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oliviajdjarin · 1 year

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Joel Miller: Why Can't I Breathe?

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt:

"You were a woman--a woman with a body, feelings, heart, and intellect way beyond his caliber. You were fiercely loyal to him, almost to a fault, never hesitating to stick both your neck and trusted knife out for him, but at the same time, you were kind. You had been so good to him, too good to him, and all the while looking like that.

As you ducked under the water once again, fully scrubbing your body of grime, he realized that you were nothing less than a belle, a seductress, a venus flytrap set just for him to fly into and crush into a million pieces, and he wanted it. He wanted you.

You were so goddamn beautiful, and you had been his this whole time, he was just too dumb and slow to realize it."

Warnings: minor finale spoilers, Joel gets harddd, bathing, references to nudity, guns, Ellie makes a cameo, descriptions of alcoholism, blood, knives, and Joel doesn't know what a feeling is.

A/N: Happy end of The Last of Us! Who can't wait for Season Two!? *salutes before falling backwards off bridge.* But seriously, thank you for all the love on Joel. I can't explain how much it means to me.

If you'd like to leave a like, ask, comment, or reblog, it would be very appreciated <3

Word Count: 1.5k

Pedro Masterlist

(gif credit to owner I cannot find your account for the life of me).

The first thing that hit the forest floor was your boots, bouncing off the swollen grass loud enough for him to hear. The next thing was your socks, based off of the slight grunt you gave when one got caught. Next was your jeans, indicated by the metal pull on the zipper of your crotch clanking down swiftly. You then paused with a huff.

"Are you sure about this?" you said from behind him.

He sighed. "Yes, for fuck's sake. You were just sayin' how badly you wanted a bath."

"Yeah but--" you sighed, frustrated. "What if somebody--or, something--comes along?"

He raised his riffle over his head in reply before settling it back in his lap, his fingers curved firmly around it, screaming try me. He was sitting on a rock, yes, but he was ready. His body always seemed to settle when he guarded you anyway. He tried not to think about that.

"You know what I mean, Joel," you replied. "My hearin' ain't what it used to be."

He hated the smirk that always managed to wriggle its way onto his face when you mocked the depth of his voice and the thickness of his accent, but in reality, it had been the first time he had smiled in a while. All he could do was shake his head in reply, his typical indicator of you win this round.

You sighed again, the running water of the stream behind you filling the air, before saying, "I'm just worried about her."

It didn't take a genius to figure out that the girl curled up in the cave ten feet away from him was the "her" you were referring to. She had been different, distant, quiet. Adjectives that had never suited her before, but after whatever the hell went down after Joel woke up, they all seemed to describe her perfectly. Her chest rose up and down in an even rhythm, indicating to Joel that she was long gone, but he understood you nonetheless.

"I know," he said in reply, a drop of unease in his voice, "but I've got her."

You took a deep breath, inhaling through your nose and out your mouth, before the scratch of cloth a shirt makes when it's removed filled his ears instead. "I'll be quick. Get me if she needs me."

"I will," he responded, "but take your time. Please."

He knew why he was delaying bringing her to the Fireflies, and he knew that you knew why he was delaying bringing her to the Fireflies, but like many things between the two of you, it remained unspoken.

"Alright," you said, and dropped two more pieces of cloth onto your pile before stepping away, down into the stream. Joel had never seen one quite like it. All the water flowed from a great waterfall at the end, the perfect place to rinse off after miles of hiking in a humid forest, and Joel saw in your eye how badly you wanted to wash it all away. He stopped the three of you and proposed an early dinner--rabbit, water, and chef boyardee--and Ellie passed out soon after, leaving Joel here, keeping watch for the both of you.

He would never admit how much he likes it--watching you both, keeping you safe, protecting his girls. It was something primal, but also something broken, desperate to be glued back together again.

You could recognize that in him, that need, but you weren't much different from him. Twenty years in an apocalypse, constantly watching your six, always on edge. You two were one in the same in that regard, so when your need for control would bubble up to your irises, he would gladly take the night to rest.

Unspoken, yet so not.

He didn't know when the two of you got so good at it, reading each other. Maybe it was back in Boston, the night you two made your first job together, or the night he blacked out from too much booze, only to find himself in bed under a blanket the next morning. He still didn't know how you managed that one. Maybe it was when he got cut clean through the knee, or when you got one through the shoulder, or when he finally explained what the scar on his face was from, or who the scar on his heart was from, or--

Suddenly, the whoosh of a large splash hit his ear, along with the gurgle of air bubbles, and modesty be damned, he turned around. His riffle was immediately pointed down at the water, ready to fire at will, or he would dive the hell down there.

Except, what exited the water was no infected, no raider, no hunter, and no slaver. No, it was you. Hair flattened by the stream, back dripping with droplets of water, tracing the line your spine made down your back. Your head tilted back in relief, free from the prison of sweat and heat, and your shoulders flexed downward, highlighting that fucking line down your back once again. The setting sun illuminated you, basking you in an aura of orange, as you walked underneath the waterfall. The water soaked through your hair and down your body, causing you to lift up your arms to work your hair away from your face and massage your jaw with your nails. Your waist was that much more accentuated, your throat was revealed just so, and the outline of your breasts taunted him against the stone of the stream.

He could feel his eyes dilate, his jaw go slightly slack, his gun practically slip through his fingers, and buttons on the crotch of his jeans pull slightly tauter than they were a few seconds ago.

He couldn't feel his face, he couldn't hear the water flowing, and he couldn't fucking breathe.

Why can't I breathe?

You had always been a looker, he had no doubt about that--constantly getting looks from men on the streets, offered drinks at bars, and invitations for more than that--but he never viewed you that way.

At least, that's what he told himself when he woke up from dreams about you, covered in sweat.

He liked to think that he admired you, respected you. He knew how little of that you got in Boston, and in his own fucked up ways, he tried to show you that you deserved to be. You were more than just tits and eyes, you were capable, honorable, and a fucking badass when you wanted to be. You went through with a hell of a lot more jobs than he did, coming home with stacks of ration cards higher than the expanse of his hands, only to bring them home to his sorry ass. You could make a clean kill, barely batting an eye, and mere seconds later, help Ellie to her feet, and tell her she was okay. You were beautiful, yes, but he thought he saw that more as admiration, respect, and caring for the woman who had always stuck by his side.

But it was more than that. It had always been more than that.

You were a woman--a woman with a body, feelings, heart, and intellect way beyond his caliber. You were fiercely loyal to him, almost to a fault, never hesitating to stick both your neck and trusted knife out for him, but at the same time, you were kind. You had been so good to him, too good to him, and all the while looking like that.

You were so goddamn beautiful, and you had been his this whole time, he was just too dumb and slow to realize it.

The smirk that had formed from earlier had slowly become a smile as he let his eyes slide up and down your body, filled to the brim with emotion and longing, and just as he felt a tear begin to dribble down his cheek at the sight of the woman before him, you turned around, and Joel's stomach instantly fell out of his ass.

He turned on his heel faster than he ever had in his life, wiping at his eye and sniffling, and standing straighter than a soldier.

Of course, you noticed.

"Everything alright?" you shouted from the water below, and with as much dignity as he could muster, Joel responded with a cracked, "yep."

Nothing was, yet everything was.

"I'm almost done," you responded, ducking under the water. You let your mask crack underneath the waves--the smile on your face, the squeal of excitement, and the happiness in your heart.

He was looking at you.

Once again, your mutual understanding remained unspoken, only this time, you had a feeling it wouldn't be for long.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @untitledarea @avengersfan25 @lexloon @aninnai @darling-murdock

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coryoskywalker · 5 months

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was it over? (Young! Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

Description: was their relationship really over?

Warnings!! Coriolanus being a manipulative bitch. He’s also obsessed with y/n but he won’t admit it obviously *insert eye roll* :)

Also I didn’t proofread this…like…at all…

"I know it's difficult, y/n." Coriolanus stated solemnly, a heavy weight settling in his stomach at the thought of what he was about to say.

They had been sitting together quietly in the meadow, the gentle buzz of insects filling the air as the light of the afternoon bathed the forest in a warm, golden glow. The atmosphere was calm and serene, making it all the more jarring for Coriolanus to bring up such a delicate subject.

"What's difficult?" y/n inquired curiously, turning to face him. Her tone was light, but her smile was tinged with concern.

"Us." Coriolanus replied simply, the one word hanging heavy in the air between them. The tension rose as y/n remained silent, her gaze shifting away as she struggled to find the right words.

"What do you mean?" y/n finally asked softly, her heart already knowing the answer. Her voice had grown hoarse as she tried desperately not to show the hurt she was feeling.

At first, Coriolanus's expression remained unchanged, but as y/n watched more closely, she saw a slight downturn of his lips, the smallest of sighs escaping his lips.

"We're not working out." Coriolanus finally spoke, the words tearing the silence in twain like a knife. Y/n's heart shattered at the sound of them, her breath catching in her throat as a wave of disbelief washed over her. Could this really be happening? Did her relationship with Coriolanus mean so little to him that he was willing to throw it away like this?

"What do you mean, we're not working out?!" y/n finally exclaimed, her voice breaking as her emotions ran high.

"I need to be honest with you, y/n." Coriolanus began, his voice as steady as the ground beneath her feet. Y/n felt her heart sink as she looked up at him, already knowing what he was about to say, yet praying for a miracle.

"There's someone else." Coriolanus continued, an expression of guilt and sadness crossing his face. Y/n wanted to sink into the earth, the pain she felt at those words threatening to break her.

Y/n wanted to argue with him, to convince him that she could be everything he needed and more. But as she stared at the grief and uncertainty in his eyes, she knew that he wouldn't be swayed.

"Please, Coriolanus..." y/n whispered, the words catching in her throat as her eyes welled with tears. "I'm sorry for not being enough for you. I tried so hard to be the girl you needed. How long have you been hiding this from me?" Her voice was desperate, her heart torn at the thought of losing him.

"For a while," Coriolanus admitted quietly, his voice so low that y/n barely heard him. "But you kept trying so hard, and I liked the attention you gave me. But then one day, I met someone else. And they changed the way I saw you."

Y/n couldn't help but feel her heart break as she took in Coriolanus's confession. She'd always known that he would get bored of her eventually, but the reality was different than the fantasy she'd created. Her cheeks felt hot with shame as tears began to fall.

Coriolanus looked up at her with a look of pity, a silent apology on his expression as he placed his hand gently on her knee.

"I'm sorry, y/n." He whispered, unable to hide his own disappointment in himself. "I should have told you sooner. But I still care for you...just not in the same way."

Y/n's stomach twisted as she heard the truth spill out of his mouth. She wanted to protest, to beg Coriolanus to reconsider, but the truth was there between their words, making her feel as small as an insect.

"We can still be friends." Coriolanus offered weakly, his body tense as the weight of their conversation settled across his shoulders.

To y/n, the suggestion of friendship was more painful than the reality of their break-up. It was worse to know that the love she felt for him now meant nothing to him. The thought of seeing him with another girl was unbearable.

"I can't." She whispered softly, her voice breaking slightly as her face flooded with pain. "I can never see you the same way."

Coriolanus slowly nodded, his expression sad but understanding.

"But...but I love you." y/n breathed, her breath catching in her throat as tears began to fall. This couldn't be real. She was having a nightmare, and she was about to wake up any second now. She had to be, because the thought of her life without Coriolanus was unimaginable.

"I'm sorry." He murmured quietly, running his fingers through his hair as if to clear his mind. His eyes were downcast, avoiding hers. "But I can't love you the way you want me to."

Coriolanus slowly stood to his feet, still unable to meet y/n's gaze. His footsteps were heavy as he walked away from her, the sound of his sandals sinking into the soft grass.

Y/n watched him leave, unable to react, her thoughts consumed with a hollow sadness that left her feeling hollow inside. She wanted to beg him to stay, to reassure her that he was making a mistake, but no words would leave her mouth. She could only sit in stunned silence as her heart shattered into a million pieces.

As Coriolanus disappeared into the distance, y/n was left alone with her pain, the sounds of her weeping drowned out by the birdsong and rustle of leaves. The sunlight filtering through the trees was no longer pleasant, but rather felt like a spotlight on her misery.

The sun began to set, and y/n realized she had been sitting in the meadow for hours, numb to everything around her like a zombie without a soul. It was only as darkness began to settle that she slowly forced her legs to move, to walk away from the place where her heart broke forever.

——————————————————————————-

Y/n sat in front of the television, trying to distract herself with the news broadcast. For months, she had been unable to get Coriolanus Snow out of her mind, and now seeing him on television every day was like a cruel reminder of the hole that had been left in her heart.

"Breaking news..." The newscaster began, her voice puncturing the silence of the living room. y/n felt her heart start to pound as she knew the next sentence would confirm all of her suspicions. "President Coriolanus Snow...reportedly engaged to-"

"...to the daughter of Panem political figure-" The newscaster's voice continued, but y/n couldn't listen any longer. She couldn't care less about the political landscape of the country or what family Coriolanus was marrying into. She knew it was pointless to continue pining after Coriolanus, but seeing the evidence of his imminent marriage was like stabbing her heart all over again.

Tears sprang to y/n's eyes, but she was unaware of her own sobs. All she could focus on was the pain of the breakup, the hurt of seeing Coriolanus move on without her.

Y/n tried to push away the emotions welling within her as the words flashed on the TV screen: "Wedding date confirmed." Her hand rose to her heart as if to clutch something inside of her that was slipping away. What had she done to deserve such heartbreak? She had loved Coriolanus since they met, and yet he had never been hers.

She wanted to be angry, to blame him for leading her on and making her think they could be together, but she could never hate him. Instead, y/n was left with only sadness, her heart broken beyond repair.

Y/n looked up as loud knocking sounded at her front door. She tried to ignore it, to pretend that she didn't hear it and continue with her day, but the banging became louder, more persistent, refusing to let her sit in her grief.

Eventually, she forced herself to her feet and crossed the room to answer the door, wondering who would be coming by at this time of night. She froze as she saw Coriolanus Snow standing on her doorstep, his expression solemn and his eyes set with determination.

Y/n felt her head spin as she opened the door. Coriolanus stood there, his face pale and his eyes pleading with her. What did he want from her now? She had already experienced too much pain at his hands, and wasn't eager to endure this again.

"I never stopped loving you." He whispered, his voice quivering as he forced the words out. "Please, y/n...I know I should've said something sooner, but I couldn't keep living a lie. I don't want anyone else. I only want you."

Y/n couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was it really possible that Coriolanus hadn't fallen out of love with her? Surely he couldn't give her hope only to take it back again.

"I don't believe you." She whispered, her eyes searching his as if to uncover his true intentions.

"I mean it." Coriolanus insisted, taking a step towards her. "I've never stopped loving you, y/n. I've never wanted anyone else." His words were like music to her ears, but she still couldn't be sure if she could trust them.

"Then how could you let me believe you were marrying someone else?" Y/n inquired softly, her eyes filling with tears. "How could you make me feel so...so abandoned."

Coriolanus looked away, unable to meet her eye. "I know it was wrong, y/n...but I couldn't bear to see the pain on your face when I told you." She couldn't understand his reasoning, but when he reached out for her hand and pulled her into an embrace, y/n didn't even try to resist.

Coriolanus wrapped his arms around y/n, holding her against his chest as she melted into his embrace. In that moment, she felt safe and wanted, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she belonged.

"I'm sorry..." Coriolanus whispered into her ear. "I know I hurt you, but I'll make it up to you, I swear."

She didn't know how long they stayed in that embrace, but eventually, reality crept back in and y/n pulled away from him. "What about your wedding?" She whispered, her gaze falling to his hand.

Coriolanus looked at her hand, then back to y/n. "I canceled it." He confirmed with a small smile. "I don't need anything else, just you."

Y/n's eyes flickered with surprise, followed by relief. Was it really that simple? Was Coriolanus saying all of the right things, only to abandon her again?

"Is that why you're here? You don't want to get married anymore?" She asked, wanting to be sure that she understood him clearly before she let her heart believe him.

Coriolanus sighed as he studied her face, his expression turning cunning and calculating. "Y/n," he began slowly, "you and I both know that our love isn't meant to be. I know you want one thing, but I want something else."

"I want you to love me unconditionally," Coriolanus continued, a strange glint in his eye. "To love me above all others, and to always put my needs above yours. No questions asked." Coriolanus sighed as he studied her face, his expression turning cunning and calculating.

Y/n froze, her mind racing. What did Coriolanus mean by that? Did he not love her after all?

"But...but that's not how love works." Y/n replied weakly, her voice cracking under the weight of Coriolanus's words. He stepped closer to her, until their faces were only inches apart. His eyes remained focused on her, their intensity making her feel like she was under his spell.

"You're wrong." He whispered. "A true love gives everything, without question. Only then can one call themselves lovers." Y/n felt her heart flutter as Coriolanus spoke, his voice making her toes tingle and her stomach feel hollow.

Y/n couldn't say anything, her body too consumed by Coriolanus's words and the spell that he was weaving. She wanted to say no, to resist him, but all she could manage to do was silently stare at him, a flush of heat rising across her cheeks.

"Don't you love me?" Coriolanus whispered, his voice dripping with seduction and intrigue as he tilted his head to the side curiously.

"Yes..." She breathed quietly, the word coming out almost as a whisper, her heart fluttering in her chest.

"You belong to me." Coriolanus murmured, his eyes never straying from hers. Y/n felt her breath catch in her throat as his words sunk in, and she felt herself fall into him.

She loved him, she belonged to him, and there was nothing that could change that. Nothing mattered in that moment except Coriolanus and the feelings that he was stirring in her heart. With shaking hands and trembling lips, she gave herself to him, knowing that he would never leave her again.

Y/n gave Coriolanus everything, holding nothing back as she gave herself to him fully. He took her body like it was his right, his hands exploring and claiming her in ways that left her mind reeling with the intensity of the moment. She wanted to hate him for taking advantage of her, for turning her love and devotion into something twisted and controlling. But all she could focus on was Coriolanus and the way his bright eyes burned into hers, his words hypnotizing her to obey his every command.

#Spotify #coriolanus snow x reader #tbosbas #the hunger games #young!coriolanus snow #tom blyth x reader

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3d-wifey · 8 months

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And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 1

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 5.3k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)

Past (i) - You

[15 & 16] - THE CAPITOL

Pine is a simple wood. It grows in abundance, representing purity and innocence. In Eleven, it’s saved for children. Children like Cane. Only thirteen years old, but at the end of his life. He died in the initial bloodbath from a knife in the heart, you saw it yourself as you were running away. You had made eye contact with him for a split second and had contemplated waiting for him behind one of the many buildings encased by overgrown greenery. But, within the next second, those eyes had clouded over and cannon fire rang in your ears.

He looks so small in his pine casket, you note. The pale shade of his little brown face is the only giveaway that he isn’t sleeping.

His parents come to stand before him, withdrawn in their grief for their youngest child. They each place a fruit in his hand: a pear in his left, and an apple in his right. One for himself and another to share with whoever comes to take his soul.

Neem, his brother, holds up his sister Venus, the youngest girl. She is distraught, wails bouncing through the clearing. Their oldest sibling, Vera, hadn’t been permitted to leave the fields to come to the burial.

Chrysanthemums represent death, mourning, life, and goodbyes. Roses represent life, grief, and sadness. You watch as the adults of the town move in to help his family cover him head to toe in the petals. A few of these flowers are shipped to the Capitol to be used aesthetically, you’re sure. Such an odd thought knowing the rest are used here only for funerals.

You can’t help but think about how close you came to being the one under all those flowers. You imagine your mom having to place the fruits in your hands by herself. The hand on your shoulder keeps you pinned in place as Venus’s knees buckle. Your mom squeezes you to her side and you look at her tightened face. You aren't the only one imagining it.

The grave has already been dug and above it sits his headstone, a rock bigger than both of your hands combined with his initials and his age carved into it.

C. B.

You stare at that rock long after they put him in the ground and cover him in dirt. At the end of the ceremony, all of the children in attendance get in line to hug the family. This one is no different. You’re only fifteen, but you’ve been to many funerals. Only one stands out: your dad’s.

You remember being ten and getting irritated at how sticky the pomegranate juice made your hands, but you preferred it to the painful lump in your throat. You had to be lifted so you could place the fruit in his cold hands and you don’t think your mom put you down after, holding you close to her chest as the town’s children hugged you.

You’re at the back of the line nervously picking at your nail beds. There’s a certain amount of guilt tied to being the one who survived, especially in the face of the grieving family. You haven’t spoken to them since you got back a month ago—it took a while for the Capitol to return his body—but you know they don’t blame you. That’s just not the way people think in Eleven. You don’t turn against your own.

You’re nervous because you have a bigger part to play other than offering condolences and you promised Cane you’d complete it.

Before you go in to hug his father, you speak.

“I, uh, have something for you.” You pull a small bear figurine out of your pocket, crudely carved from wood. “Cane, he gave it to me to give to his family the night before we went into the arena. Just in case I managed to come back.” Something neither of you had any real hope of happening, but you understood the gesture for what it was. He wanted you to bring him back to his family. So you protected it with your life, literally.

And now he’s home.

And that’s what cracks them, you think. His mom’s lips quiver and his dad makes a pained noise when you place it in his shaking grip. And Neem, who has tried to stay strong for his family, gasps around a sob. Venus pulls you into a hug, tears dripping onto your neck.

A breeze comes through, shaking the leaves in the tree and cooling you from the humid heat. You like to think that it’s Cane’s way of thanking you for not forgetting him.

“Your accent is just darling. Say something else, say something else!” The woman in front of you exclaims. You can’t remember her name, but you’re pretty sure she never introduced herself to you anyway. In fact, you don’t think anyone has introduced themselves to you.

"Like what?"

"Like what?" They mock your voice, clapping like you’re a dog that did a trick. You smile around the embarrassment. Maybe for your next act, you’ll play dead. "Oh, that is just a treat."

You've officially been the winner of the sixty-seventh Hunger Games for six months and thirteen days. It's the end of your Victory Tour and all you have to do is tolerate the Capitols poking and prodding at you until the night is over. Though, that's easier said than done.

You remind yourself to make a conscious effort to bury the accent, sound a little more like them. The old you wouldn’t give a damn about how a Capitol perceives you, but the old you didn’t get pawed at nearly as much as you have tonight.

Your dress cinches at your waist uncomfortably. The heels you were forced into press painfully into the calluses on your feet, and you've eaten so many pastries that your jaw aches. Foreign hands pat at your hair, stroking and pulling at the curls as you recount for the fifth time how you escaped the tributes from District Five.

"I climbed to the top of a building and jumped between rooftops while they looked for me on the ground—"

“Skip to the part where you get your scythe!” Someone yells from the crowd, cutting you off. You purse your lips and bite your tongue so hard that you taste metal.

"Alright. Two days in, I was…gifted a scythe from a sponsor—"

"And you used it beautifully!" Another person calls from your left.

"Yes, that move you pulled off against that poor boy from Nine was simply marvelous!" A voice shouts from behind you. You remember him. How could you forget? The "move" you pulled off wasn't intentional. As a warning, you swung your scythe in wide arches, but he ran at you and the blade slit his stomach open. You think he did it on purpose, knowing how it would end for him. You put him out of his misery with his own knife.

He was the first person you killed in the arena. The first thing you had ever killed.

You bite into a muffin, and it tastes like ash on your tongue.

You try to ignore the multiple hands on your shoulders, arms, and neck; all moving to touch any bare skin they can reach. But it's hard to ignore soft hands that have never known a day of work. Much different from your own calloused palms, made rough from your days of harvesting crops and climbing high in trees to pick fruit.

You keep quiet as they talk at you, never actually trying to engage you in the conversation. You grimace as a hand touches your face.

"God, you are stunning—isn't she stunning?" A taller man smiles down at you with golden teeth, moving your face this way and that with his sharp nails.

"Oh, just gorgeous! Who knew they were hiding such a diamond in the Agriculture district, of all places?" The group breaks out in howling laughter, as if the very notion of something worthwhile coming out of District Eleven is outlandish. Somehow, both a joke at your expense and one they expect you to join in on.

You're willing to bet all of your earnings that none of these people have the slightest idea about life in Eleven, what it's like to be truly hungry. Children are being hung for stealing food and here they are, gorging themselves just to throw it all up. You're shaken by the thought that you are completely alone here. Forced to endure the abrasive attention of the Capitol residents until they grow bored with you. You contemplate how easy it would be to escape. You aren't sure how much longer you can go with people petting you like a domesticated animal. Maybe, if you make yourself sick from drinking those vomit-inducing drinks, you could make a strategic retreat with minimal fuss. "Excuse me, ladies, gentlemen," a smooth voice breaks through the crowd before a lithe body follows. The man—or boy, rather—is tall, all tan skin and sun-bleached-hair. Every eye falls on him as soon as he steps up, and you can understand why. Finnick Odair. He's objectively attractive; beautiful, even. You can tell from the brazen way he holds himself that he already knows that. Pink lips are settled in a smug smirk, but they don't take away from his eyes. If you were a writer, you could have authored a thousand and one poems about those eyes alone. "You wouldn't mind me stealing tonight's guest of honor for a dance, would you?" It's quiet, and the crowd looks at each other. They clearly don't want to give you up—their brand-new toy. But who can say no to Finnick Odair? Exclaims of oh, certainly and of course are called out before he comes to stand in front of you. Someone pulls the saucer of miniature cakes and cookies from your death grip and you feel bare before him. You had seen him two years ago during his games. Then, six months after that he came to Eleven for his Victory Tour, apologizing to the families of people he didn't know nor care about. He was just another pretty Career laughing and being gushed over on Caesar Flickerman's couch, pretty low on your list of priorities. But now—well, it was one thing to see him on screen, it was another to be in front of him. It's a lot like standing in front of the ocean, you imagine. You had seen it secondhand, through train windows and simulated in arenas, but nothing could prepare you to see it in person. He doesn't push you to take his hand, just holds it out in front of him like he has all the time in the world. Like he knows you'll take it, eventually. The temptation to reject him is strong. You’d pay money to see the look on his and everyone else's faces if you said no and walked away.

You reach forward and a callused palm meets your own. You trust him as much as you do everyone else vying for your attention here, but he's the lesser of two evils. You tense up as you follow him, mentally preparing yourself to be surrounded. But he doesn't lead you to the center of the dancing mass like you thought he would. Instead, you both linger on the edge, barely close enough to be a part of the crowd. He faces you and asks, "May I have this dance?" Overly formal in a way that nobody else here has been with you.

