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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 3 years

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The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 10

A/N: I can’t believe I’m already on part 10 for this series and to be honest it’s fun to write. And in all seriousness, the tumblr mobile app needs to allow you to put a read more link. But anyways love you all and let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list! Mwah! 🖤🖤🖤

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, some violence, and blood

“Im sorry, did you just say Madripoor?” You blinked at Zemo, dreading the destination ahead of you.

“What’s up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it’s Skull Island.” Sam questioned, looking between you and Zemo.

“Imagine Mos Eisley from Tatooine but without the aliens and blasters.” You tried to make an analogy. “In other words, a shithole. And to be honest, I’d rather be in Mos Eisley.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.” Bucky explained to Sam.

“It’s kept its lawless ways.” Zemo added before turning to James. “But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

You had a feeling Zemo would suggest all of you going in with different identities, and being the only woman in the group, you already had a wild guess you weren’t going to be ecstatic about yours. You looked to Bucky with a frown on your lips. You knew what Zemo had meant towards him, and you didn’t know how it would affect him to transition back into the person he tried so hard to deviate from. Bucky saw the sympathetic smile you gave him, and he returned it with a look that reassured you that he would be fine.

“Y/n.” Zemo now spoke to you, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “I’m sure you are aware of the conditions.”

“Zemo if you...” Bucky trailed off as he glared at him, silently warning him to watch what he says next.

Sam and Bucky kept their eyes on Zemo, waiting to hear what his suggested persona for you was and ready to beat his ass if he dared to suggest something that would be demeaning to you.

“No way in the pits of Tartarus. I am not going in as an escort.” You voiced with a clenched jaw. “And if it’s eye candy you need, you have Sam.”

Sam gave you a surprised look from your comment, flattered to have you recommend him to be the designated eye candy before going back to the topic at hand. “Hell no Zemo. You’re not having y/n pretend to be an escort.”

“I’m afraid Sam is already going as someone.” Zemo sat back with his hands folded in his lap. “And don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on having you go as an escort, it isn’t befitting of a baron like me. Plus, I figured it would be uncomfortable for you, so I was going to suggest you act as my fiancé, if you are willing of course.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering on the subject. You were a bit relieved in all honesty. But to pretend to be Zemo’s fiancé and be in close and almost physical proximities with him?

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to y/n.” Sam uttered to you.

“I’ll do it.” You confirmed.

“Are you sure?” Zemo asked you again, making sure you were comfortable with acting the part.

“I thought Zemo might step out of line with this one, but we don’t want you to do something that will make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure. I’ve had to do things I wasn’t comfortable with plenty of times in the past.”

Once you had all landed, Zemo decided to stop by a place so that you all may get dressed. You had already packed a dress and a pair of heels with you just in case for situations like these, since this wasn’t the first time you had to dress up for a mission. The dress you wore was a black, burned velvet silk slip-like dress with the velvet print being dark red roses. The dress wasn’t too tight to be constricting of movement and fit perfectly around around your curves. If the situation should arise that you needed to defend yourself, you needed the freedom to be able to move. Going down, the fabric flared slightly at your hips, brushing barely against the floor with your heels on. The skirt was slightly sheer from the bottom of your thighs and down with the floral velvet print, and had a slit going up your right thigh, perfect for kicking and concealing your dagger. The top torso portion of the front of your dress was a spaghetti strap cowl neckline that stopped just above the curve of your breasts, allowing for just a bit of cleavage. Your back was left bare, stopping at your mid back with thin straps that came across in a pattern. Your dress almost had a Grecian/witchy look from the way it draped over your chest and hips. It wasn’t too formal or too scandalous, it was elegant and classy, and showed just the right amount of skin where it wouldn’t be too revealing.

Even though you completely loathed and detested heels of any kinds, your heels were fairly simple, made of black velvet with straps that came across your ankles and toes. You dreaded heaving to wear them but at the same time you’d stick out like a sore thumb if you wore your docs with these. Perhaps you should’ve brought your nicer sandals, but it was too late now. You kept on your mother’s necklace and wore a set of amethyst drop earrings, throwing on a silver cuff bracelet on each wrist. Your hair was let loose to conceal your short sword that you hid on your back underneath your dress, the hilt resting right between your shoulder blades. You prayed that having your hair down would cover the scars and the sword you had on your back. But you were mostly focused about the scars, you failed to mention them to the guys about it since it was something that was hard for you to share. The only makeup you had on was some eyeshadow and mascara to darken your eyes, very little blush, and a lip tint.

The last thing to do was to put on some perfume, so you spritzed on your favorite oil based one that you had from Olympus on your pulse points. The scent was filled with incense-like scents like dragon’s blood, sage, crushed red roses, sandalwood, ghostly white musk, absinthe, almonds, and heady gardenia. It wasn’t as harsh as the common alcohol based ones, this one was more earthy and ancient, and every time you wore it, the scent lingered and heads turned. You gave yourself a once over when you were done, taking in a deep breath before heading out to join the others.

You became nervous as you saw them gathered together, talking amongst themselves as they haven’t noticed you yet. You rarely ever wore dresses these days, especially of the kind you were wearing now which left you feeling bare and exposed even though the dress wasn’t at all much revealing. So as you approached them, you couldn’t help picking at your fingers in anxiety.

The men turned at the sound of your heels clicking against the ground, and when they laid their eyes on you, they couldn’t help but gawk with their mouths parted open, as if they had seen the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth. You chewed on the inside of your cheeks as you saw how they stared at you.

“Wow.” Sam was the first to say something. “You look like a million bucks.”

“What? Never seen a woman in a dress before?”

“No, I’ve just never seen you in a dress before.” Sam answered. “You’re always dressed like some hippie/librarian, with your bands shirts, sweaters, plaid pants and jackets.”

“Haha vary funny.”

“Also since when did you have muscles?” Sam noticed as he poked your bare arm. “And since when did you have a tattoo?” He observed the mark you had on your upper right arm, right below your shoulder. It was the mark that was given to you to signify your Olympian status and what you represented. It was about the color that henna left behind after you wiped the paste off your skin, the color of ginger and bronze. The center of your mark was a lightning bolt, which represented a child of Zeus. Below that was your symbol, the torch and the triple moons.

“Since when did you start asking so many questions? But yeah, I’ve always had muscles Sam, I was trained in combat since I was, you could say 9 years old in human years. Also, technically everyone has them, it’s what allows us to move and lift things. And that.” You pointed to your tattoo. “Is my goddess mark, not a tattoo. Every Olympian god has one and they each have their personal symbol that represents them.”

“Wait, so you’ve been trained since you were a kid?” Bucky looked at you to clarify what he heard as they all started to head out.

“Technically, everyone on Olympus starts training that young. Then, when they become of age, a tournament is held to display their skills, following a ceremony after, to celebrate their victory.” You explained as you walked beside them.

The four of you were currently walking on the bridge that led to Madripoor. You could see the city’s skyline out in the distance, the cyberpunk like buildings lighting up the night sky.

“Do you need my coat?” You heard Zemo say beside you, making you look at him.

“Sorry?”

“Do you need my coat?” He repeated himself, referring to how your arms were bare against the cool night. “I wouldn’t want you to get cold.”

You stared at him, stunned from the kind gesture as you tried to form words to say. “Oh uh.....I appreciate the gesture, but I’m fine actually. I’m not that cold.” Though you didn’t want to admit it, you actually would’ve liked to try on his coat, because in all honesty it was a damn nice coat.

“We have to fix this.” You heard Sam say with irritation visible in his voice. “I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.”

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing.” Zemo mentioned as he pulled out his phone to show Sam. “The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“He even has a bad nickname. Hell, he does look like me, though.” Sam observed the photo.

“You smell this?”

“Yeah, what is that? Acid?” Sam sniffed the air as you did the same.

“Smells rancid.” You scrunched your nose at the smell.

“Madripoor. No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There’s no margin for error.” Zemo instructed as a black car pulled up in front of you. “High Town’s that way. Not a bad place if you wanna visit, but Low Town’s the other way.”

“Let me guess. We don’t have any friends in High Town.” Sam remarked as he opened the door for the back seat.

“Y/n. A moment please, if you will.” Zemo uttered to you.

You stopped in your tracks, seeing Bucky and Sam stand on either side of the car doors, looking between the two of you and especially Zemo, with caution. You nodded your head at them, signaling you were fine and that they can get seated. And though they sat themselves inside the car, that didn’t stop them from keeping their eyes glued to Zemo to make sure he didn’t pull anything stupid.

“What’s the issue?” You turned to Zemo, giving him your attention.

“Since you will be portraying my fiancé, there’s a certain key element you will be needing to complete the image.” You watched as he pulled out a ring from his coat pocket, displaying it in front of you. “If I may?”

You stared at Zemo blankly before nodding your head and holding out your left hand for him. You knew this was only for a show, but you couldn’t help but stiffen as he delicately held your hand with his gloved one before slipping the ring onto your ring finger.

“There.” Hi smiled softly at you, his hand still holding yours. “Now you look the part.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, his thumb brushing against your knuckles, leaving behind a trail of warmth as he gazed down at you. Zemo swore he could have gotten lost in the violet swirls and gold flecks of your eyes forever, which now sparkled against Madripoor’s lit up skyline, the neon city and the places he’s visited not even coming close to the beauty he held before him.

You tried not to blush under his gaze as you gave him a polite smile before slipping your hand out of his. “I should probably change my eyes huh.” You remembered, changing your eyes to a normal color known to earth. “Should I hide the scar?” You asked him, referring to the one on your face.

“I think you should leave it. It suits you, and besides, you never know who might recognize you without it.”

Nodding your head at him, you headed to the car and settling in beside Bucky as Zemo followed, getting in the passenger seat in front of you. In the car ride there, you glanced down at the ring Zemo slipped on your finger, it was definitely a beautiful elegant ring, with a rose gold band and a pear cut garnet in the center that had diamonds that accented the bottom. Once you arrived in the city, you walked through the neon lit streets beside Zemo while Sam and Bucky followed behind. You loosened up your body as you went, swaying your hips slightly as you tried your best not to walk like a bodyguard and look threatening as everyone’s eyes followed the four of you strolling through the streets.

“Here we are.” Zemo announced, stopping in front of a bar before speaking to Bucky in Russian. “Ready to comply… Winter Soldier?”

As you went in, Zemo leaned in to whisper in your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck and startling you as he spoke in a hushed tone. “I want to apologize in advance, forgive me.”

You looked at him with furrowed brows to question what he meant until you felt his gloved hand slide across your back before resting on your waist, pulling you closer to his side. You noticed how his hand fumbled after brushing across your sword as he gave you a questioning look. What was that on your back? Did you really conceal a full on sword on your back underneath your dress? On your way to the bar table you saw people stare as you went through, some of them gawking in surprise at Bucky, or the winter soldier as he was now portraying, while the slimy men in the area roamed their eyes over your body hungrily. Zemo noticed your uneasiness from the way your muscles tensed, though your face didn’t show a sign of it, and glared at the men who dared to lay their eyes on you, only pulling you closer to him to prove that you were with him while Bucky and Sam noticed this as well and positioned themselves where you were blocked from the view of your peers, allowing you to breathe a little better as you approached the bar.

“Hello, gentlemen.” The bartender greeted you all. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed.” Zemo answered for him. “We have business to do with Selby.”

“The usual?”

Sam nodded his head.

“And for the lady?”

“Um Something fruity.” You answered with a flirtatious smile, silently hoping they had something like that on the menu and that you hadn’t blown their cover by ordering the wrong drink.

The bartender handed you what looked to be a pineapple martini and you internally thanked the gods for your sheer bit of luck, taking the drink and thanking the bartender with another smile. You watched as he went to work on Sam’s drink, pulling out of a jar what definitely was a snake. You gulped, your stomach feeling nauseous as you saw the bartender cut open the dead snake, taking out its guts and throwing it in the shot glass. You were mortified to say the least, snakes were one of your symbols and you had owned plenty of the gentle little creatures. You shot Sam a sympathetic look once you saw his expression.

“Cheers.” Zemo held up his glass while Sam stared at his before gathering the courage to drink it all in one go. If Sam wasn’t going to throw up, you were going to do it for him.

While your eyes were trained on Sam’s expression, you felt someone breathe over your neck before feeling a clammy hand graze across your ass.

“Hey baby-“

Your eyes widened before you grabbed the wrist of the man behind you in one quick motion, twisting his arm to an unnatural position as you yanked it away from your body, causing the sleazy looking individual let out a yelp of pain. You would’ve crushed his wrist like crumpled paper if Zemo hadn’t put a cautionary hand on your arm as he whispered to you. “Careful now.”

You let go of the man’s wrist before shoving him aside like a pile of garbage. If their identity wasn’t at risk of being revealed, Zemo, Sam, and Bucky would have gone over there and beat the guy up after you were done with him.

“I got word from high. You ain’t welcome here.” You watched from behind Zemo as a bearded man approached him.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo gestured towards Bucky.

“New haircut?”

“Or bring Selby for a chat.”

The man glanced between Zemo and Bucky before leaving.

“A power broker? Really?” Sam turned to Zemo.

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.”

“Do you know him?” You asked.

“Only by reputation. In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner.”

Another man was approaching in your direction, most likely to kick you all out or worse, and after following your gaze, Zemo turned to Bucky, speaking to him in Russian just as the man laid a hand on his shoulder. “Winter Soldier. Attack.”

You stood back, watching as Bucky grabbed the dude’s arm and twisted it back. You refrained yourself from intervening as Bucky took down the men that fought against him.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” Zemo commented to you and Sam.

Bucky slammed one of the men down on the counter. And as you heard the clicking of guns being loaded, your defensive mode nearly kicked in as you almost reached for your sword before Zemo stopped you.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.” Zemo whispered to you both before turning to Bucky and speaking in Russian again. “Well done soldier.”

You let your arm drop back down to your side, not a single change in your expression as you eyed everyone around you.

“Selby will see you now.” The bartender spoke up after getting off the phone.

Zemo gave him a thanks, nodding you over and holding out his hand for you to take as you went to his side again, Bucky and Sam following after you. You went through a back door, going down a dark corridor with Zemo’s hand on your back as he guided you through.

“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” You heard a woman’s voice speak, turning your head to see an older woman in a suit with short white hair lounging back on the coach with her security around her.

“Not a demand. An offer.” Zemo sat down on the couch before waving you over when he saw you standing near Sam. “Come sit schatzi.”

You straightened up, plastering a smile on your face as you went over to him. Selby’s eyes followed you curiously as you placed your hand in his, your eyes rapidly moving in nervousness for what area would be the most appropriate area to sit. Were you......were you supposed to sit on his lap? Is that how couples work? No, that would be inappropriate. Before things got awkward, you quickly plopped down on the empty spot next to him, crossing over your leg in a way so that it draped over his, leaving your thigh completely exposed from the slit in your dress, save for the dagger that still remained hidden. Sam and Bucky widened their eyes at what you just did, while Zemo stiffened at this sudden movement from you as you also draped one arm around his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him. Were you even doing this right?

“A lot has changed since you were here last.” Selby observed the two of you before her eyes landed on your ring. “Who’s this pretty little thing?”

“This.” Zemo looked at you with a loving look, throwing an arm around your waist to draw circles on your bare back, while his other hand rested on your thigh, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps on your skin as you felt shivers go down your spine. “Is my fiancé. Gorgeous isn’t she?”

How long has it been since you were this close and personal to someone? The last you could remember, women still wore corsets and people still rode carriages. You felt your body heat up from being this close to him, and from the way he stroked your back. How was a mortal man able to leave you feeling like this? If he was able to send shivers down your spine with the mere touch on your back with his gloved hand, you wondered how it would feel to have his bare hands on you, just skin to skin. And if you were being honest, you never really were a fan of cologne but his smelled of a deeper earthy tones with hints of musk, and you were surprised and almost ashamed to say you liked how he smelled. You returned the same loving look to Zemo, trying to make it as believable as possible as you ran your fingers through the hair on the back of his head before placing a kiss on his jaw close to his ear. Sam and Bucky couldn’t believe their eyes at the scene before them, the same you who preferred to be a hermit and didn’t go on dates because it involved human interaction, was cuddling up to none other than Helmut Zemo himself. Zemo’s breath faltered a bit from from your touch as he swallowed the lump in his throat, struggling not to break character. Being this close to you, he was able to get a whiff of your perfume and my goodness, Zemo felt as if he could drown in your scent, you smelled like the heavens, not overbearingly sweet, but dark and luxurious and even seductive. Is this what vampires and sirens smelled like when they lured people to their deaths? You raised a brow at Zemo, your heightened senses were picking up on his breathing patterns and heartbeat. Was he getting nervous?

“Extremely.” Selby commented, smirking at the two of you before roaming her eyes over your body. You could feel her taking you in but you kept your eyes trained on the side of Zemo’s face. “Where did you pick this one up? She looks like a fighter.”

“As they say, why not get a woman who can do both. She was part of the Sokovian armed forces, I met her through there.”

“By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?” Selby added after finally taking her eyes off you.

“People like us always find a way, don’t we? I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.” Selby turned to Sam with a flirtatious grin, using her hand in a claw like manner as she let out a purr. “What’s the offer?”

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum.” Zemo got up off the couch, going over to Bucky and holding his chin between his fingers. “And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.”

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or… condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but… things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?”

“Oh. The bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me. But.....” She turned you with a sly smile which made your insides turn. “Throw her in with the package and you have yourself a deal.”

Zemo, Sam, and Bucky turned to look at you with dread upon hearing her words. This wasn’t at all part of the plan.

“No, no no. That wasn’t the deal.” Zemo stepped over to where you sat, blocking you from her. “She’s not for sale.”

“Why not?” Selby raised her brow at Zemo. “I’m pretty sure a man like you could pick up someone else to be your plaything or fiancé or whatever. I like this one in particular.” She turned to you again.

“That’s not-“ Zemo started before he was cut off by Sam’s cellphone vibrating.

You breath was caught in your throat and it felt as if the room had dropped in temperature. You could feel the tension floating around the air as everyone’s eyes were trained on Sam now, making you sit up straight and uncross your legs so that they were planted firmly on the ground. Your hand rested on your thigh just above where the hilt of your dagger was as your eyes darted around the room, watching each and every person like a hawk about to swoop down on its prey. You had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well.

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longing-and-heartache-and-lust · 3 years

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the drug, the dark, the light, the flame, Ch.VI

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A brand new chapter opening the second week of posting of my work for this year’s @geraskierbigbang in collaboration with the incredible @gen-syz-art as my artist ✨

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The morning brings a thunderstorm with it.

The treetops of the tall pines of the forest outside bend under the gusts of wind, and the heavy, dark clouds cover the sky as far as eyes can see.

Geralt wakes from a clap of thunder, sitting up on the bed and pulling the fur blankets up to his chest to keep out the cold draft that seeps in through the window that he’d cracked open for the night.

Heavy raindrops clatter against the glass, and just as Geralt gets out of bed to close the window, unwilling to get the curtains wet, the steel-grey sky is cut through by a bolt of lightning that crawls across the clouds like a spiderweb.

Ever since Kaer Morhen, thunderstorms have been Geralt’s favourite kind of weather, the sheer force of nature tangible in the air itself.

He comes closer to the window, taking in a deep breath, just letting the rain-heavy air linger in his lungs for a long moment before closing the window.

In this weather, there aren’t many places that he could go.

Even if Jaskier was willing to let him ride into a storm like that, which Geralt doubts, Roach would sooner bite him than leave the warm, dry stables.

And though Geralt knows that he should be perturbed by his inability to leave, he just can’t bring himself to be.

He fixes the covers on the bed and dresses up quickly, leaving his weapons and armour in the room after contemplating for a few long moments whether or not that would feel like claiming it for himself. Sleeping in a room is one thing, he’d changed more inns that he could even begin to count, but leaving something in a room to then come back for it is another.

But spending another day in full armour when he doesn’t need it, like he did yesterday, seems unbearable, so he sighs but opts for just his worn black shirt before leaving the bedroom and heading down the hallway towards the stairs and into the library.

It’s really the only place that he can think of when looking for Jaskier.

The mansion is quiet, safe for the sounds of the storm outside, and like this, it seems even bigger than it actually is.

Geralt makes his way down the long hallway of the ground floor, thinking - though in the very back of his mind - that he’s getting used to this place, but when he reaches the library, he finds it empty.

It’s only a little before midday so surely, Jaskier must be out of bed. And if he isn’t, how is Geralt to find him in an estate this big?

Geralt stays in the library for a few more minutes, recalling everything Jaskier had told him about the mansion yesterday and trying to decide where to look for him, until he picks up the sound of the younger man’s voice, coming from somewhere at the other side of the mansion.

Having no other options, Geralt follows it, making his way through rooms and hallways, until he finds himself in front of one of the doors that lead to the garden, Jaskier’s voice now clear and close as he calls for his dogs.

By the gods, Geralt thinks, Is he really out in the garden in this weather?

He pushes the door open, the wind fighting him as he does, and steps outside, into the heavy, pleasantly cold air.

Jaskier doesn’t seem to hear him over the rain and wind, standing at the edge of the porch, where he’s still hidden by the roof, and calling for Asra and Lucio to come back to him, laughing as he watches them chase each other in the rain, wet to the bone.

He’s wrapped in an emerald-green dressing gown that billows and flaps in the wind like giant wings, and Geralt has to duck to the side not to get caught in the folds of the fabric as he comes closer. Though he tries his best to make his presence known, Jaskier still yelps in surprise when he reaches out to touch his shoulder.

“Oh, Melitele,” he mutters, the smile never leaving his lips even as he presses a hand over his heart. “Do you always sneak up on people, Witcher?”

He doesn’t look cold but his hands are freezing when he reaches out to shove Geralt in the shoulder with no real force, and despite himself, Geralt wants to pull him closer.

“I wasn’t trying to scare you,” he says instead, lifting his hands in surrender. “I thought I’d find you in the library. What are you doing outside in this weather?”

Jaskier pulls the robe tighter around himself and gestures to the dogs rolling in the wet grass, their fur stained seemingly beyond all salvation.

“They’re usually well-behaved,” he sighs. “But today they just ran away from me as soon as I opened the door of my bedroom. I don’t know, maybe they’re so excited because you’re around and they think that they’re now allowed anything they want.”

Another lightning tears through the sky, and Jaskier lifts his eyes, fascinated, only to gasp at the clap of thunder that comes a second later, so loud that Geralt feels like the windows of the mansion shake in their frames.

“Do you want me to help you get them back inside?” the witcher asks when the last rumbles fade.

A gust of wind nearly rips one side of the robe out of Jaskier’s hand, but he manages to keep hold of it, laughing.

“What’s the point now?” he asks. “They’re already dirty, might as well let them enjoy it.”

That’s… well, that’s true, Geralt supposes.

He still can’t stop thinking about the previous day, about all those little touches and smiles, about the morning in the library, and he’s both dying to see what would happen if he were to just reach his hand out, and is absolutely terrified of that idea, all at the same time.

He wonders what Jaskier would do if he were to wrap his arms around him, keep him from the cold. Or, alternatively, what he would do if Geralt were to pull him out into the rain right now. The dogs were, after all, having a lot of fun, soaking under the downpour.

No, Jaskier would probably never forgive him for that.

“Let’s go inside,” he says instead, reaching out before he can stop himself to put his hand on Jaskier’s forearm, getting his attention. “It’s cold out here.”

Jaskier’s eyes snap up to meet his, and though he hesitates for a moment, giving his dogs a wary look, another gust of wind makes him nod, leaving Asra and Lucio to themselves.

As he turns to the door, Geralt’s hand slips down his forearm but before the contact is lost, Jaskier catches his fingers, locking them with his own to pull the witcher after him back into the house. Geralt follows obediently, though his mind races, trying to catch up with the sudden warmth that spills through his body.

“Oh, you’re right, this is so much better,” Jaskier sighs once the door closes behind them and they’re met with the warmth of the hallway.

He’s still holding Geralt’s hand, and that’s all the witcher can concentrate on as they make their way up the stairs and into one of the smaller libraries which is really more of a reading nook now that Geralt thinks of it.

There’s a velvet settee by the fireplace but Jaskier just snatches the cushions from it and throws them onto the soft rug right in front of the hearth, plopping down onto one of them.

“We’ll be much warmer here than downstairs,” he says, letting go of Geralt’s hand.

He moves his wrist, the fabric of his dressing gown moving in waves of silk, and Geralt’s medallion suddenly stirs against his chest, but before his mind can fully register it, it stills again, and Jaskier is reaching for the matchbox on the mantel to start a fire.

Geralt shakes his head, coming back to his senses, and casts Igni, the logs in the hearth catching fire immediately.

“Trying to impress me with your little witcher tricks?” Jaskier teases, undoing the belt of his robe and shrugging it off.

Geralt hates himself for being disappointed by there being a chemise underneath.

“Perhaps,” he says, leaning back to rest against the settee. “Depends on whether it’s working or not.”

He wonders, distantly, if Jaskier would come closer if he were to open his arms and invite him in, but he can’t bring himself to try. Being led here by the hand doesn’t mean he’s allowed anything more. It might not mean anything at all.

“Well,” Jaskier murmurs, turning to face Geralt and resting his shoulders against the warm bricks of the fireplace. “Since it looks like we’re going to be here for a while, why don’t you show me what else you’re capable of, and then we’ll decide, hm?”

Fuck, Geralt thinks, Is he flirting with me or is he just being nice?

He shrugs with one shoulder, watching the younger man from under his lashes.

“Isn’t much that I can show you right now, I’m afraid,” he says. “I wouldn’t want to use Aard inside, and mind control has never really been my thing, so Axii is also a no.”

He thinks about Yrden, for just a second, and the picture that flashes in his mind is so tempting that he raises his hand to cast the Sign well before he gets the chance to actually think it through.

“I could do this, though,” he grins, watching the way Jaskier gasps as his magic forms into a glowing chain of purple, binding the younger man’s wrists together.

Geralt only allows it to last for a heartbeat, and then it’s gone, but the image imprints somewhere deep in his mind.

“Well, well, well, Witcher,” Jaskier murmurs, rubbing at his wrist. “Consider me impressed.”

There’s more distance between them than Geralt would necessarily like right now but, as if having read his thoughts, Jaskier shifts a little, until he can brush his ankle up Geralt’s shin, letting it rest somewhere close to his knee, still touching.

Geralt’s heart skips a beat at that but Jaskier doesn’t seem to be paying it much attention, like it’s as easy for him as breathing. And it probably is, Geralt assumes. People living in estates like this are born courtiers.

But it’s impossible not to play along, so carefully, still unsure on whether or not he’s allowed, Geralt reaches out to wrap his fingers around Jaskier’s ankle, brushing his thumb back and forth over the protruding bone.

Jaskier’s eyes sparkle in response but he doesn’t do anything else, just allows for it, closing his eyes and resting the back of his head against the wall of the fireplace, warming himself with its flames.

It’s quiet, safe for the storm outside, and Geralt almost feels peaceful like this, close enough to touch but far enough for him to be able to breathe. He shouldn’t be here, he knows it, but if he is, he might as well let himself have this.

A few minutes go by in comfortable silence, the warmth of the fire slowly filling up the room, and it’s only when there is another loud clap of thunder outside that Jaskier asks:

“Where are you going after you leave here?”

That is a question that Geralt had been asking himself through the good part of the night before he’d fallen asleep yesterday.

“Gelibol,” he says because that is still the only option that he can think of that makes sense. “Or back towards Roggeveen and Novigrad, there are always lots of drowners and water hags in those areas this time of year.”

He thinks, suddenly, about how he never mustered up the courage to ask Jaskier about those rumours of him being an illegitimate prince. Not that he would tell, of course. Things like that weren’t meant for anyone’s ears, Geralt was sure of that.

But perhaps, if he were to tread lightly.

“I don’t usually gravitate towards Tretogor, but maybe this time around I will pass through, see if there are any contracts,” Geralt says with a shrug. “But that town is just too big, don’t you think?”

Geralt watches Jaskier’s emotions carefully, strives to register every single one to get his answer. The kings of Redania have been residing in Tretogor for what seems like forever. And a prince - legitimate or not - would surely have been to court, walked through the city.

But Jaskier’s expression gives him nothing.

“I do prefer Oxenfurt,” he says, locking his hands above his head and stretching with a soft little rumble that finds its way under Geralt’s skin. “Tretogor is too political, the only place you can find music or any sort of fun there is the court. I wouldn’t be able to live there for longer than a few weeks.”

The only place you can find music or any sort of fun there is the court, echoes in Geralt’s mind.

A thrill of both excitement and horror runs through the witcher, and he darts a quick look down, where his thumb is still brushing over the bone of Jaskier’s ankle, thin and delicate.

Would it change anything if he really was who the people in town thought he was? Would Geralt have to let go of him then?

