#Pie contemplates revenge | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hlizr50 · 3 years ago

Text

In Darkness She is All I See

Cherry Pie: Part 3 - Feyre x Rhysand

The High Lord of the Night Court knows how important it is to support Lucien and Elain - and, thus, the Spring Court - as their first Calanmai is upon them. But that doesn't mean that he enjoys being in the manor where his mate had suffered so much. When Feyre encourages him to eat dessert first with her - a delectable cherry pie - he realizes that their evening is about to get a lot more interesting.

Complete with a final act of sweet revenge against an enemy long gone.

Warnings: NSFW, Light Bondage, its a literal smutfest and I don't think sex actually works like this, but it's fantasy so who cares ;)

READ ON AO3

Masterlist | Author: @hlizr50

This is part of the Cherry Pie: ACOTAR Kinktober Smut Extravaganza collection. Make sure to check out the rest of the collection and the other authors!

Part 0.5: Helion x Lady A by @spell-cleavers | Part 1: Elucien by @bookofmirth | Part 2: Jurian x Vassa by @separatist-apologist

The entire collection will be posted to AO3 and @tealnymph-writes by the end of the week

Rhysand kept a reassuring hand at the small of the High Lady’s back as they strode through the grand foyer of the manor where her life in Prythian had begun. Their footfalls echoed over the staircase and through the empty hall. Attending this gathering had been important to Feyre – a way to show her support for her sister and her friend – but the High Lord knew that stepping foot in this place would likely always come with some level of discomfort. Tamlin’s passing had ensured that there would be no chance for an awkward encounter or bitter exchange, but the house itself still put Rhys on edge. He pulled her closer to his side, hand sliding to rest on her hip even as he brushed a claw against her mental defenses.

Are you alright, darling?

Instead of answering she lifted her gaze to him with a small, but genuine, smile. His answering one was tight. It was no great joy for him to return to the Spring Court either, but he knew the importance of their alliance. Knew that his support of Elain and Lucien’s efforts here needed to remain relentless and visible. So here they were, and as they walked through the doors leading to the patio he couldn’t help but nod approvingly at restoration of the manor and it’s grounds.

“I wonder where everyone is?”

The High Lord refocused his attention upon the patio table, noting a singular tin of what appeared to be a cherry pie. A cherry pie that had already been tucked into by more than one person, a slice already sitting on a plate in delectable temptation. He chuckled to himself, noting the breach in etiquette and contemplating which of his inner circle was likely to blame. But his eyes caught Feyre, in a silver gown that hugged her so spectacularly – placing a slice of pie on another plate and picking both up. Turning to him, she smirked, nodding to the dishes in her hands.

“Life is short, Rhys. Eat dessert first,” she snickered softly. He pulled a fork from her hand and scooped up a bite of the dessert. Lifting it to her mouth, he grinned at her lips as they wrapped around the fork.

“Life is notshort, Feyre darling.” He dipped his chin and kissed the tip of her nose. “Must I remind you that you are no longer human?”

“It’s a figure of speech, you prick.” She rolled her eyes, a playful scowl coloring her beautiful features.

“A humanone,” he reminded her before taking a bite of pie for himself. She stuck her tongue out at him and his violet eyes narrowed at the blue that colored it. Odd, for a cherry pie. He paid close attention as he rolled the cherries around in his mouth, trying to taste anything out of place. And as his gaze returned to her questioning blue orbs, he grinned devilishly.

Red Iris powder.

Their evening was about to get… very interesting.

“Come, Feyre darling. Perhaps we should eat inside. I would hate for you to catch a chill.”

She raised a suspicious brow, and Rhys almost thought she wouldn’t follow. But then she strode past him, with all the grace and dignity of the High Lady she was, before tossing over her shoulder, “I know that look, Rhysand. I love you, but I know better than to trust you.”

With a chuckle he paced behind her. “You wound me, Feyre.”

“No, I just know you,” she countered. His smile grew feral as he watched her hips as she stepped back into the mansion. She did, indeed, know him. But she had no idea what was in store, even now, as the aphrodisiac began coursing through her. Maybe he should tell her, but that wouldn’t change anything. They had both consumed the powder, and soon they would both beconsumed. And he had the most delicious, dastardly ideas about what they would do.

“The pie is delicious, isn’t it?” the High Lord crooned, steering her toward the staircase. “Despite our long lives, I’m glad we still chose to eat dessert first.” Feyre lifted another fork-full of pie to him, and he relieved her of the second plate as they began to climb the dark wood of the stairs. As they reached the landing and started meandering down the hallway of what used to be her home, Rhys set the plate of untouched pie atop a cabinet.

They would not be needing it.

Feyre slowed down, fanning herself. “Is it getting hot in here?” she took a stuttered breath. “I… I think there was something in that pie.” Rhys smirked, steering her until her back was pushed against the wall.

“Ithink, darling,” he murmured, pressing his lips to that sensitive spot right below her ear, “that we should do something… naughty.” He felt her pulse quicken in her neck as the scent of her arousal wafted up to him.

“I’m listening,” she panted, hands tangling in his blue-black hair. His dark chuckle vibrated against her throat.

“I think that I want to fuck you in Tamlin’s chambers. And I don’t mean just a quick few thrusts just for the thrill of it.” His lips continued to drift over her neck before landing in the crook of her shoulder. He let his teeth graze her soft skin, reveling in how she shuddered and gasped. “I want to make you cum on every surface, in a multitude of ways and positions, so that the room is so coated in the scent of our arousal and the taste of our pleasure that even his spirit will never find peace.”

“Good Gods, Rhys, that’s horrible,” Feyre balked weakly. But he could feel her breasts heaving against his chest and smell the sweet, heady scent of her. Trailing his hand down, he caressed her jaw, collarbone, before cupping her breast, earning a wanton moan from her. “Have you no respect for the dead?”

“Your body doesn’t seem to think it’s such a bad idea, darling,” he crooned, squeezing the soft flesh in his grasp. He could feel his arousal pulsing, trousers growing tight. They needed to get to that room, and fast.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to. I just said you’re horrible.”

Rhysand pulled back to study her face and found eyes alight with mischief, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. He couldn’t hold back his growl as he reached for her thighs, pulling them up to circle his middle.

“I love you so fucking much,” he groaned and kissed her hard, lips and tongues tangling and battling. He pulled them away from the wall, cupping her ass to hold her to him as he made their way to the end of the hall. It was all he could do not to fucking run. He backed through the door into the expansive chambers, moonlight pooling on the floor.

Thank the Mother for that fucking pie.

Feyre stiffened in his arms, pushing against his shoulders. He looked into a withering stare and realized perhaps his statement had shouted down the bond they shared.

“There really was something in the pie!” she gasped. He gave her a weak grin as he turned to throw the both of them upon the mattress. “Not on the bed!” she cried out.

Rhys studied her, her parted swollen lips and flushed cheeks and steely gaze. He cursed himself for not thinking that she might not be comfortable in her ex-fiancé’s bed, that maybe she’d shared it with him. He slowly released his hold, letting her slide down to stand in front of him. Lifting a hand he cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb over her skin before dipping his chin to give a tender kiss.

“I never came to his room. But… I still don’t want to be in his bed,” she murmured, features soft and thoughtful. Then her expression hardened, and the look in her eyes was one of command and desire. “And if you want me so badly, there will be no sorcery – no dark mist or magic clothing removal. If you want me naked, you will peel this dress off me with your own two hands.”

“As you wish, High Lady.” Rhys let that feral grin return to his face as he scooped her up again, hungrily capturing her lips. He carried her to a desk and swept an arm across it, knocking paper and an inkwell to the floor. “I’m sure that wasn’t too terribly important,” he chuckled as he set his mate down upon it. Staring at her, he pushed the skirt of her gown up to reveal those entrancing, creamy thighs. He removed her slippers and then pressed a kiss to the bone of her ankle, trailing up the inside of her leg. When he was mere inches away from her center he pulled back and wrenched the dress over her head in a desperate pull, revealing her delectable lace underthings the color of the night sky over Velaris.

The High Lord stepped back, making no effort to hide the appreciative sweep of his gaze from her honey-haired head to the tips of those dainty toes. She was magnificent. Always. He licked his lips as he locked eyes with her.

