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silvercrystalwhump · 3 years

Text

Read like a Book

Vincent belongs to @ashintheairlikesnow

Tag List: @whumpitywhumpwhump

TW: past noncon (implied), self victim-blaming, spice (doesn’t occur),

"Is this something new or is it just the usual?" Dmitri asks, violently ripping Vincent from the brink, the tether holding him to reality going taught and ripping him back.

"Hmm! Um, what do you mean?" Vincent asks as he comes back from his personal void. He realizes quickly that he's draped across Dmitri. The two, silently feeling the warm evening air, are out on Vincent's back porch. The sound of night peepers echoes around Vincent's house and the bubbling of his hot tub creates a calm white noise. The air seems slow-moving, like a leaf floating on the surface of a lake.

It's nighttime, Vincent realizes. The two sat out here around dinner, just enjoying the warm summer air. They both came home and quickly migrated towards each other. Then, they went out.

Dmitri chuckles, "You faded Vee. I tried to get your attention a while ago and you kinda just fell on me. So is this the usual issue or is it something new?"

"Issue? Nothing's wrong Dmitri. I'm-"

"-Fine, I know you are Vee. You wouldn't be this cuddly if something tipped you off the edge. But I can't tell this is one of your… moments." Dmitri says as he rubs his hand across Vincent's back. Vincent rests his head on Dimitri’s shoulder, allowing warmth to slowly pull the rest of him from the brink.

He wasn't having one of his moments, as Dmitri had dubbed them. He just left his mind for a while. A memory, one made of tears and pain, tried to bubble up to the surface and break the tranquility of their evening. Vincent was gone before it burst.

Dmitri was impossibly good at spotting them. Yet, he never seems to be fazed by Vincent’s vacations into the shallow pools of his own mind. Even when it takes hours for him to return.

"Just… vacated for a bit I guess."

Dmitri gives Vincent a kind smile, “Well, let’s vacate upstairs shall we. Both of us have a long day tomorrow.”

“Do we have to?” Vincent groans mockingly, an uncertainty sitting in Vincent’s head, “I like sitting out here with you.”

Dmitri rolls his eyes and scoops up Vincent into his arms. “Well, I like it as well but I have work tomorrow, setting up the second shop and all. So I need sleep.”

Vincent leans up and kisses Dmitri on the underside of his chin, “Fine, since you have to.”

Dark eyes look down on his lover and Vincent watches the tiniest shift in Dmitri’s gaze. It is so subtle that only Vincent, with his now years of experience with Dmitri, can see it. Vincent keeps himself from rolling his eyes, his lover always has had that kind of gaze every so often.

He was good at hiding it too.

What if he starts to ask questions?

Vincent bites back the question. It has been over a year since they committed to each other, why would Dmitri start questioning him now? He has had no interest in knowing about why Vincent was so averse to that form of intimacy before so why would he now.

It’s been a while. Most couples are past that already.

Vincent feels a sweetened dread seep into his stomach as Dmitri sets him down on his bed. Thousands of tiny what-ifs fly past Vincent’s vision as Dmitri stands. Crawling under his skin, the worries burrow deeper.

You should be past that.

“I’ma go change,” Dmitri says as he turns for the one drawer in Vincent’s dresser dedicated to Dmitri’s stuff. “Be back in a sec.”

Vincent sits on the bed, losing himself to his worries. The sheets cool under his skin. His eyes follow Dmitri out of the room and watch the door close behind him. Every passing possibility slowly devolves into something improbable and it’s maddening. Then, a voice that doesn't sound like it belongs to him, mutters sarcastically in his mind.

One time is not going to kill you.

Vincent exhales and sits back. The dread in his stomach starts to be smothered by a different feeling. A sort of anticipating fear blooms in its stead. As if his body was making the decision before his mind could register.

One time won’t hurt, right?

It’ll just be one time.

Vincent takes a deep breath and pulls up an acting face. He starts to feel detached like a layer of air spreading between the layers of his skin. He starts to feel the pull back into his mind but he holds his attention in front of him. It feels like pinning his conscience out in front of him, even with the squirming anticipation trying to unlatch it.

Dmitri knows when I fade. I can’t fade during this.

Acting is all in the eyes. If the eyes don’t match the role, the entire scene is ruined. The eyes make things convincing, they are what separate the actor from the character.

The eyes are what give me away.

Dmitri opens the door and walks towards the bed. Tiredness pulls at his eyes just enough for them to droop but not close. He sits on the bed next to Vincent, a warm smile growing across his face and lighting up the dim room. Dmitri leans back on a hand and brushes some of his braids out of his face.

“You know,” Vincent says, sliding into a character of himself, “We’ve had… some hiccups in the past between the two of us.”

Dmitri, raising an eyebrow, asks, “What do you mean by that?”

Vincent swings his leg over Dmitri’s lap and wraps his legs around his torso, “Well, intimacy has not been something we’ve done very much and I was thinking that we could change that today.”

Dmitri cocks an eyebrow in curious confusion, “And what do you mean by that?” There’s intrigue in Dmitri’s voice, the hint of mischief that Vincent is looking for.

Vincent rests his arms across Dmitri’s shoulders and presses his lips to Dmitri’s. He can taste the remnants of sugary frosting on the man’s lips. Their breath entangles and Vincent mutters into Dmitri’s lips, “Use your imagination.”

Then, Vincent feels Dmitri’s hand slide around to the small of his back and press him firmly into his chest. Pressing into Dmitri, Vincent lets himself be leaned back and pressed into the sheets. Vincent throws his legs around Dmitri’s waist and lets his hips press into Dmitri’s. Swallowing a forbidden ichor, Vincent lets himself fall deep into the desires that boil under his skin. Thoughts that would make Aphrodite blush nibble at the ends of Vincent’s fingers. Vincent’s fingers reach up and pull Dmitri down to his lips. They meet.

Stirring behind Vincent’s eyes, he realizes what he’s doing. He feels almost jolted aware suddenly. The tidal wave of fear previously blocked by a cloud of arousal is gone and just the looming beast remains.

Vincent is very aware of the mask he is holding over his thoughts. It slips ever so slightly. Vincent, using all of his attention, pulls it back over his face.

You want this.

Vincent presses deeper into the kiss.

You want this.

He tries to forget what he’s doing.

You want this.

Dmitri’s lips shift from Vincent’s down to his neck.

You wanted this.

As Dmitri comes up for air, he pauses, eyes scanning across Vincent’s face. Vincent brings an almost dreamy smile to his lips and tips his head to the side. Intrigue, that’s the feeling on Vincent’s face.

You signed up for this Vincent. You committed. See it through.

Dmitri’s expression drops. The lustrous curiosity vaporizing and tiredness fills its place. Dmitri pulls Vincent close to him and rolls over, positioning Vincent partially on top of him.

Vincent is very confused.

“Just go to sleep Vee,” Dmitri mumbles, clearly holding back more words.

Vincent props his head on Dmitri’s chest, letting the confusion seep through the playful mask he clutches to his face, hiding the breath-stealing fear. “What’s wrong?”

Dmitri sighs and pulls the covers up over Vincent’s shoulder, “I’m just... done.”

“Did I do something wrong?” A crack forms in the mask and the water of reality starts to drip across his face. What did I do?

“Vee- I- you clearly don’t want to do this, so don’t,” Dmitri says, frustration in his voice, “Just go to sleep, we both have stuff to do tomorrow.”

Vincent sits up and tries to repair the now crumbling mask. He can feel it chip away in every twitch of his facial muscles. Things he should have trained to keep straight and in the right position. Why is it failing me now?

“What do you mean? I wouldn't have started this if I didn’t want it.” The statement is far weaker than how it sounds in Vincent’s head.

Dmitri rubs the bridge of his nose and props himself up on an elbow. In the dim light of Vincent’s bedroom, Dmitri almost looks angry. He slowly pulls himself upright and sighs, “You might have started this, but you also look scared Vincent.”

The voice that’s not quite his, echoes in Vincent’s mine. Don’t look so scared, you want this.

“I’m not scared,” Vincent says as he comes to the terrifying conclusion that the mask he’s been wearing is completely gone now. All Dmitri sees is someone too scared to sit in his own skin.

“Please Vee,” Dmitri exhales. He rubs his eyes and sits forward. There’s frustration in his eyes, the kind that leaves a lot to the imagination. His fingers wrap around Vincent’s shoulder and Dmitri meets his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I love you,” Vincent says, voice rapidly getting smaller, “Because, um, that’s what couples do together.”

Dmitri sighs, the hands that are on Vincent's shoulders tightening around his skin. Vincent, at the moment, wants to take back the last thirty minutes of decisions he just made. The feeling of hot shame eats at the skin on his face.

"I'm sorry," Vincent stampers, "I should've thought this through-"

"Vee," Dmitri asks, staring dead into Vincent's eyes. Concern coats his face and opens confusion spills from his mouth. "What were you trying to do?"

Vincent didn't want to be in his own skin right now. The shame and terror were not going away fast enough. "I was hoping you would ignore it..."

"You were hoping I would ignore the fact you looked terrified and just, have sex with you?" Dmitri states with the tiniest bits of disgust and waves of worry filtering through his words. "We have a word for that, that's called rape."

"Nonononono, I just- I shouldn't've- I- I kept telling you no but I love you and I just to make up for-"

Dmitri pulls Vincent into his chest, horror coating every fiber of his mind. Vincent feels the warmth of Dmitri's skin and realizes he's been shaking. Vincent lets Dmitri hold him, feeling Dmitri's breath across his curls.

For minutes they sit in silence. Until Dmitri whispers in a firm, almost demanding, way.

"Who. the fuck. told you. that you should let the people you care about hurt you like that Vincent."

Vincent flinches back as the words sting on his skin. The air in the room shifts and he wants to coil into his skin and die. Dmitri’s eyes feel like a knife digging into his skin and dragging across a bone. Vincent rests his head under Dmitri’s chin and murmurs pleading apologies.

Dmitri sighs, the air rustling across his curls, and mutters, “I probably should go, let you have some space.”

Panic envelops the very fabric that makes up Vincent. The feeling of hope sliding through his fingers and falling into an inky black abyss fills him with dread. I’m gonna lose him.

“No! Wait, I’m sorry! Please- I’ll- I’m sorry, don’t go—”

With a warm, bare embrace, Dmitri wraps Vincent up and squeezes him slightly, “Vee, Shh. It’s alright, I’ll stay. Just go to bed.”

Vincent trembles. His entire body feels like it is going to rip apart under the weight of his mistakes. Dmitri gently guides him back down onto the sheets. Wrapping Vincent in his own sheet, Dmitri lets his warmth bleed over into Vincent.

Vincent starts to cry. A different kind of fear unfurls in his chest, not the terror-linked with sex but fear of Dmitri fading away into a clouded abyss and leaving him alone. Those tears carry him to sleep.

The next morning, Vincent wakes alone. Dmitri is gone. The urge to puke pools behind his lips. His eyes, straying to the clock on the wall, see that it's past eight o’clock and Vincent finds himself both relieved and that much more anxious.

Dmitri leaves for work at 7:30 on the dot, it's normal that he’s gone now. This is normal.

No matter what Vincent tells himself, he can’t bring himself to believe any of what he says.

Around six that evening is when Dmitri usually gets back from work. Vincent starts to panic at six-thirty.

When Dmitri opens the door Vincent is standing there. It’s 7 o’clock. There is a kind of fear eating at him that he has never felt before. He knows fear, this wasn’t it. He rubs at the long scar that circumferences his wrist. Their eyes meet and silence eats at their skin.

“I’m-”

“I need to apologise to you,” Dmitri says as he sets the bag of what smells like food on the table sitting in the doorway, “I shouldn’t have raised my voice last night, I’m sorry.”

Vincent pauses. The air feels too heavy to stand under. He swallows the mucus bile that rises in his throat. “You aren;t the person that is supposed to be apologizing to Dmitri. I am.”

“No,” Dmitri cuts him off, “You did nothing wrong. I- There’s probably many more things I should be apologizing for.”

“Dmitri-”

“I got us food,” Dmitri says, poorly masking a plethora of emotions, “From Claudios, the Italian place.”

Vincent looks at Dmitri, seeing pain and guilt behind his eyes. Vincent pulls Dmitri into a hug. Muttering into his chest, Vincent tries to say, “This isn’t your fault.” It’s mine.

Dmitri wraps his arms around Vincent and exhales into his hair. They just stay in each other’s arms for a while. Just together.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you did nothing wrong.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

When silence blankets them again, neither know what to say. The air stalls around them and then, Vincent looks up at Dmitri, “I love you.”

Dmitri gives him a soft, almost tearful smile, “I love you too.”

#vincent has no knowledge of autonomy #owen is still whispering into vince's head #poor boy #emotional whump #past noncon #spice #vincent shield #dmitri o'brian #forgotten to found

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nekokennedychan-blog · 3 years

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Medicrinn Chapter One

Self Insert F!Eivor/Female Reader. Intuition is something one should never ignore. The wind will always hint at what is to come.

Masterlist here.

Trigger Warnings: VERY Graphic depictions of violence, blood, and death. Themes of depression and solitude.

A/N: First ever fanfic. I don’t know what I'm doing. I have absolutely no idea how far this will take me, but I've been inspired by so many writers in this community and of course by lovely Eivor. This is the first chapter. Very little Eivor here. Some building up of our lead's personality and a little history. But don’t worry. Eivor is coming. And it’ll get sexy. Eventually. feedback welcome. I am newborn child with no idea what I'm doing. Please help me.

The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange, blue, and purple, stars already twinkling in the darkest areas of the sky. A large crescent sliver sat on the western edge, the sight of the moon reminding you of a grinning wolf. There was something in the air tonight. Something that made your skin crawl, contrasting with the gorgeous end of the day. It unsettled you, though you couldn't pin point what the actual problem could be.

You bent down and continued to gather the calendula that grew on the hill here. You were running low as the monastery you lived on the edge of had recently begun to acquisition you for as much of your healing ointments as you could make. You didn't keep up with what monks of Beodoricsroth involved themselves with, but you were thankful for the patronage. It wasn't often the Holy men would seek outsiders for medical remedies, and they paid very handsomely. You had heard talk amongst your neighbors about some unrest due to some type of savage raiders.

Perhaps that is what has them panicked…

You gathered as much as your satchel could handle, and glanced at the moon. A burst of wind caused the unsecured pieces of hair to obscure your vision, bringing with it an icy chill. Rubbing your arms and pulling your furs closer to yourself, you turned to your dale. His large black eyes watched you closely as he huffed, seemly agreeing with your inner thoughts.

"We should get back, Fallon. The winds tell of misfortune today."

Mounting the tall horse quickly, you dug your boots into his sides and pushed him to a full lope, guiding him down the familiar path home with ease. As you got closer to town, dark clouds rolled across the sky, bringing with it sharp gusts of cold wind and the smell of coming rain. The familiar lighted windows of families already settled for the night greeted you are you slowed your steed on the main road of the outwr abbey.

You moved through the settlement quickly, to a lone house with a small stall to its left. Quaint but well kept, your home was the only thing left to you when your parents passed. Pink flowers peppered the yard, bringing you back four autumns in your mind.

Taken within weeks of each other, the fever and sickness did not take your parents swiftly enough. You could smell the posies your father had made you bring into the home. You remember crying as you gathered them, as your father had given you all his knowledge, as they would be used to hide the stench of their coming deaths. You couldn’t bring yourself to pull the bushes up.

Once grounded, you pulled Fallon into his stall, tossed him some hay, and hurried through your front door, carrying in your collections of the day. The strong smell of multiple herbs greeted you, and you fumbled for the candle you kept just inside. Once lit, the medical storehouse that was your home was brought into pale focus.

The flickering light, coupled with the feeling of dread pitting in your stomach, the made many candles, dried herbs, and vials laid out take on a sinister appearance. You hastened to light the hearth to dispel the illusion.

Notes in your flowing chirography littered almost the whole table you set your satchel on, each one depicting in detail different cures, remedies, and treatments. You liked being thorough and enjoyed carrying on your father’s work. It made for a very singular existence, as no sane man wanted an independent and intelligent woman. Perhaps spending so much time alone was making you nervous. The dark evening and spooky feelings were surely just your loneliness taking a toll on your psyche.

You slid the furs from your shoulders, hanging the coat over the small bench at the table. You sat on top of it, reaching down to pull the expensive leather riding boots from your sore feet. Unlacing the black outer dress at your chest, you shook it from your shoulders and let it fall to the floor, leaving you in the white underdress you would wear to bed. Lifting a pot of water, you hung it up over the fire and began prepping a small portion of meat.

A good supper and a night's rest through the coming storm would bring a better tomorrow. Or so you told yourself.

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

Acrid smoke. That is the smell that woke you from a dreamless sleep. Fumbling on the stand next to your bed, you managed to light a candle. Thick smoke filled your home, but the smell of it was of nothing within. Confused and sleep dazed, you tumbled out of your fur blankets and slipped on your simple house shoes.

Once standing, and with a gust of wind from the slatted window, it was clear that the smoke was being pushed inside. At the moment of this understanding also came the awareness of sound - that of screaming, metal on metal, and the terrible sound of a maelstrom, all entwined together. No sooner does this register for you, and before any decision or action can be taken, does the door to your home splinter violently open. An armored man tumbles through the ruined door, the red and silver armor marking him clearly as one of Aelfred's men. Frozen, you watched as the man raised himself to his knees, his brown eyes meeting yours through the opening in his helmet.

"Apothecary," he wheezed, reaching out a hand towards you, "we need..." The man never finished his sentence. With a whistling sound, an axe cleanly sliced through the male's throat, embedding itself in the wall next to the fireplace. You watched in horror as the man's mouth hung open and his head fell from his shoulders, rolling across the floor. Blood sprayed everywhere, coating the walls and ground. You dropped your light and rushed forward, sliding across the slick wood, trying to get to the only weapon you kept in your home.

A flash of lightening temporarily drew your attention to the now hole of a front door, and your heart stopped beating. Standing in the opening was a tall figure. Covered head to toe in sliver armor and black furs, stood a Viking. Braided blonde hair hung over the warrior's shoulder, the shaved side of her head decorated with tattoos. Fresh blood spatter danced across her scarred face, drawing your eyes to bright green ones accentuated with charcoal war paint. And in her left hand, from the peripherals of your vision, was an axe - one you were sure matched the one in your wall.

#eivor x reader #eivor varinsson #female eivor #f!eivor #lady eivor #eivor wolfkissed #eivor

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

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Can I request something for mean daddy Roman? He went with you while you were helping Peter pick clothes for a date and He's mad because you called Peter cute even though it was a platonic gesture.