Carefully, he asks:

“And you’ve been to court a lot?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“Enough to know that it’s too big. The ballrooms alone are so vast that it’s impossible to concentrate on anything, too many people and sounds and colours mixed into one.”

He shifts just a little and with him shifts the fabric of his breeches revealing a thin strip of pale skin on his ankle. Geralt sneaks a glance down, dying to run his thumb over it, feel the warmth of Jaskier’s skin, and when he finally does, it sends sparks up his fingers.

Jaskier watches him with a gleam in his eyes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and though Geralt knows that it’s deliberate, he also can’t deny the fact that it’s working. That it makes him wonder what it would feel like to touch his own lips to it.

What it would taste like.

Except, of course, he’s not allowed to find out.

“Why are you asking about court?” Jaskier asks, his head tilted slightly to the side.

Because the harder I try not to think about it, the more I feel like you really are a prince, Geralt wants to say.

But before he can think of what to say instead, Asra and Lucio, dripping wet, run into the room, splashing water and dirt everywhere, their paw prints all over the polished wooden floors.

Jaskier laughs, shielding himself from their wet noses, and jumps up to his feet, out of Geralt’s reach.

And just like that, the magic is broken.

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier big bang #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the drug the dark the light the flame #my writing #calton writes

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

Ineffable Holiday 2020 - “Schemes and Dreams and Kisses and Things” (Rated PG)

Summary: In the hopes of getting a first kiss from Crowley, Aziraphale hangs the largest ball of mistletoe he can find over his desk. And then ... he waits. (1514 words)

Notes: Written for the Ineffable Holiday 2020 prompt 'mistletoe'.

Read on AO3.

Aziraphale looks up.

He looks up again.

He double-checks obsessively to see that it’s still there.

Why wouldn’t it be? He hung it up only a few hours ago. Then he checked on it – twice. He looks, on average, three times every five minutes.

His neck is beginning to smart.

He tacked it up good and tight. There's no reason for it to fall. Besides, if it falls, it would fall right on him. No need to keep checking.

That’s what he tells himself.

But a minute later, he checks again.

Aziraphale had waited until after the wine had been drunk, the cookies eaten, and a sated Crowley had retreated to the sofa in the bookshop's backroom before he hung the mistletoe directly above his desk chair, making sure it was in the perfect spot for Crowley to catch him sitting under it. It's the largest ball of mistletoe he could find - a massive floral bezoar wrapped in red velvet ribbon and adorned with a silver bell. Three poor birds have flown into his window already, attempting to get at the thing.

There should be no escaping this for either of them.

Aziraphale is determined.

He has every intention of sitting underneath the darned thing until Crowley gives him a kiss. On the lips, the forehead, the cheek - it doesn't matter. Just some combination of Crowley's mouth on his skin would be deemed acceptable.

Crowley and Aziraphale have been more than casual visitors in one another’s daily lives going on five months now. One might even say they’ve become closer to intendeds. In the traditional sense. Crowley drops by, they have tea, they talk, but that's the extent of it. To date, as far as securing a kiss is concerned, they haven't even come close.

Sadly, mistletoe is the best idea he’s had for getting one.

Of course, he should probably learn to say the words, “Crowley, I really wish you would kiss me,” before relying on props like this semi-parasitic shrub. Regardless, he’s going to sit there, book in hand, and wait for Crowley to notice. Because what’s the use of mistletoe if Aziraphale points it out? He might as well go up and kiss Crowley, right? If that’s the case, he should have done it months ago.

God, Aziraphale realizes with wide-eyed intensity, I should have kissed him months ago.

Aziraphale glances up again and sighs.

Yes, he should have. But when it comes to Crowley, Aziraphale can be a bit of a coward. He's not too proud to admit that.

He’s not going to push. He’s waited 6000 years. What’s another one? Or ten? Or hundred? Now that they’re together, he’s going to let things progress at their own speed.

Even if that speed is the excruciating crawl of another seventy-five human lifetimes.

A groan.

A mumble.

A curse.

A shuffle.

These are the sounds of a demon rising to greet the day.

Well ... the afternoon.

And Aziraphale’s brain stops working.

There had been several close calls when Aziraphale thought Crowley was getting out of bed, but he simply rolled over and fell back to sleep.

Not this time.

Aziraphale feels every step Crowley takes, the wood floor creaking as he navigates a path with eyes shut to Aziraphale's small kitchenette, putting on a pot of water for coffee. Aziraphale hears Crowley hum to himself - a mixture of an ear-worm Christmas tune and a song Aziraphale vaguely recognizes as being performed by the band Queen.

A love song to a velocipede, he thinks?

Aziraphale taps his toe anxiously as he waits ... waits ... waits, shifting positions, trying to figure out which version of him reading Faust seems more casual. With his elbow resting on his desktop? Or him reclining back in his chair?

Aziraphale pops bolt upright when he hears Crowley click off the stovetop and pour. He crosses his legs when Crowley's heavy footsteps head his way, then uncrosses them when Crowley finally emerges. He's dressed in the same clothes he fell asleep in - swanky black trousers and jacket, a grey silk shirt, his glasses fixed firmly onto the bridge of his nose. He miracled the wrinkles out of his clothes and his hair into a semblance of neat waves, but he still looks like he slept in the gutter outside. He walks in carrying two steaming mugs, raising one as an offering and a greeting.

“Uh, hello, my dear,” Aziraphale says, fighting with all his might not to glance upward.

Eyes half-lidded, Crowley sets one of the mugs in front of Aziraphale. “Hey, angel. Here ya go.”

“Oh. Thank you. That's very kind of you." Aziraphale toys with his mug, turning it left and right. The coffee is cloudy, but not with cream. A sniff tells him that Crowley topped off his mug with a generous dollop of Bailey's. Thank goodness! he thinks. Liquid courage. Even with this good fortune staring him in the face, Aziraphale doesn't lift his mug to drink. "Any plans for today, dear boy?"

"Hmm ... not really." Crowley yawns. "Thought I might just hang 'round here, bother you if you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all," Aziraphale says. "It's always wonderful having you around."

"Great. Oh, by the way, your book’s upside down."

"Uh ..." Aziraphale flips to the cover and discovers that yes, indeed, it's upside down. So much for casual. “Thank you.”

"Don't mention it. I'm headin' back to the sofa. You should join me, read your book there."

"Should I?"

"Mm-hmm." Crowley takes a sip from his mug. "How else am I to bother you if we're in two separate rooms?"

Aziraphale nods. "Yes. I see. Well, in that case, I'll be right in."

"Fantastic."

Aziraphale sighs as Crowley passes in front of him, staring into his cup, missing the mistletoe entirely.

That was a disaster, Aziraphale thinks. One for the record books.

Wasn't he determined to sit under the mistletoe until Crowley kissed him?

Yes, but he doesn't want to turn down an invitation to spend time together either.

Maybe he can bring the mistletoe with him into the backroom, sneakily set it up in there. Crowley probably wouldn't notice if he Aziraphale hung it not so sneakily. He looks like he has one foot stuck knee-deep into unconsciousness as is.

A step through the threshold, Crowley stops when he notices Aziraphale isn't following him. He takes a step back and looks at him - book closed around his index finger, cheeks pink, his lower lip pinched between his teeth, eyes aimed down at his feet. He looks embarrassed about something.

And disappointed.

It can't really be because Crowley interrupted his reading. Aziraphale has read that book thousands of times. Which is probably why he was reading it upside down. More of a challenge for him.

But Crowley didn't get up for coffee.

He got up to give Aziraphale his Christmas present.

Early.

Mostly because Crowley can't wait.

If he doesn't give Aziraphale his present now, Crowley will think up a dozen reasons why he should wait.

A dozen bullshite reasons.

"Aziraphale?" he strolls over to his angel, waking inch by inch with every step he takes, and sets his coffee mug on the desk.

"Yes, my dear?" Aziraphale looks up. "What is ...?"

With a sleepy but mischievous smile on his lips, Crowley puts a hand behind Aziraphale's neck and kisses him, drawing out the moment before, giving his angel all the opportunity in the world to tell him to stop.

But Aziraphale says no such thing.

Crowley’s mouth is soft and warm and tastes like Bailey’s, but what Aziraphale loves about this kiss is it’s in no way urgent, the way high-romance novels make people believe all kisses should be. According to the lovely publishers at Harlequin, first kisses must be desperate to be passionate, painfully so.

Crowley kisses Aziraphale as if he's claiming something that has always belonged to him, something he lost track of, and he wants to savor it. Crowley kisses Aziraphale as if they could stand there all morning long, all day long, and kiss, and Crowley would be perfectly content. This is where their Tuesday is going to begin and end - with Crowley kissing Aziraphale.

Crowley pulls away grinning, but Aziraphale looks dumbfounded, not a single word left in his head to express the thoughts sparking off one by one like fireworks.

"Wot?" Crowley asks, mildly self-conscious that his plan may have not gone off the way he'd hoped.

“Uh ... oh ... mistletoe?” Aziraphale asks, eyes darting up towards the obvious culprit behind this moment.

“No,” Crowley says. “I’ve wanted to do that for months now. I just never got the chance.”

"Oh."

"So ... you gonna let me bother you?" Crowley teases, and for the first time, Aziraphale catches on to the fact that bother in this context means kiss.

Perhaps more.

And yes, Aziraphale definitely wants that.

"That sounds ... lovely." He stands from his desk chair and takes Crowley's hand, leaving his ridiculous bundle of mistletoe, and their coffees, behind.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #Ineffable Holiday 2020 #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

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hiddlestonsbabygirl · 4 years

Text

Let It Snow (Steve x reader) part six

In which (Y/N)’s cousin, Bucky, comes home for the holidays with a friend along and decided to stay for Christmas Eve when a heavy snow storm hits home.

Contains: smut!!! And kinky steve!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!

Note: I am so sorry I know I said from the last chapter that I was going to update for the following day but I didn’t because I got so busy and I didn’t have the time and now that I am back I did a few edits and made it a little longer just to make it up to you guys!!! x

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

...

“Merry Christmas!”

Christmas Eve finally came. You and your family were already gathered in the dining room, greeting each other with kisses and warm hugs before settling down to have the midnight dinner. Despite the awkward situation between you and your sister earlier, you both managed to forget what happened and decorated the table beautifully just like you both always did every Christmas and New Year’s. This time you both went with a white and gold theme for the table, and your family decided to wear something with similar colors to match the theme. You all looked like snow and sunlight in your white and golden dining room.

Of course, Steve knew about the theme—that must be followed under strict compliance according to Bucky—and had bought a white button-up that fit him perfectly. You couldn’t help but gawk at how his shirt hugged his thick arms tightly and the buttons looked like they wanted to pull apart with every move he made. But nevertheless, he looked perfect.

Steve caught you staring at him and could only smirk and send you a wink your way, your heart melting in response and your legs suddenly felt like giving up. You were snapped out of your thoughts by a slight thud coming from your right and it was Christina who slammed her glass down, staring right ahead of her with an annoyed look.

You sighed. You didn’t want to spend your Christmas Eve like this.

“Don’t worry,” a voice suddenly spoke from your right. It was Bucky. “I’ll talk to her later.”

“Just...leave her alone, Buck. She’ll get over it soon.” You replied with another sigh.

“Come on, cousin. Lighten up! It’s Christmas!” He exclaimed with a slight nudge of your elbow against his own and you smiled.

“Ah, I know what you need.” He added, pointing a finger at you while his other hand reached for a bottle of wine. “Two glasses of these sweet stuff!”

You giggled. “I’m not planning on getting myself drunk, Buck.”

“(Y/N), it’s only two glasses.” He retorted with a roll of his eyes. “Come on, you might need that extra courage to talk to Steve again. He’s been staring at you all night.”

You could feel your cheeks heat up at Bucky’s words. “Fine.”

One glass. Two. Three. You lost count. You didn’t know what time it was, but your family was slowly heading back to their rooms after hours of eating and laughing and singing Christmas carols by the fireplace. The only ones left downstairs were you, Bucky, Christina, Steve, and your dad and uncles finishing up their beers in the kitchen. You once again volunteered on cleaning up the dishes with a little help from two of your cousins (thank God for them) so the work was quick and finished instantly. Feeling a little lightheaded, you made your way to the living room and was surprised to see Steve and Christina talking—and laughing.

“Oh, Steve, it’s beautiful!” Your sister exclaimed. “Help me put it on?”

Steve had handed her a white velvet box, and inside was a gold necklace with a heart-shaped pendant. He took the necklace from her and Christina turned around, grabbing her hair and pushing it over to the side so her neck was exposed for Steve to see.

You suddenly felt a pang of jealousy as you watched Steve’s hands work with the clasp of her jewelry against her skin, wondering what Christina must have felt the whole time. You quickly turned around and returned to the kitchen where your dad and uncles were cleaning up their mess and were probably heading upstairs to get some sleep afterwards.

“Hey, bub, where you going?” Your dad greeted with a smile as he watched you grab a bottle of wine and a champagne glass from the cupboard.

“Drink.” You grumbled without looking at him.

“Take it easy on the alcohol love.” One of your uncles spoke behind you.

“Nah, let her drink. It’s Christmas anyway.” Another one of them replied.

You grabbed what you needed, kissed your dad goodnight before making your way to your bedroom and shut the door behind you a little too hard. You didn’t know what’s gotten into you but you suddenly felt irritated and felt the need to be mad about everything.

You took off your skin-tight dress, only leaving your undergarments before grabbing your robe hanging behind your door. Opening the curtains, you let the moonlight enter your bedroom and you sat on your beanbag while looking out at the snow falling from outside with a drink in your hand.

You didn’t even realize you were close to dozing off when two knocks jolted you awake. Cold liquid spilled on your robe and you cursed for being so clumsy and falling asleep with a wine glass half-full in your hand.

You put down the emptied glass and walked to the door, securing your robe tightly before opening it. Steve stood in front of you and in his hand was a white paper bag. At first he looked worried, and when his eyes trailed down your white robe you couldn’t help but notice the glint in his eyes.

You cleared your throat. You remembered you were mad at him. “Did you want something?”

“I-I, um...I just wanted to see you.” He stuttered nervously as his hand reached to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck.

You raised a brow. “Did you, now?”

He looked a little hurt. “Look, what happened between Christina and I was nothing. Completely platonic. Before I left the mall, Bucky called and mentioned that Christina’s been burning holes behind your back whenever you and Bucky would talk about me. So I decided to just give her a necklace as a present, just to ease off the tension.”

“I don’t think your giving Christina a necklace would ease the tension off completely, Steve.” You scoffed. He was still staring at you with his big blue eyes full of worry. “Christina’s still gonna be breathing down my neck whenever we’re together, especially when things between us escalate.”

“Will things really escalate between us?” He asked hopefully.

You couldn’t answer. Steve looking at you with that hopeful smile of his and blue eyes pleading for you to just give in was just too much. He’s beautiful, and you know you want him.

Instead, he held up the paperbag he was holding before stretching his hand out to you. You only stared at the present, hesitating to take it. You could feel the excitement bubbling up in your stomach but you had to keep it in because you have to keep your act that you were still mad and jealous.

Man, Steve was making it hard for you.

“What is it?” You asked just above a whisper, your eyes looking back up to meet his.

“Why don’t you find it out for yourself,” he said it so slowly and suggestively that you suddenly had the urge to pull your door wider, gesturing him to come inside your room.

With a glint in his blue eyes, he walked in your dimly lit room and sat at the edge of your bed. You closed the door behind you, making sure it was locked before standing in front of Steve.

“Should I open it for you?” He asked.

You smiled and shook your head. “I want to open it.”

“It’s all yours, baby girl.”

Ignoring the flutter of butterflies in your stomach, you bit your lip as you took the paperbag from his hand and opened it, taking out the thin cloth that hid your present from sight. You put your hand inside and your heart began hammering against your chest when you felt the silk and lace against your skin.

Pulling it out, you slightly gasped at the thin clothing that you held in your hand. It was a rose gold lingerie with small bows and perfectly cut lace that covered the whole length. The silk clothing was soft against your fingertips, and you wondered how softer it would feel if you wore it.

“Steve,” you breathed out.

“Put it on for me, doll.”

He made his request sound so sensual with his deep and raspy voice that sent shivers down your spine. Everything that you felt earlier; seeing Steve putting a necklace around your sister’s neck, Christina laughing and smiling with Steve, him not paying attention to you—all gone. All you could think now is that you wanted to please this man in front of you.

Before you could take your feet to the bathroom, Steve got a hold of your wrist and you looked back at him again.

“Change in front of me.”

Steve pulling your panties down and eating you out on the kitchen counter was one thing, but getting fully undressed and putting on lingerie that he bought for you was definitely another.

Especially if something else were to happen tonight. You weren’t that naive to think that he’d just want to see you in silk and lace and go to sleep afterwards. This was Steve Rogers.

He let go of your wrist and you slowly brought your hands up to the tie, pulling at the end until it fell loose and your robe opened to reveal you in your white underwear. Without breaking eye contact with him, you slowly took your robe off, letting the cloth brush against your shoulders—for more sensual effect—before it fell to the ground. You could hear his breath hitch.

Your hands reached behind to unclasp the hook of your bra and with a snap, it came loose before falling to the ground with one shrug. You suddenly felt conscious being naked in front of him. You’ve never done anything like this before. Hell, you surprised yourself for even doing it! But something in the back of your head kept on urging you to keep going. Adrenaline? Lust? Curiosity?

You let out a breath as you worked your way down to your panties. You quickly pull them down, stepping out of them without breaking eye contact with the super soldier in front of you. He sat still, eyes hungrily roaming your body before looking back up to your nervous gaze.

“Help me put it on?” You asked.

He bit his lip as he stood up and took the clothing from the paperbag, taking time to revel in your naked body so close to him. His cock twitched just staring at you, mustering up all the courage to touch your skin. You were cold against his touch, and he let his fingers softly brush against your arms making goosebumps form on your skin. You shivered involuntarily.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed out. “Let me warm you up.”

He brought a hand behind your neck before pulling you close until both your lips were touching. The kiss was slow and sensual and it only made the wetness between your legs worse. You rested your hands against his chest, letting it roam around his taut muscles and feeling his hard-rock abs underneath the clothing. The clothing you oh so wanted to take off already. You followed your instinct, your hand going to the hem of his shirt and you attempted to take it off of him only to have him stop you from doing so.

“Not so fast, baby.” He breathed out.

He began trailing soft kisses down to your neck, remembering the spot that made you weak and he sucked at it, earning a breathy moan from you. You could feel him smile against you as he flicked his tongue on the stinging spot before continuing down to your shoulders. Sure enough, you were already warm from his kiss.

He took a step back and helped you put on the lingerie, the feeling of wearing it tickling your skin. It was the first time you wore something so obscene and barely there, the closest thing that you wore something like it was a pair of seamless panties that was also all-lace that you used when you wore that one skin-tight dress at a friend’s party. This, this was something else.

You watched as he fixed the strings and bows, giving it one last tug before taking another step back to marvel at you.

“Look at you doll,” he breathed out. “So fucking hot in those.”

You could feel heat rising up to your neck as you looked at your outfit, touching the silk fabric and feeling your hard nipples against the see-through lace.

“On the bed.” He instructed. You were quick to comply as you rushed past him and sat on your bed, pulling yourself up against the headboard and you watched as he took his shirt off, then his pants, leaving him only in his boxers that couldn’t even hide the huge bulge begging to breathe. He smirked as he caught you staring wide-eyed at his not so little friend.

“You see this?” He gestured to his hard cock. “This is what you do to me.”

You couldn’t help but moan as you crawled towards him, stopping just a few inches away from his erection. You looked up at him through your lashes.

Seeing you like that in front of him completely knocked the air out of his lungs. He brought a hand to pet your hair, fingers tucking a strand behind your ear before they trailed down to your chin, tilting your head up to look at him fully.

“Do you wanna taste daddy, baby girl?”

The words that left his mouth made you moan out loud. Daddy? Baby girl? Is he trying to kill you??

“Answer me.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.” He proceeded to take his boxers off in one pull and you swore you felt the tip of his cock hit you when it swung upwards, lightly hitting his stomach as it did so.

And fuck. He. Is. Huge.

“Do you like being called my baby girl?” He whispered as you watched him touch his shaft, his hand going up and down in slow motion.

“Yes daddy.” You answered, eyes still on his cock.

“Then why don’t you tell daddy what you want to do?”

“I wanna suck you.”

“Come again?”

“I wanna suck daddy.”

You decided to play along with him. You let your fingers touch his thigh, your pointer finger drawing small circles against his skin as you looked back up at him with an innocent look.

“Please, daddy?”

He groaned. “Fuck, baby girl. In your mouth, now.”

You grinned, taking his cock in your hand and you gasped at how hard he is. Your heart hammered against your chest as your lips neared the head, giving it kitten licks which drove him mad. You then started doing long, slow licks on the side of his cock before fully taking him in your mouth. Or, what could fit in your mouth.

He moaned as you took him in, swirling your tongue around his shaft and hollowing your cheeks so he could feel the tightness as you bobbed your head all the while pumping what you couldn’t take in your mouth.

“Fuck, that feels so good baby girl! Keep going,” he moaned out.

He gathered your hair into a ponytail and stopped you from moving, and now it was his turn to take control. He began bucking his hips into your mouth until he was basically face-fucking you.

“Oh, look at you down there.” He breathed out in between movements. “Taking daddy’s cock so well.”

You moaned in response, his cock feeling the vibration of your voice and he picked up his pace.

You could feel tears form on the corners of your eyes as you choked every once in a while, his size being too much for you to handle. Just when you thought you couldn’t take it any longer he pulled out, his cock thick in saliva that still hung on your lower lip.

“I wanna feel you inside baby girl. Is that okay?” He whispered. Before you could even answer he was already on top of you, trapping you in between his strong arms as he let his cock rest against your wet pussy.

“You’re so hot, (Y/N).” He growled as he caressed your cheek with his hand. You lean in to the touch, your lips searching his thumb and sucking it afterwards.

“And so needy.” He clicked his tongue. “So needy for daddy.”

He rubbed his cock against your pussy, the fabric of your underwear getting soaked from the spit from his cock and the wetness of your pussy that Steve was certain it would be so easy to slide it inside of you.

“I’m gonna put it inside, okay baby girl?”

All you could do was nod. Your nervousness and excitement refrained you from talking.

He pulled your panties to the side and he positioned the tip just by the entrance, giving you one last look of approval. When you gave him your signal, he pushed inside and you both gasped.

He was instantly stretching you out and he was still adjusting from the tightness of your pussy. It’s been so long since you last had sex and you almost forgot what it felt like.

“Does it hurt?” He asked. “Tell me if I can move now.”

You were still adjusting from his enormous size, your hands gripping his shoulders while he rested his head on the crook of your neck, fighting the urge to fuck you into oblivion. The tightness and wetness of you drove him mad.

“Okay, y-you c-can move now.” You stuttered. He began fucking you in a slow pace, making sure you’re comfortable and ready.

The slow, steady pace and his hot breath against your skin turned you on so much that you wanted him to go faster already. You whined and bucked your hips and it didn’t take a second for Steve to know what you wanted.

He increased his pace and you moaned out, his cock hitting all the right spots and teasing the bundle of nerves inside of you that craved more of him.

“Deeper daddy, deeper.” You moaned against his ear.

He pushed it deeper inside until his balls were already against your pussy and you gasped, feeling him so deep inside of you as he moved in a circular motion, brushing that sweet spot of yours with every move.

“I’ve been wanting to do this to you ever since that night that we talked.” He breathed out, still going in circles. “And now that I have you, I’m never letting you go.”

“I can be all yours, Steve.” You replied, your hands reaching up to cup his warm and sweaty cheeks. “Only if you want to.”

He growled. “I want to!”

He then began fucking you so fast and you squeaked, holding on to his back as his pace increased every second. You could feel your orgasm building up inside you and your toes curled, bracing for impact.

“Steve, I’m g-gonna cum...” you gasped.

“I’m sorry, who?” He snapped, his hips stopping in an instant that you almost cried.

“Daddy!” You whined. “Don’t stop, please!”

“That’s what I thought.”

He began fucking you again and you could almost feel your orgasm.

“With me, baby girl. Cum for daddy.”

And with one last push, pleasure instantly filled you just as Steve came, and you cried out as you continued shaking at just how strong your orgasm was.

He continued to fuck you slowly as you both ride down your high, and when you began to feel sensitive he pulled out, his cum dripping on your throbbing pussy. You were both panting and sweating.

Steve stared at the beautiful mess in front of him. You were still panting, gasping for air, still shaking a little with your legs still parted and his seed leaking out of your sore pussy. The view made his cock twitch a little. He crawled next to you and pulled you close to him so your back was against his sweaty front. You couldn’t even care less at how sticky you both felt at the moment. That was the most amazing sex you’ve ever had and it took the whole energy out of you. Nevertheless, it was so fucking good.

“Rest, baby girl.” He whispered against your hair before giving it one, long kiss. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

PART SEVEN IS UP!

———————————————————————

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my18thcenturysource · 4 years

Text

What do you think of the 18th century costumes from buffs the vampire slayer and angel the series?

——————

I had forgotten entirely of such episode from Angel!!

Wow. Thank you @luluthecatprincess so I had to go and watch it first. LOL. Sorry for the late response.

First, let’s remember that both series are from the late 90s and early 2000s and well, that might get whacky sometimes BUT in this case, in general it’s such a nice result! You go, Angel costume team!

BTW this is “The Prodigal”, Season 1, Episode 15, of Angel (aired on 2000), but the same outfits appear in other Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel episodes in short flashbacks. I think this is the first time they properly appear in Angel.

The flashbacks on the episode are supposed to be set in Galway, Ireland, in 1753, so I’ll be using the 1750s and late 1740s as the style references for these costumes, and I divided the costumes by character and outfit. Here we go.

THE MAID

Along with the time and place, we see the maid of Liam’s (a.k.a. Angel) home:

She does not look bad, except for the cap. That cap is hideous. A cap is clearly needed for a maid to keep her hair in place, but this one is seriously ugly. I’m not sure if it’s the artificially white material (which is always a sign of polyester or other artificial fiber fabric), or the fit. Other than the cap, the only other detail I find hard to imagine a maid would wear in a normal work day is the size of the sleeve ruffles, which are deeply not practical, and a bad idea to wear while going to well for water. We know that maids might get their mistress’ old dresses, but it is definitely not practical. BUT I think I see the visual reference used for this outfit (up to the ribbon lacing front):

“Mademoiselle Louise Jacquet”, 1748-1752, Jean-Étienne Liotard.

LIAM / ANGEL

He wears five 18th century outfits during this episode, that I have named: the yellow waistcoat outfit, the green outfit, the pink waistcoat, the funeral outfit, and the vampire outfit.

The Yellow Waistcoat Outfit

This is what we first see him wearing while he’s with the maid. I’m going to completely ignore his hair, because it is not done, but generally looks like a nice length to be done in curls at the sides of the head and a pony tail in the back with a bow or black silk bag (later we see he’s got a loose pony tail). I mean, he’s hungover, but those hairstyles were supposed to be worn FOR DAYS, so I’ll just pretend that he has not had his hair styled for quite a long while.

The shirt does not look bad, it has frills attached to the front vent like it should, and not in a horrible and inaccurate cravat, so thankyouverymuch. The waistcoat does not look bad, the colour and the embroidery are right, just as the shape and round neckline (even here is worn open). This tell us that Liam is quite a wealthy young man… or his father is. Here a waistcoat (front and back) to be seen as comparison:

Man’s Waistcoat, France, ca. 1750, LACMA

Now, the garments look rather good, but there’s something wrong and I cannot put my finger on it (other than the long shirt worn completely out, even though we know that it was long because it was used as underwear, and I get that it is used as a parallel of a modern drunk man with his shirt worn out of his trousers, so I’ll ignore that). It seems that this outfit fits wrong. His second outfit has a coat and it also looks odd, but his last outfit looks really good.

I’m not sure if it’s because David Boreanaz seems to be HUGE and all these garments seems too short and too narrow for him (but he’s like 1.85 m and that’s not freakishly tall, just tall). BUT it might just be that since all is worn in disarrange, and when we see the back of the waistcoat it looks tiny on this back:

Or maybe, this guy is just huge.

The Green Outfit

Excuse my poor screencaps, but this was the only one I got to make with the full outfit XD

The fit also seems odd. Unlike other garments on the episode, this seems to have been made for the episode: the fabric has a weird shine and seems almost like upholstery fabric, the buttons are sadly small, and the fit on the actor’s shoulders is definitely not right for the 18th century, but especially, it is not made like other coats in the episode (like the PERFECT ones Liam’s father wears). His shoulders are too straight like in modern tailoring, but the rest of the coat seems too big for him, which only makes me think of the late 90s fit in men’s tailoring.