“You’re such a lecher.” Feyre shook her head, but held his stare as she leaned back and let her thighs open to him. “I do recall that you wanted to make me cum on every surface in this room. I’m waiting.”

He was on her in an instant, dragging his lips from her mouth to her jaw to her neck as he slipped his hand beneath the lace of her panties, a carnal grin spreading against her throat.

“You’re so wet for me, darling. Already,” he cooed, his kisses reaching the dip between her collar bones. “So ready for me to wring every drop of pleasure out of you. So ready to cum so many times you won’t know which way is up.” He dipped a finger into her, moaning at the scorching heat he found there. Gods, she was dripping for him. He reached around with his free hand to unclasp the garment keeping her breasts from him, ripping it away with a swift tug. His mouth found a pert nipple as he plunged another finger into her.

“Rhys,” she hissed, and he felt her fingernails against his scalp. “Oh Gods.”

He sucked the peak between his teeth, letting them scratch against it as he pumped his fingers inside her. Her hips bucked against his hand as she released a sensual moan. She was so responsive, so wet, so fucking exquisite.

“Do you want to cum on my fingers, Feyre?” he growled as he switched to her other breast, letting his tongue circle the bud at its center. When her response was little more than a whimper he nipped at her. “Say it, darling. Tell me what you want.” He pressed the pad of his thumb down on that bundle of nerves at her center and she cried out.

“I-I… oh fuck,” she gasped as his teeth grazed her nipple and he flicked his thumb back and forth across her clit. “Rhys!”

“Tell me, Feyre,” he commanded, thrusting his fingers deeper.

“I want to cum on your fingers,” she managed to shout. “Fuck, Rhys, you’re such a bastard!”

“Such language,” he scolded darkly. “Hardly becoming for a woman of your station. Perhaps I should let you calm down.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she snarled. The High Lord quirked his lips in a teasing grin, his already hard cock somehow stiffening even more at the dark lust clouding her features. Her head fell back as she keened at the pressure he was building inside her, his fingers pistoning in and out of her soaking slit. Running his tongue up the column of her throat, he let her moans vibrate against his lips.

“Then cum for me, darling. I want to see the most powerful female in Prythian come undone by my hand. I want to feel your walls clench around my fingers as you scream my name in ecstasy.” His voice was velvet and steel, the sensual commands bringing her close to release. So he curled a finger inside her and pulled it back out as he rubbed her clit in circles.

“Oh, fuck, Rhys! Oh Gods!” she screeched, clenching and spasming around him. He could feel her thighs shaking as her orgasm ripped through her, an animalistic howl flying from her lips. He kept his fingers pumping, thumb pressed to the most sensitive part of her, pushing her release until her muscles were tense and trembling, only pulling out when he caught her as she almost fell backward into the wall. She was panting in his arms as he sucked his fingers into his mouth.

“You taste incredible,” he purred. He was so hard it was almost painful, and he was pleasantly surprised when her hands were pulling at his shirt.

“Why in the seven courts are you not fucking naked,” she grumbled. He laughed, letting her pull the garment over his head. She tossed it to the side and immediately put her fingers to work on his pants, hurried, impatient hands stroking against his rigid length and making him hiss.

“Quite needy, aren’t you?” His knees nearly buckled when she freed him, hands immediately wrapping around his thick shaft.

“You can thank that Cauldron-damned pie. Now get back over here. I need you inside me.” She tugged on him none-too-gently, a shock pulsing through his cock and up his spine. He hadn’t seen her like this since the frenzy, and he had a feeling that – even had he not had the powerful aphrodisiac roaring in his veins – he would still be greedy for her need and ready to sate her lust. And so he stepped to her, ripped those beautiful lace panties off her, and buried himself inside her in one long thrust. He almost came right there, unprepared for how her pussy gripped him. She was so warm, so wet, pulsing with desire. He stayed still, gritting his teeth to come away from the edge as Feyre wrapped her arms around his neck. After a few deep breaths he hooked his arms under her knees and lifted her, seating himself even deeper and drawing a yell from his mate.

“Your juices are already all over that desk, darling. I need to fuck you against something else.” Her muffled pants were his only response as he crossed the room and pushed her back against the wardrobe. “We have the whole bedroom and the bathing chamber to ruin, Feyre, and I don’t plan on stopping until we’ve coated every fucking square inch.” She leaned in to plunder his mouth, suckling and biting at his lower lip.

“Then stop talking about it and do it, High Lord,” she goaded.

Rhysand was unleashed. With a snarl he plunged into her, her shoulders colliding with the wood. From there his pace was hurried and hungry, his deep punishing thrusts driving moans and cries from his mate’s lips. It only made him harder, made him want to bury himself so deep inside her that her eyes crossed. He could hear the smacking of his skin against hers as he took her, rough and wild, savoring the vivid play of ecstasy in her eyes and across her face. She was exquisite when he ravaged her, that wicked mouth panting and groaning and making that lovely little ‘o’ shape when his thrusts stole her breath entirely.

“Is this how you like it, darling? Rough and hard and deep against the wall?” Rhys groaned, grazing his teeth against her neck. “I love the noises you make, Feyre. The ways that I can make you keen in pleasure when I’m deep inside you.”

“Gods, Rhys…” she breathed, fingernails clawing over his shoulders. He could feel her body responding, her walls beginning to tremor and tighten around him.

“Are you going to cum, Feyre?” He lifted his arms, still under her knees, forcing her wider for him to explore. Her breath caught and he grinned – a crooked, arrogant smirk – knowing that he’d found a depth that would push her over the edge. And with his next deep thrust she screamed, arms clinging to his neck as her orgasm tore through her, muscles tightening deliciously around his cock. But he continued pistoning into her, drawing out her release as he reveled in her desperate moans. The sounds were too much – music to his ears – and he buried himself deep inside his mate with a roar as he came. Chest heaving, his forehead fell into the crook of her neck. “Beautiful, darling. Fucking exquisite.”

Rhysand slid his length from her drenched slit and his arms out from under her legs, careful to hold her gingerly up against the wardrobe until her toes reached the floor. They still clung to each other, and his lips cocked smugly as he felt her knees buckle for a moment underneath her.

“Did I wreck you so thoroughly so soon?” he teased, a sensual rumble vibrating through his chest. He let his lips trace up the column of her neck, teeth nipping and tongue soothing. Pulling away slightly, he allowed himself to take in her flushed features. Her lips were stained red and swollen with lust, and those eyes seemed to pierce straight into him even as she snickered in response.

“You think mighty highly of yourself, High Lord. Nevermind that you nearly pulled my hips from their sockets.” Feyre grimaced, but she remained steady on her feet. He grinned at her, dipping his chin for a kiss that was much more innocent and chaste than his intentions.

“Perhaps you should spend some time with the Valkyries. Do some stretching. Increase your flexibility.”

“You’ve never complained about my flexibility before, you ass,” her retort was hot on her tongue. She slipped out of the High Lord’s grasp, but pulled at his hand to lead him to the bathing room. “Perhaps we should… wash up a bit?” His arched ears perked at the suggestion in her tone, sultry with promise. He followed obediently, violet eyes alight and teasing.

“Seems counterintuitive, darling, but I’ll oblige.” Her fingers tugged on his stubbornly as they passed through the archway. Pale silver moonlight set the porcelain of the deep bathtub aglow. There was a trellis of vines of emerald and amethyst amaryllis rising behind it, and he could imagine that the denizens of the Spring Court would find the floral scents and décor pleasing. It waslovely – Rhysand could appreciate the aesthetic – but he and his High Lady had an affinity for cleaner lines, saturated color. Stone and texture and refinement.

With a flourish of her hand the tub was full, steam floating up to lick against the leaves and petals climbing to the ceiling. The High Lord let his eyes roam, to appreciate the perfection of his mate. Her back was toned, a testament to her dedication to training even in the midst of her responsibilities. Feyre had never been weak or helpless, even as a child, but all it took was a passing glance at her to know that she was powerful and proud. The column of her spine was straight and regal, her chin always held high. She had committed herself to becoming strong from the very start of their relationship – to reach for her potential even as Tamlin had tried to squash it. The honey-haired fae before him hadn’t realized just how dangerous and cruel it was for her then-fiancé to insist that she keep her power hidden. She couldn’t have known that ignoring her magic would be pure torment, that it would roil and seethe and burn under her skin. But the High Lord of the Spring Court would have known, and Rhys would never forgive that he had still insisted that she not be taught even the most basic skills – to at least keep her safe from herself.