"We're already here, aren't we?" You say as if you weren’t just contemplating leaving him behind. You step closer to him as the band starts a new song, your right hand holding his left and the other on his shoulder. His free hand lays on your waist, a fraction above the slit on the side of your dress.

“Have you been having fun?” He picks, certainly nonexistent, lint off the shoulder of your dress. Is your eye twitching? It has to be. You want to place a hand on it to tamp down the spasms, but, instead, your nails dig into his shoulder through his suit jacket.

“What? Are you not enjoying your time in our great nation's capitol?” He deadpans. Your mouth tries to twitch into a smirk and you smother it down.

You narrow your eyes. “What’re your thoughts on lying?”

He inhales slowly, head tilting side to side contemplatively. “Depends. Am I the one lying?” You shake your head. He shrugs. “Then, I hate it.”

“Then, I won’t answer,” you shrug back. He lets out a puff of air from his nose, a laugh?

"I'm surprised Seeder isn't here with you. She talked you up a big game, you know. Very confident that you'd win." His eyes sweep over the crowd of dancing couples before settling on you. “Guess, I should have bet on you too, huh?”

You don’t know how you feel about that. Why would Seeder be that confident in a semi-malnourished fifteen-year-old with no combat skills?

You definitely wouldn’t have bet on yourself. If you were in his shoes, you would’ve put money into one of the Careers. Maybe that one girl from Two—perhaps the most muscular person you’ve ever seen. She was benching at least twice her body weight in the Training Center, but you think it was just an intimidation tactic. Though, a pointless one, since she didn’t even make it out of the Cornucopia. You suppose no amount of muscle can combat an axe to the back of the spine. “I wouldn’t have if I were you. But now that you've actually seen me, do I meet all the expectations she set?” You partially joke. Partially because as much as you hate to admit it, you are curious. Why you’re curious about what he thinks of you will remain a mystery. “Now that I've actually seen you? No,” you look up at him in shock before he grins like a shark, teeth on display. "You exceed them. Don't get me wrong. You were beautiful on screen, but the TV doesn't do you justice." He does little to hide the once-over he gives you. It was meant to be caught. You don't know what to say. You've been excessively complimented and fawned over since you were reaped, but somehow, it felt different coming from him. His gaze felt different. Like he actually saw you. You throw that thought away. Finnick is a known flirt—a playboy. He means nothing by it and neither does the look in his eyes. "She's pregnant. Seeder," you clarify, abruptly changing the topic. “About seven months along. She's resting at the hotel.” Traveling for so long had taken its toll. Not to mention the stress of just being in the Capitol. Snow, the bastard, wouldn't let her stay behind, even though Chaff was willing to take her place as your mentor on the tour. "Ah, congratulations are in order then."

"Please,” you scoff. “I'm sure you didn't come up to me just to talk about Seeder." Your gaze bounces around his face as you do everything in your power to avoid eye contact with him.

“Why not? I can’t ask about a good friend?”

“If you’re such “close friends” shouldn’t you have already known she was pregnant?”

“Touché.” He concedes with a nod, his smile still in place. Or at least you think he does. You aren’t entirely sure what touché means. “I came up to you because you looked like you were one more scone away from using it as a weapon." The laugh you let out is a surprise to you both and you have to bite your cheek to stifle it. You haven’t been doing a whole lot of laughing over the past six months.

"Was I that obvious?" He's quiet for a moment as he stares at you and you don't dwell on it. Instead, you focus on the freckles dotting the bridge of his nose.

You're only a year younger than him and, yet, there's something about him that feels far older than any other sixteen-year-old you've met. The way he carries himself—something sharp-edged hidden under indifference, an alertness in his eyes that you're sure mirrors your own. "To anyone who cared to look," his voice deepens as he hums. It really is smooth. "Definitely." "Am I supposed to believe that the Capitol's darling cares about little ol' me?" "So, you do know who I am." His lips shift into a shit-eating grin, preening as if he caught you in a lie. He’s probably used to people fawning over him, and that’s something you’d never do. Be that as it may, you can acknowledge that there might be something worth fawning over. “Who doesn't?” It’s been two years and people are still talking about his games. And for good reason, you have to admit.

"Touché...again.” He tilts his head with contemplatively narrowed eyes. You narrow your eyes right back simply based on the fact that he did it first. “You know, that’s the second time you’ve—” "Seriously, what're you hoping to achieve here? You've gotta have a motive. Everyone does.” You push, cutting to the chase and sounding more accusatory than you meant to. But, he’s a victor too, right? Maybe you can toe the line here without repercussions waiting on the other side.

"Hmm, blunt. Even you?" He questions, continuing when you nod. "What's your motive for dancing with me, then?"

You could have said no to this dance, but that would’ve meant staying surrounded by them. This, being with Finnick, is a breath of fresh air in comparison. He may not be Eleven or from any other district that’s similar to yours, but he is District. That’s gotta be worth something—some kind of kinship.

"I'd do just about anything to escape those vultures," you pause. Then, feeling emboldened, add, "And I guess you're not terrible to look at." If you were going to be forced to stay here, you might as well find your fun where you can. And talking to Finnick is fun. Undoubtedly, the only fun you've had all night.

"Oh, thank you," he laughs, mirth coloring his cheeks a pretty shade of pink. "You know, I was worried about that."

"Is that so?" You smile, trying, and failing, to not step on his feet.

"Definitely," he pauses for a second, seemingly deciding on something before answering your question, "It’s just that—you remind me of someone. They got wrapped up in the Capitol; thought they could handle the…” he makes a wide sweeping gesture to the gluttonous pageantry around you and you get it. The extravagance, the theatrics, the Capitol of it all. “But the Capitol asked for more than they were willing to give. And, well...I couldn't save them." His eyes look glazed as he trails off. His face is grim, his smile gone so fast it's almost like it was never there to begin with. You find that you want it back. "And you want to save me?" You guess, heart in your throat.

"Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. The people here? Every single one of them wants us. They want to talk to us, touch us, sleep with us," you swallow at the look in his eye. "But they don't see us as people." He leans towards you and you freeze. For a split second, you think he's going to kiss you. That doesn’t scare you. Instead, he hovers by your ear. What would you have done if he had kissed you? You don't think you would've moved away. That scares you. "Me and you," he hums, lips against your ear, "Well, we might as well be a completely different species to them. We're lesser than. Beloved pets at most, tamed beasts at least."

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” You live in Eleven, after all. There’s a reason no one goes looking for the kids that go missing from the fields. According to the people in charge, there’ll always be another to take their place. You sigh through your nose and turn away, but immediately turn back to Finnick when you make eye contact with the smiling man with gold teeth.

He shakes his head, lips curled into a frown of disgust, "Look at them, the way they linger at the edge of the crowd." The hand on your waist moves to the small of your back as he spins you. "You see how desperate they are to get in your good graces?" You peek over his shoulder at the people watching you, teeming with anticipation.

"Is that not what you're doing?" You ask, your cheek pressed to his. "Trust me, sweetheart. If I was trying to gain your favor, it'd be somewhere a little more private with a lot less talking." He doesn't give you enough time to reply, not that you know how, before continuing. "I'm doing the same thing I've done since I was reaped," he lowers his voice, almost like he's imparting some kind of secret. To the right person, maybe he is. "Surviving. I'd suggest finding your allies now if you wanna do the same." And then he turns to place a chaste kiss against your cheek. To anyone watching the two of you, it would look like he's just flirting with you. You shiver as he pulls away from you, taking all the warmth with him. He looks down at you for a moment longer, locking you in his gaze. You had never really seen the ocean, you remind yourself, but, through him, you're staring at it now. Vast and limitless. All-consuming. He brings your knuckles to his smooth lips, and he smirks. The urge to shiver is alarmingly strong as his mouth moves delicately against the skin of your knuckles as he begins to speak. "Until next time." You catch the shimmer in his sea-green eyes. It has to mean something, something worth pursuing. You've never known the ocean, but as you watch Finnick walk away into the crowd of adoring Capitols, you think you could grow to like it. There's a drive in him that's rare to see outside of Eleven, let alone in the Capitol, and it further proves your assumption right. There’s a kinship between the districts that only the victors are privy to—you and Finnick might be cut from the same cloth, and that’s made even more apparent by the way the masses move in to surround you both. You jump as trumpets sound around you and a spotlight shines on the balcony. You missed your chance to escape. It's time for Snow's speech.

Present (I) - You

[23 & 24] - DISTRICT ELEVEN

It’s winter in Eleven. There’s little worse than winter in Eleven. You must have forgotten to close your window when you left in a rush because the air in your room is practically crystallized, and you mull over the idea of igniting your fireplace but decide against it.

Normally, you would go to the Capitol after being invited to a party, your prep team would scrub and shave you from top to bottom, and Snow would introduce you to your client for the night. Then, you would stay in your hotel room and have time to recoup before you left. But, this time, there was no party. Only a very important partner of Snow’s who is not a patient man. So you left in the early morning and made the trip back the next day as the sun was rising. Seven hours there, seven hours back. You’re dead on your feet and your bed has never looked more tempting. You stand before your vanity and grab a makeup wipe, dragging it over your face and revealing the bags under your eyes. You're tired, bone tired. You kick your heels off. You unzip the back of your dress and let it fall to the ground. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you press on one of the bruises littering your neck. You follow the trail to the top of your chest, breast, stomach, and hips. You frown at yourself. What a pitiful painting you make. "It's starting!" Your mom calls from down the hall and you sigh, looking at your bed mournfully. You'd usually avoid Snow's announcements like the plague, you don't want to look at him more than you already have to, but it's different this time. It's the Quarter Quell. The last Quarter Quell had double the amount of tributes, and Haymitch told you how he only won by the skin of his teeth. So, despite yourself, you're curious to see what kind of nightmare Snow comes up with. There's also something else driving you. A man you met in passing at the party. Plutarch Heavensbee. He was strange, but a different kind than you were used to from the Capitols. He's taking the place of Head Gamemaker after Seneca Crane's untimely death. He spoke in riddles, always hinting at things of importance without saying anything at all. And there's a nagging feeling in the back of your mind surrounding something he said. "I understand that there’s a certain kind of…job that President Snow has employed you for. If I told you there was a chance to put an end to it, what would you say?" "I'd say you should cut back on the Morphling." "I assure you, I'm sober," he laughed, "I can't go into detail right now. I just need to know, when the time comes, that I can trust you to fight." Fight. It’s an interesting term, but you wonder if it has the same definition for him as it does for you. You doubt it. Very rarely is there ever any overlap between the way of thinking for Eleven and the Capitol. The people of Eleven fight every day and you’ve heard the other districts have finally picked up on the habit. Riots upon riots upon riots and it’s all thanks to the kids from Twelve. You still can't decipher what he was telling you and you’d usually chalk it up to the regular Capitol jargon. But there was something, something different that you couldn’t put your finger on.

You throw pajamas on, something soft that won't irritate you, and walk to the living room. "Here: sugar, berries, and licorice root, just the way you like it." Your mom hands you the cup and pretends she doesn't see the marks on your body. You're thankful. She looks tired too, older. "Thank you, Ma." You say, for more than just the tea. "Of, course. Now, sit, sit. He's walking out." You settle gingerly on the couch beside her, sorer than you thought, and pull your legs under you as Snow stands behind a podium. He lets the audience quiet down before beginning. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the seventy-fifth year of The Hunger Games. And it was written in the charter of The Games that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against The Capitol." You drink carefully from your cup as he continues, steaming liquid burning the roof of your mouth. "Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this, the seventy-fifth anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell," you place your cup on the table and fidget with your bracelet as Snow pulls a letter from an envelope, "as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of The Capitol. On this, the third Quarter Quell Games the male and female Tributes are to be reaped—" "No." The hairs on your arms stand on end. You brace for the blow. "—from the existing pool of victors in each district." "No. No, no, no, that's not, that's not right." You shake your head. It doesn't take long for your mom to start sobbing beside you and you…you can't breathe.

You suck a breath in and it feels like it's being funneled through a filter. Not enough, not nearly enough. Your heart's beating fast, faster, the fastest it’s ever beat and you're getting lightheaded. You stand up on shaking legs and stumble to the door, glass shatters as you knock a vase over in your pursuit. You need more air, you need, you need—you step out onto the snow-covered porch, submerging your bare feet in the white powder. It’s odd, it rarely snows here.

You kneel down and grab fistfuls of snow, smearing the ice on your face and grounding yourself. You breathe and you rationalize. You can breathe. You're taking in frigid lungfuls of air and you are breathing. You stare down the long walkway leading to your home, covered in both ice and snow. Across from that walkway is a cow pasture and past that pasture are woods. Vast and open and if you will it, no one would be able to find you. You wouldn’t be able to leave, not with the giant electric fence surrounding the district, but they wouldn’t find you.

But Snow could find your mom.

You stay out there until your feet and hands go numb. And then you stay until it hurts to move your fingers and toes, the skin of your shins and knees prickling with the temperature drop. You stay until your mom drags you in herself. "Let's warm you up." She says, but she's mostly talking to herself. She wraps you in a blanket and sits you on the couch. She goes to the kitchen and comes back with a fresh cup of tea. Saliva gathers in your mouth at the thought of drinking anything, so you use it to warm your hands instead.

“Oh, look what you’ve done to yourself.” You look to where she’s hovering over the carpet. Red footprints lead from the door to where you are now. You must have stepped on the broken pieces of the vase. You wait for the sting of pain to come now that you’re aware of the wound, but there’s nothing.

“I’ll go get something to clean you up with—”

“Can you just…can you just sit with me?” You ask and look away when you catch her frenzied gaze.

“Yeah, of course, baby. Of course.” The couch dips with her weight as she sits beside you.

By now, Caesar Flickerman is recapping the announcement to the audience with his cheery co-star. You can never remember his name. You're as still as a statue as Caesar goes over a list of remaining victors. You don't move when your mom holds onto you. She holds you and she holds you and she cries for you. You don’t think you have any more tears left in you.

“Now, it always hurts to say goodbye, Claudius, but I can admit there are a few lovely victors I’m particularly attached to.” Oh, you think, that’s his name. Doubtful that you’ll remember it.

“Yes, Caesar, I completely agree. Here’s one of mine now. From District Four: Finnick Odair!” Your eye starts to twitch, lower lid spasming. They play clips of him. Finnick waving to the audience as he walks on stage, Finnick posing for the camera at a photo shoot, Finnick walking down the red carpet at a movie premiere.

You imagine footage of him being reaped for the Quell and saliva is gathering in your mouth again, stomach flexing as you gag. You double over, nausea washing over you as you try to keep what little is in your stomach down. Absently, you feel a hand rubbing your back in wide, soothing circles that aren’t doing a lot to soothe you.

You were wrong. You do have tears left in you.

A/N: 1.) your arena is inspired by Valle dei Mulin in Italy 2.) The people of 11 all have farm and gardening-related names. (Neem tree, venus flytrap, aloe vera, Mass Cane) 3.) Cane had a crush on the reader similar to Peeta's initial crush on Katniss 4.) Each district has a different accent depending on their geography

#the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #catching fire #hunger games catching fire #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #and they'd find us in a week

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azrielslightintheshadows · 5 months

Note

Hello!! I went back

I would like to ask Rhysand something, I imagine something where maybe in the store where the reader works some people don't like the reader and make fun of her, and the reader always stays quiet about it, not fighting back, and maybe her bond with Rhys is recent and they are still getting to know each other, so no one respects the reader and Rhys doesn't know anything, but after a while, maybe one day when Rhys goes to visit the reader in the store where she works, Rhys sees people making fun of his partner and gets angry and defends her?

High Lady.

Rhysand x f!Reader

Warnings; swearing, scary Rhys.

Masterlist.

Hiii welcome back in my requests I'm so happy to see you again! I had so much fun writing this! Hope you enjoy it!

“Hey Colin have you heard what Y/n says?” Ivy your coworker shouted.

“What?” Colin quirked a brow, amusement flashing in his eyes.

“She told one of her friends that came here earlier that she went on a date with the High Lord” Ivy burst into laughter with Colin following suit.

“Is that true y/n? Did you dream about being Lady Night yesterday?” He exclaimed making your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“I wonder what our High Lord would say if he heard the rumors this peasant spreads around. I mean have you seen him? He would never waste his time with someone like her.” Ivy looked at you with an arrogant expression.

You lowered your gaze to the ground and gritted your teeth trying to hold back the tears. “Aww you’re making her cry” Colin cooed with a smirk.

“She deserves this for disrespecting our High Lord.” She scoffed and turned her attention to the customer that walked in.

That was your daily life ever since you started working in the jewellery store. The first day on the job you managed to sell the most expensive necklace of the store and the owner immediately became quite fond of you. Your coworkers though feared that you would get a promotion and decided to make your life a nightmare in hopes you would quit. It hurt you deeply, but you decided that the job was more important, so you didn’t give up, you just tried to ignore their comments.

You focused on the costumers and once again you sold more jewels than everyone else.

Great, tomorrow they will treat me even worse. You mentally groaned.

“Bye” you mumbled as you grabbed your bag and left the store.

“Look at her, she is in such a hurry. Is the High Lord waiting for you?” Colin howled.

You shook your head and quickly walked away. You wanted to scream “Yes he is” but you knew they wouldn’t believe you. Usually, they liked to mock you for your looks and intelligence but now they found the perfect topic. You cursed your self for talking loudly with your friend, you didn’t mind when they made fun of you but making fun of your relationship? It hurt you deeply. You only met Rhysand two months ago and the insecurities of not being enough for him were still on the surface, so their mockery cut you like a knife.

With a sigh you unlocked the door of your apartment and walked in. You hanged your coat in the closet and hurried to the kitchen to cook dinner.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts and you smiled. You quickly took off the apron and checked your self on the small mirror next to the door before opening.

“Hey beautiful” Rhysand’s deep voice filled the silence. He gave his signature feline smile and offered you a bouquet of roses.

“Hi” you chirped and stood on your tiptoes to give him a soft kiss. “It smells so good.” He murmured into the kiss, and you giggled.

“I’m kissing you and you’re thinking about the food?” you feigned a hurt expression. “I have to stop spending so much time with Cassian.” He chuckled and let you guide him inside.

After dinner you sat in front of the fireplace with two glasses of wine, talking about your days and stealing kisses from each other.

“I feel like something is wrong” Rhys said softly.

“What do you mean?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Like something is bothering you… you usually smile more” he explained.

“Oh I’m okay just tired.” You avoided his gaze.

He stared at your face for a few seconds and sighed “you know you can tell me everything, right?”

“Yes my love. I’m okay.” You smiled.

You spent the night in his arms, sleeping peacefully as his warmth made you feel safe.

Morning came and you slowly got up without waking him up. You got ready for work and left a note on the counter before leaving.

Off to work, I left a key so you can lock the door.

Have a nice day ♡

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The moment you stepped into the store Colin raised a brow and smiled mischievously. “How’s the high lord?”

You rolled your eyes and placed your stuff in your drawer.

“Oh come on, we care about our High Lord… is he okay?” he continued.

You had hoped that he wouldn’t make fun of you today that Ivy isn’t working.

The day went by painfully slow, your hands shook by the constant mocking and even some customers looked at you with pity. Colin was telling everyone that you are so desperate for attention that you started rumors about dating the High Lord.

The sun was setting, and you started cleaning the counters and preparing for closing when Ivy walked in.

“Oh hello Lady Night” she chirped and exchanged looks with Colin.

“Hi” you replied and continued counting the money you made.

“So, are you really dating the High Lord or he’s just wetting his dick?” She howled.

“Is this the way to speak to your future High Lady?” a growl sounded from behind you.

“Rhys?” you gasped and turned around. Your mate was standing in front of the door looking more intimidating than ever. His night-kissed power shook the floor making some of the jewels clink against each other.

“My Lord…” Ivy gaped “I’m so sorry I- I didn’t know.”

“Who do you think you are to treat my mate like that.” He snarled, his voice was different, more intimidating, more terrifying and it made your knees tremble. You quickly understood that this voice was filled with authority. This voice didn’t belong to your mate but to the High Lord of the Night Court. The most powerful High Lord in Prythian. Thus, your colleagues fell on their knees, bowing their heads and shaking in fear.

“You’re both done here. If I ever see you again near my mate I will fucking end you. I will turn your brains into mist.” He smirked as both got up and sprinted out, nodding their heads repeatedly.

“Rhys, what is my boss going to say? He will fire me.” You spoke.

“He wouldn’t dare.” He replied and moved closer wrapping his arms around your waist. “And even if he did, you wouldn't have time for this job anyway. You will have a court to rule my High Lady.”

Your eyes watered and you pressed your forehead on his chest.

“Thank you for defending me.” You whispered.

“Anything for you my mate. I love you.” He said softly and you gasped, you had never said it until now.

“I love you” you replied.

He cupped your jaw and lifted your face so you could stare into his eyes.

“My High Lady.” He whispered and captured your lips with his own.

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amaranthine-enihtnarama · 1 year

Text

Les Petits Morts (Marquis de Gramont x Assassin! F! Reader)

(Cat and mouse, do-they-want-to-kill-each-other-or-fuck-each-other, enemies to lovers, two psychotic mfers flirt)

taglist: @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose

warnings: freaky behavior, blood k!nk, knife play, violence, what y’all came for (🤨), reader is lowkey a brat hehe, marquis doms ofc bless up, mentions and brief moments of violence, build-up, more story than necessary probably. Romance⁉️

Part Two is here!

Vincent de Gramont had made a grave miscalculation when it came to her. He knew the moment he’d laid eyes on her that he was in danger: her wide, brown eyes shining golden in the rising sun, her fragrant hair swooping over one shoulder, letting the skin of her neck catch the light, and, as she’d finally stepped before him, that haunting scent of jasmine and gardenias, the radiance and bohemian ease she exuded; he was immediately disarmed from the knowledge that she was a killer. She was a slippery figure, shrouded in mystery, in fear. No one knew where she came from, but everybody knew of the story of how she earned her freedom. A young girl, bloodthirsty, filled with fire, tearing open the throat of the Marquis to whom she had been promised, her bloody mouth pulled back to bare a glimmering smile in the face of her freedom. Still, she remained in her former line of work, even more dangerous with her years of being outside of The Table’s shadow.

La Belladonna is what they called her, and she gave no name. She smiled at him, gaze twinkling something wicked. He maintained composure, of course, but he couldn’t break away from that haunting, doe-eyed gaze of hers. He’d expected a woman, but not one like this. He’d imagined a savage before him based on the story that had always been told. Not someone so beautiful, so graceful…so enchanting.

“Bonjour, Marquis,” she greeted, “I do hope you didn’t mind the early morning.”

“I did.”

She laughed, turning away and taking a seat against the wall.

“Well, that’s just too bad.”

She checked her nails; a crimson manicure. Her eyes flitted from it to him. He was confused by the expectation in her gaze. He’d never once seen that look in anyone’s eyes before (except, perhaps, from one of The Table).

“Won’t you have a seat,” she questioned.

He cleared his throat, glancing over to one of his men then slowly moving over to the barrel next to her. She admired the horses with a small subdued smile, then turned to him with a sigh. He surveyed her, unsure what to make of this so-called dangerous killer. He was quite sure he’d met worse. He moved to speak, but she cut him off.

“So, Marquis, why exactly do you require my services?”

“They say you’re the best,” he responded cooly.

Her lips curved into a bemused smile. “They say we’re all the best. Why me specifically?”

He gave a slight smile. “You are able to go unnoticed. Become invisible. I want someone invisible.”

“And why is that? Don’t you have Caine? He’s the best.”

His smile fell. Her eyes widened slightly with the thrill of his upset.

“What? That’s practically public information.”

“In that case, I suppose you already know the answer to your own question.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, my friend,” she corrected, tapping his nose with a slender cigarette holder and a bright smile, “I know you want John Wick dead, I know you want those aligned with him dead. But I know you not only have Caine, but the entirety of The Table’s resources at your disposal. You don’t need someone like me; you don’t require someone so subtle, it’s certainly not your style. You are fortunate enough to have to ability of using sheer force to achieve your goals.”

She took out a cigarette, placed it in the holder, then put in between her lips. Despite himself, he stole a glance at her mouth, taking in the slight purse of her lips as she lit her cigarette. He watched smoke puff from between them.

“So…what is it you want with me?”

He met her eyes, sitting back. “You’re very observant. Good job.”

Her eyebrow twitched in annoyance, creating a tiny crack in her mask. She gave a slight smile, blowing some of her cigarette smoke at his face.

“Hm.”

He stood, brushing his nose off. “You’re right. If we were looking at this in the short term, I don’t need someone like you. But I am not thinking of the short term.”

Her eyebrows rose in interest. “I’m not a kept puppy, Monsieur de Gramont. I’m sure you recall my exit from the Table. I wouldn’t recommend becoming my boss.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“For my price, I think you are.”

She held his gaze for a moment, finishing her cigarette. She tossed the butt onto the barrel, then gave a light chuckle, shaking her head in amusement.

“Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear.”

She stood, raking her fingers through her hair.

“I apologize, but I’m afraid I’ve wasted our time. I suggest getting some extra sleep while you can.”

Vincent watched her turn away with unease, swallowing as she started to leave. He shot a look to the men at the door, then walked after her. He moved to place a hand on her shoulder but she turned swiftly, pressing her cigarette holder into his chest, pushing him backward.

“Do not grab me, Monsieur. I cannot be bought. Only hired. I do not make deals, especially not with men like you. There is not a price you can name that would change my mind.”

“I’m quite sure the prices I can name are beyond anything you’ve heard before.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re quite arrogant, Gramont. It’s endearing, but not enough to hold my attention. Goodbye.”

Vincent watched as she turned to leave, but soon slowed down, then halted to a stop. A pressure lifted on his chest. She tilted her head, twirling the cigarette holder between her fingers.

“Do you really want to offer up two perfectly fine men for the slaughter? Just for a silly little price?”

“I would prefer to avoid bloodshed altogether, mademoiselle.”

She was silent for a moment.

“Whoever told you I am a patient woman was misled you, Gramont.”

He smiled. “Whoever told you I am a relenting man did the same.”

***

Milan, Italy.