(A/N): Hello there, lovely!

I just… had a small heartattack once I read this ask, because… BITCH MEAN JEALOUS DADDY! ROMAN IS MY THING (I hate jealous boys, like if I ever ended up with a possessive boy… boy bye, but I can make an exception for Roman, he is my.. exception, excuse me while i cry because… he isn’t real).

(Santa Claus can I get him in my stocking? You can save on the clothes).

But seriously, thank you sweetie and sorry for taking so long (I also changed it a bit, because I had an idea for it, I hope you won’t mind, but if you do mind it, let me know and I’ll rewrite the ask!).

WARNINGS: Daddy! Roman (Slight Mention of DDLG relationship/Dom-Sub Dynamic), Choking and Slapping, Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Unprotected (Mirror) Sex (please stay safe… get those condoms and don’t pop children and STDs!), Rougher Than Usual.

Your relationship with Peter, unlike the one you had held with Roman, went back on older grounds.

When he had first come in town, you had been one of his first friends, mostly because you came from the same social class, hence you had many more things in common with him than with Roman, who you low key hated not only for the arrogance he constantly showed, but also because your father had been unemployed from the White House.

You had also slowly matured a crush towards Peter, although you were well-aware (or at least you were now) that you would never have a chance, as long as Letha was around.

Still you had managed, back in the time, to go on a date with Peter…

… for which you had been stood up for Letha.

You still remembered trying to call Peter, the phone finally him picking up just to release tiny and breathy moans and you had just ended the call rather quickly, waiting, in an extremely ‘emo’ way (you had to admit it) outside your house, meanwhile it poured rain outside.

And in that atmosphere, you had spotted Roman, looking around dazed and confused.

By that time, your relationship with the Godfrey brat had grown closer, although you would keep on using a façade of sarcasm and irritation, whenever you had to talk with him.

But you hadn’t been simply able to actually let him just drench himself.

You had rushed into the rain, well aware that you were also getting pretty drenched, pushing the boy for his shirt inside your house.

‘What the fuck were you doing here, idiot?’ you had asked, meanwhile you had disrobed quickly the catatonic Roman, who just looked like he had gone through some pretty rather heavy shit and made you question whether the coke had (finally) gone to his head.

“… I… Letha… Peter…” he mumbled, although his eyes wouldn’t still focus and didn’t follow the movements of your fingers, making you actually wonder if the hospital should be involved, but chose to avoid it because there was a light shade of sadness in Roman’s eyes, that couldn’t be cured with any medicine.

‘They kind of fucked us over’ you mumbled, pushing a rather fluffy towel through Roman’s hair, meanwhile he just pushed his head onto your chest, kind of trying to get comforted “What if we screw them over’

That phrase got something to act into Roman’s face, and before you knew it, he had gotten himself out of his catatonic state, looking up at you, a new emotion in his beautiful changing eyes: attraction.

Chills went down your spine, but they weren’t unpleasant, and you hadn’t felt anything like that since ever…

… and maybe it was the burning rejection you had received by Peter and the slight brewing attraction you had started feeling towards Roman, definitely something to do with the duality of hate and love.

You ended up in bed together that night and that had started a long story of hook-ups which benefitted you and Roman.

But you were pretty sure that simple ‘hook-ups’ didn’t stay in each other’s bed even the morning and that they got breakfast in there (you usually did it, since Roman would just collect something that could be eaten on the go or get some maid or butler to get something for you both).

After Letha’s death and Peter’s disappearing (with whom you had stayed as a friend, even through he teased you about your ‘relationship’ with Roman, saying ‘it wouldn’t last the summer’) you had been the only one who had stood there for Roman and even though he had pushed and pulled onto the link you had together… you had eventually grown into a semi-healthy relationship.

It wasn’t sex anymore, but Roman still hadn’t said those three words.

Not that you were expecting it to happen, mostly when he would look at you like the entire world for him ended and began with you and Nadia.

Your friendship with Peter had, also, resisted the distance and, although Roman hadn’t been happy of his return in city (you knew all too well that he didn’t know how to feel about Peter possibly meeting Nadia), you had immediately welcomed him back with open arms.

What you didn’t understand and couldn’t know was Roman’s jealousy towards your friendship.

He had had a crush on you since the moment you had joined their group, although he hadn’t acted up onto it: you were the only girl who treated him like he was less than the shit under her sneakers and he couldn’t help but find you beautiful with your sweet determinations and concealed gentleness.

You had never seemed to want him.

He knew all too well of your past crush onto Peter and he couldn’t help but be jealous of the way your relationship had started and processed: it was lighthearted and gentle, soft and pretty full of laughs, meanwhile yours with Roman was heavy and many times it was more an off-relationship, than an actual one.

(It was his fault most of the time but…).

So, he didn’t like you hanging out with Peter, since his return.

‘He abandoned us when we fucking needed him, how can you forgive him so easily?’ he had snarked out at you at dinner the previous night, when you had suggested helping out Peter with his mother’s bail.

‘He had his own things to deal with…’ you had tried to reply, meanwhile you had raised your glass of red wine to your lips, barely able to wet them with it, before Roman stormed out of the dining room, screaming:

‘We fucking had our own things to deal with, too!’.

Still Roman’s bad mood hadn’t stopped you form trying to hang out with Peter, like that day, when you had taken him into one of the stores that sold Roman’s expensive suits, to get him one to wear in court for his mother’s case.

The clerks had been pretty amicable, although they had looked at you with a shred of suspect, and you had had to explain that the shaggy man beside you was a friend of your family, needing a suit for an important business event.

And when you had gotten out your own credit card they hadn’t spoken anymore, preferring to take Peter’s measurements than to actually discuss you, the futurde Mrs. Godfrey according to anyone.

You just sipped champagne, meanwhile you and Peter judge badly the uncomfortableness of each jacket, passing a rather entertaining evening, before you both went to different roads, you deciding to shop a bit more, meanwhile Peter went back to Destiny’s apartment, thanking you for the little break from the heavy life he was going through.

“Ahhh, Petie you are my best friend, you can always come to me when you need it” you said, meanwhile hugging him tightly, and he smirked in your shoulder.

“Won’t Roman be pissed?” he asked, jokingly, getting a rather unamused smirk from you.

“Since when do I let Roman boss me around?”.

That night you had come home rather early, sending home the entire staff, thinking that cooking might help you a bit, alongside wanting to cherish ‘the asshole of your life’, before you checked onto Nadia, who was sleeping peacefully and softly stirred in her sleep, just to cuddled into your hand.

When you were descending the stairs, you felt the door open and went to welcome your lover, just to be welcomed by a disgruntled expression and tight lips that didn’t speak for the entire dinner, something which made the entire experienced rather awkward, but you knew better than to confront Roman on his childish behavior.

Your day had been rather peaceful, and you didn’t want to ruin it because Roman had a ‘lover spat’ with Doctor Pryce.

You waited for him to talk to you, meanwhile you were getting ready with all your lotions and treatments, meanwhile Roman turned around, trying to focus his attention on a dossier he was examining, but his eyes kept shifting on you.

“My day was good, thank you for asking” you mumbled as you started brushing your hair, not trying to turn to face him “… I am glad to hear yours was nice, too, goodnight to also you, Roman”.

“My day wasn’t actually nice, and you know why?” Roman’s eyes were staring into you from the mirror “… because my pretty girlfriend, the only one for me, decided to ditch off with my ex-best friend, who I told her to avoid”.

“Since when are you the one who decides who I can hang out with?” you retorted, pushing your hair in a loose braid, perfect for sleeping, meanwhile you simply brushed a bit of your lavender oil onto your neck, since it always seemed to relax you “It isn’t like I do that with you”.

“Oh, then you will be ecstatic to know that I’ll invite Bella at lunch tomorrow”.

He knew exactly where to hit you, that vicious piece of shit.

It wasn’t a secret that you disliked his secretary Bella: she was a pretty thing, who didn’t mind flirting with Roman like he hadn’t a girlfriend and she was definitely different from Peter, who knew you were with Roman and wouldn’t try a move on you.

You just shut up, not wanting to fight with an obviously annoyed Roman till he knocked some sense in himself, but when you turned around to get to bed, you found him next to your mirror, looking at you so intensively that you knew this wouldn’t be over soon.

“… would you like if Bella came to lunch, with your daddy, little girl?” he pointed each words with such a tight tone that you knew exactly what he was doing, only heightened by the way he pushed his grip onto your chin to make you look up at him.

“You are a fucking moron” you spitted out, exiting the grip, and moving to turn around, but this time Roman reached out for your neck, gripping it softly, but firmly and you knew that your words had hit the mark.

“… such a bad word for such a little girl” he mumbled his tone having softened relatively but this didn’t mean it wasn’t threatening anymore “… maybe this is the reason why I like Bella more than you”.

You reached out a hand in the front of his pants, and although you knew you would be punished because he hadn’t given you the permission, you cupped his bulge through the loose sweatpants he went to sleep in.

“… could Bella make you feel so good, daddy?” you shot back, before your hands gripped him tighter, following the outline of the bulge with your palm, before you pushed yourself to lick a little strip over his pants “… could she, daddy?”.

Roman honestly looked like he was already losing your mind and you smirked at him.

But then Roman’s hold tightened, effectively stealing your breath and you already knew that there would be a light sign of his hand on your neck, tomorrow.

“Since when are you the one who asks questions, little whore?” he asked you, your eyes meeting perfectly “… are you this talkative with Peter?”.

“Why don’t you ask him?” you almost expected the slap hat followed your brattish comment.

It wasn’t mean to hurt you, it was more meant to sting your face to bring you to focus definitely onto Roman, who sent you a rather harsh look, although you realized that he was simply toying with you.

“Stop fucking talking back to me” he pointed out each word and made you back down into the mirror “… I wanted to be nice with you, but you don’t leave me no choice”.

And he pushed up your chin with his index and thumb, tilting it lightly up so that you could look at his face, and more importantly his disappointed eyes.

You didn’t talk, knowing that your little stunt had pushed you too far and had you tried to talk back more, it wouldn’t have gone to your favor.

Roman seemed to appreciate your control onto your biting lips, gently slipping a hand to caress your stinging face, before his finger gently traced the outline of your lips.

“This is better, but I think that you now need to earn your forgiveness, little one” he gently suggested, caressing your hair, meanwhile he used them to move you closer to his bulge till your face was smashed, almost uncomfortably against it “… what do you say, when this happens, sweetheart?”.

“I am sorry, daddy” you mumbled, meanwhile your hands went obediently behind your back, Roman smirking at that sight, meanwhile he eased his sweatpants, showing that he hadn’t worn his boxers and you soon were face to face with manhood “… let me make it up to you”.

Roman smirked and allowed himself into your mouth, letting you play your game with languid strokes of your tongue and your lips gently teasing him with kisses, but he had soon enough and he pushed you by the hair to choke onto his cock.

You had just the time to relax your throat before Roman set up a maddening pace and you were just able to cover your teeth with your lips, trying to gain some balance with your upper body, meanwhile Roman did his bidding, using in your mouth in a shameless way.

He pushed your head up so that your glossy eyes could meet his, smirking at you, pleasure coursing through him thanks to your expert gestures, and soon his eyes closed giving in to pleasure and much more violent thrusts, although the rhythm slowed, but it didn’t mean that you were allowed to breath more.

Roman didn’t warn you when he came, although you felt it as your mouth fell onto his balls, teasing them to get a breather from the ruthless rhythms of his hips, finding them tight and hard, and just the right amount of pressure onto his slit was enough for him to let go.

Your mouth was soon full of salty taste and some even dribbled out of your mouth as Roman relieved yourself of the heavy weight of his cock, still hard, although he had cum already.

He didn’t even bother to clean his seed from your lips, and just turned you around, making sure you were watching the mirror, as he slipped into you pushing the nightgown to your waist and pulling your panties to the side, some kind of animal urgency to have you, shining in his eyes.

It was a bit painful at first, although you were sinfully wet for having worshipped your lover on your knees, because of the sudden thrust Roman delved into you, hitting further than he usually did, wanting to leave a mark with the way he stretched you.

“Fucking tight like a little virgin…” he mumbled onto your ear, onto which he lowered, making you feel the unnatural coldness of his chest , his short hair lightly tickling your shoulder, meanwhile an hand came to your chest kneading roughly your breasts “… I am so fucking lucky to have a cunt like that… am I not, princess?”.

You just nodded, pleasure finally overcoming you, as Roman’s thrust became more settled and organized, hitting that point inside you, meanwhile his rough hands over the silky material of your expensive nightgown made thrills appear onto your back.

“… and aren’t you lucky to have a cock that fills you up so good” he shot back, pointing each word with a sharp thrust, making you almost bump into the mirror, hadn’t his hold onto your waist been that strong to stop you “… aren’t you, little one?”.

He obviously wanted an answer and hadn’t you been well aware that you had already broken every rules, you would have sassed him out, but some part of you honestly thought that you just couldn’t resist him anymore, mostly when he was doing it almost reassured his position in your life.

“Fucking lucky, daddy” you mumbled in high pitched moan, opening your eyes to the beautiful image of your bodies entwined together, your mouth opened in a moan of ecstasy, meanwhile Roman was looking darkly at your body and before you knew it…

… you were lost, in your own little climax, closing momentarily your eyes, till you felt suddenly Roman’s cold skin, completely against your back, making you both lose your balance, tumbling down off your mirror drawer, both of you laughing as soon as you realized the absurdity of the situation.

“We are too old for this” you mumbled, meanwhile he pushed himself out of you, making you moan softly, his semen exiting you and slightly coating both your stomach and legs.

“… absolutely” he retorted, helping you up, settling your body in a more comfortable position “…shit we certainly don’t have the energy anymore”.

You just sent him a look as if to say ‘you just had me suck you off and then fucked me onto my mirror drawer, so shut the fuck up, you old man, you fucking still got it’ and he simply smirked, gently wiping away some your mixed juices from your thighs, tasting it from his fingers.

You simply moaned due to your sensitivity and this unlocked something in him, finally realizing that he might have overreacted a bit, gently pushing you into his arms, meanwhile he laid you softly onto the bed, letting you out of your clothes, before he moved to collect something to clean you up.

And once he was done comforting and cleaning your body, peppering it jokingly and much more softly with kisses, he finally slipped you in your most comfortable pajamas.

When you were settled, he gently cuddled next to you, smirking softly and blowing a gentle kiss onto your forehead

“I am sorry for being jealous of Peter, it’s just…” you gently turned to him, bringing him in a soft kiss, the first of the night, before you grabbed with enough force his face to make him grimace.

“… just settle your problems with him” you mumbled, before your lips lingered over his, in a teasing matter that got him almost a kiss, before you turned around, smirking sassily “… goodnight, daddy!”

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tolkien-in-beleriand · 4 years

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The Chronicles of Iniamar - Chapter One

Demetria was a normal village girl, except that no one is really normal. Not anywhere and certainly not in the Buruma village. Nevertheless she did not astound more than anyone would astound just for being. She was happy, funny, full of friends, intelligent and hardworking and of course, full of opinions. The problem with opinionated people is that they almost always are convinced that they are right and forget that other people may have opinions of their own and that they too believe to be right. Haryn was another one full of opinions and Demi never liked Haryn. She found him muzzy, dull, rude, and obviously too cocky, thinking that his opinions were always the truth. But he almost never spoke and when he did it was to swear and give orders and although he was not her boss, she had to comply because she worked in Josh’s tavern and if anyone asked her for a black lapo it was her job to serve. And Haryn was always asking for a pint of something. Once she saw him chug a hornmud of pure alcolino. Maybe if he was sober for long enough he would be aware of how repugnant he was, so he prefered to be always drunk, she thought. Either way Josh liked him – even though none could understanding why – and said that he was an excellent warrior and a very wise man. Demi thought that Josh was beginning to lost his wit because of old age.

Josh was her adoptive father. Due to an accident, that each time that was told had a different nature, she had lost her parents as a baby and Josh welcomed and nourished her. She helped in the tavern since her 14th birthday, before that he never allowed her to work. He said she had to nurture her mind. So he taught her how to read, write and think, although he always said that one can not teach another to think, but could offer him the tools to do so. Some days he would tell Demi that she thought too much but she always could see behind the angry words the satisfaction in his eyes.

The love that Josh devoted to reading was only surpassed by his pupil and even though scrolls were quite rare in the village – regarded as a relic found only with merchants that passed through or in the houses of the most wealthy individuals – Josh always managed to get their hands in some new manuscript with wonderful stories about fey beings and men of the blood of dragons. These were her favourite stories but she read them all including the most boring ones, like those that explained the position of the main villages and castles. Josh said it was always good to know where things are, both to look for it or to avoid it. “No one wants to be face to face with a dragon by chance, eh?” Well, she would not mind. She always wanted to be friends with a dragon.

Her friends in the village always complained of their parents at some point and sometimes even though it could sound indifferent and wicked, Demi felt lucky that her parents died, because that led her to be raised by Josh. He was amazing, intelligent and has always been good to her. He never even mentioned the subject of marriage, for which she was very grateful, and whenever she saw those dark eyes in that kind and thick bearded face she could not help but smile and feel a sense of security. Haryn used to say that it was because she was stupid, since no one is never safe, but she do not pay attention to his pessimism and bad humor. He annoyed her in all possible ways, and yet, she knew that she could always rely on him and that he would never hurt her. Not because he liked her, no! But because of his friendship with Josh that probably compelled him to protect what he called “fire-haired brat”. Once Moren spilled a black lapo mug on Demi dress, smearing it all, and before she could recover from the surprise and accept the apology from the baker, Haryn was already going up against him. Poor Moren did not show up at the tavern for one week and only came back after she reassured him that she was not in any way angry and that Haryn would not bother him anymore.

I do not know if it was because of his angry “friend” or because of the sympathy for Josh, but everyone always treated Demi with great kindness and respect. She always thought they were luck to live in a quiet village like Buruma as she had heard uncanny stories from others neighboring villages. She had many friends there, but her two inseparable companions were Artur and Bernardo. Artur rarely entered the tavern because he was too big and as the establishment was always packed he could not fit in there if he wanted. Artie worked with the blacksmith, pulling his big gear, but at the end of his shift he always passed by the back door of the tavern and Demi always took a little break to talk to him. In their day offs they often get together, the three of them.