He didn’t give a fuck if he was dead. It still made him so angry. To know that his mate had been so close to binding herself to him. To know that he had been willing to let her do that. To know that he’d almost allowed her to crack and wither and die before his eyes.

“Rhys?” Feyre whispered. He blinked twice and followed her voice, finding her already in the tub. “Where did you go, my love?” Cheeks heating he shook his head, choosing instead to let his gaze drift hungrily from her eyes, to her lips, caressing down over her jaw and throat, and landing on the swells of her breasts as the water rippled gently just above her nipples.

“Well? Are you going to join me, or just stand there and leer at me?” His eyes darted back up to hers, feeling the challenge and lust charging the air between them. It was suddenly thick, heavy with desire and the first taste of arousal.

“I think I’ll choose the latter,” he answered, a wicked grin blooming. Her face flushed under the intensity of his gaze, and his cock jerked in satisfaction as her lids drooped. Gods, that powder might lead to some chafing if he was ready again so soon. “Touch yourself, darling.”

The rosy dusting drifted down her chest as her arousal and uncertainty warmed her. When her head tipped back to rest on the lip of the tub and she drew her bottom lip between her teeth, he groaned as his erection grew almost painfully hard. He was sure it jutted out obscenely in front of him, but his rapt attention was on the subtle twitch of her lips, the way her mouth formed soundless words as she gasped, her fingers hidden under the water’s surface.

“Rhys,” she hissed between shallow breaths.

“Yes, darling? How does it feel? Is that little clit sensitive? Make sure you’re rubbing it for me, love.” He palmed his rigid length and stroked lazily as her pants became moans and whimpers. “You’re so gorgeous like this, Feyre. Pleasuring yourself for me. Making those delicious sounds.”

“Fuck, Rhys-“

“Don’t you dare slide a finger in, Feyre. I’m the only thing that gets to be inside you, to wring out every drop of pleasure that you can manage,” he crooned, her frustrated mewl going straight to the rock hard length in his hand. The water splashed as her hips started to buck.

“Rhys, please,” she cried.

“Tell me what you want, darling. Let me hear that pretty mouth tell me all the dirty desires that are crowding your mind.”

“I’m so close, Rhys. Oh Gods,” her voice tremored in time with her taut body.

“Tell me, Feyre.” His tone was dark, the voice of the most powerful High Lord Prythian had ever seen.

“I need to cum, Rhys! I’m so close!” His High Lady writhed in the bath, riding that edge. “I need something inside me, Rhys. My fingers, your fingers, your cock, your tongue, I don’t fucking care. I need to cum.” Her breathing had become ragged and uneven.

“And what will you do, darling? If I help you cum?” The devilish words matched a predatory smirk as he stepped toward the tub.

“Godsdammit, Rhys!”

“I’m sorry, love. I’m afraid I didn’t hear an answer,” he purred, kneeling and leaning his forearms on the cool porcelain of the edge. It was like ice against the raging heat that pumped through his veins.

“Please, Rhys. I’ll do anything, I just need to get off,” she screeched. With a feral growl he pounced, practically leaping over the side to grab his mate. He pushed her chest against the vine-covered trellis and buried himself deep inside her, earning a pleasured scream.

“Don’t stop rubbing, Feyre. You’re already gripping my cock so hungrily, but I want more,” he groaned into her ear before scraping his teeth over the crook of her neck. His pace was relentless, punishing thrusts that took her over the edge in only a few moments. Her muscles spasmed, knuckles white as her free hand clutched the greenery, and he wrapped a strong arm around her to make sure she didn’t collapse. Clutching one of her breasts he continued pounding into her, the walls of her pussy clutching desperately as he pushed her orgasm to new heights. “Don’t stop, Feyre. Keep those lovely fingers on that sweet little clit until I spill inside you.”

He growled against her skin as she quaked in his grasp and wailed into the night. He wouldn’t last much longer inside her, the way every muscle in her body seemed to clench. With a roar he seated himself as far as he could go, feeling his release power through him. He pushed his free hand against hers at her core, pushing her fingers to the overstimulated bud until he had emptied inside her. He slid their hands up, so both of his arms were wound around her ribs. Her ragged breaths sawed against his chest as she hung, limp and boneless, in his arms. He lowered both of them back into the water, heated back to a soothing warmth by magic, cradling her to his chest. Her body still trembled, but she lifted a hand to cup his neck and placed a chaste kiss to his jaw before tucking herself back under her chin. They soaked for a few moments, his hand tracing up and down her spine as their hearts slowed.

“Are you alright, darling?” Rhysand whispered, pressing his lips to her damp hair. It had felt absurdly good, but he may have gotten carried away a bit. She nodded against him. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, Rhys,” she croaked with a soft snicker, pulling her head back to look at him. “You’re a devious bastard, though.”

An answering chuckle shook them. “Indeed. You can have your revenge when we get out of the tub.” Her tired eyes brightened in an instant.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, darling.” He kissed her temple. “Have your wicked way with me.” Before he could pull all the way back she gripped his nape and found his lips with her own, leaving a lingering, promising kiss. Then she rose, untangling herself from his arms and climbing out of the tub. He couldn’t hide the pout on his lips at the loss of her warmth, but his jaw went slack as she prowled gracefully – seductively – back toward the bedroom.

“Follow at your own risk, High Lord,” she called over her shoulder, the threat causing his skin to pebble and desire to coil low in his belly. Just how much powder had been in that damned pie? “Just remember, love. You asked for it.”

He took a few steadying breaths, trying to stifle the erection that was already threatening. When he got out of the tub, his gaze turned toward the archway. He couldn’t see his mate beyond it, and that sent a thrill through him. She was planning something – with any luck something devious and orgasm-inducing. When he’d crossed the threshold he found her standing before the large canopy bed, two short tasseled ropes in her hands. His glance caught on the window, noticing that the curtains were no longer pulled back.

“Curtain ties, Feyre?” He smirked, features darkening with lust. “Kinky.”

His High Lady lifted her chin, a picture of regal power and pride. One hand lifted and beckoned him with a single curling finger, his feet and his hardening cock all too happy to oblige. He studied her as he strode across the room, smug male pride filling him as her gaze dipped over him before returning to his face with an arched brow.

“Ready again so soon, High Lord?” she purred with a voice of pure, sun-warmed silk. The smooth velvet tone wrapped around his length and he felt himself twitch in anticipation. And she hadn’t even fucking touched him yet.

“Believe me, darling, if you’d have seen me looking at you the way I just saw you looking at me, you’d be positively dripping.”

Feyre laughed as he stopped, toes nearly touching. “Hands,” she commanded, and he lifted his arms between them. A guttural moan caught in his throat as she wrapped the silken ropes around his wrists with one of the ties, followed by a heavy-lidded exhale when she turned them so his calves brushed the mattress and lifted his arms over his head and looped the second over the narrow beam between the bedposts.

“Now,” she murmured, trailing a finger down his forearm, over a bicep and shoulder, then up the column of his neck before caressing his jaw and pressing that finger to his lips. “I’m going to play with you, love. And you don’t get to touch.” Rhys nipped at her fingertip, drawing a sensual giggle from her.

“You know I could snap this beam in half, Feyre.” His words were teasing, testing her.

“Then you’ll just have to be good for me, High Lord.” His mate grasped his cock, stroking from base to tip. “Do you think you can do that?”

His throat bobbed as his eyes rolled back. “Yes, my lady.”

“I thought so,” she cooed with a pat to his cheek, her other hand still wrapped around his shaft. The High Lady rose on her toes to press a slow kiss to his lips with an innocence so in contrast to the situation they were currently in. She trailed those kisses over the corner of his mouth before moving to his jaw, nipping and licking gently as she loosened her grip on him. Instead she just let her fingers brush against his rigid shaft, his breath hitching with each cruel tease.

