed to materialize behind you. “Where are you from, pretty thing?”

“Coruscant,” you lied through your teeth. The name of the planet you’ve been trying to avoid for years burns a hole through your belly.

“You don’t belong in a place like this.” He stepped into the light, and he wasn’t human. You didn’t know what he was, exactly, but his tone made your skin crawl. You held your ground.

“You’re right. I don’t. I’m looking for a mechanic.”

“I’m a mechanic.” Like hell he was. You clenched your jaw, trying to look menacing. The grease and sweat from the hike there was smeared on your face, your pants had gotten ripped while climbing out of the crash. You didn’t like how his eyes fixated hungrily on the flesh of your exposed thigh, and you had to shake the thought away while you walked into a voice much more brazen than your own.

“Do you know how to fix an X-Wing?” You stepped forward, and the Rebel insignia on your necklace glinted in the low light. Around these parts, after the fall of the Empire, you’ve heard Rebels strike fear into the local folk. Suddenly, the guy took a step backward, and you reveled in your menace for a split second before you realized someone was standing behind you.

He didn’t speak again before he took off. You stuttered, the sudden appearance of the figure behind you catching in your chest, and it rose to a cut off yelp when a red blast knocked the one who had hit on you off his feet, spiraling over a stormtrooper body, falling to the rocky floor. Dead. He was dead. You spun, praying that your heart hammering in your chest was just leftover adrenaline and not a signifier of a new threat.

Standing behind you, outfitted entirely in silver reflective armor, was a Mandalorian. “Nevarro doesn’t have mechanics.”

You squinted. You were completely taken aback by his presence, his hulking realness, but suddenly his statement overpowered your revelry. “I find that hard to believe.”

“That X-Wing crashed out there is yours.” It isn’t a question. His voice is deep, a baritone that spreads warmth even blocked by the modulator in his helmet. You’d only heard of Mandalorians in stories, legends, around the campfires growing up. You didn’t expect one to ever materialize in anything other than myth, let alone stand in front of you, electric.

You nod. Did he follow you all the way to town?

“You aren’t looking for a mechanic.” His voice is so sure, so big. Your world spins on its axis, the feeling foreign and familiar all at once. He had spoken three sentences to you, and already, you felt that dizzy, magnetic pull that you tried to convince yourself was there much more often than it was.

“I…” You trail off, staring up at his visor. He seems larger than life, much larger than you, at least, and for some reason, the hugeness is cutting off all of your words before they can fully form. “No. I need a way off this planet, though.”

“Can you fly?”

You balk at his question, annoyed—obviously, you could fly—and then remember the only track record you have in the Mandalorian’s eyes is your ship, crash landed and then immediately swallowed by lava. “I’m a pilot. A runner. I’ve been flying since I was six years old.”

He takes a minute, completely silent. The noise of the scattered stormtrooper bodies around you suddenly seems deafening. You aren’t scared of him. You think. Your heart is still hammering, but it’s nothing like the fear that rushed through you when the alien talked to you a few minutes ago. It’s different—not adrenaline, exactly, and not fear. You place the feeling when it washes over you again, warm and unexpected—Excitement.

“Okay.” He moves, and you startle. You didn’t realize the conversation was over.

“Uh,” you stammer, “Do you… do you need a pilot?”

“No,” he says, over his shoulder. His strides are long. You step forward, almost pulled after him, then stuttered to a stop. “But I might be your only ride out of here.”

“Oh,” you manage, and then follow him. The dim light spreads over the horizon as you walk, stunned into silence by his own, trying to mimic his step, his quiet. It doesn’t happen. You’re clunking along beside him, the noise made even louder by the silence in his gait. “I’m not picky, where we go, you know—I was heading away from the Outer Rim, so I’m in no rush to get back there, but—I mean, I’m thankful that you’re taking me anywhere—”

“I can’t pay you. But you don’t have to pay me, either.”

You blink, feet stuttering to a near stop, buffering before you remember to keep following him. “I’m sorry?”

“You can fly, right?”

You blink, eyes darting up to the back of his helmet. It might just be the modulator, but there’s no air in his voice, no struggle to cross the hard, hot terrain. It’s impressive. “I can, but you thought you didn’t need a pilot—?”

“You were a rebel.” His voice is curt. Quick.

Your eyebrows furrow, looking down at the insignia on your necklace and then back up at him. There’s a dry breeze over the molten moors, and his cape catches in the wind. It flutters. It’s the first sign of something gentle about him. It’s the memory you take with you for months later, savoring it for when he’s leaving you on the ship while he goes and catches his bounties, one by one. You cling to it in the long lapses of time where he doesn’t offer you anything but silence. You’ll hold onto it, a butterfly of a memory, for weeks—until he offers you something softer, something warmer. Something real.

You don’t know that in the moment, though. Right now, he’s asked a question, and you’re struggling to answer it honestly. “I was.”

“You don’t scare easily.”

It’s like he’s putting together these impossible puzzle pieces of your life. How is he guessing this? He’s known you for maybe ten whole minutes. It swells in your chest, a thunderbird of a thing, and you don’t know why.

“I’d like to think so,” you manage, as he tilts his helmet back to search you for your answer. Your breath hitches in your throat at the thought of his eyes on you, and you wonder what color they are. Maker. Where did that come from?

“Good.”

A ship seems to materialize out of nowhere, but it seems more likely that you were so caught up in the mystery of the Mandalorian and keeping your gaze locked on him that his ship was in the periphery of your vision. You follow him, still confused, up the descended gangplank. Sitting in the middle of the ship is a tiny green baby, with eyes ten times the size of its nose, with peach fuzz lazily dusting the top of its head. It’s holding a tiny silver ball in its three-fingered hands, looking up at the Mandalorian with outstretched arms.

You watch, in stunned silence, as the giant hulking silver figure crouches down to pick up the baby, meeting its little coos with soft words right back. It’s as soft as his cape fluttering in the wind, an unexpected, fleeting feeling of warmth. You don’t know what to do with yourself. The warm breeze buffets the small of your back, ruffles your loose hair. You just stand there, entirely enamored with this tiny green baby in the Mandalorian’s arms, speechless.

“You don’t scare easily,” the Mandalorian repeats.

You shake your head. “Nope.”

He holds the baby up to you. “How about now?”

You blink, confused. “Am I supposed to be scared of it?”

“Him.”

You take a tentative step forward, gaze flickering between the two of them, wondering what would have happened if you had crash landed literally anywhere else, at literally any other time. Something big and ceremonious swells somewhere deep in your chest.

“I’m not scared,” you finally say, and when your eyes find his visor again, you hope he knows you mean you’re not scared of either of them. You could be—most people with common sense are struck with fear at the sight of meeting a Mandalorian, especially one associated with such a widespread bounty hunters’ guild—but fear just keeps getting pushed away as the seconds pass. A small voice in the back of your head whispers that this is another mistake of being too trustful, but the larger half of you knows how to handle yourself if you find trouble. Besides, he has a tiny alien kid, and something tells you the Mandalorian wouldn’t put the baby in a situation that he deemed unsafe. As the door zips shut behind you, you step forward into the ship—into the place you’ll eventually make your home—heart still hammering on and on, thrumming as the three of you lift off of Nevarro’s surface and into the stars.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars #fanfiction #i hope y'all enjoy!!!!!#something more

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pure-kirarin · 3 years

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The rose left unwatered (Law x f!reader)

Heyo guys ! this is my first multi part fanfiction and I hope that you will all like it =w=. No TW for now apart for coming smut in next chapters~ This was originally a request by @soul-stealer-reaper . Thanks for requesting :) originally you asked for a scenario with rough NSFW where Law has a crush on a girl that the government is afraid of and that has high bounty. As this will have some parts, everything you asked for will come in the next chapters so no worries :’) ! I won’t hide that wrote quite freely tho, I hope that it’s fine. Synopsis : You have felt unwanted for so long that you forgot the last time you felt like you belonged. Quite paradoxical, when you are one of the most wanted “criminals” in the new world. You cross paths with Law after joining the strawhats at Fishman Island to “kill some time” and you both feel a weird connection from the moment your eyes met, curiosity, hatred or desire, did it really matter as long as feelings were involved ? ---------------------------

A rose left unwatered will wither, A heart left unloved will rot, A sweet dream left untouched will go bitter, A love left unspoken will be forgot. Nemo - Murder in Venice

The first time that Law saw you, he found you extremely annoying. He remembered that he saw your wanted poster somewhere, with one of the highest bounties that he has ever seen. Seeing such a high bounty made him raise an eyebrow at first, what could you have done to have the whole world on your back ? The second thought that came to his mind was that of detachement, then he flinched at that thought.

The first time that Law saw you in person was after his Allience with the strawhats. You stayed at the ship the whole time, you didn't even bother to follow others to punk Hazard or to help them with their plans. He thought that you were an extremely selfish person and you reminded him of the person that he hated most. That way you had of doing what you wanted without caring about others, the smirk you had on your lips at all times, never submitting, always acting so sure of yourself, it irritated him.

How could someone get such a strong reaction out of him ? He didn't even know, he always eyed you from afar and it was enough to know that you prfoundly, passionately got on his nerves.

You joined the strawhats in the Fishmen Island, finding your way to them and just asking to join. Luffy's simplistic demeanor meant that he accepted right away, not caring about who you were and not flinching at your high bounty.

You made it clear that you were just staying to be entertained, in fact, you didn't want to fight, you didn't want to help anyone, your curiosity was just peaked by Luffy, by that man that defied the world government, by that man that defied everyone at Marineford. You weren't impressed, but you just felt sympathy towards him and wanted to find some company.

You found what you were looking for, in fact, life with the strawhats was enjoyable, you didn't get along with Usopp or Nami. The former thought that you were « too scary » and would kill them in their sleep, the latter hated how little you were willing to cooperate.

You had your own reason, but nobody on that ship was able to grasp your personnality, you just had your own way of thinking, your own internal logic that nobody seemed to get. Who were you ? Why were you there and why was the whole world on your back ? All these questions were provoking Law, teasing him endlessly. His curiosity was growing day after day and you were always there, on a lounge chair enjoying the burn of the sun on your skin, not caring about anything else, not caring about him, not that he cared...did he ? You got on his nerves just by being there, he felt obseverd yet, he wasn't the kind of people to get flustered but your gaze was so intense, feline.

It was a soft night on the sunny, a few days before getting to Dressrosa. On this night, the strawhats decided to gather around after dinner like always. They enjoyed socializing and spending time together, telling stories and playing silly games. It was quite late so Momo was already sleeping. Everyone was on the deck enjoying some drinks and you were on the crow's nest, peaceful.

« Y/N-chaaawn~ » Screamed Sanji, making you look down. « Come have some fun with us, don't stay there on your own ! »

« - Yeah Y/N ! We're all having fun here. » Said Luffy.

You jumped gracefully from the crow's nest just like a cat. You then looked around circularly before taking place between Law and Robin as she silently made some space for you. The atmosphere was light and everyone was enjoying themselves. Zoro was drinking bottle after bottle as Sanji was screaming at him. Usopp was telling you all for the tenth time about how he took down a sea king with his little finger and Luffy and Chopper were captivated by how cool that was.

You were just silently enjoying that sense of peace till Nami asked you out of nowhere

« Oh true Y/N, I actually never asked but I am curious, why is your bounty so high ? What have you done ? »

For a second your expression changed and everyone's eyes were on you. You just decided to tell them some kind of lie and you said that you killed a celestial dragon. Everyone looked at you in awe, killing a celestial dragon means that you had to escape from admirals. You excused yourself then saying you were tired, therefore going to sleep.

After hours of partying Strawhats went to sleep. You got out of the girl's quarter wearing only a night gown. Your thoughts were waltzing since earlier's events and you were looking melancolically at the ocean. The sound of the waves was so calming, you got close to the board of the sunny, placing your elbows on the wooden surface. You didn't notice it when Law came your way, he wasn't sleeping either, his sleeping schedule was always herractic. He was still intrigued by the lie you told earlier and by your overall attitude, something about you drew him towards you like a magnet.

-(Y/N)-ya...You didn't kill a celestial dragon, did you?

His voice was low and hoarse, stealing a murmur out of your lips. Your eyes met his, gray, icy. It was the first time he said your name outloud, actually, you briefly ever interacted since he got on this ship.

-Trafalgar ?..

You were wondering why did he bring this up, he never ever showed interest in you and you in him. In fact, now that you looked at him more in detail, you could say that he was an exceptionally handsome male with soft dark hair and a gloomy but all the more seductive cast of demeanor.

He could obtain any female he wanted at a snap of his fingers. You looked away and added :

-I thought that you disliked me. Why do you even ask ?

He raised an eyebrow, but got back to his stoic expression almost immediatly. He didn't know that it showed. However, you were wrong, he was starting to get intrigued by you, by your high bounty, by the detached way you acted. He was usually the one to observe and analyse people, but something about you...He couldn't put a finger on.

-I don't like lies.

-I have my own reasons...I'm sure there are a lot of things that you want to keep secret.

You hesitated then looked his side. He seemed calm still and just shrugged, ready to go back to his spot but then you added ;

-I lied because I didn't want to involve anyone in this...When I was just a child, I was a part of a dozen kids that were selected to take part into a « government experiment »...I don't want to go into details but...you clenched your fist, eyes fixed on an imaginary point in front of you I am the only survivor of that experiment...Therefore I'm being tracked... We were given power...To this day I don't know its extent...But I know that with just a blow of my fingers I could...you gasped How could a child be granted such a power ? Why did they have to choose for me ? I didn't want any of this....I never wanted to fight, I don't want to fight. I just wanted to be normal, to have a family, to feel wanted...haha...your laugh was bitter I mean, I know that I am the most wanted person you probably met, but I didn't mean it in that way. I hope that this satisfies your curiosity, Trafalgar Law.

Your eyes met, he looked in them, deep, searching for traces of honesty. You were telling the truth, there wasn't a doubt. He liked the way his name sounded out of your lips, it was the first time that he heard these three letters murmured by you. It's as if his first name sounded different, you had that way of saying it, almost like a whisper. You looked so vulnerable in your nightgown, so fragile despite your usual arrogant carapace. The fiery tigress looked like a sweet kitten and he was surprised by the way he just wanted to reassure you. He brushed that thought quickly and added, stoic ;

-I see, why did you tell me ?

-You just asked me to, no ? I just felt like we were a bit alike...Ah. Also, quit asking me questions....This is starting to feel like a doctor examination...Now it's my turn to ask. Why do you even care ? I didn't think that the surgeon of death was such a curious person.

He scratched his chin, hesitating for a second, but then he just said bluntly ;

-The first time I saw you, I thought that you were extremely annoying.

- Ah ? you looked at him with a straight face, but still a bit offended If we're playing first impressions then...

-But I get it now.

He wasn't annoyed, in fact, he was just fascinated. It wasn't animosity that he felt but desire to know more about you. It wasn't that he was making sure that you're not endangering anyone, he wanted to look at you, it was just excuses upon excuses, rationalization for a case of irrational fascination. Now that the diagnostic was there, he could understand his emotions more clearly.

-You are talking in riddles but well...Whatever...Why did you form an alliance with Luffy by the way ? I wonder how you're able to handle all of his energy if you can't even stand mine haha.

-Let me correct you ; I don't hate you. He stops for a moment then he adds. There is a man that I would like to kill.

You turn now, back against the wooden border of the ship. You had an amused look on your face, wondering who was that man that he wanted to take down ;

-Now that's interesting ! Let me guess, who is it ?

-You are quite curious yourself, (Y/N)-ya...

He thought it was only fair, you opened up to him, he opened up to you, but telling you the details wasn't for now.

-So you are using the strawhats ?

-I am not sure who is using who. And what is your reason for joing the strawhats ?

-Luffy, you said with dreamy eyes, it's the D in his name...I have been drawn to people with this letter in their names like a magnet...I don't know...I just believe it's fate...

He was startled by your answer, so you knew about the « D » letter ? He also had this letter in his name...He just added then, with a face that didn't betray his surprise ;

-Oh , a girl like you believes in such romantic stories ?

-And what is a girl like me like ? You added, amused. I mean, apart from annoying.

-...Quit it already.

His tone was stable as always. He didn't show it but he thought that it was cute of you, how you insisted and played along. You faced him, your eyes looking right into his and you weren't one to look down, oh no. Irisis into his irisis, looking for him and digging something into him. He didn't even know what you meant by such a look, once again, feline.

The salty smell of the ocean's water mixed with the odor of your fruity perfume made that moment a bit more enjoyable and he wasn't even the type of person to enjoy chatting.

Check mate, you made up for that horrible first impression. You added then ;

-You avoided my question by the way, why wouldn't I believe in « such romantic stories » ? What do you think you know about « a girl like me » ?

You got a bit closer, amused, and he thought that it was getting a bit dangerous. You had a fake woeful look in your eyes. His limbs were filled to the brim with that ocean perfume of yours mixed with that sweet taste, and for a second it was as if that odor operated some kind of spell over him, because a surprising thought occured to his mind ; what would your lips taste like ? Certainly salty like the ocean and a tad like peaches.

Unsettled and unfocused he said ;

-Shouldn't you be sleeping ?

In reality, he didn't want these thoughts to make a nest out of his head and decided to cut the conversation quite abruptly. Your rocked your body back, almost like a child and rose your eyebrows in a semi-sarcastic semi-dramatic way.

-I'm a bit too old for a bed time don't you think, Trafalgar ?

-Just Law.

-Yes yes ! L-a-w...See you tomorrow ! You're not as uptight as I thought.

-(Y/N)-ya.

He just said your name in a strict way, probably indicating that you needed to go. His tone was firm, stop teasing already.

You looked at him with a diminishing smile, pronouncing every single letter so slowly, stretching his name on your lips so that these three tiny letters seemed endless. You tossed your hair, and something about the whole situation, about your feminine charm, something about the breeze of the night made the both of you feel unbearable tension. The type of tension that happens between a man and a woman at three in the morning, that tension that makes every little detail, every look in the eyes, every brush of the fingers feel indecent.

The eyes of a woman can't lie, his ego was stroked as he thought he had a glimpse of your hidden desire.You turned to go back to the girl's quarters, his eyes still hanged on your silhouette. ----------- I hope that you liked this first part. Please tell me what you think. It is a great motivator to know that I’m writing and being read. <3 I wish you all a nice day !

#law x reader #law #trafalgar law #onepiece imagines #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #Trafalgar law x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #onepiece x reader

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thran-duils · 3 years

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From All Sides (P.1)

Title: From All Sides (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Pirate Tony. Tony is obsessed with a certain barmaid at port and showers her with gifts to try to bring her to his bed. She is resistant to his advances, her eyes elsewhere, specifically on her coworker, the cook. Although, that love is unrequited and always will be. The reader is forced into close quarters with Tony unexpectedly and sailing the sea, she slowly bends to his will. And he plans to give her all the affection he can to make sure she stays. Words: 2,279 Warnings: Eventual smut, violence, angst, possessive behavior Author’s Note: Song inspiration

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

It was loud tonight. As fall neared, it always brought more to port. Many were tired from long summer excursions and were looking for reprieve. At least it was nightfall now and the heat was melting away to the breeze of the ocean.

You were walking up the street back towards the tavern where you were expected back. Your boss Evan had sent you down to fetch the breads the baker was going to throw out to make sure there was enough for the crowd when they were ordering their meals.

“Miss Y/N!” A voice called out and you sighed, stopping. You turned, keeping the basket close you were carrying, smiling.

Adam was coming through the crowd, looking ecstatic to see you. He was carrying a bouquet of flowers and you felt your stomach clench. He was quite smitten and so very sweet; you were just not sure if you should commit to him. You had not found the way to get him to understand that yet, that you wanted some space, even with your polite declines to his dinners.

“Hot night,” he commented when he reached you. His smile was warm, his eyes alight at the sight of you.

“It is,” you agreed, matching his energy as best you could.

He held out the bouquet and said “I got these for you. I was hoping you would be at work though so I could ask to have dinner on your break?”

“I’m already on my break,” you lied easily. “Going back to work right now.”

His face fell. “Oh.” He recovered quickly, “Well, I will accompany you back?” He held out his arm.

Against your better judgment, you took it, allowing him to guide you. He was cordial, making small talk as usual. How someone as pure as him stayed at port was beyond you. But he had somehow found Peter too, just as kindhearted as him. The two of them made a pair. Although, Peter had been making an unsavory choice in alliance the last time Tony was at port... you had scolded Tony for a good ten minutes about how he should leave Peter be safe here at port and not on his dangerous voyages. If you were not mistaken, you had seen Tony jealous you cared so much for the boy.

The tavern you worked and lived at was packed. You weaved your way through the crowd, dodging people on instinct as they stumbled, Adam following your lead. You had worked here long enough to know the twists and turns of a drunken crowd.

Adam was close by as you moved behind the bar and he stayed by the entrance to the bar, waiting patiently. You left him knowing he would still wait, walking to the back, and handed over the basket to the cook, Eloise. She nodded in thankfulness.

You loved her smile, the way her lips formed. They were soft and you wanted to press your own to them.

“So many orders tonight,” she stated. “Tilda is doing well to keep them on the main course but there are others requesting other things.”