Belladonna sat back in her chair, taking a long drag from her cigarette in its holder, crossing her legs with a smile. After several months of hide-and-seek with that pesky Marquis, she’d finally shaken off some the men he had tracking her, and killed the rest. Now, she finally felt like she could just breathe, sit back, relax, enjoy her espressos and afternoons by the sea, and then, when she fancied, a night at the opera. As luck would have it, they were performing her favorite; Madama Butterfly.

She poured herself a glass of champagne as the lights dimmed, and as she took a sip her phone buzzed. Her eyebrows drew together in annoyance; she made it clear to her team not to contact her, lest they risk her being tracked again by one of the…

She frowned, reading the text. It was in french, from a sender with no number.

The Italian sun has treated you well, Mademoiselle.

Her shoulders tensed, but she kept her cool. How did he find her? And why the hell did he follow her here? She was quite sure she’d made herself clear with the last two men she got rid of: do not bother me again, or you’ll end up looking just an mangled as them.

Darkness swallowed the theater as the curtains rose, and Belladonna felt a pit form in her stomach. She’d never felt so troubled by anyone as much as she had by this man. He was bull-headed and inescapable—with all of the ability in the world to keep her in his sights. Discretely, she glanced around the balconies in her view, but only saw strangers. Where was he? Where was the son of a bitch this time?

She put out her cigarette harshly, trying to keep her composure. After finishing her glass of champagne, she sent a message in response.

You’re toying with your life, Gramont.

I could say the same for you.

She rose an unimpressed eyebrow, twirling her cigarette holder between her fingers. She set her phone down with a heavy sigh. He just had to ruin everything, didn’t he? Bothering her during her jobs, and now during her time off. Her phone buzzed again. With a clench of her fist, she ignored it.

As she paid more attention to the opera, her mind wandered. Her six-foot-four shadow quickly evaporated into a tiny shadow in the back of her thoughts, and she admired the gorgeous costumes of the singers, the swelling and rhythm of the orchestra, and rested her cheek on her fist in awe as the soprano playing Madama Butterfly began her aria Un Bel di Vedremo.

She could remember the first time she’d heard it; she’d gotten it as a gift from a lover in a period of innocent youth that had become alien to her. The lover she lost as a sacrifice of that innocence. Despite herself, her eyes grew misty from the memory. She watched the soprano’s wistful gaze, the ghost of a smile on her lips, and as she reached the peak of the aria and the orchestra swelled, Belladonna could’ve sworn she could see the singer’s eye’s glistening along with hers.

The music of the aria faded out, and she quickly wiped her eyes as the lights of the house rose. She rose to her feet, glancing around again. Her heart jumped at the sight of a tall, brown haired man in a three-piece suit leaving one of the booths. She hesitated to get worked up—every man she’d laid her eyes on had a three-piece suit on, it didn’t have to be him. Maybe she was just in denial. Although she’d never want to say it, the Marquis was successfully beginning to wear her down.

She dialed a number on her phone. The call was answered before it could ring.

“Yes?”

“The Marquis is here in Milan. There may be some of his men at the opera house. Kill them, would you? Be thorough with it. Wherever they may be crawling about. And leave me a change.”

“Of course, right away, ma’am.”

She hung up, scanning the audience again before leaving her booth. She slipped into a women’s restroom, entering an out-of-service handicapped stall and quickly removing her dress and opening the duffel bag tucked between the toilet and the wall. It was a pity she wouldn’t get the pleasure of enjoying it, it was a lovely piece. She admired it on the hanger with a sigh, tugging on a bulletproof jumpsuit and zipping it up, adding elbow and knee pads. She laced up her black military boots, then unzipped the duffel bag, placed the dress and heels inside, and pulled out the pair of pistols under the false bottom, placing the magazines in the sides of her boots. She slid a pair of blade into hidden pockets in the lower back of the jumpsuit, then tugged on a beanie and a black face mask.

She pushed the duffel bag back in its spot, then stepped onto the toilet, opened the air vent, and with a hop, grabbed onto the ceiling and pulled her way up inside. Her knee and foot made dull impacts with the metallic interior of the vents as she pulled the door up.

She pulled out her phone, going through her messages to find the blueprints one of her navigators had sent. She stalled on a message from that numberless contact, the one she’d ignored before.

You look beautiful in that dress, Bella.

A frown formed on her face at the message. It wasn’t the first of these messages she’d read in these days. Messages occasionally complimented her ways of eluding him, how a pair of earrings complimented her honey brown complexion, how bloody a mess she’d left behind. Still, none were as direct as this one.

Beautiful, she thought. It conjured up an odd feeling, imagining him saying such a compliment. Perhaps if he wasn’t such a foolish nuisance, it might’ve even excited her a touch. She quickly went to the blueprint of the vents and started to crawl towards her escape.

After a sweaty fifteen minute excursion through the vents, Belladonna finally jumped down from a window and landed on a cushy pile of discarded wood. She didn’t allow even a grunt as she got to her feet and rounded the corner, finding a grey-suited body lying in a pool of her own blood a few feet away from her bike. Her cushy hotel was no longer an option, so she had to relent for the secondary location she’d had set up. The only bother would be the chilly night ride.

///

Montemarciano

She’d made it the country house by dawn, and the sun was preparing to break through the horizon. Exhaustion pulled on her limbs, demanding she collapse directly into the earth as she made her way to the door. She let her shoulders slump as she rested a hand on the door. This place was quite literally in the middle of nowhere. She’d made sure it was no registry or map. Yanking her beanie and mask off and taking a deep inhale of fresh, crisp air, she went for her key behind the false brick when a creak sounded inside the house. Belladonna froze, gripping the brick in her hand.

It couldn’t have been the Marquis, but it could’ve been someone else even more dangerous. She stayed in a crouch, crawling towards the back door and seeing it ajar. Her eyes widened, and she pulled out a pistol. Gently, she pushed the door open and slid inside, crouching against the wall like a statue, eyes scanning the living room. There weren’t many places for an intruder to hide.

In the blue light against the curtains, she watched a large figure pass through the room and right by her. The figure entered the bedroom, and Belladonna placed the brick down silently, getting onto her feet.

She slid through the door, watching the figure in the darkness. They sat at her desk, staring out of the modestly sized window as more blue light filtered through the linen curtains of the dark room. She flicked on the lamp. The figure turned and she fired without hesitation, watching as they tumbled to the floor. She leapt over the bed, planting a foot by the stranger’s head and placing her weight into the knee that she dug into their shoulder. The figure had covered their face with their arm and swiped it blindly at her, but she easily knocked it to the ground and trapped their wrist under the heel of her boot.

Cooly, she held the gun to their face, pressing harder on their wrist. A familiar voice swore, letting out a grunt. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Gramont,” she remarked quietly, making out the face beneath her.

He was breathing heavily, eyes darting between the gun and her face. She turned off the safety.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you now,” she said.

“Many will come after you. Worse than me,” he said breathlessly.

She smirked, shaking her head. “I said a good reason, Monsieur. Don’t waste your breath.”

He looked at the gun, then to her surprise, smiled a bit. He rose his eyebrows.

“Come now, Bella. Haven’t we had fun these past months?”

“I thought you’d be better at bargaining.”

“If you really intended to kill me, I would be dead by now.”

She paused and tilted her head.

He made a good point.

With a grin, she added. “I really intended to kill you, Monsieur, I would’ve killed you the morning we met.”

She moved the gun away from his face.

“You came here alone.”

“I came to deliver something to you.”

He tried to sit up, but she doubled down her weight onto him.

“Certainly you don’t think I intend to harm you?”

She studied his face, then chuckled. “Not alone, no.”

He let out a breath as she rose to her feet, stepping away from him. He sat up, watching as she trained her gun onto him as he stood. Vincent fixed his hair and his suit, gesturing to the door.

“It’s in the living room.”

“Mhm. Ladies first.”

With his trained on her gun, he passed through the door and she followed silently, pointing it at his head. She flicked the light switch on as they rounded the corner, and lamps lit up, revealing a spare but cozy living room. He chuckled, turning to her.

“Very cute, Bella.”

She didn’t answer, only held the gun to his face. He turned back around, going to the coffee table. There was a large black box, along with two other boxes. One appeared to be a shoebox, the other a mystery. Caught off guard, by gifts, Belladonna’s grip loosened on the gun. She squinted in confusion, almost wanting to laugh.

“What…”

“Your gown tonight was lovely, but it can’t be worn again after you left it in that filthy bathroom. I thought I would replace it for you.”

“…the fuck…”

He stepped towards her, and her gun returned to its leveled aim reflexively.

“…Is wrong with you?”

He smiled, pleased at her bewilderment, although she seemed a bit amused as well.

“What is wrong with a gift?”

“Oh, when it comes from you, several things.”

He chuckled, placing his hands in his pockets.

“We’ve been playing this game for a little while now, and I must admit that I see no end to it. So why don’t we talk it over dinner?”

“It took fourteen bodies to get to dinner, huh?”

He looked away almost bashfully, if his eyes could express such an emotion.

“I thought you’d be easier to kill, I’ll admit that too. And I believe tonight makes twenty.”

His callousness uneased her, but not as much as the glimmer that formed in his eyes when he fixed his gaze on her.

“Come now, is dinner so bad compared to these last few months?”

She narrowed her eyes. He smiled again.

“Think of it as a celebration if you want. Perhaps for your birthday? It’s this weekend, isn’t it?”

In an immediate shift, her eyes darkened, and without warning she flung a knife at his face that he barely evaded being mortally wounded by. Blood poured down his cheek as she lunged at him, knocking him against the wall, but this time he had his footing. He grabbed the fabric of her jumpsuit and whirled around to slam her into the wall with a grunt, but she quickly drove her knee into his stomach once, twice, then kicked him back with both legs, sending him crashing against the kitchen counter. The photos on the wall shook on impact. Before he could even recover she had him on the floor, and his mind quickly went back to the position she’d had him in before and he shot into action, overpowering her just enough to have her beneath him. Still, she was fast, and limber. It seemed like only a moment had passed when she’d locked her thighs around his neck and held his arm at a seemingly impossible angle. He gasped and coughed, feeling the blood pumping in his head.

“You haven’t really gotten your hands dirty like this before, have you Marquis?”

He felt around desperately, and found a saving grace sheathed in her boot.

“You’ve never had your heart race like this, feeling your life threatening to slip through your fingers.”

She twisted his arm further, and he snatched whatever he’d found out of her boot. Her laugh rung in his ears like a funeral bell.

“It’s unfortunate your first real fight turned out to be your last.”

He stabbed her in the upper thigh, and she growled lowly, her hold weakening. He moved in a flash, snatching the blade out of her leg and trying to force her onto the ground, but she began to shimmy backwards despite her injury. He grunted, grabbing at her until he’d finally pinned her down, when he saw her arm go out of his line of sight and something hard slammed into the side of his head. Despite his delirium he grabbed her arm as she hit him again, and forced it to the ground, getting frustrated grunt out of her as she struggled, but he had her.

He caught his breath, his muscles straining to keep her in place. Adrenaline was coursing through his body faster than blood as his sight cleared, and his eyes fixed onto her searing gaze. Slowly, he pressed the blade—a small one, to his surprise—against her neck, watching her swallow. Their eyes locked onto each other. Their blood rushed violently as their chests heaved. Vincent pressed his hand into her chest harder, keeping her firmly on the ground. Her eyes scanned his face with a curious glint.

“I’m not afraid to cut,” he said through puffs of labored breath.

She grinned. “I’m not afraid of cuts, rich boy.”

He dug in the blade, dragging it slowly through her skin. Her fists clenched but she gave no reaction this time. Her eyes only bored into his as the living room filled with warm sunlight. Crimson trickled from the cut, and he smeared it with his thumb as they fell still. He could feel her blood humming through her thundering pulse. Her skin was hot, alive. She watched him, then grabbed his arm, pulling him down with sheer strength. He tensed, preparing for an attack but she just held him by the lapel, a smile dancing on her lips as she leaned up slightly.

“Tell me,” she said quietly, “Has this become business, or pleasure, Vincent?”

His eyes seemed distant as his name left her lips. They drifted to her curved, full mouth, and then fixed onto her eyes. Wordlessly, he took his thumb from her neck and placed it against his tongue, watching for her reaction. She gave none. A challenge.

“Are you pleased?”

To his surprise, she giggled. Her body relaxed under his and Vincent’s head swam with confusing desires. What was this, now that he thought about it, what the hell had gotten into him to chase this girl for months? He looked at her face for answers, finding that same smile he’d seen the first time they’d met. What did it mean?

“Come here,” she encouraged, watching his eyes scan over her in a daze.

He looked at her. Her smile widened, and she beckoned him closer. But with what, he wondered, how could she command him so swiftly without words? Her eyes trailed down to his lips with what part him hoped was the same mysterious hunger that was bubbling up inside him. He leaned closer, breath fanning against her face.

“That’s right,” she said softly, reclining.

He leaned down over her, and for a moment there was stillness between them, a pull that seemed to magnetize them closer. Belladonna’s eyes widened a fraction as the feeling of it came over her, and she quickly head butted him with all the force she could muster. He groaned, clutching his head, leaving him completely vulnerable to her attacks. She managed to twist her way from beneath him, hopping to her feet and grabbing the knife that had lodged into the wall. She sniffed harshly, grabbing his hair and tilting his head up, pressing the point of the blade just below his chin. He stared up at her, eyes half blazing with unspoken fury, the rest uncertainty of what to expect next.

“You surprise me, Marquis.”

He tried to move but her grip tightened onto his scalp painfully. “Ah-ah-ah. I don’t think so. Unless you want me to drain your neck.”

With an even more furious stare, he relented. She grinned at his expression.

“I gotta admit, I didn’t expect you to put up such a good fight. The last one I dealt with wasn’t half as good a match as you. I’m impressed.”

A strange swell of pride bloomed in Vincent’s chest despite his indignation. She hummed thoughtfully.

“Dinner does sound nice, doesn’t it?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, struggled to swallow in her hold.

“I haven’t been on a date in a while,” she remarked, “Maybe you’ll show me a good time, eh, chéri?”

She let him go, stepping back. Before he could respond, her knee collided with his head. The world went dark.

He came to in the afternoon with the sun beaming down on his face. The back door was wide open, leaving only the sound of birds and the breeze flowing through the golden-yellow grass. He popped his jaw and sat up with a groan. She was gone. If it weren’t for the blood and the dents in the wall he’d have thought it were nothing more than a dream. But he could smell gardenias, he could still taste her on his tongue. He could still feel her racing pulse beneath his thumb, hear her voice. He inhaled deeply, unsure what to think of the feeling passing through him. He couldn’t come to a conclusion, but he recalled something that caused him to smile.

She’d called it a date.

***

Paris, France. Two days later.

She was reclined on a park bench, eyes shut, taking in the sun while her black dress sparkled. He watched her a couple yards away, finding himself rather daunted. She’d told him over the phone he’d know where to find her, and it had taken barely twenty minutes for her to be tracked down. Despite their fight, she looked radiant. Completely unscathed. It was inhuman.

His phone buzzed, and he frowned as he answered. It was her. He glanced up curiously, seeing she had disappeared. He held the phone to his ear.

“Dragging our feet? I’m not a patient lady.”

His searched around for her, but she’d vanished into thin air.

“Go ahead, you can ask…how the hell did I do that?”

He listened to her soft chuckle through the phone with surprising pleasure.

“Come to me, and I won’t make you wait any longer.”

“Awe, listen to that. You’ve been so good at finding me, this shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“You are impossible,” he sighed, turning to scan the park.

“Impossible? This just part of the fun.”

The call ended, and he stared at the phone with slightly furrowed eyebrows. He looked to the bench, noticing something fluttering and went over to examine it. It was a note. He unfolded it, reading sweeping cursive. It was in french, but he knew she’d written it.

Come and get me, chéri. I am a ghost with many faces.

Vincent smiled, eyes crinkling. He pulled out his phone, making a call that was quickly answered.

“Where is she now,” he questioned.

There was a pause. “Well…sir…”

“Mm?”

“It seems like she’s at a cafe.”

“Alright—“

“She’s also at the Notre Dame.”

He hesitated to answer, but kept his cool. “I…see.”

“And the Louvre.”

He moved the phone away, smiling to himself. “A ghost with many faces.”

“Go get her,” he instructed, “Each one.”

Belladonna’s game led him across the entire city. Well, his men, but still. They called him reporting of notes that read ‘warmer’, ‘colder’, or ‘come on, you can do better than that’. Each of her clones proved to be as slippery as the original, and it gave him a thrill and a more subtle concern. He was aware what she was telling him, their game aside. She was showcasing her manpower—how perfectly coordinated her operation was. She wasn’t just a mere assassin, she had built her own network. He’d suspected help, although not to this scale of control. It was clear to him, though, why she’s wouldn’t accept any price. Leaders can’t be bought. She’d left The Table and had somehow managed to build one of her own.

When the evening had rolled in, he simply relented trying to track her down. It was impossible, he’d accepted it. Standing outside the restaurant he’d reserved, he called her.

“Alright, you win. I give up. Where are you, I’ll send a car.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “No need. Just come in.”

“Have you been inside this entire time?”

“God, no. How boring would that be?”

She hung up. He shook his head, going inside. “Mon dieu.”

When he’d entered, she was there waiting, smoking with her legs crossed. Her lips were crimson red like her nails and her hair was curled to a dazzling perfection. Still, as he approached from behind, he could see the bruises on her back and shoulders. He stopped next to her, brushing her hair away from her neck, revealing the bandage over his cut. She turned her head, met his eyes. They glittered as she looked over his face.

“You know, if a date was all you wanted, a whole lot more of your men would be alive right now,” she said.

“Hello to you too, Bella.”

He brushed the bandage with his finger, earning a stare from her. She was smiling at him.

“Why are you here?”

She looked away as if to think, then locked her gaze onto him. “Why are you?”

He smiled in return. “I imagine we’re here for the same reason.”

His fingertips brushed down her neck and over her shoulder as he moved to take the seat across from her. Her eyes followed him, smoke passing through her rouge mouth.

“Well, then.”

She leaned onto the table, eyeing him.

“Do we really need to have dinner, or should we just get out of here and get straight to it?”

A wicked grin spread across her mouth as she surveyed him. He cleared his throat, but smiled.

“I went through so much trouble to get you that dress, I’d hate to ruin it so soon.”

She laughed. “Oh, you’ll ruin it, will you?”

He pressed his stare onto her. “I’ll rip it right off of your body and devour you.”

Belladonna took in his words, absorbing his stare in her deep brown eyes. Her teeth bared in a wide, shimmering smile.

“Not if I eat you first.”

Her cigarette burned out as they were served the first course.

She ignored the food, her eyes fixed onto him. Something about being under her stare made him feel stiff in his bones. The closer he brought her, the more it felt like reaching into a fire. Her gaze was always so predatory. It gave him a thrill of familiarity, and the chill of it, too.

“Eat,” he told her, gesturing to her plate.

She glided her finger over her wine glass, then shook her head slowly, eyes daring him.

“I don’t think I will.”

He paused in annoyance, but couldn’t help how pleased the resistance made him feel. It was plain on her face, she was playing with him.

“Don’t be difficult, now. We’re just starting to get along.”

Her teeth gleamed again. “Or what?”

The response made him pause. He set down his fork, processing what the woman who’d nearly killed him two days ago had just said to him. He leaned towards her slightly, a smile playing on his lips.

“Is that what you want, yeah? You want to be in trouble?”

A soft laugh made her shoulders bounce as she sat back. The toe of her heel nudged his leg underneath the table.

“That depends. What happens when I’m in trouble, Monsieur?”

“You don’t want to be in trouble with me, Bella.”

The warning only spurred her further. “Oh, but I love a little trouble.”

“All you American girls love trouble, don’t you?”

“It’s our middle name,” she teased, “So you’d better be as bad as you say.”

Her eyes flitted from her eyes to his face, zeroing in on his cheek. He was surprised by the warmth that seemed to emerge in her eyes as she leaned forward, tracing the cut in his cheek with her cigarette holder. A soft smile spread across her face. She almost seemed gentle.

“Such a pretty cut,” she muttered, “don’t you like it? A pretty cut for a pretty face.”

“You think my face is pretty?”

She chuckled softly at him, leaning further and caressing the slice with her thumb.

“Of course it’s pretty, chéri,” she murmured, “That’s why I made it mine.”

Wordlessly, Vincent took her hand. He could feel the slight callouses on her knuckles and the bases of her fingers that had been softened by manicures. He turned her hand, pressing his lips against her fingers and kissing her knuckles.

“Si tu me fais tienne, je te ferai tenir.” If you make me yours, I’ll make you mine.”

She turned her hand, brushing her fingertips against his lips, trailing a finger down to his chest. Her fingers wrapped around his tie, and she tugged it out of his vest, carefully pulling him over the table and leaning in for a kiss. His breath caught in his chest and his eyes fell shut from the feeling of her lips against his. With a rotation of her hand she tightened her grip and pulled him closer. He kissed her deeper, tasting a hint of champagne in her mouth and feeling her shuddering breath against his when she broke the kiss for air. She took in his intense green eyes and caught her lower lip in her teeth.

“Alors fais-moi tienne, Vincent.” Then make me yours, Vincent.

“Ah, I thought you were not kept puppy,” he said, a grin threatening to form on his face.

She yanked him, raising a brow. “I am not.”

He gingerly held onto the table with a laugh. “Then what are you doing here?”

Belladonna loosened her hold, dropping the tie and considering him for a moment.

“You may not be able to make me your puppy, but you’re in danger of making me your woman.”

His eyes flashed, and a grin spread across his face. “It’s dangerous, is it?”

“There would be many who would start ringing a funeral bell for you if they heard the news.”

His gaze lowered to her lips. Vincent took her chin in his hand.

“Is that the price to make you mine? My life?”

“It would certainly be one I’d consider.”

“Then it’s the one I’m offering.”

She laughed, looking away. He turned her face to make her hold his burning stare. For a moment, her eyes softened. She seemed to hesitate despite how far she’d escalated the entire situation. But, soon after, she closed her eyes and placed another kiss on his lips.

“Then I’ll tell you again,” she whispered, “Fais-moi tienne, chéri.”

He kissed her firmly, letting out a sigh. “Come with me, Bella—now.”

The minute he’d gotten her in the back of his limousine he tore the slit in her dress up to her torso and pinned her to the ground, undoing his tie and holding her wrists together firmly.

“You’re not getting away this time,” his voice rumbled lowly, “I won’t let you get away.”

He bound her wrists together tightly, watching her skin chafe against its luxurious material. Her breath was trembling. Her skin was already hot for him.

His cock was already hard against her inner thigh—the string of desire had been tugging at him the moment he’d read that note. She let out a heavy sigh, pushing her hips up against him and lifting her arms over her head to drape them over his neck and pull him down to her. Their lips crashed together while her hips ground against him, and a soft moan spilled from her mouth into his as her body started to wrap around him. He kissed harshly down her neck, digging his fingers into her hips and pressing it back down onto the floor.

“Stay still—stay fucking still.”

A laugh bubbled in her chest. “Oh, you’re going to have to work much harder to keep me still, baby.”

He quickly removed his jacket and grabbed his butterfly knife from his waistband. He grazed her leg with the cool blade, admiring the flames of desire that sparked in her eyes from the mere contact. Delicately, he dragged the point down her inner thigh, stopping to watch how her chest rose and fell erratically. He guided the blade lower and lower over her hips, grinning at how they slightly bucked.

“Ah, you want it?”

Her fingers tangled in his hair as she gently pulled him back up to her lips. She opened her mouth against his with a moan, running her foot up the back of his leg.

“Just take me,” she whispered.

“Fuck, stop ordering me around,” he said, lips trembling against her collarbone as he laughed, “I might start to like it from you.”

“Then make me beg.”

He nicked the cut he’d made in her upper thigh, shuddering at the gasp she let out into his mouth. Without wasting even a millisecond he dragged his mouth down over her stomach—and ghosted over her cunt—to run his tongue along the weeping slice. He grabbed onto her as he made his way from the cut to between her legs. His lips brushed her clit and her body seemed to jump a little at the feeling. Vincent couldn’t control himself. He placed a kiss close to her aching core and relished in how her body seemed to quiver at the slightest touch.

“Look at you, so wet…”

He hesitated to leave her cunt alone, but planted a kiss on her hip and then sank his teeth into her, earning a yelp and a soft, lighter moan when he didn’t let up.

“Vincent,” she whispered.

He was close to getting what he wanted, he could tell.

“Yes, chérie?”

His fingers teased through the fabric of her lace underwear—she let out a soft mewl, making his eyes widen.

“You wear these lace panties for me, chérie? You were going to give it up to me that easy, like I already owned your little cunt?”

“Vincent…”

“Est-ce que c'est ça qui te fait mouiller, mon coeur, quand tu es en dessous de moi comme ci ? Quand tu sais que je peux faire ce que je veux de toi ?” Is that what makes you wet, my darling, when you’re beneath me like this? When you know I can do whatever I want to you?

She sounded almost anguished. “S’il te plaît, Vincent.”

“Ah, now I can get a please and a thank you? Is this why you’re so fucking disrespectful to me, Bella? You want to be punished like a filthy whore, then?”

“Oh,” she managed through weak laugh, “I’m definitely disrespectful because I’m a pompous bitch. Why do you think I’m the one that can’t be bought?”

“Mm, but you can be fucked, huh?”

She smiled widely, eyes falling shut.

“Only if they’re as pompous a bitch as me, monsieur.”

He moved away from her hip and went back to her cut, sucking on it hard enough to make a hickey. Her body arched at the sting of it and Vincent could feel her getting slick in her underwear.

“Beg,” he said, taking off the heels he’d bought for her, “Beg for me.”

The words left her mouth in a whisper. “Please, please, just fuck me.”

“Je ne t’entends pas, chérie.”

He closed his teeth around her waistband, pulling it taut and slicing the underwear open.

“C’mon, baby, please?”

“Don’t ask,” he instructed, “Beg.”

In his fervency he nearly pressed his mouth onto her as he tore the rest of the fabric off and laid eyes on her pussy. His teeth sank into his lower lip—this woman was going to be the death of him.

No. No. He had to take his time.

There was nothing guaranteed with La Belladonna, it was what they all said. He couldn’t waste the moment she was wide open and willing for him. He returned to her sweet lips, kissing her slowly, inhaling her scent. He kissed down her neck hungrily.

“Fuck, I need you,” she whispered, “Please, just fuck me. Please, please, Monsieur.”

“Mon dieu, you know exactly how to beg, too. How can one woman manage to push every single one of my buttons?”