A growl rumbled in his chest when he felt her tongue on the column of his throat, her laugh vibrating through her lips in response. “What’s wrong, darling? Is it frustrating? Being denied your pleasure?” Feyre dipped her tongue into the hollow between his collar bones.

“You are a devious little thing,” he panted as she continued her torturously slow exploration of his body with her mouth, her fingertips and fingernails only grazing his throbbing cock. Gods, it was torment, but sensual and sweet.

“Oh, my sweet love. I’m only getting started.”

Her lips. Her tongue. Her teeth. They set his skin on fire, the powder in his bloodstream roaring to the surface. Her lazy, open-mouthed kisses and nips meandered down over his chest, until he felt her teeth scrape against his nipple as her hand gave his cock a quick jerk.

“Holy fuck!” Rhys shouted, even as her warm tongue soothed the pebbled peak. Her hand stayed wrapped around him, stroking with diabolical patience. A pained groan rumbled up his throat as she wrapped her lips around his other nipple, suckling him and rolling her tongue over it. She pulled away, his flesh escaping her lips with a ‘pop’, and lifted a corner of her mouth in predatory satisfaction.

“You look so beautiful like this, Rhysand. Trussed up for me. Helpless to me.” Her voice sent a tremor down his spine as she echoed his taunting words from earlier. He didn’t think his cock could get any harder, but she was doing her best to find a way to make it happen. “The things I could do to you, love.”

“Gods-fucking-dammit, Feyre, put me out of my fucking misery.” The words that fell from his lips didn’t sound like him. They were desperate and guttural, a demand when he was in no position to make one. She stopped stroking him, pulling her hand away, and he let out a frustrated snarl. The High Lady clicked her tongue.

“Impatient. So unbecoming for a High Lord.” Feyre kissed him again. “Eyes on me.”

Rhys fixed his gaze on hers, not daring to look away. She slid down his body, the oozing tip of his erection brushing against her stomach and breasts as she let her tongue dart out between his sculpted abs. He had never seen something so erotic.

And then she was on her knees, running her elegant fingers up his thighs and flashing him a bright smile that rivaled the moonlight. Their gazes remained locked as she flicked the tip of her tongue over the head of his shaft, and her eyes lit up when he moaned. And then he was sheathed in heat and wetness, and he thought he might explode right there. She dragged her mouth back up his length slowly, reveling in his taut frustration. After a few more languid, unhurried strokes of her mouth, she bobbed her head onto him, setting his nerves aflame.

“Feyre,” he rasped, teetering on the edge. But she pulled him out of her mouth, letting the cool night air dance across the sensitive length of him.

“You don’t get to cum yet, High Lord. You have to earn it.” She rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around his neck. She stepped a foot on the mattress behind him and pulled herself up against his bare front, wiggling her hips until he felt her slit poised upon him. Her lips found the shell of his ear. “I’m going to fuck myself on your cock, Rhys. And you may cum only after I do.”

His mate sunk onto him, sheathing him to the hilt. Gods, she was so hot and wet for him – he was so deep inside her. And the High Lord had no idea how he was going to last more than a few moments. But her breathing grew ragged so quickly as she used her arms and hips to lift herself and then slam back down onto him, her arousal dripping out of her and down his legs.

“You feel so fucking good, Feyre,” he hissed as his pants became whimpers, then moans, then shouts. He thrust his hips in time with hers, plunging deep into her over and over. Without warning her pussy gripped him, tighter than a vice, as she screamed his name. And it was with that satisfaction and the sound of his name on her lips as she screamed her release that sent him toppling over the edge, his own orgasm spilling into her. She clung to him, face buried in his shoulder and breasts heaving against his chest. “Darling,” he whispered, her head lifting at his beckoning. “You are incredible.” He had to tilt up his chin for his lips to brush over her brow, but she hummed contentedly.

The Red Iris Powder still hummed within him, but the edge was dulling. His mate slipped off of him and made to reach up toward the ropes, but he simply tugged and snapped the wooden rail. As Rhys untangled the bindings, he couldn’t help but think about having Feyre bound and at his mercy just as he’d been. And he groaned as he felt himself begin to harden yet again.

“Fuck.”

“Rhys,” the High Lady sucked in a breath before huffing a disbelieving laugh. “This aphrodisiac might actually end me.”

“Chafing a bit, darling?” Rhys drawled, chuckling. Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her to a small sitting area that was home to two well-worn armchairs. “One more round? You can’t expect me to have these curtain ties at my disposal and not take the opportunity to use them.” The High Lord set her gently in one of the chairs as she rolled her eyes. But he could smell the warm heat of heightened arousal from her, as well. He stepped away and beckoned for her hands, binding her wrists together like his had been. Then he lowered to his knees before her and hooked each leg over an armrest, splaying her open for him.

“I suppose, if the pie was dessert, then I’m ready for a midnight snack.” Rhys licked his lips in anticipation, craving the opportunity to taste her. Leaning in, he licked a long, intentional stroke from the bottom of her slit all the way up until the tip of his tongue flicked over her clit. It had to be sensitive, and she jerked at the contact. “Delicious,” he murmured, and then he dove in with near-reckless abandon. He suckled on that bundle of nerves and let his teeth scrape against it, his arms having to hold her thighs tightly as her hips bucked to escape his attention. His tongue dipped into her, lapping at her juices and the remnants of his own release – an erotic, consuming nectar.

Returning his attention to her clit, he brought a hand to her opening and slid two fingers in as he sucked her in. Her walls clenched around his fingers and he hummed in amusement, sending vibrations straight into her core. He felt her fingers weaving through his tousled hair, her bound wrists doing little to hinder her at his point. A situation he would remedy shortly. He worked his tongue around her sensitive bud and plunged his fingers in and out of her, the sounds of her moans and pleas wafting to his ears like a night breeze. He loved having her boneless and needy in his hands, loved drawing out her pleasure. Inserting a third finger, he nipped his teeth on her clit. With a wail she clenched around him, and his mouth grinned wickedly as the explosion of her release escaped upon his fingers and splashed into his mouth. He continued to piston his fingers, helping her ride out her orgasm until there was nothing left to give. He stood, then, his cock jutting out in front of him. Feyre looked up at him, panting, eyes shadowed and lidded.

“Fuck me, Rhys,” she breathed, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “I want you to cum inside me.” He pulled her up for a moment so he could sit, then pulled her back down onto his length with her back to him. Her pussy gripped him so deliciously, as if she wanted to massage his length from base to tip. He fondled her breasts from behind, hugging her back to his front. Reaching down, he spread her legs so that her knees were hooked on the outside of his own. Then he trailed his fingers up her stomach, over a breast, and then took her bound wrists and hooked them behind his neck, her elbows up in the air. Grasping her hips, he lifted her slightly before thrusting up as he slammed her down. Her throat released a ravaged moan as he buried himself inside her.

The High Lord set a slow, deliberate, punishing pace, his mate liquid and whimpering atop him. As he pushed himself into her, he reached up and rolled a nipple between his fingers. Feyre cried out at the sudden pinch of pain and overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so deep,” she moaned breathily. He grinned, letting his teeth graze the shell of her ear.

“Do you want to cum like this, Feyre? With my cock buried so deep inside you?” He increased his pace and she met him thrust for thrust. And it was so fucking incredible.

“Yessssss, Rhys. Please,” she whimpered, her wrists pulling at him and keeping her body taut. He reached down between her obscenely splayed thighs and rubbed a finger over her clit, drawing a sharp cry from her lips. His thrusts became wild and disjointed as he circled the sensitive bud, her pussy spasming around him as they drew closer and closer to the precipice.

“Cum for me, darling. Let go. Take your pleasure from my cock and my fingers,” he whispered sensually, teeth nipping at her earlobe. Her hips jerked and bucked as he rammed into her over and over and increased the pressure of his fingers on her center. He could feel it, the climax roaring up for them both. A feral scream erupted from his mate as he plunged into her, the stimulation finally too much.

His fingers were relentless on her, determined to draw another orgasm from her sensitive core. Her muscles convulsed around his cock as he kept grinding their hips together, and he gritted his teeth against the release that was building like a tidal wave.