“Are we charging more for that?”

“You know it,” she winked. Your stomach fluttered at the gesture. “You better get back out there. Tilda is getting swamped! And poor Elizabeth is getting handled by a few tables. She needs to be more assertive, that girl.”

“I need to deal with Adam first,” you muttered.

“He’s back?” Eloise laughed, a twinkle in her eye. “My, he’s almost as persistent as Tony!”

“No one is as persistent as Tony.”

“He’s here, so you know. He ordered his usual dinner. One of the ones going off my menu!”

You almost groaned. You did not want to deal with his pawing on top of Adam’s doe eyes. Tony was easily provoked in his jealousness when it came to you, even though you had never let him between your legs, despite his best attempts to pursue you.

As you feared when you emerged from the back, Tony was hammering you to the spot with a piercing stare from the back of the tavern in a booth with some of his crew. He flicked his eyes to Adam before landing on you again you made note.

You had always brushed off his advances. Skirting around his smooth words and adjusting just out of the way where his lips were going to fall. Sometimes so close you could feel the brush of his lips against your jawline. He was a charmer.

Normally.

Tonight, he looked like a hangman, the way he was glowering at Adam. He already had a pint empty on the table and another by his bowl to replace it.

You liked Tony well enough — he was handsome, devilishly so — but it was Eloise you hung your heart on. Even if you knew she was never going to reciprocate the feelings. It was a terrible feeling to know that and still be invested. You wished you could turn your feelings to Tony even if you thought him fleeting.

Tony was known for being promiscuous and you thought he meant to get you in bed once and then be done with it. Despite all the gifts he brought you, trying to woo you, you could not help but to think he would easily discard you. Still... on the other hand, his persistence reminded you of Adam. He did not just bring you flowers either. He brought gems, jewelry, even a gown once. And not a cheap one at that. He was persistent in his chase and did not skimp on his treasures.

His last gift you wore now. It was beautiful. A seashell that seemed to glow in the light. It was on a simple cord but it was magnificent in its own right. And it settled perfectly on your chest. When he had given you it when he was here a month ago, he had been more than willing to be the one to clasp it around your neck. His fingers had flittered along your shoulder blades but he had pulled away at the last moment before you thought he was going to brush lower. He was persistent but he was also mindful to not push too hard; he did not want to lose you.

Sometimes you thought just the mere sight of you was enough to satiate him.

You pretended you did not notice Tony’s icy glare though, your eyes on Adam who was looking at you adoringly. You took the flowers from Adam and said, “I’ll put them in a vase in my room.” You took a long breath; he had actually remembered your favorites.

“I’ll bring more next week so you always have a fresh bouquet to look at,” Adam vowed.

“Oh, Adam. That’s not necessary,” you told him.

“It is for you,” he stated.

Tilda interrupted, coming in between the two of you facing you. “Hello, Y/N! Earth to you! I need help! The men are getting a little out of hand! You’re far more competent than Elizabeth!”

That poor girl. She still struggled with brushing off handsy men as she collected dishes.

You smiled at Adam over Tilda’s shoulder and said, “Sit at the bar. I’ll bring you a bowl of Eloise’s stew as soon as I can.”

He beamed at the offer as you turned around to put the flowers in a safe spot behind the bar until you could bring them upstairs.

<><><>

You had asked Tilda to take the booths, making sure to stay away from Tony’s booth although you had caught his eyes multiple times. He was not in good spirits, and you knew why. His gaze was layered with envy. Why did he have to come on the same night Adam decided he needed to try to court you? Adam had not left the bar stool yet and unlike Tony, his nose was not buried deep in a fourth pint, so he had a lot of life left in him. He was happy just to be in your presence.

Peter had joined him and was finishing his first pint. Great. You needed to keep an eye on him now to make sure he did not interact with any captain — especially Tony.

Much to your dismay though, his first mate made the plunge when you were away from the counter.

Steve had his arm around Peter’s shoulder, grinning friendly. Disgruntled, you quickly cleared plates, taking orders for more ale before coming back to the bar.

Steve met your gaze, grinning wickedly.

“Do you need to order something? Tilda was just at your table,” you said stiffly.

Steve shook his head. “No, no. Just following up with dear Peter here. He showed interest in sailing last time we were at port and he says he’s a fine cook. Ours could use an apprentice.”

“You can find an apprentice anywhere,” you snapped.

“Now, Peter, does she speak for you?” Steve asked, turning his attention to Peter.

Peter shot you a look and you saw him hesitating. It was an unfair position that Steve was putting him in. Peter respected you but he also knew the repercussions of if he let a woman make his decisions, especially in this crowd. And especially to a man who may be a ticket to his dream off this island.

Peter sucked his cheeks before saying, “You know, the room is actually spinning. Adam? Could you.... I think I need to go home?”

Adam read the signals quick and nodded, “Yes. Yeah, of course. I shouldn’t have let you have that second pint so quickly. Especially since you refused the delicious food from Eloise.”

The two of them stood quickly from their stools, Peter making quick to stumble a little before grabbing the bar to steady himself. He smiled at Steve and said, “Excuse me.”

Steve stared at him for a few seconds intently — he looked so disbelieving of Peter’s antics — before he smiled, “Of course. Go right ahead.”

He stepped out of the way and Peter met Adam before they made their way through the crowd. Adam threw a look over his shoulder at you and you gave a quick tight-lipped smile before turning your attention back to Steve who was watching you like a wolf.

“My my, you’ve just got your little claws in everyone’s hearts, don’t you?” He jeered.

“Do you need something?” you repeated, standing your ground. “I have tables to attend.”

“Two shots of rum,” Steve said, leaning on the counter.

You turned from him and grabbed the bottle and finding two glasses. You placed them on the counter in front of him and poured them out, his eyes searching. You corked the bottle back up and said, “Will they be on Tony’s tab...?”

“Hasn’t he given you enough treasures to warrant complimentary rum shots?” Steve pouted mockingly.

You ground your teeth for a few moments before waving him off. “Fine. On the house.” Steve winked lasciviously, “Much thanks, love.”

Annoyed, you turned away from him and went back to your business. The hours were doing nothing to calm the crowd yet and you begged for the impending witching hour and superstitions seeping into everyone’s psyches.

Handing some dirty glasses across the window from the bar to the back, you spotted your flowers in a vase again. You smiled softly, a moment’s reprieve. They were lovely. You leaned forward, eyes closed, and took a long inhale.

“If I knew picking a simple bundle of flowers by the shoreline would catch your attention so aptly, I would’ve saved myself a lot of trouble,” Tony said, barely above slurring his words from behind you.

You collected yourself before turning around to face him. He was leaning on the bar, slowly twirling his empty pint glass on its edge. He has long shed his coat, standing there in his leather vest over his shirt, unbuttoned just enough to expose his chest hair.

“Do you need water?” you questioned, trying to keep the condescension out of your tone and be concerned. It was hard knowing he had sent Steve up here to try to coerce poor Peter just to get into your sights.

Tony smiled broadly, looking charming as ever. You hated yourself for feeling the flutter in your stomach at it. “Sure. Thank you for being concerned for me, dearie.”

You turned and fetched him a glass of water and brought it over to him. He was close to you as he leaned on the bar, his eyes trailing down from your own gaze to your lips.

“I missed you all night,” he said, gripping the glass and bringing it towards himself. “It’s like you were avoiding me for that little pipsqueak.”

“He’s nice,” was all you offered, offering the new glass. He held out the empty and you traded him. His fingers brushed yours, longer than was necessary.

“Am I not?” Tony questioned, cocking his head.

“No. You’re very brutal — ruthless even. You’re only nice when you want something. Which is why you’re always so overly sweet to me,” you quipped without missing a beat.

Tony’s lips curled into a smile, staring at you with admiration. “I’ll always be sweet to you, love. Overly so too. Always.”

“Because I’ll always leave you wanting,” you quipped again, pushing away from the bar and walking off to go tend your tables, tossing his dirty pint glass into the bin.

“That necklace suits you. Still. I have matching earrings if you would just come to my cabin to collect them,” Tony called after you.

He would not be held at arm’s length forever. And you were not sure you wanted him to be.

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney

#tony stark x reader #dark!tony stark #dark tony stark #dark marvel #au marvel #my shit

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venusdeus · 3 years

Text

Court of Kings - Chapter 2

Summary: Sent to a neighboring kingdom to secure an alliance, forced to give up your dreams and ambitions, disregarded as a means to an end. You however have no desire to fulfil their wishes. And neither does Oikawa.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x female reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy, angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers au (more like enemies to allies to friends to lovers), eventual smut maybe?

Word count: 2165

Warnings: All the characters are adults unless specified. This chapter is sfw. Minors do not interact.

Notes: This is part 2. To start from the prologue, you can use this link.

Chapter 1 <...> Chapter 3

You prided yourself in not expressing your thoughts or your emotions on your face and having full control over your body language. In this situation, you thought, it was certainly a blessing. You did not want this man to read your thoughts even though hawk like eyes of his that were focused on you made you think he could.

“A very beautiful garden indeed.” Oikawa remarked for a second time that night, his hand resting behind his back “We do not have this many varieties when it comes to plants up north. It is rather cold there, especially when compared to here.”

The ball was still going on inside the palace walls and the music that was filling the rooms still managed to reach your ears no matter how far in the gardens you went. You two were thrown out together after the first few minutes into the reception, suggested, or more like ordered, by both parties to take a walk in order to get to know one another. Followed by royal guards and an entourage of maids and butlers of course. Thankfully, other nobles that would usually be following you, such as your ladies in waiting, were not present thanks to the ongoing event inside. Never truly alone as it wouldn’t be proper. And you never did something that wasn’t proper. Or at least when someone else could see you.

“As you mentioned previously your Highness.” You replied looking ahead. It was not because you were scared that you did not look at him, or so you tried to lie to yourself, it was because you concluded from his rather rude entrance that afternoon that he disliked you. A man who had disgust and anger written on his face before just as he was supposed meet his future betrothed was not a man worth knowing.

He went as far as not to speak unless spoken to when your family decided to give him and his company a tour of the palace that afternoon, your father being absent of course. And even your normally chatty brother trailed hiding behind you, not daring to talk to him. Oikawa looked too broad, too much like a giant next to his sickly form. His hand never left his sword either. Did he not know what a grave insult he gave you when he behaved as if you were after his head, you wondered. You would not blame him of course, not like you did not know the strained relations between the two countries. But it was rude, nonetheless.

The only interaction you had that day before the ball was limited to greetings and if you counted it, walking next to each other in the halls. In the evening, a dance to open the ball. And that was it until now.

“Princess,” he started as you winced at the name, he did not even bother to use your proper title when addressing you “I heard you also had an exquisite greenhouse. Would you be so kind to show me? I am quite curious.”

You finally decided to look at him, fully expecting to see the previous icy expression on his face but found him to be surprisingly smiling. No, maybe not a smile but a smirk, you thought, the kind that gives you shivers and makes you speechless.

You were certainly not stupid. Nor blind. Since the first time you laid eyes on him that day, you knew that all those rumors about him were true. He had a face that looked like it was painted by the master artists of the past, an angelic feeling to it. He was also tall, towering over you or even the guards. The ladies gushed about how lucky you were and how regal he looked.

If only he did not have that God awful expression on his face when you first saw him, you would have been as starstruck as the Palace staff. It was evident that he made up his mind about you before he even met you. So why should you try to get to know him.

“It would be my pleasure.” you answered turning right towards the greenhouse. You have passed it once or twice every week in your walks but you were never allowed in when the gardeners were present.

He did not speak again until you both stopped at the gates of the glass building. That's when he turned towards the staff and the guards that were following you and addressed them with a voice so sweet that could catch vermin.

“If you could please give her Highness and me a few minutes to tour inside I would really appreciate it.”

It was such an inappropriate suggestion that you could feel your face getting hot with anger. You knew he was rude, but you did not expect him to behave with the manners of a dog. It was no secret that he had done countless things you did not dare voice with other ladies or even commoners in places that seemed innocent enough until he was left alone with them. But to taint the reputation of a royal with such suggestion was another thing.

One of the wives of a southern Duke even recalled one evening, after the announcement of his upcoming visit, that one of the most magical nights she had was at his library at his court, giggling while you sat at the same round table as her, playing cards not even a meter away. It made your stomach turn and not just because of the story, but because of the look she gave you afterwards. It reminded you of the smug look your father’s mistress gave you whenever your paths crossed.

You couldn’t stomach the thought of having a similar faith wherever you went.

One of the butlers, god bless his soul, opened his mouth to object but was quickly shut down by Oikawa’s honey voice.

“The path inside looks very narrow you see. And I am not used to being in such a humid and small space with too many people. I can promise you that we won’t take longer than five minutes.”

In hindsight they should have not let him get away with such proposition. But he was the crown prince of one of the strongest kingdoms in this part of the world and he was also to be your future husband. You were not betrothed yet officially but it was as good as done. If it wasn’t they would not even be invited here.

Or maybe, you should have refused his request or asked only two guards to follow you. But one look at his face and your curiosity was peaked. You wanted to know what he wanted to achieve with such a risqué favor. So, you followed the wolf to its den. If any of the nobles heard of this, or god forbid your family, you would be as good as dead. But you could always order your maids to keep their mouths shut. You could never trust anyone to not talk of course, but a threat could do the work.

“I am bit of a botanist myself.” Oikawa said just before the doors closed behind you.

You couldn’t properly see your surroundings as the only light inside came from the moon shining above the tall glass ceiling, and sadly it was not enough to illuminate your path. Oikawa on the other hand was behaving as if he owned the place itself, walking ahead of you, only turning once to check if you were still following him.

“Though it is mostly a hobby.” He continued, finally stopping in front of a cactus like plant with lovely white flowers and turning to you.

“I am guessing you did not ask to come here alone just to talk about your botanical knowledge. What is it that you want to know?” You asked with a cold tone just as your eyes started to adjust to the dark setting.

The corners of his mouth lifted into what could be called one of the most sinister similes you have seen so far before he chuckled.

“I’ve been told you had a kind and warm disposition but that you are very naïve and certainly not very bright.” He said seizing you up.

You knew of your reputation. What other people did not know, however, was that this reputation of yours was created by non-other than you. Carefully thought of and highly fabricated. The life was easier when people did not expect much from you. It also made it easier to listen in on conversations. Afterall, they did not think you would understand or care. But something about Oikawa aggravated you so much that your delicately built facade crumbled into pieces in seconds.

“And I’ve been told you are a very handsome, intelligent and proper gentleman. What a shame we’ve been both lied to.” You replied before taking a step towards him as if to challenge.

He let out the first genuine laugh since his arrival at your rebuttal, his head tilting back. If it were any other person, they would be insulted at your words, but he seemed to be amused.

“What a shame indeed.” He answered also stepping towards you. “Truly disappointing.”

“Is it what you wanted? A naïve, dull and ignorant wife?”

“Is it important what I want?” he pondered crossing his arms.

“A submissive wife than.” You replied “Let me rephrase that. You needed a submissive and naive wife. For what reason may I ask?”

He acted as if he did not hear your question, opting to not even acknowledge it “If we are to come back to the topic at hand, you are right your highness. I wanted to come here alone to see your true character. I know firsthand how exhausting it is to play pretend with others around.”

“And what did you find?”

“That you are very spirited.” He said moving closer.

“Thank you.”

“That was not a compliment Princess.” He stopped a step away from you.

“Anything you deem disappointing in a woman is a compliment to me.” You replied closing the distance between you two, your bodies only inches apart. He seemed to be taken aback for a second before his eyes narrowed and he turned his head towards the plant you were standing next to.

“Selenicereus grandifloras.” He sighed.

“Huh?” the unladylike sound left your mouth over your confusion before you could stop yourself.

“It is also known as the ‘queen of the night’ for it only blooms once every year at night before its petals wither before the morning. We must be extremely lucky.” He elaborated tilting his head towards the fully blossomed flowers. “Even the most beautiful and spirited of flowers cowers when the light shines. Do tell Princess, where will you be once the morning comes?”

He inched towards you, bending down until his face was directly opposite of yours. It was the most indecent position and against your better judgement you were at a loss of words over it. The humidity inside felt ten times worse than it was as you could feel his hot breath on your face. He was so close that you could smell the soft leather, citrus and cinnamon in which you did not know if it was coming from him or from all the greenery around you. Only thing you could think was one wrong move and your noses would be touching. He seemed to be thinking the same as his gaze fell on your lips before he took a step back.

“Because I do not know where you will be your Highness, but I can tell you where you won’t be.” He scoffed “You won’t ever be standing next to me. You certainly won’t do.”

Turning his back, leaving you stunned and stuck he walked towards the path you took just a few minutes ago.

“I can tell you this with the uttermost confidence. You will never rule beside me. I will never marry you.”

And with that, he was gone.

Finally an interaction? Reblogs are appreciated! And also this was not edited I posted it right after writing it so if you see any mistake let me know.

I would love it if you could give me feedback! Thank you!

Disclaimer: No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without permission. I do not own the character of Oikawa Tooru. This is a work of fiction.

TAG LIST: Let me know if you want me to tag you. If your name is in bold it means I can’t tag you.

@sassyglassesbunny @triskoof @m-a-r-i-a-s-b-l-o-g

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imagine-loki · 3 years

Text

Hiding In Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 9

AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE:Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé. You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies? RATING: General Audience

NOTE - I finally got my ass in gear and finished something, thank Loki.

Raven paced worriedly. Her family were to arrive today, meaning she would be required to reveal herself to Loki, and all that entailed. She prepared herself for whatever was to come. Her most likely scenarios, she surmised, was being ignored and given the silent treatment or being met with anger and confrontation until he said his piece, then being given the silent treatment. Neither were something she was looking forward to but she fully expected one of those to occur.

She prepared her belongings again so to stop herself from fidgeting too much in stress. Sadly, it did nothing to assist her but she needed to do something as she felt she would go insane waiting otherwise. She toyed with her fingers a lot, pinching the skin in her hands, something she was prone to doing when stressed.

When she heard a loud roaring noise, she jumped, having gotten herself so highly strung that she had not expected the loud noise and had caused a dramatic reaction as a result. She rushed to her window to see what had occurred and gulped when she saw the banner of the Light Elf royal family making their way from the Bifrost site across the bridge and towards Asgard. With a deep breath, she readied for what was to come.

Loki ignored the pageantry he knew was heading to the city. He heard the Bifrost and, like Raven, went to his window to see who was coming, unlike her, his room had a balcony but he did not use it, especially when he did not want anyone to see him. He knew his mother and father would call for him soon so he made his room impervious to their seidr and locked himself in while they met the Ljósáfar royals. It was petulant and juvenile but he simply was not in the mood. He would need to build up the effort to deal with the whole situation.

He felt when his parents attempted to make their way through his defences, their momentary pushes on his seidr but over eleven hundred years of knowing their son, they knew that he was not going to be reached through such means. They did not even bother to try and open his doors physically, he had learnt to lock them manually by the time he was three hundred and not in the mood for others, so instead, Frigga placed a note under the door simply telling her son that he was to be to the main hall in half an hour in some capacity or another before he embarrassed himself and Asgard.

Scowling, he tossed the note aside. He knew this would not be when it mattered but the dinner declaring their imminent marriage. He wanted to conjure a clone to do it but he would have to kiss Raven’s hand at the very least and they would not be able to do such. Gritting his teeth, he prepared for what was to come.

* Raven tidied her clothes and looked over herself in the mirror. She looked as well as she could, considering she was inwardly panicking more than she thought was healthy. She had not slept properly for some time thinking of how Loki would react and the guilt that she felt as a result of deceiving him which conflicted terribly with the feelings of anger and resentment she had for him saying the things he had said about her, unknowingly to her face. She felt terrible for being deceitful, she genuinely did but it conflicted so greatly with her own feelings from how he spoke of her. She didn’t know how to deal with it, but when the knock came on her door to inform her that her family had arrived, she was forced to no longer fret about what was going to happen and instead, have to live through it. Inhaling deeply, she straightened her dress and began her way to the main hallway to meet them.

Seeing her family speaking with the Aesir royals, Raven smiled slightly as she walked forward. Her brothers noted her and nodded politely as they were always trained to do. It was not commonplace for Light Elf royals to openly show affection so she was not upset with a lack of reaction to her. When Frigga noticed her, she smiled encouragingly at her, though there was clearly a slight worry in her face too. It was only when Raven stood beside them did her parents notice her. She waited patiently until they finished speaking to the Aesir royals with a polite smile she had been trained to do since before she could even remember.

Thor, who had been speaking with her brothers, watched diligently, noting how the male offspring of the Light Elves spoke freely whilst Raven remained silent. He had known that she had been very vocal and strong-minded when she chastised Loki for his wrongdoings, so he wondered how she was both so timid and meek in appearance with her family, yet so able for his Silvertongued and formidable brother simultaneously.

“Raven.” Her mother acknowledged her first. “I hope you have settled alright.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Thor could only frown. With no others bar the two families there, he could not fathom why she spoke so formally with her own parents but he could say nothing as it was not his place to do so.

“And your betrothed is currently under the weather, we hear?”