“I’m not the only one with a type here, honey,” she said, smiling, “I get what I want, too.”

His hand snaked down to rub her clit—slowly, to take in her expression, her voice. She moaned, grabbing his hair, pressing her forehead against his cheek.

“Oh, god, Vincent. Please…please…”

His fingers slid inside her eagerly, curling and pulling back then thrusting deeper.

“Mm…Vincent…”

“Yes, baby, say it like that.”

His voice was soft against her ear. She melted into the floor of the limousine, her body easing against his hand, just they way he’d imagined it would.

“I knew you’d be a good girl, Bella, I just needed to give you a nudge—“

She gasped loudly at his fingers pumping harshly back inside of her.

“—In the right direction. Don’t you think?”

Her smile even shone in the feeble light the managed to get through the limousine’s tinted windows. She turned her head and kissed him. He returned it sloppily, his head pulsing with blood as his cock ached painfully. Her lips found his cheek, then his jaw, then her tongue grazed his neck, making him shiver. She closed her teeth around his earlobe and tugged harshly. He moaned into her hair, shutting his eyes. He needed her. He couldn’t even keep his head on fucking straight enough to tease her. Months he had to wait—months of clinging onto remnants of her scent, her red-stained cigarette butts and rivers of blood that trailed behind her—months that drove him fucking mad.

“God, you fucking woman.”

He tore his belt open, undid his pants and pulled his dick out, wetting it with her slick. He rubbed the head against her pussy, breath shuddering, mouth drying; he wasn’t sure if he’d survive making love with her, feeling the way his heart thundered out of his chest.

“Take me,” she whispered, “fuck me, Vincent.”

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He slid inside her gently, but once he felt her, he couldn’t be gentle anymore. His hips drew back and crashed into hers, making her groan loudly and move her hands back over her head. His thrusts were harsh, intense, but his hands slid into her hair affectionately. He kissed her skin like it was the first thing he’d ever tasted, her sweat tasted like sugar to him.

“Fuck, you taste like vanilla.”

Her hands returned to him unbound, and they slid under his shirt. She held onto him and wrapped her legs around his hips as her breath caught with each thrust. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to hang on for him, to have this moment last as long as it could. His body felt perfect against his, his warmth, his scent, his taste. She’d only said words earlier—of course no one kept La Belladonna for long— but he seemed to be the man that just may have the ability—

“Put your hand on my neck,” she whispered, voice shaking.

His hand caressed her neck delicately. She let out a sigh, closing her eyes. Yes, he just might be the one.

“Harder, please,” she whimpered.

“Anything, mon cœur.”

“Faster.”

Her voice was barely leaving her throat. Vincent’s hips moved quickly as he felt her tightening around him. He moaned again, sure his voice managed to reach outside of the windows.

“Fuck, you’re getting so tight, Bella, you’re going to kill me.”

Her nails dug into his back cruelly, pushing him even closer to the edge as the pain echoed throughout his entire back. He managed to reach down and rub her clit again, feeling how swollen it had gotten as her orgasm came closer.

“Come for me, Bella, come, baby,” he encouraged, his fingers working quickly.

She cried out, her voice breaking as she grabbed onto his shoulders. She was just at the edge, her mind was spinning wildly. Her words were unintelligible to him, he’d never caught onto Italian very well.

“Oh, mio caro, sì, sì, ah, cazzo, sì—“

Her legs tightened around him as he slammed his hips against her, watching how her mouth fell open, listening to her gasping breath.

“Sì—sì come questo, tesoro, oh…oh! Non fermarti, per favore, oh per favore—ngh—cazzo!”

He groaned as her pussy clenched around him and she let out a cry, her nails digging so hard into his skin they might’ve been drawing blood. He snapped his hips into her one last time and came—loudly—as he felt for her breasts and grabbed onto them, tried and failed to stay upright, then lowered, his body pressed up against hers.

They laid for an eternity, trying to catch their breath, trying to wait for their heads to clear. Vincent managed to move first and kissed her neck, inhaling the smell of her skin, feeling her pulse starting to slow down. She let out a heavy exhale, eyes opening.

“You are…”

She trailed off into silence for a moment.

“…Magnificent.”

Vincent chuckled, kissing her jaw softly, unable to speak just yet. She smiled.

“Ti terrò in giro per molto tempo, tesoro.”

“I don’t know Italian, Bella.”

She laughed. “I said I’m going to keep you around.”

They looked at each other, and he smiled.

“Oh, are you?”

“Oh yes, Monsieur…for a very long time.”

She lifted a finger, tapping his nose affectionately.

“You keep me, I keep you, Mademoiselle.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, smiling softly. “That arrangement just might be acceptable.”

He smiled. “I’m glad we could finally settle on an agreement.”

Her laugh was weak, but her eyes shone with that sardonic humor that had charmed him so. He slowly pulled out of her, gently sitting her up.

“Come with me. I will take you home so you can rest. We’ll have dinner.”

#marquis de gramont #amaranthine_enihtnarama #my wriitng #ao3 writer #marquis de gramont x reader #fanfic authors #john wick fanfic #john wick fandom #Spotify

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bellaturner · 1 year

Note

Could your write a fic where Alex and the reader have been best friends for years and she’s in love with him but she’s to afraid to tell him because he’s constantly getting new girlfriends and she feels like he doesn’t even look at her the same way anymore every time she tries to tell him he somehow is busy or something

Your writing is so good and I’m a whore for angst love you

A Certain Romance

Heeey, Anon! I truly loved working on this prompt! (I accidentally lost all track of time, spent 2 hours writing it, and got so late for class I gave up on going)

Anyways, I really hope you enjoy it 💕

Contains smut and angst

Summary: YN decides to confess her feeling for Al after getting jealous of his (many) girlfriends, risking their friendship.

Warnings: alcohol, dom Alex, praising, orgasm denial (not really), shouting, name calling, oral sex, dude it's just pure angst and smut...

2,7k words (it got bigger then what i intended, sorry)

Masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As Alex's words reverberated through the room, your heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst from your chest. His accusations hit you like a ton of bricks, each one piercing your skin like a needle. You had harbored feelings for him for so long, but you had been too afraid to confess them and risk losing the friendship that had been built over the years. And now, as he screamed at you, you could feel the walls closing in.

His anger was palpable, radiating from him like heat from a furnace. You tried to take a step back, to distance yourself from the painful words, but his presence was overwhelming, suffocating. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you struggled to find the words to defend yourself, to explain how you truly felt.

"You've been friendzoning me for years, YN!" Alex's voice boomed through the room, his hands raking through his hair in frustration. "I can't fucking believe you!" The tension in the air was thick, almost suffocating, and you felt the weight of it bearing down on your shoulders.

You felt the bile rise in your throat as you took a deep breath to steady yourself. "Oh shut up, Alex," you spat, your voice trembling with emotion. "How could I be friendzoning you when I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember, you dumb ass!"

But his response was like a slap in the face, a cruel twist of the knife. "Oh wow, what a great joke" the sarcasm in his voice dripped like venom, and you turned away, hoping to hide the tears that streamed down your face. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words had affected you, but the sobs that wracked your body betrayed you.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD, YN, ARE YOU CRYING?" Alex's voice rose to a deafening pitch, the anger and frustration almost palpable. You tried to take deep breaths to calm yourself, but the tears continued to stream down your face, blurring your vision.

"You're such a clown!" he continued, his voice dripping with contempt. "You decide to unload this shit on me now? Just when I got a new girlfriend and am leaving for a stupid tour tomorrow?" His words cut you, and you felt your friendship hanging by a thread.

But you couldn't keep the anger inside any longer. "Well, I'm fucking sorry that you're such a man-whore, showing up with a new girlfriend every couple of weeks!" The words felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, but the relief was short-lived. You knew that there was no going back from this.

"You've been a fucking mess since Alexa!" you added, your voice trembling with emotion. The words hit both of you deeper than you expected, and the tension in the room only continued to thicken. You could feel the weight of your unspoken feelings hanging over you like a dark cloud, and you wondered if there was any way to salvage what was left of your friendship.

But Alex was not having it. "You have no fucking right to say anything about her! Nor about my love life, YN," he growled, his voice dripping with anger and menace. He stepped closer, and your heart raced with fear.

"Do. You. Understand. YN?" he hissed, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you feel exposed and vulnerable.

You tried to apologize, to explain that you didn't mean what you said, but he cut you off. "Yeah, yeah. Save it for someone else. I know you hate Alexa and what she did to me." There was something in his eyes, a flicker. "What interests me, though, is your hate for the others"

As Alex loomed over you, his body language radiated aggression, and his words weighed heavily on you. You struggled to gather your thoughts as he inched closer, emitting a suffocating heat.

Despite your lack of reaction, Alex persisted in attacking your dislike of the others. His intense gaze weakened your knees, and you fought to maintain composure.

"I don't hate anyone, Al," you stuttered, attempting to calm him down. "I simply don't believe they're good for you."

In response, Alex sneered and scoffed, mocking your concern. "And you think you know what's best for me? Spare me the lies, YN. You don't know me."

His words cut deep, inciting a surge of hurt and anger within you. However, before you could retaliate, Alex stormed away, consumed by fury.

"What the hell do you mean? I've know you since we were kids, Alex!" you raised your voice, your anger grewing stronger by his unthought words. "And where the fuck are you going? We are not done here!" you followed him, just to end up on his private study, where he was pouring himself a glass of whisky. Not a shot, a whole glass.

"Yes we are, YN" he sounded angry and defeated.

"Like fuck we are, Turner. Talk to me, you can't just flip out like that and leave me here wondering if you'll ever talk to me again. I value our friendship too much" you vomited all at once.

There he was again, the angry, scary Alex "Why cant you just shut up!?" he shouted from the window. "You started this situation, you put me in this position, and now you want me to solve it?" he fired at you.

He was right, you had, indeed, ruined your friendship. As you sat down behind his desk, you accepted your defeat. But he wasn't going to let you go that easily. He downed the whisky glass all the once.

"Unbelievable. I can't believe you kept this from me for so long," he muttered, his voice rough and hoarse as he poured himself another shot of whiskey, his hands shaking with anger and frustration.

You could feel the tension in the air, and your heart raced with anticipation and fear. Alex was unpredictable when he was angry, and you didn't want him to hurt your feelings anymore than he already had.

"I'm sorry, Alex," you said softly, hoping to diffuse the situation. "I didn't know how to tell you. I was afraid of losing our friendship."

"You think telling me after all these years won't ruin our friendship?" he snapped, his eyes burning with rage. "You had your chance, YN. You had your chance and you blew it."

"I know I messed up," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "But we can still salvage our friendship. We just need to talk it out."

"Talk it out?" he repeated, his voice rising with every word. "You think we can just talk it out after this? After you kept this from me for so long? You're delusional, YN."

As he spoke, you could feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes again. You never meant to hurt him, but it seemed like everything you did just made things worse.

"You're right, Alex," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I messed up. I should have told you earlier. I just hope you can forgive me."

He didn't respond, just poured himself a third shot and downed it in one gulp. The silence was deafening, and you could feel the weight of his anger and disappointment bearing down on you.

Just when you thought he was going to explode again, he surprised you by grabbing your waist and pulling you towards him, making you get up. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, his kiss rough and demanding.

As you pushed him away, the heat of the moment dissipated and confusion took over. Your mind raced as you struggled to make sense of what just happened. "What the hell, Alex? You can't just kiss me like that after everything you just said!" you exclaimed, your voice shaking.

"Why not?" he shot back, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and desire. "You wanted this too, YN. Admit it."

Your frustration grew as you struggled to find the right words to respond. "That's not the point!" you finally managed to say, your mind still clouded with confusion. "You can't just switch between being angry and then trying to kiss me. It's not fair."

But before you could say anything more, he whispered, "Watch me," and pulled you in for another kiss. You knew you shouldn't, but his lips on yours were irresistible. You felt your hands instinctively find their way to the back of his head, pulling on his hair as you deepened the kiss, making him pull away.

"If you think you have any type of upper hand in this situation, you are deeply mistaken, love," he said, holding your wrists above your head as he stared deeply into your eyes. And then, he went in for another kiss, more demanding and passionate than before, as if he wanted to consume every inch of you.

His lips were insistent and demanding, and you couldn't help but melt into his embrace. The anger and frustration you felt just moments ago were replaced by a burning desire that seemed to consume your every thought.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he held you up against the wall, his hands roaming all over your body. You moaned into his mouth, unable to resist his touch.

"You're mine now," he said, his voice low and possessive. "And you're going to do exactly what I say." You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, both scared and excited at the same time. You nodded, but it wasn't enough for him.

"Use your fucking words, YN. You were full of them just now" he said, grabbing your cheeks and forcing you to look at him.

You could feel his intense gaze on you, his eyes locking onto yours as he waited for your response. "Yes, Al," you breathed out, your voice shaky with desire. "I'm yours. Tell me what to do."

A smirk played at the corners of his mouth, pleased with your submission. "Good girl," he murmured, his fingers trailing down your neck and over your collarbone. "First, I want you to strip for me. Slowly. I want to see every inch of your body."

Your heart raced at his command, but you didn't hesitate. You reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Alex's eyes widened with appreciation at the sight of your bare chest, and you could feel his gaze burning into you. You continued to undress, shedding your pants and bra, leaving yourself only in panties.

"Turn around," he ordered, and you obeyed, presenting your back to him. He trailed his fingers down your spine, causing you to shiver with anticipation. "Now, on your knees."

You complied, sinking to the ground as he stood over you. "Good. Now, show me how much you want me." His words echoed in your mind as you knelt before him, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable.

You knew what he wanted, and a part of you was hesitant, but the desire in your body overruled any sense of hesitation. With shaky hands, you reached up to unbuckle his belt, slowly pulling it off and dropping it to the floor.

You could see the bulge in his pants growing larger, and you knew that you were the reason for it. You reached for his zipper, sliding it down and freeing him from his underwear. His arousal was undeniable, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of power knowing that you were the one causing it.

With a flick of his wrist, Alex removed his shirt, revealing his toned chest and arms. He placed a hand on the back of your head, guiding you closer to him.

"Go ahead, YN," his voice low and seductive. "You wanted this, now you got it, so behave like the good little slut that you are. Don't be a brat" he said as he held your hair in a ponytail, forcing your head against his center.

You didn't hesitate, wrapping your lips around him and taking him in as deep as you could. The taste of his saltiness filled your senses, and you didn't flinch when he tightened his grip on your head. The sensation of him inside you was all-consuming, and you moaned with pleasure, sending vibrations through his body.

"Good girl," he praised, his fingers entwining in your hair. "That's it, baby, keep going."

As his member throbbed in your mouth, sending shivers down your spine, he abruptly pulled your head back, eliciting a satisfying "pop" that echoed through the room. With a devilish grin, he looked down at you and uttered, "I want it all, sweetheart. As much as I crave the idea of coating your lips and watching you gulp it down, I also want to fuck you like it's my last fucking day on earth."

The raw intensity of his words sent a surge of desire coursing through your body, making you ache for more. Without hesitation, you stood up. His hand trailed down your back, over your ass, and then swiftly removed your panties.

"Bend over the desk and spread your legs," he demanded, and you quickly obeyed, positioning yourself as he instructed. He ran his hands over your folds, feeling the wetness that had already started to pool there. "God, you're already so wet, baby," he murmured before plunging two fingers inside you. You moaned loudly as your walls tightened around him, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure.

His hot breath caressed your neck as his fingers worked you, sending shivers down your spine. "You're such a whore, aren't you? Getting turned on by me using you like this," he growled, his fingers curling inside you, pushing you closer to the edge.

As he kept working his fingers inside you, you felt the heat building up, and you knew you were on the brink of orgasm. Your moans became louder and more frequent, his name escaping your lips.

"Don't you dare come yet, YN," he growled into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Please, Alex," you pleaded, unable to resist the overwhelming need for him. "I need you inside me."

"Be a doll and beg for it, then" he commanded, his fingers moving with a mesmerizing rhythm, driving you closer to the edge.

"Please, Alex," you begged, feeling your need for him growing more urgent with each passing moment. "I need you inside me. I need to feel you filling me up."

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Well, since you asked so nicely," he said, withdrawing his fingers and positioning himself at your entrance. With a sharp slap on your ass, he quickly filled you up in one swift motion.

You gasped at the suddenness of it, feeling him stretch you to your limits. He gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back onto him with each thrust. You moaned with pleasure as he pounded into you, hitting all the right spots.

"You feel so good, baby," he groaned, his pace quickening. "I can't fucking believe we haven't done this before"

You were lost in the sensations, the pleasure radiating through every nerve in your body. You pushed back against him, meeting his every thrust with eagerness and need.

He leaned over you, his hand reaching around to rub your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you.

"Come for me, baby," he growled in your ear. "Come all over me cock." You felt yourself hurtling towards the edge, the pleasure building and building until it finally crashed over you in waves. You cried out his name as you came, your body convulsing around him.

He thrust a few more times before releasing himself inside you with a groan, and collapsing onto your back. Leaving both of you panting and covered in sweat.

As you caught your breath, he pulled out of you and helped you stand up, his hands still roaming over your body.

"You're so fucking amazing," he whispered, pressing kisses to your neck. You leaned back into him, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

This was what you craved, the feeling of being completely dominated by him. And in that moment, you knew that you were his, completely and utterly.

After a few moments of basking in the afterglow, he turned you around to face him, cupping your face with his hands.

"I meant what I said earlier, YN," he said, his voice serious. "I want you to be mine. I want to take care of you and make you feel good every day."

You looked up at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I want that too, Alex," you said, smiling up at him.

He leaned in and kissed you deeply, his hands tangling in your hair. As he pulled away, he looked at you with a soft expression.

"Good," he said. "Because I'm not letting you go now."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Let me know how big you guys like these things to be, please.

Hope you liked this one hehehe 💕

#request #anon request #alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner one shot #alex turner smut #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #one shot #arctic monkeys #alex turner x you #fem reader #angst #alex turner angst

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ksharoly · 3 months

Text

Crown of the heir

crown are like headbands they make you look pretty and nice but crown's are the symbol of power and reign once it's place in your head the duties will also be placed in you as well.

"if i was a queen i will make men's bow" you changeling said to your mother.

"you will bore a king you're a women" your mother said as she fix your hair and clothes.

your mother was not very fond of you since she expects her first child to be a boy and not a girl she would scream at you for holding a sword since that day you been sneaking to the training area to hold a sword.

"no women have ever sit a throne" your mother said.

"rhaenyra will soon sit in the throne isn't she" you said while reading your book.

"she's no queen your the queen"

"isn't that stealing mother that's make me a usurper of the throne" you plainly said as continue to read your books.

"what's going on inside your head you should be thankful that i raised you and feel you bathe you" your mother angrily said.

"did I ask for it you despite me as your daughter your heir did that look like love to you oh by the way you didn't feed me or bathe me the maids did" you said as you shut your book.

"your under my roof as long as you in here you have no right to speak to me like that" your mother said pointing a finger at you.

"isn't this my home to its also my right to speak freely" you said.

"your my heir for now but once i gave birth to a boy your no longer my heir"

the door shut as you sit thinking that what did you ever do to them that they treated you this bad tear's falling down your cheeks.

their has been a news that king viserys have been sick and the days goes longer he's body weaken surely after he passed away the heir will eventually sit to the throne.

"its time the king will die and his oldest child aegon will sit to the throne and you will be the queen isn't that amazing finally your bringing power to this family" your mother said.

"your not sure about that didn't he named his heir rhaenyra" you said.

"oh the whore of dragon stone" your mother rolled her eyes.

when night comes you sneak outside of the house and explore the city with your red Cloak and a hidden knife in case.

when you were exploring you bumped into someone you quickly apologize but as you recognize his face he was aegon the eldest son of king viserys.

"well my prince aren't you supposed to be asleep" you said.

"as well as your my princess" aegon said.

"well do you want company you seemed lonely" you said as you two outside the border of King's landing near the ocean.

" of course my princess it's been a long time since we met" aegon said.

"your going to be king you know" you said as you watch the waves of the ocean.

"I don't wanna be a king" aegon stated as furrowed his eye brows.

"but that's what your mother wants"

"she didn't even asked me if ever wanted to be a king it's like I'm just a pawn to her" aegon said as the sadness took over him.

"well aren't we the same forced to be something we don't want" you said as you caress his face.

"I was also forced to be perfect smile like an princess bow to many dance for a lot"

aegon was sad that you need to in that horrible family forced into something that your uncomfortable with.

"i want the crown to be give to someone else that is soo much worthy than me" aegon stated.

"and who might that be my prince"

"my sister rhaenyra targaryen the true heir to the throne" aegon said as you two spend the night in the ocean.

that day raven was sent to the black as aegon wrote to her sister as the letter said my dear sister rhaenyra true heir to the iron throne yield to you that i will no longer come to the crown as i will be peacefully be a prince and wish to marry y/n huxley.

"well isn't this magnificent my wife aegon didn't want the crown alicent wanted the crown" daemon said as he read the letter.

"send a letter to aegon i wish to meet him and his lover" rhaenyra said smiling as thanks to the old god that she will finally be in good terms with her siblings.

as aegon open the letter he reads it and said my dear brother as you and your lover y/n come here you must bend the knee to me and i will take you all back to my heart.

when aegon and y/n come to rhaenyra they both bend the knee to her as the prove of loyalty to the realm and her the queen.

"oh dear brother" rhaenyra said as he hugged him aegon was stunned he never received any hugs from his family as he hug back.

"welcome to the family" jacaerys said as he also hug him.

"aren't you his lover you two will make such a great couple" daemon said as he shake hands with y/n.

"thank you my king" you said.

"well aren't you lovely my dear blessings for your wedding" rhaenyra said as she hugged you.

"thank you my queen it's such an honored to be blessed by you"

"no problem my dear"

as the coronation of rhaenyra you all attend to it as you wear a beautiful black dress as aegon wear black Alicent and rhaenyra made up as the house of targaryen was finally one.

the next following day you and aegon wed the wedding was held up at the dragon stone as you are now y/n targaryen the lady of dragon stone with her husband aegon Targaryen lord of dragon stone.

but one day your mother suddenly barged in rage as she shouted at you.

"YOU WHORE YOU'VE RUIN MY PLAN" you mother said as she shouted at you

"isn't this want you wanted" you said as you furrowed your eye brows.

"you're supposed to be bringing power to your family not this freaking bullshit"

"i did bring the power and that power choose me" you said.

"what kind of huxley are you! being selfish brat" your mother said.

"im no longer a huxley im a targaryen a lady of dragon stone and i will take anything that you took from me" you said.

your mother was furious as she takes out a knife and cuts your arm as soon as that happens the door open and the guards hold her aegon Rush to your side and look at your wound.

"take her out as this day comes that thing will not enter here" aegon said angry towards your mother.

since that day you erase the terrible moments that happened to you and live your life with your husband together you two have 5 children and live peacefully.

"There can be no failure to a man who has not lost his courage, his character, his self respect, or his self-confidence. He is still a King".

#house of the dragon #the house of dragon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #hotd x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #heleana targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon #lucaerys velaryon #viserys targaryen #Spotify

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desert-fern · 11 months

Text

A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 9: Glowing in the Dark

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

A/N: Chapter title is from the song Glowing in the Dark by The Girl and The Dreamcatcher.

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

Warnings: large knife (not actually used, it's just there), should just be pure fluff and filler

Word Count: 2.4k

Masterlist >> Part 8 >> Part 10

===

The day flew by. By the time night fell, Bear’s team were passed out in their beds, trying desperately to get enough sleep to tide them over for the next few days ahead of them. The cool night air beat back the heat of the desert as Bear crept past the other rooms to sit out on the fire escape, allowing herself just to sit and breathe, releasing the tension in her body.

The lights from the base cast long dark shadows across the pavement. From where she sat, Bear could see the lights in distant buildings slowly shutting off, people leaving offices, conference rooms and emerging from wherever they had hidden themselves away during the day. A stream of voices rose up as she watched a group of mechanics leave a hangar in the distance, joy and playfulness in full expression, even if she couldn’t make out what they were saying. It brought her a sense of peace the longer Bear sat out on the fire escape, watching lights flicker on, beating back the growing shadows.

She didn’t know how long she had been sitting outside when the door she had propped open swung out suddenly, startling her. “Hey.”

Whipping her head around, her hand clutching onto the large knife she carried with her, Bear saw that it was just the blond pilot who had haunted her every waking hour. “Jesus Christ Flyboy, don’t you know any better? I could have seriously hurt you,” she admonished, muscles relaxing slightly.

“Sorry,” Jake replied. “I didn’t mean to. I just saw the door open and figured that I should close it. You okay?”

Bear shook her head, scoffing a little at his words. “I’m fine, but I swear to God Jake, don’t do that again,” she warned him, finally taking a moment to take in his appearance. “How are you holding up? I know that Mav really put you all through the paces today.” When he gave her a curious look, Bear shrugged before replying “We share our plans for training with each other. It keeps us on the same page.”

Jake nodded. He had been distracted for most of the day, thinking about the woman in front of him. How she could take control of almost any situation, how her voice had sounded through his headset, the look she had given him, all wide eyed and surprised when they had been goofing around in her room. Everything about her made him crazy. “Mind if I sit?”

“Sure, why not?” Bear shuffled over a little, making room for the man to fold himself up and sit next to her. “Are you okay?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah, for the most part. Just trying to make sense of everything,” Jake admitted. “I’ve done mission assists before, but just how big this one actually is, is a lot to wrap my head around.”

Nudging his arm with hers, Bear smiled. “I get it. Even I have the same thoughts before some of these assignments. This is a big operation. Bigger than anything I’ve done in a long time. Three targets in one place? It’s practically unheard of.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. A standard op is usually one major target or a few lower levels. Nothing like this.”

“Are you scared?”

Bear chuckled. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be human.” She glanced over at the man next to her, smiling softly. “Are you?”

“Scared or human?” Jake teased lightly, knocking shoulders with her. She huffed, shaking her head, but he could just make out the sparkling glee in her eyes. “Don’t ever breathe a word of this to anyone because I will make you regret it, but yeah, I think I’m scared too.”

“Will you now?” Bear grinned, the expression sobering a little. “Can I ask why? Or will you ‘make me regret this’ one too?”

The man beside her took a deep breath. “Is it weird if I don’t know why?”

“Nope.”