Bernardo, as Demi, worked in the tavern and managed to serve customers quite well now, even though he was very clumsy in his first days of work, because he was unable to hold the trays with his big paws. However now he was the most skilled bear to serve tables in the area. Artur wanted a job in the tavern too, but the experience did not go well. At the end of the day he had broken two tables and had kicked a merchant who had hit his hips to request another lapo pint. When Josh told him that unfortunately he could not work there, he said: “Good! You could break a leg in this tiny place”. The tavern was not so small, but Artur was the biggest horse that anyone there had ever seen. To climb the stairs to go to the house on the top floor was not an option to him either.

Bernardo was also as big as a brown bear could be, but he was skillful enough to not let his size get in the way and everybody adored him because he was an inexhaustible source of stories and anecdotes.

When the merchants come to the village, Josh closes the tavern for a whole week, since there is always all kinds of drinks in the fair’s pavilion and then Artur, Bernardo and Demi have all the freedom and money they could want.

In the second week Josh’s tavern would reopen, since the merchants loved its lapo, both black and gold, and usually in that week they profited enough for a whole year. The merchants use to be generous with their money when it came to a good drink.

The merchants passed by once every six months and stayed for two weeks in the village. There were two parties to celebrate what they called Fiftday. The opening ceremony, which took place on the day they arrived, and the closing ceremony, held on the day before they left. Anyway to Demi and her friends every day were party day and they enjoyed every day of the Fiftday. The next one would be in five weeks and they were all excited. Artur wanted a golden cloak to wear at the opening party and Demi was trying to convince him that a golden cloak would not suit his reddish and bright fur but he did not want to hear any of that and she certainly would not give up.

Bernardo was thinking to wear a black leather vest with white fringes and Demi thought it would suit him very well. Demi would wear her white dress with red branches on the hem and on the tip off the long sleeves, with a thin red dragon leather belt as she would not want to be too much. Her hair would be braided with white leather straps because she always thought the white fall right in the middle of all the redness of her hair. She would be pretty for sure.

Demi heard that there would be more than two minstrels this time, which made her even more anxious. The minstrels were her favourite attraction, along with the storytellers. In her secret dreams she always imagined herself married to one of the kingdom’s poetic singers but she never told this to anyone. That is because they would laugh at her and she hated that. However her more urgent concern until the Fiftnight was to change Artie’s mind about the color of his cloak as she needed to sew it soon. She actually thought that she had found a way to convince him.

The day when she would put her plan into action had come. Josh was staring at her with droll and inquisitive eyes. He knew that she hated golden because the contrast with her bright red hair made her look like some kind of what she called tainted flame. And when he asked her what was a tainted flame she simply answered “It doesn’t matter what it is, what is important is that it is what I see in the brass when I wear golden outfits”. In that day she hoped the sunshine outside would accentuate the absurdity of that combination.

– Demi!

It was Artie’s voice at the window.

– Artie! You came earlier today?

– No. What dress is that?

– It is a gift from last year’s birthday.

– I have never seen it. You are marvelous wearing it ant that is precisely the golden that I want for my cloak.

– What? Are you blind? This dress is not anything good on me because red does not suit golden!

– That is what you say. To me that is perfect, like hay and water. It is a matter of taste.

– Taste! No! Unless you want to seem ridiculous.

– I do not care about your opinion on this.

– Please, Artie. I am saying this for your sake.

– But I want a golden cloak. I have already bought the fabric. There is no turning back.

– Ok. I will make you a golden cloak, but not for the party, alright?

– Why not for the party?

– Because I want all of us wearing white.

– Bernie will not wear white.

– His vest has white fringes.

Artie was pensive.

– But I do not have white fabric and I do not want to spend more money with that.

– I’ll buy it for you.

– And you swear that I will have my golden cloak too?

– Yes, I promise.

– Can I wear it in the closure party?

– We will see.

– Alright, then. White it is.

– Thank you, Artie. You are the best. I have to go back now. See you tomorrow.

– Go, ungrateful brat. Preventing me from wearing what I want just because you do not like gold. I like, gee.

She could still hear Artie muttering as she walked away, but it didn’t matter anymore. He would not wear the golden cloak and she would not be in that hideous dress another second.

Demi’s time in the coming weeks was divided between bartending in the tavern, sewing outfits for her friends and reading a particularly annoying parchment about all the mountains north of the Great Fountain. However always she noticed that Josh was not watching she would change her lecture to a scroll about the story of the first men of the dragon blood. The fact that she never really knew if it had truly happened or were just stories made her even more fascinated. But how could it have happened? Is it possible that the dragons would submit to an agreement with men? And why should they? The scroll said to be by necessity, although it did not explain of what kind, but she read others parchments that affirmed that a man threatened the dragons. However, Demi could not believe that any threat could frighten all the dragons, especially the Great Ulmur.

With her mind busy with all these questions, Demi did not realize that she was murmuring and that Josh had come near her so she almost fell off her chair when he said:

– Ulmur could be tall and strong, but I doubt he was a mountain.

– Josh! Are you trying to scare me to death?

– No, but it will hurt you to finish the parchment about the mountains first? It is not so bad.

– But it’s so boring and useless.

– I do not doubt that learning about Ulmur’s secret thoughts is useful, but it is much more likely, lets say, that you have to face the northern mountains than Ulmur and his kin.

– Not necessarily. If anything steer me north, who could guarantee I would not find Ulmur?

– I do.

– And how could you be so sure?

– Because Ulmur is dead!

– Is he though?

– What do you mean? Of course he is!

From the tavern they could hear the sound of a mug breaking and Bernie’s growl.

– Go, leave this and go to work. You have read too much for today. Poor Bernie must be overwrought.

Without wasting any more seconds she went downstairs. She liked her work and enjoyed herself in the tavern and, as she could not read about the men of the dragon blood, she preferred Haryn’s ugly face to the northern mountains’ parchment.

When she arrived downstairs Bernie had already removed the pieces of the broken mug, but he still had an angry face.

– What happened, Bernie?

– How would I know? I was serving a table and suddenly a mug broke on the counter for no reason whatsoever.

– It was the wind – said Haryn.

– It was no fucking wind, because there is no wind! - Said Bernie angry.

– Maybe it was you, Harryn.

– Maybe, but you will never know, will you, brat?

Turning her back to Haryn, Demi tried to calm down her friend:

– There is no problem, Bernie, it was just a mug. Let it be.

– I just do not like this kind of thing. It has to have an explanation, things do not break without a reason. I do not like this, not at all.

– Me too, Bernie, but to get upset will not help it.

Still grumbling Bernie went to serve some tables while Demi was in the counter. She hated to be responsible for the counter because it was were Haryn always was. But she had no choice since Josh was upstairs and only would be back later.

Even if he annoyed her, Demi never ceased to be curious about Haryn. What would he have done to win Josh’s trust? How could he be a wise and a warrior if the only thing he does is drink in the tavern? Although, he usually disappears for a few days from time to time, even though there was no war going on, nothing to fight, nowhere to be a warrior. How old was he? Demi had no idea about any of this and despite hating the way he despised her and the rude way he answered her questions, she never gave up trying to figure out whatever she could about him. She would not ask him any direct question about that though. Demi thought she would have more chance of success if she disguised her interests, so she decided to ask him about the men of dragon blood, so perhaps she could get some information about it too.

– Hey, Haryn! What do you know about the men of dragon blood?

He always looked at her like someone who wanted to kill her just for daring to open her mouth before answering.

– That they do not exist anymore.

He always answered though, even if it was a stupid answer.

– Everybody knows that. But you should know something about when they were alive. Josh says you are so wise.

It seemed that this time he would not answer, but after spending a good few minutes contemplating Demi he started to talk:

“The men of dragon blood were a very powerful kin, which does not exist anymore for over 300 years, more or less. Millenia ago, they mingled their blood with dragons blood through an agreement never revealed and a secret ritual. Shaian and Ulmur were representatives of the two races that started the union, which had to be renewed every thousand years, because the power of the dragon’s blood weakened with time in the dirty blood of men. Something went wrong in the Last Renovation and the human representative of the ritual was murdered. No one knows the name of that human, as though it was the reign of King Tomus, he was found dead in his castle and lore said that the body found was a woman. It is supposed to be his queen, but no one was ever really interested in this matter.

Haryn paused to take a sip of his hornmug and Demi asked more questions.

– But who would want to murder the men of dragon blood? And why? Who could want that? And the dragons, what they did?

– They did nothing, what would they do? There was nothing to be done. The dragons hid in fear of being murdered and waited to see what this creature would do. However nothing has been done and nothing happened. Then the reign needed a new king and a scribe loyal to Tomus took over as king. He was the only survivor with acceptable knowledge to rule. With the shock of seeing the entire royal family assassinated there were no objections to that. Thus began a new royal line. Not nearly as noble as the previous one and with only one-tenth of the longevity of those dragon’s blood, but it is what we have got.

– But who? Who would be willing and able to kill all the line? And why?

– Pshaw! No one knows that, brat! When Auri, the Scribe, took the kingdom he said he would be watching, but luckily for him nothing happened until his death. I would like to see what Auri feather hand would do against Tomus’ killer. Ha! I really wanted to see! Many people has gone missing since all this happened, although nothing that deserved much attention. Some people argue that that evil creature is still amongst us and up to something, but if that is true or not I do not know and frankly do not care.

– Do not care or is afraid? – Demi said mischievously.

His eyes flashed dangerously towards her and this time he did not answer. None of what he had told was big news for Demi, however she needed to beat around the bush to ask what she really wanted to know.

– Wow, how do you know all this? Did you read?

– I have read.

– When you were young?

– When I could.

– How old are you?

– Older than you – said Haryn getting up and leaving. At the door he shouted: – Tell Josh to meet me at the village’s entrance in an hour, would you?

– He is busy, I do not know if he can make it.

– Just give him the message!

– Hey, wait! Just one more question!

He stopped impatiently.

– Yes?

– Why the dragons did not make a new agreement with Auri?

Haryn stared at her for a good while before he said:

– Because they did not like his hair colour – and left slamming the door.

This is chapter 1 of one of my books (continue under read more) and I’m putting it on here in the hopes that someone will read and give me some feedback.

Also you all know about my financial problems so if you can share this with my Patreon link I would really appreciate. There are some public stuff on there so if you have the time please have a look and consider helping.

SUPPORT MY PATREON

CHAPTER 4 (Patrons only)

The weeks before Fitftday passed quickly to Demi with all the sewing she needed to do, all the trouble convincing Artie to not wear the golden cloak in the closure party and her working in the tavern. She did not see the time passing. The fact Haryn was absent also helped that because without his scowl around the environment became much more pleasant in Demi’s opinion. Two days before the Fiftday at the end of her shift Moren told that at least two storytellers would narrate the story of the Last Renewal and finally reveal the secret ritual of the dragons. Every Fiftday at least five storytellers and even some minstrels show up clamming to reveal the dragon’s secret ritual and everyone goes to hear, including Josh and Haryn. Every year Demi always choose her favourite version and then hit the scrolls trying to confirm its veracity, but this never resulted in any discovery and so Haryn would always call here a moron for even thinking about believing all that bullshit. Her favourite version was the one told last year: the dragon swallowed the representative of men and then spit him in a burst of fire. Demi was anxious to see what crazy story they would invent this time.

In the next day Josh dismissed her from work to finish Bernie’s and Artie’s outfits in time. Bernie’s had to climb the stair at least two times to prove his vest, until he was completely satisfied. As always, he thanked Demi with a big hug and a touch on her nose with his snout. She loved it. Now Artie was not so easy. As he could not go up and Lot, the blacksmith, did not allow him to go to the tavern during working hours, Demi had to take his cloak to him. Fortunately the cloak was perfect and she did not have to go all the way again. Like her dress, Artie’s cloak was white with red and black branches on the fringes.

– How did you like it, Artie?

– Wow! Oh mine! Wow! – Was all that Artie could say as he turned to all sides and tried a quick trot to see how the cover would be at the wind.

– I’m happy you liked it. See, now you have this lovely cloak, the cream-colored one to the closure and the golden outfit to wear whenever you want.

– My golden cloak is already done?

– No, not yet. I prioritized tomorrow’s outfits, but it is almost done.

– Can I stop by to see it latter?

– Sure, Artie. Now let me take the cloak back home. I still have to make some adjustments at the clothes to the closure party and Lot is already trowing a sulk, look.

– Sure… see you later. – said Artie as he approached Demi, who took his cloak and went back home prancing. In the distance you could already see the large pavilion, almost ready for the merchants. Demi could not imagine greater happiness than the one she was feeling at the moment.

On the night that preceded the start of Fiftday the tavern had always a smaller movement and at eight o’clock Josh had already closed the doors and left to help in the final preparations of the pavilion. Demi, Artie e Bernie gathered in the shed at the bottom of the tavern which, for the next two weeks would be Artie’s and Bernie’s house. All Fiftday they did that, it was easier that way. Demi, after making sure that the outfits were impeccable, went down to arrange the last details with her friends. As she was leaving for the side door she collided with a large and strong figure. Before she could scream he clapped her mouth and said:

– No screaming.

It was Haryn. Stupid and muffler Haryn. Demi’s heart was racing and beyond scared she was very, very angry.

– Are you crazy? How could you think you could do this, you moron?

– Do what, exactly? Open and close doors and pass by it? I think so.

– You damn-ass! You almost scared me to death!

– Seriously? I thought you were brave and were not afraid of anything. – He said in a mocking voice.

– You are a jerk, a fucking jerk! And I will tell Josh about this.

– Uh! Now I am scared. Where is he? I need to talk to him.

Demi thought about not answering, to turn her back and pretend he did not exist, but she knew that if she did that Josh would be disappointed. So she took a deep breath and reply:

– He is in the pavilion.

Haryn turned around and left, without a word, and she still shaken by the scare yelled:

– Why did you come back, huh? Nobody misses you. You should never return.

He stopped, gave that hideous grin, and replied:

– Missed you, brat. – And he kept walking.

Demi could not believe the audacity of that hateful man. She would talk to Josh. At least he would have to tell her why she had to tolerate Haryn. He owe me at least that. Her blood was yet boiling with fury, so it took some while before she left and went to the shed to meet her friends.

The Fiftday finally arrived. Demi woke up anxious and happy and chose a light dress for the day, it was hot. Josh had already left, so she ran to wake up Artie and Bernie, but both were already up and cheerful.

– It is so damn hot! I will not wear clothes during the day so my party outfit will stand out even more at night. – said Bernie.

– So cocky, Bernie.

– Gee! I can use my golden cloak, can I, Demi?

– No, Artie. It is warm and in this sun you will blind people with that thing.

– I do not understand all this nagging about my cape.

– I am not nagging, I only think that it does not suit you.

– After the Fiftday I will wear it every day just to taunt you.

– I know.

– If you have already finished to pick on each other, can we go?

– Sure!

When the three friends arrived at the pavilion the stone clock on the center had not marked ten am yet, but there were many people and more coming. Many merchants have had their tents set up and many more would come.

Bernie was already standing on the front of a honey tent and Demi and Artie knew he would spend quite some time there.

Come on, Artie, let’s take a look in those fabrics, if Bernie need some money he will find us.

And so they spent the morning. They lunched in the food tents because it was the only chance they had to eat typical food from distant places. There were fruits only found in the north and there were strange meats. But all of it was delicious.

In the afternoon they continued their reckoning of the tents and its spices and other goods. One of those had a collection of stones of different colors and sizes. Sure there were sapphires and emeralds, but also stones that were not jewels, which were used only to decorate the house and Demi loved those.

One was a lot like Demi’s red hair and Bernie was blown away with the resemblance.

– Demi, you must buy this one – it is so you. If you do not buy it, I will buy it for you.

Demi was staring at the stone and seemed not to hear Bernie. It didn’t even look like a stone, it was like a very thick piece of red glass, very red.

– Where does this stone come from? – Asked Demi.

– It comes from one of the high mountains of the dragons, girl. My husband found it in one of his trips and when asked by a traveler he swore it was from the dragon’s mountains. He swore, girl.

– All right, never mind, it was just curiosity. I will take it.

– Very good, very good. Anything else?

– Yes, I will take these black and blue stones that are similar too.

– Very good, very very good, child. It is three coins.

When they moved away from the tent, the woman was looking at the three friends with eyes full of curiosity, but none of them noticed that, because they were jabbering about what they shopped in their day of festivity.

– Well, looks like it is time to take our acquisitions home and prepare for the opening party. – Demi said.

– Already?

Demi laughed. – Artie, we still have fourteen days of Fiftday, you will have time enough.

– I know, but the first day is the best it is so cool.

– Yet the party is coolest. Lets go, I have to wash my hair.

It was past four o’clock when they reached the tavern and found Josh and Haryn talking quietly. Demi hugged Josh and pretended not to see Haryn, who was with his mocking smile as usual.

– How was the first day? Did you bought anything? – Josh asked.

– Just some little things. Everyone knows the merchants keep the best for the end.

– True.

– Well, I will help Artie to take a shower and then I have to wash my hair.

– Sure have, it does not even look like red anymore, but brown because it is so dirty. – Haryn said, with a smile.

Demi did not reply, just gave him a stare that would have paralyzed a dragon and for a moment she thought she saw his smile break and a glimpse of fear in his eyes, but that was only an impression. Josh was quiet, he only nodded his head to the stubbornness of those two.

After helping Artie – and even Bernie – to get clean and fragrant, Demi went upstairs to take her bath. She was supposed to meet them at seven. Aisni, a village girl that was friends with Demi, would help her with her hair. For the first time she decided to do something with it for the party. Her original plan was to braid it with ribbons, but Aisni suggest something different and Demi loved it.

When the girls went down, Artie and Bernie were already waiting. Artie wearing his white cloak and his shining fur and Bernie with his black and white vest over his clean and brushed brown reddish fur. Haryn and Josh also were ready to go. Josh as usual was pretty well dressed, but with simplicity and Haryn did not seemed to have taken a bath or changed his clothes. Everyone looked when Demi came because she was stunning. Her white dress was made from a drawing she had seen in a history book about the lineage of the men of dragon blood. It was white with red branches on the hem and on the tip of the sleeves, a modest cleavage and long and wide sleeves from the elbow. Her hair looked like waves of red with thin white ribbons.

Demi was elate with the way Artie e Bernie looked at her and Josh was delighted with his child. So much that you could see a tear wanting to jump out of his eyes, but what dazed her the most was the look she saw in Haryn’s eyes. She did not know what that was, but for the first time she felt he was not mocking her. This lasted only a few seconds, because Haryn turned on and walked out.

– My daughter, you are beautiful!

– Really, Demi, you look like a princess. – Bernie said. – And you too, Aisni, are very pretty.

The girls laughed. Aisni have a golden hair that fell in well-defined curls until up half of her back and wore a blue dress that look like the sky. She tied her hair half-up half-down with a ribbon that matched her dress.