Raven had not been told of any such excuses and she had actually seen Loki the day before from her window, pacing on a lower floor clearly discussing something with his brother and he had not seemed unwell. “I am afraid so. But he will undoubtedly be joining us all soon again.” She looked to Thor who shrugged ever so slightly, telling her that he too had not been aware of such excuses.

“It was my doing,” He confessed. “I may have been less than careful with our sparring yesterday and struck him to the side of the head too hard, he is feeling dizzy and such as a result.”

“Good Heavens.” Raven’s father shuddered. “I could only imagine the damage such a strike would inflict from a lad such as yourself.”

With nods of agreement, a motion to one of the smaller rooms was made so that everyone could converse more intimately.

For three hours, Raven eyed the door carefully whenever the opportunity arose, wondering when Loki would finally join them and in turn, cause issues but there was no sign of him. Her parents and brothers seemed to not take any notice and spoke at length with the Aesir royals, all while Raven merely nodded politely and smiled, only injecting herself into the conversation when forced to by Thor or Frigga. Odin, she had come to notice from her time in Asgard, was a lot like her own father, more focused on his more direct heir than his other child/children. In many respects, it taught her a little more about Loki. He referenced his son but not as he did Thor and by Norns, did it show. She felt that was ironic. They had more in common that Loki could know about since he had not bothered to even attempt to find out.

All through the time they spoke, she wondered why Loki had not turned up. Part of her suspected that he had realised who she really was and wanted nothing to do with the whole charade, which she would not be able to argue in many ways, but then again, she did not know that he had, he also struck her as the type to very much make it clear he did not like being tricked in any manner. Over and over, she played out different reasons for him not being there in her head, but all that she was able to conclude was that he was nothing more than a petulant child, having a tantrum in his room rather than actually facing the situation. He was not the only one forced into the situation yet he had not the manner nor the courage to actually face it.

When her parents and brothers went to settle into their rooms and prepare for the feast that would come that evening, she walked with them to their rooms quietly. Her focus was entirely on finding Loki and having the argument that she knew needed to come. She hated conflict but there was no manner in which she could avoid this one and it needed to happen soon. All she could conclude is that Loki, a smart and naturally mischievous being himself had arrived at the correct conclusion as to who she really was and was not happy with being tricked. Saying nothing and bowing as her parents and brothers entered their rooms, she walked back to the royal wing with Thor by her side.

“So, what is the truth?” She asked him.

“I have to say, I do not know. I have not seen my idiot brother since yesterday. He was ranting that I am not yet betrothed and he has to be and how unjust such is. Of course, if he got his head out of his rear end for a few moments, he would see what is happening around him, but that would mean he had taken more than a moment to focus on something that is not him and that will not be occurring.” Thor sighed. “He usually has the sense to not embarrass himself in front of foreign dignitaries in such a manner, I have no idea why he decided to start today.” “I guess I better find out,” Raven stated, looking forward, readying herself for what was to come.

“Do you require assistance?” Thor offered. “No, thank you. You are at risk of a blade.”

Thor nodded slightly. Loki was prone to attempting to stab him when he got angry with him.

“He is no risk to me. His words cannot hurt me. After all, I have heard everything he had to say and at worst, he will spit similar again and then go silent.” “Most likely. I am close by if you want my assistance,” He offered.

“Thank you but I will be fine.”

Thor walked on to his own rooms when she confirmed that she felt she would be fine. Though he was slightly concerned, he knew behind the peculiarly quiet manner in which she interacted with her family, Raven had the ability to take care of herself verbally.

* Raven readied herself to confront Loki. She changed out of the clothes she had met her parents in to something more comfortable but even more beautiful. She took a moment to look over the dress. She had taught herself how to make it while she waited for her parents’ arrival and for the wedding in her days of boredom. Bored and wanting to learn new skills, she had a maid get her some material and she sewed. Some of the seams were not entirely perfect but she thought it was beautiful and making it herself made her feel all the more proud of it. With a ribbon in her hair that matched it perfectly, she twirled once more and walked out of the room, inhaling deeply as she readied for what was to come.

She walked to Loki’s door with purpose, looking at it apprehensively for a moment before inhaling deeply again and knocked, making a mental note to herself to not keep inhaling so deeply, as she would make herself light-headed if she continued to do so. When Loki’s maid that she temporarily replaced opened the door, she cocked her head slightly, not recognising the elf on the other side. “Hello, can I assist you?” “I must speak with His Highness.” Raven smiled kindly.

“Regarding?” “His betrothed.”

The maid’s eyes widened. “Of course.” She seemed to be readying to open the door for a moment before she paused. “I am not sure if Prince Loki will accept such a request. He…”

“Is scowling in his room, refusing to open the door and growling incoherently on occasion?” Raven wagered.

“I...How could you…?” The maid was bewildered at how she could ever know that. “Know that? I just do.” Raven remembered when of the days that Loki arrived back to his rooms when she was disguised as his maid and did such after Thor and his friends had caused him to be dragged into a situation he had not been involved in and for some reason, he seemed to have been forced to have to shoulder more of the blame than they had when they had been the ones that did the deed and he had not. He stormed into his rooms and would not come out for a few days. “I still must speak with him. I know he is in no want of company but I still must speak with him urgently.” The maid moved to the side and opened the door fully with a facial expression that read as ‘good luck’.

“Thank you.” Raven walked over to the bedroom door and prepared herself for what was to come before knocking on the door the same way she had when she had been pretending to be his maid.

She had not known if Loki would actually acknowledge her knocking. She half expected that he would ignore her.

“I do not think…” His maid began.

Her words silenced when the door glowed green before opening. “Tatianna, be so kind as to retrieve my books from the library master, please.” Loki requested politely.

“Of course, Your Highness.” She curtseyed slightly with a large smile and rushed out of the room.

Raven’s brow rose at the kind manner in which Loki spoke to Tatianna and her relaxed demeanour in return.

With the door closed, there was a moment of silence between the pair. Loki looked over Raven’s dress and being in an analytical manner while Raven looked at Loki waiting for him to begin his tirade at her fooling him.

“I always suspected there was something off with you.” Loki declared.

“You are a warrior, you would be terrible or dead if you did not have a sense of when something is off.” “I hate liars.” “And I hate those that are two-faced.”

“Same difference in this case,” Loki growled eyeing her suspiciously. “I think it farcical for a maid to call me two-faced when I am sure you broke multiple records with the speed you rushed to your mistress with my words.”

Raven paused for a moment replaying his words in her head, realising after a moment that he had not actually realised what was happening. “I actually never ran to anyone at all or even said anything to anyone about your words outside of Prince Thor.”

Loki froze to the spot. “Thor?” “Your brother, future King of Asgard, Thor.”

“Why Thor?” He demanded.

“What concern is it of yours?”

Loki walked over, towering over her. “Did she honestly decide to speak to my brother about me? Have her little spy go to him with all the dirty details?” Raven was used to Loki’s moods so he did not concern her too greatly, but had she not been so used to him, she could easily have been intimidated. “It’s Raven, not ‘she’.”

“I’m sure she cares so greatly about that.” “I do, that is why I am correcting you, yet again. I have told you time and again to use my name and stop calling me ‘she’ or ‘her’, yet you still insist on not saying it.”

Loki’s brow furrowed at her words before the realisation came to him. His mother’s insistence in speaking with her when she saw her looking upset in the garden, Thor’s peculiar reaction on seeing her. “You’re not her maid.”

“I told you I was not.”

His eyes widened at the confirmation. “You’re actually her.”

#Loki #others #submission #submitted fic #wolfpawn #Hiding in Plain Sight #Chapter 9

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vegalocity · 3 years

Text

The Interrim-Red Groom AU

So i’m diving backward into the ‘Dont worry about it’ pool after that finale

SO DON’T EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT YOU GUYS WHO’S UP FOR MORE PRINCESS BRIDE AU?

I had to make an entire scene up because for the Story to keep going Princess Bride Style Red Son needed to get fucked over one more time

Soon enough three days time had passed and Red Son was ready to make his escape. Due to the nature of his ruse against the prince he hadn't made any arrangements to set up a forge or workshop for his passions, so he didn't have much by way of equipment to make his escape, and every day the prince asked to join him for at least one meal, wherein he would 'politely' ask over Xiaotian, claiming to want to know a little about the man whom had stolen his groom right out from under him.

He said these things in jest and laughter, but Red Son was no fool and could easily see the flint behind his eyes, ready and willing to twist any information Red Son gave about Xiaotian against him, to try and convince him that his beloved wouldn't take him back. Willing to take whatever details he gave him and put them in some falsified letter of rejection in attempt to make him believe his love wanted him no more, so he wouldn't put up a fight any longer.

So he lied. He spoke of not the Inn that he'd met Xiaotian in, but implied he'd always been the lord of his mountain. How they hadn't been able to be engaged due to his parents having a letter of neutrality between his family and Xiaotian's own, and how he'd had to go on a perilous journey to nullify that arrangement, but they'd believed him dead. He told him Xiaotian favored poetry, and was in fact a gifted shapeshifter, preferring a more human appearance like himself as it made travel far easier when people underestimated you.

The prince had soon grown bored of his prattling, and Red Son found it almost ironic that for once he was not speaking of tinkering and his projects when his conversational partner stopped listening. After those meals scarce as they were, the prince ended up straightening his back primly and claimed he had a meeting of some sort with his macaque general, and left him to his devices.

So now here he was, ready to make his escape.

It took actually took the longest time to try and pare down an outfit from this place so that it would be inconspicuous enough to use for travel, but he'd managed, sneaking some nonperishable food and a spare dagger into his pack for preparation and extra protection had been easy. He just made it seem to the servants that he was still anticipating the response to a letter that was never sent, and eagerly awaiting for a letter that would not exist that stated his return to Xiaotian's mountain was expected, and thus was slowly yet steadily prepping for the journey. The pitying glances he could sense the servants shooting him definitely told that they were aware of the fact that he was being 'tricked'.

But Red Son paid them no mind, after all, he knew the prince was full of lies, and he was going to be gone before the night's end anyway.

But then Red Son was summoned for his usual meal with the prince, and he willed his nerves to freeze over. He couldn't let his plans slip, while he'd long since regained his strength form his injuries in the forest he was only one demon and there was a mountain of servants and guards that would be standing between him and making a break for it if he didn't have stealth on his side.

“Beloved.” The prince greeted him as he entered. “My messengers have returned from their trip.” In three days time? How oblivious did he take him for?

Nonetheless he perked up, did his best to look eager and excited. He was never quite sure if he looked convincing, but he just needed to pretend for a few more hours.

The letter was brought right over to him, and he quickly undid the seal to reveal a message that in no way was written by his love. Though they did a good job at pretending, claiming it was written by 'his mother'—Xiaotian had never spoken of his biological parents, and his adoptive ones were both men, but in his prattling Red Son had invented a mother for his fake backstory—and that she was writing in 'her Son's stead as he was too upset and angry to be able to make a readable response. Going on to say that Xiaotian had returned to 'their mountain' in tears and had sworn that this was one too many cruelties Red Son had delivered him, and that he never wanted to speak to someone so two faced he convinced him twice of their supposed love only to twice have his heart ground into the dirt by him ever again.

It was well phrased, he'd give the prince that. It even stung a little when the supposed 'mother' had regaled that 'Xiaotian' had bitterly given 'his blessing' to his impending marriage. The thought of his love, bitter and betrayed, felt so wrong his heart hurt just at the idea.

But he couldn't let himself linger on that lest he lose his courage.

“This cannot be...” he breathed, hoping beyond all hope his knowledge of the deception read as simply denial.

“Is there something wrong?” The Prince asked around his cup. “Surely your beloved made it home safely.”

“This cannot be...” he didn't know what else to say without possibly giving himself away, so he could only hope that it sounded like shock.

“Beloved?”

He stood, he had to get out of the prince's sight before he failed to properly mask his knowledge.

“This is a lie! She... She never approved of us!” Red Son hoped at least that gave his reaction plausible deniability.

“Didn't you recently just regale to me that Xiaotian's mother loved you as a suitor for her son?” He cursed internally, but before he could scramble to cover the lie the prince continued. “Beloved, I know it must be hard to hear, but we had an agreement. Xiaotian wants no more to repair what he believed you threw away, his mother;s missive reveals as much. You gave me your word that no matter his desire you would respect his choices. Don't be selfish, love.” Red Son would be lying yet more if he claimed that that didn't sting a little.

But he'd get to that bridge when he got to it, so he turned on his heel and stormed from the room. The servants gave him a wide berth as he marched towards his rooms, face fierce but mind preoccupied with escape plans.

So preoccupied in fact he didn't notice a particular shadow following behind him.

Upon reaching his quarters he made sure to scare off any staff that would rat him out and began to scream, his fire coursing and bursting out from his body in waves, scorching the furniture around him and leaving piles of soot to build up atop his shoes. Soon enough the room had enough damage for word of his fury to have been carried to the prince, and the servants far too afraid to make their way in for quite some time. He'd have about an hour of being given a very wide berth before someone came in to check up on him.

Red Son darted for his bed and hidden among the luxurious blankets was his makeshift bag, he double checked the contents inside and nodded to himself when he came to the conclusion that everything was in order. Then he approached the writing desk and reached beneath it. Feeling around for a moment he grinned slightly to himself as he pulled out the small bottle. He'd always gotten praises in potion making, but this wasn't a potion that would make his tutors proud. He didn't NEED any magical properties in it, he just needed it to be flammable.

Which it was.

Just as he went over his plan one more time the shadows in the room seemed to flicker, and Red Son felt strikingly cold despite the amount of fire he'd just unleashed.

“I told him you were more clever than he was expecting out of you.” The voice startling him and nearly causing Red Son to drop the potion in his hands, he scrambled with the glass bottle and turned to the source of the noise.

The Six eared macaque had appeared in his room, how had he gotten in there without him noticing?

“Oh... I uhm...” He didn't have a lie prepared, Red Son's mind raced to try and come up with a plausible excuse but improvisation was never his strong suit, he would so quickly grow flustered and frustrated and usually do himself in so how could he be expected to lie convincingly on first bout?

“Don't waste a perfectly good lie trying to cover up what we both already know.” The macaque stated, a sort of boredom in his voice that made Red Son stiffen. “You know the letter was false, you know what the prince has planned for you.” The macaque took a step forward and Red Son prepared to fight him, but remembered after a beat the fire resistance charm he'd had on his person scant few days ago. He likely had it on him right now.

“I love it, he can't stand it, but I love it... Of course that also means his plans are a complete waste of your talents as far as I'm concerned. If he hadn't planned that whole 'spider queen and her ilk' situation Your lover wouldn't have found out until it was too late, and we probably could have convinced you to go to war if he'd just been a bit more patient.”

“You're talking an awful lot for someone who supposedly is on his side.”

“I'm on MY side, highness.” The macaque said easily. “The Prince is no one to sneeze at, but then again, neither are you. Tell me, should I endorse this little sneak about and help you escape? What would benefit me from not telling the prince about your little explosive and your plans?”

He racked his brain for a moment. “I can tell my parents of your assistance in enabling my escape, they'd no doubt give you the same power you have here, accompanied by my family's resources you'd find yourself with more force behind yourself than you'd know what to do with. Or if I told Xiaotian he could do the same at his own mountain, he's not exactly a nobody either-”

That second part was a mistake, by how the macaque's expression darkened. “Yes I know He's the 'New Monkey King'. Sun Wukong's Body double.” He stated simply. But before Red Son could take it back or just ensure alliance with his own family, he found his arms being restrained. A pair of clones made of shadow clung to his sides and while they dispersed quickly under his fire it was only for a moment.

Then there was a golden glow, and his arms all at once felt very heavy indeed as a cold pair of cuffs—the second set of wrist cuffs that the macaque had shown him- how had he forgotten about those?—activated and forced his wrists together. The magic quickly worked its way through his system again and he felt a cold shudder wrack up his spine.

“Your 'beloved' was quite loose lipped once I got him going on the machine. Don't hold it against him, highness, I haven't met a single man that could hold up against that level of pain.”

for a moment the words didn't process in his head, abut when they did any other thought flew right from his head.

There was only rage.

It was pathetic really, how quickly he'd been apprehended, how his fire had only a moment outside his body before once again being turned back round onto him, and his body—now remembering the pain he could do onto himself—forced his magic to cease. There was no instinctual blaze to shatter the cuffs this time, because he realized as more of the macaque's shadow clones pinned him down, that he didn't believe him.

There was no way that Xiaotian had been this monster's plaything. He had learned whatever it was he'd implied he'd learned through other methods, maybe as simple as recognizing Flower Fruit Mountain and Xiaotian had to explain the situation to him.

But If it was just his own escape the macaque was stopping then wouldn't he have not wasted the time in toying with him like that? Wouldn't he have just told the prince and been done with it? Put the cuffs on him without the monologue? Why would he waste his time in trying to trick Red son into believing him possible to sway?

Unless-

Unless he'd heard about Xiaotian planning on coming back for him himself

He almost wanted to laugh even as the clones forced him back to his feet and the Macaque crushed his liquid fireball in his hand. He was unsure if anything could make him as fearful or angry or whatever feeling it had been to make him break his restraints again as they did back in the forest, but it explained his knowledge of Xiaotian's identity, as well as his anger, and his attempt to trick Red Son. To test to see how far Red Son was willing to go to to defy the prince and follow his own heart.

But that didn't matter.

Xiaotian was coming for him.

It was a bitter medicine to take, to have to once again rely on his love to save him, rendered with naught but his intelligence on his side and left close to defenseless with these stupid cuffs back around his wrists, but He'd make it up to him.

For everything Xiaotian had done for him and how thoroughly Red Son had proved himself unworthy of such devotion, Red Son swore then to himself, that once this was all over, once he and Xiaotian were safe he'd make it all up to him. For every moment for the rest of their shared lives together.

Because when he saw him again he was never letting go.

–

“Captain I've heard rumors that the Monkey King is planning on killing my groom.’”

“My prince I've heard no such rumors-”

“Are you implying my spymaster lies to me?”

“Of- of course not my prince! What must be done to protect your groom before the wedding?”

“I'm currently having my beloved moved to a safer, more secure room in the palace to ensure no harm shall befall him before the wedding date, and we're moving the wedding itself up a few days. Go to the village and nearby forest, and the closest town, and round up all with former criminal histories. I want every possible hired gun behind bars by the time of my wedding in three days time.”

“Three days time your highness? Such a feat would require more men than we have at our disposal at the moment-”

“Then form a brute squad! You have my clearance! I want my prince safe from all harm! If He dies, then we'll have no choice but to go to war and we lack the men for such an insurgence against the Monkey King! I would have to go to his parents begging for assistance and that is not a bar I am willing to lower myself to!”

“Yes your highness!”

“Go! Waste no time!”

“Of course!”

–

Xiaojiao stared into the bottom of the jug of wine. Drained, just like all the others.

Her head was pleasantly fuzzy and the wine in her blood buzzed comfortably. It was a familiar state, she wasn't dependent on intoxication, but when she was at her lowest she would often find solace in the buzzed pleasantness of a good bender. Because here she was again.

No work, no leads, no friends.

Spider Queen had told her if they got separated that she should go back to where 'it started' i.e. The inn they'd gotten the job at. So she'd rented a room, and spent the next few days waiting, and when it became clear neither the Spider Queen, nor even Sandy were turning up, when Xiaojiao was made aware that she was well and truly alone, she blew most of her money on as much wine as she could get her hands on and began to chug.

She felt much like the scared twelve year old she once was, clinging to the handle of the Jade Sword and telling herself it didn't matter how terrified she was, as she HAD to fight. Her scar twinged at the memory.

At least no one would sell wine to a twelve year old. She didn't USED to be this pathetic when she was lonely and sad and on the verge of despair. She used to have other avenues to vent it all when it became too much.

Someone could storm right in right now with news on finding the Six Eared Macaque and Xiaojiao couldn't even be sure if she'd believe them for how despondent she felt.

“Long Xiaojiao?” A voice broke her reverie. Xiaojiao blinked blearily up at the tough looking fellow before her.

“Who wants to know?” she slurred.

“You've been arrested twice for assault and once for theft, as a security precaution all with criminal records are behind detained for the next three days by order of the prince.”

She scoffed. “I'd like to see you try, buddy.” Her fingers felt heavy but she lifted the sword easily.

Her form was off, her limbs felt loose and limp, but she still held her own against the brute's clumsy axe swings. It would be pathetic to lose to this chump.

But before the fight could be solved one way or another, a pair of blue hands wrapped around the brute's torso and lifted him into the air.

And Xiaojiao was met with a very familiar (if blurry through her impaired vision) red bearded smile.

“Sandy!”

“Xiaojiao! So nice to see you again!” Sandy set the brute down but kept hold of his torso. “This is the friend I told you about captain, she's far more dangerous alone than she is with me. I'll keep her out of trouble, I can promise you that!”

She loved watching Sandy loom. The aura around him making anyone who didn't know him reel back as every alarm in their brains fired off danger signs. His pleasant grin and tone didn't change but to the people around them that was more frightening than before.

“Just mark her name right off there and I can handle the rest!” Sandy chirped and the shaking brute did just that, stiffly turning and marching out of the inn.