They sat in silence for a while, each savoring the closeness they had to one another and the peace that the fire escape gave them. Bear snuck a glance at Jake, only to find that he was already watching her. She shot him a wink, turning back to gaze out at the few buildings in the distance, only visible due to the powerful lights scattered throughout the base itself. The general calm settled her. It gave her respite from the chaos in her mind, her thoughts had been circling like vultures all day and just being here, present in the moment soothed her like a balm.

Jake was the first to break the silence. “So how is it that you know so much about me and other than what we talked about weeks ago on the beach, I know next to nothing about you?”

“Because you never asked?” Bear replied, laughing a little. She turned her body towards him, crossing her legs up under herself. “What did you want to know?”

“I don’t know, anything you want to tell me.”

“Well, that’s specific as fuck,” she teased.

Jake laughed, eyes dancing with the same humor and light she knew had lit up her own. “Fair enough. Fair enough. Umm…it just clued in that I don’t actually know your name. What is it?”

Bear bit her lip, stifling her giggle. “I’m that mysterious, huh?” He gave her a flat stare that just made her laugh louder. “Fine,” she gave in, before telling him. She watched as Jake repeated it back to her, grinning as he did.

“Why are you grinning?”

“Because it suits you.”

Bear’s face split into a grin. “Thanks, I got it for my birthday.”

Jake groaned, dropping his head to his chest as he shook with laughter. He could feel Bear chuckling from where her shoulders touched his. “That was terrible,” he said after his laughter stopped. “Like really terrible.”

“Well now you know what my sense of humor is,” came her reply. She was quiet for a long moment before softly saying “It’s nice actually talking to you. The real you. Not the jerk you pretend to be.”

He paused. “How do you know it’s pretend?” The question was hesitant, almost like he couldn’t believe that someone could see past how he carried himself.

Bear shuffled closer, pressing her side to his. “Because I see you. I’ve seen the way you act around other pilots, around people who know the reputation.” She hummed, trying to find the words to explain it. “I guess I don’t really know, ya know? All I know is how you choose to carry yourself, and if I can have more than one side of myself, why can’t you?”

Jake turned to look at the woman next to him. She wasn’t looking at him, seemingly embarrassed by her words. “Teddy?”

“Yeah?” she managed to squeak out.

“Thanks for not treating me like I’m not…you know.” The usual confidence and swagger in his voice had been replaced by a soft tone, one that seemed fearful of judgment.

Meeting his eyes, Bear nodded. Her heart raced as she gazed upon his face, taking note of every freckle, every little thing that made Jake so uniquely Jake. It would be so easy, she thought, to just lean over and press her lips to his, so easy to act on the feelings that rippled in the diminishing space between them. Her eyes fluttered closed, slowly withdrawing herself from where she’d leaned in. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I just… I can’t just…”

“I know.”

A small pause before Bear replied “I wish it was different.”

“I do too,” Jake whispered, leaning back against the building. It took everything in him to not say “Fuck it” and kiss her, but rules were rules. Bear could be dismissed from her position, or worse and he would never be the cause of that. In the end, it was her choice, her decision and regardless of how Bear chose, Jake promised himself that he would be happy with it. Because a life without her presence would be incredibly boring. “God Teddy, I wish that so much about this situation was different.”

“Yeah.” She looked ashamed of her actions, curled in on herself, fiddling with the knife beside her as she tried to push her feelings away. An action that was becoming increasingly difficult the longer she spent with Jake. A few deep breaths later, Bear turned back to him. “God, why do we do this to ourselves?”

He huffed a laugh. “Because both of us were trained to be the best of the best, so that’s what we want and look for. I think. I kinda just made that up.”

It was her turn to laugh. “That sounds about right. I really want to not focus on the sad shit right now because how the fuck am I supposed to lead my team if I have this conversation roaming through my head at every moment?”

“If that is what it takes for me to know that you feel the same, then I encourage it,” Jake joked, grinning widely as she rolled her eyes.

“Be serious.”

“I am.”

Another eye roll. “Let’s get off this topic, please?” Bear finally looked back at him, and Jake swore his heart stopped. Her eyes glimmered in the dark, the minimal light creeping out from the hallway shining on her. She looked soft, comfortable, something he’d only seen once at her home and Jake swore never to forget it.

“Fine, but only because you said please,” Jake teased, bumping her arm with his.

“People do what I tell them to because I have a few more bars and medals on my whites, I don’t usually need to say please,” Bear replied, her tone full of humor.

Jake shot her a wink. “I’ll make sure to remember that.”

This man would be the death of her. “Gross.”

The classic Seresin smirk flashed across his face. But she cut him off with a look that reminded him of the look Phoenix gave him sometimes when he was being a dick. So Jake kept his mouth shut and wiggled his eyebrows to make her giggle. “So, borrowing a question from my niece, what’s your favorite dinosaur?”

Bear gave him a confused look. “What kind of question is that?”

“My 4 year old niece asks that question to everyone she meets. I figured I’d give it a try,” Jake told her, shrugging. “So I’ll say it again, what’s your favorite dinosaur?”

“Oh god. Umm… I might have to say either a Velociraptor or an Ankylosaurus. You?”

Jake grinned at her. “One, the fact that you could name two is impressive. Two, I’m going to have to tell you that the only right answer in her mind is the Stegosaurus or the Mosasaurus, but I have always preferred pterodactyls.”

“And you became a pilot, how original…” Bear teased. “Let me guess, you loved planes as a kid too?”

“Sort of? I liked all kinds of things,” he replied. “I’m pretty sure I jumped back and forth between firefighter, football player, or pilot for most of my childhood.”

She gave him an indecipherable look. “Somehow those make sense for you.”

“Really? Even the football player?”

“Especially that one.”

His green eyes narrowed, but the playful gleam that had been in his eyes from the start still remained. “I’m not sure I like where that is headed, Miss Teddy.”

“Too bad, Mr. Flyboy,” she replied, an innocent look taking over the teasing grin. “You are just going to have to deal with it.”

“You wound me, darlin’.”

“Better you than me. Is it my turn to ask a question?”

“If you want to, although I’d be surprised if you didn’t already know the answer,” he said, a teasing look in his eye.

“Shut up. Anyways, how many siblings do you have?”

“Four. Two older, two younger.”

Bear cringed a little. “Your poor mother must be a saint if all of your siblings are as bullheaded as you.”

“Where do you think we got it from?”

She gave him a curious look. “Fair enough. It would take a stubborn woman to raise you,” Bear teased, bumping his arm. “I kid, I kid. But she sounds wonderful.”

“She really is,” Jake told her with a faraway look in his eyes. “I owe a lot to her.”

“I’m sure you do,” she replied. “What about your siblings?”

“What about them?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, what are they like?”

Humming in thought, Jake looked over at her. “Well, it’s two boys, three girls total. My brother Lewis has two kids, the niece with the dinosaur question is his daughter,” he began before going off on a tangent and telling her all about his siblings. Jake told her how his youngest sister had a scar on her nose from running into a door, he told her about his childhood pets and she listened patiently, chiming in every so often with another question.

Jake fell silent after a while, sneaking a glance towards the Seal. He met her gaze and grinned as her face split into a yawn. “We really should be going to bed. It’s going to be a long few days,” Bear said softly.

“Probably a good idea. Can’t have the Commander dozing off in the final briefing, not a good look,” Jake replied. He sat up, stretching, letting out a groan as his shoulders popped.

Bear flushed a little at the sound, pushing away the thoughts that sprung to mind. “Definitely not a good look,” she agreed.

By this point, Jake had maneuvered his way up, holding out a hand to help her up, which she took without hesitation. The force of him helping her up was a little too much as she had to brace herself against him, her palms coming to rest flat on his broad chest and she felt his breathing hitch. “Sorry,” she murmured, risking a glance up at his face. His bright green eyes were on her, pupils dilated.

Clearing his throat, he stepped back, steadying her. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m just gonna…” She pointed to the door, snatching up the knife and slipping through the open door, leaving Jake alone with his thoughts.

“Pull yourself together,” the blonde man mumbled, rubbing his face before walking through the open door, shutting it behind him. God, these next few days would be long.

But he didn’t know how much truth there actually was to that last statement.

===

A/N: We are 2 chapters out from the actual mission! Thank you to @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s and @dakotakazansky for proof-reading and yelling at me.

Taglist: @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @dakotakazansky @horseshoegirl @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @lavenderbradshaw @roosterforme @bobby-r2d2-floyd @bradleybeachbabe @twsssmlmaa @footprintsinthesxnd @fandomxpreferences @dempy @gizmodear @fighterpilothoe @eli2447 @chaoticassidy @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @djs8891 @rhirhikingston @sisterslytherinog @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @thegoddessc @sgt-barnesveins @taytaylala12 @urmom-999 @formulapierre @pinkpantheris

*As usual, lmk if you want to be added or removed from the taglist*

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angelasscribbles · 3 months

Text

What Once Was

Fandom: Vying for Versailles (Romance Club)

Summary: Renee married someone else. But what happens when Alexandre comes back into her life?

“Madame, you have a visitor.”

Renée looked up from her writing desk curiously. She hadn’t been expecting anyone. “Who is it, Beatrice?”

Beatrice had served Renee since she had first set foot in Versailles all those years ago. She had risen from lady’s maid to maîtresse d'hôtel. Her duties now involved overseeing all the other household servants at Chateau de Marly.

“It’s Monsieur Bontemps, Madame.”

The door to the study swung wide as the mistress of house backed away, revealing Alexandre, his fingers twisting nervously at the hat clasped in his hands.

Renee rose from her desk with surprised delight and swept across the room to greet him with a hug. “Alexandre! This is a pleasant surprise! Wait….” She drew back with a worried crease across her brow, “Is all well? The king—”

“The king is fine, Madame.”

Her good mood faltered as her eyes tracked his face noting the agitation in his stance. Very little rattled the king’s spymaster. “Then why are you here?”

“I was hoping we could have a private conversation.” His eyes darted around the room. “May I come in?”

“Certainly, but I think we would be more comfortable in the small sitting room.” She stepped out of the study and led him down the hallway to the smallest of the sitting rooms. It was cozy, plush, and private.

She gave Beatrice instructions to send a maid in with tea service then she shut the door. Turning back to him, she crossed her arms and studied him closely.

He was fidgety, clearly wound up about something, which was completely out of character for him. She couldn’t help the smile that crawled across her face as she took in his agitation. “Do I still make you nervous, Alexandre?”

“You do have a way of knocking my equilibrium off balance, Madame.” He gave her a small smile.

The affection and heat in his gaze sent butterflies exploding through her stomach. “That is good to know, Monsieur.”

He arched an eyebrow skeptically, “You think me indifferent to you?”

“Perhaps.”

“I could never be indifferent to you.” The pure, undisguised longing on his face sent shivers cascading down her spine.

There was a brief lull in their conversation as the tea was served. Renee watched the maid retreat as she stirred her tea. With her eyes focused on the cup in her hand, she softly said, “You should have stayed.”

“Renee…I couldn’t stay in close proximity to you knowing I could never touch you again.”

She glanced up at him and her tone was sharp as she told him, “Those were the choices you made.”

He sighed as he carefully sat his cup on the table. It was the same argument they’d had before he had left for Geneva to serve the king’s interest in Switzerland. “You didn’t choose me.”

“I did. I simply didn’t choose only you,” she reminded him. “And it’s not like you were ever going to marry me anyway.”

“A spymaster—”

“I know. Believe me, I remember all your excuses.”

“They weren’t excuses.”

“Weren’t they?”

He didn’t answer. He had told her that they could never be a couple. He hadn’t had a noble title back then and his work made it almost impossible to conduct a love affair. But when she had accepted a proposal from the Prince du Sang, it had felt like a knife plunged into his heart.

He drew in a deep breath and decided to tell her the truth. “There’s something you don’t know, Renee. I did approach Louis about a possible match. The king had been offering to ennoble me for years. I thought, maybe…”

Renee jerked in surprise, nearly spilling her tea in the process, “What?”

“My request was rejected out of hand and when Philippe got down on one knee in front of the entire court a mere day later, I understood why.”

Louis loved him like a brother. But Philippe was his brother. And he had probably asked first. The prince was a better match for her anyway. He knew that.

Renee quickly sat her cup down and tried to quell the shaking in her hands. “Alexandre…why didn’t you tell me?”

“After witnessing firsthand your pure joy at accepting another man’s proposal? What would have been the point?” He had, instead, determined to keep his distance from her.

And yet when their paths crossed, he had found that he still could not resist her. “Do you remember that night in Paris, right before your wedding?”

Madame de France, princess, duchess, and marquise did not blush easily, but her cheeks colored at the reminder. “Of course I do. But why are you bringing that up? Why are you bringing any of it up now?”

“Pardon?”

“Why discuss these things now? After all this time?”

“Ah, yes.” And here was the reason for his visit. “Do you remember when you told me that you would recognize me anywhere?”

“Yes. And you said the same. What does that have to do with why you’re here?”

“Only that I by chance saw you last time I was in Paris on the king’s business. I only saw your profile as you climbed into your carriage, but I knew it was you.”

“And you didn’t think to say hello?”

“I started to but then I saw your son.”

“Louis-Philippe?”

“Yes. One of the servants handed him up into the carriage to you and I got a clear view of his face, Renee.”

Her heart stopped. “And?”

“And he favors neither the prince nor a certain count that you are overly fond of.”

She ignored his reference to Armand as her heart started to thump even harder. She knew exactly who the child favored but she wasn’t going to make this easy on him. Her hands and her voice were steady as she looked him directly in the eye. “What are you asking me, Alexandre?”

“Is he….is he mine?”

She jumped up from her seat and stalked across the room to stare out the window. After a long pause, she replied, “You are not a father in the way that Philippe is. You do not tuck him into bed at night nor ease his fears when the thunder booms. He does not know you.”

He stood and followed her across the room, resting a hand on her shoulder. “That’s not what I’m asking, and you know it.”

Without turning to look at him, she whispered, “Yes, he was conceived that night in Paris.”

Alexandre’s world tilted on its axis. He had known, of course, the moment he had seen the child’s face. But to have confirmation…. He dropped his hand and stepped away from her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Anger flared through her as she spun to face him and flung his own words back at him. “What would have been the point? You ran away from me fast enough the moment you didn’t like my choices.”

“But a child, Renee!”

“By the time I knew I was with child, I was already married! What would you have had me do? Put it in a letter so your enemies could use it against us both? You well know how easy it is to intercept correspondence.”

He nodded in acquiescence. He could not fault her logic. “And the Prince du Sang... does he….”

“Philippe knows. He does not care.”

“I find that hard to believe, Madame.”

“Did you think we were cuckolding him every time we were together?”

“Well…”

“I told you, before he even proposed, what our arrangement was!”

“Yes, but I—”

“You what? You thought I was lying?” She stepped closer. So close she could smell the vanilla and cardamom scent that always clung to him. So close that she could feel the heat radiating from him, sense the tension in his body, “I may lie to everyone else in service to my king and my country, but I have never lied to you nor him! I do not lie to the people that I love.”

Alexandre froze, shock, pleasure, and disbelief coursing through him at her words. She loved him?

Oblivious to his reaction to her unintentional confession, she plowed on. “And your assertation that I would have divided loyalties was preposterous! My loyalty to my husband would never put me at cross purposes with you, Alexandre and you know it! Philippe loves his brother and is loyal to him. Furthermore, I do not tell him everything that I know or that I do. He understands and respects the need for discretion when it comes to my duties as a spymaster! He would never ask me to betray—”

“Alright! Alright!” He held both hands up in surrender with a bemused chuckle.

“It’s not funny, Alexandre!” She stood in the middle of the room, just inches from him, cheeks red and chest heaving with emotion.

He was struck nearly speechless by her beauty. She was even more breathtaking when she was angry. How was that possible? He took an involuntary step toward her.

She froze, her eyes trained on him, but she didn’t back away.

He took another step toward her, this one purposeful.

They stood, unmoving, staring into each other’s eyes; two hearts pounding in anticipation. He lifted a hand and reached out for her just as the sitting room door banged open.

“There you are, my love! I—oh! I didn’t realize we had company.” The prince stopped short, causing the chevalier who had been hot on his heels to collide into his backside.

Alexandre jerked his hand back and stepped away awkwardly. “My prince! I…” he executed a low bow. “So lovely to see you again.”

Philippe’s eyes took in the valet’s flushed and guilty expression and then his wife’s stoic demeanor. Renee had not backed away when he entered the room. She had stood her ground. Her ire was evident and he smothered a smile. He understood everything. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Alexandre, but let’s not pretend you came here for me.”

“I….” For the first time in his life, Alexandre was struck completely speechless.

Renee finally moved, closing the distance to greet her husband with a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. She murmured in his ear, “He knows about Louie.”

“Hm,” he hugged her back, but his gaze was trained on his brother’s spymaster.

Renee moved around her husband to greet the chevalier with the same hug and kiss she had just given her husband. “How was grouse hunting?”

“As usual, we didn’t find a single grouse but at least we didn’t end up drunk in a fountain again.” The chevalier laughed at his own joke as he returned her hug. Not a day passed that he didn’t count his blessings.

There had been a time when the king had been adamant that Philippe make a political marriage, likely to some English noblewoman who would expect fidelity from him. He would forever be grateful that Louis had allowed the prince to marry Renee and that Renee had never blinked at the relationship between the two men. Now he practically lived at Chateau de Marly and was both a godfather and cherished uncle to their son. They functioned very well as a threesome and while his whole heart belonged to the prince, he wasn’t completely indifferent to Renee.

He also liked the life they had built together very much so he glared suspiciously at the intruder. “Why are you here, Monsieur Bontemps?”

Finally recovering, Alexander stiffly replied, “I had some…business to discuss with the duchess.”

Renee snorted. “Business? Is that what this is, Alexandre?”

He flushed scarlet which caused the other two men in the room to laugh.

The prince spoke first. “Let’s drop the pretense, shall we? Renee and I have no secrets from each other nor do I keep secrets from the chevalier. His discretion is not in question. You may speak freely. Everyone in this room knows that Louis is your son. So why are you really here?”

“Do you wish to challenge me to a duel, Monsieur?” Alexandre asked carefully.

Philippe looked at him askance. “Why would I do that?”

Alexandre shook his head slowly. “Most men in your position would.” It was dawning on him that Renee had been telling the full truth of the matter. Philippe showed no signs of rage or jealousy.

Of course, it was an open secret at court that his affair with the chevalier never ended, but for most men indulging their own desires did not mean they were tolerant of their wives doing the same.

Philippe’s face broke into a wide smile. “When have you ever known me to be like most men? Come now, stay for dinner and we can discuss everything.”

“As tempting as that sounds…I have some urgent business matters I must attend to tonight. However….”

“Yes?”

“With your leave, I would like to visit the child. As a family friend, of course. I would never disclose the true nature of our relationship to him.”

“You want a relationship with our son?” Renee asked so quietly he almost missed it.

Turning to face her with beseeching eyes he answered her. “If it pleases you, then yes.”

Renee closed her eyes briefly as she fought against the onslaught of conflicting emotions that collided inside her at the thought. When she opened them again, she blinked up at him. “I think I would like that very much.”

Profound relief swirled through him at her answer. He had not known what to expect when he knocked on her door, but things had gone better than he could have imagined. Turning his attention back to Philippe, he asked, “And this is alright with you?”

“It is. You’ll find Louie is a capricious and wild little hellion who delights in his friendships with children and adults alike. I think he’ll be good for you.”

Alexandre barked out a surprised laugh. “He’ll be good for me?”

“Yes….” Philippe drawled out with a mischievous grin. “I think you need to loosen up and he’s just the person to help you do it.”

The king’s valet turned to go but an idea had taken root in his mind and he could not let it go. Turning back he asked, “And your wife?”

“What about her?”

“May I have permission to resume our….friendship?”

“Oh, he wants to court your wife!” The chevalier chortled out loud.

“Monsieur,” Philippe shook his head. “You disappoint me. I thought you understood. You do not need my permission. You need hers.”

Alexandre turned slowly, his heart thudding in his chest. “Madame. I would be most grateful if you would agree to indulge me in a conversation soon. I think we have many things to discuss.”

“For how long?”

“I’m sorry?”

“How long will these discussions go on? When do you leave again?”

He nodded in understanding. “Given today's revelations, and assuming you will continue to welcome me as a visitor in your home, I will start making the preparations to return to my house in Paris immediately and permanently.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment and then she nodded. “I would like you to get to know our son and I would be open to you and I having a conversation about where we go from there.”

He couldn’t help the smile that crawled across his face. He left the chateau with a spring in his step.

The truth was, he had not been happy since he’d left court shortly after her wedding. He hadn’t thought he could share her, open relationship with her husband or not. But an even larger concern had been his fear of openly loving her, thereby making her a target for his enemies, which were many.

He would never be comfortable being physically affectionate with her in front of others, he was more private than that, but if there was still a relationship to be had with her, there couldn’t be a more perfect cover than her marriage. No one ever had to know what she meant to him, or that he had a child. They could therefore never be used against him.

The thought of rekindling what they once had made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time….happiness.

It was entirely possible that things had worked out for him after all.

#vying for versailles #rc vying for versailles #rc vfv #rc alexandre #rc renée #fanfiction #fanfic #romance club #vfv

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forever-rogue · 1 year

Text

Spiderling Sunshine

AN | No asked for this, but you’re getting anyway. Here we have a mixture of coffee shop, tattoo artist, and soulmate aus! Enjoy❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 5.2k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hadn’t heard the soft twinkle of the bell above the door go off. It wasn’t until you heard his warm voice that you even realized that you weren’t alone.

“Is that challah?”

You jumped from where you were crouched on the floor, managing to hit your head on the counter. You hissed as you rose to your feet, rubbing at the sore spot that was already forming on your head, checking for blood or any sort of visible injury. Across the counter, much to your surprise, was a handsome man looking at you with a sheepish expression and meekly pointing at the display.

“Yeah,” you managed to choke out, distracted by the throbbing of your head and the glittering ochre eyes apologetically looking back at you, “it’s challah.”

“I’m so sorry,” he grimaced and took a step closer, “I didn’t realize you were behind there and fuck, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m alright,” you promised, knowing you’d taken many worse knocks to the head and been okay. You gave him a small smile, hoping to put him at ease, “no need to apologize. I probably should have been paying more attention too.”

“I’ll make more noise next time,” he joked and you both relaxed. You looked him over and realized you’d never seen him before; the only people that came into the coffee shop at this time of day were usually regulars. Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, he stood closer and held out his hand to you, “I’m Peter. Peter Parker. I just moved into the space down the block - well, my shop that is.”

“Peter,” you shook his hand, trying to ignore the warmth of his skin and how easily his hand swallowed yours. You told him your name and he repeated it softly, testing out how it sounded on his tongue, “oh! The new tattoo shop! I’ve walked by it a few times and was wondering when you’d be here. What’s it called again?”

“Spiderling Tattoo,” he smiled and damn, he had a magical smile that made your knees weak, “we open officially next week! I’m glad I found you…r shop. Now at least I have a spot to get my coffee.”

“Well, I’m here bright and early,” you gestured vaguely, feeling shy under his warm gaze, “so I’ll ughh…be here. Umm…bright and early. For coffee…because that’s ugh, what I do here. Obviously. I, ugh…I’m rambling and making a fool of myself so I’ll shut up now.”

“Don’t worry, it’s cute,” his eyes crinkled in the corner when he smiled wide and if that hadn’t been your weakness before, it was now, “do you think I could get some challah and a coffee to go?”

“Right, yes, of course,” your face warmed and you went to grab a knife to slice the freshly baked bread. You had to get yourself in check and stop oogling your customers. Just because they were incredibly kind, funny, flirty, and cute didn’t mean you had the right to objectify them. But no…you weren’t objectifying…just admiring beauty. Sure, you’d go with that.

“Are you Jewish?” he asked as he watched you carefully slice it.

“No,” you answered softly, “well according to 23&Me I’m like fifteen percent, but I don’t think that counts. I learned the recipe from one of my neighbors when I was growing up. She was an older Jewish lady and she loved sharing her recipes. Her kids and grandkids had moved out of New York and her husband had passed away, so she kind of adopted me in a way. I used to go see her a lot on weekends, so I like to think that I picked up her little tricks to make it perfect. I’m assuming you are? Jewish, I mean.”

“Yeah,” he liked you, he’d already decided that much, “my aunt used to make challah a lot growing up and I’m particular to it. I can’t wait to see how this stacks up.”

“I doubt it’ll be anywhere near as good,” you wrapped it up carefully and handed it across the counter to him. His fingers brushed against yours and it sent a warm shiver down your spine, “but you’ll have to tell me.”

After asking how he took his coffee, you busied yourself with making it to perfection, feeling the need to impress him. He took a sip as soon as it was in hand and you could see the smile on his face that he enjoyed it, “it’s perfect! Thank you - how much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house,” you insisted as soon as you saw him reaching for wallet, “consider it a little welcome to the neighborhood gift.”

“You’re the best,” yeah, you could get used to hearing that from him, “I’ll find a way to get you back for this, I promise.”

“Peter-”

“I’ve gotta go,” he looked at his watch and groaned slightly, “I’ll see you soon! I’ll be back, I promise!”

“See you soon, Peter Parker,” you watched him walk out the door, pausing to wave at you through the window once more before quickly booking it down the street. You found yourself staring after him, already missing him. Oh no. You had to pull it together. You’d known him for all of ten minutes, and you were already getting butterflies in your stomach. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were doomed.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The very next morning Peter was back as promised…in fact he was there so early that he managed to beat you. When you walked up, he was scrolling around on his phone, leaning against the front of the shop. Your heart almost dropped into your stomach at the sight. You hadn’t expected to see him again, at least not so soon.

He looked up as soon as he heard you, he looked up, that pretty smile on his face only growing. A hand was held up as he waved at you, “good morning!”

“Hi Peter,” it was easy to put a smile on, despite the early morning hour at the sight of him, “I’m guessing you’re an early bird?”

“No,” he shook his head as you raised an eyebrow in amusement, moving to unlock the shop, “anything but.”

“What brings you over so early?” not that you minded in the slightest. As far as you were concerned, Peter Parker was welcome any time.

“Wanted to see you,” he quickly blurted, and as soon as he realized his little admission his cheeks turned a pretty pink, “a-and coffee.”