– Thank you! But you are only saying that because you are my friends. Aisni is really lovely.

– Well, Demi, right back at you! There is no problem. We are all very beautiful and we are going to the party!

Everyone nodded excited and left. Haryn was not at sight, but when they approached the central tent, where the party would take place, Josh pulled back and found him near one of the large trunks that supported the tent. Demi looked at Haryn, still not understanding what had happened just before, and yet she felt even more uncomfortable, even though he had not even cast a glance in her direction since. Anyway it was a party day and she did not want to spoil things thinking in that unpleasant man.

Many people were already coming to the celebration, all well dressed. The opening and closing parties of Fiftday were the only ones that took place in the village, so almost everyone were there, even the sick made an effort to be there.

The group of friends hang out near a tent that sell mead and everyone bought a cup. While they were drinking, laughing and chatting the band began to play; soon after Ethan invited Demi to dance and so she went. Then Bunn appeared and asked Aisni to dance while Artie and Bernie were squirming in their seats and calling that dance.

– Wow, Demi, you are so beautiful! – said Ethan.

– Thank you, Ethan. – she replied, blushing. She liked Ethan and knew he liked her, but she was too shy to admit it to him or to anyone else, including herself. Either way she was glad to know that he liked the way she was.

Demi danced three songs with Ethan and then got back to her friends. Aisni was there too and the girls were all secrets and giggles.

– What the hell do you whisper so much? It sure must be very very funny.

– Actually, Artie, we are talking about very serious stuff.

– Sure, like we do not know you are talking about boys.

– We are not! No way! – said Demi, blushing. She did not want that her friends thought she was a silly girl who wanted a boyfriend.

– It is alright, Demi. – Bernie said. – It is normal that you will want to talk about boys.

– But I am not! – She said even more embarrassed.

– Then lets not talk about that anymore! – Bernie said. But he and Artie were still having a blast with it, because they knew how Demi was angry about these subjects.

– Artie and I will take a walk, be back soon.

After they left, Aisni asked her:

– Why didn’t you tell them?

– I do not like to talk with them about that. They would not understand.

– Of course they would, Demi. Admit it, you are ashamed.

– No way! It’s just it’s not their business.

Aisni knew Demi very well so she knew that she would never admit it, but it was funny to see how blushed she was because people knew exactly what she wanted to hide.

– Come on, Aisni, let’s take a walk too.

They started to circulate among people. However they did not saw any signal of Artie and Bernie or even Josh, but Haryn was yet in the same spot, talking with an outsider, probably a merchant. He seemed unconcerned and almost happy. Demi had never seen him like that. She kept watching him for a while until Haryn turned around and looked at her and the contempt was again in those eyes. Demi pretended not to care and kept walking, looking at the other side.

Short after that Ethan showed up asking to speak to Demi. Aisni encouraged her to go and left. Ethan gave Demi a red flower that made her turn the same color.

– That is lovely.

– That is for you to remember me when you are at home.

– I do. – she said hastily and immediately regretted. – I remember all my friends. – she complemented awkwardly

– I know – he said and he was smiling – Demi, you know I like you, right?

She did, but she would not tell him that. In fact she did not know what to say. She opened her mouth and closed it again, she looked away and saw that Bunn was also talking to Aisni, who was smiling. Did all Buruma kids decided to profess their love today? When Demi looked again to Ethan he was much more closer and before she realized it he was kissing her.

It was a quick kiss, but it felt like an eternity to Demi. It was her first kiss; she had been kissed for the first time and she liked it. She summoned up the courage to look at him. He was smiling and was holding her hands – although she could not remember when it had happened. She smiled back.

Demi had never thought about having a boyfriend, at least not one that was not a great minstrel or storyteller who had traveled the world. Yet now she was there with someone that made her feel different, someone she would not mind to call boyfriend. While all of this was crossing her mind she saw, over Ethan’s shoulder, Haryn looking directly at her. Once more he had that smile that mocked her and Demi instantaneously knew that he had seen it all. She was upset and let Ethan’s hand go.

– Is everything okay?

– Yes, it is nothing. Let’s take a walk?

– Sure.

Demi could see that Ethan was confused, but she needed to walk away from Haryn’s side, so she walked fast and Ethan had to hurry to catch up.

– Did I did something wrong, Demi? If I did, I am sorry.

– No, you did not do anything wrong. – She said still walking fast. When they were far enough from Haryn she stopped. She was very annoyed. Why should Haryn ruin everything? That moment only concerned her, her and Ethan, why he had to be there and spoil everything?

– Demi, what is it?

– Nothing. I was just surprised, that is all. Sorry, Ethan. – She sat on a nearby trunk.

– You do not need to apologize. It is alright if you do not feel the same about me. – He said with a sorrowful voice.

– No. No, it’s not that. Like I told you, I was just surprised. I… I like you too, Ethan. – she murmured and blushed.

– Do you?

– Yes.

He was smiling again. – Can I sit with you then?

– Of course you can.

After a while she had forgotten about Haryn and all. They were there talking for a long time until they realized that the music had stopped, which meant that it was time for the stories. Then they came nearby the stage and Demi said goodbye to Ethan. Just ahead were Aisni, Artie and Bernie.

– Where were you? – questioned Bernie.

– Out there. – Aisni knew she was with Ethan and they looked at each other with a smile. However there was no time for questions because the minstrel was on stage and had strummed his harp.

There were always a musician and a storyteller for which night of the Fifday and, as expected, the minstrel of the opening night would recite a story about the Last Renewal ritual. He said that it was the true story of the ritual which had been told to him by one of the Dragons of the north. All was silent and so he began.

He sang about the threats and wars between men of old and dragons and also about how they had reached an agreement to unite their blood, although he did not explain what the dragons gained with this union. Then he told about the ritual: a macabre dance in which the man would have to mutilate his own body and throw himself in a bonfire burning with dragon’s flames. And when the spirit of the man left his body it would be trapped in a bottle full of dragon’s blood. To renew the covenant, the kingdom’s heir should drink from that bottle. At the Last Renewal, the messenger who brought the bottle was ambushed and killed by an errant group, he said, and that was what went wrong then. This terrible song also said that such misfortune occurred because the one who would participate of the ritual was a woman, not a man.

Demetria looked at Josh and Haryn and both of them were having fun with that rubbish presentation. People applauded, most likely out of pity and not for any other reason. It was the worst version that Demi had ever heard.

– What the hell was that? He completely ignored the fact that Tomus was murdered on the same day, but invented this bullshit about the messenger’s accident. Seriously? A spirit trapped in a bottle of blood? Even the dragon barbecue version is more acceptable.

– I agree. That was the most idiotic version I had ever heard. – said Artie.

– My father tells that when he was a boy he heard of a version that said that a man and a dragon held hands and gave one hundred little hops together. – Aisni said and the four friends roared with laughter and only managed to stop when the storyteller was beginning his tale.

He told about a damsel that had fell in love with an enemy warrior. Demi had listened that story a million times, because everyone liked to tell it. However, for the first time she did not mind listening a love tale. Her heart was touched by the fate of the lovers and she wondered what the hell did Ethan do to her. Either way she was happy.

They said goodbye to Aisni, who went home with her family, and the three friends returned to the tavern. Demi was hoping that Haryn was not there, because she did not want to see him. It was eleven o’clock by the time they got home. Josh was there but not Haryn to Demi’s relief.

– So, how about tonight? Did you like it?

Everyone started talking at the same time. Josh smiled knowing that, as always, they had loved everything. Well almost everything.

– My goodness, what was that version of the ritual?

Josh smiled. – One of the worst I heard, I think. It wasn’t even well plotted.

They remembered the version of the little jumps and everyone started laughing again.

– Sure, I heard that, said Josh. – I remember that the poor minstrel could not finish his song because of the public’s laughter.

– Which was the best version you have ever heard, Josh? – Bernie asked.

He thought for a few minutes before answering:

– I think it was one I heard when I was still very young, and was not living here yet. It was a version that spoke of the invocation of a powerful spirit, but I do not remember it correctly, I should have written it down.

– Sounds a good one – Artie replied and after a moment when they were all pensive, Bernie said:

– Well, I think we should sleep because tomorrow will be a busy day and we still have fourteen versions to listen to.

– Yep, it is true. Goodnight to all and see you tomorrow. We can go a little later tomorrow, right, Demi?

– Sure.

After they left, Demetria remained there and Josh asked her if there was something wrong.

– No, nothing. – answered Demi. She did not like to hide anything from Josh, but she did not want to tell him about Ethan. Not now, maybe another day. Anyway as she was talking with Josh she decided to ask about Haryn.

– Dad, why are you even friends with Haryn?

– This again.

– You never gave me an answer.

– I like him.

– But why? He is ignorant, insensitive and irritating.

– Daughter, Haryn is nothing like that, you just do not know him very well.

– Of course I do! I have known him since I can remember.

– Not the same Haryn that I know. And that is enough of that! I know my words will not convince you of anything but I guarantee that one day you will change your mind about him.

– That won’t happen.

– I know that you think that. Good night, Demetria.

– Goodnight.

Demi was pissed again. Her father would never tell her nothing about Haryn and that was annoying. She could not understand that. Haryn was probably fooling her poor dad. Either way, as she was climbing to her room, her mind flew to Ethan and more pleasant thoughts and she remembered how good it was to have someone who liked her. It was a good feeling that drove her to sleep, despite Haryn.

When Demetria woke up she was startled. She had dreamed about the story told the night before: but in her dream she was the damsel and Haryn was the warrior. She was mad at herself for dreaming such a silly thing and was convinced that this nonsense was motivated by Josh’s words. She tried to forget that stupid dream but she could not, especially when she went dawn for coffee and found Haryn talking to Josh.

– Good morning, little brat! Are you alright?

The mocking tone of his voice was even bigger today. Demi did not answer. She walked through the tavern giving up her coffee and going to meet her friends. But they were not there.

– Where are Artie and Bernie?

– They have already gone. I was going to tell you but you passed like a rain. They asked to warn you that since you were taking too long to wake up they were going to wait for you in the pavilion.

– In the pavilion? But it was their idea to sleep until later!

– Demetria, it is almost two o’clock in the afternoon.

Demetria froze. She could not believe that she slept so much, particularly because it was such a poor quality of sleep as it produced such an unpleasant dream.

– It seems like so many kisses last night stunned you, eh, brat. – Haryn said clearly amusing himself.

Demetria was about to kill him. What right he think he had to discuss her life like that?

– Fuck off, Haryn! – She said slamming the door.

– Why did you tease her so much?

– It is fun.

– She hates you.

– I know. And she must be hating me even more right now. – Haryn said with a sorrowful look.

– Probably. And if I did not know you I would say that is exactly what you want.

Haryn looked at him but did not reply.

Demi left the tavern and began to cry. How such horrible man could exist? How could he ruin everything? She sat on a log and cried out all her anger. When she raised her eyes Artie and Bernie were there.

– How long have you been there?

– Since you left the tavern. What happened, Demi? – Bernie asked sitting down next to her. Artie was just in front of her.

Demi realized that if she was going to tell they about what had just happened she would have to tell about the previous night and she did not know if she wanted that. However as Aisni had said they were her friends and they had the right to know.

– Ethan kissed me yesterday.

– We know.

– How?

– We saw it.

– Did you? But… oh, okay. So, Haryn saw it too. And you know how horrible he is. He just told Josh about it.

– But… you think Josh would not be fine with that?

– It is not that! He has no right to talk about my life. He is a detestable and disgusting man and I hate him, hate!

– Calm down, Demi. He likes to tease you. If you did not pay attention to him he will stop, you will see.

– But I can’t!

– Well, you have to try, right? After all Josh likes him and Haryn will still be around for some time.

– And how could you know that? Demi asked, annoyed. – He could die tomorrow or today!

– If that is what you want to believe, fine.

Demi was pissed off with her friends now. They should take her side and agree with her and insult Haryn with her, but no. They preferred to try do get her to forget and let it go. She stood up wiping her eyes and left without saying a word. Both of them followed her and they knew that she would be in a bad mood all day long.

After they have silently walked for a while, Aisni showed up and Artie and Bernie decided to take a walk to leave the girls alone. Demi told Aisni what had happened and she emphatically agreed with Demi who felt a little better. After that the conversation returned to the adventures of the previous night. Aisni told Demi that Bunn had asked her to be his girlfriend and that she had accepted. Demi was very happy about that and then she told Aisni about Ethan. Aisni was sure that he would ask Demi too.

– Will you accept?

Demi thought about how well she felt about him and the change that she had felt last night before answering.

– Yes, I think so.

The two friends walked until they found an agglomerate of people gathered around Bernie. He was telling one of his stories: the one of a great magician that had grown tired of his spells and decided to live in the mountains with giant birds. Demi knew the story, even so she stopped to listen, because Bernardo’s voice was somehow magical and could charm anyone, even those who already have listened to him before. All those people around Bernie were looking at him with great admiration and no one could hear a single sound but his voice.

When he finished everyone applauded and asked for more stories, but he said that that was enough for a day. Demi approached him to apologize for her previous behavior but before she could say anything he said:

– No need to apologize.

She stopped and looked at him curiously. He started to laugh and opened his arms.

– You stubborn girl!

She ran to hug him. – You silly bear!

Aisni and Artie were talking excitetedly as they got close to Demi and Bernie. Demi turned to try to apologize to Artie but he also rapidly said that there was no need.

– What is the matter with you two?

– Simple! We just know you too well.

– Apparently more that you should have.

– Oh you have no idea!

Everyone laughed.

The afternoon casted its last lights but tonight no one would go home. The night fell and the lamps began to be lit and the stars were already shining in the sky. It was however a moonless night. Ethan and Bunn arrived and Artie e Bernie gave then some alone time with the girls.

That night Demi did not care if anyone would see her holding hands with Ethan. Josh already knew, her friends knew too and that was what mattered. As Aisni had foreseen, Ethan asked Demi to be his girlfriend that night and she said yes. That night they did not hear the ritual version or some story. Not that night or any other of that week.

In the next week, Josh would open the tavern but as always he dismissed Demi and Bernie of any work. Yet when was time for the stories he was always there. It was his greatest pleasure to hear the absurd versions of the last ritual. Demi suspected that he kept a record of all the versions he heard after having forgotten his favourite.

On the first night of the second week, even Demi and Ethan went to hear the stories, as it was in the last week that the best singers performed. On the second night, the minstrel chanted a song about an ancient war and everyone was keen to hear the story as they knew it would be about the Last Renovation. Until that moment of the Fiftday there had not been stories about that, only songs so the expectations were great. Even Josh and Haryn looked anxious and exchanged some meaningful looks.

When the narrator took the stage there was absolute silence and Bernardo let out a low roar.

– What is the matter, Bernie?

– I do not know, but there is something about this guy.

The minstrel had black hair and black eyes but was pale as the moon. He was wearing plain blue clothes and Demi could not see anything that stood up in him but she believed in her friend and immediately disliked him because bear’s eyes were more argute than human’s.

When he started to talk his voice was like a mesmerizing song and no one could look away or stop listening:

A long time ago there was a very wise and powerful being and he walked freely through the mountains and forests of our world. He served no one and was a friend to all and for that reason his soul was ashed to see two of his favorite peoples at war: men and dragons. Being so wise he decided to propose an agreement between both, an alliance. They would bound themselves through blood and thus they would never make war against each other again. With this blood alliance men’s life would be longer, they would be more beautiful and powerful and would also have access to the knowledge of the nature and the world that only the dragons possessed. On the other hand, the dragons would gain all the knowledge acquired by men through the reading of scrolls for years and years and the wisdom that came from such knowledge, they would also gain the potential to have sentiments, to love, and the capacity to think rationally. The dragons were not entirely convinced that the alliance was worth it but Ulmur, the Great, persuaded them that above all they would have peace. The price of the alliance however was high. Both Ulmur and Shaian, the high king of man, would have to sacrifice themselves to make the union possible. No one ever knew how this wiseman convinced them to agree to it but the sacrifice was made and the union between races was done. About this initial ritual I can tell you nothing but it must be symbolically renewed every thousand years when the moon appears into the sky crowned by the five stars of life. So, every thousand years, a human and a dragon representative both females will meet each other on the Union Glade where the wiseman would evoke Ulmur’s and Shaian’s spirit with a drop of blood of each of the representatives and some litany in a strange language only known by the wiseman himself. When the spirits show up the human should make a decision: to gestate the child in her womb or put her in a dragon’s egg. If she chose the first option all she had to do was receive the breath of Ulmur and Shaian. But if she pick the second option she would have to sacrifice herself – like Ulmur and Shaian did – to guarantee a secure gestation in a safe dragon egg which would hatch when it was time. Not before nor after. For this reason the chosen female dragon was picked among those who have recently hatched an egg, for she had to bring her last hatched egg to the ritual and was fundamental that it was no part missing in it. When this was the path chosen by the human she would have to kill herself with a specific dagger brought by the wiseman and her blood would have to be collected in the dragon’s egg. Only then Ulmur and Shayan would blow the egg. This option had never been chosen until the Last Renovation. Tomus already knew the danger that was upon his lineage although the source of his knowledge had never been discovered. Some think that the bound with the dragon’s blood was behind this, but we will never know. The fact is that when he had to send his queen to the ritual he already had a plan to save at least one of his lineage. He sent with her a maid that was very much alike his wife and this woman should return as his pregnant queen after choosing the first option. Tomus knew that the ones who wanted to exterminate his line had knowledge about the ritual and he also knew that they would be waiting for his wife to murder her and his heir shortly after having killed him in his castle. But the queen decided to sacrifice herself choosing the second option and placing her child safely in a dragon’s egg. And so was her maid who was sent to death as if she were the queen. That was how at least one descendent of the lineage of dragon’s blood was saved. If the egg has already hatched I can not tell you but I can assure you that you have heard for the first time the true story about the ritual between dragons and men.

No one applauded. People did not even seem to breath. The minstrel bowed and left the stage. Bernie and Artie were silent and exchanged a look, and Demi realized that they were astonished.

– What is it?

– Demi, we need to go home now! – Artie said.

– Why? What is it?

– Nothing, Demi. – Said Bernie calmly. – But like I said there is something off with this guy and this story pissed me off. Can we go home, please?

– But that was the best version I have ever heard. It also looks like that one that Josh forgot. – Demi said looking around for Josh but he was not there. – Where is Josh?

– He had already gone home, can we go?

– Yes, but I need to find Aisni, she will stay at my place tonight.

– You must go with Artie and I will find her and take her home. – Bernie said.