“Rhys! Oh Gods, Rhys!” his mate screamed desperately, muscles twitching as her body writhed and wriggled to escape his ruthless focus. He roared as he released into her, cursing at the power of the orgasm he could no longer hold back. She fell over the edge mere seconds later, and he moved his hand from her swollen, sensitive clit to splay against her stomach. He held her as they both floated down from the heavens, chests heaving and muscles loosening. Rhys pulled her wrists from behind his neck and swiftly untied the binding. He lifted her off of him and clutched her to his chest.

“Come, darling. We need to find a place to rest.” Pressing his lips to her hair, he stood and strode – quickly and silently – out of Tamlin’s chambers and through the door across the hall. He carried her to the bed and laid her down gently, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of honey-blonde silk behind her arched ear. “I’m going to get our clothes and something to clean you up with, Feyre. I’ll be right back.”

Exhaustion fell over him like a blanket, sudden and heavy and warm. He scooped up his pants and her dress, choosing to abandon anything else in favor of finding a cloth to soak with warm water and take with him across the hall. He closed the door once he stepped into the room, turning the lock and tossing their clothing over a chair. When he reached the bed, he found his mate a mere breath from sleep.

“Darling, I need you to stay awake a little bit longer. Just let me get you cleaned up, alright?” he murmured lovingly as he lifted one of her legs and pressed the warm cloth gingerly against her tender flesh. He didn’t do much else, knowing how close she was to sleep. So after taking care of her most intimate areas he tossed the cloth to the floor and crawled over her into the bed. He wound an arm around her, pulling her flush against him.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight,” he crooned, kissing her hair and stroking his thumb absentmindedly over her stomach, feeling her muscles tighten as she giggled.

“Far too much. As soon as I can walk again, I’m going to kill whoever brought that pie.” His mate’s voice was soft and heavy with sleep, but he grinned that she could still be so feisty after the night they’d had. As soon as the thought passed, he felt her droop in his arms, breathing regular and deep. Rhys exhaled a contented sigh, ready to follow his mate into a deep sleep, his last thought being whether he should warn Helion of his mate’s impending wrath or let the chips fall where they may.

#kinktober #cherry pie collection #feysand #smut #smutfest #fanfic #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #acotar #acotar fic #where's the holy water #about to be struck by lightning #unique uses for curtain ties

227 notes · View notes

bang-tan-bitches · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Beloved

Word Count: 17.4k

Rating: M

Genre: Drama/Thriller/Smut

Warnings: Yandere Behavior, Violence, Blood, Character Death, Emotional Manipulation, Hint of Dubious Consent, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Cream Pie, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Mild Dirty Talk

Pairing: Emperor!Yoongi X Reader

Summary: Court was just a game of politics after all. And you intended to win

Written By: Admin B

Note: This was entirely inspired by Daechwita and everyone should thank A for indulging my madness and encouraging me

“Are you even listening to me?”

You jerk at the sound of your younger sister’s voice, the long carriage ride has made you sleepy. You glance over at her and give her an indulgent smile, “I’m sorry, darling. I can only listen to you wax poetic about his Imperial Highness’ esteemed looks for so long before I lose interest.”

You can’t help but laugh when Ara snaps her fan closed and tries to hit you with it, but you block it with your own fan.

“Stop or you’ll wrinkle your dress!” You giggle, “Then what will his majesty think of you?!”

She sits back in her seat, but you can see her eyes are shining with laughter. She looks positively breathtaking in her pale pink ceremonial dress. Her hair is beautifully styled with pearls and ribbons laced throughout. Her maids really made her as eye catching as possible. When the decree was first announced that all single ladies of marriageable age were invited to the palace on behalf of the imperial princess to find a bride for his majesty, you were concerned. You know Ara had fallen hopelessly in love with the emperor the one and only time she saw him, having begged father to take her to court with him two years prior. Ever since then she had this fairy tale dream in her head that they were meant to be together and you were terribly afraid of her getting hurt.

“He really is beautiful,” her eyes are dreamy as she glances out the carriage window, “did I tell you how his hair is so pale that it practically shines like moonlight?”

“Yes, yes,” the sarcasm clear in your voice, “He is the most handsome and benevolent ruler our land has ever seen!”

“He is,” you sister insists, “even with the scar!”

“He has a scar? I thought that was just a rumor.” You look out the carriage window to see how far you are from the palace. The ride seemed longer than usual, but that could have just been your boredom with the topic. You had no interest in politics - not that that had stopped your father from teaching you - and avoided going to court as much as possible. You had never even been in the presence of the emperor or the imperial princess. Ara had no interest in politics either, but that didn’t stop her dreams of becoming Empress.

“Oh! It’s not a rumor!” Your sister straightens her posture, “There’s a scar that covers his right eye! He got it during the great war when he was still the crown prince.”

“Why didn’t he -”

“Why didn’t he have the Imperial healers treat him and remove the scar?” Your sister cuts you off before you can finish your question, “He wanted a reminder to never show leniency. He was betrayed by some of his own men that weren’t loyal to the crown. He slaughtered not only the betrayers, but also their entire families.”

You furrow your brows and fix the long sleeves of your ceremonial dress, uncomfortable with the emperor’s apparent brutality, “Sounds cruel.”

“It’s not cruel. He had to ensure that no one would try to get revenge. He was protecting our kingdom from those that would try to take it!”

“Of course, of course,” you placate your sister and roll your eyes at her fervent defense of his highness.

“Don’t roll your eyes, I’m terribly sorry everyone can’t be as noble as your dear Namjoon.”

You frown, “First of all, he is Lord Kim and he deserves your respect. Secondly, he isn’t my dear anything. Nothing has been finalized. There has only been talk of marriage, but no contracts are in place.”

Ara scoffs, “Everyone knows he absolutely adores you. His eyes get all big and his cheeks turn bright pink whenever he sees you.”

You smile wistfully and look down at your lap, “He is rather adorable.”

“Mmmhmm and if it was up to him you would already be married and probably with child.”

“Ara, it is impolite to discuss such things.” You scold gently, “What if someone overheard you?”

“Who?” Ara dramatically looks around the carriage before resting back against her seat, “Who can possibly hear us? There is only me and you in this carriage. No one is going to hear us.”

“Still, you need to be appropriate, you cannot slip up at the palace.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, Ara with closed eyes gently fanning herself while you contemplate how to bring up what’s been weighing heavily on your mind. Your younger sister was spoiled and had always gotten her way, even you were guilty of indulging her every whim. You were terribly worried that she would not adjust to court life well. Your understanding was that the women could be even more vicious than the men and you needed to prepare her.

You chew your lip before deciding to broach the delicate topic, “I heard another rumor about your emperor.”

“Mmm… what’s that?” Ara opens one eye to look at you.

“I heard,” you lean forward and lower your voice, “that his harem is… extensive.”

Ara pouts adorably, “It is. Apparently he has over 300 concubines.”

“300? That has to be an exaggeration. No man would want 300 concubines. Although,” you continue quietly, “he is the emperor and a large harem would show off his wealth and power. Does he have a favorite among them?”

“Ugh,” you watch Ara’s eyes darken in anger, “Concubine Nam In-Suk. She is his favored concubine and I heard the only reason she wasn’t named his empress is because Imperial Princess Min would not allow it.”

“Why would the emperor care what his elder sister thinks?” You already know the answers to all these questions, but you hope that asking them will help Ara realize what she needs to do to secure her place as empress. The carriage starts to slow, you were almost to the palace and wouldn’t have much time alone to prepare her going forward and no time alone once you’d arrived.

“She is his advisor and closest confidant. He trusts her with everything.”

“Ara,” you grab your sister’s hand and give her a meaningful look, “It is very important that you gain the favor of Imperial Princess Min. If you have her blessing, you will not be denied. Most of the silly girls will be striving for Emperor Min’s attention, not realizing that the imperial princess is making the final choice.”

Ara nods her head, determined. “I will gain her favor.”

“Also,” you know she will hate what you are about to suggest, but it has to be done, “You need to become friendly with Concubine Nam.”

“Never!” Ara gasps and tries to pull away, “As soon as I’m chosen as empress I will make him disband his harem!”