“Ahh, well that I can do,” you promised, motioning for him to follow you inside. He trailed after you like a puppy, watching your every move with awe, “hey, Peter, I have a question for you.”

“Yeah?” he asked as you popped behind the counter and he leaned against, looking so effortlessly and ridiculously handsome, “and just what would that be?”

“Will you,” you mirrored his actions and leaned against the counter across from him, “do me the honor of being my guinea pig?”

“Yes.”

“I - oh my goodness, Peter,” you laughed lightly, a pretty sound that went straight to his heart, “you don’t even know what for!”

“Whatever it is,” he promised, “the answer is yes. Now…what exactly is it?”

“Coffee and baked goods,” you smiled softly, “there’s tons of new things I want to try out and I need an objective opinion on things. Can I trust you to always give me the truth, Peter?”

“Of course,” there was something about his words that let you both know he meant a lot more than just the coffee, “it will be an honor indeed. What’s first on the menu?”

“Lavender rose latte,” you grinned and he gave you a curious look with a bemused smile, “so - iced or hot?”

“Iced,” you gave him a nod before motioning for him to come behind the counter to watch you, “oh - before I forget. Your challah? Amazing…don’t tell Aunt May, but you’re giving her a run for her money.”

“Yeah?” your entire face lit up at the praise and Peter decided that he wanted to see that look on your face everyday. He wanted to be the reason for that look.

“Definitely.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter Parker came to see you every morning without fail. No matter what the morning brought, he was always there to greet you, a pretty smile on that handsome face. You didn’t even want to admit just how hard and fast you fell for your tattooed neighbor. Everything was just so easy with him; everything felt so right with him. Nothing else mattered when it was just the two of you in the early morning hours in your little coffee shop, or late nights at his tattoo studio. It was like time only existed for the two of you.

You came to know him better than anyone else, and you felt like he knew you down to your very soul. It was hard to explain how two people could have such a connection, or how they’d even find each other in this big, crazy world. Maybe it was completely by chance, maybe it was fate, or some sort of cosmic intervention.

Whatever it was, you were thankful that he walked into your life and managed to turn it upside down. You just had a feeling that he would be a part of your world for a long, long time. Sometimes it was scary, sometimes it made no sense, but none of that mattered. Only him and you, you and him. That was all.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But one day it all seemed to come apart, to start unraveling at the seams.

“Peter?” you chirped out his name happily as you walked into his shop, hoping he wasn’t busy. But to your surprise you found a pretty redhead girl sitting at the little front counter, looking bored as she scrolled on her phone. She turned to you with a dismal look and raised her eyebrow, but said nothing, “h-hi. Is Peter here?”

“Why do you need to see him?” oh. That’s the kind of interaction you were doing to have apparently. She set down her phone and crossed her arms over her chest, “well?”

“I-I own the coffee shop at the other end of the block,” you explained lamely, holding up the packages in your arm and putting down the cup in your hand, “I brought him some fresh-baked challah and coffee. Is he here?”

“Oh,” she stood up and gave you a disgustingly sweet smile, “my boyfriend is in the back, finishing up with a client.”

Boyfriend. You didn’t want to admit just how deeply your heart broke at the singular word. You thought you’d gotten to him so well over the past few months, but you had no clue that he had a girlfriend. In all the time you’d spent with him you’d never never once heard him mention her. Either way, she was here now and you had to accept that heartbreaking little fact. Maybe it wasn’t you and him after all…

“It’s nice to meet you!” you put what you hoped would appear as a genuine smile on your face as you gave her name. You set the packages on the counter as you pushed them towards her, “can you please make sure he gets them…?”

“Mary Jane,” she eyed the packages but left them where you had set them, “did you need anything else? We’re kind of busy here.”

“N-no,” you shook your head, already taking a step back towards the door, “that was all. Thank you - if you ever want a coffee or dessert, feel free to stop by and it’ll be on the house!”

“Mhmm,” she was already back to looking at her, dismissing you without so much as a goodbye, “thanks. I guess.”

You were out the door and back onto the street, letting out a long sigh as you blinked back the tears that were stinging at the back of yours. You felt hurt, in a way, because Peter had never once mentioned her and you thought you were getting close to him. The other part of the hurt was the fact Mary Jane had treated you like garbage. Was she that rude to everyone? Or just you? She did think you were trying to steal Peter away? So many questions and so few answers.

But you pushed all of that out of mind and walked back to your little shop; you had plenty of work to keep you occupied.

Meanwhile, as soon as she was positive you were gone, Mary Jane tossed the delicately wrapped packages of fresh challah straight into the trash can along with the coffee and kicked it out of sight under the counter.

“Hey,” Peter had made his way from the back of the shop and came up front, “did someone come in? I thought I might have heard-”

“No,” she insisted firmly, putting a sweet smile that managed to fool him, “I was on the phone that’s all. Nothing important.”

“If you’re sure,” he raised an eyebrow almost as if he didn’t quite believe her, “well, I’m almost ready to go - five minutes. Still want to grab some Chinese on the way home?”

“That’s what we did last week Pete,” she rolled her eyes slightly, “let’s go out on a real date for once. It’s always the same thing with you. It gets so boring.”

“I never knew it bugged you so much,” he raised an eyebrow but she only huffed, “okay, we can go out for dinner and have a date night out more often.”

“Thanks babe,” her attitude changed quickly as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, “you’re the best. Can you please hurry up please?”

Peter bit his cheek to keep from making a comment and opted to simply nod instead.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few days passed before you saw Peter again, and if you were being honest with yourself, it had been eating you up inside. It had become such a routine to see him in the mornings when he stopped in, for you to go to his shop when you had time during lunch, and for either of you to find the other at the end of the day. This was the first time in months there had been any sort of deviation from the routine. And it fucking sucked. You wondered if something had happened to him because when you’d go by his shop it seemed to be closed.

You missed him. You missed Peter probably way more than you should have. You wondered if he missed you at all.

But relief came on the fifth day when the bell over the front twinkled gently and you saw Peter Parker walk through your door. You were in the middle of finishing putting some fresh muffins, but stopped immediately as you ran over to him. A small smile grew on his face as you beamed up at him.

“Peter,” you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly, “I’ve missed you! I was starting to get worried.”

“I was out of town,” he confessed as he hugged you back with just as much feeling, as you nodded, “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you. It was a last minute thing.”

“It’s okay,” you promised, “I’m just glad you’re okay, I’m glad you’re here. Hey, did you get a chance to try the challah?”

“W-what challah?” his eyebrows shot up in confusion as you cocked your head to the side, “when did you…?”

“I dropped some off,” you whispered softly, “the day before you left, in the afternoon. I came over and dropped them off along with a new latte at the counter…with your girlfriend.”

“Oh,” his cheeks reddened and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d hit a nerve, “it’s umm…we…we just recently got back together.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged lightly, “we’ve…yeah. But she didn’t give me anything.”

“I left two packages with her,” you worried your lip between your teeth “they were freshly baked. I tried something new with the one and hoped you would try it. I guess they just…didn’t make their way to you…o-or something.”

“You dropped them off?” you could hear the emotion in his voice and just nodded. You didn’t even need to be told that they were thrown into the trash; you could put the pieces together. Peter on the other hand was still processing everything, “but I never….fuck. I’m sorry - I swear I didn’t get them.”

“‘s okay,” you nodded softly, feeling like crying, “it’s not your fault. I-I’ll make some more soon and you can try it. Can I get you anything this morning? I’ve got fresh cinnamon rolls and I can make you a latte.”

“Actually,” he shook his head and your mouth opened in surprise. He’d never once turned you down, “I’ve gotta go. But I’ll be back, okay? I swear I’ll be back soon.”

“Peter?”

“Soon,” he promised, crossing his heart quickly which brought a smile to your face. But just before he could make his way out of the shop, he poked his head back inside, “but save me one of those cinnamon rolls please!”

“Always,” you whispered despite the fact that he was gone, “always.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter didn’t even bother going to open Spiderling Tattoo, opting instead to go to Mary Jane’s apartment. He knocked on the door, his mind reeling with all of the things that he wanted to say, and anger flowing through his veins. After a few moments, the door was opened and Mary Jane looked surprised to see him.

“Pete, what are you doing here?” she seemed perturbed at his sudden appearance, “shouldn’t you be at work?”

He ignored her question and said your name, which caused her face to scrunch up in annoyance, “she did stop by the other day. You said she didn’t. Why?”

“It didn’t matter,” she insisted, rolling her eyes and throwing her hands up dramatically, “why does it matter so much? She’s just the little coffee shop girl. She’s obsessed with you, Peter. It’s weird!”

“What happened to the challah?”

“Peter-”

“What happened to it?” he was upset with how she was acting, more even upset thinking about how hurt you must be, “tell me.”

“Jesus Peter, it’s just bread,” she sounded like she was ready for an argument, “I’ll buy you some damn bread if it’s that important.”

“It’s not just about the bread, Mary Jane,” he groaned in frustration, “it’s about all of it. Why did you lie to me? Why would you just throw it away?”

“Because Peter! All you do is talk about her and how great she is and what she did,” Mary Jane frowned deeply as Peter listened to what she said, “you’re not dating her, you’re dating me! Me! What’s so hard to understand about that? If she’s so important to you, maybe you should just go to her.”

“You know,” he took a step back, shaking his head more to himself than anything else, “I’ve been wondering why we got back together. It just reminded me of why we broke up in the first place. I don’t want to do this anymore, Mary Jane. We’re not good together…all we do is push and pull each other and I don’t think either of us are really happy. So let’s just…not do this.”

“You’re just going to break up with me?” her brows knitted together and her mouth formed a small o, “have you been fucking her!?”

“This is what I’m talking about,” Peter shook his head, “you always assume the worst, but just to answer your question, no. I have not. She’s my friend. But you? You’re not being a friend right now. It’s over, MJ. We’re done.”

“Whatever Peter,” she slammed the door shut in his face before he could even say another word. He shook his head and got out of the daze he’d been worked into. When he had first gotten together with MJ, things had been good, and they’d been good together. But he soon learned that she was prone to jealousy and acting irrationally. If it hadn’t been for that they might have worked out. But something in his gut told him that there was something else beneath it all.

The thing Peter knew was that he needed to go back to you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was getting close to closing time and Peter hadn’t come back. You thought he’d meant it earlier when he said he would be back soon. You really shouldn’t have made a big deal out of it, because it clearly wasn’t. Besides, the two of you were just friends. Just friends that happened to own businesses near each other. And that’s all you ever would be. You hated how much that broke your heart.

You’d locked the door and were just about to flip the vintage, handmade sign on the door from open to closed, when you heard the rapid tapping on the window. You looked up and couldn’t believe the sight that met your eyes. Peter Parker was standing outside, a nervous but excited look on his face, his cheeks pink from the slight chill, hair messy as always, and a handful of sunflowers and daisies in his hand. You couldn’t right back your own smile as you beamed back at him.

Let me in? he mouthed as you nodded, quickly unlocking the door and pulling it open as he came inside. You locked it behind him and flipped the sign before turning to him with an incredulous expression on your face.

“Peter? You came back...” you whispered softly as he seemed to mull over the right thing to say. Sometimes his mind worked way faster than his mouth, and he found him looking at you with a dopey little smile, “is everything alright?”

“These are for you,” he held out the flowers to you, causing your heart to beat impossibly faster. You gently took them, clutching them gently to your chest as you inhaled their sweet scent.

“They’re lovely,” you whispered, immediately touched by the sweet gesture, “but why…”

“They reminded me of you,” he confessed, a nervously anxious little smile on his face, “sunflowers because you always brighten my day, and daisies because they’re delicate and gentle just like you, and I know you told me a long time ago they’re your favorites.”

“Peter…” you blinked back the tears that had threatened to spill down your cheeks, “I don’t know if you should do this…”

“It was MJ,” he breathed out and the name was enough to make your heart constrict, “she threw it all away, and she lied to me about it. I…I’m so sorry. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“Or to you,” you shrugged lightly, lips trembling with effort as you tried to hold back your tears.

“I broke up with her,” he confessed, causing your eyes to snap to his with a hopeful little expression, “I should never have gotten back together with her. I knew that but I still did…”

“Why?” you swallowed the lump in your throat. Your heart was beating so fast you wondered if he could hear it threatening to burst through your ribcage, “why did you?”

“I hadn’t seen her in a few years and she came back and I thought that maybe…maybe being with her would help me get over you,” now that it was out in the open, Peter felt a million times better. But the look on your face didn’t necessarily make him feel relieved, your face was a mask of confusion, “but that turned out to be a huge mistake.”

“You were trying to get over me?” your voice was small and trembling as you clutched the flowers tighter in your hand, “what do you mean? Why? Peter, I-I don’t understand.”

“It’s been you,” he breathed out, more nervous than he had been in a long, long time, “from the day I met you. And I just…I asked myself why you would ever want to be with someone like me? I’m just…I’m just a-”

“I’m in love with you,” you cut him off before he could say anything else, lest he go on a self-deprecating tirade. His mouth dropped open and he looked at those you had grown an extra head. You offered him a nervous smile but nodded, confirming that he had actually heard you correctly, “if you would have asked me I would have said yes, you know.”

“I didn’t want to flatter myself that much,” he breathed out, stepping closer to you and leaving almost no space between your bodies, “to think you could ever love me as much as I love you.”

“Well,” you gently laid the flowers on the counter as you shrugged lightly, “you were wrong.”

“I was wrong.”

“Yes.”

Without wasting another moment his hands found your face and he pulled you into him, crashing his lips onto yours. It took you only a moment to respond, your arms wrapping around his waist, almost melting into him. You let him take the lead, deepening the kiss as you practically became putty in his arms. He didn’t stop until he’d kissed you dizzy, still not wanting to let you go.

“Peter,” his name whispered from your lips sounded better than anything he had ever heard and he had to fight back a soft groan. Your eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his forehead against yours, feeling your eyelashes kiss his cheek. You could feel him smiling against your lips as his hands settled on your waist, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.”

“I think I might have an idea,” he chuckled softly before kissing you again, all nervous and excited brushes of lips and promises of so much more, “I really like kissing you. Feels so right.”

“Funny,” you teased softly, brushing a hand through his hair gently, “I was just thinking the same thing. You know what that means, right?”

“Hmm?”

“Kiss me more.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were sitting on Peter's kitchen counter, watching him cook in between stealing kisses and sips of wine. You liked watching him cook - there was something inherently sexy about it - but couldn’t help but laugh at how messy he was. He’d managed to spatter himself with wine, oil, and sauce before he was even finished.

“Pete,” you shook your head at him, all affectionate sighs and soft smiles, “go and change your shirt and soak that one so it doesn’t stain permanently.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted meekly, looking down at his own shirt before groaning, “fine. But you stay right there.”

“Hmmm,” he quickly kissed you a few times before running down the hall to his bedroom. You let out a small sigh of content as you looked around his apartment. You liked being here, and found yourself at his place more often than not. You were taking it slow, but everything about this felt right. You knew Peter was your future, you could feel that in your bones.

“I settled on an old shirt,” he came padding back into the kitchen, “that way if it gets dirty it won’t matter!”

You turned to look at him and nearly choked on your wine. The shirt in question was in his hands and he was currently shirtless in front of you. And what a damn fine sight that was; it sent every part of you into overdrive. He was lean and well built, and you were trying not to objectify him or study the deep v of his hips or the dusting of hair under his belly button that disappeared under the waistband of his joggers.

Ample tattoos littered his body, which you had surmised from the amount on his arms, but still. They were gorgeous - he was gorgeous. He caught you staring, which you were doing nothing to hide, and chuckled in amusement, “it’s rude to stare, pretty girl.”

“‘m not,” you lied sheepishly, sighing playfully as he pulled on the shirt. But just before he was covered up again, the tattoo on the side of his ribcage caught your eye, “Peter.”

“What? What’s wrong?” his hand settled on the side of your face as he gave you the once-over to make sure you were okay.

“That tattoo, on your side,” you reached for the hem of his shirt, but he beat you to it and pulled it up. The ink came back into view and your heart almost caught in your throat. Neat and polished was a pretty, intricate flower, a little spider perched on one of the edges of the petals, “I…it’s beautiful. But…it’s…how long have you had it?”

“This?” he seemed bemused as you traced your fingers gently along his inked skin, “a long time. It was one of the first pieces I got…kind of what pushed me into tattooing myself. Why?”

You remained silent as you slid off the counter, leaving Peter to watch you curiously. You looked into those pretty brown eyes before pulling up your own shirt. He watched you intently, but his eyes widened in surprise as soon as he saw it. There, on your own ribcage, on the side opposite of his own, he saw the tattoo that was almost identical to his own. Yours was a different flower with a different little spider, but eerily the same. He made a small sound of disbelief as he reached up and traced his fingers along the edge, leaving fire in their wake as you closed your eyes.

“How?” he asked out loud, speaking his question into the ether, “how could we…when did you get this?”

“Almost ten years ago,” you breathed nervously as he settled his hand on your waist, “it was a small place in California…that’s where I went to college before moving back here. What about you?”

“Almost ten years ago,” he echoed and you both laughed softly, “but here, in Queens. How is this possible? They couldn’t have known…but they’re almost identical. I know this was hand drawn for me but…you too? I don’t understand. It makes no sense…”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” you set down your shirt and looked at the breathtaking smile on his face, “maybe it was -”

“Fate,” he finished for you. Peter Parker was a man of logic and science, tangible things that made sense. This? This made no logical sense at all, but at the same time it all made perfect sense. It all felt so…right, “I love you, you know?”

“I know,” you kissed him, pulling him into your arms, “I love you too, Peter Parker.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter one shot #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x you #andrew garfield x reader

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blueberrypancakesworld · 1 year

Text

~ An escape or the last stand ~

warning for all chapters : Minors don't interact please this is really not for you. This is a dark fanfiction the whole thing is Dead Dove : Do not eat content. Mental Instability , blood & violence , kidnapping , sexual assault , rape , threesome , blood kink , obsession , injury , Predator/Prey , Angst , smut , Jealousy , dark themes , sexual fantasy , blood kink , knife play , just the normal hardcore Slasher things

Summary : The wedding ceremony in the church is done. But so quickly husbands can change. She now her wife. Your prey. your obsession, your property. To the wedding belongs the night. The night when the husband sleeps with his chosen one. But when one is cursed again. How will the actual beautiful night turn out. and will they treat her well or stick a knife in her heart?

next chapter, masterlist

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For a moment everything was quiet in the church and she thought that was it now. Either it was all just a sick dream of Freddy or maybe she was already dead. But when Eddie approached her and knelt down in front of her, the girl took a step back. ,,No, darling, it's just the ring," Eddie purred, pulling out a small box. Then he took her hand and almost all the presents fell down. Which is why she stood there, slightly tense, trying not to drop Micheal's knife and risk a bleeding foot.

With one swift movement the ring was on her finger and the cold metal filled in a sick way to her shame.

Eddie stood up and looked down at his bride with a smile. ,,You may now kiss your bride given in marriage before God," they heard the priest say.

She wanted to move away from here but when she felt Eddie's hand on her back and how he pulled her towards him she knew it was inevitable. ,,My beautiful wife" he whispered to her before he put his lips on hers.

To her surprise there was a mix of love and almost shyness in the kiss as he let go of her lips. I will never get out of here again she thought desperately and escaped Eddie's grip. He had let go of her and Y/N was pushed against the altar. Only then did she notice the alert eyes of the others and her fear tightened her throat.

They no longer looked at her as a human being, they saw her as their obsession. She was their new exquesite prey. She knew that meat that had to be hunted tasted better than store-bought. Suddenly the men rose and Eddie held out his hand to her. ,,Come my flower, it's time for the wedding night," he said cheerfully and gave her a smile.

But she didn't feel like rejoicing, she felt like screaming and crying. Panic gripped her body, but with the dress and all the gifts she would not get far, she had to admit to herself.

When Eddie became impatient and took her hand, he pulled her as gently as he could between his changes, first behind and then beside him. The silent killers Jason , Michael , Thomas and Vincent walked behind the couple and cut her off to the rear.

Billy and Stu as well as Bo and Brahms walked in front of them and the four of them kept looking back at her. She was clearly aware of the grinning and whispering and it made her uncomfortable.

Next to her and Eddie walked Freddy and Pennywise and she heard the rubbing of the blades and the popcorn smell of the clown. It was a strange mixture between dust, blood, musty and dirty hung the sweetly tantalizing smell she loved as a child. ,,Like a stupid animal," Pennywise muttered and the balloon on her wrist magically moved slightly left and right.

The way out of the church compartment was much too fast for her and she felt nervousness taking over her body with every step. It was horrible to run towards her fate without being able to do anything.

The only thing she prayed for was that they wouldn't all jump on her at the same time. Otherwise she would probably prefer the jump out of the window or her husband's knife sooner than she thought.

The move to the main building was barely visible but she knew from the small twitch on Eddie's hand that his anticipation was rising. ,,Almost there, sweetheart" she heard the dirty giggle of Bo who let his eyes wander down her form.

It wasn't until they turned into the hallway and she recognized the door to her room where she fainted that she tried to escape his grasp. ,,Please-please don't no," she begged Eddie who had a firm grip on her hand. He stopped abruptly and looked at her in confusion.

His eyes shone a strange mixture of incomprehension and confusion. ,,But darling, what is it? I promise it will be beautiful. Just think of the children, they will look as beautiful as you, my dear," he tried to cheer her up in his own way.

At the word children, she looked at Eddie, startled. I'm as good as dead, was all she could think of, and fear gripped her. She knew that if she didn't kill herself, it would come out later anyway, and then she would be of no use to the murderers. ,,I-ehm..." she stammered, but fell silent and hung her head slightly.

The light flickered in the hallway and the shadows of the eleven people looked monstrous. She was the Lamb, and the others were the big bad wolf, snarling and licking its teeth at the meat. All at once Eddie's hand stroked her cheek and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

But the look that was confused before was now fixating as if he didn't want to let her go. ,,Honey are you still a virgin?" he asked her and a smile that reminded her of obsession scared her.

Before she could even explain the situation, the dream demon interrupted her. ,,My little one is certainly not a virgin anymore, sorry to spoil your fun," came from Freddy who gave a dark chuckle and his face came out from under his hat.

Suddenly Eddie let go of her and took a step towards Freddy.His expression changed completely and he seemed to be completely out of it. Anger and aggression seemed to have completely taken over his mind.Without warning, he lunged and tried to hit the older man. Anger and aggression seemed to have completely taken over his mind.

Without warning, he lunged and tried to hit the older man. Freddy dodged with a grin and the blades came out of one of Eddie's knives. This is my only chance she thought with a jerk, dropping everything but the knife she was clutching and running past the distracted killers.

In fact, Michael and Jason seemed to be expecting her and tried to grab her. She ducked and her hands clutched the white dress which tore at her legs with a jerk.

She heard Eddie shouting something after her, but she just kept running.

She felt ironic about the whole situation. A few hours ago or more, she didn't know, she had already run away once and now she was running around again in a broken wedding dress.

It was cold and goosebumps formed on her skin it was uncomfortable she hated it. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her. But she knew she had to get to the elevator to reach the top floor to find the exit and get to her car.

A tour of each floor was like a tour of wherever you started, you would always come back to the elevator, or so she hoped. So she ran on, clutching the knife and still unsullied, no blood on the blade but that would soon change.

She heard footsteps behind her and she knew it was all just a matter of time until they had her. ,,Come back now, darling!" she heard the cry of Eddie, who had apparently left Freddy earlier than expected. She thought for a moment, but no matter how many times she went through the scenario, she never had a chance against any of the eleven. Especially against the clown she was as good as powerless. She would not get her fear under control here.

She turned the corner and she hoped that it would not take long until she came to the elevator. But when she heard a crack in the wall, she gulped.

It's Brahms, she thought, and walked away from the wall.It was true that she might not be able to do anything against the killers, but she had to at least try to escape, otherwise it would be the only thing she would ever have known.

As said before, Brahms came out of the wall with a leap and tried to grab her. However, since the girl was too far away, he reached into the void. ,,Come back to me, I'll be good too!" he assured her, but his tone became vicious and she sobbed.

Her lungs and legs were racing and the fabric of her dress was getting more and more ragged from the poor sewing. When she arrived at a room she knew that hiding and waiting was the best option. She closed the door and walked backwards into the room. But it was dark and she could not see her hand in front of her eyes.

She was only aware of her own heavy breathing and rapid heartbeat. The knife was still held convulsively. ,,My little one, come back to your husband," she heard it whisper before a tongue ran across her cheek. She recoiled from Freddy and ran toward the door, knocking over a stack of chairs to block the way. ,,You really think little Y/N is going to stop me, stupid girl?" he shouted after her, laughing which increased her heartbeat.

She ran on and prayed that she would finally reach the elevator.

She was hardly aware of the spider webs around her until she began to get tangled in them and they began to cover her arms and legs, and she cut them with her knife. ,,My...wife, there you are, come to Pennywise," the redhead quipped, and she ducked away under a claw. ,,Leave me alone you miserable clown!" she screamed at him and tried to hit him with the blade as she couldn't find any other way to get out of here. Only when she saw the clown's glowing eyes did she back away in fear. He began to drool as if he were feasting on her performance.

,,So juicy and delicious come here my Y/N" he demanded and made a leap towards her. Out of survival instinct, she raised the knife and held it protectively in front of her. She heard the tearing of cloth and bells followed by an amused giggle.

When she looked, the knife was up to the hilt in the clown's chest and a misty mass came out. ,,This has all become much more interesting. Run, my wife, entertain me. Come on, run!" he shouted at her and in one movement the spider threads disappeared. Pennywise took a step backwards and escaped the blade before disappearing into the darkness. ,,What's going on here?" she muttered and looked around. Everything the clown had brought had disappeared, but she was glad that he had let go of her.

She made a relieved noise when she saw the elevator a few meters ahead of her. She slammed the grate of the elevator shut and let herself fall against the wall before pressing the button for the top floor.

But startled, she opened her eyes when she heard a familiar voice. ,,Darling, come here now. Come back to me...now!" Eddie shouted at her, his hands shaking the elevator. ,,I-no, please go away," she stammered, pressing herself harder against the wall of the elevator. ,,I'm not done with you yet. You're not going to break up our marriage!" he called after her before the elevator went up.

Trembling but relieved to finally get upstairs, she breathed in and out. Everything will be fine, just don't lose your nerve, she reminded herself, knowing that if she did get out, therapy would be the best thing for eternity. But when the elevator stopped on the second floor, she frantically pressed the button to continue. ,,It didn't work like that, sweetheart.