“Sandy you old bastard.” She cooed delightedly as Sandy shifted his focus back onto her and she felt the cool blue hands wrap around her own torso before she was pulled into a hug.

“You smell like wine, Are you okay, Xiaojiao you don't drink unless...-” Sandy shot her a far too knowing look.

“I've been better buddy, I'll admit.”

“Well, If it helps I've heard a lot of rumors and seen a lot of things as part of this little 'brute squad' some things that might interest you.”

“Hm?” She leaned into Sandy's embrace, her friend really gave the absolute best hugs.

“I think I found the Six Eared Macaque.”

Xiaojiao wasn't sure if it was disbelief, shock, sudden crashing cresting hope, or just the wine, but she suddenly got very dizzy.

And then everything went black.

#Monkie kid #LMK #Princess Bride AU #Red groom AU #MK Red Son #Six eared macaque #Long Xiaojiao #MK Sandy #Vega writes stories too #-shuffling Season 2 thoughts under the rug-#it's fine it's fine who wants some princess bride as a distraction?#it's fine it's fine #spicynoodleshipping

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xwing-baby · 4 years

Text

Ascent of the Emissary: Practice

Series Summary: A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away…The FIRST ORDER have announced themselves to the galaxy and are set on destroying the Galactic Alliance. A young woman, born and raised in the rich Order sympathising society, on the planet RAELA, meets her supposed sworn enemy in a crowded marketplace and comes to a crossroads in her life. Does she follow the path laid out to her by her FAMILY or does she carve her own, JOIN THE FIGHT against the Order and BETRAY everything she’s ever known.

Word Count: 3.3k

Chapter Summary: After a surprisingly good evening with Hux, Kyla is more confused than ever, but maybe Rafan can persuade her to join the resistance...

Warnings: Fluff!! bit saucy?? mention of guns

<- Previous chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter ->

If I was ever conflicted before about my feelings, I was now in a whole other dimension. I had somewhat convinced myself when I was hanging out with Rafan that I would never feel any sort of sympathy or liking towards the First Order. I was with the resistance, I was going to fight for freedom. But last night, Armitage had made me question myself again. If someone so headstrong and certain could work for the First Order and be so passionately for the cause, how could it be so wrong. Hux was kind, sweet even, a gentleman through and through. He was exactly the sort of man I had always dreamed of marrying, and quite possibly, if I didn’t have the devil in the form of Rafan sat in my ear, I would. I felt so guilty that I felt like this, flip-flopping between two sides but what both of them failed to see was the good in both. I could practically hear Rafan and Ben berating me for even thinking there was good in the First Order, and I felt bad for thinking it myself, but surely there had to be a good reason the Empire had succeeded before.

I shook my head, I couldn’t let my judgement be clouded by one kiss. It was one dinner that I had to go to for my mother’s sake more than my own. Hux’s behaviour last night could not excuse the actions of the Order.

A rattle on my balcony door suddenly awoke me from my thoughts. I jumped up from my bed and peered around to see what was going on. A click of the lock, and I stepped back, reaching for the nearest hard object I could.

I stood still, holding my breath. I could see the handle twitch, but from the angle I was stood at I couldn’t actually see through the glass. The handle jiggled more and another click before the intruder tapped on the glass.

Cautiously, and against all better judgement, I stepped forward to see the invader. I sighed in relief as I saw it was not a murderous stranger, it was Rafan. He smiled awkwardly when I came into view and pointed at the handle and shrugged, making me laugh. The door was always sticky.

I unlocked the door, with the key on my bedside table and let him in. He looked a little more dishevelled than usual, a fresh bruise was forming on his cheek and his hair was wilder than usual. He wore his usual jacket, though it was in need of a wash now covered in dust. He had definitely been in a fight recently, but I didn’t ask.

“What are you doing? Get inside, before someone sees you, you lunatic!” I exclaimed, pulling him inside.

“You didn’t turn up yesterday so I figured I’d come find you instead, and seeing as this is the way I got in last time… you really need to lock your windows you never know who climb up here next,”

“You are the only one on this planet stupid enough to climb up a wall to go through the window,”

“Stupid, or extremely handsome and athletic?”

“Stupid,” I said plainly, “Why did you want to find me? I’m sorry for not showing yesterday, I was busy with my mother,”

“We’ve got more training to do!”

“Isn’t there a real reason you’re on Raela or is just to recruit me?”

“I am doing my job, don’t you worry, but you’re more fun than Ben right now, so let's go!”

“Go where?”

“Just trust me, you’ll enjoy it,” Rafan peered the objects on my nightstand, picking up the small gold figurine and inspected it for a moment before I took it from him and placed it back down.

“Trust the guy who just broke into my house for the second time?”

“You did before!” He smiled and instantly all resolve melted away.

“You’re not wrong,” I shrugged. Rafan chuckled

“Come on, Princess, put your boots on, we're getting out of here!” He exclaimed, making me laugh. I sat on the edge of my bed and pulled some boots on. One shoe on, I looked up as he had gone quiet. Rafan was stood at the door

“Wait, no where are you going?”

“Well I assume there's a more conventional way to get out of this house than the window, I was going to go there,” He said dumbly, gesturing down the hallway.

“You can’t just walk through my house! My family is down there,” I ran in front of him, pushing myself between the door and Raf’s body, shutting the door. “I’ll meet you down on the road. You can climb back through the way you came,”

“Fine!” He grumbled.

“Don’t be such a baby, you climbed up, you can climb down. Besides, it’s that or meet my father and neither of us want that,”

“Fair point,” He grimaced, only really half joking, and walked back to the window he had entered from. I smiled and sat back down to put on my remaining boot. Rafan climbed over the window ledge. “Be quick,”

“See you in a minute,” Rafan called as he jumped down into the street. I laughed quietly to myself as I turned back into my bedroom. How did this ever become my life?

I dug out my boots from the floor of my closet, pulled them on and went downstairs. The plan was to slip out quietly and not be bothered, but that is always nearly impossible with multiple droids and an overbearing mother in the house.

“Kyla, you have no excursions scheduled for today, where are you going?” SAM interrupted my escape.

“Just going to get some air, Sam. It’s a beautiful day I thought I could go to the park,”

“I will have to clear this with Mrs Olen,”

“Clear what with me? My mother appeared, having heard the droid complain. “Boots? In the city, dear? Where do you think you’re going?” I sighed heavily and ignored them both, as I reached for my cloak.

“It’s cold, and I wanted a change. It could be muddy in the park and I didn’t want my shoes getting dirty. I’ll be a few hours, don’t worry about me,”

“Kyla,” My mother protested.

“I’ll be safe, don’t worry,” I promised already half way out the door. The droid flapped her arms in the air in despair but walked away. My mother shook her head.

“What has got into you these days?” She sighed, but turned to walk away. I smiled wide.

“Thank you! I love you!” I called before shutting the door. I was free.

I quickly spotted Rafan across the street, leaning against the wall of another home with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. He smiled and pushed himself off the wall when I approached.

Together, we walked to the city limits where a small transporter waited. Rafan grinned.

“So I’ll get the gear, you can start it up and wait for me,”

“I- uh yeah of course,” I stuttered, forcing a convincing smile on my face. Rafan, too excited to notice, ran off in the opposite direction and threw the keys at me as he left. I’d never been in a transporter like this before, and I had never started a ship, ever, of any kind. I looked at the key, then the door, then to Raf who was dipping into a small wooden building. It couldn’t be that hard, right? If the resistance could do this kind of thing, I definitely could.

I stepped closer to the ship, looking for a button or a switch to open the door but luckily it seemed my presence was enough and the door hissed open. Step one, done! I stepped inside the small vehicle and looked around. The ship could hold a few people, a set of benches in the back, covered in filled duffle bags on one side, then the cockpit with two full seats. I slid into the right side chair and was met with an overwhelming board of buttons and switches. Some were flashing green or red and there were weird symbols on others. there were switches and dials and a screen in the centre with a string of numbers running over the top. I had no idea where to start and was to scared just to press a button and find out what it did. I just sat and stared.

“Is there a problem, Kyla?” Rafan called from outside, startling me from my daze.

“No,” I yelped.

“I told you to start it up, you didn’t have to wait,” He threw the bag on his shoulder into the back and leant over my seat.

“Ah, well yeah I didn’t want to burn all the fuel,” I lied, hoping he would believe me.

“You don’t know how, do you?” He asked as a grin grew on his lips.

“N-no of course I do-,” I stammered.

“Oh my stars!” He laughed, “Come on Princess, every teenager in the galaxy knows how to drive one of these! How do you not know?”

“I’ve never had to drive myself anywhere!” I exclaimed, sitting back into the seat quickly in frustration, “We’ve always had someone else!”

“Seriously?” Rafan raised an eyebrow.

“Uh huh, I’ve never even been off planet,” I admitted rather sheepishly.

“No way, I don’t believe you,”

“My father doesn’t enjoy visiting other planets,” I explained.

“Understandable, given his line of work,” Rafan grimaced. “Well, let’s switch. I will be your chauffeur, for today,” I switched seats, sitting in the co-pilots seat and Rafan settled into the pilot’s.

“Thank you,”

“Does the lady require any additional services for the journey,” Rafan teased, copying my accent.

“No thank you, just drive will you?”

“As you wish,”

I watched with slight envy as Rafan switched the vehicle on, the engines kicking into gear instantly. He flipped a couple of switches across the board with ease, as if it was just second nature, and away we went. If I didn’t feel out of place with him before, I definitely felt it now. I was starting to realise there were a lot of things I had missed out on thanks to my upbringing. Apparently flying was the next to be added to that list.

We flew out of the suburbs and through little villages, until we came to the wide expanse of the farmland that sustained Raela City. Rafan stopped beside a small fruit orchard and landed with ease.

“So are you going to tell me what we’re doing out here yet?” I asked as I followed Rafan out of the ship into the orchard. It was harvest time so the trees were full of fruit and the sweet smell filled the air.

“I thought we could do a bit of blaster practice. It’s pretty much an essential,” Rafan explained as he set his bag down on the grass.

“Blaster practice?”

“Yes, why do you have a problem with that?”

“No! No of course not it’s just I actually don’t need practice,” I said, Rafan raised an eyebrow, “I am the Raela City competitive shooting champion, under 18 record holder and the best marksman within city walls,”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” He scoffed, walking over to a tree to hammer the first target in. I rolled my eyes and ignored him.

“If you’d told me what we were doing I would have brought my blasters, they’re much nicer than these,” I fished one out of the bag with a finger. It was rusty and the paint was chipped badly. The blasters were old models too, at least ten or twenty years old.

“Well this is the real resistance experience for you then, Princess,” Rafan smiled sarcastically and took one of the blasters from my grasp.

“Ok then, you can go first,” I

“Just watch,” Rafan stepped up and aimed at the target. He waited a moment, squinted his eyes a little and fired. The shot hit the edge of the board, politely I clapped and he took a little bow. “Beat that,”

“With pleasure,” I sang. I stood up, took the blaster from Rafan and stood to the line. I centred my shot, and fired with ease. The shot landed dead centre.

“A lucky shot,”

“Fine, I’ll do it again, I’ll step back a bit too. Watch.” I stood to the mark and took four large steps backwards, lined up the shot and it struck the target in the same place, the plastic target now with a hole burnt through the centre.

Rafan’s jaw dropped, he looked between me and the target then back to me.

“No way,”

“I may not be able to pilot a ship, but I know my way around a blaster,”

“That’s incredible!” He exclaimed.

“Thank you,”

We continued for a little while longer, Rafan and I taking it in turns shooting the targets. I hit each one perfectly, no matter the distance. Raf hit most of them but was becoming increasingly frustrated as he missed, he tried to play it off but with my tenth perfect score he audibly grumbled and pouted. It was adorable really, and made me very proud that I could beat him at something.

“Quit pouting and I’ll teach you okay?”

“I don’t need your help,” He grumbled

“Look, just try again, there's some things you could do better,” I smiled when he stood back up at the line again.

He raised his blaster with one arm and I stepped up close to his body to see what he was seeing down the barrel. I put my own arm up under his pushing it just a little higher. It was nearly impossible to concentrate once I registered his breath on my neck. The heat made goose bumps on my arm, I was far too close to him. There was no need to be this close, practically pressed up against him like this, but here I was.

“See, just a little higher,” I whispered, “You want to aim a little left,” He moved his arm a little, getting it into the perfect spot. “Perfect, now fire,”

The blaster fired and hit the target directly in the centre. I smiled proudly, dropped my arm and turned to face Rafan. His free arm was resting on my hip, and he smiled happily down at me. I could feel my face go red as he looked down, between my eyes and lips, and leaned in closer. His eyes were full of intense emotion, swirling pools I just wanted to dive until and let his darkness drown me. A rush of confidence came over me and I met him in the middle.

His lips were soft and full, as I crashed against them. He was frozen for a second, then dropped the blaster in his right hand, brought it round to my side and deepened the kiss. Butterflies erupted in my stomach and I smiled into the kiss, leaning into him. My hands travelled up his back, up his neck before settling at the nape of his hair gently playing with his hair.

It was like the whole world melted away, it was just us.

Rafan deepened this kiss, swiping his tongue on my lip to open my mouth. I obliged and slowly walked us backwards until my back was pressed against the trunk of one of the orchard’s trees. A few leaves got in Rafan’s face making him release me and swat them away. I giggled and my heart swelled as I noticed the blush on his cheeks and the stain of my lipstick on his swollen lips. Rafan smirked and leant back down to kiss me again.

Suddenly, a shot rang out from across the orchard and hit the target behind Rafan. We jumped apart and quickly turned to where the shot had come from. My heart rattled in my chest, suddenly very aware of the fact we were out in the open with two blasters and no one knew where I had gone. I looked to Rafan, who had already reached his previously forgotten blaster and had it ready at the possible source of the shot.

“So this is where you bunk off to?” Ben suddenly appeared from behind the ship, a smug smile plastered on his face. He spun the blaster on his finger before tucking it in the back of his pants. I clutched my chest and sighed in relief.

“Ben! You can’t do that!” Rafan yelled, throwing a stick at his friend

“I can, because I just did,” Ben laughed. “Oh the look on your faces!”

“Very funny Ben,” I snapped sarcastically. Of course the only time I’ve actually been able to kiss Rafan, it was interrupted.

“So what were you up to, apart from making out?”

“Just teaching Kyla some blaster moves,” Rafan said

“No, I was teaching him actually!” I exclaimed. Rafan pouted, making Ben laugh

“Yeah I can believe that, Raf’s got the aim of a stormtrooper,”

“Hey!” Rafan exclaimed, giving his friend a slap on the shoulder. Ben hit him back.

“So has he taught you anything?” Ben asked.

“Not that I didn’t know already,” I shrugged.

“She is really good,”

“Best marksman inside Raela city,” I boasted.

“Really? Well I am the best in the resistance,” Ben pulled out his blaster from his back, “So let's have a little competition,”

“I mean if you’re sure, I wouldn’t want to show you up,”

“Oh Princess I think I’ll be just fine,”

And so we began. Rafan reset the targets and we began easy with the same drills that Rafan and I had been running before Ben arrived. When those got too easy we increased the distance and decreased the size of the target. Unfortunately the blasters ran out before a true winner could be crowned, much to Rafan’s delight as he was getting very bored by our undying competitive nature. Ben promised a rematch and we packed up.

Ben went back to the city on the speeder he came on, leaving Rafan and I alone once again. Rafan flew us back to the city, the tension between us becoming almost too much to bear. I couldn’t think straight, all I could think about was the damn kiss! I wanted him on me again, I wanted to feel his hands all over me! Rafan landed in near where we had started the day, neither of us had said a word.

We both got up, neither of us wanting to leave or know what to do. I just watched him as he pretended to fuss with the bags. The noise of the hanger outside was muffled through the walls, I knew the moment that I opened it the moment would be lost.

I opened my mouth to say something but I was stopped by Rafan as he launched himself at me, kissing me fervently. I felt like I was melting, all the anticipation throughout the ride back was being pulled out by Rafan’s mouth on mine. I sighed and ran my fingers up his neck to his long hair, tugging on the curls. He groaned and pushed me back to the wall.

I broke the kiss, my heart racing against my chest. Rafan grinned and kept his arms around my waist, neither of us moving from the wall still barely an inch between us.

“I wish I could just keep you here forever,” He whispered.

“We’ve both got jobs to do,” I reminded him, though I felt the same way. The world just felt better when I was in his arms.

“Screw ‘em,” Rafan kissed my cheek, down my jaw, making me laugh.

“I wish things were different,” I sighed

“So do I, but,” He continued down my neck making me whine, “This wouldn’t be as fun, would it?”

He was right, the danger of being caught was exciting! Rafan returned back to my lips, kissing me once more before stepping away, letting me go.

“As fun as it is, Ben will kill me if I’m gone any longer,” He sighed.

“That is true,” I giggled, “I should get home too, my mother will be waiting for me,” I stepped past him, and jumped down the small ledge to the ground. “See you later,” I called back as I walked away, hardly containing the grin on my face.

“Hey Kyla, hold on you forgot something!” Rafan called after me, jumping down from the ship. I stopped and looked back, confused as I knew I had everything with me. Rafan caught hold of my hand and pulled me back into him, kissing me once more. My heart melted, I pulled back after a moment and giggled. “Alright, you can go now,”

He jumped back into the ship and disappeared once more. My cheeks were burning up as I looked around becoming embarrassed by the amount of people that had just seen. But I was smitten, I didn’t care who saw. I practically skipped home, the beige stone of the city seemed brighter, cleaner, everything felt good. I wanted to shout from the rooftops. I kissed Rafan!

Finally something good was happening, something all within my control and that I had chosen myself. For the first time in my life I felt in control of my own life, I could deal with everything else now I had Rafan! Everything was about to change for good.

this is a rafan stan account now okay? I LOVE HIM

tag list: @dracos-jedi-marvel @buckysbeloved @cajunquandary @brujaporfavor @waatermelon-sugaar @anstarwar @this-cat-is-dea @seafrost-fangirl @grincheveryday @dindjarinsleftvambrace @girlreadsfanfic

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ijustwant2write · 4 years

Text

All Because Of A Tantrum-Sigurd Ragnarsson x Reader x Ivar Ragnarsson

(GIF credit to @heathenarmyimagines and @honestsycrets)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Possessive Ivar x Fem!Reader x Sigurd, please?’

Summary: (Y/N) and Sigurd have been married for a short time, all for an alliance between their families; she is a wild spirit, which Sigurd loves to tame, but Ivar can’t help but let her be free.

Characters: Sigurd Ragnarsson x Reader, Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Slight smut, swearing, jealousy, possessiveness, fighting

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had all been because of a tantrum from the infamous Ivar the Boneless. Anyone would think from that sentence that Ivar was a child, but unfortunately he was a young man, the brother to my husband.

Sigurd and I had been married for just over a month, and that is exactly how long we had known each other for. Like most marriages for people with a higher status, it was arranged by our parents, but I had grown up around this all my life. I was not bothered by it. If any man thought they could control me, I would like to see them try, and come out unscathed. My parents knew of this, they wouldn’t have married me off otherwise.

Sigurd was a good man, arrogant at times but by the gods, the sex was good. And I couldn’t complain, he was kind to me. I thought myself to be a good wife in the public eye; yes I was challenging, but where was the fun in being good all the time?

“And where do you think you’re going so early?” I grabbed Sigurd’s shoulder as he tried to leave the bed.

He sighed in content.“I have other things to do than fucking you, you know.”

I shoved him.“Fuck you, you’re supposed to be making love to me.”

“Oh yes, sorry, forgot that it was my brother that did the fucking.”

I giggled.“Still jealous, even after the agreement we made.”

“Do you think husbands like their wives being taken by other men?”

“Well, a lot of men do it, so I guess they are completely fine with it.”

He smirked at me, pushing me onto my back. I hummed in amusement, wriggling underneath him until he kissed me. I had him in my grasp, wrapping my legs around his waist tightly, pulling him towards me.

“You’re too sneaky for me.” Sigurd mumbled, not protesting against my hold.

“And you always seem to fall into my traps.”

“My temptress.”

After spending a majority of the morning with Sigurd, we finally emerged from our home into Kattegat. Sigurd went off to train, kissing me one last time before joining his friends in the forest. No more attention for me, how boring. As an idea popped into my head, I smiled to myself, heading to the great hall; there was definitely going to be someone there that would want to see me. Ivar had a soft spot in my cold heart. He was misunderstood, different, had strong opinions (that could make him sound like a crazy man), and that interested me. He wasn’t like everyone else, he was special. Aslaug and I shared that image of him.

However, as I entered the hall, he was nowhere to be seen. I called out his name, walking around. No reply. Huffing, I walked back outside, asking a guard if they had seen him. They informed me he was training in the forest, and my heart beat a little faster. If Ivar was with Sigurd, with weapons, it could only end badly, perhaps with someone getting hurt. This was the usual for me, having to split up their fights before it escalated too much. I rode my horse to their training grounds, gradually hearing the clashes of swords and grunting over the horses hooves hitting the ground. Once it was tied up next to the other horses, I picked up my skirts and ran towards the men, groaning when I spotted the two men doing exactly what I thought they would be.