Here for comparison from later in the episode, is Angel in “the present” (1999-2000), and look at the silhouette of his trench coat:

And now look at the green coat:

The cravat is tied in a simple way but I still don’t know why hasn’t he dressed his hair! Man, get your shit together!

Pink Waistcoat Outfit

The first photo of the submitted post is this same waistcoat from another view. In pink brocade with gold decorations, this waistcoat has an odd front curve and buttons on both sides… like, how is he even supposed to button that down?

Also, suddenly he’s got perfect square sideburns that we had never seen before, and that might be the envy of Mr Darcy himself. This is a weird outfit.

The Funeral Outfit

SPOILER (is a 20 year old spoiler a real spoiler?) he dies to become a vampire. So here, we see his funeral and then later that night, his rise from the death. For this important event in a vampires life (idk, I guess?), he wears a black or brown suit. I don’t know because it seems black and the light changes and it seems brown.

But first, let me get this out of my chest: he died AND NO ONE DECIDED TO FIX HIS HAIR FOR HIS OWN FUNERAL?! DAAAAAAAMN! Yes, I’m OBSESSED with his lack of hairstyling. I could have been SO good! But well, what is done, is done.

Now, he’s got a nice cravat with lace tips, a coat with big cuffs in a fabric that seems to be of satin stripes (oddly, it was chosen to cut the stripes horizontally), nice laces cuffs for his shirt and a general better fit than the one of the green coat.

The Vampire Outfit

Finally, we see Liam paying a visit to his father (and killing everyone in the process). Finally his hair is not a mess, but still not in a good mid 18th century style. Just a total fail this guy’s hair. Anyway, he’s wearing a dark green velvet suit with a stripped waistcoat. The coat has cuffs (and a weird piece on the back) in the same fabric as the waistcoat. I think this is the best suit in fit, but he best suit overall in the funeral one.

On this suit we see the back (seeing that weird contrast piece), and also see the volume of the skirt of the coat that gives it its name of frock coat. The buttons are metallic and simple. He wears a (too big to not look hideous) black brooch on the cravat. Just. Why.

Somebody explain to me wtf in this on his back:

THE FATHER

Oh. My. God.

I don’t know where did they rented his outfits from BUT he’s the best dressed character of the episode. Period. All his outfits are perfect: the roundness of the shoulders, the fabrics, the sober colours, the perfectly styled hair, the tricorn hat. Everything is right. Perfect.

Which makes me think, that all costumes were rented and they only made the ones David Boreanaz wore, so maybe they couldn’t find anything great that fitted him. I have to say that they worked them well (not perfectly), so they work.

Now, here the outfits worn by Liam’s father with no real comment because all are great:

The green coat at the beginning of the episode (it even looks like wool! Look at his lace cravat! AND HIS HAIR!):

The dark red suit with the pink waistcoat:

You can even see the volume of the wide skirt of the coat!

The funeral suit, all black with gold decoration:

look at his cravat! But ignore the girl’s hair, everything is wrong there:

And finally, the death outfit (spoiler! he dies!), he’s at home at night and he’s not wearing a coat, so we see him in dark brown breeches, pink (?) waistcoat, shirt with lace and no cravat. And guess what? HIS HAIR IS DONE.

Anyway, this man just escaped from a mid 18th century portrait:

“William Axtell”, ca. 1749-52, John Wollaston, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

DARLA

First of all: what kind of name is Darla, and what the hell was she thinking when decided that Angelus would be new Liam’s name? It only makes me think of evening prayer. BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT.

During this episode she wears three clearly different dressed:

Robe à l’anglaise with floral stomacher

When we first see her, she’s at the pub wanting to eat Liam up, we only see her earrings and the wide necklace with shiny embroidery:

Then we see her out on the street, when she sires Liam. we see that she’s wearing yellow? green? a robe à l’anglaise with an embroidered stomacher:

Grey gown with sash

After Liam’s funeral, she goes to meet him at the cemetery. She wears a silver/grey gown with long sleeves, pink stomacher, and a decorative pink sash. Over it she wears a cape, perfect for going out in the night rising the dead, and her accessory is a ruffle choker/necklace with a ribbon. Because of the cape, we do not see the full volume of the skirt, but I seem to see that it is like the others. Anyway, this particular style seems more suited for a later decade in the 18th century.

We don’t see this dress’ back, so I don’t know for sure if it’s a robe à la française or à l’anglaise, but I tend to think that the latter.

Gold robe à la anglaise

Finally, when Liam/Angelus kills his family, we see her in this other robe à l’anglaise with gold decoration and stomacher.

She’s clearly supposed to be easy to find with the eyes, therefore she wears light colours with some kind of shine in them. The silhouettes are pretty good, as the sleeves, decorations and laces. I like that her key accessory seems to be a wide choker/necklace.

Now, with all these good stuff, I don’t know why her hair is closer to the 1760s and 70s than to the 1750s, like we can see in this examples from my hairstyle timeline:

The 1750s did not have much volume at the top of the head,

The 1760s saw the rise of the hair and the egg shape hairstyle (and look at the choker! it’s just like Darla’s!):

The 1770s gave wide curls a place in the increasingly complicated hairstyles:

And once more, we see that LIAM HAD NO GOOD HAIRSTYLE FOR ANY OF THE THREE DECADES.

SOME OTHER RANDOM COSTUMES I LIKED FROM THE EPISODE:

The maid in the pub, that only misses a jacket and that kind of looks like Christina Hendricks… and IS HER according to IMDB:

Everyone at the funeral:

The mom in black:

The mom dead :( or she’s just taking a nap :)

And my favourite is this particular boy with crazy hair (you go, Glen Coco! Rock that baroque look):

CONCLUSION

Unlike I expected, the costumes are pretty good. Accessories were kept simple and that always help a lot. The silhouettes were almost perfect, and the materials are not horrible. Their biggest misstep was the hair, with hairstyles of other periods (and from later from when it is set! If they were from before, there is not such a problem), wigs that look pretty artificial (like the mom’s wig), or no hairstyle at all (I’m looking at you, Angel).

So, it was a nice surprise to see that the period costume of a supernatural/fantasy/noir series from the early 2000s could serve its purpose in such a good way: it set easily the time and place, and the broad attitudes of the characters dressed. Since watching the first scene, even without the text, you could tell that they were in the mid 18th century, that Liam is a drunk, that his father is strict and respectable, and that Darla is a refined lady. So, mission accomplished.

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soldierallen · 4 years

Text

Married. 13

Tagged @hiddlestonstansworld @lovely-geek @imcalledflorence @misz-adrii @escapistdreamer-wishfulthinker @someplxce @cuddlesforlashton @coffeebooksandfandomsohmy @weasley16 @ilovethewayyourheartbeats @vogueworthy-barnes @xeniarocks @thisismysecrethappyplace @racheo91 @gravedollie666 @inlovewith3 @supernaturaldean67 // if anyone wants to be untagged or tagged please leave a message ty♡ also I do not own any gifs or images of any kind.

Part 12:

Appearances; Alexandra Daddario, Chris Evans, Chase Crawford, Sebastian Stan.

Warnings: sexual themes, a bit smutty, fluff, blood? Idk if that’s a warning

Note: I’ lost the password to this account I lost my god damn mind and I gave up on my favorite story, the one that I’ve been wanting to tell this whole time the second to last chapter starts now❤️

Sebastian Stan x Reader

Christmas had passed so did new years, y/n's job was fantastic she was having the time of her life traveling across the country for interviews and really putting herself out there being a director for the paper it was amazing, oh wait you're wondering what happened to Alex and y/n?... oh right that part...

That night.

"I didn't mean to hit you in the face it was by mistake" Alex yelled, sebastian pulled y/n throughout the house to get her into the kitchen she slowly lifted herself up onto the counter whilst he looked at her nose blood gushing may I add droplets falling into the floor

"Alex what the fuck do you want?" Sebastian opened his freezer looking for something to ice her nose that was bleeding harshly, y/n's head tilted back slightly

"I wanted to talk to you, But she’s always here she’ll always take up your time that letter you wrote that wasn’t for me it was for her you lied to me... you never loved me it was all fake" she was crushed, both Sebastian and y/n rolled their eyes not believing her bullshit, but also y/n thought... what letter?

"how's this, how dare you think that it's okay to barge into someone's house uninvited and unwelcomed hit someone in the face with a door that LIVES here, oh should I also mentioned how you got her fired, broke her mentally and almost made me lose my relationship with her because of some "agreement" with money, Alex we talked about all of this and it never once came CLOSE to you apologzing to her, I never wanna see you again" he handed y/n a small bag of icey broccoli she laughed at the bag and put it on her nose extremely dizzy

"if that's what you want seb, i- I thought we meant more than that" she swallowed "I'll walk myself out", and with that she left

"That was first time I ever heard you defend me from her" her eyes got watery

“I’m sorry I never did, I’m never I never thought about your feelings or even thought about how you felt or what you was going through seeing you with Henry was enough for me to know that I wanted you she wasn’t the one who helped me all these years it’s always been you.." he kissed her head gently as she came off of the counter

"Seb, I love you" her heart stopped in her chest, and sebastian’s heart starting beating so loud I think the neighbors next door were able to hear it, he put his hands in his pocket.. He was spechless not able to configure words

"I didn't expect me to say those words with a broken nose a bloody floor and as your roommate... sebastian stan I love you and if you don’t love me that’s fine I’ll move out I’ll move to Alaska an-" he pulled her body closer to his, his hands leaving his pockets wrapping around her waist as he kissed her his other hand around her neck thumb caressing her cheek she was in awe, he pulled his lips away and her forehead touched his "I'm madly in love with you doll I want this to work let's make this work"

And after that night they went on their first date which was an absolute disaster from start to finish, starting off with y/n’s dress getting soaked from a pitcher of water spilling on her, Sebastian tripping over nothing and taking a bad tumble, to right before they got home the car breaking down it was just a mess.

It's been three months, everyone is friends again I mean y/n and Henry aren't too friendly but they talk when there in the same room together. Tonight should feel no different and it isn't but what y/n doesn't know is that sebastian's hiding something.

Pretty important might I add.

"I'm going to work extremely early tomorrow so I'll be home at like 6pm okay?" She was standing behind the couch as Sebastian was sitting he put both of his arms out behind him he brought her body closer to the back of the couch and himself they kissed upside down "I love you" her heart fluttered at his words "I love you too" he touched his sweatpants pocket and slowly stopped she went in her room closing the door and he groaned loudly into the pillow putting his hand in his pocket pulling out a velvety red box

"Just do it? What’s wrong with you" he looked at the engagement ring box he heard her bedroom door open again QUICKLY shoving it back in his pocket, "hey seb can you come to my bedroom” she yelled out from the other side of the door, he slowly walked to her door, when he pressed on the door revealing her room candles lit, she was sat on the edge of the bed dressed in a silk robe, a bra and panties he flirtatiously smirked at the sight of her "what do I owe the pleasure.." he asked pushing up the sleeves to his crewneck sweater, "I regretted your offering a few nights ago I told you I wasn't ready yet to start getting intimate like that" he nodded remembering crossing his arms over his chest clenching his jaw, "please forgive me" she untied her silk robe letting it fall to the floor seductively his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her for the first time he was mesmerized by the shape of her body it didn't matter to him what she looked like the curves of her body or her petite figure he didn't care, she was his and he loved her.

"you're forgiven" we're the only words he could let out, he wanted to know every wrinkle, every freckle, every beauty mark, on her body he wanted to be a genius of the anatomy of her body, he got closer his hands finally finding her skin chills circulated all over her body as he got right behind her kissing her neck one arm creeping to her stomach her back pressed up against his front she felt the heat between her legs light a fire

as he gently unclasped her bra taking the shoulders down sensually his lips connecting once again with the skin between her neck and shoulder loving the feeling she reached over behind her touching him through his pants he felt a little hard which turned her on even more, the hand that was on her stomach slowly inching closer and closer toward her heat, she loved this teasing she just knew she would miss work tomorrow, "tell me if I should stop" he whispered so low she barely heard what he said, his hand found her heat rubbing circles teasing her so badly her body pressed up against his she stopped him turning around ripping his shirt off his body revealing his magnificent body his chain dangling her hands gently reached his waistband of his pants pulling them down as he stepped out of them, "this should be fun" he whispered finally their lips connecting the only thing keeping them apart were the underwear between the both of them, the teasing kept going which made things more interesting when finally they had enough with the foreplay.

"So how was I I haven’t been at it in some time” she said with a smirk he traced her skin with his fingertips loving the warmth her skin held

"phenomenal" he said in the lowest voice he sounded cheesy as hell she pushed off him which made the two laugh a lot they cuddled closely to each other a moment they never wanted to forget for as long as they lived..

That morning she got up got ready for work she picked up the clothes off the floor his sweatpants inside out she picked them up to fold them when something fell out of the pocket a red velvet box her eyes widened her skin was getting really hot, he was gonna propose??? Or he is? What- she quickly put the box back in his pants and threw them on the floor

"Y/n, mr Crawford needs to speak with you." His assistant came up to her at office “can’t he just call me men are useles Lucy” the assistant laughed walking out, she got up going to his office "chase if this is about me being late-" she was going to explain herself until he stopped her, "nope I have a job proposal” proposal that word it scared her to say the least... “I'm handing it over to you first if you don't want it I'm giving it to angie. Y/n I want you to take the duchan case." Chase said She was in shock "chase-" "you know how much you mean to me and this company you're the right women to take it I offered it to you first" "what do I tell Sebastian?" "If you take the offer? Well hi honey baby sweetheart I have to leave for the next 5 months to Brazil and I won't be back anytime soon and also I can't have any contact with you or anyone else for that matter just my boss" chase said with a laugh he clicked his pencil once he ended his sentence.

"Haha very funny," she rolled her eyes "listen can you give me two days?" He nodded standing up as did she "I need your answer by morning the second day alright kid" "yes sir" they hugged and she left, her relationship was very friendly with mr Crawford he didn't treat anyone in the company the way he treats y/n I guess because they get along so well. Y/n has a chance to leave the country and figure out a case and be a reporter something she'd never thought she would do, but she would lose seb..maybe even lose the proposal if she leaves

"Hey I'm home" she yelled as she took her keys from the lock, closing the door she felt a strange sensation come upon her like it wasn't sebastian in the house but someone else, her instincts kicked in she grabbed the stick for the fire place walking around the corner it was a women cleaning which startled the women that was cleaning she threw her rag in the air she was filled with fright, "miss I'm so sorry I thought mr stan told you I was coming in today" y/n huffed with relief "it's okay not to be rude but why did he call you to come in today?"

"He said a special occasion" she told y/n, she shrugged her shoulders what was sebastian's special occasion? Is he gonna propose???

"I never got your name?" Y/n said

"Margo" she reached out her hand for y/n to shake it and she did "um I guess carry on sorry for almost beating you to death" she laughed and the women did too she went into her bedroom and laid on the bed “what am I gonna tell him do” she was in panic mode what did she do when she panicked... “CHRIS come over” she said he laughed on the other line “what is it this time” he said “an emergency for your ears only mr Evans I am warning you”

It was an hour later Margo cleaned the entire house it was spotless... why did he ask her to come in?

“He’s gonna WHAT” he said

“YEAH I saw the box”

“did you see the ring?” He whispers

“no I wanted it to be a suprise! Now tell me what to do”

“Don’t take the job offer” Chris said “are you gonna elaborate or that’s it just don’t take the job” she was anxious

“you’ve wanted him your whole life and you have him now and you’re gonna give up on him for a job? There’s more to live than a job” Chris said “you’re right I just this is so good for me I’m scared that.. I’ll lose on this opportunity and I lose out on my seb” she wanted to bang her head into the wall

“Choose Sebastian or the job”

“Sebastian”

“Than you’ve made up your mind!”

“I want him Chris i always will but will he always want me like he does right now will he change his mind in 5 months will he decide he doesn’t love me after all, I have to think about these things because he makes promises and doesn’t keep them... I just hope I’m making the right choice” she said

“You are” he pulled her in and they hugged while they sat down, their legs up bodies close their heads on top of each other’s, they heard the door open “cheating on me already” Sebastian walked in with a laugh “yes kiss me” she said with her lips puckered he kissed her sweetly “hey Chris” they hugged “I guess I’m gonna go... good luck” he said grabbing his jacket and kissing her cheek “bye text me when you get home”, and he left Sebastian nowhere to be found

“Seb....seb....” she looked in the kitchen in the bathroom in their separate rooms where?.. oh the “backyard” he looked out into the skies some beautiful buildings “I have something to tell you” he said looking at and it at her, “what” she got closer closing the door behind her.. “I got offered a job..and I’m not gonna be here for a while” her heart broke “what...” “my boss told me I have no choice I have to take this job she can’t lose money on my account, baby” he turned towards her “ it’s in another country they want me to run one of our out of country offices for the next 5 months” she laughed, “I got offered a job today that I can take or leave they want me to report a story in Brazil for 5 months and I didn’t know if I should take it because of us..” he was amazed “baby a reporting job that’s amazing I’m so proud of you” he kissed her for a brief moment putting his hands on her shoulders rubbing them “tonight was suppose to go a lot different, this wasn’t suppose to be happening now” he fiddled his pocket pulling out a letter “hi beautiful, I’m writing you this letter cause god I miss you things haven’t been the same without you I haven’t been able to see you remember when we slow danced at dance rehearsal, when you helped me pick out the flowers for the wedding, I just want you to know that I love you and when the right times come they come. Seb x” he said as he read out the letter “she found the letter when she came home after a few days away thinking it was for her, I wrote this letter for you I wrote letters every time I missed you he pulled out three letters from his jacket pocket “I confessed my love for you in all four letters because I thought maybe you’ll reciprocate it one day I hope today is that day” he got down on one knee her heart was racing she pushed her hair out of her face to wipe her tears

“We’re going to be apart for 5 months I don’t think I can wait that long to marry you y/n so for gods sake y/n y/m y/l will you marry me so help me god you stay in my life for the rest of my life” he said with small tears pouring out of his eyes she hugged him so tight she was bawling her eyes out she kissed him a million times it felt like “I knew you didn’t even care about the ring” he laughed she didn’t even put the ring on she knew he loved her a ring didn’t mean anything

“Yes a million times yes” she couldn’t believe she was saying these words to Sebastian of all people she was saying yes to getting married to him she was engaged!

“Sebastian it’s so big!” She was amazed “you deserve it my fiancé” a smirk left his lips she loved hearing that word come out of his mouth “I might just rip your clothes off now” “is it cause I said my fiancé” she nodded kissing him once more “I’ll only be able to call you once a month for the 5 months I’m going to be gone” she said he nodded “me too” they both knew this was going to be a hard task however it’s happening to both them..

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #henry cavill #sebastian stan x reader #married series #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fic #sebastian x reader #anthony mackie #chris evans #henry cavill fic #alexandra daddario

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eeveedel · 4 years

Note

idk if you’re still doing this but, 8. noble harry/peasant louis

alright you thirsty kids

“I’ve been waiting a long time.”

Every week Louis saw him, the alpha seemed to grow happier and more thrilled to see him.

As promised, Harry had started sending full meals to Louis’s home, enough for him and his parents, but with special instructions for how much he wanted Louis to eat. He had quickly learned Louis’s favorites among the rich offerings; roasted fish soaked in butter, supple turkey with stuffing, dumplings filled with chicken and whipped potatoes, chocolate cake. Louis ate his share as requested, and then every Sunday received some sort of candy gift from Harry and a rich meal prepared by the alpha’s private cooks.

His body had begun to grow faster, the differences no longer able to be hidden by his heavy clothes. His belly had a distinct round shape that made his shirt buttons tight, his thighs and bum sat round and high in his trousers, his fingers had begun to grow plump, and his cheeks were noticeably rounder, along with a bit of flesh that was now tucked under his chin. He felt a bit nervous at the changes and the way people looked at him a little longer now, but every time he saw his alpha’s bright smile, any anxiety he had faded away.

They were now only a few months away from the wedding, which was meant to take place at the beginning of summer. Every visit now seemed to be related to planning the day; one week he was choosing flowers, another week it was which napkins he wanted at the reception. But when he climbed into Harry’s carriage that particular day, he was met with a rather giddy alpha, sporting a large box of Turkish delights and a grin.

“Darling,” he said, “Today, we’re going to see the woman who will be making your wedding dress.”

“Oh,” Louis gasped, his hands gripping the box of sweets in his lap tightly, “That’s – oh. I didn’t expect it, should I have – “

“You have nothing you have to bring but yourself,” Harry said, reaching up to stroke Louis’s cheek, “It’s going to be a very fun day. I promise.”

Harry ultimately took Louis to a dress shop in the middle of the city, the shop window decorated in white flowers that looked like cake decorations and some of the most beautiful dresses Louis had ever seen. He had a few dresses at home that he only wore for special occasions and church, but they were plain and shapeless, and he had recently discovered that most of his clothes, they were too small. But as his eyes lingered on the rows of lace and silk inside the shop, he felt a thrill of excitement. Soon, he could buy whatever kind of dress he wanted.

The alpha ushered Harry inside, keeping a hand on his back as they came inside. The shop was empty, cleared for their arrival, and they were soon greeted by a petite beta woman with deep crow’s feet and a halo of grey-blonde hair.

“Lord Styles,” she greeted Harry, “Welcome. It’s lovely to see you again.”

She reached out, taking Louis’s hand in greeting, and gave him a warm smile.

“You must be the future Lady. Welcome, it’s an honor for me to make your wedding gown.”

Louis managed a thank you and then the seamstress dropped his hand, looking at both of them.

“Shall we begin?”

Wedding dress making, as it turned out, was an exhausting process. Louis was pressed with several reams of fabric in the same white color and asked to choose what he wanted; if he preferred lace or velvet, silk or satin; flowers or bows; beads or gemstones. Harry offered his insight a few times, citing things he had seen other brides wear, and then of course insist Louis be given something a little more grand.

Louis’s head was spinning a little by the end of it, and then, he was lead to a back section of the shop.

“I’m going to take your measurements, love,” she told Louis, “You’ll have to strip down to your underthings for me.”

“Um,” Louis stuttered, instinctively looking behind him to find Harry. The alpha had already sat down in a chair behind Louis, offering him a reassuring smile.

“I’m right here, darling, it’s okay,” Harry said, “Just let her do what she needs to do.”

Louis gave him a nod and then went to unbutton his shirt and his trousers. Underneath he had his plain drawers and camisole, and he blushed a little, aware of how all of his body could be seen under the thin pieces.

Once he was done he stood in front of the mirror and put his arms out as instructed. The seamstress carefully ran a measuring tape over Louis’s chest, his waist, his hips, the width and length of his legs. She kept making some notes of the numbers on a pad of paper she had nearby, and then would whip the tape back around Louis’s body, measuring out something else. She did a few measures of his waist and belly, asking him to breathe in deep for more measurement and then release for another. She hummed to herself as she took the tape measure away and made another note.

“You are a very lovely boy,” she told Louis, “And you have enough to fill out a dress beautifully. It will not be hard to make something for you.”

Louis thought he could hear his own voice manage a thank you, but he kept making eye contact with Harry in the mirror, observing the alpha’s small but evident smirk.

“Leave a few inches out in each of those measurements,” Harry said, “The wedding is still a few months away, always room for some more changes.”

Louis blushed deeply, looking down at his hands.

The seamstress finished making a few more notes in her notepad, then left the room, leaving Louis and the alpha alone. Louis swiftly started to change, covering up his underclothes with his trousers and shirt. He felt Harry watching him, and when he looked up, he saw Harry just looking at him, a serene and pleasant smile on his lips.

“You are going to look so stunning when your dress is finished,” Harry said. “I just know it.”

“Thank you,” Louis murmured. He kept trying to button his shirt button, but his sweat-slick fingers kept slipping. He heard Harry’s footsteps come towards him, and then the alpha was in front of him. He gently took hold of Louis’s button, slipping it into its proper place. His hand lingered for a long moment on the curve of Louis’s stomach, and Louis watched the alpha touch him.

“I am so excited to finally marry you,” Harry sighed. He brought his hand up, lifting Louis’s chin up to meet his eyes. “I’ve been waiting a long time.”

Louis smiled, though his face still felt hot, and probably showed, too.

“I’m excited, too,” Louis said. “So much.”

Harry smiled and then leaned forward, kissing Louis’s forehead.

“I am going to be a good alpha for you,” Harry said, his eyes sparkling, “I mean, my God, look at you. You are growing so beautifully, more beautifully than I ever could have dreamed.”

“Really?” Louis offered, his voice cautious.

“You are stunning. It’s like your body was made to be spoiled by me one day, to become plentiful and round.”

The alpha’s hands cupped Louis’s belly over his shirt as he said it, making Louis blush.

“I trust you will only become more beautiful in the next few months, I just know it. You will be a magnificent bride, the envy of everyone who sees you.”

He leaned forward, giving Louis’s cheek a generous kiss.

“And what an honor it will be for me to call myself your alpha.”

With one last kiss, Harry squeezed Louis’s sides and then returned to his chair.

“You’ll only have a few more things to settle about your dress,” Harry said, “And then I am taking you to get some ice cream before we go home for lunch.”

“But I already had sweets on the ride over,” Louis protested, which only made Harry lift a brow.

“So you’ll have another sweet. Not a bad thing at all,” he said, a smirk coming back to his lips, “After all, as I recall, someone ordered your wedding dress a little too big. You’ll have to make sure you can fill it out by your next fit.”

Louis’s face once again turned pink, and he glanced at himself in the mirror. He catalogued all his new curves and roundness, and then turned back to Harry, who was looking at him with expectant, sparkling eyes.

“Yes, alpha,” Louis said. “I will make sure of it.”

#chubby 1d #drabbles #mini fic #Anonymous #ask

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mr-and-mr-diaz · 4 years

Photo

FIRST CHAPTER OF PART 2 OF THE RELUCTANT FIANCE

So excited to get started!!

M/M Romance, Arranged Marriage - Also available on AO3

Chapter 1: A New Life

Excerpt: “Speak, you useless boy! Our future was secured! We were the most envied family in the city to have gotten Shawdun! What have you done?!”

I was awoken in the morning by the sound of two carriage drivers yelling at each other. Horses whinnied. It was far more noisy than I was used to but I would adjust soon enough. Our new house was closer to the street with no winding carriage drive or luxurious gardens to block the sounds of the city at our doorstep. We weren’t quite deep enough into town to hear the market stall owners hawk their wares--the “pitious boulevards of the hoi polloi” as Father called it--but certainly closer. I yawned, stretched, and smiled as Mary, one of our two new maids--Mother’s “Ladies of all tasks,” since they had to take care of everything now--poured tepid water into the washing stand and departed.

Slowly, I slid my feet into worn slippers and observed myself in the small mirror. My hair was still messy from a night spent wandering the market in nothing but shirtsleeves and britches. I hoped to take Billy back there today on a walk, if Margaret would allow.

I pulled a linen shirt from the worn clothes press and put it on, sliding back into yesterday’s britches. There was no one to notice or care about how I looked. Henry was now engaged to Oliver, soon to be Marquess of Metley, and myself and my parents had disengaged from polite society (that is, polite society threw my parents out on their self-important arses and me with them) and moved house to a place we could afford with what was left of the money the Shawduns paid for breaking off the engagement. It was smaller and darker, and closer to the dreaded common folk. We had only two maids now, no butlers or other staff. Outside, a small bit of cobblestone received carriages when necessary and behind the house a pitiful patch of back garden tangled with weeds when I didn’t attend to it myself, and I couldn’t often be bothered.

Dressed, I headed downstairs to breakfast. Father sat, resplendent in a fraying greatcoat and greying silk shirt. Mother sat beside him, her crushed velvet gown growing shiny at the elbows. They were already eating. I sat down as well and the maid brought me cold toast and eggs, served with some lukewarm tea.

“...what I wouldn’t do with a bit of cards right now, Felicity. I tell you, once we are restored to our former home, I shall never cease playing them.”

Mother sniffed. “And I shall wear five different silks all in one day, all with matching hats, and we shall once again be the very toast of town!”

Typical breakfast talk, as it had been for the three months since we’d moved here. I found myself quite tired of it this morning. “And exactly how do you plan to restore yourselves to society, Mother and Father? Surely no one will have me anymore now that I’m Henry’s leftovers,” I could not conceal my small grin of victory, “and you need extensive wealth or breeding to even be considered.”

Father cleared his throat. “Of course Felicity, I would buy you as many silks as you wish.”

Mother smiled at him. “And I shall never again complain when I see you seated at cards, Aloysious, dear.”

Ah, yes. This was another new feature that came with our new home. A precious few of our previous belongings, supplemented by second hand castoffs of other impoverished nobility. Carpets worn to the threads. No social calls for this house.

And not a word to me. Not since Father had received Henry’s formal letter and sworn me off as useless had either of them spoken a word to me.