“Ara, you cannot!” You lean close and let the severity of your demand bleed into your tone, “You must become friendly and show you are not a threat.”

“But I am a threat…” she pushes her lip out in a pout.

You squeeze her hand, “I know, darling. But court politics are not that different from bedroom politics. He will not get rid of his harem just because you demand it. If Concubine Nam thinks she can manipulate and play you, she will be less of a threat. She has his ear and his favor. Let them think you are stupid little girl with stars in her eyes. It will bend them to your will.”

“But,” Ara’s voice is quiet, “I want him to love only me.”

“Oh my beloved Ara,” you hold her close to you, “these things take time. Once you bed him and provide an heir, you will secure your place at his side. He will have to love and cherish only you. How could he not?”

Her smile is blinding when the carriage stops outside the palace gates.

-0-0-0-

“Relax,” you whisper, “you are the most beautiful lady here. You have nothing to fear.”

Ara releases her bottom lip and nods subtly. When you had arrived at the palace earlier that day, you were welcomed inside to a large hall filled with other single young ladies and their chaperones, all from the most prominent families in the kingdom. Imperial Princess Min herself greeted everyone and announced that a welcome banquet would be held that evening. You were then ushered to your rooms where you could refresh yourselves before the evening. The Daisy Courtyard would serve as your temporary home for the next few weeks. It was a smaller courtyard, but it was beautiful and secluded and you were thankful to learn that it was nowhere near the concubine courtyard.

It was almost impossible to remember how quiet the courtyard was now.

Now, in the palace banquet room awaiting the arrival of the emperor for what felt like hours with the crowd growing more restless by the minute, you dearly missed the seclusion. Imperial Princess Min was present, drinking wine and enjoying the performance of the dancers brought in for entertainment. If she was upset with the late arrival of her brother, her face did not show it.

The music abruptly stops and everyone quiets down. The large golden doors at the back of the room are opened and an imperial servant steps in, placing their fisted hand over their heart, they bow and announce, “His Royal Highness, Emperor Min Yoongi, 37th Emperor of the Min Dynasty.”

Everyone immediately bows, giving reverence to the Emperor. He is dressed in the darkest black with gold dangling from his ears, neck, and fingers. His blond hair is pulled up into a high topknot and a black headband is across his forehead.

You notice a beautiful woman trailing a few steps behind him. She is covered in diamonds. They glitter from her shiny black hair down to the long train of her bright purple ceremonial dress. The dress itself is decorated in patterns of golden tigers, matching the pattern of the emperor’s black robe.

By the clenching of Ara’s hands, you realize that this must be Concubine Nam. You discreetly nudge your sister and mouth for her to relax.

The emperor takes his seat on his golden dragon throne, while his favored concubine sits obediently at his feet. His presence is overpowering and you can feel his displeasure radiating throughout the room.

“So… I was told that one of you will be this emperor’s bride and empress consort.” Emperor Min’s voice is deep and controlled, but the underlying fury is unmistakable. You can feel his eyes trail over the room, “Do you really think that one of you will enrapture this emperor? Do you truly believe one of you will become my chosen?”

Everyone is deathly silent, afraid of angering his highness even more. You can feel his penetrating gaze stop on you. You did not dare look upon the face of the emperor. You knew the rules of the court. You keep your eyes lowered and wait for his eyes to move past you.

They don’t.

You can still feel him staring at you and after several silent minutes you hesitantly look up and meet his eyes. You feel your breath catch in your throat. He is startlingly beautiful. His features are delicate but his scar provides him a hint of roguishness that accentuates his already extraordinary beauty.

His gaze is intense and you can feel his angry aura disappear to something unreadable. His dark eyes are burning with something as a devilishly handsome smile spreads across his face.

You quickly lower your eyes and ignore the chill down your spine and the heat spreading across your face. You now understand how your sister could be so enraptured with one look.

The emperor laughs, startling you into looking again. He’s staring at his sister and smiling. You can see Concubine Nam’s face screwed up, but staring at the floor. You look away quickly before he can feel your stare. His voice is filled with warmth and something else, something unsettling, “Maybe this emperor will finally meet his bride amongst the ladies here today. Rise and enjoy the welcome feast.”

Immediately servants present platters of food to the various tables and the music starts again. You ignore the burning gaze you feel on you and direct your attention to Ara.

“Make sure you eat. You have to be strong if you plan to carry the next heir of the kingdom.” You add more food to her plate.

“Yes, yes,” Ara giggles and pushes your hand away, “I could feel him staring in our direction. Did you feel it too?”

You force a smile, “Of course. How could he not stare at you. I told you that you were the most beautiful lady here.”

When it’s your turn to introduce yourselves to the royal family, you make sure to keep your head low and only make eye contact with Imperial Princess Min once you’re allowed to rise. Next to you, your sister does the same, following your example, even as you feel the hot eyes of the emperor on you once again. Ara pays a pretty compliment to the Princess, and you smile proudly when the Princess laughs delightedly and asks for your names.

“Oh, I remember you. And your father.” Princess Min says, a delicate finger resting on her bottom lip. She shares a look with her brother and you can feel the hateful eyes of Concubine Nam on you and your sister. You ignore her. You needed Ara to win over Princess Min before she won the hearts of anyone else. “I look forward to getting to know you once again. Both of you.”

You smile, and bow again before moving on to let the others greet the royal family.

Ignoring the heavy weight of Emperor Min’s gaze, you try to keep your sister distracted and engaged during the remainder of the banquet. For every goblet of wine your sister has, you make sure she also has a goblet of water. You don’t want her embarrassing herself in front of the other eligible ladies. You relax once the emperor’s gaze is no longer focused on you and take the chance to glance towards the throne, noticing the emperor in a deep discussion with his sister. The imperial princess has a strange smile on her face and is nodding her head along to whatever his highness is saying. You also notice that Concubine Nam is nowhere to be seen.

“Where did Concubine Nam go?”

“What?” Ara quickly looks around the large hall, her voice tinged with excitement, “Concubine Nam? His highness must have sent her away.”

"Strange..” you take a delicate bite of the fresh dumplings brought out by the servants, smiling a bit at how excited Ara is to find her possible rival missing, “I thought she never left his side.”

“Well…” Ara is interrupted by the arrival of an imperial maid. The maid bows her head respectively and holds a silver tray with a folded golden parchment.

You grab the parchment and slowly open it, quickly read the contents, fold it and place it back on the tray. “Please tell your mistress we accept.”

The maid bows and scurries away. You watch her go and keep a calm mask on your face, even as your heart is racing. You knew the point of these banquets and festivities was to find the Emperor a bride, but to receive an invitation so quickly… You notice many of the young ladies in attendance are watching and you refuse to show any sort of emotion.

Court was just a game of politics after all. And you intended to win. For Ara.

Ara grabs your hand under the table where no one can see, “What was that about?”

“Ara, did you bring that pretty pale green dress that grandfather gifted you for your birthday last year?” You take a sip of your wine, and keep your tone low.

“Of course.” Ara nods her head and grabs some fruit slices from one of the platters on the table, but by the tenseness of her shoulders, you could feel her excitement. You would have to instruct her on how to hide it better.

“Good. Wear it tomorrow.” You squeeze her hand, “we are invited to the morning meal with Imperial Princess Min.”

-0-0-0-

Imperial Princess Min’s courtyard and private rooms are absolutely gorgeous. Everything is draped in golds and pastels and smells of the fresh flowers that are placed throughout her rooms. The three of you sit at a finely crafted table in her pavilion, the only sounds are the bubbling of the large fountain nearby and the tinkling of the platters of food as they are placed upon the table before you.

“Thank you for joining me this beautiful morning.” Princess Min smiles sweetly at you both, once you rise from your bow, gesturing for a maid to pour tea, “I do hope you enjoy the meal.”

“We are honored to be invited by her majesty for a meal. Thank you.” You bow your head reverently and sit in the chair the maid has pulled out.

“Yes, thank you, your highness.” Your sister follows suit. The plates are quickly set with delicious smelling food, but you can only sip your tea, taking your cue from the princess who has barely glanced at her plate.

“Tell me,” Princess Min takes a dainty sip of tea, “Are you enjoying your time at the palace?”