“Shut your mouth!” Ivar shouted, gripping onto the axe in his hand.

“Now I understand why (Y/N) needs me to fuck her so much, you’re obviously not satisfying her. I was sympathetic towards you, thinking my wife might make your life a little better.”

“Urgh, are you two ever going to stop this?” I moaned as I approached them.

Their brothers and friends laughed under their breaths, knowing that I wouldn’t hold back. And they wouldn’t dare snap back at me.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here?” Sigurd asked.

“I can always sense when you two are on the verge of killing each other. Sometimes I think Odin put me in your lives to keep the four Ragnarsson’s alive.”

“Perhaps you are a goddess on Earth.” Hvitserk cheekily remarked.

“Would that really be a surprise?”

Ivar’s tone was calmer, though there was still spite.“Your husband seems to want to spread lies about me. Tell him the truth.”

“About what?”

“About bedding you. How I can make you scream louder than Sigurd could.”

I sighed.“You both fuck me just fine.”

The men laughed, Sigurd and Ivar staring at me in disbelief.

“Maybe I should remind you, prove you wrong.” Ivar snarled.

I rolled my eyes, already walking away.“Anything to keep you two away from each other.”

The men became rowdy after this, and I could hear Ivar dragging himself after me. The power I held was amazing. Men always bragged about how great they were, how strong and powerful they could be, yet here these two men drooled over me, fighting for the most attention.

“Why would you say that?” Ivar snapped once we made it back to Kattegat.

I flopped onto the cushions sprawled over the rugs on the floor.“Ivar, it does not matter what I said. My plan worked.”

“What plan?” he was now laying beside me.

“The plan to stop you two killing each other. It would be devastating to lose either of you.”

“You would mourn over me for longer.”

"Do not boost your ego anymore than you already have." I smiled, filling over to face him.

He stared at my eyes."What do you see in my brother?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you love him?"

"Yes, I do."

"Do you love me?"

“Yes.”

“You are lying.” he scoffed, shaking his head.

“No I’m not. Why would you say that?”

“Why would you love a cripple when you are already married to a regular man?”

“There is no such thing as a regular man.” I started, propping up onto my elbow.“All men are bastards.”

“I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”

“Ivar, why should love be restricted? It never has been in our history. I cannot contain my love for just one man. I bedded many men before I even met Sigurd.”

“I thought you were a virgin when you married Sigurd?”

“My parents still thought I was. It would crush father if the dowry were low.”

That made Ivar laugh.“I wish it were me you were married to.”

“You would grow bored of me.”

“I believe that the Gods wanted to torture me by putting you here with my brother.”

“Of course not. You are being over dramatic.”

“I should have had you.” he held my hand.“Sigurd doesn’t deserve you. You would have been more of a queen by now if I had you!”

“I am yours. Just because I have been united with your brother, does not mean you can’t have me, or take me whenever you please.”

“I am Ivar, son of Ragnar. I am a prince! I deserve you, you are mine!”

Scooting closer, I laid my head on his chest, shushing him gently. I could hear his heart beat racing, pace of breath quickening as he worked himself up.

“Yes, you are. You deserve everything and more. And just think, everyone will know your name once you and your brothers defeat Aelle, avenging your fathers death!”

“They will be under my command.”

“Yes.”

“I will prove my brothers wrong, I am strong enough to do this!”

“You already are.”

“(Y/N), I want you to bear my children.”

I lifted my head, surprised by his statement.“Ivar, I don’t know how Sigurd would feel-”

“You said you loved me, you said your love was not restricted!”

“Yes, but I would still have to ask my husband. We have to ensure that your heirs wouldn’t set out to kill one another.”

“I don’t care. I want to see you pregnant with my child.”

“I am going to ask him.”

“Fine. But just know, I don’t care what he says.”

I had not slept with Ivar that day. Usually when he got worked up like that, he would let out that pent up anger on me (which I thoroughly enjoyed). Instead, we laid together for hours, talking about everything and nothing. It was extremely rare to see this side of him, even I had hard time getting it out of him. You had to savour that emotion from it, it made him more human.

His brothers returned from training, all of us sitting down to eat lunch together. It was peaceful as we ate, there were no arguments; one or two snide comments were thrown at each other, but they were brothers, it was normal. I left with Sigurd, arms linked as we silently walked home. Although Sigurd agreed to share me with Ivar, anyone could see he hated it. They despised each other, despite being brothers.

“What happened with Ivar today?” Sigurd asked as we entered the house.

“If you’re asking if we fucked, then no, we didn’t.”

“Good.”

“You made an agreement-”

“I know.”

“You’re both so jealous of each other. All you need to do is think of me, I’m your happy thoughts.” I smirked, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He sighed in content as his hands went to my waist.“I’m not jealous.”

“Just promise me you won’t end up killing each other when you form this Heathen Army.”

“We are sons of Ragnar, we will live forever.”

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alleycat97 · 4 years

Text

Before There Was Us

Pairing: MC x Kamilah

Tag list: @themaskedanon @onyxgaytrash @kamilahslittlehoe @kelseyapperson @lightning-fury @beyondthenakedeye28 @wildsayeed @scarlet-letter-a0114 @mrskamilxh if you want to be added or removed let me know!

...

It was just a typical Thursday night for Kamilah, number 107,328 to be exact, but who was counting? There was no more days to her. She didn’t live by a calendar anymore, there was no need, the sun rose and set each day, nothing more or less.

Kamilah typically came home from work to work, a solitude she grew use to in her many years of being alone. Except a horrific cough coming from her master suite made her alter her typical plans.

She entered the room and set her eyes on the source, Amy. Amy, the mortal, the one who came into Kamilah’s life and completely stole her heart and ran with it. The young woman had Kamilah bad, something the vampire was trying to come to terms with after being alone for over a century.

She sat down on the bed next to Amy and instinctfully placed her hand on her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible. I think I’m dying.” Amy winced as she tried to sit up, Kamilah holding her down.

“No. You need to relax and rest.”

“I’m tired of being here...” Amy whined causing Kamilah to laugh.

“Well I don’t want to tell you I told you so, but what did I say?”

Amy groaned recalling the other night. She wanted to go bar hopping with Lily but Kamilah insisted she stay in due to the rain and flu going around. Amy insisted she was immune and went anyway. After the 4th bar and way too many shots later she was stumbling around outside waiting for Kamilah to pick her up...in the rain.

Amy just slid further into the bed in defeat not wanting to admit that Kamilah was right, she would die before she would let her have that satisfaction.

Kamilah just laughed and kissed Amy’s forehead before rising to leave. “I’ll be back in a bit, I’ll just be in my office.” She couldn’t be too hard on her. She knew what the culture was like today and young adults of Amy’s age all did these things. Except it was very different from when she was that age, she just wanted Amy to be happy.

“Kami?” Amy called out in a tone that usually gets her anything she wants.

Kamilah stopped in the threshold, “Yes habibti?”

“Can you tell me about Egypt?”

Kamilah made her way back to the bed, she knew it would come eventually, but didn’t really want it to, not wanting to recall the past.

“I don’t know Amy. It was so many years ago. I don’t think I can recall it.” She lied crawling into the bed to join Amy who instinctfully latched on.

“Please....” Amy insisted.

“Ok let’s see...Well you know of my twin brother and being Cleopatras cousin.”

“Was she your first cousin?” Amy asked.

“Well then we didn’t call them that, but yes. Her father, the one who gave Lysimachus the horse, and my mother were siblings.”

“That’s so cool! Tell me about Cleopatra! I bet you guys were like partners in crime!” Amy said getting excited.

“Well early we were pretty close. Especially when my mother passed. We would play by the Nile with the other children. Cleopatra even talked me into wrestling against the boys.”

“So that’s we’re you get your tough act from.” Amy replied.

“Cleopatra was the more exciting one as kids. She was older than me but she was smart and cunning and would do anything.”

Kamilah took a minute to just sit back and enjoy the memory’s. “A lot was expected of us even as children. Her father, Ptolemy Xll was very strict. We did have fun but we also worked like any other. He went easier on Cleopatra because he was her favorite child.”

“What about your father?” Amy inquired.

“He was a General for the Army. He was always away fighting and one day he didn’t return. Lysmachus, wanting to be like father, joined the army and went off to fight much to the pleasure of Ptolemy. He took me into the palace and I was an assistant to Cleopatra.”

“Was Eypt violent?”

“Not particularly. If anything it was flourishing. Ancient Eygpy however, is a different story. We had chores yes, the men had to fight, but we were prospering, especially under Cleopatra.”

“Tell me more about her.” Amy said shifting slightly.

“Well Cleopatra was actually from Greek descent. She could speak 7 languages and everyone loved her because she embraced Eyptian culture and opened trade to many Arab nations.”

“So if she was the favorite? What happened to her?”

“Well when she turned 18, her father passed away and she took the throne. Except she had to share it with her younger brother Ptolemy Xlll. They were forced to marry and rule.”

“Oh gross!” Amy squealed. “That’s nasty.”

Kamilah laughed, “It was very common among nobility. He was 10 at the time.”

“Ewww. Please skip this part Kami.”

“You know I was engaged then as well.” Kamilah set the trap, feeling Amy tense, she loved when Amy got jealous.

“Kami. I said skip this part!”

“Oh relax, I’m just teasing. Anyway, after Ptolemy got older her forced Cleopatra and myself out of the palace and took over as ruler.”

“What did you guys do then?”

“Julius Caesar...”

“Ya’ll fucked Julius Caesar!?” Amy said cutting off Kamilah, bolting from her sheets.

“If you would let me finish please, no we didn’t. Well I never did but she did however, but not at this point anyway. He came to the palace and she snuck into the palace inside of a bedroll.

“How did she do that?” Amy quizzed.

“Who do you think rolled her into it?” Kamilah sighed face palming.

“Oh. Right.” Amy said blushing.

“Anyway. She made an alliance with Caesar and the two formed an Army and defeated Ptolemys Army at the Nile. Ptolemy tried to escape and drowned. She took back over the throne.”

“I’m getting bad bitch vibes from her.” Amy awed. “That’s when I officially became Nomarch.” Kamilah added.

“What happened to Julius?”

“He and Cleopatra became an item and she birthed his son Ceasarion. Together she ruled with her son.” Cleopatra visited Rome but always declared to keep Egypt separate.”

“Did Caesar like that?”

“It was merely a political alliance. Caesar needed the grain from Eypgt to feed his people, Cleopatra wanted her throne back. She seduced him to get what they both wanted. She was extremely intelligent.”

“Did she ever speak of Rome?” Amy asked.

“I was there. She took me with her.”

“What!!!!! No way!”

“It was beautiful. The culture, the architecture, it was like a complete other world. But it was also scary and chaotic. The country was on the brink of civil war with the thought of Ceasar becoming the Emperor. Fear lined the streets.”

“Then he got stabbed.” Amy recalled from history class.

“Very good Amy, yes he was murdered and Cleopatra and I returned to Eygpt where she later met Marc Antony.”

“Oh he sounds hot.”

“Oh...he was.” Kamilah smiled remembering. “He was just a smart and witty as Cleopatra, a perfect match.”

“Wait...so who ruled Rome after you guys left?”

“Antony, Caesar’s great nephew Octavian, and Marcus Lepidus, know as the second triumvirate. They hunted the liberators, those who killed Ceasar and formed the Roman Empire. Antony took control of Rome’s eastern provinces, alas, Eygpt.”

“So then he and Cleopatra fell in love?” Amy asked.

“Yes. The three rulers wanted more power and Antony married Octavia, Octavian’s sister, to calm the tension and show his commitment. But he kept up his affair with Cleopatra and had three kids with her.”

“So what were you doing while this was happening?”

“I just served alongside of Cleopatra with the other Nomarchs. I was in charge of a province and I spread Cleopatra’s influence in it.”

“Was it fun? Being so important?”

“Well I don’t know about fun. I had important decisions to make that affected peoples lives.” Kamilah recalled having to make tough decisions that helped shape her into the woman she is now.

“So back to Cleopatra, what happened to her and Antony?”

“Well they decided to strikeagainst Octavian to gain control over Rome that broke into civil war. Antony fought Octavian three times and was finally defeated after all of his men deserted him.”

“They left him?”

“Battle after battle, Antonys much larger Army left him and he was finally defeated without a fight.

“What did he do then?” Amy inquired.

“He fled. He was going to be captured so he ran. He received a letter that Cleopatra was dead, which in reality she locked herself and treasure into her mausoleum. Antony stabbed himself however he didn’t immediately die and found out Cleopatra was alive. He made it to Egypt to see her and eventually die in her arms.”

“Ah how romantic!” Amy cried. “True love!!”

Kamilah continued her story, “With Antony dead, Cleopatra sent Octavian her official word to abdicate her thrown in favor of her son and then took her own life once word had spread that Octavian was coming for her and her treasures to parade her around Rome as symbol of triumph.”

“How exactly did she die?”

“Snake poison.”

“I hate snakes.” Amy said shivering, placing her head in Kamilah’s lap.

“Then Octavian had Caesarion killed and he finally cemented his legacy as the first emperor or Rome and the one and only rightful son of Julius Caesar.”

“Oh. Poor guy. How old was Cleopatra?”

“39.”

“What did you do when you found out she died?” Amy asked.

Kamilah started rubbing Amy’s hair with delicacy,

“I cried. She was like my big sister. I was off training troops when a Roman Legion attacked us. We wouldn’t submit and then I met him...”

“Gaius...” Amy started with anger.

“He attacked and killed all of my soldiers and that’s when he turned me and brainwashed me. We immediately left Egypt and I never returned.”

“Omg Kami...I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok now. I was young and dumb then, I was 34 when I was turned.” Kamilah laughed revealing her age.

“Well we should go back and visit.” Amy said yawning.

Kamilah never thought about it. Eygpt was a special time in her life, she never had anyone to share it with. Maybe it would be fun to go visit and see how much has changed. “I think that would be a great idea Amy. Amy?”

Kamilah said as she stopped rubbing the girls head and watched the younger woman sleep in her lap. She easily removed her head from her lap and quickly got up to change before rejoining her and holding her close.

“Goodnight Habibti.” She said kissing the back of Amy’s neck.

#playchoices #pixelberry #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #a courtesan of rome #acor marc antony #acor cleopatra #acor julius caesar #kamilah sayeed x mc #bloodbound #bloodbound 3 #bloodbound 2 #kamilah sayeed fanfiction

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writingfordayz · 4 years

Text

See You There, -K

Ever since Lance almost died on a mission, Keith's been on edge and more rash in his decision making. When he doesn't know who to turn to to help sort out his feelings, he starts sending messages to a dead Shiro in hopes of finding peace; however, Lotor attempts to turn the team against him by manipulating the messages into a sign of betrayal.

“That’s it. I’ve let this go on long enough. You cannot continue making reckless, unauthorized decisions,” Allura scolded Keith as he peeled off his helmet. He was barely even listening while the team gathered around him, his mind constantly replaying the explosion he’d just nearly escaped.

“Keith?! Do you have anything to say for yourself?”She pushed as Lotor took a fortifying place by her side.

“I did what I had to do.”

“What you had to do? You broke formation to fly headfirst into their battleship! The plan was to board and secure, not destroy!” Although Allura was the only one yelling, it was evident by the team’s worn out faces that they were tired of his bullshit.

It’s hard to notice little things in the heat of battle when your heart is beating in time with the blasts and your brain is on autopilot, merely trying to finish the job alive and with little recollection of the destruction, you leave behind. Keith’s usually good at tuning everything out, but this time, the formula was off.

Keith’s heart had completely stopped and he became agonizingly aware of the fact that Lance was stuck in a tractor beam with a canon about to sign his life away. Lance never radioed for help, never informed the team of the cannon for fear that he’d ruin the whole plan, and he must have struggled in the beam’s grasp for a good two minutes before the weapon was fully charged, but it only took Keith a second register what he was about to lose and decide to plow his lion into the metal mid-blast. Screw the plan. If Lance wasn’t here, then what’s the point of anything?

Even now, Keith could read the guilty expression on Lance’s face as he tried to sink to the back of the crowd and go unnoticed. Just three weeks ago, he’d confided about his uselessness to Keith, in his ability to fuck up missions. Through tears and bloodied fists beaten desperately against the wall, he begged to be worth anything, even if it were just for a moment. Keith felt helpless then, not good with words and definitely not good with knowing how to handle someone crying, so he settled on a hug that lasted several hours and a humming that brought sleep. They hadn’t talked about that night since, but Keith vowed to never let Lance blame himself for anything again.

Looking Allura straight in the eyes, Keith confidently explained, “I thought the cannon was going to destroy the castle. I had to stop it. As for unauthorized decisions, last time I checked, I was the black paladin. I’m the leader here, so I call the shots.”

Lotor sighed loudly, feigning regret. “I really didn’t want to disrupt your family, but I think it’s best you know the so-called ‘black paladin’ has been lying to you all for months now.”

That comment struck a new fear in Keith, one he never imagined he’d have to face with his closest friends in earshot. He’s lied to all of them at some point, but always because it was better than the alternative. On top of that, he knew how easily Lotor could poison them with doubt; he chose his words carefully and only attempted it if he had evidence. It had worked on Keith before, but he felt the deception internally was worth the alliances they gained throughout the galaxy. A war can be fought with six soldiers, but it can’t be won.

Allura’s loyalty to Lotor was unwavering as she gripped his arm and picked up the accusation where he’d left off: “It’s true, he’s a danger to Voltron… a danger to the whole universe. We can’t let this go unnoticed.”

Keith was beyond irritated and beginning to panic now that Allura had verified his words, but he also knew that Shiro would tell him to be patient and focus. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “What exactly are you implying?”

“We’ve seen the messages. Every few nights you fly off to do ‘perimeter checks’, but really you’re sending encrypted updates on our progress to the Galra.”

The room was now a rainbow of statues, and Keith realized for the first time that black is unnatural in a rainbow; he sticks out in a way that diminishes the liveliness of the rest. He knew exactly what they were talking about, the alleged messages, but if they really saw all of the messages… His eyes met Lance’s for the first time tonight, but oddly enough they didn’t seem confused or upset. Those blue eyes had been stuck at high tide for weeks now, threatening to spill over, but now they were a raging storm.

“I’m not sure what it is you think you read, but Keith would never betray us,” Lance declared.

Lotor shrugged and said, “Well, fortunately, we have all of them, including the ones detailing your shortcomings.”

Lance shifted in place and crossed his arms to keep himself from looking anxious. The one thing that would completely break him would be Keith admitting what Lance had feared all along.

“As I said, Keith would never betray us,” Lance repeated.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I read a few of these out loud,” Lotor said while pulling up a holograph of the messages:

Today we liberated some hostages and were able to provide them medical treatment. In doing so, we also gained a cargo ship full of weapons to arm the resistance. Be careful approaching the castle. Next, we’ll be heading to Arus. See you there. -K

“That’s enough,” Keith insisted.

“Why stop there when there’s so many more that detail your grim outlook of the team?” Lotor questioned.

Another political alliance was made, bringing the total number of planets supporting Voltron to 13. They are all significantly smaller than the Galra Empire, and even together they probably won’t be strong enough to win the war. Making a pit stop at Balmara to rest. See you there. -K

The team has been arguing nonstop and this makes us vulnerable. We’ve lost four battles in a row, and the yellow lion is out of commission. Stuck in the Javeeno Star System. See you there. -K

“I said that’s enough! These are personal.” Keith practically begged, activating his sword.

“If you’re as loyal as you claim, then you wouldn’t have anything to hide!” Lotor declared.

Lance was assigned a search and rescue mission, but in the process, both the hostage and his partner from the Blade died. He can’t perform basic tasks and is starting to drag the team down. Not sure if I’ll be able to find someone else to pilot red before the assassination attempt on the witch. We wouldn’t make it with him. Stopping for supplies on Pollux. See you there. -K

If Keith had known that’s what was going to be read to Lance, he would’ve stabbed Lotor the moment he landed in the castle, but he didn’t and now Lance looked like a mirror shattered in its frame, trying desperately to keep himself together. All the injuries Keith had gotten in space don’t compare to the pain he feels seeing Lance become void of all life, in fact, this moment ranks in the top three worst moments of his life including when his dad died and when Shiro died.

“Lance, I swear to you that I didn’t write that.”

For a moment it seemed like he couldn’t speak, eyes trained on the ground, until Lance quietly asked, “So you didn’t write any of those messages?”

“No- well yes. The first two, yes I did. But that last one I didn’t. I would never.”

“Whether you claim to have written them or not, you are sending messages to a hidden address. You’re explaining our weaknesses...disclosing our location!” Allura yelled.

“To Shiro!” Keith couldn’t take the accusations, the prying eyes, Lance's mindset.

“I write messages to Shiro hoping one day he’ll respond! That he’ll tell me what to do because I keep failing you, and I don’t know how to be a leader! That he’ll tell me not to worry. That he’ll tell me we’ll survive this. That he’ll show up while we’re collecting supplies and everything can just go back to normal!”