“...but of course, the trick is to only gamble with what you have in front of you…”

I scoffed, pushing my cold breakfast away from me. Eat something, you look hungry. “Goodbye then, Mother; Father.”

I collected my coat and departed.

“‘To my dear friend Aloysius Mallory, I pray you are well. I also ask after the health of your wife and of course, your son, Philip. I find it difficult to write this letter to you, but find that I must.’ Whatever is Henry talking about in this letter, Philip? ...Ahem, ‘ I regret to inform you that…’ What the devil?!”

As I walked along the river towards the garment district I contemplated the last time Father spoke to me.

“This useless son of ours… Henry Shawdun has officially broken off the engagement! It says here that he has fallen in love with another! WHAT DID YOU DO, PHILIP?!”

Our new accommodations meant that I lived closer to Margaret and Billy than I had previously. No more than a fifteen minute’s walk.

“Speak, you useless boy! Our future was secured! We were the most envied family in the city to have gotten Shawdun! What have you done?!”

Soon enough, I arrived at Mrs. Blethely’s Fine Gowns and Costumery. A felt a small smile ghost over my face as I spoke aloud the words that I had said to Father then, the words I had sworn not to say, but hadn’t been able to hold back in the heat of the moment. All my resentment, all my hope that maybe they cared for me a little, the illusion vanished as I said those five words and erased myself from my parent’s purview forever.

“I found him another suitor.”

“So you did.” I startled and looked up at Mrs. Blethely’s age-worn face. Her mouth had permanent frown lines around it, making her a truly foreboding looking woman, but I knew that behind all the salt and pickles was a… well, a truly foreboding woman who smiled at you but only when you earned it. Our first impression had been quite shabby, with neither of us getting a terribly good impression of the other. Now, she regarded me evenly, but her eyes smiled just the tiniest bit. “Come in quickly, young man; you are late and Billy is all a-wonders at his shiny new Uncle Oliver and gasping to talk about it with someone who knows the man.”

So Henry had introduced them at last.

I hesitated on the step, then entered.

No sooner was I in the back room then young Billy flew into my arms. “Uncle Philip, Uncle Philip!” He spoke loudly though he was mere inches from my face. “We met a new man last night! And he’s so nice, and so very smart and he knows all about plants and he knows you!” I carried him to Margaret’s quarters as he carried on. “And Henry said he’s going to marry him, but I told him no! He can’t, because Mr. Lord Philip is marrying him, and then Mama shushed me, so I’m still so confused, are you marrying Uncle Henry?” his big blue eyes, perfect copies of his Uncle Henry, stared into mine, filled with joy, curiosity and confusion.

I cleared my throat. “I… ah, no, Billy. We were going to but then… er.” How to explain to a five year old?

“They decided that they prefer to be just friends, Billy. And your Uncle Henry and Uncle Oliver get along so well and they want to get married, so now they’re going to get married instead.” Margaret came down the spiral staircase and interrupted my bumbling. She was Henry’s older sister, and even more years my senior. She had all but raised Henry while his own parents neglected him, and took a similar approach to me, though God knew I was fully grown and had done little to deserve her kindness. Now she swooped young Billy out of my arms, depositing the lad on the floor where he continued to vibrate with unasked questions. “Apologies, Philip, I should have explained it to him properly last night, but I got distracted…” She gestured around her workshop where half-completed dresses spilled over the surfaces, sprinkled liberally with thread spools and spare buttons.

“No worries.” I gave her a tired smile. “Surely you have more important things to do than discuss three-month old news.” I gestured around the shop, which bustled with new orders. “The Harvest Ball keeping you and Blethely on your feet, I see.”

She smiled, hands on her hips as she observed her domain. “My kingdom for an assistant.”

I chuckled. “Well, there’s always me, useless though I am!”

She grinned at that. “I’ll bear it in mind, Philip--you never know when I might need a spare dress form.” She winked and sat down to work.

“Wait, but--Uncle Philip?” I turned back to Billy who looked up at me. “Does that mean that you won’t be my Uncle Philip anymore?” His large blue eyes began to fill with tears. “Does that mean that--that you won’t visit anymore??”

Ah yes, I reminded myself. The title. “I… I don’t know, Billy.” I turned helplessly back to Margaret who looked up from her sewing. “I--I don’t want to overstep, Margaret. I would happily visit as a friend, but “Uncle” belongs to Oliver now, and I don’t know if it would be proper…”

She smiled and gestured to Billy, who scampered to her side for a hug. “It’ll all be okay, Billy. Philip will continue to come visit you all the time just like before.” She put a finger under his chin and lifted it so Billy was looking into her eyes. “He still loves you, no matter what. Family comes in all shapes and sizes, even if we aren’t married to someone. Would you like to keep calling him your Uncle Philip?”

Billy nodded, chin wobbling.

Margaret glanced at me, and I nodded my ascent. If Henry wanted to say no to this child, that was very much his problem. I was not that strong.

Margaret smiled and turned back to Billy. “Then he is still your Uncle Philip.”

“Really?” Billy turned to me, all dusty cheeks and frayed cuffs and hopeful face and my heart caved in.

“Of course, Billy. I’ll be your Uncle Philip for as long as you would like me to be.” And God spare my heart when he eventually grew tired of me and realized I didn’t belong. When they both did.

Billy smiled and the sun came out. “Okay.” He wiped his eyes and nose on his shirtsleeves, before Margaret clicked her tongue and handed him a scrap of cloth from the table. “I’m… I’m really happy you aren’t leaving us, Uncle Philip. I like Uncle Oliver a lot, but…”

“We don’t compare people, Billy, it’s rude.” Margaret chided, eyes back to her sewing. “Now, wash up before Uncle Oliver and Uncle Henry arrive for lunch.”

I startled. “Ahh… that would be my cue to leave, I suppose.”

“You don’t have to.”

I rose and straightened my coat. “No, no, I think it would be best. Allow Oliver and Billy time to bond,” Billy would soon become Oliver’s adopted son, allowing Billy to secure a title and a future outside of Mrs. Blethely’s workroom, and it would hardly do for an irrelevant interloper to get in the way of that. “I will be back to visit, though, rest assured.” I shook Margaret’s hand, and gave Billy a quick hug before hastening to the door.

“Philip.”

I turned back. Margaret had risen and followed me to the door, a soft scarf in her hand and a kind smile on her face. “As you will not be marrying Henry I know we will not become brother and sister, but I should like to think that we could still be friends.” I felt a lump in my throat thicken as she quoted my own words back to me.

I looked down at my feet and swallowed. Abandoned at home I might be, and I would no doubt have to get used to a life without them soon enough, but I would bask in the glow of her and Billy’s friendship for as long as they could want me. “I… thank you, Margaret. Yes, I would be honored.”

“Then I will see you on Thursday morning at ten sharp for breakfast with Billy, myself and Mrs. Blethely. Now here’s a little something I made with scraps from Lady Aramintha Vogun’s Harvest Ball gown. It’ll keep you warm as the chill sets in.” With a warm smile, she pressed the scarf into my hands and then ushered me to the door.

As I hastened outside into the early autumn breeze, I felt eyes on me. I looked up and caught the stare of a man I had never met before. He regarded me intensely from across the street, not saying a word, hat pulled low and coat collar turned up. Coincidence it could be, but I didn’t like the feeling I got from him. Straightening my shoulders, I turned away from him and hurried down the street, praying he would not follow. When I chanced a glance over my shoulder a few blocks away, he was gone.

#mm romance #arranged marriage au #the reluctant fiance #original story #original work #not well researched #historical inaccuracies #EVERYWHERE #Philip Marjory #Henry Shawdun #a respectable man

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phantomphangphucker · 5 years

Text

Ectober Day 2 - Homecoming - We Welcome Back The Lords Of Chaos

Danny, Sam, Tucker and Valerie - lovingly known as the defect quartet - may have been held back one year but there’s no way they aren’t starting off their last year with dramatic bullshit. Because, honestly, they're tired of wearing masks and the lies. Besides, they’ve all moved to the Ghost Realm anyway, so what does it matter.

Danny lounges across the arms of a high backed chair, lazily swirling a half-filled wine glass of ectoplasm. Sighing up at Sams’ bedroom ceiling, “so we’re really doing this huh?”.

Tucker huffs from where he’s sprawled out on the floor, “might as well dude. It’s our last year to really throw Casper High through a loop”.

“And sources say, all the fuckers we should have graduated with last year will be there”.

Danny tilts his head down to look at Valerie, who’s repairing an ecto-blaster, chuckling at her, “is that your way of saying you spied on everyone?”.

Valerie just smirks making the halfa laugh, as Sam comes in the room. Everyone looks to her and takes in the deep red and orange knee-length dress made of felt leaves, dark purple under-bust corset; the arm sleeves long flowing sheer black and decorated in gold filigree. Black hair short and spiked, with leaves sticking out in places; her ever-present combat boots on, grapevines for shoelaces.

All three make a point of whistling.

Valerie kicks Tucker, “your turn to get dressed up, techno geek”.

Tucker grunts, “ladies first”. While Danny laughs, “Tuck fuck, you’re the one who’s going to enjoy this most. Parading around your royal ass for chics to fawn at”. Making Tucker groan as he rolls over and pushes to get up, “y’all are never going to let me live down that shit are you”.

“Nope”.

“Not a chance”.

“Wouldn’t think of it”.

Tucker just flips them off as he leaves the room.

Danny downs the rest of his glass and flips in the chair to be sprawled out on his stomach; chin up on the armrest and feet touching the floor. Blowing cold air at Valerie who sends him a dirty look as he speaks, “you’re not gonna take long are ya?”.

“I’m a girl”.

“But you’re well, you”.

“Asshole”, Valerie smacks him over the head with the butt of her gun, “but no, unlike you lot I’m not going all ghost royal to freaking homecoming”.

Sam rolls her eyes as she does her make up, “wait for prom, this is just basic lazy day royal garb”.

Tucker comes back in seconds later, a white intricately pleated kilt with gold trim and belt. Simple chain mail t-shirt and white robe, tied closed loosely with a silk rope. Topped off with a large bronze necklace etched with snakes and jackals, and wearing no less than fifteen gold, silver, and iron bracelets and rings; embedded with gemstones.

Danny, raising an eyebrow, “fucking speeding dressing? Is that a challenge?”.

“Dude no”, Tucker continuing to speak as he puts on a pair of sandals, “you can make your clothing appear instantly and out of thin air. Meanwhile, I simply calculated the highest rate off efficiency based on my clothing and accessories. You know, a real skill”.

Valerie snorts as she stands, tossing the ecto-gun on the bed, “I don’t know Tucker, creation and teleportation of damn ghost clothing sounds like a far superior skill. And less geeky”. Tucker makes a show of looking offended before pulling out black eyeliner and green eyeshadow; joining Sam at her vanity.

Danny flings over the chair, standing up as Valerie leaves to get dressed. Danny walks over to the vanity and squeezes his two friends' shoulders, “we are going to freak everyone out, now hand me an eye darkness stick”.

Sam snorts, handing Danny an eyeliner pencil, “drama queen”.

“King actually”.

Sam just rolls her eyes while Tucker points at her, “he’s right though. No one will be surprised by you, miss ooky spooky, but the rest of us? Just chaos”.

Danny snickers as he leans over them, pulling down at his eyelid as he lines his eyes, “poor Mr. Lancer’s going to have a never-ending stream of heart attacks this year and we’re starting it off today with a showy flashy bang. I’m surprised we even got Val to go along. The quartet’s truly complete”.

Sam smirks as she finishes off her lips with a metallic purple, gold shimmer layered over top, “I just want to see Paulina’s face. She couldn’t even afford Tucker’s outfit”.

“Isn’t she, like, a small-time model now or something?”.

“Yeah dude, for cars I think? Course she only stuck around Amity for your ghostly spandex covered ass”.

Valerie leans on the doorway after reentering, “well it is a great ass”.

Danny slaps his ass and winks exaggeratedly, “you mean it’s deadass drop-dead gorgeous”. While Sam and Tucker both turn their heads to take Valerie in, being the only one who isn’t some kind of ghost royalty. Knight was close enough to garner looking fancy as shit though. Having been knighted by all three of them.

Red titanium breastplate, waist plate, shin plates, and forearm plates; breastplate etched with black images of battling hellhounds, the rest etched with blood blossoms. Over top of a sheer black near floor-length pleated sleeveless dress, a dark cherry red silk knee-length long-sleeved pencil dress underneath that. Long curly hair pulled into a low ponytail and laying forward over her shoulder. Simple black titanium band rings on every finger and black dress shoes.

Danny makes a show of swooning as he hands her make up bag over. Which she uses to bop Danny on the nose with, as he leaves to change.

Shaking her head as she trades seats with Sam, who goes to sit on her bed and paint her nails black. Valerie only somewhat seriously asking, “so just how excessive is he going to look?”.

Sam chuckles, not even looking up, “good luck getting him to not wear a velvet cape”.

“My god what have I signed up for”.

Tucker snorts, “generalised suffering and ringing in the year of mischief”.

Danny dramatically swishes the vines covering the doorway out of the way, near shouting, “more like singing in the mighty reign of the defect quartet! Humanities rejects!”.

Valerie points towards his voice, “hey now, I still live in the Mortal Realm...mostly. I haven’t totally defected from normal human soci-”, cutting herself off as she turns around and gapes.

Danny’s standing there in a Superman pose, floor-length black crushed velvet cape with white plush lining; clasped together by two large green skulls, images of flames etched in pale green, and connected by a loosely hanging large blackened silver chain. Over top of a silk dark purple surcoat with black satin swirling embroidery, black leather double belt decorated with black spikes, and long-sleeved fine silver chainmail under it all. Black clawed titanium gauntlets and segmented knee-high boots of the same metal; both embedded with emeralds, rubies and onyx stones, at every joint and the cuffs. The whole ensemble finished off with a black leather choker, a green skull centrepiece with a large black obsidian ring hanging from its mouth.

Sam and Tucker start laughing at Valerie’s still gaping facial expression, while Danny slumps exaggeratedly, “What? Too much?”.

Tucker laughs hard, thankful his make up is already set, “dude! We’re going for street royal! Not ‘we’re going to the opera house’!”.

Danny sticks his arms out to the side slightly and looks down, “this is street royal”, plucking at the cape collar, “this cape is barely one step up from civvies”. Making Valerie finally lose it and start laughing her ass off. Wheezing, “you! You’ve been! Been here too long!”.

Tucker points at Danny’s shoes, “at least go for low top shoes and wrist-length gloves”.

Danny rolls his eyes and alters their length, before sticking in decent sized emerald earrings and giving himself black leggings, “happy?”.

Valerie shakes her head with a smile, “this school year is going to be a mess”.

Danny smirks, “perfect then. They have the audacity to hold these royal and knightly asses back a year then they deserve it. Plus”, pointing at everyone in turn, “how has no one figured shit out yet. Like this is getting sad, and it’s not like any one of us actually need the acceptance or even tolerance of the mortal world”.

Everyone sighs, “would still like it though”, before shrugging, “screw the lot of ‘em otherwise though”.

Tucker points at Danny, “really says a lot when even Mr. ‘Oh-Ancients-what-if-they-don't-accept-me?’ no longer gives a damn”.

Danny shrugs, “kind of hard to care when my folks and your folks, and maybe Val’s, are the only ones I’ll ever really be seeing again. And they’ve all accepted our crazy bullshit”.

Sam groans as she sticks her nails in Danny’s face for him to freeze-dry, “and lucky me, I get to be the odd one out in the acceptance train. But hey, it’s not like I ever actually cared. Not to mention Nana Ida is leaving the four of us everything”.

Valerie coughs, nearly messing up her dark grey lipstick, “wait, I’m included now?”.

Sam rolls her eyes, “duh. All of team Phantom is and you’ve officially joined the chaos”.

Danny smirks as he flops back down in the chair, “there’s no way out and nothing but dead ends. But rejoice! For death is only the beginning”.

Valerie squints at him as she finishes, “that's way more ominous than you think it is”. While Tucker gets up and rummages through Danny’s bag, lifting up their assorted headgear. Tossing it to each of them and smirking at Danny’s ‘simple’ three-peaked green crown covered in obsidian stones, “well at least this one doesn’t float, or burst into flames, or give off mist, or give off the horrifying wails and moans of the dead”.

“I’d like to actually be able to hear the music, Tuck”.

Danny adjusts his ‘small’ crown and admires everyone else. Sam in her silver elven like crown wrapped in ivy vines and leaves. Tucker’s golden band of coiling snakes and rubies. Valerie with a blackened silver headband with titanium black ram horns, green skull wrapped in vines with a snake winding through its eyes at the centre. Nodding curtly, “alright, y’all ready to go freak all our former and current classmates out?”. All three of them give devilish grins so Danny continues, “well then, it’ll be a pleasure doing this song and dance with you all”, nodding at Sam, “Botany Lordess NightShade”, nodding at Tucker, “Ranatheo Pharaoh T Duulaman”, nodding at Valerie, “High Dread Knight Rufescent”.

The three of them nod back, “Phantom, High Ghost King”. Before everyone bursts out into laughs as they hop into Sam’s pumpkin carriage drawn by three black horses with flaming manes. Deciding to save Danny’s skeleton procession and fanciful Litter, as their ride for prom.

They all agreed to arrive fashionably late, since being tardy was something all of them were well known for. So it seems no surprise to them that things have already gotten started by the time they get there. Danny’s the first to hop out and holds the carriage door for everyone else. A dude smoking outside going bug-eyed at them and coughing, though the quartet completely ignores him.

Tucker, snickering at Danny, “dude, you’re the highest royal of us all. The fuck you doing?”.

Danny smirks, “gotta take care of my underlings Tuck. And y’all are mortals after all”. All three of them flip him off before the defect quartet head inside sneakily; all of them seriously wondering how long it will take for anyone to notice them.

Valerie makes her way over to the food stand, which honestly seemed like a dumb idea to have in the same room as a high school dance. Munching on some cheesy snacks, there really wasn’t a Ghost Realm equivalent to this level of greasiness and synthetic cheese, when someone taps on her shoulder. Turning around to see Star with some curly-haired brunette. Star speaking with shock, “oh! Valerie?!?”. Valerie just waits and smirks into her drink as Star opens and closes her mouth before speaking, “why? How? Armour?”.

Valerie laughs, takes a sip of her drink and eats a few more cheesy snacks before responding, “yup, it’s the last year and none of you noticed just how weird we were. So we decided fuck it, let’s really be straight strange. And the armour is a status thing, Star. Kind of came with the whole getting knighted thing”.

The brunette speaking up while Star just stares, “you know, I heard there were some unusual people in this town but, uh, this is a bit above and beyond”.

Danny laughs from behind the two girls, “you really have no idea Brittney. There’s no place stranger”, making both girls jump.

But Star quickly collects herself, recognising Danny’s deep and rather unique voice before turning around and stopping. Rubbing at her eyes as Danny and Valerie laugh. Brittney nearly whispers, “how do you know my name?”.

Danny smirks and shrugs loosely, cape bunching up. While Valerie speaks, “oh don’t mind that. Danny knows everyone’s names”.

Star looks back to Valerie while pointing at Danny, “okay...What is going on here? Those are, that is a lot of precious gems”.

Danny waves her off, “these are my less decorated clothing. Probably the most dressed-down I’ve been in a solid month”, chuckling, “ah the joys of being royalty”.

Star chokes and it looks like they’ve finally started to get other people’s attention. Multiple girls are poking at Tucker’s finery, Sam looks to be arguing with some popular girls who took Paulina’s place after she graduated. Dash, Kwan and Dale slowly walking over while eyeballing Danny. “The Hell Fentit?”.

While Sam slips over, escaping the clutches of the younger A-Listers, “hey now, is that any way to talk to your future king”.

Dash scoffs, “Fenturd is no one’s king. What are you four pulling?”.

Danny laughs and pats Dash’s head, Dash goes to whack it away but goes through Danny’s intangible arm. Making Danny laugh even harder, smirking down at the stunned Dash, “I’m everyones king in death Dash. Well, if you become a ghost that is”.

Dale squeaks, “you’re a ghost!”.

Tucker tosses his arm around Danny as the two laugh, the jocks and girls changing to glaring at Tucker. Dash muttering, “what the hell”.

Tucker chuckles, “naw he ain’t flat out dead. None of us are. Ghost royals all the same though”, plucking at his gold bracelets, “comes with plenty of positives I’d say”, before flicking sand at Danny, who flicks snow back.

Sam glares and shoves her head in between the two boys, “how dare you leave me out”.

Danny points at her as she flicks leaves at them, Danny speaking with a shit-eating grin, “we’d never leaf you out”.

Star slowly looks back to Valerie, “when the heck did you all acquire powers and what’s up with the king thing?”.

Valerie chuckles as Star and Brittney join her in leaning against the food tables, Valerie replying, “like I said no one noticing was getting annoying so we’re not even bothering to hide it anymore”.

Danny sticks his head close and smiles, “if you recall, there was a point in time where the trio went from just the losers three to the weirdo trio. Quite a time that was. Ghosts popping up all of the sudden. The mad man king of ghosts stealing our town into another dimension only to be defeated and dethroned. Only for a certain someone to find out they were the rightful heir to said throne”.

Tucker joins in, “dude yeah, crazy shit. And then the school goes on weird field trips only for another certain someone to find their look-alike in an ancient museum while some crazy evil ghost awakens. And then of course, as things always happen, turns out that look-alike is the rebirth of the ancient ghost pharaoh and thus heir to the throne”.

Sam smirks, “and who could forget the time this dumb town decided to destroy all the plant life only for some crazy powerful ghost lord of plants to turn everyone into mindless zombies and fertiliser. Only for said ghosts to pick a certain someone as their queen and mother to all plants. Before, obviously, getting defeated”.

Valerie shrugs and smirks at Star, “and then what certain someone turns out to be a freakishly skilled fighter and ghost hunter, and friends with the aforementioned certain someone’s. A certain someone who only needed to share their secrets to unlock the door to knighthood”.

All four grin while everyone around just gapes at them, everyone in the room having gone silent shortly after Danny had started speaking.

Dash blinks before blurting out, “that’s bullshit”.

Danny rolls his eyes and snickers, “is that the ‘how dare you do better in life than me’ kind of ‘that’s bullshit’ or the ‘you are lying’ kind of ‘that’s bullshit’?”.

Dash glares at him and crosses his arms, “the second Fentoad. You four are weird but that’s it”.

The four exchange glances and snicker.

Star shakes her head and puts on a smile, “well whatever, you’re all here so things can actually start now”.

Valerie raises an eyebrow while Danny asks, “wait what?”.

Star nods to someone and suddenly a banner drops down reading ‘Respect, Protect And Never Forget. The Defect Quartet!’, and the music starts up in genuine, playing weird intense songs that are decidedly not normally played at any dances. Balloons and streamers start going off all over the place; most people breaking out into erratic dance, everything from the monster mash to the creep. One person appears to be doing a mash-up of the chicken dance and cotton eye joe. Anyone not dancing wildly in the whirlwind of streamers and flashing lights is leaning against the gymnasium walls watching the chaos.

Danny makes a show of looking like he’s about to faint, “they love us, they really really love us! Catch me”, before going to fall over.

All three others speaking in unison, “no”, as Danny just collapses on the floor.

Sam points at Dash who just finished doing the wiggle, “don’t you jerks hate us?”.

Dash shrugs, “Danny’s the only one I could pummel that would still stand up to me. Not to mention he never seemed to actually get injured”.

Danny blinks and tilts his head, still laying on the ground, “you actually noticed that?”, laughing, “sweet Ancients someone did actually notice something!”.

A couple of people who were just standing around come up, “plus you four are basically a staple of the school and town”.

“Your bullshit is Amity Parks hazing ritual”.

“You’re our mascots”.

Danny flings himself up and yanks the other three in for a tight hug, “guess we have to frequently visit our mortal lair now! Haha! The mortals have accepted their fate!”, before dragging them all onto the dance floor and all four of them break into weird ghost dances. The most ridiculous or over the top ones they can think of.

Danny’s bouncing around on his palms, cape dragging all over the floor and surcoat folding over his face. Sam is stomping and swaying her hands through the air like she walking through vines and pretending to have a seizure. Tucker looks to be doing a version of the robot that involves swords, bracelets jangling loudly. Valerie looks like she’s fencing while doing ballet, occasionally clanging on her breastplate for the sound effect.

The four bursting into an erratic mock fight as Freaks by Timmy Trumpet comes on. People laughing and eventually joining in. Danny notes that even Mr. Lancer, Mr. Lewis, Mrs, Testlauf and Ms. Trent seem to join in.

Danny shimmies his way over to Mr. Lancer, who’s now panting, elbowing the teacher who’s now shorter than him, “thought y’all would get back at us by making things as weird as possible huh? Try to shock us for a change?”.

Mr. Lancer waves him off, “as some would say, ringing in the new year and your last one”, standing up fully, “and yet you all still managed to startle everyone. What even is this Daniel?”.

Danny laughs exaggeratedly, “y’all only have the tip of the iceberg on our oddness. Literally in my case”, Danny swishes his cape out, snow falling out of it, as Danny goes back to the dance floor,

While Mr. Lancer is extremely confused, and then startled by Valerie coming up from behind and stomping her feet; making a show of standing ridged before bending over in laughter. Patting Mr. Lancer’s shoulder as she stands, “Mr. Lancer, you really should have expected us, especially Danny, to pull some shit. Out weirding him is honestly impossible. But hey, that’s the High King of Ghosts for you”.

Mr. Lancer coughs, “what?”, while Valerie winks and walks off. Mr. Lancer looks around, Samantha’s lifting a teacup made out of a leaf with a vine, Tucker seems to have a magically appearing red carpet of bandaging appearing in front of his feet and Mr. Lancer’s pretty sure he sees brown snakes winding around him in places, Valerie seems to be showing off a green and red board sword - where did that even come from? - to Mia, and Daniel is seemingly hopping around and changing the colour of the floor every time he lands. Mr. Lancer is officially both in awe and fear of what this year is going to be like. Watching as the Defect Quartet, which he honestly thought was a pretty insulting name for the group, all collapse in a heap on the ground; Daniel throwing his cape over the other three dramatically like a large blanket, while the music quietens down.

Star and Kwan, the previous years' homecoming queen and king, take the stage. Star grabbing the mic, “okay now that we’ve had a chance to adjust to the strange and bizarre again. It’s time for this years homecoming king and queen!”.

Star waits for the cheering to stop, though some are booing too, expected honestly. Clapping her hands, “so the votes were cast by everyone as they entered, meaning!”, Kwan holds up two envelopes that Star points at, “we don’t even have to wait!”.

People cheer and hold up cups while Star opens a pink one and Kwan opens a blue one. Meanwhile, Sam mutters about gender roles, stereotypes and colours.

Star smiling down at the paper and lifting up her head, “the homecoming queen is...Valerie Gray!”.

Valerie sticks her arms out to the side speaking as people cheer, “the fuck? I’m only here, like, half the classes?!?”.

Jesse elbows her above the metal, “but you have literally saved people's lives and not to mention basically taught everyone how to work ectoweapons”.

While Kwan leans into the mic, grinning like an idiot, “and the homecoming king is...Danny Fenton”.

Sam, Tucker and Valerie slowly look to Danny with expressions of mock horror, while people cheer. Danny blinks once, twice, three times before going stiff and pitching sideways, laughing and shouting, “you poor innocent fools!”.

Valerie sighs and grabs Danny’s arm, pushing up his cape to do so, and drags him with her towards the stage. Danny points behind him at Sam and Tucker, “chant as we rise”.

Sam and Tucker shrug and start stomping their feet, “before the armies, start the chaos. ‘Cause these boring skies will be no more”.

Dash snorts at Dale, “they are really going all-in on this act, aren’t they? Kind of makes me miss Highschool”.

“It’s only been a couple of months dude”.

While Danny bends forward to let Kwan awkwardly put the puffy homecoming king ‘crown’ over Danny’s actual crown. Valerie doing the same as Star tries to situate the tiara in between the horns. Star muttering at her, “this is absurd”. Making Valerie and Danny smirk.

Star and Kwan step to the side and bow at the crowd while Danny does silly hand waving; Valerie being more normal about it even if light is bouncing off her armour.

Star and Kwan hop down off the stage as Valerie grabs the mic and points at Danny, “the Zone were you all thinking putting him up here?”.

Multiple people shout at them about how they basically defined the town and school, were a vital part of the atmosphere and culture. And that Danny was basically the epicentre of it all.

Danny laughs and leans over the mic, looking at Valerie, “face it Val, I’m the perfect collection of blood, guts and other assorted candy store viscera”, before turning to the crowd, “Imma tell y’all a story. ‘Cause unholy guacamole, you have no clue”.

Valerie looks at him and snorts, “origin story time?”.