You see, the old thing took a while, you know, for the patients. Now come here," came from Bo who was pushing his way into the elevator. She screamed and dodged Bo before catching his hand with the knife. ,,Oh we're gonna get you my bitch," he said before running after her.

She ran again, afraid it might be her last moment. Briefly she turned her head and saw that Bo had slowed down, but she didn't know why. ,,Vincent grab her," she heard and wondered. But when she turned the corner and two knives with a dragon handle bored into the wall in front of her head, she looked at the wax figure maker in panic. The black-haired man emerged from the darkness and Y/N ran on, feeling him coming closer with each step.

Only when she felt a pain on her arm did she cry out. Vincent had thrown one of his knives at her and it had left a bleeding gash on her arm. Only the clang of the knife could be heard as it fell to the ground. The warm blood ran down her arm and began to soak the dress.

Under other circumstances this would be astetic, but in her present case she had nothing but disgust and fear for it. She ran around one of the many corners before skidding over an overturned table and looking back, gasping. She breathed a sigh of relief when she couldn't see Vincent in the dim light.

Slower than necessary to avoid toppling over from exertion, she continued through the second floor. She knew that each floor was only a circuit, but it still seemed so long to the elevator.

The knife was still in her hand with only a splash of Bo's blood on the blade. Better him bleeding than me she thought to herself and held the wound on her arm. Only now did she look down at her dress with distaste. After it was torn, it went down to her knee and some scraps of fabric were hanging down. What was once pure and innocent was now torn and stained.

She stopped and her eyes searched the darkness as she heard grunting, almost animalistic noises.

,,Thomas" she whispered and started to run, and only a few moments later the sparks of the chainsaw lit up the hallway. Despite the fact that the machine was heavy and she herself could not hold it up for long, Thomas seemed to have no problem chasing it through the halls. The sound of the chainsaw rang in her ears she hated it.

It was loud and she knew one hit with that thing would probably be enough to cut her in half or completely incapacitate her and then she would be done for. ,,Stop it Thomas please!" she begged as she felt the metal almost against her back. Suddenly the sound of the chains turning stopped and only the whirring of the engine could be heard. Y/N continued to run but looked back as if her words had stopped him.

But this was not the reason why she backed away and almost tripped over her own feet. ,,Jason" she whispered and the man with the machete looked down at her.

For a moment she thought he would leave her alone, just like Thomas. But when Jason went for his machete and lunged, she cried out. As best as she could, she rolled to the side before she pulled herself up and dodged the machete again. The machete got caught in the wall and Jason seemed to need a moment before he could come at her again. She took her chance and ran away again. ,,Come on, just a little longer," she reminded herself, making a delighted noise when she saw the elevator. She jumped in, pressed the button and was relieved to see that the system had caught up again. Just in time the elevator rose and the machete and the two knives flew towards the elevator but bounced off with a ringing sound and fell loudly to the floor.

She shakily took her hand away from her wound and saw that it was also now full of blood. She almost lost the knife and wiped her slippery fingers on the white fabric. Calmly just through the top floor and then out of here. You're back home and then everything will be fine she thought and a few moments later the door opened.

Slowly at first and then running, she ran through the upper floor. The air was cooler up here through the demolished windows but she didn't care. She breathed in the oxygen and was glad that she got some. ,,Hey beauty come here. Yeah, come join us, let's have some fun and watch a movie," purred the voices of Billy and Stu, the two older ones seeming to make fun of her insecurity.

Only when she cried out in fear when she saw the two with the Ghostface masks coming out of the darkness towards her did they run towards her. ,,Please let me please!" she screamed at them and she screamed again when she was grazed by two blades. The knives of the two had hurt her even if only slightly on her shoulder, which was slightly open because of the dress. ,,I'm going to have so much fun my new Sidney" Billy said and Stu only made an annoyed noise. ,,She's ours, Billy ours!" snapped Stu, his jealousy clearly audible.

Fucked up but Interesting relationship, she thought, although there was no worse time to think of such a thing.

She looked back at the two of them and saw Billy stop his friend. They mumbled something and took off their masks. ,,The shadow will get you darling" Billy called after her and they both stopped before waiting in the darkness. The shadow. She thought about it, but her thoughts were too confused for her to sort them out.

But it didn't matter, she saw the exit and pulled the last reserves out of her. She sprinted out as fast as she could. She saw her car, which she had parked behind the barrier, untouched. But there was no greater joy than seeing the vehicle. She had a consumed grin on her lips as she stood in front of her car. She reached for the door's opener and faltered. It was locked.

She tried again, but when she realized she needed a key, she reached into the void. ,,The key, the damn key," she muttered and her fist collided with the glass. Hissing, she pulled back, but stopped when she saw someone standing behind her in the reflection of the glass. ,,Michael" came like a breath over her lips before the man cut her off with his hands.

The knife in her hand was held trembling in front of her and she looked up at Michael in fear. He was breathing loudly as if he was exhausted no rather excited but why she did not know and that made her afraid.

One last try she thought to herself and she took it in her stride to run all the way home. She gripped the knife tighter and stabbed at Michael's chest.

But with a speed she would not have expected, he grabbed her wrist and held it so tightly that she dropped the knife. The killer leaned down and came closer, but Y/N jerked away.

His hand ran over the wound on her arm and she hissed. He paused to watch her for a moment before his hand went to her hair. ,,Please let me go," she pleaded softly. His head turned slightly and behind the mask the two eyes watched her.

With a jerk he had grabbed her head and with two blows against the car she sank unconscious from the force into his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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theealluringstoryteller · 6 months

Text

Against the world around us

The rewrite

Chapter 1

They say being happy over someone’s death says a lot about how you were treated by that person or it gives away what type of person you are. As Omorose sat at the head of her family’s table watching as the servant of her family’s estate sat around in the grand custom made chairs that lined the polished white marble table positioned in the middle of the spacious dining room. All talking with light expressions, no care in the world, no stress, no judgmental overbearing eyes peering harshly down at them with harsh comments and demands following close behind. Omorose thought herself to be cruel sitting there at the head of the table-her father’s seat without any one of sadness, remorse, or any feeling of lost. It’s been a week since the imperial navy knocked on the Fentress estate to give their condolences over lost parents that never loved her. The news of her parents being lost at sea never to be found shook her to her core but that feeling soon left like a sudden chill going down your spine and was replaced with the overwhelming weight of her parents standards and expectations lifting off her shoulders. The now official Baroness felt lighter. So much so that everyone has been commenting on how brighter she looked.

So as she Sat at the head of the table eating her second plate of what the chef prepared- a simple act that would’ve had her mother scowl and unapologetically torment for- the Baroness found herself in pure joy and contentment because instead of sharing the massive table with two cold hearted people she shared it with people who made her feel warm and safe to be who she really is.

“I don’t know how you’re going to survive the memorial tomorrow, Rosie.” Omorose’s old nanny commented after the head butler joked about how many suitors visited in such a short time span to give the same regurgitated ‘sorry for your lost’ speech hoping to be invited in to stay and comfort the ‘grieving’ gorgeous noble woman. No doubt those suitors would show their faces hoping to win over the Baroness.

“Suffer and wish for the day to end,” Omorose joked digging her fork and knife into the spot buttery scallop potatoes that side dishes alongside garlic roasted Brussel sprouts to the main dish: blacked salmon.

“There was a time when flirting with someone while they were in mourning was heavily frowned upon.”

“Back when morals were in standard practice” comes the house keeper to the stable hand.

“The younger generation!” Scoffed the head butler Malcolm who rolled his eyes as he brought his glass of wine to his lips.

“Don’t know what from what but always thinking they’re running the show”

“Don’t know what from what not always thinking they’re running the show”

The table chuckled at the duo as the Baroness smirked amused after she mocked the man who was somewhat a father figure when she needed it most.

“I don’t think we’re all that helpless,” added Omorose pushing her not finished plate away so she could rest her chin on her palm.

“Thanks to Nina,” Malcom pointed to the elderly lady who took care of Omorose soon after Amara gave birth “You were raised with morals and sense! Can’t say the same for the rest of your generation,”

“Hey! Exclaimed the Rhodes triplets. Mouths full of food causing the table to groan in disgust.

“Proving my point exactly - and under 5 seconds too."

“The older generation I tell ya!”

“Always so damn judgmental…” The second born continued.

“And their heads are always up their—”

“No respect, no dessert!” Nina scowled pointing her fork at the three boys who are thick as thieves among themselves. Her simple threat settled the trio quickly.

“Let me guess Ceci made their famously delectable cheesecake?

“The only way I knew how to calm everyone before tomorrow’s…festivities,”

Nina quickly follows the Baroness into her room asking “How are you really feeling, little rose?”

Omorose rolled her honey brown eyes at her fussing nanny

“My parents are gone and I’m officially the youngest Baroness in the imperial court. Expected to continue the support given by my parents to a war I never supported. On top of that I’m prey—more so now than ever to a bunch of ‘hungry’ men and women who only want to climb the empire’s social ladder while gaining a pretty little trophy wife they can have on their arm,” she listed of everything that plagued her while she kicked off her shoes and threw herself on the soft cushions of the sofa in her junior master bedroom.

“And because I’m an imperial woman I have to marry one of those oafs who doesn’t care about my brilliant mind and everything I stand for,” the gleaming light in her honey eyes faded as she meant on.

“No! They concern themselves with how to persuade me into their beds because they only care about how attractive I am in their eyes—it’s humiliating! Like I’m nothing more than my body,”

Sensing the sudden mood change Nina made her way over to the sofa moving Omorose so her head could lay in her lap. “You’re more than just beauty …You know that right?” Nina questioned tangling her thick callous fingers into Omorose’s thick soft curls.

“Well of course! But I don’t want to be with someone who is only satisfied because of my beauty but I must. It’s what we nobles do! Get married to people who doesn’t give a damn about us, become an alcoholic, have a child and then years down the line get lost at sea…”

“You’re not going to end up like your parents,” Nina assured

“Being in a loveless substance abusing marriage is the imperial way.”

Dinner plates classed as they were removed from the table. In the low light Rhett grabbed a hold of Aurelia’s hand stroking the back of it gently with his thumb. Seeing the soft gesture the ‘play boy’ of Intacia ‘awed’ before downing the rest of his drink. Rhett looked away from his wife towards his best friend,a soft smile on his face “what?”

Castin shrugged his shoulders pouring himself another drink “Nothin’… just wish I had what you two have …seems warm and I don’t know …fulfilling,”

“You?” Rhett began with a chuckle “You want to settle down? With a wife? Committing to only one person for the rest of your life? You?”

“Don’t think I can?”

“Honestly brother, you’ve built quite the reputation. I don’t think any Intacian woman would entertain you with the thought of marriage,”

Castin rolled his eyes at the mention of his infamous reputation “so I’ve had a load of experience and practice! At least she won’t ever be left unsatisfied ,”

“I think the fact that you’re the commander of the first army at your age trumps your…reputation. If anything you can marry one of those…what are they called?” Aurelia tapped her chin pretending to think. “Trash chasers!” She calls out with an amused smirk.

“Tag chasers? Nah they aren’t the marrying type,”

“And you are?” Aurelia retorted scoffing.

“Yes and I probably would’ve been if I wasn’t dealing with your fellow imperials—”

“We aren’t all bad—”

Yeah right! They only got lucky with you,”

“Castin!” Rhett cuts in with a warning tone.

“No Rhett,” Aurelia said quickly

“He has every right to feel that way. This war has made a huge impact on your’s and his life.”

“Glad one imperial can admit that—”

“I have a friend!" Aurelia cuts Castin off “she’s now officially an imperial Baroness who has spent countless hours and money in dedication of being a humanitarian for both her people and yours despite her parents—her late parents supporting the empire’s war with Intacia and despite all the negativity she faces from other imperials—”

“So she’s a decent human,” Castin shrugged not impressed.

“She’s given money and aid to Intacian villages—”

“The least she could do!”

Rhett grumbled under his breath knowing he couldn’t argue with Castin because he knew it was true. After the horrific things the Empire has done to Intacia money and aid was just touching the surface of what anyone of the empire could do.

-later that night-

“I’m sorry for Castin’s behavior tonight, my love,” Rhett apologized taking off his shirt.

“With this was I believe joking is a way he copes with the stress,”

Aurelia nodded silently accepting her husband’s apology.

“I want to invite Omorose here,” Aurelia stated talking a seat at her vanity.

“Imperials tend to be inactive during events like deaths. I just know she needs a breather,”

Rhett thought it over for a minute whether it was a god idea or not for a noble of her status to visit.

“Is it wise to have her here?”

“It can be for diplomatic purposes …please? We haven’t seen another in such a long time,”

The king couldn’t simply say no to such a simple request his wife made to see an old friend

“Wait until after this upcoming battle is over. I have a feeling this war is going to end soon.”

-The memorial-

The beach was decorated lavishly for the service of Baron and lady Fentress. The late couple’s daughter dressed pristinely as she was expected to do. A blank expression on her face as she sat front row zoning out at the speeches ‘closes’ friends of her family gave. Nina sat left off her as Lord Reyes sat right, the rest of her friends along with the families that knew her since forever sat in the other rows behind her. Omorose could only hope that once the funeral was over she could escape from the fake condolences and prying questions, back to her safe haven. Their gaze felt like spiders crawling all over her and she was forced to sit as they explored.

“Only an hour left bookworm,” Reyes mumbled slipping his hand into hers. Squeezing his hand trying to will herself to ignore the feeling of their eyes.

“Through Baron Kendrick and lady Amara are tragically gone they won’t be forgotten. Baroness despite being so young I know just like everyone who personally knew your parents know that they raised you to take over your family’s legacy,”

“Please! That girl is the down fall of the Fentress legacy. So covered with the welfare of those uncivilized pigs,” an elderly nobleman grumbles to one of his shared friends of the late Baron Kendrick.

“We need to gain control of it before she does something stupid,”

“I don’t see how! You mention the word marriage and she instantly ignores you,” The other old man rolled his eyes before saying “Shame she wants to be an old maid,”

“Ew!”

“I know!”

“Imagine! Anree scoffs loudly gaining the attention of the two and those close by " two men gossiping as if they are two bitter housewives jealous over the Baroness! Its like you've switched places with your scorned wives who know they lack your attention because it's on the Baroness. Wait—”

“Anree here isn’t the place—”

“That’s why you’re really upset! The Baroness won’t entertain the thought of ever being with you geezers …”

“You’re disgusting!”

“And you lack respect and decency,”

As the sunset flowers were passed around to toss into the ocean to say their final good byes.

Omorose stood right where the tide waves kicked her feet waiting a moment to toss the bouquet in so it appeared to the others that she was grieving how she was expected to. She let out a sigh as she threw the solid white flowers into the salty waters before retreating. She didn’t care to stay and watch the others toss their flowers in, she wanted to get back on her estate to have a moment to herself before she had to host the dinner for all who attended her parents watery funeral.

“You know you could just stay in your room. I’ll just tell everyone your not feeling well enough to host,” lord Reyes offers after catching up with Omorose.

“You know they don’t care about any of that, Rey. There’s no point in even trying to attempt that,” Omorose huffs climbing into her carriage, Reyes following close behind.

“It’s sick…them using your parents death to get a leg up.” Reyes sighs settling into the luxury seat he took. “Our society…”

“Makes you want to run away doesn’t it?”

“Actually I’m planning on going to Steelgate. Explore the city, maybe apply to their university …learn something you don’t already know!” Reyes teased.

Omorose cracked a smile “Impossible!”

“I know but it won’t hurt to try,” He jokes

-The Fentress estate-

A deep heavy sigh passed through Omorose who stood in front of her locked bedroom door snitching out the dress she changed into after arriving home. She knew 30 minutes was all she had upon arriving and those 30 minutes slipped by quicker than a rat in an ally.

She has to be back in front of everyone like she was expected too and she dreaded it.

The war and the death of her parents were the topics on everyone’s lips and she was tired of both. Like the smaller they were they found away too make both topics the reason what she should marry them.

“You’re young! 24 years right? With this war going on you need to be protected especially now that your parents are gone,” another one of her fathers close knit friends stated. “Rotten people have no problem manipulating someone as young and beautiful as you! You’re like a little kitten abandon in this world. I’m offering shelter,”

“So my family’s wealth, my title, my youth and beauty for your ‘protection’ and to be your trophy wife you get to dote on-sorry brag about to your friend who have already offered me the same?” Omorose questions raising a brow.

” Did you all have a meeting where you copied each other’s speeches?” The Baroness questioned unamused. The older man’s expression dropped from the faux sympathy and hope to the stoic demeanor Omorose one ask her fathers friends to have.

“Truth is no one believes you can run what your family built. They start quiet waiting for you to realize that beauty doesn’t room companies and estates.” He takes Omorose’s hand which she snatched away without a second thought.

“I’m the best option here! I’m richer than the others and still can produce heirs–”

“I want to be with someone around my age not my fathers,”

“Foolish! No man around your age has a quarter of what I have,”

Ignoring him Omorose’s turned on her heels moving towards the crowd and away from the secluded space one of the snakes caught her in.

“Are you okay?” Lana asked witnessing the whole thing.

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m use to this by now,” The Baroness assured paying her friend on the shoulder as she passed by.

It wasn’t long until dinner was announced ready and the chairs in the dining room was filled with mostly unwanted guests. As they all settled and the elaborate dinner was being served an elderly woman, the mother of a middle aged screw up began complementing the Fentress estate “seems awfully lonely being alone all by your lonesome,”

“I’m not alone. I have Nina, Malcolm, the triplets –”

“How sweet! She thinks the help is viable company!” The woman snickers, her eyes sweeping the room to see if anyone else found it funny.

“You need your own family. The Help won’t do!”

“They are my family! Have been since forever,”

“They are servants! Most from Intacia! You need to make a proper family! Pure blooded imperial family.”

Rolling her eyes Omorose picked up her glass of wine before calmly demanding

“For once can you all stop trying to pawn yourselves or your degenerate adult children on me? My parents were just ‘laid’ to rest! Have some respect,”

The night continued with whispers of disapproval and praises of her parents. Soon as the last unwanted guest left Anree cheered loudly as everyone else let out signed off relief. With a tired smile Omorose stares “now that they are gone, let us eat cake.”

So as the small group lounged in the family room slumped in chairs and laid out on couches and plush rugs eating the morning fresh cake, Intacian and imperial entered the last battle between each other. Castin standing in the front line staring menacingly at Andrei an imperial noble commander who looked on in disgust. By morning one country world be the Victor of the war. By morning everything would change.

Months later

Omorose’s stepped out of her carriage nervously running her hands over the course of her warm brown dress. Her eyes studying the palace of Intacia noting the stark difference between that one of the empire’s -what was once the empire’s. The two countries were polar opposites in many ways but, knowing the empire was the reason why Intacia looked other worldly made her sick. The trip over was nothing but slums and torched lands, discarded belongings and displaced families picking through it to see what they could salvage. For her to see up close what her people did only inspired her to quickly figure out what she could do to aid those way less fortunate than her.

“Rosie!” Called Aurelia from the top steps.

“Aurelia! It’s been years! Hectic and crazy years since I last saw you!”

“I know! Let’s never allow another war to separate us ever,”

“Let there’s never be another war,”

Rhett smiled at Castin who was grinning still high on the victory was winning the war.

“Coming to join another party, Rhett?” Castin asked bumping into a lower ranks drunkenly.

“You could say,” The king leaned aunt the wall watching as his soldiers drunk copious amounts of liquor and danced horribly “Aurelia’s friend is visiting- the Baroness and while Aurelia is getting her settled in the palace I wanted to visit you…see how you were doing after a few months,”

“On top of the world,brother!” The commander shouted leading his fellow soldiers to howl in agreement.

“Good …” Rhett trails faking a smile.

Snagging a cup of the strong brown liquid from a passing soldier and offering it to his friend, Castin let out a sigh knowing something was wrong “what is it Rhett?”

“Resistance…”

“Already?”

Nodding Rhett downed the drink before getting everything on his mind off his chest

“I have to figure out how to get the coastal empire and Intacia to become peaceful with each other—"

“Never going to happen!” Castin cuts in shaking his head at Rhett childish dream. “To much bad blood,”

“We have to try! If not there will be another war,”

Scoffing Castin rolled his eyes before spitting out his outlandish suggestion “how about we arrest all the empire military, their nobles and the rich and allow the poor to remain free and equal to us?”

“No Castin that wouldn’t be wise,”

“Worth a shot,” Castin huffs leaning into a chair that was open.

“So Aurelia’s friend …what’s she like?” He asked curious about the imperial Rhett welcomed into their country after years of war with her’s . Castin thought it was stupid! The idea of having an imperial stay in the palace as if the war never happened.

She’s kind, respectful , introverted—she reminds me of you,”

“What?!” Castin wrinkled his brows offended.

“Younger you! Before you joined the military. When you were just a boy in our village —”

“So boring?” Castin mutters under his breath

“Hmm?”

Oh I said I should come to the palace to meet the Queen’s friend. Who knows maybe I can charm her before I leave to fight the resistance. Never been with an imperial especially not a noble one,”

“From what my love has told me about the Baroness the only way you can bed her is in your dreams,brother”

“Oh please! I’ll have her feeling like she’s dreaming!” Castin snickers saving up the nearest man while a few female soldiers that heard rolled their eyes in annoyance.

Rhett cracked a plastic smile a laugh slipping past his slight chapped lips at his friend’s antics.

“You can’t take take every woman to bed, Castin.”

A ‘pshh’ pushed through Castin’s mouth “women can’t keep their pretty little hands off me,”

“More like you can’t keep your hands off them,” Rhett points out voicing the gossip he’s heard about his close friend.

“They’re irresistible… I’m irresistible . It’s a dilemma,” Castin chuckled

Rhett roll yes his eyes “I’m just saying Castin coming home to someone who actually cares and loves you beats spending countless nights at a brothel,”

Waving him off Castin turns in his seat waving down someone to bring him another drink.

“You deserve love Castin… before it’s too late —”

“I deserve to celebrate winning a war I put my life on the line for, Rhett! Loosen up!”

“This isn’t my type of scene anytime ,Castin. I’ve grown.”

“To a prude!”

“To a king!”

“Don’t try to get all up with me. We grew up in the same village, Rhett!”

“And it’s sad that you no longer want to grow! We can’t start rebuilding with our head commander being a drunk hound dog when he’s not in battle!”

“Let’s not do this here,” Castin hissed not liking the attention they were gaining.

“You’re right! We’ll have words when you’re sober.”

The room watched as the king marched out of the room bet everyone turned to their commander.

“We beat imperial asses! Drink to that!”

Authors note: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of the rewrite and excited for how the fanfic is going to be told! Please leave feedback in the comments and or repost! I love reading your thoughts!

#black!reader #asmr boyfriend #desmond asmr #fanfic #castinxbaroness #black oc #black!fem!reader #against the world around us #asmr roleplay

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d1xonss · 4 months

Text

Desert Rose

Chapter 33 ~ Woodbury

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 3

✧ Word Count : 6.8k

In this chapter ~ When saving the random injured woman that walked right up to their gates, she informs them of something terrible. Glenn and Maggie had been captured and taken to a town, leading the others to not hesitate as they formulated some kind of plan to get them back.

I finally unlocked the gate once she hit the ground, quickly running over and stabbing the few walkers that were just beginning to bend down and grab her. I ripped the blade out of their skulls, spinning around to kill off the ones that were now coming at me. As I kicked one in the chest harshly, preparing to throw my knife at its head, it suddenly fell to the ground as a gunshot was fired from behind me.

My head whipped around to see Rick standing there pointing his revolver, nodding to me as he tucked it away and began to rush over.

"Is she bit?" I heard Hershel ask from inside the gate, coming down upon hearing all the noise.

My gaze moved down towards her injury to look closer, glancing down at her leg as I shook my head, "Gunshot." I replied, "Rick help me get her up, Carl grab the supplies." I ordered and lifted her arm up over one of my shoulders, while Rick did the same with her other.

All four of us made our way back to the prison as quickly as possible, moving fast to get her inside and away from the lone walkers that still lingered. Once we made our way in through the heavy doors, Rick told Beth to get some water and a blanket, along with a towel for her wound. Carl set the blanket down on the ground towards the door, watching as we slowly lowered her onto the soft material, sitting her upright as her head continued to hang downward.

Beth returned quickly, handing us the things Rick requested and watched as he opened the bottle, beginning to pour the water over her face so she would wake. Her eyes blinked open only seconds later at the feeling, breathing heavily as she looked up to all of us in obvious fear.

I raised my hand out as I saw she was about to get up, "Hey, hey, it's okay." I assured her calmly.

She eyed me for a moment, before jumping to the side to try and reach for her weapon sitting close by, Rick quickly kicking it away from her before she could touch it, "No. We're not going to hurt you unless you try something stupid first, alright?" he spoke.

"Rose?"

I turned around when I heard the familiar voice, seeing Daryl coming out of the cellblock from behind us and I gave him a small smile. He didn't return it however, only looking confused and defensive as he slowly walked over, "Who the hell is this?"

Rick looked back to the woman with a tilt of his head, "You want to tell us your name?"

She didn't say anything, only staring right back at him with a cold glare and her lips sealed shut. My arm was then being slowly pulled away from her by my elbow, looking back to see Daryl as he eyed her suspiciously, "Oh for the love of God." I muttered to myself.

"Hey, I heard that." he said.

"Well, I said it loud." I replied with a sarcastic smile.

He rolled his eyes and swung his arm around my shoulders to pull me back further, turning back towards the group, "Y'all come on in here for a sec. Yer gonna want to see this."

The man guided me back into the cellblock gently, leading into an occupied room where a figure was lying down on the bed. It took me a moment to process who it was but once I knew for sure, I quickly tackled her in a hug. She laughed lightly and hugged me back while placing a kiss on the side of my head. I couldn't believe it was Carol.

Everyone told me when Daryl and Maggie were out on that run, that her and T-Dog sadly didn't make it when all the chaos erupted. Though I guess my mind was too clouded with the thoughts of Lori and the baby to fully process what they meant by "didn't make it." But now that I saw her physically standing in front of me, I was so relieved she was alright.

Rick quickly moved in next, swinging his arms around her just as I did with a breath, "Poor thing fought her way into a cell, must've passed out. Dehydrated." Daryl informed.