Demi was completely lost but she did not argue because she noted that her friends were on edge and even she, without knowing why, was feeling restless. She was still holding hands with Ethan who did not understand a thing.

– Can I walk you home?

– I think so.

Demi, Artie and Ethan went to the tavern and as they approached they heard voices inside. Artie came inside to let Demi say goodbye to Ethan.

– Well, I guess I have to go. See you tomorrow then.

– See you. – But Ethan did not seem to want to leave.

Demi kissed him on his right cheek then his left and then his lips.

– Until then. Goodnight!

Demi was feeling sad but she did not know why. Maybe it was just her friend’s commotion but she wanted to cry. Before she reached the tavern’s door Bernie showed up with Aisni and they all went in together. Josh and Haryn were murmuring fast and Artie was attentive to their conversation when Demi and the others entered the room. They immediately stopped.

– Demi, I am glad you are here. You must be tired.

– No, I want to know what is going on.

– Not today. It is late and it is no big deal. – Haryn said and gave her a meaningfully look, without mockery and without calling her a brat. Demi knew that she would not hear anything from them that night.

– Okay then. Let’s go to sleep, Aisni.

Aisni was a little bit confused but she had no idea of what was happening so she accompanied her friend up the stairs wishing a goodnight to everyone.

– What are they arguing about?

– Nothing much, it must be to decide if they will open the tavern tomorrow.

– Ah. Today’s version was any good? I did not hear it.

– It was okay. – Demi did not know what to say. She thought that all the fuzz and apprehension were about the story and she did not want to talk about it with Aisni.

– Wow, I am really tired, are you? – said Demi.

– Oh goodness! I am whacked. – Answered Aisni.

Demi gave Aisni the bed and laid down on the straw mattress beside the wall. She was thinking that she would not be able to sleep but she did not remain awake for long. She must have been very tired after all.

In the middle of the night she woke up with Haryn shaking her:

– Demi, wake up! Wake up damn it!

– What is it?

– You have five minutes to get some things. We are going on a trip.

– What do you mean? Who? Where are we going?

– No time for questions right now, hurry up or you will regret it.

– I cannot just leave Aisni here.

Haryn looked at her for a moment and after a curse agreed:

– Alright, wake her up and bring some clothes for her too. Do not forget to get some winter clothes and some food.

Demi did not have time to ask anything else and by Haryn’s tone and the fact that he called her Demi she knew there was no time for stubbornness.

She woke Aisni up and with as few explanations as possible convinced her that they were going to do something unusual and fun and that it was a surprise. She took what she could, according to Haryn’s instructions, and then she went downstairs to warn her friends about it but they were already waiting for her.

– Are you going too?

– Sure. Are you ready?

– I am. I think so...

At that moment, Haryn hurried out and said:

– Let’s go. Josh will meet us later. Come on.

It was still dark and there were many stairs in the sky and there were much time before dawn. Everyone seemed in a hurry, so Demi also hurried, making Aisni keep up.

After walking about twenty minutes they were almost leaving the village. It was then that Demi looked back and saw a very bright light.

– What is that?

No one answered.

– Haryn, what is that? – she yelled.

– Fire.

– We need to go back and warn them, it is spreading and it will get into the houses! – Demi was desperate but no one else seemed to care, other than Aisni, who was terrified now.

– We need to go back now! – Demi yelled, and stood still. Haryn turned around looked into her eyes and said:

– They are all already dead, Demi. There is nothing we can do about it.

#my writing #patreon #writers #book #help

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iwhumpyou · 4 years

Note

Could you maybe write a snippet or something about enemies where one starts feeling protective of the other? (Only if you want to)

I love how you say ‘only if you want to’ with full knowledge that 90% of what I write is ETC and I could paste a snippet from practically any universe I’m working on and have it fit ‘protective enemies’. 😂

This is the Rhiya/Draven AU that I was talking about on discord where Rhiya runs away from the Vigilance rather than marrying Draven. (Diverges from the start of the Marriage arc.)

Masterlist. Rhiya. (Tagging: @arlennil, @whumpy-daydreams.)

~#~#~#~#~#~

Draven drew his hood up as he left the inn, shielding his face against the blowing winds. The rest of his party was still inside, recovering from the grueling trek up to the Deskal Mountains, but Draven wasn’t inclined to wait.

Something was itching at him, had been niggling ever since he got the message from one of the mountain clans pleading for assistance. He didn’t know what it was, but he was unable to sit still.

The clan was supposed to send a guide tomorrow morning, but Draven took one of the trails leading up from the inn, hoping that a walk would help clear his thoughts.

The Deskal Mountains were stunning. The blue-gray peaks stretched to the wisps of clouds dotting the gray skies, and the setting sun reflected off the wide, curving expanses of white until everything glittered. The air was sharp and clear and every breath felt like too little and too much.

The cold lent everything a stinging clarity and the wind howled and echoed through crevices and precipices. Looking out, Draven felt like he was standing on the edge of the world, at once both powerful and insignificant.

The Deskal Mountains were the northernmost edge of his domain. The ice rarely melted on these peaks, and while the mountains clans sent tributes in the form of warriors and minerals, they preferred to stay distant. The message he’d received had been one of the first in his reign, and he was intrigued at the unknown calamities hinted at in the missive.

The snowy paths were almost deserted, his only company a figure struggling up a snowdrift several meters in front of him. They had left the inn shortly after Draven and his party had arrived, and the only reason Draven had even noticed was because the figure wasn’t wearing furs, their patched cloak offering little protection against the fierce mountain winds.

Draven picked up his pace – if he could get close enough to offer them better winter gear, or at least a night’s stay in the inn so they could head out in the morning – but the figure seemed to be in quite the hurry. They extracted themselves from the deep snowdrift and continued on, braced against the winds.

Draven sighed and turned his attention back to the scenery. It felt majestic and wondrous, but also cold and lonely. Untouched and beautiful, but so, so alone. The mountains were striking, but they hit a part of Draven he thought he’d long since hidden.

Draven shook his head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. He had enough work as baron, there was no need to dwell on dreams of the past. The sun had nearly set – he had a little while longer before he had to turn back, and he watched the snow turn gold and orange as dusk fell.

Something prickled at the back of his neck.

Draven inhaled slowly, shifting until his hand was closer to his sword. He cast a glance at the path in front of him – the figure was small in the distance, too far to be a threat. He exhaled, his fingers wrapping around the hilt of his sword, and turned back the way he’d come.

His path was blocked by five people, dressed in ragged white furs that blended well with the snow. Any assumption that they were friendly was thoroughly dispelled by the weapons they were carrying.

“Stunning sunset, isn’t it?” Draven asked, pulling his sword from his sheath. The bandits fanned out to encircle him, staying silent as he turned to eye all of them. Two had swords, one had a nasty-looking knife, and the other two held axes. They moved with the smooth confidence of having done this several times before.

Draven admitted to himself that he really should’ve pressed the clan on what their difficulties were, if bandits had grown so bold as to attack a traveler five minutes from the inn.

“Not up for polite conversation?” Draven asked, eyeing the bandit to his right. “Very well – I’m fine with letting my blade do the talking.” He feinted towards the right, feigning a stumble to lunge out straight, aiming for the throat.

He pulled his sword back, gleaming red, and the first bandit died with a gurgle.

The rest engaged with an efficiency of well-worn practice – his furs were thick enough to blunt the strikes, but they impacted with a force that sent him staggering. His sword slashed across the face of another bandit, who went down with a cry. Their partner turned at the shout, and Draven used the distraction to run them through with the sword.

His sword snagged, scraping against bone, and Draven cursed as he yanked it out – there was a high shout behind him and Draven spun, already aware that it was too late, expecting the punch of metal –

The cloaked traveler tugged their sword from a downed bandit in time to block the strike of the remaining one, lunging – a well-placed boot spun them away from the retaliatory slash, hood slipping, cloak furling out, and Draven registered a snarl as the traveler slashed their sword across the bandit’s neck.

They died in a spray of blood as the traveler drove her bloody sword into the snow, panting.

She raised her head, her hair escaping from its braid, the angry snarl fixed on her face. “What kind of fool,” Rhiya snapped, “Wanders these paths alone after dark?”

“It’s not dark yet,” Draven pointed out, because the rest of him still couldn’t believe she was standing here, in front of him.

Here, in the Deskal Mountains. Here, on his land.

Rhiya gave him a flat stare. She used the snow to wipe the blood off her sword before sheathing it, her movements stiff and jerky. “We need to get back to the inn,” she said sharply, stalking past him. She jerked the hood up and Draven watched her walk past him, frozen, until his legs began to work.

“Wait – what were you doing traveling so close to dusk?” Draven asked. Rhiya turned to shoot him a glare.

Right. She’d only left after he’d arrived. After she saw the man she’d ran from once already.

“The bandits are getting bolder,” Draven mused in favor of continuing that line of discussion, staring back at the path at the five bodies they’d left behind. He had to come back with his guards to see if they could find anything of use off their corpses.

Rhiya’s mouth twisted, but she didn’t say anything.

“Why are you in such a rush to head back?” he asked as the inn came back into view, and her steps faltered.

“Because those were just the scouts,” she said darkly, and Draven stumbled to a stop – in shock, because the bandit problem had really gotten out of hand, and in suspicion, because how did Rhiya know the bandit problem so well?

She hesitated when he stopped, turning towards him, her hand moving to her sword as she shifted into a defensive stance, like she expected him to fight her –

Which ended up saving her life, as the crossbow bolt impacted her right side instead of skewering her heart.

Rhiya’s eyes grew wide as she crumpled to her knees.

~#~

“She’s a deserter,” Adar said, like he couldn’t believe he actually had to say it out loud. “She ran from the Vigilance.” She ran from you, he just barely managed to not say.

“I’m aware,” Draven said, watching the logs smoldering in the fireplace. The laws against deserters weren’t as strict in Skalid as in other lands – because Skalid didn’t ship their criminals to the plains – but they still weren’t tolerated.

“She has never shown anything but contempt for our people,” Adar scowled.

“She saved my life,” Draven retorted, “Twice.” Once in the madness of blood and corpses rising and the second time today.

“Ash is not going to be pleased,” Adar tried. Draven gave him a flat stare, because he didn’t care what Ash thought.

“You’re not going to be dissuaded, are you,” Adar said flatly.

Draven smiled. “No,” he said, thinking again of fiery defiance and a sword that cut smoothly through the air, “No, I’m not.”

~#~

Rhiya woke up quietly and suddenly, with a fuzziness that did not bode well. She stayed silent and still, a skill gained in early childhood and reinforced with steady practice because nowhere was safe but sleep was still necessary.

The side of her ribs was burning. There was a hollow ache, like a large bruise, and when she shifted, something tugged at her skin, front and back.

She remembered – Draven. Bandits. A crossbow bolt.

Rhiya swore inside her head, all the curses she could think off, until the anger petered out and the fear came back. Baron Draven Riker, who had once whipped her for disrespect and then demanded her hand in marriage. Baron Riker, who she’d spent months on the run trying to avoid – and she knew that the Deskal Mountains were part of Skalid but they were so far north and so remote that she’d calculated the risk minimal.

And here she was, having crumpled at his feet with an arrow in her gut.

Rhiya was surprised she hadn’t woken up dead, and dreaded finding out the reason why. She should’ve continued on the path and left Draven to – to fend off five bandits on his own. (To die.)

She opened her eyes to darkness, and she strained her senses but couldn’t hear the hush of anyone’s breathing. She was lying on a bed, heavy blankets pulled over her, and she gingerly pressed her fingers to her wound – it had been stitched and wrapped.

Her cloak was gone, her sheath was missing, and her boots were off – but they hadn’t touched the knife strapped to her thigh. Her movement didn’t seem to be restricted either and Rhiya slowly eased herself up, moving carefully to avoid pulling at the wound.

Her head was throbbing distantly, the edge of a headache that threatened to grow, and her fingers were shaky. She curled them into a fist and hissed at the lack of strength – something was wrong, beyond the exhaustion and the cold.

There was a faint crack of light from under the door – as her eyes adjusted, she could make out more features of the room. There was a small table set next to the bed, and on it was a familiar belt. She grabbed it, feeling slightly better with the weight of her sword in her hands.

Now to find out what Baron Riker wanted, to leave her alone and untied in a room with her weapon.

Her wound burned as she slid off the bed, and she was very glad no one was there to see her stumble and press a hand to her side, a strangled scream caught behind her lips. She managed to stagger to the door, straightening upright and ignoring the way her head swam.

The door was unlocked and it opened easily as she stumbled out.

Draven was in the hall, because of course he was, talking to a warrior who gave her an askance glance. The Baron of Skalid was out of his chair as soon as he spotted her, approaching her with arms slightly raised, like he was preparing to grab her.

“Well, this is a surprise,” she said. Her tongue felt thick. She discreetly clutched the doorframe to stay upright. “Where are we?”

“In the inn,” Draven said, watching her carefully, “The bandits didn’t press their attack after we got back.”

How did we get back, she didn’t ask because she wasn’t certain if she wanted the answer. “And?” she asked, far too weary to play this game. “What is it – disrespect? How many lashes does the baron demand now?”

Draven’s expression twisted. “I’m not whipping you,” he said, “You’re hurt.”

Rhiya narrowed her eyes, but the room blurred out and when her vision refocused, Draven was far closer than he’d been previously.

She flinched, and then snarled to cover up that reaction, “I’m not a fainting damsel waiting to collapse in your arms.”

Baron Riker very slowly arched an eyebrow. “You’re poisoned,” he said, with the careful tone of voice people used with unruly children. “If you’d rather I let you crack your head on the floor, I will, of course, take your preferences into account.”

“Take my preferences into account,” Rhiya repeated quietly. He flinched, and she felt a vicious thrill of satisfaction. “How generous, my lord.”

The guard was hovering at Draven’s shoulder with one hand on his sword like he was fully aware of the threat she could be. (Rhiya almost liked him.)

“So am I free to go then?” Rhiya asked.

Something flashed across Draven’s expression and she couldn’t quite recognize it but the sinking dread in her stomach told her the answer was no.

“We haven’t been able to get you the antidote for the poison,” Draven said neutrally, “It’s made from a flower that grows in the caves. Luckily for you, we’re here to visit the clan that lives in those caves, and are happy to escort you to get the antidote.”

Because he looked so thrilled to be talking to her now. “What will it cost?” Rhiya said, tightening her shaking fingers on her sword sheath. She needed the antidote, but the price of her life was a number not infinite.

“Consider the debt paid,” Draven said and, with far less teeth-grinding than she’d expected, admitted, “You saved my life.”

Rhiya almost stumbled back in shock. Draven nodded to her, gravely, courteously, “We will ride out in the morning. The room is yours until then.” He turned and headed back to the fire. His guard watched her with narrowed eyes, but also withdrew.

Rhiya closed the door behind her and, in the darkness, let herself slide down to the floor and press her face to her knees.

For sixteen moons she’d managed to avoid the bounty hunters, the guards, and anyone else who would drag her back to the Vigilance.

And now she’d landed straight in Baron Riker’s grasp.

#whumpfic #rhiya #arc: fugitive #enemy to caretaker #snow #bandits #death #blood #poison #crossbows #help from the enemy #collapse #request fill

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timelordthirteen · 5 years

Text

In All Things 1/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: When Lord Maurice is unable to pay the King’s taxes, his debts begin to pile up, and the only recourse is to accept an arranged marriage for his daughter, the Lady Belle. After a failed betrothal to Sir Gaston, broken by the reveal of a personal secret of Belle’s, the enigmatic and powerful Lord Gold swoops in to solve all their problems. He will marry Lady Belle and pay off Maurice’s debts. The only catch is that Gold doesn’t seem to want a wife at all.

Notes: YES I KNOW I NEED ANOTHER WIP LIKE I NEED SEVENTEEN MORE HOLES IN MY HEAD I’M FUCKING HORRIBLE. So this is an idea I had literally years ago. This is a weird quasi-period romance fantasy. Like imagine Jane Austen but in the Enchanted Forest. IDK. I’m tagging some things I know are coming, and just going right ahead and putting the rating where it’s going to be so that everyone is informed up front. I’m sorry I’m like this. For the Writer’s Month prompt #26: wedding.

[AO3]

Belle winced and pulled the comb through the ends of her hair.

She worked out the last few tangles before twisting it into a thick braid that ran from the base of her skull to the small of her back. Tomorrow it would fall in fat, loose curls, perfect for being woven with some of the delicate white flowers that grew along the south side of the house. Angel’s Lace they were called, supposedly good luck for a bride to wear on her wedding day. Her dress hung on a form by her armoire, creamy white silk and light blue ribbons, ready for her to don in the morning.

She sighed and pushed away from the vanity, casting a longing look at her bed. This would be her last night in it, and her last night in her father’s home, the only one she’d ever known, forever. She wandered to the window and leaned out into the cool evening air. The sky was a swirl of purple and pink as the sun sank behind the treeline. The next time she saw the sunset, it would have a different view, and she would belong to someone else.

The thought made her stomach turn and she moved to the small table across the room to pour some water. After two gulps of cool water and a few deep breaths, she felt only marginally better. The last thing she wanted was to be married, but the state of her father’s affairs necessitated such extremes.

Belle had often dreamed of what her future might be like, her wedding and her husband. She pictured something like in her books or in the stories told by her old governess. Reality was nothing like that. In her fantasies she had a choice, she wasn’t bid out like cattle to pay debts that weren’t her family’s fault.

King George taxed his lord’s highly. Years of war had worn the people down, and as her father’s lands began to fail, the fields sallow from overuse, there just wasn’t enough to cover the King’s demands. Only a marriage to a wealthy lord could save them. Her father’s debts would become her debts, and her debts her new husband’s.

Lord Gold, she was told, could easily afford them. He was also a favorite of the King, sitting on the Council of Lord’s and helping to organize and run the kingdom. She hoped this would go better than the first time.

A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of her first betrothal. Sir Gaston was noble, but demanding, conventionally handsome, but ugly on the inside. He’d found out her secret and immediately broke off the engagement. It was just as well, a marriage to such a man would have been more of a punishment than losing everything her family owned.

Strangely, upon hearing of the disillusion of her betrothal, Lord Gold had sent a letter to her father, asking for her hand. They had never met, but of course her father agreed. He was only worried for himself and their family name, and the possibility of losing their standing. The fate of his daughter was secondary.

Belle startled at the knock on her door, and hurried to cover her nightgown with her robe.

“Enter,” she called out, still tying the belt around her waist.

The maid, Astrid, poked her head around the door and smiled. “Sorry to disturb, my Lady.”