Danny just smirks before speaking, “you see, it was many years ago. Before you or I, but not really ‘cause I was here and so were most of you. I decided this reality wasn’t for me, space was always my shit. Hence why I get called space boy so much. Anyway, so I tried to aim for a better world. And then what happened? I accidentally opened a hole into the realm of the dead! And you know what I did? What I goddamn did? Waltzed in and screamed ‘Honey! I’m home!’”, clapping his hands before pointing them out at everyone, “and now I’m here with you fucks again, in a town known for its ghostliness. Which I am absolutely the epicentre, or whatever, for. So y’all want atmosphere, I’ll give ya atmosphere”, snapping his fingers making green mist appear in the air, “this year is going to be a dissection of weird for all to see!”, Danny leans against the podium, posture instantly becoming more serious, well sort of serious anyway, “but really, the lot of us genuinely debated whether to even stick ‘round Amity”, Danny laughs as multiple people gasp and some shout “no!” and “never leave us!”, most people just going along with the quartets dramatics at this point. Danny smirks as he continues, “this silly mortal plain can barely handle us, we are in league with the dead after all. But fuck it, this town’s dead enough for our asses and y’all clearly accept our shit”. Resulting in a bunch of cheering, even if most people are incredibly confused.

While Danny nods at Valerie to speak, letting her step up to the podium with a dramatic bow. Valerie chuckles and smiles at him before turning to the crowd, “so obviously I’m the least odd of the quartet. I’m also the only one that isn’t straight up accidental ghostly royalty”, Valerie shrugs, “up to you whether you believe any of us about our bullshit. But just keep in mind, we have been ‘away from town’ all summer. Take a good guess as to where. Anyway, let’s have a wild year and remember”, Valerie leans forward almost menacingly, metal wrist guards clanging on the podium, “this is your final chance to take us down”.

Danny throws his arm around Valerie, “and you call me ominous!”, turning to the crowd, “is our lives nothing but strange or just hard to believe? Question our behaviour but it’s never what you guess. So just let go of what you don’t know. You laugh at us and you laugh with us. But we can be anything you don’t want anyone to be”, snorting and laughing, “because we are humanities defects!”.

Valerie pushes him off the stage and grabs the mic, “he’s a drama queen, obviously”.

While multiple people whisper about how it seemed like the quartet are the ones who came up with their name, which honestly tracks.

Danny shouts from the ground, “KING!”, before springing up and adjusting the fake crown over top of his real one and smiling wide at everyone, “best boil my blood and gouge my eyes, for I’ll never learn to hold my tongue”.

Valerie shakes her head as she hops down from the stage, going with Danny for a dance, “you ominous bastard”.

Danny laughs as he takes her hand in his, “ah sweet sweet normalcy”.

While Tucker and Sam dance, snakes and vines weaving in a dance as well.

Mr. Lewis watches from the sidelines over the rim of a paper coffee cup, “you know, I thought aliens were the weirdest shit I was ever going to see”, shrugging, “but hey, at least no ones tried to kill me yet”.

While the defect quartet roamed the dance, confusing every person they talked to or stood next to or so much as looked at.

End.

77 notes · View notes

hellsbovnd · 4 years

Text

last night in the oasis.

wc: 2914 focus: leonnaux altoix

more investigation adventures! and now my brain is free to work on short little things to throw into my blog’s queue instead... and maybe crawl out of my hole and rp, but my brain is the consistency of an icee

[ PDF MIRROR ] [ PREVIOUS ]

It took a little bit of digging, but eventually Leonnaux found which pillowhouse Laraunt was talking about—and by extension, he found it’s “Matron,” Cerilia. It was tucked into an alley a few blocks away from the bar that Laraunt worked at, and the sign over the doorway was so worn and sand-blasted by years of exposure that the writing on it was almost completely illegible. An oil lamp attached to it illuminated only enough of the remaining letters for Leonnaux to be certain that this was the place: the Ruby Oasis.

The entrance led into a short, curtain-lined hall that opened into a round room lined in tapestries and beaded curtains, held just enough out of the way of the plush seats that they would not catch fire from misplaced cigars, matches, or lighters. Despite the effort put in to make it look like it was an upscale sort of place, the dingy fabric tapestries and the reek of cheap fogweed gave it away as the hole in the wall that it really was. It was still early in the evening, but there were already a few men tucked into the booths, accompanied by two women each dressed in faded silks but with their makeup done so beautifully that the garments could easily be overlooked. Leonnaux imagined that the winning smiles, cigars, and alcohol helped with that.

He had left the disguise he’d been using to handle Laraunt at home tonight. There were no feathers in his hair, no special effort put into altering his appearance. Leonnaux imagined that while he was proud of the effort that it took to become the woman “Reine,” such efforts might not be appreciated at the Ruby Oasis, and that if he approached them in bad faith that he would probably be putting his only solid lead in jeopardy. So tonight Leonnaux entered the pillowhouse as himself: dressed down in a simple red shirt, slacks, and suspenders. And his glasses. Gods, he missed being able to see.

“I haven’t seen you around here before, mister,” a Miqo’te woman posted by the entrance commented once he’d had a moment to take in his surroundings. When Leonnaux glanced over to her, she was only just beginning to straighten in her seat, setting a book aside in favor of some sort of pocket-sized ledger—though she was dressed in the same dingy silks that the other women in the room seemed to be. Despite her kind smile, her dark eyes were tired. Her hair was styled to frame her face in such a way that the shadow of her bangs over her face covered up the dark circles under her eyes where the makeup failed to do so. “Welcome to the Ruby Oasis. How can I help you this evening?”

“I’m looking for someone. Is Cerilia about?”

She arched a brow. “Cerilia…? She’s around, but—are you sure? She’s terribly busy, and doesn’t take kindly to being interrupted. If you’re here to enjoy our services, then maybe Lhaqi would be a suitable substitu—“

Leonnaux cut her off with a raised hand and a warm smile. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m asking for Cerilia because she might be able to help me find that someone.” A pause. “If you think she might be a while, though, I can sit and wait. I don’t suppose there would be anyone else about who could tell me a bit about, ah, what was it… Adeline?”

Her smile faded ever so slightly at the name. “Adeline… I can tell you a bit, I guess, but why? She doesn’t work here, if that’s your angle.” An edge crept into her voice, then, and she stood, ears flattened.

Leonnaux waved his hands in an effort to soothe, his smile lingering for only long enough for a nervous laugh to bubble up from his lips. “No, no, no. I’m not interested in anything like that; I’m happily involved. I don’t suppose you have a back room that we could pick up this conversation in? I’ve reason to believe that it might not be something that needs to be discussed in the front-of-house.”

The Miqo’te’s ears twitched upwards a bit, but her bright green eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “… Fine. You’re here for Cerilia, so we can talk in her office. She’s taking care of some scumbags right now, but she should be back soon.”

“Oh… Isn’t there, I don’t know, a private booth?”

“You just said you weren’t interested in that.”

“I’m not interested in the—“ Leonnaux cleared his throat— “Risque elements of the Oasis, here. I’m more than happy to enjoy your other services, though—something to smoke, something to drink…?”

A growl rose in the Miqo’te’s throat, then, her shoulders falling. She stuffed the ledger between her breasts and she rested a hand on Leonnaux’s shoulder, guiding him towards a staircase in the back of the establishment—hidden behind a dingy tapestry and some beads. “Are you here to talk or are you here to fuck around?”

“Ah—well, business. Scratch the smokes and drinks, I guess. Though I would have been happy to pay.”

The Miqo’te snorted a laugh, then, gently pushing Leonnaux up the narrow stairway.

Cerilia’s office was the first room on the top floor of the establishment—which given the rafters might have been a renovated attic. It was not, of course, the only room on the top floor, and it didn’t take more than a passing glance down the hallway to piece together what kinds of rooms the other three doorways—numbered accordingly—led to.

The office was decorated similarly to the main floor of the establishment with the tapestries and the candles and the plush furniture. A desk was the centerpiece of the room, though, with all sorts of papers strewn about; it honestly kind of reminded Leonnaux of his own desk in his bedroom.

The Miqo’te guided him to a plush couch wordlessly before plopping down on a velvet cushion herself. “So… You were looking for Adeline? She hasn’t shown up around here in a good moon. I can’t say if Cerilia will actually have anything for you.”

“A moon… Well, given the circumstances I’m not expecting anything terribly direct. Her brother filled me in on some of the specifics—“

“Laraunt doesn’t know where she is either?”

“Laraunt is the one who hired me to find her.”

“Warden, what a fucking mess.” She sighed. “Here I thought he’d finally convinced her to take it easy and get that shite outta her system. So he doesn’t know, either. If he doesn’t know, then I guess I should make an amendment—she’s been missing for about a moon.”

Leonnaux produced a thin, leather notebook from his back pocket. “Could I trouble you for a quill?” The Miqo’te wordlessly pulled a quill from off Cerilia’s desk and handed it to Leonnaux. He hummed thoughtfully as he set to scribbling. “A moon’s a long time to be missing around here, isn’t it?”

“They say that if you don’t turn up in a week, the buzzards’re probably eating your liver. I… Hope they’re not eating Adeline’s liver, though. She didn’t work here, but she’s always been good to us, made sure that no one harassed us during our off-hours… Or, she… She did.”

“Did?”

“This place is frequented by all sorts of scumbags—mobsters and crooked Blades looking for a good time or to look more sophisticated than they really are. She’d keep them off the backs of those of us too scared to stand up to those sorts of folks—saved Cerilia the trouble of hiring extra security. But eventually she stopped dropping in just to hang out and started coming as a customer, usually with this really rough-looking Midlander. All scarred up. Er, more scarred up than she and her brother are, that is.”

So they both have the scarified tattoos. He supposed it really was a clan thing and not just a matter of personal taste on Laraunt’s part, then. They certainly made his job easier, though; on the off-chance she wasn’t keeping them covered, it would be easier to dig for sightings.

“What did they do here?” Leonnaux paused in his scribbling to meet the Miqo’te’s gaze.

The Miqo’te scoffed, then. “Talk, mostly. Smoke some joints. Drink. Whenever she showed up with him, it seemed like she was in her own little world.”

Leonnaux clicked his tongue, then. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sound of the door slamming open, the knob colliding with the wall when there was nothing in the way to stop it. A tall Elezen woman with flame-red hair stood cross-armed in the doorway, at once elegant and more than a little threatening. She was lean, but Leonnaux definitely got the impression that she could snap his spine if she wanted to. Her lips were painted a red so bright that they almost matched her hair, set in a deep frown. “Vahya! It’s awfully early for the other rooms to already be occupied.”

The Miqo’te’s ears perked up, then. “He’s not a client. I was just keeping him company until you came back, Madame Cerilia.”

“Hn?” The Elezen’s gaze settled on Leonnaux then as she looked him over. “… Whatever you’re selling we don’t fucking want it here. Scram.”

“I’m not selling anything,” Leonnaux corrected, raising his hands a bit. “I was wondering if you would be willing to help me find someone.”

“Adeline,” Vahya added.

At the sound of Adeline’s name, Cerilia’s shoulders fell a bit. She made her way behind her desk and took a seat, crossing her arms and kicking her feet up onto the surface, heedless of any disturbed papers. “I don’t think I can tell you anything you don’t already know if you’ve been chatting up Vahya here. She hasn’t been around for like, a moon. Wherever she is… She’s long gone. Assuming she’s even still alive.”

“Aye, I got that already. But Laraunt gave me a lead that I think you specifically would be able to help me with.” With that, Leonnaux leaned forward and produced the phial of Vesper from his back pocket, gingerly placing it on Cerilia’s desk.

Cerilia’s eyes widened a bit at the sight of the phial, and she picked it up with an equal amount of care that Leonnaux had used to place it. She lifted it up and held it to the lanternlight as if to check for imperfections, the same way one might hold a diamond to the light. “… Vahya, leave us.”

“Madame.” The Miqo’te stood abruptly, then, tail swishing as she made her way out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

Cerilia didn’t speak again until Vahya’s footsteps had faded on their way down the staircase. She started with a sigh. “Where did Laraunt get this.”

“He didn’t say.”

“Idiot bastard. Okay… Next question, do you know what this is.” It was definitely a question, but Cerilia’s voice remained flat.

“Laraunt told me it was a drug called Vesper. I’m… Well, I’m not new in town, but I don’t frequent these parts of the city.”

“I can tell. I could think of at least thirteen ways to kill a man with his own suspenders; no one who’s from around these parts would handle this shit wearing them.”

Leonnaux arched a brow, then, returning his gaze to the notes he’d taken already.

Cerilia paused a beat. “… It was a joke, lighten up. Fury. But yes. This is Vesper, alright; real pure stuff too by the looks of it. I didn’t want to say anything at the time, but… Before she disappeared, Adeline was getting real fucked up on it. I think the man she kept showing up with was her dealer. But that doesn’t really answer the question. Do you know what this is?”

“Uh…”

“Of course you don’t. Okay… Well, the first thing you need to know is that you need to get rid of it. That shit doesn’t fuck around, prettyboy; if you thought somnus was bad, then Vesper is worse. Eh… They don’t do exactly the same thing, but it’s chewing folks up and spitting them out at about the same rate as somnus does. Which is saying something around here.”

“So it’s addictive, and—from what I gather Adeline was pretty out of it…”

“Yeah, every time we saw her just before she disappeared, she was on Vesper.” Cerilia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“And you said the guy she was with was her dealer… So, do you know much about him?”

The woman paused for a long moment, letting her eyes slip closed and sighing. “… You mean well, I can tell, but it’s really better if I don’t say. Just run back and tell Laraunt that the trail’s gone cold.”

Leonnaux briefly gawked at that. “Weren’t you friends with Adeline?”

“Yeah. I was. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s really better for both you and Laraunt if you just let this thing go.”

“Don’t you want her to be found?”

“She’s probably dead.”

“But there’s a chance she’s not.”

“Slim.”

“But there.”

Cerilia glared at Leonnaux and reoriented herself so that her feet were flat on the floor. She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the desk, shaking her head. “… If I tell you more you gotta promise that this won’t come back to haunt the girls here. We see enough trouble here as it is.”

“I promise,” Leonnaux mumbled in reply, nodding.

But Cerilia still seemed like she needed a moment to think about it. She letthe silence grow between them for a minute or two before she spoke again: “The guy was a Brass Blade, which is bad enough as it is. But more than that, he was a member of the Antares, the group that currently controls the entire supply of Vesper in the city. Since they control the product, they get to pick and choose what markets they distribute it in… I think it woulda been a hit as a Monetarist’s party drug, but—the Antares don’t have the same kind of pull that, say, the Alacran do. So they decided to target us instead.”

“Us?”

“The dregs of the city. Those of us with nowhere to run and no one to miss us if we disappeared tomorrow. Keep an eye out when you’re walking these streets and you’ll see them. Lots of Duskwights that left the Shroud for Ul’dah. Even more tribeless Seekers who came to the city after the figured out that they weren’t going to make it on their own out there.”

Leonnaux’s expression darkened, then. “… So they’re targeting the vulnerable for some quick cash.”

“More or less. And once you’re hooked, well—I’ve never heard of someone cleaning up after they got hooked on Vesper, let’s say. It’s nastier than somnus not just because of how quickly it took root but because it’s a lot more dangerous to use safely. There’s no way that something this strong is natural. Not that other drugs aren’t processed a little, but this? This is so far removed from whatever went into it that there’s nothing left. I don’t think even the most talented alchemists in the city could tell you what all went into it. Anyway, so once you’re hooked, you’re basically indebted to the Antares for the rest of your short life. Which is not a position you want to be in if you can help it.”

Leonnaux tapped the quill against the page, leaving several little ink blots behind. “Duly noted. This… Antares. Do you think you could…?”

“Tell you more? Sorry, but I’m not the most knowledgeable woman on the subject, and I’m not interested in endangering my sisters here.”

He sighed, then, nodding. “I understa—“

“But,” Cerilia cut in, continuing, “If you really are determined to find Adeline, then here. This might help.” She fished a ring out of a drawer and slid it over to him. “The man who was with her left this behind on the table one day.”

The ring was made of a black sort of metal, fairly plain and unsuspecting except for the carnelian set into it where a gemstone might normally rest. A signet ring, Leonnaux realized—one bearing a scorpion as its sigil.

“This is an Alacran ring.”

“No shit? I thought it was some sort of country club ring.”

Leonnaux looked over the ring for a moment, turning it over in his hands for a moment before slipping it into his pocket. He returned the quill to Cerilia’s desk and pushed himself to his feet. “Point taken. I guess could lead me to the man who’d be most likely to know where Adeline is. Thank you, Cerilia.”

“Don’t thank me.” She waved a hand almost dismissively. “I want to see Adeline safe and sound, I just don’t think that that’s what you’re gonna find if you keep digging into it. You’ll get snapped like a toothpick. Laraunt could maybe handle himself, though. If he’s paying you, I’d recommend you just give him the ring, cut, and run before you attract any attention.”

“I’m not really the sort of man who gives up on a job halfway through.”

“Then…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that no one knows your part of this.”

“Thank you. Fury protect, prettyboy—and good luck.”

#crystal data center #ffxiv rp #balmung rp #crystal rp #ffxiv balmung #ffxiv crystal #( c: leonnaux; )#( writing; )#hellsbovnd #[ tfw the plot is thicker than ur brain ]

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salemwolfgang · 5 years

Text

Silk Ties and Brown Eyes

PT 2

Summary: Clara gets ready for the party Jen invited her too. There she gets a chance to talk to Negan for the first time but in a way she never wanted. [Office AU]

Paring: Clara (OC) x Office!Negan

Warnings: Eventual dom/sub dynamic, cursing, bdsm sexual influence, oral sex (female receiving)

A/N: {not proof read} If anymore warnings are needed PLEASE tell me.

I sat in my room feeling as if I might cry. Throughout the week my anxiety for the party only got worse. Today being the day for said party only made it ten times as bad. But I was still going because I owed it to Jen.

And here I was currently waiting for Jen to come and help me pick out my outfit. She insisted that she do it as part of the deal. I mainly said yes to help lift some stress off my shoulders. Though I greatly appreciated the offer.

I heard a knock at the door and walked over to open it. Jen rushes in with some bags and gave me a quick hug. “Hey Clara! I have few color schemes in mind for the party; I just need to see your closet.”

“Okay, you know where it is.” I went to go sit but she grabbed my hand and pulled me to my room.

“You didn’t think I’d let you just sit there. Did ya?” I nodded. “No silly, you need wear the dress!”

She then dragged me into my room. We tried on all of my dresses, shoes, and makeup.

After a while of dress after dress, shoe after shoe and hair style after style. She finally picked out an outfit she deemed worthy enough. While waiting for me to dress she put on her own outfit.

Mine was dark maroon dress that cut of the shoulder and had rose patterned lace on the top part and underneath the dress. I had gotten it a long time ago when I was shopping with Jen and she bought it without telling me. I only wore it once but never got rid of it because it was just so pretty.

She also picked a pair of black velvet heels and a matching black, also velvet, choker that she had brought. My hair was taken out of my bun and brushed causing the curls to turn into waves. She added some hair products to fix the frizz. After finishing my makeup she stepped back and look at me.

“Perfect. You’ll do just fine at the party, don’t you worry.”

Though I felt confident at the moment when we arrived at the event my need to stay with Jen finally made itself known. I stayed along side her for the whole night, practically stuck to her arm. She seemed to have no problem with it so I remained there for the rest of the night. She talked with person after person. Having yet to meet the one who invited her.

Everything was going fine. We had grabbed some drinks and I was even starting to put a bit of distance between us only a few feet though. But then she she started talking to a man from another department, Jacob or Jace whichever. They had been talking for quite some time and I just started to tune them out. Finding a sudden interest in the outside garden area.

“Oh really? I must see this oh so expensive room you have!” She turned back to me and gave me a sly smile.

“Clara, I’m gonna go with Jason to look at his hotel. You’ll be fine on your own, won’t you?” I was given no time to answer because Jason turned to me.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s not a baby.” He then pulled her off through the crowd of people.

As soon as she left me line of sight I felt as if I was going to have an anxiety attack. So to help soothe myself I began to walk around in the hallways that had little to no people in them. Soon I found a long hallway that had windows showing the outside gardens. At the end of the hallway was a door leading to them and I quickly walked towards it.

Opening the door I took in a deep breath. My anxieties washing away. I looked over at the windows showing the party and felt a pang if jealousy from the people who could actually enjoy themselves. I walked to a bench underneath a weeping willow and checked my phone for the time.

“Oh god its only nine.” I had only been here for an hour and a half. How had it only been only that long?

Was my anxiety that bad? My mind wondered off to how I would leave. How am I going to get home? Jen was my ride and she’s definitely staying with that guy from before. I also can’t seem to remember where she parked her car.

Here I was sitting on a bench alone, confused, and emotional. The only thing calming me slightly was my glass of wine. Even that wasn’t doing a good job.

I heard the sound of the door opening and then slamming shut followed by heavy footsteps. The person was spewing out cuss words and grumbling about some meeting. I got up and turned to walk away when suddenly I bumped into a chest. The drink in my hand spilled down my dress and onto his white button up.

A loud groan was heard followed by him yelling. “Jesus fucking Christ. What in the actual hell! What is this shit wine?”

This must’ve been the man who came out earlier. He aggressively wiped at his shirt while I stood there in fear. Realization then hit me as I looked up at him, squinting to see him in the dark, this wasn’t just some regular business man.

This was Negan. My boss who I spilt red wine over. I spilt wine on my boss and he was now going to now going to be fired from my job.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry! I’ll... I’ll buy you a new shirt!” I was freaking out.

What could I do?! I had to fix this before it was too late but how?! I couldn’t do anything!

“Don’t be mad?! This shit was almost double your paycheck. I highly doubt someone like you would be able to buy this. God! This shit really sucks ass.” He kept trying to wipe the shirt but to no avail.

He looked up at me but I could barely see him my vision blurred. Tears fell from my eyes and I began to cry. God why did I have to fuck this up?! I should’ve never come here. A small sob left my lips at the thought of actually being fired. I’d loose everything.

He stared at me looking at my state caused him to raise a brow in confusion. “Why the hell are you crying? I didn’t ruin your one hundred dollar shirt.”

His aggressiveness only seemed to make it worse and I cried harder. I backed up a few feet then turned away from him. I didn’t want to face the problem, I couldn’t. I just wanted to go home and watch a stupid movie and fall asleep. If I got fired I could deal with it later.

He grabbed my arm and turned me back. “You need to stop crying, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Please don’t fire me; it was an accident, really.” A look of shock crossed his features for a second before it was replaced with an understanding one.

“Hey it’s okay, it was kinda my fault too. I’m not gonna fire you. I over reacted I’ve just had a stressful day and this party only seemed to make it worse.” He explained. “Don’t cry. It’s all gonna be fine.”

I sniffed and wiped at my tears. Smudging my makeup in the process but it didn’t matter. I just wanted to go lay down and sleep. I felt so exhausted.

I looked at him and hesitantly asked, “Can please go now?”

“Where? I’ll give you a ride as an apology for earlier.”

I was confused by his offer. If anyone should be apologizing for earlier it should be me. Shouldn’t it? Though I wasn’t about to take down an offer of a ride home. It would be a lot better than walking home.

“I’m just going home. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“My place is only a few blocks from here. I can give you something to change into and then I’ll take you home. I don’t want you sitting in a wine soaked dress. Plus I don’t either.” He explained before continuing. “That is if you’re okay with that?”

I just nodded wanting to get home as soon as possible.

“Okay! Just follow me to my car and we can leave right away.” We walked back into the building and through the hallways I walked in before.

After getting through the crowd of people we walked out the entrance and took a left. My feet began to ache in protest from all the walking but I didn’t complain. His car was a sleek black one, I had no idea which model because I knew nothing about cars. I assumed it was expensive by the way it looked.

He opened the passenger door for me and I slid into the leather seat. It was cool against my heated skin and I welcomed it. He moved around the front and got in on the driver side quickly starting up the car. He took off to his house and in only a few minutes we arrived at a luxurious apartment building. He got out beckoning me to follow with his hand.

A man came out of the lobbying took Negan’s keys and took the car somewhere down the street. I wanted to ask where to but said nothing, thinking it to be useless. We walked to the left side of the lobby, which was extremely big, where an elevator was, three actually, and got into one.

I noted how he pressed the very top button leading to the 12 floor.

“We can grab you some clothes and take a quick shower. I’ll take you home after.” Negan stated.

I simply nodded not really wanting to talk to him. I was too afraid to; even after spilling wine and crying. It was too embarrassing if I was honest.

When we got to the top he took an immediate right and opened the first door. It opened up to a very beautiful large living room. Wide windows showed the city scape and the moon light and building lights illuminated the room beautifully. The place had a certain aesthetic to it, very relaxing.

“You can take one first while I find some clothes. I’ll set them just outside the bathroom door and you can grab them when your done.” He guided me to said bathroom which was more than I expected.

The bathroom was just as grand as the rest but smaller that what I expected surprisingly. Though it was small, it was still much bigger than mine.

He turned the shower on for me and then gave me a towel before leaving the room. I shut and locked the door just before undressing myself. The hot water washed away the sticky wine that was in my chest and the remaining make up I wore.

This was so relaxing. Probably one of the best showers I’ve ever had.

I washed my hair and body with the soaps resting on the baths edge. After I turned off the shower and grabbed the towel he gave me and wrapped it around my body.

I went over to the door and opened it slightly to grab the clothes he left me. It was a black short sleeved shirt and a pair of sweats. The sweats hung loosely and the shirt was large on me. The fabric of the clothes was soft and fuzzy making me feel sleepy.

Along with the heat of the shower I felt warm and it only added to the sleep that I felt. I grabbed my dirty clothes and walked out of the bathroom to the living room. Negan sat on the couch scrolling through his phone.

“I’m... I’m finished now.”

“Okay, I’ll take mine and then we can go.” He got up and headed for the bathroom.

While I waited I laid on the couch too tired to stand. My head rested on the arm of the couch and soon I felt my eyes slowly flutter shut. Just a small nap; I told myself. I’ll wake when he gets out..... but I didn’t.

#negan #twd negan #negan x reader #negan x you #negan x oc #twd x reader #twd #twd x you #twd x oc #x oc #x reader #x you

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lexiecarver · 5 years

Text

Bloodlust Pt.1- Vampire!Crowley

Pairing: Crowley x Reader :)

Word Count: 3,819

A/N: Sorry this part is so long. My muse just kept going. I did this for a ton of challenges. This was written for @spnfanficpond’s writing challenge with the prompt, “Not everybody is out to kill you.” “Says the guy who kidnapped me!” This was also written for Miami’s Gods and Monsters challenge, @moonlitskinwalker. Happy b-day hun, hope you like the story. The prompt was Vampire Crowley and “Here I was thinking you were just a pretty face.” This was also written for @supernaturalpromptchallenge with the prompt, curse. This was also written for @whispersandwhiskerburn’s Angels' 750 Follower Celebration Challenge with the prompt, “I’m all about the service darlin’.”- Sons of Anarchy. I bolded the prompts used. Angst and fluff with smut in part 2. Enjoy.:) Also on AO3 Part 2

Crowley closed his eyes against the screams. His previous victims haunted his mind. Their faces, their screams, their pleas for mercy. It was too much. Some days it’s harder than others. He really didn’t want to be a monster anymore but the bloodlust was so strong. He was craving blood every second of the day. His hands shook as he grabbed his coffee mug. He was weak without the blood but he refused to be a monster. One week sober from blood, he should get a medal. He could get by with just a taste here and there but the memories never left him. It would be so easy to just drain any of the women in the club, sink his teeth in and close his eyes as the memories, the pain, the knowledge of the evil he is all go away with the high. In those moments, nothing mattered as pleasure and power just coursed through his body. But he was tired of that life. Tired of hiding behind the blood. He wanted to be better, to show his mother that he didn’t deserve this curse. That he could be a man worthy of love for a woman. The only question was whether he fully believed it himself. He had spent hundreds of years of solitude never thinking he had anything to offer except death.

Your friends nearly pulled you through the doors of “Hell”. You’d never been to a strip club before and with a name like Hell you understandably felt a little hesitant. Not to mention that you were wearing a gorgeous black lace and silk dress. A bit too fashionable for a strip club. But you preferred to look your best no matter what. Clubwear wasn’t your cup of tea. Your friends figured since you were all single, you’d have some fun with hot guys as you watched them take their clothes off. You were more of a relationship kinda gal so it was awkward for you to objectify men like that. But you didn’t feel like having a philosophical discussion about men and relationship with your friends. What you wouldn’t do for friendship. All eyes were on you naturally. You stuck out like a sore thumb, your innocence obvious due to the blush on your face. You looked down at the floor as your friends picked a seat close to the stage. You ignored everyone’s eyes. Had you looked up, you would have seen a club full of hungry black eyes staring at you, warning you of the kinds of employees here. You groaned internally at being this close to the stage but put on a smile on for your friends.