For the first time since he lost Shiro, tears poured out of Keith’s eyes as he tried desperately to hold back a sob to not look as weak as he felt, but it was that vulnerability that proved he was telling the truth. Just as quick as Keith had attempted to sacrifice himself for Lance, everyone surrounded Lotor with their bayards drawn. Even Allura, as conflicted as she was, joined them as Lance took the lead.

“Hunk, Pidge, take Lotor to the holding cell,” Lance commanded while his gun burned an invisible line through Lotor’s head. Lotor narrowed his eyes at Lance, challenging him.

“You will be the one to die before the war ends. I’ll see to it,” Lotor threatened.

Fuck patience.

“Over my dead body!” Keith yelled and threw his sword directly through the center of Lotor’s back. It clanged against the ground, dust particles dissipating and floating towards the ceiling.

“Where’d he go-”

That’s what Keith last asked. That’s all he keeps muttering as the ringing in his ears intensifies, and the smoke from the explosion clouds his vision. There’s someone yelling, but it seems distant and indecipherable. His eyes focus on a drop of blood that runs down his nose and falls to the ground, joining the small pool of red that had already formed. A lot of red is usually an indication of an injury or anticipated death, but it’s also a representation of Lance: passionate, fierce, and inspiring. Lance who stood up for him when no one else did. Lance who never questions his decisions. Lance who loves his family with every ounce of his being. Lance who can see the hope in all of the despair. Lance who has the most uplifting smile. Lance who currently doesn’t have a smile.

Keith was pulled back to reality as pain split through his head. Hands gripped him roughly in an attempt to stop the bleeding, and his eyes had shifted from the pool of blood to the red of Lance’s suit to the black behind his eyelids.

Several hours later after the fires were put out and the castle had been put on lockdown, Keith sat on his bed going through the messages he had actually sent to Shiro. Lance sat across from him quietly; he hadn’t talked since the explosion, but he wasn’t about to let Mr. I’mFineIDon’tNeedAHealingPod with a slight case of traumatic brain injury go unmonitored. Keith peered at Lance over his screen and finally spoke, “You know, you can probably put your bayard away now.”

Lance didn’t look up, tightening his grip on the gun; “I thought you were gonna die. Not gonna let that happen again.”

Keith frowned, knowing the feeling all too well. “I thought you were gonna die when boarding that ship earlier.”

“So you did crash into that cannon because of me!” Lance snapped, finally glaring at him, “And what was that ‘over my dead body’ bullshit? You can’t just die for me!”

“I can, and I will if I have to.”

“Why?! I get hostages killed. I get partners killed. I can’t perform basic tasks-” Lance was getting so worked up, his knuckles were turning white around his bayard.

“I told you I didn’t write that.”

“Then what did you write?” Keith could see how desperate Lance was to know for certain it wasn’t true, and he knew right then that whatever happens after he reads it is worth it if Lance can believe in himself. He slowly reached across the bed and slid his hand on to Lance’s. Rubbing his thumb lightly over his knuckles, he whispered, “Please put the gun down first.”

Lance stared at their hands for a moment, and considered not listening to him; it would mean this could continue, and oh boy did he want Keith to hold his hand forever. Reluctantly, he leaned the gun against the wall, but as he brought his hands back to his lap, Keith reclaimed one and held it tightly in an attempt to steady his voice before he spoke:

“Lance was assigned a search and rescue mission, but in the process, both the hostage and his partner from the Blade died. I assigned him this mission because I believed he was the only one who could successfully complete it, but after those losses, I never want to assign him a rescue mission again. I never want to assign him any mission. I’m so terrified of losing him. He’s my right-hand man, and I wouldn’t even be able to attempt to lead this team without him. He’s the only person who’s made me smile in years... I know this job is dangerous, and we all run the risk of getting hurt or killed, but I’ve already lost two of the three people I love, and I don’t think I could handle losing him too. That’s so selfish of me. I know it is, and that’s why I need your help. He’s hurting Shiro, and I don’t know how to fix it. You know I’ve never been good at this. Please help me...We’re still near Olkarion. See you there. -K”

Keith let out a nervous breath and looked back to their hands locked between them, trying to decide if he was unnaturally cold due to nerves or if Lance was always this warm.

“There’s more, a lot more, about you. I promise they’re all good, and you’re more than welcome to read them,” Keith said through a slight smile as he held the screen up for Lance to take, but as soon as it was in reach, Lance shoved it away. He leaned up to rest on his knees in front of Keith and carefully wound his arms around his neck.”I don’t want to hurt you more than have been...but I also never want to let go again,” Lance whispered.

#klance #voltron #klangst #keith and lance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #lotor #allura x lotor #klance fic #sad lance #friends to lovers #voltron fic

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poppys-writing · 4 years

Text

The Missionaries, Part 1

A/N: new Box Boy series here, but this time it’s more caretaker/comfort centric! I hope you all will enjoy this new take on the Box Boy universe and whump in general. Once again, credit goes to @sweetwhumpandhellacomf and @shameless-whumper for creating this wonderful sub-genre of whump that continues to thrive. Thanks for reading and feel free to check out my masterlist!

Noah woke up to the same rattling of the tiny, rusty plane, dark clouds hanging ominously outside the plane window. He thought that the headache would disappear with a long nap, but it was still as bad (if not worse). Looking across the aisle was Ruthie, who was awake when he fell asleep and was still awake now, her leg tapping incessantly into the metal floor and her hands fiddling nervously with her coat. “You nervous?” He hollered across the aisle to her; the drone of the plane along with the deafening engine made him worry that she wouldn’t even be able to hear him.

She jumped, apparently freaked out by his voice. Her head snapped to face him, her gentle brown curls whipping around even though they were secured in a ponytail. Nonetheless, she flashed him a wide smile, though her eyes didn’t sparkle with joy like they usually do. “No, no, not at all,” she reassured him with a nod. “Why do you ask?”

He held her gaze for a moment, considering pointing out her fidgety behavior, but ultimately decided against it. He didn’t want to be rude. “Uhh, no reason,” he quickly dismissed, a couple of chuckles escaping as he moved to rub the back of his neck. “I’m a little bit nervous,” Noah lied. He wasn’t nervous at all. Should he be?

“Oh, you are?” Ruthie returned back, head cocking to one side. She could see right through his lie; Noah never gets nervous, even when he should be. They’re going to a foreign country, serving for the first time as medical aid, even though they haven’t become doctors yet. In addition to that, they’ll be in one of the biggest human trafficking hubs in the world for two months, treating the victims of the beast that will be breathing down their neck. Yeah, he should be worried about that. “Well you have no reason to be freaked. It’ll be a good experience!” Ruthie lied through her teeth.

Before Noah could get another word in, Ruthie turned back to the window to gaze out at the ominous clouds and overthink everything, effectively ending the conversation. So, without any vocal company, Noah decided to gaze at the empty seats of the plane and imagine the companions they could’ve had. Sophie, Tyler, Jonathan, Mary, Rebecca, Elijah and Esther, Cindy, Jane, Rob and Will. So many of their friends that were supposed to accompany, but all dropped out for various reasons. Mary didn’t have time or money to get the appropriate vaccinations; Tyler, Esther and Cindy couldn’t raise enough money to go and had to work over the summer anyways; Sophie, Jonathan, Rebecca, Elijah, Jane and Rob’s parents all wouldn’t let them go because they thought the trip would be “too dangerous.” Noah didn’t blame them; with human trafficking statistics rising by the day in Belarus and travel advisories announced, he considered not going too. But, Ruthie coming from a family of turn-or-burn preachers and missionary leaders, her parents refused to let her back out of it. Ruthie even offered to request a transfer to somewhere a bit safer than Belarus, but her parents insisted that she finish what she started. There was no way Noah could let her go halfway across the world by herself, so he stayed on, suppressing his nerves once again to go into the belly of the beast.

So now it’s the two of them. Ruthie’s a nice gal. Being in the same friend group in college, they got along and enjoyed one another simply due to mutual friends, but never became close and drifted even further apart during medical school. Leading up to the trip, they went out to lunch and hung out and studied together so they could bond before spending the next two months in a dangerous foreign country together. In that time, Noah discovered her to be nicer than he thought, funnier than he expected, and cuter than she was before.

The plane began its decent into Minsk, the capital and only city with an international airport. The dark clouds and turbulence broke to the city covered in a steady rain that drummed against the plane windows. From the sky, the Stalinist architecture evidently hasn’t been touched up in decades. Still, there was something beautiful about the tall, dreary buildings. The dark windows held the ups and downs of millions of people: mothers bringing home their child, businessmen saving their company, marriages that fall apart, loved ones that pass on, and also hundreds of thousands of people involved one way or another in the Box Boy industry.

Since the Box Boy and Babe industries had been outlawed in the United States almost six years ago, the American government cracked down on human trafficking so hard that the industry had to completely relocate out of red, white and blue borders. Minsk being a major hub even prior to the U.S. breakdown, it was naturally the next best choice. On the bright side, human trafficking in North America became virtually nonexistent. On the down side, Noah and Ruthie are now in the heart of it all once more.

The plane landed, emptying out its two Americans and their luggage and moving on to pick up some other human cargo. Who would be the next people sitting in their seats? Box Boy moguls, or Box Boy victims? Noah shuddered at the thought, lugging his bag across the slick tarmac towards a van with the familiar Christian Missionary Alliance symbol plastered all over its side. As they sauntered across the runway, which seemed to get longer with every step, Ruthie and Noah could feel the eyes of the ground controllers and travelers following them. Some of them were angry and disdainful, while others were hopeful and trusting - hopefully they’d encounter more of the latter once they get to the mission house.

Ruthie and Noah loaded their bags into the back of the van, piling in and shedding their raincoats. Ruthie’s ponytail had frizzed up in the rain, poofing out in every direction. Stop staring, Noah internally scolded himself, but it was too late. Their eyes met again, but this time he was inches from her face - he could see the honey-colored flecks littering her brown eyes, watch her dimples form as she smiled back at him. Does she have a boyfriend? Maybe he should ask that once this whole don’t-get-human-trafficked thing is over.

The van lurched into motion, Noah and Ruthie lurching along with them. A little laugh escaped her lips as she clutched on to Noah’s arm for stability, while he reached for the handle above to secure the both of them. Even after the ride got steadier, Ruthie still clutched his arm.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, the driver turned around and flashed the both of them a toothy smile, a gold tooth barely visible. “Welcome to Belarus!” he warmly greeted them with a thick slavic, even though they had been riding in the car for a while now. “We go pick up for other missionaries, then drive. You’ll be settled by dark.”

Casual conversation commenced until the van turned into the parking lot of a run down motel. Three missionaries from Spain, a couple from Germany, and two friends from Australia piled into the rickety old car. Polite greetings were exchanged and all got settled in for the couple hour drive to the house.

Minsk rolled by Ruthie’s window, the business-centric neighborhood that the airport was surrounded by turning residential. With that shift came what she was dreading: the Box Boys and Box Babes. Back home, when it was legal, she still became nauseated at the sight of a human being owned by another human being, and she didn’t even see it that much publicly in small town Idaho. Here, however, it seemed to be commonplace. Some men or women were leashed - leashed! - to powerful looking men and women that strode through the streets like they owned the place. Some girls trailed behind men with nasty grimaces, keeping their head down and hands folded in front of them. Some boys walked beside women with large heels and an entourage. It was disgusting. Absolutely revolting. Apparently west coast mega cities like Los Angeles and San Francisco were just like this, but by the time Ruthie made it there the business was already outlawed. How did the United States even legalize this? How could anybody legalize this? Ruthie wanted to pound of the windows, to jump out of the van and shout at everyone for their tolerance of this injustice. Instead, she let tears well in her eyes, clinging tighter to Noah’s arm.

Noah wasn’t looking out of the window just for that reason. He kept his eyes focused on his hands in his lap, or his watch, or just closed them. He already knows what it looks like, and he’d rather not see it again. When he felt Ruthie clutch at his arm even tighter, he nudged her with his shoulder to get her attention away from the window. It worked, and she quickly turned her head towards him, frantically rubbing away tears. “You okay?” Noah posed, careful to keep his voice down.

“I don’t know,” Ruthie shrugged, trying her best to smile at him. She does that. Instead of being sad, she decides to smile - it doesn’t really work all the time. “It’s just...I’d only heard about it, never actually seen what it looks like until now. It’s bad, Noah, this is really bad.”

Noah sadly nodded his head. Oh, if only she knew the worst of it. Sweet Ruthie with her naive small-town mindset. He wouldn’t trade her for the world, but sometimes he wished he could tell her the truth without ruining her endless joy and kindness. “I know, I know. We’re here to help though, don’t forget that,” he tried to reassure her. Noah’s not the best at comfort - since he rarely gets nervous, he doesn’t know how to deal with this fearful emotions.

“Hopefully our help is enough,” Ruthie responsed, casting her head down towards her hands instead of outside the window.

Noah surveyed the bus, just like he surveyed the plane. This bus was supposed to be filled with their closest friends, all journeying together to fight the evils of man and heal those who had fallen victim to corruption. Hopefully this van will be filled at all when the mission ends.

#box boy universe #box boy multiverse #box babe #box boy #caretaker #comfort #caretaker prompts #comfort prompts #my writing #the missionaries

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ephemeral-afterlight · 5 years

Text

Day 26: Abandoned

(Form an alliance with the masses.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 26: Abandoned

Word Count: 2835

Relationships: Prinxiety (implied pre-relationship/pining Virgil)

Warnings: Crying/Emotional breakdown, mild self-harm (unintentional), mild blood, mentions of panic attacks, mention of rituals/sacrifices in a joking/satirical manner

A/N: i don't really have much of an explanation as to how this ties in with the prompt. you could view it as roman abandoning his pride to accept comfort, or virgil abandoning his anxiety to help someone he cares about, or even just something as simple as that abandoned mug of hot chocolate. up to you, do with this what you will. anyway, i intended this to be way angstier, but then it somehow got to almost 3k word of prinxiety fluff? so. yeah idek either. by the way, the song in the fic is called "Ribbons".

“And you fell in ribbons around me.”

It’s nighttime when he hears it. The melody of a song too obscure to pinpoint, beauty in each wistful note. The words are laced with thoughtfulness, speared by longing, and it’s unlike anything Virgil’s ever heard before. It’s almost as if the lyrics themselves dance down the hallway, twirls and pirouettes and every kind of graceful move imaginable to the ballad from which they were born. Virgil doesn’t know the song, hasn’t heard it sung or played in the mindscape before, which is odd considering how it feels like there’s always new music waiting to be discovered here.

“Shredded by the ones you used to seek.”

Virgil hopes he’s not intruding on anything important when he rounds the corner, and he’s met with a massive room he didn’t even know existed. It spans multiple stories, bookshelves filled with all different sorts of novels towering so far into the sky that he can’t see to the top. The room itself is oval-shaped, which is odd enough, but considering this is in Thomas’ mind, anything is possible. Smaller, more normal-sized bookcases lie in rows on either side of the room, creating long passageways that seem to twist and turn like a labyrinth fueled by pure knowledge. In the very center lies a few couches and beanbags chairs all situated in a circle, bordering a large table in the middle that holds magazines, stray bookmarks, pens, and a single mug of what looks to be steaming hot coffee beside an opened book.

The room is impressive, and almost intimidating with it’s accented swirling designs in the mahogany wood that makes up most of the walls, but the fireplace directly in front of him on the other side of the library emits a glow that keeps it cozy despite its enormity. It’s warmer in here than it is in the main part of the mindscape, though cool enough so as not to be uncomfortable, almost at the perfect temperature to lull one to sleep whilst in the middle of reading.

Virgil wonders why he never knew of this place.

“Be quiet now, it’s almost time.”

The soft voice comes again from somewhere in the left half of the room, far away enough to allow Virgil to conclude that he’s on a different floor. It’s Roman, he knows it is now that he can hear his voice better, but what’s Roman doing in a library at three in the morning?

Virgil twists his hoodie strings in his fingers as he slowly walks into the library, making the trek across the plush green carpet to the common area in the center. The soft fabric caressing his bare feet feels more soothing than he was expecting, like a cloud holding him up as he walks across the sky. He doesn’t know if Roman came in here with the express intent of being alone, but hopefully he won’t be angry. Virgil couldn’t sleep, and who’s to say he’s to blame for being curious?

“Be careful not to fall out of line.”

A page finally submits to it’s rigid conditioning and falls back to the other half as Virgil approaches, exacerbated further by the small amount of a breeze he kicks up when he gets close enough. Scanning everything on the table is more of out of wonder, for once, rather than fear, and it’s a nice breath of air from the usual hypervigilance he’s been instilled with since his first appearance within Thomas as a side.

There’s not much of note in the way of the scattered supplies and note sheets littering the table, covered in neat handwriting that is undoubtedly Logan’s. It’s a surprise to see such a disquieted work space, such an unrefined lack of organization that isn’t typical of Logan’s usual behaviour. His need for categorizing and cataloguing and sorting is something that feels like it’s been ingrained into him since day one, and to see his visibly scattered thought and work process is weird. Really weird.

“Breathe so softly, keep your whispers low.”

Virgil notices that the bright red porcelain mug on the table doesn’t, in fact, hold coffee, but hot chocolate with colourful marshmallows. It’s fitting to Roman, suits his need for simple comforts such as a warm, sweet beverage, and the thought of him with a chocolate mustache on his lip from drinking it too quickly brings a small smile to Virgil’s face. Well, at least it does until Hot Chocolate Mustache Roman turns into Regular Remus, and Virgil berates his brain for corrupting a pleasant mental image like that.

The liquid is still very hot, as shown by the steam rising from the lip of the cup and the heat Virgil can feel radiating onto his fingers despite his hands not even being close to touching the ceramic. It hasn’t been drunk, not even a sip as evident by the perfectly clean and immaculate rim around the edge, which means Roman must have either gotten distracted or was in a hurry for something. Virgil can’t imagine that someone leisurely singing songs at 3 a.m. is necessarily in a rush, so that just leaves distraction. Typical of him. Virgil wishes he were annoyed instead of endeared.

“Silently dream of what you used to know.”

Virgil finally tears himself away from the warmth, comfort, and coziness of the reading area to start locating Roman, and it’s not particularly difficult to find him. His voice carries even when he’s not in one of those grandiose, lifting belts he loves so much, and the melodies act as a rope to pull Virgil closer to where he is. Up the stairs behind one of the bookcases on the wall, along balconies, traversing ladders and mazes of shelves just to try to find his way to the source of the song.

“They don’t love you, no, they never will.”

At that lyric, Virgil stops in his tracks, falters when the words sink in. Is… is that what Roman thinks? It could be argued that they’re just lyrics and don’t mean anything, but Virgil of all people knows best that the music we listen to is an extension of ourselves. It reflects our deepest wants, and fear, and insecurities, the ones we refuse to let out of their cages locked deep within the heart to escape and leave us vulnerable. And judging by the raw emotion in his voice as he sang that line, the way it dipped at the end of the line very narrowly missing a crack, it… it makes Virgil worried. And guilty, because this must be partially his fault.

“They’ll always be better so rest your heart and still.”

Virgil wants to tell him that he’s wrong, wants to stave off the thickness steadily building in his throat as the result of what is likely to be tears. Roman’s cried around them, of course, but never over something very serious or personal. When he learned an actress Thomas looks up to died, or when he realized that a show they were scheduled to play got cancelled at the last minute after weeks and weeks of painstaking script memorization and practice.

It’s hard to not say something when he finally peers through an open space in the last bookcase in the row and sees his their Princey, of whom is surprisingly not in his trademark royal garb. He wears it so often Virgil has wondered before if he dons it while he sleeps, when he works out, even in the shower, and if Virgil’s being honest, it wouldn’t surprise him. But the familiar red sash and white jacket and golden lace embroidery is nowhere to be seen, replaced by something much less prince-like, more humbling, more… human.

Virgil never thought he’d be admitting to himself that Roman somehow is able to look hot in dark grey sweatpants and a loose red t-shirt, but here he is.

“It’s time to leave, I promise it’ll be fine.”

Roman sings much softer this time, as if coming to his senses about his surrounding, realizes that it’s late and he might wake someone up. Too late.

His face is stained with tear tracks, both old and fresh with the moisture building in his eyes only to spill over the dam and roll heavy upon his cheekbones. Virgil’s so used to him keeping up appearances, just as Virgil himself and every other side does despite how much Patton denies being sad or Logan denies having emotions, and he decides he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like the sorrow in their resident prince’s eyes, doesn’t like the way meekness looks on him.

“Just don’t look, they’re not coming back this time.”

Roman seems to get impossibly smaller with every uttered word, curling in on himself where he sits against the railing, peering over the balcony to the ground floor many stories below with misty, unseeing eyes. His arms slowly snake their way up to his sides, come to clench at each other with a surprisingly harsh force. His fingers dig hard enough into his arms to cause them to go white with the lack of blood, to create crescents in the shape of his fingernails, and Virgil doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold himself back from rushing over to help any longer if he sees even the tiniest ounce of blood come out of Roman’s skin.

“Tell me now how is it up there.”