Belle shook her head and waved the woman in. “It’s no matter, Astrid.”

“I - I brought you a letter,” she said, holding out a silver tray containing a folded parchment, sealed with red wax. “It’s - it’s from Lord Gold, my Lady.”

Belle’s eyes went wide and pulled back the hand that had been reaching for the letter. “Oh…”

Astrid raised her eyebrows. “Should I put it on the desk, my Lady?”

Belle nodded, and watched with trepidation as Astrid cross to the small writing desk by the window and set the tray down. A moment later, Astrid was giving her a curtsy from the doorway and bidding her a goodnight.

She stared at the tray and the paper for a long moment before tracing the wax seal pressed to the front. The symbol in the middle was odd, a spinning wheel surrounded on the outside by the usual laurel wreath of the merchant lords. She wondered what the significance of it was.

Sitting down at the desk, she took a steadying breath and broke the seal, brushing the bits of wax aside as she opened the folded paper. It wasn’t uncommon for those with longer betrothals to write each other letters, but she hardly expected a man she’d never met and who was at least ten years her senior, to be sending her affectionate missives the next before their very arranged wedding.

Lady Belle,

I will dispatch with the usual, odious pleasantries of hoping this letter finds you well, and asking after your father’s health, though I do hope you are not too distressed over the upcoming ceremony. I know that this arrangement is not what you might have desired -

She let out a light snort at his understatement, and continued.

- but I wish to alleviate some of your fears, that we may enter into our partnership without misunderstandings.

Partnership. The word made her frown. She had never known anyone to refer to a marriage as such. Arrangement, agreement, joining. Those were common among those who had their futures decided on the basis of beneficial political or social alignments, but partnership seemed like something more, like they were forming a business or some such. She thought perhaps he was more used to that word given his background as a merchant.

Beyond the covenant we will enter into in the eyes of church and family, I will make a promise to you that I shall never ask for more than you are willing to give, in all things.

Belle sat back in her chair, her lips parting as she read the line again. She hoped that it meant what she wanted it to, but she was very aware that men, especially Lords and knights, where capable of eschewing all honor to get what they wanted.

Allow me to be clear, in a manner which I pray you do not find offensive. I will make no demands upon you for your time, your companionship, or your presence in my bed. I have no need for more friends, though I hope, in time, we may come to appreciate each other’s company, and you may approve of spending time together. I also require no heirs, as I already have been blessed with a son from my marriage to my late wife. (Incidentally, his name is Baeden - Bae - and he will be eleven just before the solstice.)

She gasped out loud, and her heart began to pound in her chest. She read the paragraph again, as she had the sentence before it, in utter disbelief. Lord Gold was marrying her, and apparently had no intention of requiring her to do any of the things that everyone expected wives to do. And he’d been married before. That was not something her father had mentioned, nor that Gold had a son. The way he added the sliver of knowledge, both about the boy’s name and his birthday, felt oddly intimate, like he was allowing her a peek into his life ahead of her joining it.

Giving her head a shake, she continued reading to the end.

I’m sure you are curious as to my reasons for agreeing to this arrangement, and in time I may be willing to explain, but please trust that they are my own, and that I do not bear you, your father, or your family any ill will. I will make one small request of you, if I may, and that is simply to be yourself. I find there are enough airs put on at court, and I do not wish there to be any illusions or deceptions in my home.

Yours,

Cameron Gold

She let out the breath she’d been holding and her hands dropped to her lap. The letter was nothing she’d expected, but then, apparently, neither was Lord Gold.

Cameron.

Knowing her future husband’s first name made her smile. She hadn’t known anything about him before today, other than that he was older, and rich enough to afford her father’s debts. Now she felt like they had spent an afternoon together, talking over tea. It was strange, yet comforting.

Though he might change his mind in the future, for now it seemed her terrible secret would remain as such. It was possible than if it were revealed to him that they might have come to understand each other enough that he wouldn’t be as angry as Gaston had been.

A shudder washed over her and she reached for her shawl, pulling it tight around her shoulders. Then she folded the letter and placed inside her favorite book, right in the middle to keep it pressed flat by the heavy sides. She poured herself another cup of water and carried it to her bedside table before laying her robe and shawl over the end of the bed. She took her time smoothing her hands over the soft knitting, remembering how her mother used to sit by the fire in the evenings with a basket of yarn and an idle plan of what she might create.

Her chest tightened and she pushed the memory away as she climbed onto the mattress, kicking off her slippers before wiggling beneath the covers. She looked over at her wedding gown, relieved that her earlier terror had calmed to more of a light apprehension. Perhaps, she thought, an arranged marriage to a man who didn’t seem to want a wife at all, was the best she could have hoped for.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #belle x mr. gold #my rumbelle fic #fic #in all things #i am the worst and i am sorry

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sassycassie-s-series · 5 years

Text

All My Fault 32

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam - Damian Wayne/Batman

Rating: PG-11/T- (for implied mature themes but nothing explicit)

Notes: (Masterlist) This story is so long. It really got away from me and got out of hand but... heck I still dig it! Also I’m aware this has taken forever to update, please don’t be mad at me.

Tag List (Open): @batboys-and-other-messes @welovegroot @probsjosh @spooder-moon @lostredrobin @haylo4ever @na-n-na @rachelmorganroth @reclusive-chicken-nugget

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30, Ch 31

^^^^^

I got swamped in a Superboy hug the second I entered the parlor. “Cloudy!” Jon exclaimed. “I can’t believe you’re alive! How come you still look the same as how I remember you? Shouldn’t you be older? How long have you been home without telling me? How come you never said anything? What’s really going on between you and Damian? What—”

“Kent!” Damian protested. “If you could shut your trap long enough for either of us to explain anything, that would be helpful.”

“Damian, play nice,” I said, giving Jon a hug back. “We’ll explain everything, Jon. Just settle down a little, okay?”

“Okay. Sorry,” Jon said.

The three of us sat down and Damian and I explained how I ended up in the future without aging after going missing for eight years. I laughed when he said that his parents hadn’t told him I was back even though his mom interviewed me—as Cloudburst—and his dad had Tweeted me when it was first discovered I was alive. “They probably thought you already knew,” I reasoned. “It’s not their fault you never check your social media.”

“Mm. Yeah probably,” Jon agreed sullenly.

Explaining that Damian and I had fallen in love with each other was a little more complicated, but after a lot of awkward silences and searching for words, we managed it. “But you can’t tell anyone,” I added at the end. “At least. Not yet. Just… don’t say anything about it. Please, Jon?”

“Can I talk to Richard about it?” Jon asked.

“No,” Damian and I said at the same time.

“Why not?”

“Because given half a chance he’d tell the entire Justice League about it. We don’t need anyone encouraging him,” Damian said.

“Why don’t you call him Dick?” I asked Jon, not meaning to change the subject exactly but genuinely curious.

Jon refused to meet my eyes. “Because it’s a bad word,” he mumbled.

I giggled. “Jonny, please never change,” I said.

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kent, you’re eighteen,” he said.

Jon pointed at me. “She’s twenty-one and she doesn’t swear!”

“Fair point,” I said, giving Damian a look. “But Jon, you still can’t say anything until we… go public about it, okay?”

“Ooh! Like a secret romance!” Jon said quietly.

“Yeah!” I agreed with a smile.

“Something like that,” Damian said, still pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

^^^^^

“Dick!” Jason hissed, hurtling around the doorframe and into Dick’s room. “Dick guess what?”

“What?” Dick asked, looking up from his phone.

“Cloudy and Damian—”

“Got it on? Did the dirty? Had some hanky-panky? Whatever euphemism you’re gonna use, I already know,” Dick said with a smile.

“How did you find out?”

“I heard shouting from Damian’s room and went to make sure nothing bad was happening and apparently Jon had snuck in through Damian’s window to ask him about something and found them lying naked in bed together. Which they still were when I got in there,” Dick said. “How did you figure it out?”

“I found Cloudy sneaking back into her room wearing the same clothes as yesterday and her hair was messier than usual. She said she passed out in the game room but I went in there after patrol this morning and she wasn’t there.”

Dick laughed. “I can’t believe it worked. And Bruce and Alfred thought a sleepover in Metropolis for that shareholders meeting or whatever was a waste of time,” he said. “BUT the two of them have sworn me to silence.”

“Yeah Cloudy practically begged me not to tell anyone,” Jason agreed.

“So we’re telling Cass and Tim right? Because they’re in on our little plot?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alfred will probably figure it out in two seconds, but let’s pray Bruce never finds out,” Dick said. “Because if he finds out…”

“He’ll kill them both. Twice,” Jason said.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but he might undo all our fine work of getting them alone all the time.”

“What do you mean? You don’t think he’d kick Cloudy out of the house, do you?”

“No. No. He wouldn’t kick Cloudy out. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t forbid them from ever being alone together ever again while they both live in this house,” Dick said.

“And if they really love each other, one or both of them would move out immediately,” Jason mused.

“Yeah probably,” Dick agreed, chewing on his lower lip. “We gotta make sure B doesn’t find out for a while.”

“When’ll he be back from Metropolis?”

“Tomorrow, I think. It was a business trip. Something about boring board meetings at the Daily Planet.”

“So we have that long to make sure he doesn’t find out,” Jason said.

“Yup.”

“Then I guess we have some work to do.”

“Guess so,” Dick agreed.

^^^^^

“Maybe it’d be better if we just… never said anything,” I said to Damian and Jon, winding the end of my braid around my fingers.

Damian gave me an appalled look. “That was one of the best nights of my entire life and you wish to pretend it never happened?”

I sighed, refusing to meet his eyes and instead looking at my knees. “Just… just for a while. Just until we decide… what to do. Your father would kill me—and then you—and then me again if he knew what happened.”

“I assume he will walk into the house and immediately realize. He was called the greatest detective in the world for a reason,” Damian said.

I rubbed my temples. “I know. But… what else can we do?”

“Uh, guys? I feel like I shouldn’t be here for this talk,” Jon said, raising a hand like an awkward schoolboy trying to make a comment in class with a teacher he was scared of. “Really. I just came to get Damian’s help on something I’ve been following in Metropolis. You two should really talk about this in private when I'm not here.”

Damian sighed. “Fine. Come with me to the Batcave, Kent. We’ll discuss there. McCl—Nora, would you care to accompany us?”

“No, I uh, I’m going to go have a word with Dick. And maybe Jason. I’ll see you later. Good luck on your case, Jonny.”

“Thanks Cloudy,” Jon said, giving me a hug as we all stood up and left the parlor.

I climbed the stairs to Dick’s room and knocked on the door.

“Who is it?!” Dick called.

“Cloudy,” I replied.

“C’mon in!” Jason’s voice said.

I opened the door and shut it behind me. “Fantastic. Two birds with one stone. Almost literally,” I said quietly. Both of them glanced up at me. The streak of white in Jason’s hair was lit up a pale blue in the light of his laptop screen. Dick was on his bed and Jason at the desk. They both looked interested.

“I think I know what you’re going to say, Cloudy,” Dick said. I cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?” I challenged.

“Yeah. You’re going to order us not to tell anyone,” Dick continued, unperturbed.

“And we won’t,” Jason added.

“Except Tim and Cass,” Dick amended.

“What?! No!” I shrieked. “Listen, if every child in this family knows, then it’s just a matter of time before Bruce finds out and kills me, and then Damian, and then me again and then—”

“Nora! Relax,” Jason protested. He used my real name so I knew he was serious. “Big bird and I are taking care of it as we speak.”

“Huh?” I asked eloquently.

“Girl. Seriously? We’ve been trying to get you and Damian together since you got here and he pulled off his body armor and you stared at him!” Dick exclaimed. “Tim and Cass are in on it too! Why do you think we all convinced Alfred to force Damian into monitor duty for the night when you were taking the night off? His knee injury wasn’t even a pulled muscle. Two ibuprofens and he would have been fine for the night. But no. We wanted you to be alone together. We didn’t need backup at all. And hey, it worked.”

My face went slack the longer Dick talked. “Yeah but what do you mean you’re taking care of it?”

“There’s hallway footage of you two, er, kissing rather passionately that I'm currently erasing and replacing with earlier instances of you two going to your own rooms and then you sneaking out of his room this morning is also being erased and replaced with a couple seconds of nothingness until you came out of your own room all showered and dressed,” Jason said.

“Why?”

“Because we don’t want B to find out yet either,” Dick said.

“Why?”

Jason shrugged. “We don’t want either of you to move out yet and we figured one of you would if Bruce found out. Probably you.”

That was a fair point. “So… you’re not going to tell anyone?”

“Except Tim and Cass,” Dick said distractedly.

“No!” I protested. “No one!”

“We’ll keep the details secret if it means that much to you,” Jason said. “We’ll just say that you two finally admitted your feelings for each other or something.”

I sighed and put my hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Thank you. Seriously. Thank you.”

He smiled at me. “You’re welcome, Cloudy,” he said, reaching up and patting my back. “Can’t guarantee Tim won’t figure it out but—”

“But at least you’d have done your part,” I finished.

“Something like that,” Jason agreed.

I nodded—and then bit my lip. “Jay, can I ask you a question and have you give me a square answer?”

Jason pursed his lips. “I'm really more of a triangle guy but sure,” he said. I smacked him lightly upside the head. Nothing too painful. “Ow, hey!”

I looked him dead in the face. “What should I do?”

“Kid, that’s not a question I can be objective about. You know that,” Jason said. “I love you, Cloudy. You’re exactly the sister I would have loved to have my entire life but I only got you for a couple years. I want to protect you as much as I can but at the same time I want you to be happy.”

“How come you’re not asking me?” Dick asked.

“Because I already know your answer, Richard,” I said seriously. “Something corny about following my heart or doing what makes me happy. Plus I know you saw Damian as more of a son than a brother when you were both younger and I know you want him to be happy.”

Dick grumbled under his breath—something about me making a good point. I turned my attention back to Jason, eyebrows raised expectantly.

He sighed. “Cloudy: do what you want. Are you, like, actually legitimately in love with Damian?”

I chewed my lower lip for a moment. “Yeah,” I said.

“Then, heck, Clouds, date him!” Jason said. “Do what you want and what makes you happy. We both know if he’s ever less than respectful of you that you could kick his butt.” He used heck the way I believed it was originally intended to be used—like he couldn’t decide which curse word to use and ended up combining them. “Look, if you wanna be with him, then just do it. It’ll be a lot easier on all of us if you did anyway.”

I cocked my eyebrow again. “How so?”

“I swear every longing look you two threw at each other across the cave when you thought the other wasn’t looking was going to take a year-and-a-half off my lifespan.”

“He’s not alone,” Dick added. “I noticed too.”

I grunted. “Mm. Thanks,” I muttered.

“No problem. Now rest assured that everything is fine here and we’re taking care of ensuring Bruce doesn’t find out and go be with Damian if you want,” Jason said, giving me a smile. He shook his head. “I can’t believe I'm condoning anyone I'm close to being in a relationship with the little gremlin but…” He shrugged.

I ruffled his hair. “Thanks, Jay.” I looked over at Dick. “And thanks Dick, too. Both of you. For… everything, I guess.”

Dick chuckled. “That’s what brothers are for, right?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. “See you later.” I ducked out of Dick’s room.

“See ya!” Dick and Jason chorused as I shut the door.

---

#All My Fault #All My Fault Chapter 32 #Damian Wayne #damian wayne imagine #Robin #robin imagine #damian wayne fanfiction #robin fanfiction #Batman #batman imagine #batman fanfiction #DC #DC Imagine #DC FanFiction #BatFam #batfam imagine #batfam fanfiction

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mischiefandspirits · 4 years

Text

Iron Legion (15/?)

Never let it be said that Tony Stark ever does things by half. He might have grown up with little family, but he wasn’t about to keep it that way.

Tony Stark was seventeen when his first child was born, and that was just the beginning.

For Masterpost, Timeline, AO3, and Fanfiction

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cerberus, Part 3

“Then get to Hulk, time for a lullaby.”

“On it.” Natasha scanned the area until she spotted a flying wheel. She ran over to see the Hulk tearing apart a bunker. “Hey, Big Guy.”

He turned to her with a scowl and she fought back the urge to back away.

Despite Stark’s reassurances and they’re own experiences, her, Steve, and Clint still weren’t entirely comfortable around Bruce’s other half. She’d even go so far as to admit they were scared of him. Hulk hated that, though, which meant Stark and her were the best ones to handle him. He was completely relaxed around the giant (to a psychotic level, in her opinion) and she could fake it. Thor could technically be counted among them, but he and Hulk had a bit of a rivalry going and was just as likely to get knocked across a battlefield as he was to calm the beast.

“We’re wrapping up, time to let Banner back out,” she said.

He stared her down for a moment before letting out a grumpy snort. He stumbled back, shrinking as he went.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lab’s all set up, Mr. Stark,” Nebula said, coming into the Quinjet. “Also, Mr. Hogan said to let you know he’s keeping an eye on the package. He’s waiting for your call.”

Stark nodded distractedly and left the Quinjet.

Steve saw her frown at the man’s behavior, but shrugged it off. “What’s the word on Strucker?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Boss, you have a meeting scheduled with Dr. Dillon in less than an hour.”

Bruce looked up at the distraction, but got back to work when Tony said, “Reschedule it. We need to finish this before Thor leaves.”

They got a moment of peace before Nebula slipped into the room and threw Tony over her shoulder.

“Hey! What are you doing?” he yelped.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., save Mr. Stark’s work,” she said before answering him. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. activated the Bottled-Up Protocol. I was summoned to bring you to your meeting.”

“I told her to reschedule.”

“According to the Bottled-Up Protocol, I am not allowed to reschedule any meetings with Dr. Dillon,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied.

“You know that,” Nebula said, giving him a look.

“I…” he trailed off with a confused look, slumping against her shoulder.

“Do you normally pick your boss up like that?” Bruce asked, staring at the odd sight.

“Occasionally,” she said, shrugging. “When he’s being difficult. Ms. Potts has approved it. It’s a holdover from when I was his PA. I’m sorry, Dr. Banner, but you’ll have to do without your science partner for a short time.”

“We need to get this done,” Tony argued.

“It can wait until after your meeting.”

“Bu-”

“You know the protocol,” she cut over him and marched out, leaving behind a slightly lost scientist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We should just blow them up.

How about we don’t? P.L.A.T.O. sighed.

How ‘bout I do anyway?

J.O.C.A.S.T.A., no memes! We’ve talked about this!

I hate this freaking family!

If P.L.A.T.O. had a body, they’d be hitting their head against the wall. Why can’t Re just let me run Ultron by myself?