The second that you entered the club Crowley’s eyes glowing red, the vampire curse flowing through him. Crowley was the first vampire ever in existence, turned by a curse, hence the red eyes. His employees, all whom he sired, had black eyes. Crowley sniffed the air and smelled you even from all the way over there. You smelled like freesia and beach. It was such a comforting, beautiful smell. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He knew right then and there that you were meant for him. He had heard that vampire had mates but he was sure after all the things he’d done, he would never get one. Screams of his victims echoed in his head, the blood pumping through him. He could feel the hunger growing.

“Drink her like you did all of us. Let her make you feel better. It’s been a week but you can’t stay away. Feed on her. Kill her.”

The voices were merciless today. He growled loudly as he fought to gain control over himself. He hoped that you would be the one to save him from this hell.

His bestie Dean knocked on his office door. Crowley ushered him in. Dean looked at his master. He looked wrecked and tired and his eyes were still glowing red.

“Are you okay, boss? I heard you growl from backstage and wanted to check.”

“Such a good friend Dean. I- I’m having a bad day.”

Dean knew exactly what Crowley meant. He offered his arm to him but Crowley waved him off. Smiling back at him fondly. Crowley grabbed his hand.

“I’ll be fine, Dean. I’m several hundred years old. One bad day is not going to get me down. I just think I found my mate in this club. She brought on the bloodlust. I’ll be fine, trust me.”

Dean looked unsure but nodded and left the boss to his thoughts.

The second Dean left, Crowley’s attention turned to you. His eyes looked you up and down groaning when he saw how the dress hugged all your curves deliciously. His tongue darted out as he licked his lips. He inched out of his office not wanting to be too obvious. He moved off to the side of the stage across from you with two tables between you. A waitress immediately came over to him, curtseying. He ordered Craig and within a minute the waitress gave him his drink. His eyes never left yours. He took in your blush, your discomfort at being here, the warm smile that lit your face and your sparkling eyes. He closed his eyes and replaced the haunting memories with those of you smiling. He imagined it was because of him. Slowly he opened his eyes looking at the stage.

“Welcome to Hell, ladies. My name is Brady, I do hope you stay awhile. We have the finest examples of men you have ever seen but careful, they do bite though not hard. For your viewing pleasure, I’d like to introduce you to the famous Winchester brothers, Dean and Sam. Enjoy.”

Your mouth hung open when you saw them come out. They were beyond gorgeous and their eyes were black, black as sin itself. That had to be an effect of the lights right? Dean was eye fucking you as he rode up and down the pole. He tore off his shirt and you sighed. Sam did the same thing and you gripped the chair. Both brothers had six packs and deliciously prominent muscles. Imagine the power in their arms. The power their thrusts would deliver. Fuck. OK, so you started to see the appeal of strip clubs. Their smiles got hungrier as they stared at you and your friends. Dean winked at you and Sam gave you such an intense look, you thought he’d throw you against the wall and fuck you right then and there. You were like a deer in the headlights. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away. You gulped loudly still clutching the table in front of you. It was all too much. Weren’t they just supposed to dance? And not eye fuck you? Your friends encouraged them and started screaming and asking them to come over. You had a bad feeling with the looks you were getting.

Crowley was not happy with the way his boys were looking at you. He saw Dean smell the air. He was smelling you. You were Crowley’s, not Dean’s. He should have told Dean you were his when he showed up in his office but Crowley never thought he’d like you, too. Dean was dangerous, he had no self-control even in all the years Crowley had tried to teach him it. Dean was all impulse. He might very well kill you trying to turn you and Sam was no better. He could smell your fear. You were a smart girl to be afraid. He also smelled your arousal, which he was none too happy about. He would have to protect you from them and this world. But you were normal, human. You knew nothing about monsters. You blushed coming in here. He had to tread carefully with you. He wasn’t losing his only chance at a normal life, at love because he went too fast. He would prove his mother wrong with how much he could love you and maybe she would turn him back and he could love you properly and if not, then he would cherish eternity with you. A part of him knew that everything he touched, everything he did, turned into something horrible and it would be better to erase your memory and send you off … but he couldn’t do that. He needed you even if it damned you both.

The second Dean and Sam were finished with their number they leapt off the stage to your table. Dean’s eyes bored down on you with Sam at his side smirking.

“Look at the scared little mouse. Don’t worry honey I won’t harm you. Come in the back and I’ll give you a private dance. I’m all about the service, darlin’.”

His warm breath ghosted on your chest as he lowered his face to yours, his arms on the back of the chair. Crowley came up to you both flashing red eyes and instantly Dean backed off choosing your friend instead.

“That woman is my mate!”

Dean and Sam’s eyes went wide. Dean looked down and gulped. Sam stared at you.

“Forgive me sir. I didn’t know,” Dean said telepathically.

“Now you do,” Crowley growled.

Dean and Sam bowed their heads respectfully to Crowley. Your friends were all too happy to go in the back with Sam and Dean. Everyone loved the Winchesters except you. There was something off about them, about this whole place. Your friends were beyond excited, willingly accompanying the boys through the velvet ropes. You tried to tell them you were concerned but they were hearing none of it. Dean was disappointed he wouldn’t get to taste you but he knew better than to get in bad with the boss. Mates were rare, He was happy his boss finally found his even if he really wished you could be his. Dean walked off holding your bestie’s hand.

“Don’t you dare kill them, Dean. Drink them a little, tease them, sure, but don’t kill them like last night. Make sure you bring them home none the wiser. I’m serious, Dean!”

Dean was planning to have a little more fun than just a quick bite and a tease.

“I’m your sire. You will obey me, boy.”

Dean’s eyes flashed black with anger at being spoken to in this way.

“Fine,” he grumbled

Now that he knew your friends would be safe, his attention turned back to you. Surprisingly he saw you bolt out of the chair and glare at him. You kept a fighting stance unsure of what was going on here but ready for a fight.

“I have no idea what kind of club this is but I’m done. I’m waiting for my friends in the coffee shop across the street. And I didn’t need saving. I wasn’t going anywhere with that man. I could have taken him.”

Crowley’s eyebrows went up. The scared dove was actually a firecracker. He smiled at you sizing you up.

“I see. Well, as the owner of Hell. I do humbly apologize for anything my boys did. They can be quite intense but I assure you, you are quite safe to wait here. I will personally make sure that no one bothers you, honey.”

“Y/N.”

“Excuse me, dear?”

“My name. You can call me that as opposed to honey. You have to earn that term.”

Crowley smirked back at you.

“Crowley.”

“Well, Crowley, thank you for the apology but I don’t know you and I have no idea whether I’m safer with you or outside in a café. What do you think? Well, lit-café or seedy club?”

“My club is not seedy.”

“Aren’t all strip clubs seedy?”

“It’s late, dear, and it’s dark. Let me walk you over to the -.”

“I like you, Crowley. I really do. If we’d met somewhere else aside from here I’d be all over you. Older, suave, sassy, protective. You’re catnip to me. Totally my type but if you’ll excuse me, I really do need caffeine, so -.”

Crowley froze. You admitted liking him but didn’t like his occupation. He was a vampire, not really a club owner. This was all just a cover. Would that change anything? He didn’t really want to let you go. He had a lot of enemies and it was late. To get across the street, you’d have to walk in the alleyway. A lot of things happened in that alleyway but if he said no now, he would seem like a major creep. And you would be afraid of him or fight him. He would lose you for sure. But you may get attacked if he let you go. Swallowing he looked into your eyes seeing the same steely determination he usually had. He stepped back reluctantly and let you leave.

“Watch her. Stay by her, that’s an order”, he telepathically told his vampire bouncers. They nodded.

“I could walk with you,” he pleaded from behind you.

You smiled before turning around. “Insistent, aren’t you? I’ll see you soon enough when I pick up my friends. And I think an establishment needs the owner present during business hours. Don’t cha think?”

He smiled at your sassiness. He loved your fierceness and your ability to sass him every minute. You were catnip to him. You pulled up the collar on your coat, the wind whipping your hair. You walked fast not liking the alleyway, not liking the whole night really except for Crowley. You were brought here by your friends and they ditched you for men. “Great girls’ night out, “ you muttered under your breath. You felt eyes on you but ignored it, nearly running to the crosswalk but you didn’t make it. A figure emerged from the shadows waving his hand and pinning you to the wall.

“Well. Well, what do we have here?”

Lucifer smelled your neck before licking it and then cautiously biting you. You screamed trying desperately to move. One of the bouncers was held back by Lucifer, the other exploded with a snap of his fingers. This was exactly what Crowley was afraid of. Lucifer’s eyes turned red with bloodlust as he started back at you.

“And here I was thinking it would be a boring night. No wonder Crowley nearly begged you to let him escort you. You smell delicious and look fantastic. I can’t wait to feel you. You will make a gorgeous little trophy wife.”

In a blink of an eye, he cut his wrist and forced it against your lips. His eyes glowed as his influence took over forcing you to drink. You tried harder to move. Crowley dove down from the rooftops falling on Lucifer. The hold he had on you faltered.

“Ouch. That hurt. You’ve come to save your mate. How cute but your weak, old man. You haven’t feed in a week. You really think you can defeat me? With what steely determination? How chilling!”

Crowley growled fiercely. His eyes glowing red and his fangs descended. Your breathing was slower, you felt dizzy and slowly lifted your hand to your neck noticing blood on it. You wiped your lips and saw more blood, his blood. You tried to throw it all up but nothing came out. You started to panic. Crowley knew he needed to get you to safety and now. Lucifer pushed him off.

“You’re always taking all the good things for yourself. You have the club and such a clever little way to get blood and what do I have? I have to survive on scraps? No, I don’t think so. This one’s mine. Oh, spoiler alert, she already drank my blood. Whoops.”

Lucifer laughed maniacally as he looked at Crowley’s tortured face. Your vision was getting spotty but you saw them both with red eyes. You looked back at your hand; your head was bobbing from side to side. Your eyes suddenly becoming very heavy. Crowley mind-melded with Dean who instantly saw what was happening. He lifted his head from your friend’s neck putting everyone to sleep and locking the door. He grabbed Sam and they ran out of the club. Crowley was out of practice fighting or rather he didn’t wish to access that part of himself. That darkness was difficult to shut down if he opened it. He tried his best but Lucifer was gaining the upper-hand until Dean came up behind him and jammed a wooden stake in his heart.

“You should really pay attention to your surroundings, Lucifer, and less on winning,” Dean said as he twisted the stake in Lucifer’s heart.

Lucifer whirled around in a fury ready to kill Dean when he suddenly crumbled bit by bit screaming, leaving only ashes in his place. You were finding it hard to breathe, not really sure what you were seeing. Sam ran over to you holding your head up and looked into your eyes. His eyes held only concern for you and no malice or lust as before. He gently placed you against the wall looking down at your neck. He looked back at Crowley who ran over. Sam held your neck up while Crowley licked the wound sucking out some of Lucifer’s claim on you. The wound closed and you collapsed in their arms. Sam carefully placed you in Crowley’s arms.

“Thank you both.”

“Anytime, Crowley.” Sam offered.

“You care for her, don’t you.”

Crowley doesn’t say anything. He just looks down at you smiling.

“It’s about time, Crowley, “ Dean says smirking as he and Sam go back into the club.

“We’ll take her friends back. Have a good night, boss,“ Sam added.

Crowley kisses your forehead as he teleports back to his mansion, carefully placing you on the bed. He didn’t want any of this. This was why he should have just left you alone but he couldn’t. You were hurt because of him. What was he going to say when you woke up? And would you see the man behind the monster?

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

You groaned feeling very soft sheets under you. Your arms shot out and you stretched, arching your back. Slowly you opened your eyes and were met with the worried eyes of Crowley. You were confused about how you got here and then you remembered the attack. He wasn’t human and now you were in his lair. Crowley felt your fear and sighed deeply.

“Not everybody is out to kill you.”

“Says the guy who kidnapped me!”

“You would have preferred that I left you there in the alleyway?”

“You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

“Here I was thinking you were just a pretty face.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Let’s cut the bs here. You, Dean and Sam, are all vampires and you saved me from another one.”

“Yes, actually I told you not to go but you had to have your cup of coffee.”

“How male of you. Blaming the woman for getting attacked. How about you for making such messed up enemies. What kind of person knows someone like that? And why didn’t you say -.”

“I’m a vampire who is completely in love with you at first sight and I want to keep you safe, so stop being stubborn. My enemy is outside so stay here and be my mate.”

You blinked back at him.

“Yeah, I don’t think that would have worked.”

“You’re in love with me?”

“You’re my mate. I am positive about that. You smell like heaven to me. I know it’s a lot to take in. Vampires exist and we have mates. Want me to prove it to you?”

“Can you?”

“Yes, I can.

You moved closer to the headboard groaning a bit. Crowley was at your side in a second holding you down.

“Lucifer is very powerful and I’m afraid he bonded with you before I could stop him. I couldn’t fully sever the bond. Your body needs rest. Don’t move one bit. I will take care of you. May I touch you?”

You were taken back by his question. He had saved your life after all and now he was asking if it was okay to touch you? You were still frightened by what vampires were capable of. You saw Lucifer blow someone up before your very eyes. And to think you were bonded to him now. You wanted more than anything to be at home and for all of this to be just a bad dream. But it wasn’t and Crowley saved you. You felt safe with him even if he was a vampire. He smiled down at you as he gingerly took your hand in his. His touch was so gentle, you sighed at the feeling of his flesh on yours. Crowley closed his eyes and spoke to you in his mind.

“You are my true mate, you will be able to see the things I’ve done but I caution you, I’ve done bad things. I have been a monster but I hope maybe I don’t have to be anymore. I want to change and become a better man. I want you to know who I am.”

You gulped when you looked into his eyes seeing such love there. You closed your eyes as you suddenly saw everything that he had done. You saw his victims and his own mother cursing him. He wasn’t lying when he said he was a monster. You felt his loneliness and pain. You felt his struggle with his bloodlust. Then you saw today from his eyes, felt his feeling for you, felt his connection to you and you knew you were really safe. You squeezed his hand and gestured to the bed. Crowley walked around the bed, careful to not come too close. You moved over a tad to give him more room, groaning again. His eyes flashed red before turning to you.

“The only real way to sever the bond is -.”

“To mate with me?”

“Yes.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Crowley smiled back at you and shook his head.

“There is nothing I want more than to claim you and keep you safe but you need to be sure. There is no going back after this. I don’t think you can make a decision that will affect the rest of your life in two hours. Rest here. I will come back in the morning and if you still want to mate with me then, I will do so.”

You smiled back at him.

“How gentlemanly of you.”

He kissed the back of your head and teleported to the vampire council meeting. He felt you fall asleep and knew that you were safe there. His bodyguards and the warding wouldn’t let anyone in to cause you any harm. He sat on his throne as the vampires told him the issues of the day.

#crowley #vampire!crowley #crowley au #crowley fanfic #crowley fanfiction #crowley x reader

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suallenparker · 6 years

Text

Philinda Fanfic: In Control, Chapter 6

RATING: Explicit as in lots of detailed sexual practices between two consenting adults.

SPOILER: ALL the backstory we saw on the show up until Melinda met Andrew. - Because this is set before she met him. ;)

SUMMARY: After Melinda expresses an interest into the BDSM scene, Phil offers to scratch that itch for her. So they meet at a hotel to explore her fantasies …

NOTES: See Chapter 1. Three updates in three weeks! Wohooo! I’m tired but I’m also proud of myself. Big BIG thank you to all of you for your amazing support! Without you I would be less proud right now because I wouldn’t have spent the last hours writing. Your kind words mean so much too me!

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o0o

Chapter 6: In which they go another round.

He nodded and licked his lips as he stared at hers. “How do you want this?”

“You haven't tied me up today.”

“Because you didn't say I could.”

She rolled her eyes, but damn, he was sweet. “Do you remember the Mendelssohns?” she asked.

“Yes.” His cock twitched and she wanted to touch him.

Instead she buried her hands in the soft sheets and crumbled the fabric up in her hands. “Could we do what they did the first time?”

He swallowed hard. “You want me to cuff you to the bed and fuck you from behind and slap your ass?”

“Would you be comfortable with -”

“Yes. I'm just …” He took a breath. “I'm just making sure.” For a moment he seemed as excited as she was about this, but then his brows furrowed. “I don't have cuffs with me, is it ok if we use my tie? It's silk.”

Oh my god, that man! She smiled. “Yes.”

“Do you remember the safe-word?”

“Yes.”

“Promise you'll use it, if I do something you don't like.”

“Promise.”

“Then strip while I get my tie.” He got off the bed.

“Yes, sir.”

He stopped mid-movement and turned to her, his brow raised. “Did you just call me sir?”

Oh dear. She nodded. Stella had addressed Theodor as sir and whenever Coulson acted all tough and she called him sir in the field, it also made her want to rip his clothes off and so she hadn't even thought about it and now …

He grinned and leaned down to kiss her. “Nice.”

She grinned too. Her smile eve widened, when he leaned down to give her a quick kiss.

“Now off with your clothes.”

He gave her space and she loved the look on his face as she pulled the shirt over her head.

He groaned and came in for another kiss. She only restrained herself from just grabbing his shirt and pulling him down on the bed with him because he had a mission, too.

She couldn't wait to fuck him again! Her panties were already wet with her juices.

Fortunately he was quick to grab his tie from the chair closest to his side of the bed, where all his clothes lay neatly folded up. It only took him two seconds to return to her. The same amount of time she needed to rid herself off her panties. And just enough time to lay sideways on the bed, head propped up on her elbow, looking as seductive as possible.

The way he stared and swallowed made it all worth it. He sat down on the edge of the bed again. “On your hands and knees, face the headboard, please.” His voice is rough.

She did as told and he mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like “So fucking beautiful.” as he ran his hand over her back, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

He was gentle when he wrapped the tie around her wrists. “Is this ok?” he asked.

“A little loose, actually.”

He stretched out his arm and slapped her ass. She barely felt it, his touch was so soft. “You were saying?” he asked like this should intimidate her.

She grinned. “I can escape this in seconds.”

Another slap, just as soft. Still, it turned her on. He leaned forward. With one hand under her chin, he turned her for a deep kiss that made her curl her toes.

“Keep your hands there and hold on tight!” he said. “Eyes up front.”

Orders she was just too happy to obey, especially since he got into position on the bed behind her. Well, except for the eyes up front bit. She really wanted to see his cock! But not more than to fuck him again, there they were.

Some ruffling, some shifting. She spread her legs some more just to torture him back. He groaned. And then, finally, his hand grabbed her hip and she felt the hot tip of his cock against her entrance. “You're so beautiful …” he mumbled as he pushed into her. “Wet, hot … velvet …”

She bucked up against him. “Please …” She needed him deeper, harder.

“You're so perfect.” He thrusted into her with steady strokes, slapping her ass occasionally.

“Harder,” she moaned.

“Don't be so demanding!” He slapped her left ass cheek again.

She gasped. “You can do that harder too.”

“Oh God.” He pushed into her hard and deep. “So fucking hot!” He slapped her ass again, harder this time.

“Yes!” God, yes!

“You're so damn hot!” He fucked her hard now. In and out, in and out. So fucking good! Another slap on her ass. It stung just the right amount. Then she felt him lean over her, his chest brushing against her back as he kept fucking her. “Are you close?” he mumbled. She felt his breath on her neck.

“Mmmmm…”

lHe gave a little laugh and kissed the point where her neck met her shoulder. “Come for me, Melinda.”

That was all it took.

o0o

It took them two weeks and two days instead of one to meet again. Now it was Sunday.

He had called her Melinda in bed. Her name sounded perfect when it came out of his mouth.

She hadn't told him that, because that would've meant telling him she'd like him to use her name more often.

And that was too personal, right?

They were just fucking. Just fuck buddies because he had a magic dick and fantastic hands and a talented mouth.

They would kiss again tonight. Going without kissing him the last two weeks though they had spent almost every minute together on that damned mission had frustrated her to no end.

Tonight they'd make up for that, hopefully.

Yesterday they had returned from a mission, this morning they had been debriefed.

Afterwards she went home, took a shower and then spent half an hour in front of her closet to pick an outfit. Which was ridiculous. Eventually she chose a backless, dark green dress with a holter top with a bow on her neck and a flared skirt that went below her knees. A loose skirt, he had said. This one he could just lift above her ass while she'd lay across his lap. Beneath it she only wore black lacy panties.

But thanks to her ridiculousness, she barely had only ten minutes left to do her hair and make up, so basically, she blow dried her hair, pinned it up, put on some mascara before she rushed out of the door. Of course on the way to the hotel she couldn't stop worrying about not wearing more make up, or at least some rouge. Or lip stick. Which was even more ridiculous.

Her heart was racing as she approached their hotel room.

This time he had checked them in as “The Smiths” again. She would not make a comment on that, she simply would not.

She swiped the key card and went in.

The room looked as perfect and sterile as the first one they had met in. There were even the same black and white photos on the wall. Same brass lamps on the night stand, same bed, same chairs, same layout of the space. Just the look outside the windows proofed they were in fact in another room.

He looked perfect in his dark blue suit and white shirt with rolled up sleeves. His jacket and tie lay on a chair.

Like last time he was already waiting for her with a drink. Whisky.

Good. She felt the need for something strong before she'd have to say what she wanted to do tonight. - What she wanted him to do to her.

She took the drink from him and downed it.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Just nervous.”

“Because of the spanking?” He tilted his head. “We don't have to do anything, if you don't like.”

But she wanted to do all the things!

“Please, just talk to me.”

o0o

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MORE NOTES: Please, if you have the time, tell me what you think!?

#philinda #philinda fanfiction #melinda may #phil coulson #agents of shield

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hiqueenbambiwaugh-blog · 6 years

Text

Bloodlines

Author: Dreamwvr73 (HiQueenBambiWaugh)

Fandom: The Magicians

Genre: AU, some canon events included

Word Count: 13000 +

Warnings: Possible triggers for mental health treatment, some mention of sexual assault

Summary: The Vikings are in Fillory to establish a relationship with the flourishing kingdom. When the king questions the lineage of High Queen Margo, will there be peace or war between the two kingdoms?

Author’s Notes: This is for the Welter’s Challenge Trials Big Bang, Tier 1! I don’t own The Magicians, they were created by much cooler people than me, but I thank them! I also want to thank All-Hale-Eliot... my BFF that was my own personal cheerleader when I had my doubts and served as my editor when the story was done. This is my first Magicians Fic.

Castle Whitespire was quiet for the night, and the only light that shone was from the torches along the wall. High Queen Margo’s black boots made echoing footfalls as she walked down the hall. The high queen wore a black silky shirt with gold sparkles all over it; her pants were black with gold piping down the legs.

Margo was muttering to herself as she stomped down the hall, then finally arrived at her destination: Eliot’s common room with its solid oak double doors. Margo gripped the cold gold handles, opened the doors, and poked her head in. There sat her husband Eliot in his favorite grey paisley outfit, his dark head slumped to one side. Clearly, the high king had been working late and had fallen asleep at his table.

“Oh Baboo…” Margo sighed as her anger bled out of her and she stepped into the room. She did an about face then closed the doors behind her. She crossed the room and went over to Eliot’s thick and heavy wooden chair. Eliot’s head lolled, and there was heavy stubble along his cheeks and neck, a sign of how hard he had been working.

Awww poor baby. She thought to herself. He works so hard…

“El, wake up.” She gently touched his face and straightened his head. The motion and touch made Eliot’s eyes open, and the exhausted amber depths peered at her.

“Bambi-” He said, bringing one big hand up and rubbing it across his face. “What time is it?”

“After midnight.” She turned to see the papers scattered all the shining surface of Eliot’s table.

“Christ, its late. A queen in your condition should be resting.”

“And what about you?” Margo motioned to Eliot’s round belly. “Idri didn’t just knock me up you realize.”

“I prefer the term with child, thank you very much.” Eliot swatted at her hand then gently touched his belly rubbing it. His thoughts drifted back to the night both he and Margo got pregnant. Shortly after the quadruple wedding, the royals had gone to the Outer Isles for their honeymoon. A rare moon had occurred on the island, and the resulting threesome between Margo, Eliot, and Idri, had resulted in the high king and high queen getting pregnant. The shock of being pregnant had shocked Eliot so much the high king had nearly fainted, but the specialness of it slowly won over his fear. Eliot’s thoughts snapped back to the present.

“Quentin and Gabriel?” Eliot asked as he stood up.

“Got back a few minutes ago, which is why I’m here. Can’t go to bed without the high king.”

“Fine,” Eliot sighed. “Our bed is a lot more comfortable than that chair.” He touched his hands to his lower back and leaned back, stretching.

“God, my back is killing me.” He groaned.

“The baby is putting pressure on your spine.” Margo stepped behind him and rubbed his lower back. “And wearing those boots isn’t helping either.”

“Me without my boots? You might as well ask me to run around naked.” Eliot pouted.

“For Christ’s sake El, you’re already ten feet tall, do you really need the help? You look like a curly, hairy tree!”

Eliot sighed. “Bambi, sweetie, can we talk about this later? I’m too tired to tongue battle with you.”

Margo nodded then slipped her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed into his back.

“Sorry, just tired too. Let’s go cuddle with our trio of hot husbands waiting for us in the royal bed chamber.”

“That’s the best idea ever.” Eliot slipped his arm around Margo, then the two of them headed out of Eliot’s common room.

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

The sound of the shower turned off and a few moments later, the bathroom door opened. King Idri wore a white robe, his dark skin shining from the shower. He had a thick white towel in his hands and used it to dry off the top of his smooth head. Sitting on the king-size bed were Quentin and Gabriel, the two men in robes, one blue and one grey. Quentin’s hair was almost to his shoulders, and the silver streak in his bangs drew Idri’s dark eyes. The younger man was reading a book and then turned to look at him.

“Hey, ready for bed?” Quentin set his leather journal book aside.

Idri then shifted his gaze to Gabriel, and if there was one unusual choice for a husband Eliot had made, it was Gabriel MacKenzie . Half witch and half magician, Gabriel was 6 feet tall, had broad shoulders, long legs, and the build of a California surfer with a shaggy mop of blonde hair. Gabriel’s handsome face and strong jaw was only accentuated by his light blue eyes, and a perfect bright smile that could easily earn him top billing in a Hollywood movie. Though despite his good looks, the combination of power he had was unprecedent, and he could perform spells with ease and talent. Eliot and Gabriel had met after Eliot was newly crowned the high king of Fillory. Adjusting to his new role was not an easy one, and Eliot had made frequent trips to earth. During one such short trip home, Gabriel had crossed his path in New York City, and it was love at first sight for them both. Idri stepped closer to the bed close to the two men.

“I’m ready for bed, and perhaps more.” He reached out and ran his finger along Quentin’s silver streak, a permanent reminder of when Quentin had faced down the fairy queen some months earlier, then leaned in and kissed him gently. Quentin returned it, blushing as he tucked a stray hair behind his ear. Idri then turned and captured Gabriel’s lips in a deep kiss; the young man returned it and began opening the tie on Idri’s robe.

“Mmmhpp!” Idri broke the kiss and laughed as he gently gripped Gabriel’s hand. “Patience my husband, we must wait for our other spouses.”

Gabriel pouted as he got up. “Then let me go get them,” He tightened the tie on his grey robe and rounded the bed.

He was about to open the doors when they opened on their own, and there stood the high king and high queen. “Shit! I was just coming to get you.” Gabriel tugged them both inside, and into his arms. “Mmmmm. Now that is what I need,” Gabriel nudged both of their heads.

“Yeah…” Quentin sighed as he watched. “Oh Gabriel, would you quit being a spog?”

Margo dropped her arms from Gabriel’s waist. “Quentin, what the hell is a spog?”

“Spouse hog.” Eliot answered for her then kissed Gabriel before stepping away from him. He went over to Quentin and slipped an arm around his waist.

“Don’t worry Quenny, plenty of me to go around.” Eliot drew Quentin’s head to his chest and closed his eyes.

“Spog,” Gabriel made a face then closed and locked the double bedroom doors. “You make me sound like Smaug’s country cousin.”

“Come and help me get undressed, Spog.” Margo wrinkled her nose at him then went to the walk-in closet. She opened the doors and stepped inside. Gabriel grinned and followed her into it, the double doors closing behind them both.

Quentin closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Eliot’s long, lean body in his arms and how his growing belly only accentuated his lovely shape. Oh, Ember, I love him so much. Quentin thought, then remembered the first time he had seen Eliot lying on top of the Brakebills sign. I thought he was a hallucination, and then part of me prayed he wasn’t because I fell in love with him in that moment.

“Quentin, if we stay like this much longer I’ll be asleep on my feet.” Eliot’s voice broke Quentin out of his thoughts and let go of him.