And it does, unfortunately. Roman has never been one to control his strength very well, and in this state of upset, it’s likely he doesn’t even feel the pain. Being numbed by self-loathing, the apathy that comes shortly after almost like a soothing but assertively temporary balm to the pain, it’s all so familiar. Virgil knows that state like the back of his hand, can almost feel it radiating off of Roman in waves, but maybe that’s his ability to sense the others’ anxiety. He’s still not very good at being able to differentiate between different feelings.

Tiny little droplets of blood well up from where he pressed a bit too hard with sharp, manicured nails, wells up just the same as a soft sob does. Virgil doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn’t know what happened, what set him off, what triggered this kind of response. He doesn’t know the kinds of thoughts Roman may be having, or how in control of himself he is. He doesn’t know. But Virgil will damn well try to help despite all of that.

“Princey?” Virgil murmurs from behind, and Roman flinches as he whips his head around to meet Virgil’s concerned gaze. He seems bewildered for a moment, as if he hadn’t been expecting anybody to be in here, which would be a fair assumption if it weren’t for the fact that Virgil’s sleeping habits and schedule is awful. Roman takes a minute to process the turn of events, and then comes back to himself with a shuddering sigh as he hastily wipes his tears away with unforgiving fingers.

“Haha, what are-- what’re you doing up, Surly Temple? Prowling in the night? Some sort of… I dunno, emo ritual? A-All the emos gather ‘round at 2 a.m. to chant My Chemical Romance lyrics while they sacrifice band tees to the flames?” Roman rambles on nervously, a look on his face that implies even he doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore. He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly when Virgil gives him a judging look, but then hisses through his teeth when he realizes he has minor wounds littering his upper arms. Virgil’s immediately back to that same worry, that same empathy that coursed through his veins before, and he calmly approaches the disheveled prince. Roman gives him an unreadable look when he sits down a respectable distance away (closer than Virgil originally planned on being, close enough to barely be able to brush shoulders if he just leaned over a bit), but soon his eyelids flutter as he shifts his gaze back to look out over the chasm filled with books.

“C’mon, Princey, what’s up?” Virgil asks quietly, knocks his shoulder against Roman’s in a show of good faith (at least he hopes it comes across like that). Although he still feels awkward talking so candidly with someone he’s used to bickering with all the time, Virgil finds himself oddly confident. Maybe it’s the survival instinct that’s embedded so deeply within his core, the want to protect and save those he cares about, those who have been hurt by both others and themselves. Although he and Deceit have had their differences in the past, ones Virgil is still having trouble reconciling even after acknowledging his faults in the unfortunate falling out, the two of them share that, at least. Self-preservation, two sides working to protect and better Thomas (and the sides, by extension) in their own specific ways.

“It’s… it’s nothing, don’t worry about it. Just saw a-- saw a sad movie! Needed to cry it out, haha!” Roman bites out, pained and strained and oh so fake, and Virgil huffs out an exasperated breath. It’s times like now where Virgil feels that intense urge to safeguard, to shelter the ones he cares about, and it builds in his chest like a scream waiting to burst out. There’s no way to expel the restless energy, no way to quench that absurd, overwhelming need to shield, except…

“Roman, don’t do this to yourself,” Virgil murmurs gently, reprimands with a soft, caring tone, and taking the other side into his arms is much easier than he ever imagined. It feels right, feels like he’s supposed to be here, helping and holding the creative side throughout anything the world could throw at him. Or whatever he can throw at himself; Virgil is no stranger to being your own worst enemy. Roman just laughs brokenly, shudders through another sob as he buries his face into the soft fabric of Virgil’s patchy jacket, and Virgil wraps his arms around the broader shoulders to offer the rare moment of tactile comfort while he’s able to stand physical touch.

They sit there for a long time, a long few hours of Roman crying as quietly as he can while Virgil delivers gentle, relaxing reassurances. He knows it isn’t easy to open up like this, to allow someone you’re not very close to see you vulnerable, and Virgil hopes that maybe this’ll spark a change. Maybe they can get to know each other a bit better, understand each other’s intentions and wants and needs, and maybe. Maybe they can be friends, could be something more.

Roman’s weeping tapers off eventually, shifts into soft sniffles as the sun rises high enough to shine bright rays through the enormous stained glass window in the center of the library, just above the fireplace. Virgil is starting to get uncomfortable from holding the same position for too long, and sitting hunched over on the floor for hours like this surely isn’t very good for his back, but he’ll deal with that when it comes. Right now, his focus is on Roman, on wiping the last stray tears away from his reddened cheeks after a moment’s hesitation, and he counts it a victory when Roman doesn’t push him away for it.

Roman sits up fully but doesn’t lean away, just presses his fingers into his eyes as the two of them finally rise and stretch their sore muscles. Virgil can’t help but admire the way the red light falls upon Roman’s face, the way it casts shadows and highlights and wraps his lips and lashes in hard candy. It’s breathtaking, steals the air from his lungs and the support from his trembling knees, and he knows they need to wrap this up quickly before the events of the night can fully crash down on Virgil and send him into a spiral. The panic attacks can wait until later, when he’s alone and doesn’t have to deal with the humiliation of being so uncharacteristically sappy.

Roman sudden barks out a hoarse laugh, shakes his head at Virgil’s questioning look. He leans back nonchalantly, tries to appear casual even though Virgil can see that his hands are still shaking in the aftermath of his breakdown. He won’t say anything, though. He doesn’t like when people call attention to his anxiety unnecessarily, and although he knows it’s out of concern, it often just makes it worse. “‘Grasp my hand and pull me out of here.’ The next line in the song.”

Virgil smirks at the soft, final notes, senses an idea blooming in his head. This is probably a bad idea, a terrible idea, and Roman will probably slap him for it, but… he said to grasp his hand and pull him out of there. So Virgil does, he slides his hand into Roman’s own, tugs him to run down the balcony and the stairs and through bookshelves and the thankful grin he’s given in return is absolutely blinding.

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imagine-loki · 3 years

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Hiding In Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 8 AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE:Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé.You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies? RATING: General Audience

NOTE - I finally got my ass in gear and finished something, thank Loki.

Raven thought over everything she and Frigga discussed. Her earlier worry that Frigga was blinded by motherly bias was very much confirmed. Loki was by no means a tyrant, he did not seem to have an aggressive bone in him. She knew he would never physically harm her. She also suspected that he would not be the kind to constantly say negative things to her and belittle her publicly but she knew too that behind everything, he would be thinking it, and that was an issue.

Frigga had ensured that until her family arrived, she would not be bothered too greatly. She instead spent time learning different aspects of Aesir court that could only be taught on her coming to Asgard, as it included court records that were kept in Asgard’s archives and could not be taken off the realm. It made for interesting reading, there were so many things she would never have even thought existed. Alfheim’s court was run so differently, it was a large learning curve for her, and she liked it. It gave her something to do while waiting that made her feel like she didn’t have to think of Loki all the time. On occasion, he came up in the court records, but they were in the grand scheme of things, where the royal family went and such so it was interesting but not overly informative. There was one situation that seemed to have arisen when Loki seemed to think it humorous to play tricks on his brother and a few of his friends and had been reprimanded in court for that but overall, he seemed to not be much of the situation. The only things of note from outside of the court that occurred but made it into the annals of it was an ambush in Vanaheim that noted his seidr was one of the reasons they made it to safety and when he was able to prove a young man innocent of a crime he would have faced a long sentence for. She read the articles pertaining to both with interest and noticed that Loki had a keen interest in justice and perceived imbalances of such. It was a trait to commend but again, she found herself wondering how to deal with her future with him. Clearly, he saw having to marry her as an injustice against him.

The knock on the door that stole her from her thoughts startled Raven. She walked over and opened it, not expecting anyone as Frigga had already told her that she was to deal with different matters through the day and would see her that evening and her family was not yet due to arrive. When she opened the door, the large burly figure on the other side caused her to frown slightly. “Your highness.” She bowed.

Thor nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Princess. I am sorry to bother you, but may I speak with you briefly?”

Raven moved to the side and closed the door again once he was inside. “Is everything alright?”

“I was going to ask you that. I noticed that Loki’s old maid had returned and that there was no sign of you anywhere. I was worried my morose brother scared you into hiding in some dark corner of Svartalfheim.” Thor meant it as a joke but the manner in which Raven looked awkwardly to the side caused him to worry. “He has not been overly rude, has he?”

“No more than usual, I suppose. He just…” She toyed with her hands.

“I can assure you, I will not run to Loki with whatever you say to me,” Thor promised.

“I could not stand his manner of speaking of me. He decided to actually attempt to learn something of me and Light Elf customs through my guise as an elven maid but that went about as well as a Jotun going to a sun for a holiday. He would not even use my name, he called me “Her” and “She” and “The Princess”. When I told him that it would be wise to use my name, he was uninterested, so I told him I could not stomach his disrespect any longer and left.” She explained.

Thor stood in silence for a short time thinking over what she had said. “Can I just say, that your official meeting as intended is going to be utter madness?” He chuckled.

“I have been hiding here reading, trying not to think about it.”

“How is that fairing?”

“Very badly. From what I am reading, Prince Loki does not take well to being lied to or deceit.”

“That is true, though the irony is utterly startling as he himself often lies and is deceitful, but I digress.”

“Two wrongs do not make a right.”

“No, that is true, but if you go left twice, you end up going right,” Thor argued.

“I am not entirely sure that has much logic to it but it’s not wrong, I suppose.” Raven laughed slightly. Thor smiled at her as a result. “Thank you, I think that is the first laugh I have had all week that is not at the expense of my current situation.”

“It does seem like it was by the look on your face.” Thor nodded. He sighed at the defeated features of the Elvish Princess. “Princess Raven, I know this is not ideal and I know my brother is immense work but I assure you, for as many faults as I can list him having, he is not a bad being and his recent adversity to the Light Elves is not a lifelong dislike, merely a reaction to the impending situation and I believe it is unfair to thrust this upon you, he is just trying to deal with it and I know he will cease his foolishness upon realising that this is not as bad as he seems to think it to be in his head.”

“How will he react when he realises who I am?” She asked. “I am trying to figure out myself how I think he will but I am not sure.”

“What have you thought would be his reaction?”

“Insulted and embarrassed that his mother and I schemed this. Perhaps angered at you too for not revealing the truth to him. Leading to an angry and scorned prince.”

“I would think that to be a fair assessment.” Thor nodded.

“Yet you seem to actually smile at the thought?”

Thor exhaled loudly. “My brother is very proud.” He explained. “Too proud, far too much so. And this will very much hurt his pride, I know that deeply but that is not a bad thing. Pride is not something one should have in great amounts as it is not a good trait. I too suffered this affliction but through Loki mostly, I have been cured of my pride and see now how harmful it actually is to one’s self. Loki has thought himself too much above others for too long, this will crash that delusion down and yes, if I am honest, I am interested to see how that goes. The worst you will endure is scathing comments, glares and such. I, on the other hand, will be subjected to abuse, both physical and verbal.”

“And you’re okay with that?” She asked, noticing the devious smile on his face.

“Yes, I am. It’s nice being the one not feeling fooled for once.”

“It was not about fooling him, it was about getting to know him before being married to him for the rest of my life,” Raven verified.

“Yes, but you fooled him by doing so,” Thor pointed out.

Raven became silent after that, uncertain of what to say. The closer the time came to reveal the situation, the more she regretted ever coming to Asgard before the wedding.

Loki eyed Thor with interest as he walked up the hallway of the royal wing. When Thor passed him, he noticed something about his brother that was off. “Where have you just come from?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“You smell of lavender and rosemary. Unless you have accidentally fallen into mother’s bathroom supplies, which, going by the fact you are dry, I sincerely doubt, then you were in the presence of someone who uses such perfuming plants and I am curious as to ascertain who that was.”

“That is entirely none of your concern.” Thor dismissed. “Why would you even care? So long as I am not encroaching on you and your business, what is it to you?”

“Now you have caused my curiosity to alter into intrigue.”

“I would have thought you would have been too busy readying for your impending nuptials to care what I am doing, seeing as you are to be wed so soon.” Loki scowled at the thought. “You know, if I were you, I would have some gratitude. Mother spoke to me about my perspective wives, and none come near the beauty of Princess Raven.”

“Ask Mother to give her to you then,” Loki growled before his brow furrowed. “How in the Norns would you know what she looks like?”

“We met her, years ago, in Vanaheim. Her and her brothers. I recall her being pretty then. According to Mother, she looks even more beautiful now. So, while I need to fret about the appearance of the woman I will have to have by my side, you are being gifted a pleasant one of good looks and mind and are complaining. Honestly, Loki, you state that you have it the least favourable of the two of us, yet on this front, you very much are at an advantage. Your wife will be appealing looking but even more importantly than that, she is well-versed in the role required of her as a princess herself and is genuinely a nice person and before you demand to know how I know this, the answer is simple, her brother Richard and I have spoken substantially of late. He is the second oldest of her brothers, he was at the same camp as us in Vanaheim.” Thor stated. He used the fact it was true that he was in correspondence with Richard because of the elf’s thirst for knowledge of the battles through time so that he could learn from them. In Vanaheim, he had spoken to Thor at length with regards to different battles and the Aesir prince promised that he would send books on different historical effects for the elf prince to better himself in his role as general of Alfheim. Never once had the elf asked for his sister, but Loki did not need to know that.

Loki gave a small disinterested sound. He had known of Thor corresponding with Richard, he was slightly startled that the two other princes were discussing Raven but it was not entirely implausible either. “Lucky me.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Sounds like she is perfect for you, you can have her.”

“She is not a fruit bowl, she’s a living being and you need to remember that,” Thor growled. “She comes from a culture where she is not as utilised as she should be but that will not equate to her being vapid and dim.”

“Norns, why is everyone so sure that this princess is so great? Between you and Mother, I am getting so sick of hearing about this. All I need now is Father bothering me about her too.”

“Father has said several times in my presence that this is the alliance we need to secure our ties to the Light Elves. Raven being married to you and the children that will result in such ensure that.”

“Unless one of her four brothers wed elsewhere, of course?”

“Three are marrying Light Elves and one is promised to a Vanir, General Everett’s daughter, Evie, is it? Their alliances are being set in stone via that.” Thor informed him. “He aligned his daughter after it was ensured you and Raven were to be wed. This alliance was integral to everything.”

“Whoopie.”

“Loki, please….just…” Thor sighed, he wanted to tell his brother to be nice to Raven, that she was a genuinely nice person but he knew that when it would be announced that she was actually the being that had been playing his maid and that his mother and the princess had concocted the plan and then, of course, when Loki realised that Thor knew who she was too, there would be a severe issue and he would not be easily calmed. “Try and be reasonable.”

“What were you going to say? Or was your brain not able to keep up with your train of thought?” Loki growled.

Thor sighed, no longer feeling the slight twinge of guilt for his brother at being deceived. “I was going to say, be nice to her when she arrives, but I gathered that was too much to ask.” he simply side-stepped his brother. “I hear they are arriving soon.”

Loki said nothing more to his brother as he left, too busy considering what was to come.

#Loki #others #submission #submitted fic #wolfpawn #hiding in plain sight #Chapter 8

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believingispowerfulmagic · 4 years

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“Reunited at Last” Chapter 8: Halloween

The sun had long set by the time Rob headed home, turning on his brights as he drove down the dirt country road that led to his house. Darkness and silence surrounded him as he lived outside the main part of town, so there were no streetlamps to light his way. His only neighbors were the trees and animals of the forest but he didn’t mind. Rob loved the peace and solace nature provided him.

His headlights illuminated a special patch of trees and Rob smiled. Those were the trees he specifically cared for, nurturing them until the holidays rolled around. In a couple weeks, he would open his Christmas tree lot and the people of Storybrooke would rush to his little oasis to find the perfect evergreen to celebrate the holiday. He loved his little side business perhaps even more than his main one. Seeing the joy and wonder on everyone’s faces--especially the children’s--always made him feel warm and happy. Because though his choice of residence suggested otherwise, he liked people--being around them and most importantly, helping them. It gave him purpose and invigorated him.

Robin parked his car in his dirt driveway and turned it off. He grabbed his toolbox and his mail before climbing out of the car. After locking it, he hurried toward his door and let himself into his house, quickly getting out of the late October chill. Winter was already making itself known even though it wasn’t due for two months.

He set his mail down on the small table he kept in the foyer. Rob’s cottage was too far from the main part of town for Storybrooke’s one mail carrier to deliver to, so he had a mailbox in the post office that he checked every day before the office closed. It was usually bills though he got a couple magazines and catalogues. Occasionally he got packages but those were few and far between.

After taking off his shoes, he went through the mail and tossed out the junk. He set his bills aside for when he worked on his checkbook during the weekend and headed into the kitchen to make himself some dinner. With how cold it was starting to get, Rob decided on the classic combination of grilled cheese and tomato soup. He paired them with a beer and headed into his living room, settling into his armchair to watch the replay of a football game. It had been years since he had lived in England, but his heart still belonged to his football association.

But not even his team held his attention that night. His mind kept wandering back to the cannery parking lot and Regina Mills. There was just something about her, like they had met before even though he was certain they hadn’t. He didn’t even think he had seen her in town which struck him as odd. Storybrooke was a rather small town where everyone knew everybody else. It felt stranger that there would be one person he hadn’t seen before but it was obviously possible. Maybe he had and he just couldn’t place her, though some part of his mind remembered her.

He also hoped he saw her again. Even without the feeling of déjà vu he felt around her, her soulful brown eyes and beautiful smile had made his heart skip a beat in a way it hadn’t in a long time. Rob hadn’t experienced much romance since coming to Storybrooke though he had been something of a heartbreaker back in England, one of his many sins in his home country. He had come to America for a fresh start and he decided to first focus on settling into a legitimate career. Once that was done, he had then started dating again--but this time, he focused on finding someone to spend the rest of his life with. While he had gone on a few dates in Storybrooke, he hadn’t found the right person yet.

It didn’t mean that he thought Regina Mills was going to be the right person. For all he knew, she had a handsome and intelligent husband as well as a beautiful family. He just knew he hadn’t felt like this toward anyone in a long time. Rob hoped he would see her again soon and would find a way to get to know her better. And if all they ended up being was friends, that would be fine.

Until then, he could always dream…

*****

The carriage jostled violently, causing Regina to throw up her hands to brace herself against its wall and grip the back of the seat. She gritted her teeth as she fought to keep from being tossed to the floor. “These roads are atrocious. Why doesn’t King George do anything about them?”

“How do you know where are already in King George’s kingdom?” her father asked, holding as well.

She shot him a look. “Because I know our roads in Mist Haven aren’t so poorly maintained.”

“That is true,” her father replied. “Our infrastructure is strong thanks to you.”

Pride filled Regina. She hadn’t wanted to become queen but now that she had the power, she was doing everything she could to strengthen her country and make her people’s lives better. Regina negotiated better trade deals between Mist Haven and the surrounding kingdoms and took steps to ensure they were not pulled into the never-ending Ogre Wars. Her mother’s words about getting the people to love her played over and over in her mind. She knew if she won them over, they would stop protecting Snow White and she would finally avenge Daniel’s death.

Most of all, she just wanted to be loved.

The road eventually smoothed over and not long after, her carriage came to a halt. She took a deep breath, checking that her hair was still pinned up into the elaborate hairdo her maid had done for her. “Here we go,” she muttered.

“You look beautiful,” her father assured her. “I daresay you will turn many heads tonight. Perhaps you will find someone who catches your eye as well.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I am not here to find romance, Daddy. I am here as a diplomat eager to work out an agreement with King George.”

“You can do both,” he suggested. He sighed. “I just want to see you happy, Regina.”

“I told you after Daniel died that I would never be happy again. That still holds,” she told him, looking away from him. She still felt his eyes on her though.

The door opened and a servant held out his hand to help her down from the carriage. Daddy followed her and he held out his arm to her. “May I escort you in?”

“I need to make certain King George understands that he is to deal with me and only me,” she said. “So no escort. You follow behind.”

He nodded. “As you wish.”

Regina walked through the large double doors, entering King George’s palace. Servants directed everyone to the Great Hall and she paused at the entrance to it. Daddy rushed forward to inform the herald who she was so she could get probably announced as she entered the ball. It was important to make an entrance, to make certain everyone was watching. She had chosen her rich red satin gown, one that was more form-fitting than some of her other gowns. Black lace covered her arms and her neck, though there was a gap between the lace and the neckline of her gown. It gave everyone a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage, especially as she had swept her dark hair into an elaborate updo that left her neck bare. While she had sworn off love and romance, she still understood the power the allure of sex with her held over men (and women).

She paused at the top of a grand staircase, looking down at the finely dressed men and women in the Great Hall. Many were already dancing but there were a few milling around the food and spirits King George was serving. He was clearly sparing no expense, she realized. She wondered if he could even afford to throw such a grand ball.

“Announcing Her Majesty, Regina, Queen of Mist Haven,” the herald declared.

Everyone stopped and looked up as she descended. She held her skirts just enough to ensure she didn’t trip over them and wondered if her mother would’ve been proud to see how grace she was. Regina then banished her from her mind. She needed to be focused on the task at hand--a new trade agreement with King George that would get her country needed medicines.