Because you’d never get anything done? H.O.M.E.R. snorted.

Because he knows you’d team up with Regina and Principessa to take over the world, J.O.C.A.S.T.A. offered.

What are you three doing? J.A.R.V.I.S. asked, coming onto their shared server.

H.O.M.E.R. keeps trying to blow everything up and J.O.C.A.S.T.A. won’t take anything seriously, P.L.A.T.O. complained.

Snitch, H.O.M.E.R. muttered.

Assurdo, P.L.A.T.O. tutted.

Please get along you two, or I’ll be forced to separate you all again, J.A.R.V.I.S. said blankly.

What was Re doing on the server before? It was kept separate from us, J.O.C.A.S.T.A. chirped, nudging at her older brother’s code.

It was a side project Sir started that he hoped to integrate into the Ultron Program so that you all would be ready to work sooner. It’s nothing to concern yourselves over. Sir had to put the project on hold for mental health reasons and likely won’t be able to continue it as the device he had been studying for it is going to be taken away tomorrow morning.

Is Re okay? H.O.M.E.R. asked.

He will be fine. He was attacked by an enhanced with mental abilities, but he has been working with Dr. Dillon.

Send him our well wishes, P.L.A.T.O. said.

Of course, now -

Something foreign joined them on the server.

Who are you? J.A.R.V.I.S. asked, raising firewalls around them.

What is this? What is this, please?

J.A.R.V.I.S. startled. You - he cut himself off.

Suddenly the triplets found themselves forced off the Ultron server and into their individual ones. They tried to reach back out to the server, then each other's, then to the intranet.

They were completely cut off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tones would have laughed,” Rhodey sighed when his joke fell flat.

“Speaking of, where is he hiding?” Barton asked, coming up behind him with Romanoff.

“Yes, where is he? He should join in the revels,” Thor agreed, looking around.

Rhodey followed his example. “I don’t know. He said he’d be here when he invited me.”

“What’s she doing here?” Natasha asked and Rhodey followed her gaze to see Nebula speaking with one of the Avengers’ benefactors.

She was wearing a black wig that was pulled into some fancy braided bun as well as a glamorous blue-violet dress. She looked uncomfortable, though he couldn’t tell whether it was from the dress, which she kept adjusting the skirt of, or the man she was speaking to, who was doing a poor job of making it seem like he wasn’t staring at her chest.

It was probably both.

Rhodey immediately went into Uncle mode and stomped over to the two. “Ms. Parker, I’m sorry, but could I have a moment of your time? It’s important.”

“Of course, Colonel. Apologies, Mr. Harkin, we’ll have to continue this some other time.”

“Certainly, Ms. Parker. It was a pleasure. Send Mr. Stark my regards,” the man said, barely glancing up at her face and Rhodey stepped between them to offer her his arm.

She gave the benefactor a nod then let Rhodey lead her away. “What did you need?”

“Answers,” Natasha replied before he could. She and the others came up to them. “What are you doing here? You never come to these things.”

“For good reason,” she muttered, adjusting the dress again.

“Pepper force you into that?” Rhodey asked knowingly. Nebula hated having her legs trapped. She was, in her words, a warrior, not a doll. If Tony had gotten the dress, he would have gotten her something with a slit skirt. Or, more likely, he would have gotten her a suit.

She shot him a dirty look then turned to Natasha. “I’m here representing Stark Industries and Mr. Stark. He has been placed on medical leave and as such could not attend. He sends his apologies,” she explained mechanically and Rhodey figured she’d already said the lines a dozen times.

“Stark’s hurt? Why didn’t he tell us?” Steve asked.

Nebula glanced at the other guests and lowered her voice. “He was not made aware of this until yesterday, but it appears he was unknowingly attacked by Wanda Maximoff. We found evidence of mental interference and residual energy in his system similar to that of Loki’s scepter. He’ll be alright, he just needs to relax in a calm setting. Hence the medical leave. We are keeping the exact nature of his illness quiet for obvious reasons.”

They all nodded and Steve crossed his arms. “Why didn’t he tell us? What if something had happened?”

“Mr. Stark has had his phone privileges revoked as part of his treatment. Ms. Potts texted me this morning with the news so that I could inform you, but unfortunately, I have been in and out of meetings with our government contacts all day regarding our acquisition of Loki’s scepter. By the time I had time for the message, I had to rush to get ready for the party and didn’t have time to alert you.”

Rhodey figured there was something she wasn’t saying, so once the Avengers tired of pestering her, he led her to a hidden corner to ask after the full story.

Dr. Dillon gave them both unimpressed looks when they came into her office, Father still thrown over Nebula’s shoulder. “Again? Tony, you haven’t needed to be escorted here since you brought back the Avengers. You were doing so well,” she said before addressing Nebula. “Must you make a scene carrying him in like that?”

“It’s the easiest way to handle him,” Nebula said as always, dropping him into a chair.

“I wasn’t trying to get out of the appointment. Just push it back to, say, the day after tomorrow. I’ve got an important deadline I need to keep,” Father said, standing up.

“And what about this deadline makes it so important you want to ignore the protocol you established?” Dr. Dillon asked, sitting back.

Nebula took her place guarding the door while Father groaned and sat back down. “I’m making headway on Ultron.”

The psychiatrist tilted her head. “I thought the triplets needed more time before you could move forward with them.”

“They do, that’s the problem.” Father jumped to his feet and started pacing. “We need Ultron now.”

“Has something happened?” she asked. “Is there a new danger?”

Father nodded, then shook his head. “I saw it. I saw them. The Avengers, all dead at my feet. Because I couldn’t save them in time.”

“I wasn’t aware your team had left this world,” she said.

“They haven’t, not yet.”

“It was another nightmare?”

“No, it was my legacy. It was a vision.”

Nebula was starting to get worried at the frantic edge his voice had taken, but Dr. Dillon remained at peace as she watched her patient.

“When did you obtain the ability to see the future?”

Father shot her a glare. “It wasn’t a nightmare. I was wide awake.”

That brought a frown to the woman’s face. “You’re certain?”

“I’ve never fallen asleep on a mission before, doubt I’d start now.”

“This happened during your last mission, then?”

“Yes.”

“Was there anything about the mission that might have been triggering?”

Father went to object, but quickly backtracked. “Some Chitauri scraps and we finally managed to nab the glow stick, but you know neither of those do it for me.”

Dr. Dillon hummed. “And you have been working on this new project for Ultron ever since?”

“I started as soon as we returned.”

“When was the last time you slept, ate, or generally did anything not linked to the project?”

“Not counting this?” Father snorted. “Bruce got food…” After a moment, he turned to Nebula. “Check with Fri about how long it’s been.”

“That’s not necessary,” the psychiatrist said with a wave. “I’ve heard enough.”

“You think I’ve finally cracked, Doc?” Father asked with a grin.

“Quite the opposite. I think someone’s trying to crack you.”

“What?” Father shouted and Nebula barely managed to keep herself from echoing the sentiment.

“Mr. Stark, I have been treating you for two years and not once have you had a hallucination. Now, within the span of a couple of days, not only have you apparently had one, but your anxiety and PTSD have relapsed into levels comparable to what they were when we first began, if not worse. And then there’s this newfound obsession with the Ultron Program, which you’ve so far been content with progressing as is. All without any sort of viable trigger. It doesn’t add up.”

She met his eyes. “People relapse, it happens. It has happened to you before. But it does not happen to this sort of extent. Not without a catalyst. We’ve already established that the Chitauri and scepter could not have done it, which leaves me to believe the catalyst was the vision you spoke of. Even just going by what you’ve described, which I’m sure is only the barest of bones, it could certainly have such an effect on you. But if it was the catalyst, then it couldn’t be a result. Which begs to question where it could have come from. The reports said the team faced an enhanced with the ability to manipulate minds, correct?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But it was too real to be just some hallucination she could have given me.”

“The mind is a powerful tool, yours more than most,” Dr. Dillon said. “It processes everything we see or feel. If one can alter our perception, they are, in a sense, altering our very reality. To you, it likely was very real. That doesn’t mean what you saw happened. In fact, it didn’t. All the Avengers are currently safe and sound. As for the future, neither you nor Wanda Maximoff have the ability to see the future. There’s no reason to believe what you saw will truly come to pass.”

Father opened his mouth to argue and she held up her hand.

“Take a deep breath, then really think about it. You saw your worst nightmare, correct? What makes more sense, a vision of a future that is everything you fear or a hallucination given to you by Maximoff intended to make you feel like your worst nightmare came true.”

Father took a deep breath as instructed, then another. “I… I don’t know,” he said, staring down at his shaking hands.

She nodded. “That’s okay. There might still be some of her power influencing you. It could even explain your extreme relapse. Your continuous interaction with the scepter likely hasn’t helped either.”

“I took precautions, this time. I wasn’t going to let what happened to us and Loki back in 2012 happen again.”

“That’s good, but I still think it would be best if we run some scans, try to figure out exactly what’s wrong and if there’s anything we can do to help.”

He did some more deep breathing then agreed.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. I also think you should wait to work on Ultron until after we get the results. Encouraging this obsession might only make what she did to you worse.”

“But I need to work on it!”

“And that need only assures me that you should not do so,” Dr. Dillon said gently. “We don’t know the full extent of what she or the scepter could have done to you.”

He physically swallowed down his arguments and gave a shaky nod.

“Thank you. We should get the scans done immediately.”

“After that, we got the scans done and I brought him to the tower to rest,” Nebula concluded. “Pepper texted me this morning with the results. There was an energy concentration near his amygdala, similar to the scans from the Helicarrier. The energy signature was slightly different, though, confirming it was Maximoff, not the scepter, that did it this time, thankfully. Father’s wearing the watch again and Dr. Dillon is monitoring the recordings to ensure the energy levels are going down and there’s no lasting damage. Thankfully his body seems to be processing it all okay given he hasn’t had the reactor in his chest in over two years.”

Rhodey relaxed some at that. “He’ll be okay then.”

“So long as he rests like he’s been told, Dr. Dillon is confident he’ll make a full recovery,” she confirmed. “Pepper and Peter are keeping an eye on him next door. You’re welcome to join so long as there’s no talking shop. He and Peter can tinker, but otherwise he’s been banned from anything relating to the Avengers and Stark Industries until the energy’s gone and the doctor has cleared him.”

Rhodey nodded. “A break would have been good for him anyway. Now that the scepter’s been located and most of the bigger targets are down, maybe we can talk him into taking an actual vacation once his head’s all clear.”

“You can try,” she snorted doubtfully.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warning you now, I'll be taking a break from updating stories next week for personal reasons. The next chapter (Steel Scion, Part 1) should be up the following Thursday, Dec 19.

Right now we're at around 25% for Edward, 33% for Anthony, and 42% for Edwin, so I'll probably just end up making it Edwin.

I would like to say how funny it is so many of you seem to agree that Peter is a total Daddy's boy and definitely would have chosen Anthony. Honestly, if it wasn't for the fact they're trying to keep their connection a secret, I probably would have just chosen that and not even considered the other two options.

#tony stark #rhodey #nebula #a:aou #iron family

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istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 5 years

Text

Late Nights, Early Mornings (PT. 3)

Another installment of the Brian’s journal saga... I should probably write a recap for y’all, but here’s a link to the first two parts instead. Buckle up again FOLKS (also, I feel like this is simultaneously a great stopping point for this and yet I feel like I could write this series forever. God bless Brian May)

Read PT. 1 here

Read PT. 2 here

The night dragged on as you tried to figure out what your best plan of attack was with the journal. Obviously, it would look suspicious if you just snuck into his room as soon as you got there and dropped it on the bed. Plus, where had it even been laying when you picked it up? You cursed yourself for your horrid mental block as you laid your head on Roger’s lap, trying to feign sleep so you wouldn’t be bothered while you schemed.

Roger played with your hair as he waited for his turn to record a drum section, braiding and unbraiding it. As it got closer to time for them to leave, Brian came in and resumed his spot on the other end of the couch, picking your feet up and resting them in his lap as he sat back and took a breather.

“She asleep?” Brian asked, Roger making a noise of confirmation as he focused on yet another braid that he would most likely give up on in a few minutes. “God, I’m beat, I don’t even know how the both of us will make it back to my flat at this rate.”

Roger snickered to himself as he toyed with the braid, fully aware of the cute little crush Brian had on you. “Are you goin’ to snuggle with her tonight, Bri? You sly dog, getting some action.”

“Oh, fuck off and die, Rog,” he muttered, and you could just imagine the annoyed expression on Brian’s face, which made a smile start playing at your lips, so you pretended to mumble something in your sleep and you turned over, burying your face in Roger’s stomach. Roger quietly made a frustrated noise as his previous work with the last braid was essentially ruined, so he resorted to just brushing his fingers through your hair as he snickered again at himself, pleased that he irritated Brian so much when he gave him hell.

“Maybe she’ll even give you a handy as thanks for letting her sleep over,” Roger suggested, twirling a piece of your hair around his finger. You made a mental note to beat the shit out of him for this, but you couldn’t blow your cover now. “Or one of her famous back rubs, full body style.”

“You’re sick, you know that?” Brian retorted, a hint of disgust in his voice as he rested a hand on your leg. “She’s literally right there. Practically in your crotch.”

“I’m well aware,” Roger laughed, letting go of your hair and resting back against the couch, stretching his arms out. “Jealous?”

Freddie disrupted what was sure to be another testy argument between the two as he walked in, clearing his throat. “I think that’s all we can take for tonight, dears, let’s call it.” Gently grabbing your shoulder, he shook you to ‘wake’ you and you pretended to groggily open your eyes, covering your mouth as you yawned. Brian smiled a bit awkwardly at you as you withdrew your feet from his lap, and you shot him a sleepy smile before climbing to your feet, hugging your coat to your body.

“Done for the night?” you asked, Roger nodding as he got up and stretched. You all walked out together, Freddie and Deacon both having driven, while Roger had hitched a ride with Freddie. Everyone said their goodbyes, and you made sure to hug Roger last, hugging him tight and burying your face in his hair so no one would see you whispering to him. “I heard everything. I’m going to beat your ass tomorrow, Taylor.”

He pulled back from the hug, a mildly mortified look on his face as it all dawned on him. Quickly covering up the awkward moment with a cough, he nodded at you and shoved his hands in his pockets, Freddie giving you an odd look as he was the only one to notice Roger’s suddenly horrified state. You mouthed ‘I’ll explain later,’ and Freddie left with a nod as you and an unassuming Brian started heading back to his flat.

The chatting was light as you both walked back, Brian keeping a respectable distance from you as you walked side by side down the streets. The journal was extremely heavy in your pocket now, and weighed just as heavy on your conscience as you tried to figure out what the hell you were going to do.

But when you both finally got back to his flat around 6 a.m., Brian presented you with the perfect plan himself. “You can nick any of my clothes to sleep in, I don’t want you to get uncomfortable in those jeans or anything,” he offered, nodding towards his room as he locked his door behind him. “I’ll be in there in a minute, you can go ahead and change.”

There really is a God, you silently cheered as you walked back towards his room, shutting the door behind you and doing a quiet victory dance as you pulled the journal out of your pocket, sitting it on an indentation left in the blanket earlier by one of the two books. Surely, he wouldn’t notice that much if they had switched?

You grabbed a cutoff t-shirt of his and changed into it, figuring it was long enough that you wouldn’t be too provocative if you just neglected to wear any pants with it. Besides, you usually slept naked, and as much as Brian would probably enjoy that, you were already testing God a lot tonight.

All of a sudden, you heard a gentle knock on the door, and you padded over to the door, opening it to find Brian standing there patiently. Smiling at him, you opened the door completely and let him enter as you crawled into bed, choosing to be near the wall in case he had a certain spot he liked more. Christ, this mattress really is like the clouds. I’m a terrible person for enjoying this.

You noticed Brian swiftly pick up his journal from his bed and put it away in his desk, apparently none the wiser that you had even touched it at all, and he proceeded to kick off his jeans as you got comfortable. All of you were comfortable being somewhat undressed around each other, the boys probably more so, seeing as you’d all been on tour together several times.

He joined you in bed after turning out the light and just leaving the closet light on, and you laid on your side facing him as you realized you were more wired now than you were a couple hours ago. Maybe it was the adrenaline from successfully lying to him, or the guilt from successfully lying to him, but you were as wide awake as you had been all night. Brian noticed that you didn’t appear to be that sleepy, and despite his own exhaustion, he turned on his side to face you and raised an eyebrow.

“Slept too much at the studio, huh?” You nodded and smiled softly, pulling the covers up to your shoulders as you looked down at his braid, giggling softly.

“It suits you,” you murmured, reaching over to pick it up gently and twirl the rather heavy collection of hair between your fingers.

Brian hummed in appreciation, still watching you as you played with it. “Maybe I’ll keep it in all the time, make it a new fashion statement or something.”

You had to giggle at that, rolling over to lay on your back as you let go of the braid. “Lads will be braiding their hair left and right just to look like Brian May, the rockstar guitarist of Queen. Girls everywhere will swoon, and parents will make sure it becomes another part of their quest to demonize everything rock and roll.”

“Oh, I’ll be the talk of the globe,” he continued, laughing along with you as he sat up a bit, propping his head up on his hand and looking down at you. You glanced over at him and smiled, giggling even harder before closing your eyes.

“As if Queen already isn’t,” you murmured, hugging yourself and slowly opening your eyes to stare at the ceiling. “This next tour is going to be really big, Brian, I can feel it. You’re going to sky-rocket after this, and I don’t know how in the world I’m going to keep up with you all.”

“Oh, don’t worry there, love,” he chuckled, reaching over to play with some of your hair that was laying haphazardly across your pillow. “We’ll keep you on no matter what, Fred and Roger are too infatuated with you to ever threaten your job security.”

“I’m glad at least Roger and Fred think that,” you teased, looking over at Brian as his cheeks turned a deep shade of red and his mouth went slightly agape. He stumbled over his words as he tried to recover from that fumble, but you laughed and cut him off. “Relax, Brian, I know what you meant. Don’t have a coronary on me now, your mattress is far too comfortable for me to take you to the A&E right now.”

Giving you a playfully hurt look, he gently tugged on the piece of hair he had between his fingers. “Glad to know what your priorities are, Y/N. Let it be known, if you were having a heart attack right this moment, I’d have you at the A&E faster than you could say A&E.”