“It is very beautiful here. We are forever indebted to the emperor and the imperial princess for allowing us to visit.” You keep your voice soft and your sister nods along, her cheeks slightly puffed with the food she has in her mouth.

“And your rooms…” Princess Min continues, directing a maid to put some kimchi on her plate, “are they to your liking?”

“Yes your majesty. The Daisy courtyard is beautiful. Thank you for gracing us with such lovely lodgings.”

The princess inclines her head briefly and smiles, “What do you think of the emperor?”

“Oh, he is wonderful. The best ruler our empire has ever seen.” Ara gushes enthusiastically, “May our emperor live ten thousand years!”

You and Princess Min share a small smile, both seeing that Ara is completely infatuated with his highness. You take a small bite of the delicious food on your plate as Ara continues to praise the emperor.

“And you?” Princess Min interrupts your sister and turns her gaze on you. Her dark eyes are so similar to her brother that it catches you off guard for a moment, “What do you think of the emperor?”

You didn’t understand why but you feel like your answer holds more weight than your sister’s. You lick your suddenly dry lips, smile demurely at the imperial princess and respond as blandly but nicely as possible, “His highness is a most generous and benevolent king.”

“That he is.” Princess Min smiles and glances at your sister, “And what are your thoughts on his harem?”

Your sister is quiet for a moment and you can see her struggling with finding what she wants to say, you gracefully answer for her, “I’m sure my sister would be most grateful to have others help serve the emperor.”

“Yes!” Ara nods eagerly, “I am most grateful that the emperor has many to keep him company.”

Princess Min hides a giggle behind her hand and you tilt your head, curious what could make the Princess giggle like that.

“Indeed. You may be grateful for the… help.”

Your eyes widen but Ara continues to look confused. You share a look with the Princess before she continues, “My brother, the Emperor, has a… healthy appetite.”

As if summoned by your discussion of him, your meal is interrupted by the arrival of a servant stepping into the pavilion, “His Royal Highness, Emperor Min Yoongi, 37th Emperor of the Min Dynasty.”

You and Ara quickly place down your chopsticks and stand from your seats to bow properly.

“You may rise.” The emperor’s voice is deeper than you remember. He is dressed in an informal black robe patterned with crimson lotus flowers. Thick golden necklaces rest against his collarbones and his pale hair is pulled up into another topknot. You notice that his long, golden earrings aren’t as extravagant as the ones he wore the night before. You and Ara quickly return to your seats.

“Here is my darling sister.” The Emperor gently kisses Princess Min’s cheek before sitting in the empty chair that is placed directly across from you by a servant. “I hope you do not mind if I join you three for the morning meal.”

“Imperial Brother I can see right through you.” Princess Min giggles, “You just want to look at my pretty company.”

You feel your breath hitch when the emperor locks eyes with you, a dangerous smile pulling at his full lips, “Can you blame me? I cannot remember the last time I’ve been so enchanted.”

Princess Min smiles and glances between you and your sister, “The sisters are true beauties.”

“Indeed,” The emperor's eyes flicker to your sister before focusing back on you, “It’s refreshing to know that a father did not exaggerate his claims of his daughters’ virtues.”

"Our beauty does not dare compare to the Imperial Princess." Your sister answers perfectly, the flattery clear in her voice. You see the smile spread across Princess Min’s face, clearly pleased with Ara’s answer.

Princess Min and Ara chatter for a while, the emperor occasionally joining the conversation, but his burning gaze never leaves your face. If anyone else notices his attention on you, they dare not mention it. You stay quiet, trying not to draw any attention away from Ara. You are proud of your sister, she is so poised as she engages in conversation with the royals. You were worried she would freeze up, or even worse, prattle on incessantly about nothing. You motion for a servant to refill your teacup and are startled when the emperor waives the servant away, refilling your cup himself. “Please, allow me.”

Everything stops around you at his actions, even the servants seem to freeze in place. You glance at your sister and the imperial princess, both completely in shock at the emperor’s generosity. Although you notice the imperial princess has a look of unbridled delight in her dark eyes.

“Thank you, your grace.” You incline your head and keep your face impassive. Only years of training drilled into you by your tutors prepared you for this. A lady must always be composed and even though you feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest, you keep calm. You have no idea why his eminence would pour your tea as if he was your servant, but did not dare question his actions.

The silence lasts longer than is socially acceptable and when you dare to look at him, the emperor’s eyes are already focused on you. You can feel Ara’s eyes darting between the two of you, but you can only focus on the emperor. He opens his mouth to say something when your meal is interrupted by several maids rushing into the room. His eyes release you from your trance as he looks away.

You tell yourself that you’re grateful for the interruption.

“Your highness!!!” They all drop to their knees once they see the emperor, their heads touching the ground, “Your highness you must hurry. Concubine Nam has collapsed!”

You glance at the maids in alarm and look back at the emperor, his brows furrowed, “Have the imperial healers been summoned?”

“Of course, your highness.” The head maid answers, rising from her bow. You realize that they must have been the personal maids of Concubine Nam. The other maids remain on their knees, foreheads pressed to the ground.

The emperor turns away from the maids and takes a sip of his tea, dismissing them without words. You watch the head maid bite her lip before taking a step forward, “Please your highness, she is calling for you.”

You can see the displeasure on the emperor’s face. His eyes are angry, but the anger fades when he looks at you. He stares at you for a moment as if he’s waiting for your approval. You swallow and glance at the maids before meeting his gaze, “Your highness, please forgive this lowly maiden for speaking out of turn, but your beloved needs you. You should be at her side.”

“My beloved?” His voice is filled with mirth, and you wonder what is so humorous.

“Yes, your majesty.” You continue, licking your lips. His eyes follow your tongue. “Everyone knows she is your favored concubine. She needs you. You must attend to her.”

“You’re right.” His smile disarms you, again causing your breath to catch. “I must do what my beloved asks of me.”

With a swirl of his black robes, he is gone. The maids and his personal servants trailing behind him.

The silence left by the emperor’s abrupt departure is broken by the tired sigh of the Imperial Princess. “I apologize for Imperial Brother.”

“No, no,” you immediately respond, seeing a forlorn expression on the princess’ face, “It’s alright. Concubine Nam needs him. I do hope she is alright.”

“Yes, hopefully it is nothing serious.” Your sister cannot hide the distaste in her voice at the mention of the concubine.

“Oh, it’s nothing serious.” The princess laughs scornfully, “Concubine Nam always pulls some sort of devious trick whenever she thinks my brother’s attention might be taken away from her.”

You glance in the direction the emperor disappeared, “Does she?”

“Yes. It’s pathetic.”

You choke back a giggle when the princess rolls her eyes and instantly feel yourself relax.

“She thinks she has my brother wrapped around her finger. Always throwing a tantrum or faking some sort of illness.” She sneers and shakes her head, looking at you as if confiding something, “Several months ago, when I first spoke to my brother about finding a potential bride, I thought for sure that she would do something then, but it looks like the little bitch was just biding her time.”

“That is terrible.” If Ara is shocked at the vulgar language used by the princess, her face doesn’t show it. She is calm and poised and while you know she has a million questions she wants to ask, she is keeping her composure until the two of you are alone in your courtyard. “Hopefully his highness sees through her tricks.”

“She’s not half as clever as she thinks she is. He knows exactly what she is doing, but he indulges her.”

“I’m sure his majesty has his reasons,” you smile at the princess, “have faith in your brother.”

Princess Min stares at you, a contemplative look on her face. You don’t know what she is looking for, but after a few quiet moments she smiles beautifully, “Yes. Of course, you’re right. I have faith in the emperor. He was chosen by the gods to rule our kingdom.”

“May he live ten thousand years.” Ara says solemnly. You and Princess Min murmur in agreement.

“Still,” Princess Min’s voice is resolute as she gestures for a maid to refill her tea cup, “Concubine Nam cannot be trusted. Be careful.”

You sip your tea, pushing thoughts of the emperor’s dark eyes to the back of your mind and wonder just how much danger your sister is in.

-0-0-0-

When you return to your courtyard, servants are rushing around packing your trunks..