She finished greeting Rick and Hershel with tearful eyes, making her way down the line as Beth then stood right in front of her with the baby in her arms. She gasped lightly and turned towards Rick with a shocked smile, but her face immediately dropped when she noticed the solemn look on his features, apologizing profusely as she placed a hand on his cheek.

I pressed my lips together and shut my eyes, feeling Daryl's hand start to rub my back soothingly. The memories only came flooding back as I watched Carol process the loss of whom she considered a friend. I heard Carl sniff next to me and I instantly wrapped my arm around his shoulders and placed a kiss on his head as he leaned further into me. We all had a moment of silence after that, for Lori, for T-Dog, and it was much needed as we honored our time we had with them. Even if it seemed short.

But I noticed out of the corner of my eye, the woman had got up from where she was sitting and stood behind the door watching us. Though it wasn't in a way that made me uncomfortable. She looked at all of us huddled together as if she felt sorry, like she somehow knew we lost someone important.

And just from that one look, I could tell she was a good person. Not someone we needed to be threatened by.

After a few moments, we left Beth and the baby alone with Carol, knowing that she needed to rest but didn't want to be left completely alone. The rest of us walked back out into the common room, seeing the woman sitting on one of the tables as she waited for us to return. Sensing that we would want the full story on how she found us.

"We can tend to your wound, give you a little food and water and then send you on your way. But you're gonna have to tell us how you found us, and why you were carrying formula." Rick said.

Her gaze remained on him for a long moment before she finally spoke, "The supplies were dropped by a young Asian guy, with a pretty girl."

My heart sank to my ass and I instantly got chills; I should've gone with them. "What happened?" I asked her.

"They were taken." she said as she released a breath.

"Taken by who?" Rick stepped in.

"By the same son of a bitch who shot me." she responded bluntly.

Rick waited for her to go on, to tell us more about what she knew because there always seemed to be more, but she grew silent. He clearly didn't have the patience nor the time, the next thing I knew I was watching him approach her more threateningly, "Hey these are our people, you tell us what happened now!" he yelled while putting pressure on her wound.

She gasped in pain and shoved him away harshly, "Don't you ever touch me again!" she yelled back.

Daryl quickly raised his crossbow in her face as he watched her outburst, "You'd better start talkin. Or yer gonna have a much bigger problem than a gunshot wound." he said lowly.

"Hey!" I yelled, "She was talking to us, I don't think it's necessary to put a bolt in between her eyes." I snapped as I shoved Daryl's weapon out of her face.

She looked at me with a somewhat grateful expression as I turned back to face her, "You obviously came here for a reason...just tell us what you know." I spoke softly.

She paused and stared at me for a moment before sighing heavily at the information she was about to give, "There's a town, Woodbury. About seventy-five survivors, I think your people were taken there."

"A whole town?" Rick asked from beside me.

I immediately pushed his chest so he would back up, "Nope, no, you lost your privilege. I'm talking to her now." I spoke.

He rolled his eyes but backed off, "It's run by this guy who calls himself The Governor. Pretty boy, charming, Jim Jones type." she continued.

"He has muscle?" I asked.

"Paramilitary wannabes," she replied, "They have armed sentries on every wall."

"Do you know a way in?"

"The place is secure from walkers, but we could slip our way through. We'd have to be slow, careful, but it's possible."

I stopped for a moment as it dawned on me how easily she got back here, "How did you know where to find us?"

"They mentioned a prison, said which direction it was in. Said it was a straight shot." she informed.

I just nodded my head as I put all the pieces together. She knew where they were, how to get in, and seemed willing to help us for the time being. I figured if we left within an hour we could get them back here by tomorrow, already working out some kind of plan in my head. But my eyes then traveled down towards the gash in her leg, knowing she wouldn't be able to go anywhere without having it fixed up.

"Hershel?" I called, watching him get up from his place, "This is Hershel, the father of the girl who was taken. He can help you with your wound, he's a doctor." I said to the woman.

She stayed silent, though nodded in appreciation.

I sent her a small smile before turning back around to head towards the cellblock, passing by the two men standing behind me as I smiled to myself, "That's how you get information. I thought you'd have that down by now sheriff." I spoke knowingly before patting his shoulder as I passed by.

I could almost hear Rick rolling his eyes from behind me, but I know I definitely heard Daryl mumble, "That's my girl."

We were quick to gather the rest of the group in the smaller space, now going back and forth with one another about what our next move would be. I tried to put my worry aside for Maggie and Glenn, but it was hard considering they were my best friends. We hardly knew anything about this town or the people behind the walls, leaving us clueless about what could be happening to them. But I couldn't panic, I just had to get them out of there. If I were to panic I knew I would just want to go in there guns blazing. But we had to think it through so we could surely get them out of there alive.

"How do we know we can trust her?" Oscar asked.

My brow furrowed as I looked at him, "You really think she just showed up to drop off some supplies, making up a story along the way? She wants to help."

"This is Maggie and Glenn, why are we even debating?" Beth slightly snapped, watching the conversation going around in too many circles.

"We ain't." Daryl said, "I'll go after em."

"Not alone." I quickly corrected, "We need the numbers in case things get bad with these people."

Beth raised up her hand, "I'll go." she offered.

"Me too." Axel stepped in.

Oscar paused for a minute, before finally giving in and nodding to himself, "I'm in."

In the end of our little discussion that took far too long for my liking, we decided to split the group in half. One would stay here and keep an eye on things just in case, while a handful of us would head out to get them back. I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but I was prepared for anything. Anything if it meant getting the two of them back here safe.

I was walking out of the prison with my weapons, heading over to the car we were taking to place them in the trunk, when I saw Daryl slip on his leather vest from just a couple feet away. I didn't fail to notice how he seemed to wear it all the time just as he promised, the memory alone bringing a small smile to my face.

Carl stood rummaging around in the back of the car, helping place some extra supplies inside as I walked up next to him to do the same. I took everything off my shoulders, emptying my hands into the trunk of the vehicle, before I looked over to the kid who now stood there glancing around worriedly.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked, getting down to his level.

He shrugged, "Just...be careful out there. I...I can't lose you too."

My heart broke slightly at his words, and I didn't hesitate to pull him in for a hug, "You won't lose me, okay?" I whispered, "We're going to go, and bring Glenn and Maggie back safe, it's all gonna be fine."

He nodded his head against my shoulder, but his grip only tightened on me, his hat tipping a little off of his head. I pulled away after only a few moments, looking him in the eye as I adjusted the large hat atop his head.

"Take care of things around here, yeah? I don't care what your dad says, you're in charge." I spoke with a growing smile.

Though trying to suppress it at first, he managed a smile too as he nodded, "Okay."

Our attention was then pulled from one another as Rick called his name from the right, causing him to send me a subtle thumbs up before he was backing off towards his dad.

My eyes followed him for a moment before I slammed the trunk shut, watching everyone start to pile inside the vehicle after finishing up their goodbyes. I scanned the small area where our people stood outside to see us out, waving one last time at the remaining few before my eyes then caught sight of Beth. She stood a bit slumped by the front gate, waiting to open it for us when we were finally ready to leave, but I couldn't help but frown at the saddened look she had on her face.

In my mind, she was having some of the same thoughts that Carl was moments ago, tugging at my heartstrings as I slowly walked over to talk to her before we left.

The second I got close enough, she spoke first, "Do you have to go?" she asked quietly.

I gave her a sad smile, "Yeah...I do. But don't worry I'll be back before you know it, and I'll bring your sister home safe."

She looked up at me, tears glazing over her eyes, "What am I supposed to do if both of my sisters are gone?" she asked.

It took me a moment before the realization hit me on what she meant, making it even harder to leave than it was before. "Oh honey," I sighed as I brought her into a hug, "I'll be safe out there, I promise. I'll come back."

She nodded her head tearfully, giving me one final squeeze before letting me go, giving me a small smile of reassurance before slowly heading back over to the gate to open it for us. At the sound of a honk, I turned to see an arm sticking out the car window, waving me back so we could move. I waved at her one last time before rushing back over towards the vehicle, hopping in the backseat as Rick didn't hesitate to drive off in an instant, determined to get our people back.

We had been on the road for about an hour or two before we pulled over to the side once we got close enough to the destination. The woman informed us that at this point we would be better off on foot as to not draw more attention to us. She said it was no more than two more miles to the town, leading us to walk through some kind of short cut through the woods. I mostly kept to myself as we moved, trying to listen for anything nearby while also trying not to think too much about what would happen once we were inside. It was no secret that I was worried, we all were, yet we seemed to keep it from one another as if we weren't thinking the exact same things about the situation.

My eyes only looked up once I noticed Rick and Daryl having some kind of hushed conversation, one that I was just out of earshot to hear. That alone only reminded myself of the talk he tried to have with me, knowing that he hadn't forgotten about it either. But it was safe to say now wasn't exactly the time to get all sappy with one another. I would avoid it forever if I could.

The sounds of sudden snarls quickly caught all of our attention at once, instantly getting low to the ground as if it were a chain reaction. But we all realized that there were far too many for them to just ignore us and move on. We tried to kill most of the ones approaching us fast, stabbing each of them with our handheld weapons, but soon realized after a few moments that there were too many of them to take by ourselves. With one wide eyed glance at each other, none of us hesitated to run further down the path in a line, away from the remaining dead ones.

Our breaths were heavy as we trucked through the trees, passing by dirt roads, trying to avoid the walkers reach. They were still hot on our trail, all the way up until we spotted a small cabin tucked away behind the greenery, making a beeline for it to hide out in there. Daryl was the first to make it to the entrance, tugging and pushing on it though it was locked from the inside. In a state of panic, Rick pushed him aside as he began kicking it repeatedly, before the door finally flew open with a loud slam, the lock shattering.

Rick went in first with his flashlight raised high, followed by the rest of us as we quickly shut the door before the walkers could get too close. As soon as I stepped in, I gagged at the smell that filled the entire house, the stench almost bringing me to my knees. The rest had the same reaction that I did, covering their noses with their arms as they scoped the place out.

"That smell is loud." Daryl said while trying to figure out where it was coming from.

Rick looked over at me as I continued to obviously struggle, "You okay?" he asked as he breathed through his mouth.

I nodded my head, swallowing the lump in my throat, "Yeah...just trying not to puke."

"Fair enough." he replied, turning back around to follow Daryl through the quiet house.

The rest of us slowly trailed behind them, looking at the many shelves lined up with a bunch of junk and a desk scooted off towards the side, "What the hell is that?" Oscar asked from beside me.

I followed his line of sight right as Daryl peered over, "Gotta be a fox...or what's left of one." he muttered as we all stared at the dead rotting animal just barely a few feet away from us.

Rick shined his flashlight over the animal, "It's a dog." I stated while covering my nose.

"Guess Lassie went home." Daryl said with a smirk on his face, bumping my shoulder as he expected me to laugh.

I raised my eyebrows in faux amusement with a nod, "Hilarious." I deadpanned before moving past him to scope out the rest of the space.

There was now loud banging at the front door, the walkers catching up and trying to claw their way inside. We all whipped our heads toward the sound, but were relieved that none of them were successful, seeing someone had propped a chair up against the handle.

Everyone continued to spread out, but I paused in my tracks as I saw a thick blanket covering something rather big. I let out a single whistle to grab their attention, Rick and Daryl at my side within seconds to see what I had found. Without hesitation, Rick placed his hand over the material, silently counting down with his other hand before ripping the thing off quickly.

A man instantly jumped up from where he was laying, pointing a gun at all of our faces as he began to panic with wide eyes, "Who the hell are you?!" he asked loudly.

"Woah, woah, we don't mean any harm." Rick said calmly.

"Get out of my house!" he yelled.

Rick put a hand out in front of him, trying to put some distance between us and the wielding weapon, "Okay, okay. We will, but we can't right now."

"Now!" he demanded.

"Shut him up." the woman snapped harshly, noting the dead corpses outside now banging even louder to try and get in.

"Get out right now!" he yelled again.

I had enough as I snapped in his direction "Hey!" I whisper yelled, "There are walkers outside. Do you have a death wish or something?" I said through gritted teeth.

He paused for a moment in genuine confusion, "I'll call the cops." he threatened.

"I am a cop, now I need you to lower the gun. Don't do anything rash, everything's fine let's just take this nice and slow...okay?" Rick said.

The man took a risky glance at the rest of us, "Look at me." Rick said to get his attention, "Hey, hey."

He suddenly aimed the gun right at Rick's head and my hand hovered over my knife, but one wave of Rick's hand was enough for me to falter, "Show me your badge!" the man demanded.

"Alright, it's in my pocket. Now I'm going to reach down nice and slow..." Rick said as his hand moved down to his pants. But as soon as the man's eyes darted away from him slightly, Rick knocked the gun out of his hands, a bullet firing off to the side as his finger hovered over the trigger.

Rick's arms immediately went around the man's shoulders in attempts to contain him, but it only spurred him on more. He flailed around and carelessly screamed in his grasp, Rick's hand flying over his mouth to try and finally silence him. But the man played dirty, biting Rick's hand harsh enough for him to groan loudly and let go.

He made a run for it towards the door the moment he was free, but the woman was one step ahead. As he barely brushed his fingertips against the handle, she took her sword and stabbed him from behind, the blade going completely through his chest before he fell limp to the ground.

I raised my eyebrows at her, "Well, that'll do it."

I could've sworn I saw a ghost of a smile appear on her face but her head snapped back towards the door, hearing just how many walkers were attracted to the man's screams. We had to act fast, cause a distraction somehow for even a sliver of a chance to get out of here.

Rick suddenly then moved towards the front in record speed, placing his ear up to the door before his eyes trailed down towards the dead stranger. He didn't waste a single second before he let out a whistle, gesturing Daryl over to give him a hand.

"You've gotta be kidding." Oscar said, knowing exactly where this was leading.

"He's dead." he obviously stated, "You and Rose check the back." he said while lifting the man up.

Oscar didn't move at first as his eyes stayed down, only snapping out of his small trance when I placed my hand on his arm, nodding back for him to follow. I pushed the door open with a creak, looking out through a small crack to see that none of the walkers had made their way back there and it was clear enough for us to make a run for it.

"Clear." I quietly yelled over to them.

They nodded before quickly throwing the man outside at my signal, slamming the door shut behind them before making their way towards us and out the back door. We all quickly sprinted right past the walkers while they were distracted with their new meal, so we could finally get back on the road.

By the time we finally made it to the gates of the small town, it was completely dark, making it even harder to see if we were being watched. We quietly stalked low to the ground, spotting an abandoned car just off to the side of the main gates, hiding us from the people on watch up at the top. We watched their movements for a few seconds, noticing how they had giant lights that were constantly scanning around the area as they looked for threats.

Everyone quickly began to get impatient just sitting there, waiting for a moment where they would falter so we could slip in like the woman said. Though right as I was thinking of a way we could all get past, she apparently decided to sneak off back towards the woods without us and all our heads snapped in her direction the second her movement hit our ears.

"Hey. Hey!" Rick whisper yelled.

She stayed behind the shadows, moving forward to God only knows whereas Rick groaned in frustration, "Alright, we need to downsize." he said.

"Ain't no way we're gonna check all them buildings. Not with all them guards there." Daryl stated while silently handing me a gun.

I took it from his hands, placing it behind my back when suddenly a branch snapped. All of us quickly had our weapons drawn, but it was the woman mouthing something to us, pointing in the direction she went off to for us to follow.

"Let's go." I said, being the first one to move forward and follow her into the dark.

Everyone quickly maneuvered through an opening she found in the gate, squeezing through quietly as she then moved towards a building that was familiar to her. She looked back to make sure we all made it through silently, before opening the door and leading us inside.

The place was completely dark and empty, noticing that we had come in through the back door as there were windows towards the front that gave us a perfect view of the rest of the town.

"This is where you were held?" I asked her.

"Where I was questioned." she corrected with a nod.

Rick stepped in, "Any idea where else they could be?"

Daryl made his way over to one of the windows and I copied his actions, moving the curtain slightly so I was able to peek through the space. The streets were lit up brightly, leaving us little to no room to be able to sneak through without getting seen. But then a few people walking on the sidewalk just outside caught my attention, laughing and having a conversation side by side.

"I thought you said there was a curfew." I said while backing up before they could catch a glimpse of me inside.

"The street is packed during the day. Those are stragglers." she informed.

Rick was getting anxious as he let out a deep sigh, "Anyone comes in here we're sitting ducks. We gotta move."

"They could be in his apartment." she said.

"Yeah? What if they ain't?" Daryl asked with harshness to his tone.

"Then we'll look somewhere else." she snapped slightly.

Rick stepped forward, getting in her face, "You said you could help us."

"I'm doing what I can."

"Then where the hell are they?" Oscar asked.

She didn't respond as she truly didn't know, thinking they could be anywhere at this point if they weren't being held here like she was. Rick was growing more impatient, whispering for us to come over and talk to him a few feet away from her.

He walked back far enough, waiting for a moment before saying, "If this goes south, we're cutting her loose." he whispered.

"No, we're not." I snapped at him.

He gave me a pointed look and I mocked his expression as if he was stupid, "She's helping us the best she can, we're not just feeding her to the wolves here. What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked unironically, before turning to walk back towards her, not caring enough to hear the rest of the conversation.

The woman stood back slightly as she looked out the windows, not paying the rest of them any mind as they were very clearly talking about her. She only minded her business, reaching down slightly to take a look at her leg, gritting her teeth a little in pain as she touched the sensitive part.

"How's your leg?" I asked her softly.

Her head snapped up to me in surprise, taking a few seconds to respond. "It's fine." she eventually muttered.

"Good." I said with a nod of my head, turning around to glance at the guys to make sure they couldn't hear me, "Sorry about them. Men, am I right?" I muttered while scrunching my nose up in disgust.

She gave the tiniest smile, nodding in agreement as I let out a huff of a laugh. But the moment was over quicker than I could even process.

Sudden knocking from the front door is what caused us all to freeze in our places. The next noise filling the outside was keys jingling in the doorhandle as the person attempted to unlock it. I cursed under my breath as I scanned the area for a place to hide, seeing a curtain that led to a small, tucked away space and made a beeline for it without a second thought. I ignored my name behind called from behind me as I quickly hid behind the thin fabric, placing my back up against the left side of the wall and holding my breath in anticipation.

But a sharp gasp left my lips in surprise when Rick barged his way in the small space, facing me as his back hit something hard behind him and he grunted in pain with tightly shut eyes.

"Hey! Go find your own place to hide." I whisper yelled.

He rubbed the sore spot, "There aren't any other places." he argued.

His feet moved around wildly as he tried to fit in the corner, stepping directly on my foot, "Ow you just stepped on my-"

He quickly covered my mouth with his hand before I could finish, and I gave him a pointed look. He raised his pointer finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet as he listened for the person to come in and make themselves known.

"I will lick your hand." I threatened, my voice slightly muffled.

His eyes widened, "Don't." he quietly snapped.

"Then get the hell off me." I demanded, shoving his chest further away from me right as the front door finally swung open.

His back hit the same spot that it had earlier, watching as he tightly closed his eyes as he tried desperately not to make a single noise.

"I know you're in here." a male voice called out, "I saw you moving from outside."

My eyes widened as I heard the man's footsteps only getting closer to us. I hoped Rick had a plan on how to take this guy out because I sure as hell didn't know what to do. It was like the most fucked up game of hide and seek I've ever played.

"Alright now, you're not supposed to me here and you know it." the voice said again, his shadow coming right in front of the curtain as he stood there and listened.

In a single swift movement, Rick shoved the barrier out of the way and took the gun the man had in his hands, maneuvering it up towards the ceiling as a single shot was fired. His forearm was against the man's throat as he pinned him up on the wall, trying to take the weapon away from him with just one hand.

I made a move from behind our hiding spot seeing he was struggling, rushing up to the two and prying the weapon from the man's grasp as he struggled to hold onto it. Rick then saw he was defenseless, whistling for Daryl to come over as he got the man down on his knees, Daryl coming up behind him to zip tie his wrists together.

"Where are our people?" Rick asked in a cold tone, getting in front of his face.

"I- I don't know." the man stated frantically.

Rick grabbed his cheeks as his anger bubbled further, "You are holding some of our people, where the hell are they?" he asked more aggressively.

"I don't know." the man said again.

Rick tugged away from his face harshly as he walked away, letting out a deep sigh as we were nowhere closer to pinpoint them in this so-called small town.

The man then began to stutter, clearly growing more afraid as he realized how many people he was actually up against and I grew tired of that in about two seconds as my gaze trailed back down to him. Looking up to see a frying pan hung up on the nearby wall, I quickly took the handle in my hand and slammed it harshly on the back of his head. He fell limp in a split second, knocked out cold as he face planted on the ground.

"Thanks for nothing." I muttered bitterly.

That's when we all heard sudden gun fire from just outside and seeing people run frantically in the streets from the slightly opened curtains. We all looked at each other for a second before quickly making our way towards the door, Rick opening it cautiously.

He led the way to where the gun fire was shot, leading towards a random building in the middle of the town. All of us were light on our feet as we moved, trying not to draw too much attention as people rushed by us, pushing through in a panic. We made our way inside the building quickly and quietly, stopping when Rick had his back up against the wall, raising his hand up in a fist for all of us to stop. We all followed his movements and waited.

We heard voices and footsteps and Rick quickly pulled out a smoke bomb from his bag and threw it towards the sound of people coming our way from around the corner, right before they could spot us. They yelled suddenly when the smoke began to rise, and it was hard to see anything as their coughs filled the air. Rick then harshly threw his hand down as he was the first to move, squinting through the smoke to see if our people were in here.

I turned the corner, following Rick's figure as best as I could as I coughed into my arm every few seconds, noticing his shadow stilled for a moment. He then grabbed onto a man by the arm, pulling him through the smoke and back towards the outside. I barely got a good look, but I could only assume the man was Glenn as I spotted a woman a few feet away from me, a bag covering her face. Maggie.

I rushed over to her quickly, taking her by the hand to pull the bag over her head and lead her out of the building, dodging the men lingering in every turn we made as they blindly tried to find us. Daryl covered us from behind as we booked it out the front doors, following Rick down the street and into safe place so we could lay low and catch our breath.

When we all made it inside, Daryl slammed the doors behind us and I gently let go of Maggie and took my gun to scope out the place, checking every hiding place and around in the back to make sure it was empty. Once I didn't see anything, her and I made eye contact from across the room and ran towards each other instantly. I discarded my gun on the floor and wrapped my arms around her shoulders as she started to cry.

"Are you okay?" I asked frantically, as I held onto her tightly. She sniffled and nodded her head and pulled away. I took her face in my hands and wiped her tears away, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Oh, thank God you're here." she cried.

"We're here." I reassured her as I brought her into my arms again with a breath.

We finally pulled apart from each other when I heard a groan coming from the floor, seeing Glenn sitting down on the ground in pain, his face covered in blood. His eye was black and blue, so swollen that I could barely see his eye at all. I quickly walked over to him, sitting next to him on the floor as I reached out to touch his shoulder lightly.

"Oh my God, Glenn." I whispered as I got a better look at his face, noticing that his clothes were torn to shreds as well.

"Rose?" he questioned with a slight smile.

I smiled sadly, "It's me hon, are you okay?" I asked while placing my hand on the side of his face.

He winced slightly but nodded, "Yeah...yeah."

I felt my eyes mist with tears at the sight of him so beaten and bruised, yet somehow still smiling as he saw we had found them. I kissed his forehead and brought him into a gentle hug, being as careful as I could to not hurt him more than he already was.

Rick got down to his level, stepping away from the window as he asked, "How bad are you hurt?"

"I'll be okay." he assured.

"Where's that woman?" Maggie asked suddenly, her eyes scanning around to see that she was nowhere in the room with us anymore.

"She was right behind us." Rick said while going back to the window, "Damnit." he silently cursed to himself as he did a scan over the streets.

"Maybe someone spotted her." I said.

"Want me to go look for her?" Daryl asked.

Rick shook his head, "No, we gotta get them out of here. She's on her own."

I wanted to argue with him, that we needed to make sure she was okay, but with just one more look towards Glenn I knew we couldn't. We had to get the two of them out of here before people started to realize they were gone.

"Daryl, this was Merle." Glenn said suddenly. I froze at that name, and so did Daryl. My eyes slowly seemed to find his from his hovering figure above me, his frame standing rigid as Glenn continued, "It was, he did this."

"You saw him?" Rick asked.

"Face to face." he confirmed, "Threw a walker at me, he was going to execute us."

Daryl was stunned, though he tried desperately to hide it, "So...my brother's this Governor?" he asked with a slight shake to his voice.

"No, he's somebody else, your brother's his lieutenant or something." Maggie said.

Daryl reached down to grab my shoulder gently, probably still trying to wrap his head around this as time seemed to stand still. "Does...does he know m' still with ya?" he asked.

"He does now. Rick, I'm sorry we told him where the prison was. We couldn't hold out." Glenn tried to explain.

Rick got down to eye level with him and quickly shook his head, "Don't. No need to apologize."

Maggie continued, "They're going to be looking for us."

"We have to get back," Rick said, "Can you walk? We've got cars a few miles out." he informed Glenn.

"I'm good." Glenn grunted, gesturing for my hand as I shakily helped him stand up to his full height.

Daryl's breathing became heavy from just behind me as he spoke, "Hey, if Merle's around I- I need to see him."

I turned around to look at him in slight disbelief, "Daryl, no. We have to leave now."

"Rosie I gotta, he's my brother-"

"Look what he did!" I yelled with a quiver in my voice.

He stopped for a minute to look at Glenn, his eyes holding so much emotion as he glanced between the two of us.

Rick stepped in when he couldn't seem to say anything else, "Look we gotta- we gotta get out of here now."

"Maybe I can talk to him, maybe I can work somethin out." Daryl pleaded.

Rick was growing frustrated, "No, no, you're not thinking straight. Look, no matter what they say they're hurt. Glenn can barely walk, how are we gonna make it out if we get overrun by walkers and this Governor catches up to us? We need you! Are you with me?"

Daryl looked from Rick to me, his eyes lingering when they locked again with mine. He bit his lip anxiously as he thought about all of this for a few seconds, a few seconds that we didn't have to spare.

His gaze pulled away from me as he gave the man a slight nod, "Yeah."

I narrowed my eyes at him, noticing how he could no longer look at me when he answered.

He was lying.

~ Thanks for reading!

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