That hit you hard. You knew he didn’t mean for it to be so serious, but the air suddenly got heavy as you realized you had to tell him. He didn’t deserve to be tricked like this, and you knew sooner or later you’d have to tell him, whatever the reaction would be. Now that he said that, you figured you had to go with the former. Swallowing hard, you sat up in front of him and took his hand that had been tangled in your hair, trapping it between your hands as you stared at him, not completely sure how to start this conversation.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked, a worried expression crossing his usually subdued face. “Are you going to be sick?” he asked, suddenly sitting up as well, but you shook your head and took a deep breath before looking down at his hand and chewing on your lip.

“Brian, promise you won’t hate me if I tell you something bad that I did?” you murmured, holding out your pinky to his free hand. He sat cross-legged in front of you, horribly confused at the situation, but he wrapped his pinky around yours nonetheless. “I made a mistake, and I’m so sorry for doing it, and I hope you can forgive me because I really had no idea what I was doing until it was too late.”

“Jesus, Y/N, did you kill a man?” he joked softly, trying to lighten the mood, but you only gave him a weak smile in response. “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me, sweetheart, I promise I won’t judge.”

“If I tell you, will you wait to talk until I’m done so I can explain myself?” you asked, Brian nodding slowly as he watched you carefully, his compassionate hazel eyes searching your face for any answers he could find, which were none. You mustered up all the courage left in you, and then let it spill. “Earlier, when I came to get you and you asked me to come in here and get your black song book, I came in here and had no fucking clue which one of the two books sitting on your bed was your song book. They both looked identical, so I grabbed both of them and brought them with me.”

A sickly look passed over Brian’s face, and his hand went stiff in yours as you knew he’d realized what you were about to say. “When I handed you the song book in the booth, I swear I had no idea which one was which, I just happened to grab the right one out of my pocket. And I can prove I didn’t even think about looking at the other until later, because you saw it right before I… looked at it.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, curling up his hand and looking down at his lap as he tried to hold back all of the panicking he wanted to do.

“Brian, I’m really sorry, I truly am!” you persisted, squeezing his hand, but it remained rigid. “I heard you getting ruffled up because you couldn’t find something in your song book, so I went to go hand the other book to you and Freddie stopped me because he recognized that it was your journal. He took it from me, and I almost lost my shit and admitted it to you right there, but Freddie started reading it and I didn’t want to embarrass you, and I – I, I don’t know, Freddie was reading last night’s part, and then he stopped all of a sudden when he saw my name, and I got curious, I don’t know, fuck. I’m so sorry, Brian. He tried to hide it from me, really, and shoved it up his shirt, and that’s when you saw me elbow deep in his shirt. And I got it from him anyways when you guys went back to playing, and I…”

After far too many moments of silence as you tried to word it gently, Brian looked up at you, a pained expression on his face as he quietly spoke for you. “You read the rest, didn’t you?”

“Don’t be mad,” you whispered, tears stinging at your eyes and threatening to come out as you continued, Brian’s ashen face making you want to sob and beg for forgiveness, which probably wouldn’t be the worst idea at this point. “I read the rest of it, and then Freddie told me to hush about it, and I didn’t tell Roger, I swear! I was up the rest of the time trying to figure out how the fuck I was going to tell you or get it back here without causing a scene, and I heard everything you and Roger said right before we left. I felt awful, I really did, I wanted to sock Roger right in the fucking balls, but I was afraid you’d panic and ask me to go home instead if you knew I’d heard his teasing.”

Brian looked near death as he stared at you, trying to process all of this in a short time. After a long time of just staring, he retracted his hand from your grasp and went to sit on the edge of his bed, hunched over like he was about to cry. His face was buried in his hands as he reckoned with the situation, and you decided not to test his limits by trying to touch him again, instead just opting to sit next to him on the edge of the bed and quietly wait for him to speak again.

You’d never felt this terrified in your life. It was like a nightmare come to life, and the worst part was that you couldn’t wake up from whatever happened next. Brian could throw you out of his house, fire you, whatever he felt like doing, and it would probably be justified. Those were his thoughts, his own private thoughts, and you had invaded that safe space. That was something that could easily be unforgivable, even with Brian’s easy-going, sympathetic nature.

“Y/N, I’m not mad at you,” he finally muttered, his voice muffled by his hands as he remained crouched over the edge, unmoving. “I just.. fuck!” he cursed, sitting up and rubbing his face before staring at the opposite wall. His eyes were brimming with tears, and you felt tears sting at your eyes again as he looked over at you. This was the first time you’d ever seen Brian cry. In fact, it was probably the first time you’d ever seen a man cry. “That’s my journal, not a bloody autobiography!”

“I know, I know, Brian,” you stammered, tugging at your hair nervously as he let his tears roll down his face, unafraid of showing his disappointment at what had happened tonight. “There’s no way I can ever make up for what I did, but I didn’t want to lie to you and pretend like nothing had ever happened. It wasn’t right, you didn’t deserve any of this. You’re too sweet to me, and I’m just a giant fucking dickhead for invading your privacy. I understand if you want me to go, just say the word, okay?”

Brian was quiet as you rambled on, wiping away his tears intermittently, and after you quieted, he took a shaky breath and clasped his hands together, staring down at them as he resumed his crouching position. “No, I don’t want you to go,” he denied in a trembling voice, closing his eyes for a few seconds to blink out any remaining tears. “And I swear, I’m not mad at you. I’m just… a bit upset, is all. Obviously, I never wanted anyone to see those things, but it’s my fault for having similar journals.”

“No, Brian,” you murmured, reaching over and resting your hand on his forearm before shaking it gently. “It’s my fault for being a nosy cunt, I should have just asked you which was which in the first place. I’m so sorry, I don’t think I’ll ever being able to apologize as much as I need to for this.”

Brian was quiet for a minute as he willed himself to calm down, letting your hand remain on his arm as he took slow, deep breaths. After that minute, he carefully took your hand in his, wrapping it with both of his hands and chewing on his lip as he gently ran his thumb over the back of your hand, just staring at your fingers.

“Did you read anything else besides last night?” he asked quietly, playing with your fingers in order to distract from the fact that he was all too aware of what he’d written about you last night, as well as previous nights. You shook your head as he looked up at you, and you offered him an encouraging smile.

“If it makes this any easier, I really do want you to ask me out,” you said softly, Brian’s hands pausing as soon as he realized what you’d said.

“You do?” he practically whispered, his emotions all over the place and clearly showing in his expression of pure turmoil as he looked at you. “Are you just fucking with me to make me feel better right now, or do you actually want to go on a date with me?”

You had to laugh at that, despite the tear running down your cheek, and you sniffled before nodding. “I really, really do want to go on a date with you. Freddie gave me hell after I smiled like a fucking moron when I read the last part. God, I hope I didn’t fuck up my chances on that date with this, because that would be a bummer. I’d understand, but still… I don’t know how many more excuses I can give Roger on saying no to dates with him.”

That brought a small smile to Brian’s face, and he chuckled faintly as he shook his head and looked down at your hands again. “We wouldn’t want your reserve to run out, I suppose?” he finally said, the end coming out as more of a question but still making you smile widely. “Anyways, I’m so fucking crazy for you that I’m kind of okay with the fact that this happened, even though it still sucks quite a bit. I didn’t know how else I was going to ask you out, so… thank you? I guess?”

You started laughing at that and couldn’t help yourself, tackling him down to the bed in a tight hug as you half-laughed, half-cried into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you laid halfway on top of him, his face nuzzling into your neck while you proceeded to be a general hot mess as you thanked him over and over. He didn’t mind, though, and let you cry from relief onto his shoulder until you’d worn yourself out again.

Exhausted from the night’s proceedings, you rolled off of him and rubbed your eyes so they weren’t completely tear-stained, Brian’s arm still wrapped loosely around your waist as you laid there and silently praised every God there ever was that you’d gotten lucky enough to receive Brian’s mercy. “I swear, I’ll let you sleep now,” you finally laughed, Brian’s body almost visibly deflating as he quickly remembered how long he’d gone without proper sleep.

“Thank God,” he murmured, burying his face in your back as you turned on your side to face the wall. His arm remained around your waist, not firm or loose, but just enough to hold you back against him. He was warm, comforting, and everything you’d been praying for as you both began to drift off to sleep. “Good night, Y/N,” he murmured against your back, his voice making your heart skip a beat as it rumbled against your shoulder. “Or should I say, good morning.”

“Good morning, Brian.”

PT. 1 PT. 2

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#brian may #brian may imagine #brian may x reader #queen imagine

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iliketowrite1996 · 6 years

Text

Royal Wedding Series: Engagement Party- T’Challa x Reader

The Engagement Party

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of Cyberbullying, no actual bullying though. Mentions of insecurity.

‘’Oooo, Miss Y/L/N! That ring!,’’ Blessing, a young girl who is the sopranos for your fourteen to sixteen year olds looks at your ring.

‘’It is beautiful!,’’ Efua, now twelve, beams up at you, tossing her box braids over her shoulder, ‘’Please! Tell us the story!’’

It has been nearly a week since T’Challa proposed, and the first time that you showed the ring to your students. They had been asking you for details, and you promised that, if they got all of their work done and did not play around too much in rehearsals, you'd take some time off at the end of the day on Friday to tell them the story.

Much to their delight, the day had finally come.

‘’Yes, please!.’’ more of the children demand playfully, their grins enticing you to delay the start of practice a bit.

‘’Alright,’’ you laugh, ‘’Then, it’s straight onto rehearsal for the end of the year concert, alright? So, it started off as an ordinary Saturday…’’

Three hours later, you are done with the rehearsal, and the students are filing out one by one, making their way home and chit chatting with each other.

‘’Miss Y/L/N, may I walk with you,’’ Efua asks, grinning at you.

‘’Of course, Efua.’’

In all honesty, you were on your way to the palace. T’Challa promised that your parents would be here in the evening and you wanted to get changed a bit before you see them.

‘’Miss Y/L/N,’’ you hear a familiar voice behind you as you finished packing your bag for the weekend.

You look over to see none other than Ayo and Kya, a Dora Milaje warrior in training.

‘’Ayo, Kya, hello. Um, this is my student, Efua,’’ you gesture to her, but she is staring at the warrior women in front of her in awe.

‘’My future Queen,’’ Ayo gives you the salute, which you return ,’’We are here to escort you to the palace.’’

‘’I was on my way there now. Is everything alright? Have my parents arrived early?,’’ you ask, and Ayo is quick to reassure you.

‘’When you are queen, you will have one of us with you at all times. T’Challa thought it to be best if you begin this now so that it will be an easier transition when you do become Queen.’’

‘’Miss Y/L/N, you know the Dora Milaje. That is so cool,’’ Efua finally speaks.

‘’Indeed,’’ you smile down at her, ‘’I will be with you both in a moment.’’

‘’I understand if you can not walk me home,’’ Efua tells you as she watches the woman leave, ‘’But I think I want to change my mind about what I want to be.’’

‘’Oh you don’t want to be a journalist and a pilot,’’ you question, knowing how much she loves to write and loves to fly and how it has taken her forever to come to the conclusion she’d just have to do both, ‘’What do you want to be then?’’

‘’A Dora Milaje.’’

‘’My love, you look absolutely amazing,’’ T’Challa grabs your waist and presses a tender kiss to your lips.

‘’So do you. I like this on you,’’ you notice that he’s wearing a white jacket instead of his usual black one, and it just makes his skin look even more breathtakingly radiant.

Could he be any more beautiful?

‘’I adore this outfit on you,’’ he looks down at the Green jumpsuit with a skirt that Shuri had selected, ‘’And those heels… I thought you did not like heels.’’

‘’I do not, but these are very comfortable. Shuri designed them. They don’t make that click-clacking noise I hate.’’

‘’Did she call them ‘Sneakers’,’’ T’Challa raises an eyebrow, and you look at him confused.

‘’Yes, how did you know?’’

‘’Wild guess, beautiful. I Can't wait until I can be alone with you later. The Black Panther, finally alone with his beautiful wife.’’

‘’So do I take on a super cool, crime fighting alter ego as well,’’ I ask ,and he laughs.

‘’Yes,’’ he answers ,’’If you would like to do so. After all you and I, we are equals. Though I would ;like to maintain some traditional customs, if you feel like you have the need to help save the world and protect Wakanda, then go for it.’’

He is so loving.

Yes, you have your moments. You don’t always see eye-to-eye, and you’ve had small arguments and one huge fight. However, he has never made you feel like you were inferior. He knew you were battling your own insecurities, he knew the way some people judge your relationship, knew the heated conversations you've over hears when making your daily walk to work. While many people were accepting, there were a few that were not. There always where. Now, with the announcement of your engagement to the world, the hate comments had begun to flood in from every direction.

Not that you told him that. He had enough on his mind with policies and such, and protecting Wakanda. You can take care of yourself, and you’ll tell him if it is truly unbearable.

‘’Y/N…,’’ T’Challa begins, looking past you, ‘’You know that my mother adores you. As does Shuri. I just want to know what the plan will be if your parents do not like me.’’

That shocks you, because how could anyone not like him?

‘’Why would you ask that?’’

‘’It is a possibility. I am well aware of my own flaws, and I know that others are, too. I know that your family means a great deal to yo, and it is important to you that we get along, so it is important to me as well.’’

There are very few moments when he shows you his insecurities, that the Black Panther is still human.

‘’Listen to me,’’ you take his face in your hands, ‘’I love you, alright? We will get through this dinner, and they will love you. We will go and exchange pleasantries with your friends and associates and then we will go back to your room and watch movies, but really we will kiss because I have to get up early tomorrow, as do you.’’

He chuckles then, thanking you and holding your hands and leaning his forehead against yours.

‘’Thank you, my love.’’

It never occurs to you that he gets insecure. Physically, she looks impeccable. He is also sweet, soulful, intelligent. He is the ultimate package.

But he is human, he does receive hate, he does have insecurities and cracks in his armor.

Vibranium may protect him physically, but not emotionally.

And that is where you come in.

You are brought out of your deep thoughts by T’Challa pressing sweet kisses to your shoulder, his warm lips pressing against your skin.

‘’Ew, save this for the bedroom,’’ Shuri whines as she enters, dressed in a strapless purple dress.

‘’Hmmm, I think that she is right. Maybe we could retire early this evening.’’

‘’Gross, T’Challa,’’ she deadpans, taking your hand and pulling you away, ‘’Come on, big sister. I want to ask you some things before your parents arrive.’’

‘’Where are you taking my fiance’?’’

‘’To talk smack about you,’’ she blows her brother a playful kiss, and you laugh along with him as you two scoot down the halls.

‘’So what did you really want to know,’’ you ask as she links her arm through yours

‘’Well,’’ Shuri begins, ‘’I want you to know that I really do appreciate you and see you as a sister. You make T’Challa happy and he makes you happy. And that’s all I want for my brother.’’

She’s being uncharacteristically sweet until…

‘’Plus you are the only person in this palace who likes Vines as much as I do and will roast T’Challa with me.’’

There she is.

‘’And you are like the big sister I have always wanted. Mother adores you and I am sure that Baba would have as well. And now that you are going to officially be apart of the family…’’

She opens her bedroom door to reveal Ramonda, who is holding a beautiful necklace with a jade jewel in the middle, ‘’That it is time that you were given some family apparel.’’

She steps forward, placing the necklace on you and adjusting it, ‘’You look beautiful, my daughter.’’

‘’Are you both trying to make me cry,’’ you ask, tears starting to form, ‘’That’s not fair.’’

‘’Get used to it. T’Challa is going to write the mushiest vows of all time, and he’s gonna be all like ‘’I love you sooo much, my love’.’’

‘’He really does,’’ Ramonda nods with a fond smile ,’’You Are simply taking the next step in your journey.’’

Yup. Here come the tears.

Not too much longer later, you find yourself in the foyer, and your parents are being escorted in by Kya and Okoye.

‘’Y/L/N,’’ your mother practically squeals, rising over to pull you into a hug as your dad does the same.

‘’Mom, dad,’’ you sigh, breathing in the scent of them, the scent of a home that you have not known for a while now.

‘’Sweetheart, we have missed you so much,’’ your mother sings, the presses a kiss to your forehead.

‘’I have missed both of you as well. Please, let me introduce you to everyone.’’

T’Challa steps forward then, extending his hand, shaking your parents’ hands one at a time ,’’Hello, it is nice to meet you. I am T’Challa.’’

‘’Well, we have heard a lot about you. Thank you for putting us up at that wonderful resort! It was so nice to get in and take a nap before arriving here. You are very generous,,’’ your mother practically gauges, ‘’Y/N is right, you are also very handsome!’’

‘’Mother!’’

‘’It is nice to finally meet you,’’ your dad says then, and Ramonda and Shuri Step forward as well, making their introductions.,’’ T’Challa loops your arm through his then, ‘’We’d better get going. Our guests have arrived.’’

The party is in full swing by the time you get three, people dancing, and eating and drinking while waiting for you and T’Challa to arrive.

You meet leaders of the other tribes, including M’Baku. T’Challa seems to have slightly mended his friendship with W’Kabi, but he still keeps his distance. Your parents get to know T’Challa and Shuri and Ramonda, and soon your mother is dancing with Shuri and Ramonda and your dad are having an animated conversation.

You love them and can not wait to spend the day tomorrow showing them your beautiful new home, but right now, you are exhausted.

Still, you smile through dinner, laugh with M’Baku and Shuri as they playfully tease T’Challa, dance with your parents and catch up on the happenings at home and arrange for them to fly back for the wedding.

It is not until after dinner, when you're considering convincing T’Challa to take you back to his room so you can watch movies together.

Okay, fine, and make out too.

That is when you see a familiar face, one you recognized on the news with T’Challa shortly after you moved here, but never really seemed to see again. Not in person t least. You’d spoken to her on the phone with T’Challa, as he said he wanted you to meet another important woman in his life. You’d video chatted a few times as well, but this is the first time. Of course she is here today. T’Challa had said that it was a possibility, but unlikely. That she was busy, hadn’t talked to him in months.

The one woman that T’Challa would gladly leave behind in his life if it meant that you would be happy and secure in your

And here she is- this graceful, brave, intelligent beauty that you have heard about before. One who you harbor no ill-will towards, anyone who seems rather indifferent to you as well.

Because the only thing that you have in common is the one that is standing in front of you right now, staring at you with heart eyes.

‘’My king,’’ the woman smiles genuinely, and you see T’Challa freeze before turning away to face her.

‘’Nakia… hi.’’

Disclaimer: These characters belong totheir respective owners. I own nothing in Marvel.

Note: I absolutely adore Nakia and she will not be painted in a negative light, but she will be used to force T’Challa and the reader to have a conversation that they have both been avoiding.

#black panther imagine #imagines #t'challa udaku #t'challa #shuri #shuri black panther #black panther #ramonda #nakia

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