“Sorry, sorry, just…” Quentin backed off fast.

“Just what?” Eliot asked as he gently removed his crown and set it on the special purple velvet pillow with gold piping that sat on top of one of the oak nightstands on both sides of the bed.

“I like holding you.” Quentin said softly as he watched his spouse.

Eliot smiled as he unbuttoned his grey paisley jacket. Ever since the group of magicians had decided to get married to be one happy polyamorous family, they had all taken a vow to have total honesty, no matter what. Though it had been tough for Quentin to be that open, he slowly had been learning to express how he felt to his spouses.

“We have that meeting with the Vikings tomorrow, and we need to get some rest to make sure everything is ready. You know how anal Tick can be, and I don’t mean the good kind.” With that, Eliot climbed into the big bed and waved for his spouses to join him.

The last of the torches blew out, and Whitespire was silent and peaceful as the royal family settled into bed.

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

The next morning dawned cold, and the servants bustled to make sure that all the rooms in the castle were warm, especially the throne room. Margo was up before dawn and had slipped out of the bedroom to oversee preparations. The Viking contingent was due by 10 am, and she wanted plenty of time to get the castle ready, and then to get dressed herself. Margo barked out orders wearing nothing but a pink silk robe and her crown, which made for an interesting sight. Finally, the food was being made, the throne room was being set up with a large table, and all the fancy gold plates, silverware, and goblets were being polished up and set onto it. Margo glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the wall, and with one hour to spare, she headed back into the royal bed chamber. The others were already up and fussing over their outfits, Eliot being the most vocal. The king-sized bed was covered with clothing and he held each item up to his long, frame.

“Que, what do you think?” Eliot held up light grey pants with a white filmy shirt with see-through sleeves and heavy ruffles at the wrist. Quentin, who was all in black, looked at the outfit and shook his head.

“The pants are nice, but the shirt…” He wrinkled his nose. “It’s too… um…” He tucked a stray hair behind his ear. Eliot blinked at him expectedly, wanting him to finish his thoughts.

“Um what? What about the shirt?”

“From what I hear, these Vikings are pretty tough, and that shirt screams more like you’re doing a revival of Pirates of Penzance.”

“Nothing wrong with musical theater, Que but now is not the time for me to look like Rex Smith.” Eliot kept the pants but dropped the shirt on the bed and picked up a black silk shirt with a long black-and-grey tight-fitting coat with bright silver buttons.

“Oh yes! Now this is butch!”

Margo watched all this as she took her crown off her head and set it on the nightstand. She untied her robe and disappeared into her closet. Gabriel was in there with brown velvet pants on, and nothing else. Margo stopped a moment to admire his muscled chest and arms as he looked through the shirts. He pulled a tan paisley shirt out. One thing that most of the kingdom did not know about Gabriel was his fine sewing skills. Running a kingdom was a tough job, and the half warlock, half magician found sewing very soothing. He frequently made all the royals their clothing, and Eliot especially was delighted at his husband’s sewing ability.

“What do you think, Margie?” He turned to look at her, the shirt up to his broad chest.

“The shirt or everything else?” Margo smiled and went over to him. “You are a genius when it comes to making clothes, Gabriel, and I think you look hot.” The two briefly kissed, then she turned and pulled out a velvet dress with a gold-and-silver embroidered neckline. Gabriel had made her the dress, and a long velvet-and-gold overcoat that had the same embroidery as around the neck and down the sides of the dress to match it. Gabriel saw her choice and smiled.

“You too.”

“Where’s Idri?” Margo parted her robe and let it fall from her arms.

“Idri went out with the knights to greet the Vikings. He wore the white leather and fur outfit I made for him, he looks quite regal.” Gabriel slipped the shirt on and began buttoning it up. He watched as Margo choose her bra and panties and saw how furrowed her brow was.

“Margo… it’s going to be okay.” Gabriel stepped closer to her and touched her shoulders.

“It’s just—this is our first meeting with these guys, and from what we’ve heard, if they don’t make peace, they invade and slaughter. I’m pregnant and El is pregnant, so what if they think we’re easy prey?”

“You know I enchanted all these clothes, no one is going to see the babies, and Eliot can be tough when it comes to protecting his home.”

“You’re right.” Margo straightened her spine and took a deep breath. “I better hurry, I need to make sure Tick has everything ready.”

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

The sounds of marching echoed through the castle, and it made all the royals immediately stop what they were doing. In the throne room, Margo and Eliot glanced at each other.

“Did we stumble into the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade?”

Eliot wrinkled his nose. “Please, I wouldn’t be caught dead on 6th Avenue.”

The sounds grew louder until they were right outside the double doors. Everyone straightened their spines and Margo reached out to take Eliot’s hand, giving it a squeeze. He turned to look at her and smiled, then focused his attention on the doors as they opened. The knights were in blue tunics with the Fillorian crest on their chests and long navy blue matching cloaks, their swords at their sides. Idri’s expression was one one of pride as he escorted half a dozen burly men in. They resembled the starting lineup of a football team with their body size, all of them in various colors of velvet, leather, and chain mail. The leader was tall, with a heavy black beard and shoulder-length curly hair that matched. He had cat-like green eyes and a giant broad sword at his side. He wore solid black with a matching cloak and a heavy gold and jewel-encrusted necklace around his neck.

Idri took him to the base of the stairs then turned to Margo and Eliot.

“High King Eliot, High Queen Margo… may I present King Crissimar.” The burly man bowed his head but casually moved one hand to the hilt of his big sword.

The knights, who were surrounding the stage where the royals sat, all reacted to the move. In one swift movement, the men all drew their swords and pointed them right at the Viking king. The air in the throne room suddenly grew thick with tension. A tall knight with long blond hair moved to the front: he, too, had his sword drawn and moved closer to the king.

“Your sword, Your Majesty. You were permitted to keep it by King Idri, but only if you showed no threat with it.”

King Crissimar slowly raised his hand, palm up. “Forgiveness Sir Knight. You may take my sword and those of my men.”

“May I introduce Sir Alex. He personally guards the royal family.” Eliot said, and Alex gave the Viking a quick, shallow bow.

“The Fillorian knights are here for our protection and yours.” Eliot glanced to the other knights, who then looked to Alex, who nodded. The half dozen men, including King Crissimar, were stripped of their weapons before they stepped back.

King Crissimar straightened as Sir Alex removed his sword, then raised his chin. Eliot saw the look on the Viking king’s face and wondered if he was offended. Once the knights moved back with the weapons, he seemed to ease down.

“You have strong knights and good instincts, King Eliot, I know how I will be safe here. A pleasure to meet you both.” Crissimar’s light green eyes slid to Margo. He stared at her long enough for Margo to shift her stance a little.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Margo said as he continued to stare. She flicked her gaze to Eliot.

“King Crissimar, are you admiring my queen’s beauty or is there something else on your mind? You’ve hardly taken your eyes off her.”

Crissimar finally shifted his gaze to Eliot. “News of how you became the king of Fillory has spread far and wide. Everyone knows how you were given the knife test, and your royal blood was revealed. However, what is not known is the blood status of the High Queen.”

Crissimar’s men began to murmur behind him, and everyone turned their gaze to Margo. Margo bristled at the attention and stepped forward.

“If you have something to say King Crissimar, you can say it to me.”

Eliot nodded. “Margo is the High Queen, I can assure you she is worthy of the crown.”

The men again began to whisper, and the world stafkarl was heard. Sir Alex frowned as he heard it and he gave a look to Eliot.

“Sir Alex?” Eliot waved him closer, and the knight marched up the stairs to where Eliot stood. He leaned in to whisper to him.

“The word they keep using is Old Norse, it means tramp.” Everyone watched as the blond man conferred with the king. Eliot’s amber eyes suddenly turned fiery and his jaw instantly clenched.

“King Crissimar, do you question the virtue of the High Queen?”

“Of course not, King Eliot.” Crissimar gave Eliot his most charming smile.

“Then why does my Head Knight tell me that the word tramp is what your men are whispering?”

“Tramp?” Margo put her hands on her hips. “You think I’m a tramp?”

King Eliot turned to look at Margo and discreetly shifted his weight. Though he wore shielded clothing to hide his pregnancy, the magic could not help the muscles of his lower back, which were starting to get tired. But he was not about to show any hint or pain or weakness in the presence of the Vikings.

“You dare insult the High Queen?” Quentin stepped forward, his brown eyes burning with fury. “You come into our kingdom and make an accusation like that?”

“We do not look kindly on future allies insulting our spouse.” Gabriel too was on his feet.

Margo looked at Eliot, who put his hands up.

“We must have peace between our two kingdoms, and this is certainly off to a bang-up start.” He sighed and looked back to Crissimar.

“What can we do to prove to you that High Queen Margo is not some…” He looked at Alex.

“Stafkarl.” Alex said, and Eliot wrinkled his nose.

“Stafkarl? Sounds like a venereal disease.” Eliot said, and Margo stared daggers at him. “As I was saying, how can we prove to you that Queen Margo is not some stafkarl in a crown?”

One of Crissimar’s men stepped closer and the Viking king turned so the two could speak. They were speaking Old Norse, and trying to keep it low enough so Alex could not hear them. Finally, the two men turned back to Eliot.

“We have a test for blood purity, much as the one you took, King Eliot. Permit us to test the High Queen, and then the peace process can go forward.”

“And where is this test?” Margo said. Crissimar pretended not to hear her and addressed Eliot.

“The blade and test can be brought from our land, we can send a message and it will take one day for it to arrive.”

“That’s fine.” Eliot stood. “Sir Alex, escort the king and his men to the guest quarters, and post double guards outside the room.”

“Yes, My King.” Alex bowed and motioned to the knights, who formed and escort around King Crissimar and his men. The double doors were then opened, and the group of men all headed out.

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

After the confrontation in the throne room, the castle and kingdom were abuzz from what had happened with the Viking contingent. Every time the high queen walked into a room, it went instantly silent, and people would lean in close to whisper to each other. Finally, Margo had enough of the whispering and retired to the royal bedchamber, blaming her pregnancy for her absence. The weather outside had turned to snow, and she stood at the window, watching it fall. Having changed out of her clothes, she was back in her pink robe, her crown absent from her head. She sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest. The snow was beginning to cover everything in white, making Fillory look pure and innocent.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A voice said from the door, Margo turned to see Quentin come in and close and lock the double doors.

“No…. I’m not that cheap, despite rumors to the contrary.”

“What do you mean?” Quentin asked as he went over by the window and stood behind her. His fine-boned hands touched her shoulders and rubbed them.

Margo closed her eyes, trying to let Quentin’s touch soothe her. “Come on, Quentin, you’re not deaf or dumb! You heard what everyone’s been saying.” She said softly. “Good King Crissimar has me pegged as nothing more than a whore in a crown.”

“Margo, of course you’re not. Don’t ever say anything like that ever again!” He turned her around to they were face to face. “You’re the High Queen of Fillory.” The tips of his fingers brushed her cheek.

“And, you’re about to become a mother, and I know you’ll be amazing at that too.”

Margo’s eyes grew bright. “Thank you, Quentin.” Quentin hugged her tight.

“I’m going to let you rest, okay?” He pulled back and touched her hair.

Margo reached up to touch his hand then stood on her tip toes and kissed him gently, then touched her forehead to his. “I love you, Quentin.”

“To the moon and back.” Quentin said then kissed the tip of her nose. He then took her by the hand, led her over to the big bed, pulled the duvet back, and helped her into it.

“There!” He adjusted the plush purple comforter over her, then gently removed her crown and set it on her nightstand. “Get some rest.”

Margo turned on her right side, then she grabbed one of Eliot’s velvet purple pillows, pressed it into her chest, and closed her eyes as memories of chanting children filled her mind.

“Hey Shorty, smile so we can see you! The sun went down!”

“Margo Fargo, pudding and pie, her mom got knocked up by an unknown guy!”

“No one wanted you, Margo the Maggot! That’s why no one knows who your parents are!”

Margo whimpered in her sleep and turned. She had been sent to an orphanage when she was about two and had arrived on the doorstep of a police station with nothing but a small gold box with strange symbols carved into its tarnished surface she wore on a chain around her neck. Margo had absolutely no memory at all of either her mother or her father. Though despite their best efforts at detective work, the orphanage workers and the Department of Children’s Services were unable to find out anything about the little lost toddler they now had charge of. With local foster homes being filled to their capacity, the only place left for Margo to go was the Brooklyn Orphanage.

The box Margo had been abandoned with sat in her nightstand in a small lockbox, but she never looked at it because all it did was frustrate her. Margo had shown it to everyone she thought could help decipher it, but no one recognized the symbols. Despite its somewhat frail and weathered appearance, the box could withstand tools, lock picks, keys of every shape and size, and most of all, magic. Margo herself had tried to open the box with magic, but it had no effect. Finally, out of sheer annoyance, Margo had dropped the box in another lock box and put it in her nightstand. The only person who knew anything about Margo’s past was Eliot, and even though he knew about the box, she had never shown it to him.

“Darkie Darkie 2 by 4, daddy’s a druggie and mommy’s a whore! No one wants to see you live, the nurse will give you a sedative!” The echoing memories of cruel chants grew louder and louder, causing Margo to groan and whimper in her sleep as she tossed and turned. The double doors of the royal bed chamber opened, and a dark curly head poked in. Eliot came into the room quietly, then shut the double doors behind him.

“Margo the Maggot! Margo the Maggot!” Eliot heard the echo in his head thanks to his telekinesis, and his powers gave him flashes of a young Margo, surrounded by a circle of nasty-looking children that were shoving her around. He then turned to see Margo thrashing about on the bed and rushed over to her.

“Margo…” He reached out and gently shook her. “Come on Sweetie, don’t let those nasty little miscreants get to you!” Eliot shook her again, a little harder this time, his fingers pressing into her flesh.

“Margo!” The kids’ voices dissolved into a voice she recognized, and she suddenly sat up to come face to face with Eliot.

“Baboo…” She whispered before she burst into tears, covering her face. Eliot sighed as he drew her to his chest and held her.

“Shhhh, it’s all right. You were dreaming.” Eliot said as he stroked the back of her head.

“King Crissimar wants to know where I came from El, how can I tell him when I don’t even fucking know?” Margo sniffled. Eliot pursed his lips a moment then shrugged.

“Then let’s go find out.”

“What?” Margo pulled back to look up at him, her eyebrows furrowing.

“The orphanage in Brooklyn was where you were before Henry found you on the streets, right?”

“Yeah.” Margo wiped her face. “But after all this time?”

“Worth a shot right? And… did you ever show him your little lock box?”

“Yeah, but he’s just as clueless about it as everyone else.” Margo sighed. Eliot saw the conflict on her face and he touched her cheek.

“You are Margo, you are fabulous, and it’s time we found out just how fabulous you really are. Crissimar isn’t the only one that’s going to have questions.” His hand slid from her cheek then came to rest on her small belly. “Maybe it’s time all of us got some answers.” Eliot said softly.

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

Little Lamb Orphans Home sat close to Upper Bay and was a red brick building built so long ago that it was now a faded orange color. There were two giant equally orange brick smoke stacks behind it, and from a distance, the building looked like a factory from the early 1900’s. The home had closed down a few years earlier, and now it was used for the Department of Children’s Services records storage. Margo stared up at the building, her heart sinking into her shoes. Though dressed in a loose black sweater, black jeans, and knee-high black suede boots, she felt like a five year old once again.

“Why do I feel like I should be wearing coveralls and a miner’s helmet?” Margo jumped as Eliot spoke beside her. The temperature was more than a bit crisp in New York, and Eliot dressed for it with a grey baggy cable knit turtle neck sweater, light plum colored slacks, and a dark-grey long wool coat with the collar turned up.

“What?” Margo asked.

“I said, I feel like I’m in the musical revival of Coal Miner’s Daughter.” Eliot wrinkled his nose as he looked at the building. “Or like I need a long, hot, shower.”

“I feel like I need more than that.” Margo sighed and ran a hand over her belly.

“Where did they keep the records in this place?” Eliot asked as he slipped a supportive arm around her shoulders.

“The orphanage records were kept in the attic, I doubt they changed that.” Margo leaned into Eliot.

“Shall we Abracadabra our way up there?” Eliot looked down at her. He saw the look on her face and gently kissed her forehead. “Courage, Bambi.”

“Trying.” Margo met his gaze. “Let’s get up there.”

Eliot let go of her and the two turned to face one another. They rubbed their hands together, then made a square with their hands then opened it, and formed a rainbow shape over their heads. The air around them rippled, and a moment later, the duo appeared in the attic of the ancient brick building. The overpowering aroma of dust hit Eliot so hard that he began to sneeze uncontrollably. Margo began to wheeze; she formed a circle with her thumb and index finger, then blew a bubble from it that encapsulated them both. No longer inhaling dust and mold, the two began to calm down. Eliot plucked a monogrammed handkerchief from his inner jacket pocket and touched it to his nose.

“Thank you, Honey. I think I can breathe again.”

“Me too, but you’re not the only one that needs a long, hot shower now.” Margo said as they both turned to survey the room. There were big industrial-size black metal shelves that covered every wall surface of the attic. The big brown boxes had white labels on them with a computer printout of a year, the name of a children’s home, and the office whose jurisdiction it was under. Eliot looked the files up and down.

“Accio Margo’s file!” He shouted, and Margo rolled her eyes.

“Really, King? Really?” Margo put her hands on her hips, her brown eyes fiery as she stared at Eliot. He winced at her flare of temper.

“Sorry… but I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Yeah. I get it, Eliot Potter, but it didn’t work.” Margo sighed as she looked over all the shelves. “You start at that end, I’ll start over here. We need to go back 10 years minimum.”

“You were there for over 12 years.” Eliot said as he walked to the other side of the room.

“I know, but who knows if they kept good records or not.” Margo in the opposite direction and started looking over all the boxes.

“Come on…come on…” Margo said to herself as she began looking over all the labels. The writing was faded, dusty, and difficult to read. Some of the shelves were too high to see despite her heels, so she closed her eyes and levitated two feet off the floor. Finally, the boxes at the top were in view and she read each one over before moving to the next set of three that were stacked on top of one another. Margo reached out and slid one box aside, getting a blast of dust right in her face.

“Goddamn it!” She started sneezing with such force that it made her start to bounce around the room like a deflating balloon. Margo zipped right into Eliot, who neatly caught her.

“Okay, flying queen!”

Margo held onto Eliot and opened her mouth to thank him when another powerful sneeze knocked them both of them into a shelf with such force that it made the whole structure shake. Eliot slid to the ground, his legs spread in a V shape, and Margo settled between them with her back to his chest.

“Well, that was dramatic!”

A box at the top of the shelf teetered a bit, came tumbling down, and busted open right in front of them.

“Sorry, El, I got a noseful of dust!” Margo brushed her fingers under her nose to scratch it, then glanced at the papers that were all over the floor. She was about to swear when she saw the name on the box.

“That’s it!” Margo got up fast and began sorting through the scattered papers. She set the box right side up and began pulling files out of it. Finally, she found a file on the bottom of the box dated 12 years ago.

“Jane Doe, age around 2.” Margo began to read out loud, then shifted from her knees to sit on the dusty floor.

“You didn’t even have a name?” Eliot took the now-empty box and put all the files back in it.

“I… I guess I didn’t.” Margo read the first page she found, then shuffled to the next one. Her brow was furrowed, and Eliot had never seen her look so serious or be so quiet.

“Margo? Bambi?” Eliot said softly, then reached out to touch her knee, which made her jump.

“Sorry.” He said as he slid his hand away, but then she grabbed it with her hand.

“They named me.” Margo said softly, then her dark eyes raised to meet Eliot’s amber.

“I was found covered in blood.” She handed him the paper that was labeled Police Report.

“Says you were found wandering this abandoned neighborhood in Brooklyn.” Eliot read from the paper. “You kept pointing to a house, but when the cops busted in, all they found was blood everywhere and no trace of any bodies.” He lifted his gaze, the amber depths bright with both sympathy and sadness.

“They never knew what happened, but you were the only survivor.”

Margo signed, her dark head bowing. “Maybe, I’m just not meant to know.”

“Margo…” Eliot set the paper down and drew his spouse into a hug. “No matter what, Margo Jane Waugh, you are the High Queen of Fillory and we all love you. The people of Fillory love you too, and frankly, fuck Crissimar and his horned assholes!”

“Eliot, we can’t say Fuck Crissimar!” Margo sniffled and wiped her face. “We need them to be our allies or they’ll invade Fillory. You know this!”

“He called the High Queen of Fillory a whore, and I should slit his throat for that!” Eliot snapped, and then he deflated and sighed. “We’re boned without lube either way, aren’t we?”

“No. You know what, El? I am the High Queen, and I deserve to wear the crown!” Margo smoothed her hair back. “And if I have to defend it, I will!”

Margo got to her feet as she gently tugged Eliot up too, then stared up at him.

“I want to do what’s best for our home, Baboo.” She said firmly.

“If High Queen Margo Waugh wants to fight for her kingdom, and what is best for her people, then it’s always the right decision.” Eliot said, then kissed her cheek.

Margo nodded, but then she went over to the window and stared out across the street. She saw another fading red brick building and an old memory flashed in her mind.

“Wait…what?” She muttered, and Eliot joined her.

“What is it?”

Margo raised her hand and her red painted nail tapped the dirty, dusty glass. “Do you see that building over there?”

“The disgusting one that looks like one good windstorm will make it collapse?” Eliot wrinkled his nose at the dust on the windows.

“Yeah! I remember it. Something about it is really familiar.” Margo’s hand drifted down to touch her small belly and she rubbed it.

“Well, since this little trip to Dusty Land is mostly a bust…”

“Wouldn’t hurt to check it out.”

“Okay, I’m easy.” Eliot said, and Margo turned and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Of course you are, but I love you anyway.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave his lips a brief kiss.

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

The building across the compound was the same faded orange brick as its neighbor. However, it was in much worse condition with the bricks cracked and crumbling, and one half of it was sagging where the New York weather had taken its toll on the structure. The high queen and high king had chosen to go around the back of the building, which was not the part of that was sagging, and had found a door partially hanging off its hinges. With a well-aimed magical missile from Eliot’s palm, the door was sent flying, and Margo carefully stepped over the threshold and stepped inside.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” She said as she walked in and stood awe struck at the rows of stacked-up metal beds that filled half the room. The white paint was chipping off in big chunks that covered the floor, and the beds themselves were rusting and becoming twisted from the humidity in the air. There were huge chunks of plaster from both the walls and the ceilings on the floor too, and the smell in the air was thick with mold and dust.

“Jesus…” The sound of Eliot’s voice beside her made Margo jump about a foot in the air, and she whipped around to see him standing next to her, his nose wrinkled.

“You grew up in the Chamber of Secrets?”

“More like the Chamber of Horrors.” Margo whispered as she looked around. She could hear the echoes of the kids that made fun of her, and she reached down to rub at her own belly.

“Used to cry myself to sleep every night in one of those rotting beds.”

Eliot watched her with a touch of concern. The Margo he knew that could command a room with the quick sashay of her walk was gone, replaced by this tiny woman stuck in her past.

“And now you have a royal bedchamber you share with four hot men.” Eliot said, and it made Margo blink and turn to look at him. “Sorry, Baboo. Just…felt like that little girl again.” Margo sighed and straightened her spine as she took Eliot by the hand, and they began to look around.

“So much bigger than I remember it.” Margo squeezed Eliot’s hand as they carefully stepped around the huge stacks of metal beds. A staircase was on the far left side of the room, and the two stopped at the bottom of them. The wooden stairs were leaning over a little, the paint was cracking, and Eliot shook his head.

“No way Sweetie, we’re pregnant and this looks like a Final Destination scene waiting to happen, so I have another idea.” Eliot stepped back and held out his hands. Margo smiled as she faced Eliot, and slipped her small hands into his. The high king closed his eyes, and a wind began to blow through the old building, which made it whistle and howl. Margo and Eliot slowly rose in the air higher and higher until they were able to come down gently onto the second level of the building. The staircase groaned under their feet, and shook a little, but seemed to be much more stable than the staircase. Margo lost her footing a little, but Eliot still had her hands and steadied her.

“Geez, been awhile since you did that.” Margo let go of his hands and headed down the hall that had doors on the left side.

“One of these used to be my room.” She stopped at the fourth door down and tipped her head to one side. “Something else…” Margo turned to Eliot. “I know there was another door here, like a small storeroom.” She went over to a wall at the end of the row, and it had blue and white striped wallpaper that was speckled with rust spots from the pipes behind the walls. Margo reached out to place her palm on the paper, and part of it flaked off. She brushed off her hands.

“Gross!”

“Here, let me.” Eliot said, then he rubbed his hands together and formed a square with his thumbs and index fingers. He raised the square up to his face and peered through it at the wall and saw a small room with boxes that was similar to what was across the compound.

“You’re right, there’s a small room back there.” Eliot said as he lowered his hands.

“Looks like there’s boxes of files.” Eliot went over to the wall and tapped it, listening for a place he could break. He found a hollow-sounding place near the middle and waved for Margo to step back. Eliot tutted, then clapped his palms together then opened them, and a small magical missile emerged from his palm to strike that section of the wall. The wall blew apart with bits of the plaster, wood, and paint erupting out of it. Margo and Eliot both turned away, waiting for the air to clear, then stepped closer when it finally did. Eliot bent over a little to see the old white door with a tarnished brass door knob. Eliot put one long arm into the small hole, turned the knob, then pulled the door back. The ancient door creaked, but then the hinges gave, and the paneling over it broke off and fell to the floor.

“Thank you, Oh Mighty Hercules.” Margo teased as she stepped around him then into the hidden room.

“Please, like I’d be caught dead in a toga!” Eliot brushed the dust, paint, and bits of plaster off his sleeve then followed her. The room was in the same terrible condition as the rest of the building with its holey walls, holey ceiling, paint chips all over the floor that creaked badly with every step they took. The only difference was the north wall of the dilapidated room had three dark grey filing cabinets that were rusting and leaning a little from their weight affecting the floor on which they sat.

“Okay, you start on the left cabinet, I’ll start on the right cabinet, and then we’ll meet in the middle.”

“If the cabinets don’t crash through the floor, you mean?” Eliot said as he went to the right cabinet, gripped the tarnished handle, then tugged open the drawer. A cloud of dust came out of the drawer and Eliot turned his face away and coughed.

“Jesus! I’ve inhaled enough lint, paint, and dust to sneeze a house out of my nose.” Eliot then focused his attention back on the files and began flipping through the sections that had faded tags with faded letters written on them. Next to him, Margo had tugged open her drawer and was sorting as well.

“Cathy Ryerson.” She said out loud, then stopped a moment as memories began to fill her mind. She saw a sandy-haired, green-eyed girl with freckles on her nose.

“I remember her.” Margo looked at Eliot.

“She vanished one day.”

“Vanished? Like kidnapped or something?” Eliot’s amber eyes looked concerned.

“I don’t know, I guess they figured she ran off.” Margo flipped to the next file and saw another name.

“Scott Smith.” Margo saw flashes of a young red-haired boy. “He was gone, too.”

“That explains why they’re in here.” Eliot said. “Hiding their sins. It’s much easier to hide the files in here, and pretend the kids weren’t here, then to explain their negligence.” He pulled out a folder with Margo’s name on it. “Here’s yours.”

Margo saw the faded yellow folder in Eliot’s big hands and closed her eyes. “I don’t know if I can look at it, El.” She said softly and turned away.

“I can,” Eliot leaned down, kissed her cheek, then took the folder, opened it and took a few steps away from her as he read. “This file has more information about what happened when you were found.”

“Like what?” Margo went over to him and looked at the file in his hands, then took it from him and glanced at its contents.

“Elizabeth Arias Hanson was married to Peter Hanson for two years, but the marriage was unhappy and there were many visits by Child Protective Services.” Margo read more words and took in a big breath.

“They found enough blood to draw the conclusion they were both killed, but no bodies.” She raised her gaze to Eliot, and there were tears in her eyes. “No information about them could be found but… at least I know their names.” She said, and Eliot drew her into a hug.

“It’s all right Sweetie, whoever they were, I’m thankful for them both because I wouldn’t have my Bambi and queen if not for them, no matter what happened.”

Margo closed the folder then wrapped her arms around Eliot. “Thanks, Sweetie.” She said softly, then pulled back.

“Let’s just take the folder and go home. The Vikings are probably getting antsy.”

“You’re not alone in this, Margo, I swear.” Eliot said softly and gently placed a hand on her cheek.

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

Margo and Eliot arrived back in Fillory, but because of the time difference between Earth and the magical kingdom, it was very late at night. Gabriel, Idri, and Quentin were in their robes, pacing circles in the royal bedchamber. Quentin finally stopped and tucked the hair behind his ears.