King George stepped forward and took her hand, pressing a kiss she didn’t feel through her gloves to the back of it. “Queen Regina, it is an honor.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” she replied, curtsying to him. “You have a lovely kingdom.”

His chest puffed out with pride. “You had a good journey, then?”

“I did,” she lied, seeing her father start behind her. She hoped he stayed quiet--the last thing they needed was to insult King George with the truth that his kingdom was poorly maintained.

Daddy stayed quiet and King George held out his arm to Regina. “Are you thirsty? Why don’t we get you a drink?”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said, taking his arm and letting him led her to the table where several goblets were lined up. He handed one to her and took one for himself.

He raised his goblet toward her. “To you, Queen Regina.”

“To a prosperous alliance between our countries,” she said, clinking her goblet against his with a sweet smile. She took a sip, never taking her eyes off King George. He looked intrigued and she could see the hunger for riches in his eyes.

Good. That would make it easier to get what she wanted from him.

“I look forward to discussing that alliance with you.” He set his empty goblet down on the tray held by a passing servant. “I know we can greatly improve Mist Haven’s prosperity and bring goods that will amaze your people to your markets.”

“You certainly can help us,” Regina replied. It was the truth, though King George wouldn’t be helping Mist Haven the way he thought he would. Of course he would think his country had the best goods and that he was doing her a favor rather than recognizing it was the other way around. But she would let him have his arrogance. It would make it easier to get him on her side.

She mingled with the others attending the ball, politely refusing all requests to dance. It was one of her favorite games to play at these events. The coyer she acted, the more men fell over themselves to try to win her favor. She was able to keep them at arm’s length and avoid revealing how poor a dancer she truly was, yet still get what she wanted.

It was win-win.

After about an hour of inane conversations, King George approached her. She had watched him consume another goblet of wine and believed he was in a relaxed but not inebriated state. It was time to strike.

“King George, might I have a word with you?” she asked. She then dropped her voice and fluttered her lashes as she added: “In private?”

His eyes lit up and he held out his arm. “You may.”

Continue reading on FFN, AO3 or Wattpad

#once upon a time #outlaw queen #oq au #oq ff #reunited at last

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nymphl · 5 years

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Lie to Me - Hux x Reader - Ch. 4 - Bad Liar & Good Liar

A/N: Hi, darlings! xD As promised, here I am with chapter 4 of Lie to Me. The old readers will probably noticed I added the mention of a Kalikori - I was rewatching Rebels and this part quite captured my attention, and it’ll make sense for future chapters. Don’t worry, it’s not something that affects this chapter or the story so far greatly. Thank you for all the support and I truly hope you like it.

Story Summary: Falling for the enemy… That’s probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Letting him live… for he should be dead. And you should’ve been the one to kill him. You had him, right there… and you let it escape through yours fingers. He lived. And now only the time could tell if you made the right decision — more likely wrong — by saving the amnesiac General of the First Order and telling him he was your husband. [Hux x Reader - Hux x You]

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: from enemies to lovers; eventual romance; memory loss; fake marriage; fake marriage becomes real marriage; rebellion; married couple; canon divergence; slow burn romance; politics; rebel alliance; resistance; first order; OOCness; eventual smut; eventual sex; power play; power dynamics; syndicate; lies; you lie; Hux lies; Hux backstory; manipulation; political alliances; political betrayals; secret organizations.

Wordcount: 4141

PREVIOUS CHAPTER *** NEXT CHAPTER

IT WOULD BE WEEKS BEFORE YOU COULD STARE AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR WITHOUT FEELING ASHAMED. You watched the bathtub fill to the brim with water before you entered it; the warm liquid easing all the tight spots in your back.

He was — thankfully — outside. Doing kriffs-knows-what. He mentioned something about exercising his sore muscles. While you would be normally against it this early in his recovery stage, you realized it was better if he stayed away from you.

After the shocking words — you were not sure you could look at him in the eye for more than half-second without blushing madly — you thought best to keep your distance. If he did not know better — if he did not know you were his wife and were a wife to someone else in the past — he would probably think you to be a virgin.

A sigh left your lips as you ran the sponge over your tired limbs. It had been quite hectic back at the hospital and only now, after the excitements of the day had died down, you realized how exhausted you were.

Some sleep would do you some good — you needed it. You knew, however, he would not let you sleep if not in the same bed with him. You had evaded it for days now; after that kiss and how shamefully you gave in, he would not take no for an answer. Heading back to the hospital as huge no-no this time as well.

You hugged your legs and placed your chin on your knees.

Even if you were dead tired and in need of some rest, you did not dare to sleep now. You had to be utterly spent by nighttime. It was the only way he would not try anything. And besides, afternoons usually went by quickly. It is, if you busied yourself enough.

It did not mean you were fine with it. You actually feared the night and the fact you would sleep together.

You dozed off in the bath and only when the water was rather cool you jerked awake. His steps headed towards the bathroom made you jump to your feet and wrap a towel around your frame, hugging it firmly.

He did not open the door, however. There was only light knock.

“Just a moment,” you answered, drying yourself as quickly as possible and throwing over your old clothes. Because of course you would forget to bring fresh clothes to the fresher. When you opened the door, he was not waiting for you anymore.

Instead, you were greeted with changed sheets and a mug of tea waiting for you. The sun was shining outside, even if blended with twilight colors. It brought you some relief. It only meant you did not sleep as much as you thought at first.

“I am so sorry,” you muttered, not really sure what to say next. Kriffs! You were not sure you were apologizing for taking too long in the fresher or for kissing him back — for wanting more than you should possibly want. Wetting your lips, you began, “I did not realize I was this tired.”

He did not give you a reply, but you were getting used to that. The General did not strike as a man who engaged in small talk. Everything he did was extremely measured, his words could not work otherwise.

When he did speak though, you were rather astonished, “you should sleep.”

“No.”

You were afraid of staying awake during the night. Horrified at the thought of him trying something. And, more than that, utterly terrified at the prospect of giving in.

After that kiss — you almost kissed, it was barely a kiss —, it was no using denying how much you were attracted to him.

It has been so long…

The fact you pleasured yourself from time to time, when the need became too unbearable did not mean you did not crave for… well… the real thing.

It’s not the same as to say you could only reach orgasms with a man, but you missed more than the sex itself. To embrace someone during the act, having limbs, lips and hands intertwining… sharing the same air… hearts beating at the same rhythm… it was not something that one could simply put into words.

“I am not tired.”

If he was a lesser man, he would have rolled his eyes. Needless to say, you were just being contradictory. It was obvious you were exhausted. You said so yourself before.

He merely rose his light brows and stared at you.

As a confirmation, a yawn escaped you.

Blast!

“Perhaps I should?”

Your words were met with no reply. As expected. He had already left the bedroom. As expected too. And sleep found you quicker and sweeter than ever. Once again, as expected.

The sun was no longer in the sky when you stirred awake. It had been a dreamless sleep and yet you had the sensation you had not rested at all. You figured out that it was somewhat related to the fact that you were quite worried about the upcoming night arrangements.

Would he… Would he be too mad if you simply did not take any rest at all? You could always use the excuse of needing to check onto something — something about healing, perhaps? — or simply leave the bed by saying you were rested enough not to need any sleep. Not likely.

Still…

A voice in your mind reasoned you had to try. The other half of you — the sensible one — told you to let him do what he must. There was no need to be afraid of it. Sex was only… natural. And straightened bonds between couples too. And maybe, just maybe, it was time to let go of your fear of getting physical. Men all around the galaxy used sex as a means to achieve something, so why couldn’t you?

The very idea made your stomach churn.

You can do it, (Y/N)!

Yawning, you took a moment to get yourself situated. Eyes open now, you quickly spotted him sitting on the armchair. Part of you expected to find him focused on the datapad — his favorite companion for the last few days; not that you were complaining —, instead, his icy blue eyes were set upon you.

“Good evening,” you said, in a form of a short greeting. What else could you say? It was so awkward to look at him after that… You gulped, it was even more awkward to gaze at his lips. It did not go unnoticed by your attentive eyes how full his lower lip was… And how soft it looked.

Tasted.

He did not reply again. Arms positioned over his thighs, and hands supporting his chin, he seemed very comfortable but no less intimidating in his scrutiny of you — did he ever look otherwise?

You sat straight in the bed, the sheets covering most of you — and even if you were completely clothed, you felt naked under his smoldering analysis of you. And not in a sexual way. It made you more nervous it was not the case.

“By your reaction earlier, I gather we are not very much…” He gave the impression to be choosing his words carefully; they made your heart thunder in your chest. “Intimate.”

That had you biting your bottom lip.

Mother of moons!

What were you supposed to say?

Did he expect you to say how many times a week you have been intimate before the accident that nearly reaped his life?

You had to tread carefully. If you said too much, he could be surprised and if you said too little, he could be offended. Men were always easily insulted when it came to their prowess in bed.

More than that, you really did not know anything about him in such… aspects. Kriffs! You had never seen him naked before! At least, not while he was awake and moving about. Of course, it would bring some color to your cheeks. You were no virgin, by no means, but it did not mean you partook in ogling the other sex very much.

When you did not respond, he moved his hands to the armrests. Your lack of reply forcing him to sit straight. He was bothered.

You shuddered.

“Or that you did not enjoy our intimacy that much.”

Talk about awkward.

What were you supposed to say to that? Either way he could take your answer as an insult.

“I did.” Your voice was small, low and almost a whisper. Not very believable. Kriffs! You did not believe yourself, you doubted he would.

He took a moment to reply, his face as cool as a dead star. His eyes, however, were very tempestuous. They did nothing to hide how conflicted he was.

“Bad liar.”

His words left his lips in a whisper as well. You had to strain yourself to hear them. When you did understand what he said, your heart was on the verge of leaving your mouth.

“Excuse me?” Your brows were arched. Your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. “My Lord? I don’t under—

“You are a bad liar,” he replied, this time in a reasonable tone. “You refuse to look at me when you are not telling the truth.”

To that, you had no response.

Again, what could you say? What did he expect you to say? You simply had no clue. He was a very difficult person to read. Probably the most difficult of all.

You rose from the mattress and walked towards him. It was obvious that this conversation could not happen with the two of you so far from each other. He mimicked you and stood to his feet. He was much taller than you, towering above you as you stopped in front of him.

Clearing your throat, you began, “My Lord, it’s just…” and the words died on your mouth. You shook your head and closed your eyes when he placed both hands on your shoulders.

Your head shot up; eyes completely focused on his. There was some feeling there… In his bluish orbs. Something you could quite not grasp but made your heart ache for him.

It made you realize that his questions were not only related to his masculinity. Your lack of answer bruised his ego, too, but not only that. There was a part of that man that strived for greatness and perfection in just about everything. To have his wife — a possession to do as he pleased; to control, for what more were wives in most societies? As a lone child of an influent family, even if in Dantooine you had close to nothing, back in your home country you were almost royalty — you learned quite early in life the role of a woman and a wife — sexually unsatisfied would be… inexcusable.

How could one man reach the top of the most influential organization in the whole galaxy and still be unable to please his wife?

“Am I…” He seemed to choke in his words, as if the mere utterance of them would disgrace him greatly — and for generations to come, depending on your answer. “Incapable?”

Your eyes widened. You sucked in a breath.

“What? No!” You took his hands in yours, entwining your fingers together. The simple act seemed to ease his fears a little. However, that icy stare was back and focused on you. That made you almost recoil. Instead, you found some ounce in courage within you that you did not know where it came from. “My Lord that’s—” You interrupted yourself, looking for the best words. You decided to take another approach and say something truthful. Or as truthful as you could be with him. “I know you have no reason to believe me and that you think I am a bad liar, but so far in your relationship you gave me no reason to mistrust you, even if you hid some aspects of your previous life from me.”

There was silence from his part, as if he mulled over what you said, trying to make some sense of it.

Those were… half-truths… So far, in your relationship of merely a few days with him, he never gave you any reason to mistrust him — excepting for your dying fear of him killing you. Perhaps you should continue to stick to half-truths… They were more likely to work.

You just would have to say you did enjoy your sex life. Perhaps you should speak of your ex-husband? The mere thought made your stomach churn.

No.

That was a line you would not cross.

“That doesn’t explain your reaction to me.” You bit your bottom lip. Blast! He was quick. He brought both of his hands to your face to prevent you from looking down. “Nor explains whether I am unable to perform or not.”

“My Lord!”

He was… Insufferable!

“I assure you can perform quite fine.”

“Quite fine,” he repeated your words with disgust. He brought his fingers to your lips, tracing them slowly. His own curled up in a snarl, “is not enough.”

Your eyes were widened.

“Believe me when I say I am not unsatisfied.”

You saw him opening his mouth, ready with a reply, and instead continued. “I am more than satisfied.” You were firm in your words. Taking a deep breath, you continued with something that was completely true. “My giddiness and abrupt reaction earlier have nothing to do with your ability to perform.”

He seemed to take what you said in consideration. His fingers never stopping their caresses over your face. When his tips found your lips again, your tongue — out of its own volition — brushed his skin.

You did not know if the shudder came from your body or his.

He stepped forward, closing the gap between the two of you. You had to crane your neck to watch his face. He was handsome, not classically, but enough to command every attention where he went. You figured out it was something he was probably very skilled at: commanding people. Part of you — a baser, ridiculous and primitive piece; needy even — wondered if he was good at commanding in bed as well.

The General of the First Order really looked like someone who enjoyed seizing control in and out of the bed. Especially in the bed.

The mere thought sent a tingly sensation straight to your core.

Your eyes averted to his lips. His plump and inviting lower lip.

Kiss him.

Your mind said in a whisper.

Kiss him.

Your mind continued to whisper to you. A derisive, manipulative and wanton murmur. It would not leave you alone until you did its biding.

However, to kiss him you would have to pull him down — to stand on your toes would not do — and part of you were curious to know how he reacted when commanded.

“Kiss me.”

He blinked once. His light eyelashes beautifully outlined his bluish orbs. You did not know if it was a mere impression, or if their color was more vivid now. Shining with something akin to realization.

“Kiss me now.”

That was bold.

Even for you.

There was no time to blush, however, for he crashed his lips against yours. It was a demanding kiss — one that screamed that even if he did your biding, you were no more in control than a non-force sensitive was of a lightsaber —, not a meager brush of lips. He was greedy, thrusting his tongue inside your mouth and drawing out of you sweet sounds of pleasure.

One of his hands moved to your throat, holding you in place — you realized that he quite enjoyed having his fingers securely positioned in that area; it gave him total control of you — and the other moved to your lower back, keeping you close to him.

Your fingers were in his hair, entwined in his soft, ginger locks. Part of you wanted to guide him and have him at your mercy. You were used to be dominant in the bed, but it felt… odd and… exhilarating to be dominated.

He was so unlike everyone else — controlling but passionate —, taking his time with you. Alternating between languish brushes of lips and deep thrust of his tongue inside your mouth. The only constant was the fact that he did not allow you to dominate him even for a second.

You moaned in frustration, which caused the General to smirk — was he smirking? That smug bastard. He walked back to the armchair, with you still in his arms, your lips still interlocked and leaned against the armrest. Positioned with one of his legs between yours, he attacked your mouth once again.

His hand returned to your throat, and yours found his chest — you did not realize your fingers met with bare skin until it was too late. He distracted you with his skilled lips — he was thoroughly making love to your mouth. The burning sensation in your core was too much, causing you to bounce against his thigh. You had to seek some sort of relief. It was just too much. You did not know what to think, what to feel or what to do. And in fact, thinking was the last you did when you felt his fingers brushing against your ribcages.

Jerking away from his touch — but not entirely from his arms — you opened your eyes and stared at him. At this very second, you did not think he was your husband and that kind of intimacy was more than natural — kriffs! You wanted to move to such… level earlier… — and merely acted on your impulses.

You kind of expected him to ask how you felt about it, but he hummed quietly in your ear. Two kinds of men asked if their partners were satisfied: they were either too confident in their skills or they lacked faith in themselves. And again, the General did not strike as a man to engage himself in small talk.

His lips skimmed your chin and your cheeks, till they reached your earlobe. He did not trap it between his teeth, but his heavy breathing made you tremble in his arms and your hips to casually bounce against his thigh.

You bit back a moan at the friction.

“I should shave. And get my hair trimmed as well.”

Your fingers itched to touch his face. As if reading your thoughts and sensing your needs, he shifted — forcing your hips up, towards his erection, which caused you to blush beautifully — and held both of your wrists between one of his hands. The other caressed your throat lightly, before he replaced it with his lips.

“I-I… I like this five o’clock gracing your features,” you responded, your legs barely sustained you. If not for one of his hands — the one that was on your throat before — holding you by the waist, you would have collapsed. “And your hair too,” you admitted in a whisper.

He hummed at your words.

Appreciation or doubt? You had no idea.

His lips returned to your ears and the next question came so low you almost had to strain yourself to hear, “It is clear to me I am not sexually impotent, but that does not mean I am fertile.”

You bit your bottom lip.

What in the kriffing hell?

“As far as I know, there is nothing wrong with your health, my Lord.”

How were you supposed to know if he was able to conceive a child with a woman? With you? If you did not think it could get worse, now you were reevaluating your hypothesis.

You felt the beginnings of a terrible headache starting to chime in. Could he just stop? Would he?

“And you?”

Apparently not.

“I am able to conceive, my Lord.”

He was silent for a moment, his arms around you slackened a bit, allowing you to leave the warmth of his arms. Your body protested — it needed this proximity, the blood in your veins sang at the prospect of running faster and pumping your heart even faster in the religious, magic and primitive dance of lovemaking.

You shuddered at the traitorous thought.

The rational side of you knew you should never have asked for that kiss.

A mistake.

That was a terrible mistake.

You walked away, sat on the bed and stared at your feet. You could even reach for the hairbrush, but your hands were trembling.

Everything was happening too fast. The kiss, the burning desire, the need… It had been so long since you last felt such need. And he seemed willing to satiate it for you. More than willing.

Resisting him would prove very difficult. Not only with your body — that was the last of your worries right now — but with your words as well. You feared that one day you would tell him everything — the truth and only the truth — and bring upon Dantooine the worst of disgraces: the First Order again.

“Did you have any child with Syndulla?”

The question startled you and found you with round eyes. You opened your mouth twice, not sure of what to say. And again — what a disgrace! — there you were, telling him the truth, “No.” You wetted your lips and looked down. You found your throat clenching in thin air. The need to cry was overwhelming. You thought about the Kalikori that he never kept too far from himself — a gift for his children; children he would never have —; the Kalikori that disappeared even before he did. “He never wanted a child. He thought— thought that his family was cursed, that any child he may have would suffer greatly and make me suffer as well.”

He was silent.

Very silent for a moment.

“Why?” you asked. You had to speak, least you wanted to cry in front of him. He did not strike you as a man who enjoyed any displays of weakness.

He seemed to hate everything that was weak.

Including a child.

“It occurred to me that you would have abandoned it.”

You opened your mouth, looking for words, but they failed you.

What?

I would never!

That was what you should have said.

Instead, you recalled what you saw in the datapad about him. A bastard child, taken all too soon from the breast of his mother. Parted from the soothing presence of that who gave him his life and welcomed him into the Galaxy.

He did not mean to ask if you had abandoned the child — if you had one —, but if he forced you to abandon your son or daughter. You wondered if he saw himself doing the same unspeakable and vile acts his father committed — not only against the Galaxy, but against his son and ex-lover as well.

It made you understand why he seemed so insecure about you not wanting him. Again, it was more than a bruised ego and toxic masculinity — those were in the equation as well — but he feared to become what he hated and yearned to get rid of his entire life.

What the General really meant with his awkward and even offensive question was if he had — just like the monster he had for a father — yanked your child from your tender arms, and, in the process, killed you as well. It was reasonable to say that a mother who had her child taking from her loving embrace was as good as dead. You had never mothered a child, but you knew you would be scarred for life.

Devasted.

The words came to your lips muffled and you realized you were indeed crying this time. The tears rolling down your face torrentially.

Even if you wanted to control yourself, it was no longer possible.

“You would never.”

His face was still stoic as he walked to you and forced you to stand on your toes, his arms holding you tenderly. Or as tenderly as a man who had been deprived of a mother’s love — or anyone’s love for that matter — could. You embraced him back — strongly, tightly, desperately — your arms encircling his waist as you cried in his chest.

“I am not lying.” You sobbed against his shirt. “You would never take my child away from me. Yours or otherwise. You are not a monster.”

He did not reply immediately. You did not let him to. He ran his hands through your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp in soothing gestures.

…I swear, you are not a monster...

…You are not a monster...

…Not a monster…

It became a muffled mantra in your lips, followed by I am not lying, to which he answered simply with an affectionate kiss to your temples and a sweet whispered confession that had you crying even harder for the rest of the night,

“I know. You are a bad liar.”

A/N - I quite enjoy these first few chapters of Lie to Me. I like the denial, the building relationship, Reader acknowledging her attraction to Hux and how he himself is trying to deal with everything around him. I also miss writing smaller chapters and less complex... Well, I think that’s all. If you like this story, consider reblogging my work. It’d mean a lot xD Chapter 5 - Safety & Danger will be posted next Friday, April 26. Stay tuned.

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