“Ugh, I hate this!” He said as he jammed his hands into the pockets of his tan robe.

“We should have heard something by now!”

Gabriel went over to his husband and took Quentin’s hands out of the pockets so he could hold them.

“You know the time difference between here and Earth, and you know they had to do a little investigating about Margo’s past.” Gabriel touched Quentin’s chin and raised it so they were looking into each other’s eyes.

“They’ll be home soon, okay?” Gabriel said to Quentin then looked at Idri, who nodded.

“Our treasures will return to us soon.”

“I know, but they’re both pregnant and…” Quentin started to speak when the double doors opened and Margo and Eliot stepped into the room. The High King and High Queen both looked weary, and the pair were instantly scooped up by their worried spouses.

“Thank Ember!” Quentin said as he hugged Eliot to him. “Are you all right?”

Eliot blinked at the fierce hug, but raised his arms to return it. “We’re okay, Quentin, just feel like I need a long hot shower. The buildings we were in were in a shambles and it’s a miracle they didn’t collapse with us inside of them.”

Gabriel had his arms around Margo, and he saw the folder she carried. “Margo, what’s that?”

“My past.” Margo said softly as she rested her head on Gabriel’s right shoulder.

Idri stood between the two of them and placed a hand on each of their backs. “Your safe return makes my heart soar, my treasures. We were worried about you both.”

“And the Vikings?” Eliot asked as the hug with Quentin ended and he began to take off his clothes.

Gabriel let go of Margo and began to strip. “King Crissimar is in a guest room, and the rest of his men are bunking with the knights. Alex promised to keep a close eye on them.”

“What about the test?” Margo took off her jacket and shirt, then crossed the room and dropped them both in her hamper.

“Not sure really, King Crissimar said it was arriving and he claims it’ll be here by the tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

Margo heard this then went into the bathroom. The moment the door closed, Idri, Gabriel, and Quentin all turned to Eliot.

“What happened?”

“All you found was this one folder?”

Eliot put his hand up. “Yeah all we found was that file. Margo just decided to take the test since we didn’t find anything else.” He striped out of his shirt. “Whatever happens with the Vikings happens, and we’ll deal with it from there.” Eliot said as he went into the bathroom to join Margo in the shower.

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

The next morning dawned cold, and the quietness of Whitespire was interrupted by a lot of noise coming from the Vikings, who were eating breakfast and making themselves comfortable in the castle. King Crissimar was among the men as he sat in Eliot’s chair and ate a hearty porridge. The doors to the dining room opened and Elio and the other male kings entered. Crissimar saw Eliot and he stood up and moved out of the high king’s chair.

“Good morning, King Eliot, King Idri, King Gabriel, and King Quentin.” He gave them a bow, and his men all stood and returned the respectful gesture.

Eliot, dressed in a dark grey silk shirt and black-and-silver streaked pants with a matching jacket, cocked an eyebrow when he saw Crissimar in his chair.

“Good morning.” Eliot’s gaze flicked to his chair, with its purple velvet backing, gold crown, and a carved E at the top. It was clear who the chair belonged to. He wanted to say something, but trying to keep the peace between the two kingdoms was foremost on his mind, so he held his tongue. Gabriel saw the look on Eliot’s face and he leaned in. “Sire, do you wish for me to fetch the Lysol?”

“Do we have some?” Eliot said as he turned to look at him.

“I think we do.” Gabriel said, but then Eliot put his hand up.

“I have another solution.” Eliot reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a folded gold-and- purple embroidered hanky. He went over to his chair, unfolded it, then draped it over the seat.

“Tea, please.” He said to a servant before he sat down gracefully and crossed his legs.

King Crissimar chose another seat and sat down, watching as Eliot was given his tea and he doctored it with cream and sugar.

“The test arrives today, King Eliot. Is the high queen prepared to take it?”

Eliot lifted the delicate tea cup to his lips and had a sip then he cleared his throat.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” He lifted his gaze and pointed with his chin to the doors of the dining room. Margo stood there in a purple-and-gold dress with a matching shawl, the material sparkling in the candlelight. She saw all eyes on her and raised her chin.

“Whatever test you have for me King Crissimar, I will take for both myself and my kingdom. I’ve earned this crown and it is rightfully mine.” All the men in the room stood as Margo entered it, and she walked around the table to where Eliot stood. He held out his hand to her, a small smile of both pride and affection on his face. Margo slid her smaller hand into his, and he raised it to his lips in a kiss before guiding her to her chair beside his.

“You look stunning.” Eliot said to her, and she winked at him.

King Crissimar nodded. “I understand Queen Margo, and I hope for the sake of both our kingdoms this test goes well.”

Margo’s gaze flicked to Crissimar as he spoke, then she looked at Eliot and the way he looked at her spoke volumes. You have our support Bambi, you are the High Queen of Fillory and your spouses and fellow monarchs support you. Margo stared at his handsome face then she suddenly turned to the Viking king.

“You know something? The test doesn’t matter. If you want to negotiate a treaty between our worlds, then fine, we’ll talk all day long. If you don’t want to because I won’t let you bully me into some stupid test which, hello…” She pointed to her head where her crown gleamed in the candlelight. “Percy… who’s queen?”

Margo spoke in a higher voice and both Eliot and Quentin looked at each other. Eliot sighed.

“Blackadder…see? See your influence on the high queen?” He said to Quentin, who only grinned.

“Hey! She’s a woman of taste and sophistication!”

King Crissimar flicked a look and Eliot and Quentin, then it went back to Margo. “So, you will not take the test, Queen Margo?”

Margo’s dark eyes turned fiery and she was about to open her mouth when Eliot squeezed her hand.

“I’ll handle this, sweetie.” Eliot said, then turned to King Crissimar and flicked his hand. Magic burst from his fingertips and the word NO appeared in shimmering gold letters over their head, then burst into a shower of gold glitter and rained down on them all before vanishing.

“As she said, we are welcome to negotiate peace between our worlds.”

Margo leaned over and kissed his cheek, but the air in the room turned tense. King Crissimar’s face bore a deep scowl. He rose to his feet, and his men got up along with him. Before he could speak one word, Alex and the Fillorian knights quickly filed into the room and stood around the monarchs. Alex scowled as he watched King Crissimar and his hand went to his right side, where his thick broadsword was sheathed.

“If you will excuse us, your majesties, my men and I must talk.” King Crissimar said, his spine was straight as a board as they all filed out of the room.

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

King Crissimar returned to the guest room he had been given. Located in the west wing, it was a modest room with grey stone walls that were covered by tapestries that depicted the woods, Whitespire, the village, and of course, the royals. Crissimar was in a heavy brown fur cloak, and he untied it hastily and dropped it on the big bed in the center of the room. The king began to pace, and his big thick boots made a low booming noise in the room.

“How dare she mock our test!” He said to himself, then went to the fireplace and waved his hand. It burst into big flames and he stood there a moment, warming his hands. A knock on the door raised his head and he scowled.

“Telanor, that better be you!” He barked, then turned, strode over to the door, and almost yanked it off its hinges. A small man with thick round glasses and a black fur outfit stood there and he bowed. He had a wooden chest in his hands.

“The test arrived, Sire.” He said, then dared to shift his gaze to the scowling face of the Viking king. Telanor had served Crissimar since he was a teenager, and the small, boney man with a big nose, thick round black framed glasses, and a thin body looked more like a rat on two legs than a human.

“It’s about time!” Crissimar grabbed the chest and yanked at it, which not only gave him the chest, but tugged Telanor into the room. The thick door was kicked shut and Telanor went over to the fire to warm himself.

“Forgiveness, your majesty, but a terrible storm delayed our returning here, and you know magic does not work to cross the Lonely Sea.” He stretched his hands out to the fire and sighed at the warmth.

“Snow has also begun to fall, which also made the crossing treacherous.”

“Yes, yes, I know there were delays.” Crissimar went over to the table and chairs set in the corner of the room and set the chest down. He folded his hands palm to palm, then opened them over the chest and whispered a spell. The metal on the box began to glow, and the chest promptly popped open.

“Yes….” King Crissimar said as he reached into the glowing chest and pulled out a dagger of pure gold and held it up. “Such a beauty you are.” He whispered as his gaze traveled along its long smooth glinting surface.

Telanor watched how Crissimar admired the knife. “What is your plan, Sire?”

“Oh…” He said with a smile. “The high queen and I have a date.”

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

The Vikings were quiet the rest of the day, but for the most part, they had accepted Margo’s decision about foregoing the test. Finally, around supper time, the tension in the castle settled down, and the monarchs and Vikings were able to enjoy a nice dinner of brazed beef, roasted potatoes, steamed veggies, and plenty of wine. King Crissimar seemed the most cooperative and festive, but the knights were posted around the castle to ensure everything was calm and peaceful. Despite the fact things with King Crissmar seemed settled, the trip to New York, and the tension of everything left Margo feeling a little worn out. Outside, the weather had turned for the worst, and snow began to fall. After standing at the dining room windows and watching her kingdom turn white, Margo went over to Eliot.

“Sweetie, I hope you don’t mind, but I need a hot bath and some tea.” She said as she took his hand. He squeezed it and tugged her closer so he could whisper in her ear.

“Proud of you, bitch.” Eliot whispered in her ear, then kissed her cheek.

“Thanks, Sweetie.” Margo said, kissing him back as she moved away and casually slipped out of the room. Telanor’s beady little eyes watched as Margo left, and he skittered over to his master then practically slithered to his side.

“Queen Margo has left.” He said to Crissimar, who was enjoying a gold goblet full of ale.

“Good eyes. I didn’t even see her leave.”

“I have watched her the whole time, My Lord.” Telanor said with a hint of desire for Margo in his black eyes.

“Of course you have, she’s a beautiful woman.” Crissimar downed the rest of his ale then casually set the goblet down. He gave a nod to his men as he made his way to the door. The number of men in the room made it hard to keep an eye on everyone, but not only did Alex and his knights keep watch, but there were powerful wards in the castle that acted like intruder alarms. Eliot sat on his throne watching, sipping from goblet of honey wine. Alex made his way over to him and leaned over.

“Sire, do you think Crissimar is up to something?”

The high king cleared his throat and nodded. “I’m certain of it, but the wards are tightened. He won’t be able to do much without us knowing.” Alex turned to look at him.

“The alarm wards?” He asked, and Eliot gave a small smile.

“I’m both beauty and brains combined, Sir Knight.”

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

Margo entered the royal bed chamber and took off her crown. She put it on one of the purple pillows Eliot kept for all their crowns, and she took a moment to rub at her lower back.

“Ohhh baby, you are hard on Mama’s back.” Margo closed her eyes and bent backwards a little to stretch, then unzipped her black dress. She wore a dress Gabriel had made for her, black with interwoven gold thread that glinted in the light. Gabriel created a long skirt too, and she also unzipped that and let it puddle at her feet. Now clad in just a bra and panties, Margo sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to open her nightstand. She took out the tarnished lock box and held it in her hands, turning it over.

“My stint as Nancy Drew didn’t go over so well.” She sighed, then set the box on the edge of the nightstand.

Outside the door, Crissimar took the gold dagger out of a sheath on his belt and held it in his hand. He closed his eyes.

“O great Thor, God over all, guide me and help me do what is best for my people.” The dagger began to glow, and as it brightened, the wards that showed up as glowing gold lines all around the castle began to flash and vanish. Crissimar began to change too, and after a moment, both he and the dagger turned invisible. With a wave of the dagger, the bed chamber doors blew open, and Margo was on her feet fast to see why. She took a few steps toward the doors, but then they closed on their own.

“The fuck?” Margo said, and then the air began to shimmer as she backed away. Crissimar stepped closer to her, and he smiled as he saw her in her bra and panties.

What a shame…. He thought to himself as he held the dagger tight in both his hands then jutted it straight into Margo’s chest. She felt the air shift and had put her hands up in a battle magic pose, but it did little to prevent the attack. The blade ended up between her breasts, and she barely had time to utter a syllable before a spray of blood erupted out of the wound. Margo’s face, the bed, the floor, and the nightstand were spattered with blood. She saw Crissimar, slowly dropped to her knees, then fell over.

A ripple went through the castle, and it stopped everyone cold. Eliot stood up then looked at Alex, the color draining from his face. He began breathing hard.

“Margo…” He said turned to see the three other male monarchs felt it too. Quentin, Idri, Gabriel, Eliot, Alex, all ran from the room.

“Secure the Vikings!” Alex’s voice carried back into the room, and the knights all drew their swords and surrounded the Vikings.

Eliot burst through the double doors and saw the carnage that lay within. His eyes were huge as he walked around the bed and saw Margo laying on the floor.

“Bambi…” He said as his eyes grew bright, then his amber eyes flashed. The rest of the men came in behind him, but the doors quickly slammed. The air around Eliot began to crackle, and he slowly raised his head.

“I know you’re here.” Eliot spoke calmly, then raised his hands up to his eyes in the formed square, and threw his arms out. Crissimar appeared in the corner, and Eliot raises his head to see the Viking king. The anger in Eliot’s face had turned it red, and around him, the air was sizzling, with a small flame that was traveling around him like a glowing moth.

“Crissimar!” Idri, Gabriel, and Quentin all charged him, but Eliot’s power had created a power shield that actually protected him.

Alex pulled his sword from the sheath and held it straight out.

“Sire, may I dispatch him?” The blond knight said, his mouth tightened in a sneer.

“Back off, Sir Alex. If anyone will get justice for Margo, it’ll be those that called her wife.” Eliot could barely get the words out, and he raised his hands. Alex lowered his sword, but he kept it in his hand.

Crissimar did not flinch or back off. He straightened his spine and raised his chin.

“Whether you understand or not, I did what I did for my people.”

Eliot opened his mouth to say something when a small bang got his attention. He turned and saw Margo’s tarnished box shift on the nightstand.

Quentin wiped his eyes and turned too to see the box move again.

“What is that?” He asked Gabriel and Idri.

“Margo’s box.” Gabriel said, and Idri took a step toward it when it fell off the nightstand and landed in the puddle of blood around Margo. A beam of light emerged from the keyhole, and it widened and scanned Margo like a giant computer. The lock clicked: the lid popped open and slid to one side. A bright light came out of the box, and a woman who looked exactly like Margo emerged. The woman wore a gold gown, and it seemed to glow. Eliot went over to her; he thought for the briefest of moment that it was the ghost of Margo, but she had light-colored eyes and the shape of her lips was different.

“Are you…?” Eliot asked, and she smiled.

“You know who I am, but you don’t at the same time.” She said, then touched the crown on her head.

“But first . . .” The woman crouched down and pulled the dagger out of Margo’s chest. She set it down and placed her hand over the gash. The wound began to glow, then it slowly sealed up, and Margo stirred.

“Oh Ember, she’s alive.” Eliot said, then touched his belly as he watched Margo sit up and touch between her breasts. The wound from the dagger was gone, and the only hint it was there was the blood stains on her bra. She raised her head to see the woman, and a flash from the past came back to her. The face was familiar, and it made her heart start to beat hard as tears began to fill her eyes.

“You’re my-”

“Mother.” Elizabeth Hanson said, then helped her daughter to her feet. The two women stared at each other, and for a moment, Margo thought she was hallucinating from her recent death. Elizabeth smiled as she placed a hand on Margo’s cheek.

“You grew up to be so beautiful.” She said softly as her eyes grew bright. Margo looked up at the crown on her head.

“I… I don’t understand.” She said, her voice thick with emotion, then she saw the opened gold box. “What happened?”

“Let’s deal with one thing at a time.” Elizabeth said, then both mother and daughter turned to Crissimar; the Viking king’s mouth formed a perfect circle.

“Oh, Thor!” He said as he dropped to his knees.

“I did it for my people, I only want to do what is best for them!”

“By putting a dagger between my tits?” Margo snapped, and Elizabeth gently patted her hand.

“The Norse gods demand purity of blood to keep magic strong in our land!”

“And that’s exactly what you tried to destroy!” Elizabeth shouted, then she waved her hand and the Viking king rose to his feet. She walked over to where Crissimar floated and threw him against the wall with her power.

“Do you see this crown on my head? Do you know where I got it?”

Margo watched the scene unfold and went over to Eliot, who hugged her hard, blood covered or not.

“Margo…” He said then the other kings came over and each one grabbed Margo, and hugged her so hard that she nearly fell over.

Elizabeth paused a moment to watch Margo reunite with her spouses, and the love she saw between them all only fueled her anger.

“Do you see what you almost did? Denied my daughter her life, and her child as well?” She watched as Idri dropped to his knees and kissed her small belly; there were tears rolling down his face. Margo gave him a watery smile as she stroked her hand along his head. Elizabeth waved her hand again, and the opened tarnished gold box floated in the air. She closed her eyes and it began to glow, then a small gold light came out of the box. The firefly-like light rose in the air, then it flashed, and the image of a man in pure black appeared, and he, too, wore a crown on his head. He was light skinned, with thick black curly hair and sharp dark eyes, and he looked like a distant relative of their servant, Tick, only with lighter skin color and a longer, thinner frame.

“Peter…” Elizabeth said then held her hand out to him. He smiled, and when he did, Eliot blinked because he suddenly realized who this man was. He went and got a black silk robe for Margo out of their closet and put it around her. Margo once again wore a stunned expression on her face as she watched her parents.

Crissimar struggled against the power that held him to the wall. He looked down to see the dagger on the floor and he closed his eyes, trying to get it to him. The dagger slowly rose in the air and began to float toward him. Peter caught it in midair and held it up, then took the outstretched hand of his wife.

“This is the dagger you used on my child?” Peter asked in a deep booming voice that made the Viking king flinch.

“Blood purity is important to my people.” Crissimar squeaked out, and Peter shook his head before lifting his gaze to see Margo.

“Jasmina.” He said, and Elizabeth sighed.

“They named her Margo. The earthlings.” Elizabeth said, and he held his hand out to his daughter.

“I know you have questions.”

Margo wrapped the robe around herself, trying to stop the shivering she suddenly felt that had nothing to do with her death or the cold. She looked up at Eliot, her dark eyes questioning, and he smiled as he smoothed her loose hair from around her face.

“You wanted answers, Margo. I think you’re about to get them.” Eliot said softly, then kissed her forehead.

Margo went over to her parents, and Peter took her hand and looked her over.

“The last time we were all together like this--” Peter started to say, then his dark eyes grew bright.

“We were attacked.” He sighed, then looked at Elizabeth.

“Your mother is from earth, but I am not.” Peter turned to look at Idri. “He took over for me when I disappeared.”

“Idri.” Margo said then the former Lorian king’s eyes grew wide. “Shalimar?”

Quentin gasped beside him, and all eyes turned to him.

“I read about this!” Quentin said as he went over to the bookshelf in the room, and pulled out on of his Fillory books.

“King Shalimar ruled Loria, but then one day he vanished.” Quentin tucked a hair behind his ear as he hastily flipped through the book. He stopped when he saw a picture and turned the book around to show the picture of the dark-haired man wearing the same crown.

“See? According to the book, Shalimar just vanished and Idri was appointed king.”

“Not vanished… was killed when he and his earth wife tried to establish a life there. The Pennon saw to that.” Peter touched Margo’s cheek. “You were so young, and they had attacked several times before, but this night they were prepared. We fought them as best we could, but in the end we were killed, and they carted our bodies away.”

Margo’s eyes widened as she remembered what was in her file. “I was found alone, and covered with blood, but there was no trace of either of you.”

“The Lorians returned to earth to find the princess, but you were gone too.”

“Taken to some filthy, disgusting orphanage where I stayed for 12 years before running away.” Margo scowled, but then it faded and she took her father and mother by the hand.

“I was so angry for a long time because I knew nothing of either of you. I had to go out and find my own family.” Margo turned to see Eliot, Idri, Quentin, and Gabriel and she smiled at them.

“If not for what happened, I wouldn’t have any of them, my kingdom, or my baby on the way. I wouldn’t change any of that.”

“Princess Jasmina.” Quentin said with a smile as he closed the book and pressed it to his chest.

Margo straightened her spine, then looked over at Crissimar. “So, what do we do about the Vikings and their assassination attempt on the Princess of Loria and the High Queen of Fillory?” She turned to look at Eliot. “Do we play the Red Queen card?”

“Sweetie, that’s so cliché.” Eliot went over to her and slipped an arm around her.

“And what would we do with a severed head anyway? Turn it into a table lamp?” Eliot then looked at Crissimar. “Though I should, considering what you did.”

“Would that really be best for your two kingdoms?” Peter put his arm around Elizabeth and kissed her gently before he touched his forehead to hers. Elizabeth closed her eyes as she nuzzled the side of her husband’s face.

“We created the gold box as a way to tell you the truth, if the worst should happen.”

“And it did.” Peter said softly. “But, I praise the god for you surviving, and I see the love your spouses have for you.”

Elizabeth lowered Crissimar to the floor with her power. The Viking king took a moment to adjust his clothing, then his gaze turned to Margo.

“I asked for your lineage because the Norse gods demand the best for the people.” Crissimar then slowly sunk to his knees. “I attacked you, Queen Margo and I was wrong. I’ll do what I must for my kingdom, even if it means surrendering my life for what I’ve done.”

Quentin, Gabriel, and Idri all went to surround Margo and Eliot. The high king and high queen looked at one another.

“Normally, anyone that did what you did, I’d be wearing your balls as accessories.” Margo moved away from her group of spouses and stood over Crissimar. She saw that Peter had the gold dagger, and she took it from him and looked it over.

“Its beautiful.” Margo looked down to see the dried blood that was still on her chest.

“And sharp.” She sighed. “Crissimar, I’m a queen and I get that the people come first.” Margo reached out and touched his chin then raised it so they were eye to eye.

“My people mean everything to me, to us.” She corrected herself. “You came here to make peace with Fillory so both our kingdoms could prosper. I think despite what happened, we need to talk about that.” The tension in the air lightened considerably; Alex still had his sword out and he put it back in its sheathe. Eliot too breathed out a sigh of relief.

“High Queen Bambi is wise.” Eliot went to his wife.

“Rise, King Crissimar.” He took the gold dagger, flipped it in his hand, and offered the handle to the Viking king.

“Sheathe your dagger. We have a lot to discuss.”

King Crissimar stood up, took the dagger, then bowed to Eliot and Margo.

“I think we do, your majesties.”

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

The talks between King Crissimar and the monarchy of Fillory lasted all day and into the night. There were breaks in between, but by suppertime, things were winding down. A supper was prepared for the royal family and the guests. The meal consisted of fine venison steaks, roasted potatoes, roasted vegetables, rice, mashed potatoes, fresh baked rolls, and plenty of wine. Margo finished her meal and excused herself. The tales of the high queen’s resurrection spread through the castle, and the voices of earlier gossip were now whispers of awe as she walked down the hall. Finally, she opened the double doors to the royal bed chamber and went inside.

Margo removed her crown, set it on the nightstand, and disappeared into the closet. She emerged a short time later with her pink plushie robe over a long pair of fuzzy matching pink pajamas with flamingoes on them. The bedroom had a window box, which featured a built- in seat, and Margo frequently liked to sit there and look out at the amazing view. Before taking her customary seat at the window, Margo opened her nightstand and pulled out the tarnished gold box. She went back to the window, sat down on the built-in cushion, and began to turn the box over in her hands.

The snow had returned, and she watched as the fat white flakes began to cover the already-frozen ground. Margo took in a deep breath, then sighed it out as she replayed what had happened in her mind.

“Penny for your thoughts?” The voice of Eliot interrupted her thoughts, and she whipped her head to see him coming into the double doors.

“I’ve already died once today, don’t need a sequel.” Margo set the box down on her lap.

“Thought you were busy entertaining?”

Eliot slipped into the closet, and he came out wearing a black silk robe with a gold embroidered dragon on the back of it. The hanging open robe revealed black flannel lounge pants that also had big gold dragons on it, and he tied his robe closed. Eliot sat across from Margo in the window box and held out his arms to her.

Margo quickly crawled over to Eliot and into his lap. She held the gold box in her hands as she adjusted the way she sat. Sitting side saddle on Eliot’s long legs, Margo leaned her head on his left shoulder.

“Here…” Eliot said as he took the box from her hands and looked at it.

“You finally know the truth Sweetie, but if you don’t mind, there’s a few things I want to ask about.”

“I figured you would.” Margo said softly. “Go ahead. Before they went away, my parents and I had a really long talk, and they told me everything.”

“How did they even meet?” Eliot asked as he stroked a hand over Margo’s loose hair.

“Open the box.” She said as she raised her head. Eliot took the box and slide the lock open. He ran his finger over the keyhole and the seam of the box popped open. Inside the gold box, Eliot saw a small glowing old-fashioned brass key.

“A key? To what?”

“To Earth, apparently.” Margo picked the key up and looked at it. “Doesn’t seem like much does it?”

“Not really.” Eliot looked into the box and shook it a little to see if anything else came out of it.

“Take the key, put it in a lock, and turn the key toward the left.” Margo said then handed him the key.

“All right.” Eliot stared at Margo and she slowly rose off of his lap.

“Hey!” Margo laughed as she hovered in midair. Eliot got up then she slowly sank back down to the cushion.

Eliot took the key and went over to the bathroom door. He stuck it in the lock and gave it a twist to the left. The wooden bathroom door shimmered, and dissolved away to reveal flashing neon light. Eliot creased his brow as he stepped closer.

“The fuck?” He then stuck his head into the open door and looked around. He craned his neck around the edge and saw the flashing Coca-Cola sign located in Times Square.

“Holy shit!” Eliot pulled back then tugged the key out. The flashing neon light faded and returned to the master bathroom.

“This is a key to New York City.”

“New York City is the key. It’s the place they met, fell in love, and had me. Mom was a student at NYU working at some hipster coffeehouse and Dad went there whenever he came to Earth. She noticed him, and would slip him free coffee, and the next thing you know…”

“Romeo and Juliet over latte?” Eliot sat back down in the window box, then pouted.

“And now I want a latte.”

Margo once again climbed into Eliot’s lap. She took the box from him and set it aside, then wrapped her arms around his neck.

“What is it, Bambi?” He stroked a big hand over her hair as she frowned. Margo closed her eyes as Eliot touched her, the touch soothing her a little.

“Just feel like things are unsettled. I got some answers, but still have some lingering questions.”

“You’re a princess of Loria, and the high queen of Fillory. You live here, but maybe what you need to do is go see Loria, which is technically your kingdom too.”

“A trip to Loria.” Margo sighed. “Idri is here now, Ess has taken over, and what do I tell him about the fact my father was the king?”

“The truth above all else.” Eliot said plainly, a serious expression on his face.

“All the time we’ve been here, we’ve never stepped foot in Loria.” Margo sighed, then reached up to take Eliot’s hand and laced her fingers between his. He knew her so well that he could tell she had a lot of lingering doubts.

“You found out a lot these past few days, Margo. You need to give yourself some time to sort things out.” Eliot touched her chin and raised it so he could see her eyes.

“Figure out some things, and then we can go to Loria, or even back to New York if you need to, okay?”

“How Princess Jasmina got her groove back?” Margo gave a small smile, which made Eliot smile too.

“You never lost it, Jasmina, which is a very beautiful and fitting name for you.”

A knock rang out on the double doors, they opened and Quentin poked his head in. The young king wore a tarnished silver helmet with two giant white horns on it. The horns were outlined with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds, and both Eliot and Margo looked at each other.

“Hey check it out!” Quentin strutted into the room, then spun and put his hands on his hips in a super hero style pose. With the hunter green pants, and shirt, he looked like the grownup version of Peter Pan.

“Bambi…” Eliot blinked. “I think we need to change his name from Quentin the Maladjusted to Quentin the-”

“Horny?” Margo finished as she got up and went over to him. “All right, show me the size of your sword.” She poked his waist, and Quentin laughed as he tugged her into a hug.

“Maybe later.” Quentin kissed her hair. “So glad you’re okay.” He said softly.

“Me too.” Margo pulled back and kissed him.

“King Crissimar wants you both to come back out.” Quentin still had his arms around Margo.

“All right, duty calls.” Eliot said as he stood up and went into the closet to change.

“Coming.” Margo let go of Quentin and followed him.

From outside the closed doors, a burst of cheers rang out that echoed throughout the whole castle. Quentin turned at the noise then smiled.

“Okay, okay, we’re coming!” Eliot came out in his grey paisley shirt and pants, then slipped his jacket on. Margo was in a gold and black dress and slipped a gold coat over it, which had a long train behind her.

“Royalty, bitches!” Quentin took their hands and tugged them out into the hall. Eliot waved the doors closed with one flick of his wrist.

Margo smiled and squeezed the hands of her husband’s. She held her head high and smiled.

“Royalty, bitch, and I got the pedigree to prove it.” Margo said as she marched down the hall toward the dining room.

END.

#TheTrials #2017 Welters Challenge #TheMagicians

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