“Excuse me,” you feel bad interrupting one of the maids, but you have no idea what is going on and can’t help but fear the worst, “what is happening?”

“My lady,” the maid bows her head, “we have orders to move you and your sister to the Golden Bell courtyard.”

You frown and watch the servants continue to carry out your things, Ara clutches your hand, “On whose orders?”

“His Royal Highness.”

“As you were.” You dismiss the maid and turn towards Ara. You can see the excitement in her eyes. She’s practically vibrating. You nod for her to follow you out to the main yard where an imperial carriage is waiting to take you to your new courtyard.

“Sister,” She whispers, “The Golden Bell Courtyard. That’s closer to Imperial Princess Min’s private courtyard.”

“I know.”

-0-0-0-

The Golden Bell Courtyard is stunning. The main yard is filled with the fragrant Golden Bell flowers and the rooms were at least twice the size of your previous courtyard. Ara is practically giddy with excitement as she throws herself down on the large bed in the room you chose.

“He must already be in love with me.”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” You were surprised Ara was able to contain herself until the servants left.

“Everything is so luxurious.”

“It is.” You sit yourself at the fancy dressing table in the corner of the room and check your reflection in the bronzed mirror, “You should get used to this.”

Ara giggles and snuggles into the soft bedding. You watch her through the mirror and smile at her behavior. She was still so young and you wish you could shelter her forever. You still worried about her marrying into the imperial family, but you felt a little better knowing that Imperial Princess Min seems to have warmed to her. “You need to thank his majesty at tonight’s banquet.”

“Of course.” Your sister smiles and throws a soft goose feather pillow in the air, “I will make sure to thank him for his hospitality.”

-0-0-0-

Unfortunately, Emperor Min is not at the banquet that night. In fact, you were informed, for the next fourteen days he would not be attending any of the events Imperial Princess Min had scheduled.

You can tell the princess is upset. Her smile seems a little more strained and while she is able to handle everything as a hostess should, you can tell she is very stressed about whatever the emperor is currently handling. You have a strong suspicion it is related to Concubine Nam, but it is not your place to ask questions so you remain quiet. You do, however, try your best to help where you can, becoming a steadfast and loyal companion to her majesty, continuing to have meals with her whenever she requests and spending many afternoons in her pavilion with her. She would ask your opinions of the young ladies from the different households and tell you about what would be required of the empress consort. As the days moved along, the princess dismissed more and more of the potential brides for his majesty until only a handful were left. You were pleased that Ara seems to be the favorite.

You sit across from the Imperial Princess. She sent you a note at the morning meal requesting you to join her in her plum blossom garden this afternoon. You can tell the princess is upset. Her lips are pursed and her fingers are white as she grips her cup of tea tightly. You're afraid the delicate cup might crack.

“Your majesty’s plum blossom garden is beautiful. It must be the most fragrant and lovely plum blossom garden in all of the empire.”

Imperial Princess Min gives you a soft smile. She dismisses the servants and they step back so they are out of hearing range, but close enough to see if her highness requires anything.

“Concubine Nam is with child.”

You are silent for a moment. You keep yourself composed and don’t dare show your thoughts on your face. Your mind is frantically trying to process what this means. How could this have happened? What does this mean for Ara?

You swallow and gently speak, “Princess Min, please forgive this simple one for questioning, but I thought it was against the imperial law for a concubine to bear children?”

“It is.” Princess Min throws her tea cup on the ground in anger, two imperial maids rush over to clean up the shattered mess and prepare another cup of tea for her majesty. Once the servants step away, the Princess continues, “She stopped drinking the herbal tea the day my brother agreed to find a bride.”

“Will Concubine Nam be punished?” You don’t look at the princess when you ask, you focus on the full cup of tea in front of you.

“If she is punished, it won’t be until after she gives birth.” Princess Min takes a small bite of sweet cake, “The little bitch thinks the emperor will make her his empress consort.”

“Will he?”

“No,” Princess Min gives you a reassuring smile, “He will choose someone most deserving.” Her eyes shift as she stares at you until you feel you have to look away. “He’s been diligently working on preparing everything for his chosen consort. That and this unfortunate incident with Concubine Nam has kept him busy.”

You feel relief to know that Concubine Nam’s schemes do not seem to be working. And from the knowing smile the princess gives you, you feel elated that Ara will definitely be chosen as the consort. “What of the child?”

“The child will be recognized as a prince of the kingdom, but not an heir. Only the Empress can provide an heir.” Princess Min still looks unhappy, “I hope this won’t affect things going forward.”

It almost sounds like a question, as if she’s asking you if it will affect things. But you know that can’t be. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. This news will be upsetting to Ara, but not all is lost. This can still be salvaged. She could still marry and become the empress. Her child will still be the rightful heir. “No, I’m sure my sister will love any child that his highness produces.”

“Oh, yes, of course your sister would.” Princess Min gives you a curious smile, her dark eyes shining as if she’s amused. She takes your free hand in hers, “I hope I can request your confidence in this matter.” She says and gives your hand an almost too tight squeeze, “This must not be told to anyone.”

“Of course,” You nod your head solemnly, “I won’t say a word.”

-0-0-0-

The Emperor continues to absent himself from any events involving the possible consorts for the next several days. Even though it had yet to be announced, you knew he had already decided on an empress consort, therefore he did not need to attend any of the lavish events and parties his sister had scheduled. Though as the days progress and nothing more happens, you grow more and more concerned over Ara’s position until finally you are moved again to an even larger, more extravagant courtyard.

The Mugunghwa Courtyard.

The Mugunghwa Courtyard was reserved for the empress consort and is located directly next to the emperor’s private courtyard. The servants treat you and your sister like royalty, you are given the same respects the emperor and his sister are provided. Ara is enjoying the envious glares she receives from the other ladies and you allow her to enjoy her victory, but remind her to be polite and courteous to the servants because they will be her eyes and ears to what is happening in the other courtyards(including the harem).

Soon after you’re comfortably moved into the Mugunghwa Courtyard, the gifts begin arriving. Some days when you return to your rooms after the festivities, you find fresh Mugunghwa flowers on your bed. One morning you wake up and find a bottle of sweet perfumed oil. You know that it isn’t uncommon for a groom to bestow gifts upon his bride’s family, but you’re a little uncomfortable as the days progress and the gifts become more elaborate. Silk slippers, golden hairpieces, diamond necklaces… it’s all too much. Ara has also been receiving small gifts, flowers and oils. You don’t know why, but you don’t mention the jewelry or clothing to her.

You continue to spend time with Imperial Princess Min, her personal servants would invite you, and only you, to have a private audience with her almost daily. Once, you asked her where the emperor was, as you had not seen him since breakfast almost a week ago. She had smiled at you as if you’d said the one thing she longed to hear, and informed you he’d been out of the palace. Taking care of business. But assures you that he would return soon.

“If you would like, we can invite him to breakfast again.” She takes your arm and giggles, as if breakfast with her brother is against the rules. “But I might get jealous if my soon-to-be sister pays more attention to my brother than me.”

Your heart soars at her words. This is practically confirmation that Ara will be chosen!

She keeps you updated on the goings on with Concubine Nam. The child is growing strong, and Concubine Nam has already started showing a small bump on her otherwise perfect body. While you never wish harm on anyone, you cannot hide your small sense of satisfaction when you're told that Concubine Nam is visibly distraught over the fact that the emperor has not once visited her since she collapsed.

You are still very concerned about Ara finding out about the pregnancy. You have kept your word and stayed silent on the matter, but you know Ara’s bubble of happiness will burst once she is made aware. You spend many of your days touring the multiple gardens of The Mugunghwa Courtyard in contemplation, trying to decide if you should tell Ara what is happening.

You’re taking a leisurely stroll in the hibiscus garden when you suddenly feel like you’re being watched. This happens most days when you’re alone in the gardens, but no one is ever around so you dismiss it as your imagination. You startle when you hear the emperor’s deep voice call your name.

You spin around quickly and meet the burning gaze of the emperor. He’s dressed in his signature black robe, but this one is patterned with dark blue koi fish. His pale hair is pulled back in a low ponytail with a black headband across his forehead. Today he is wearing one long golden earring and a heavy golden choker around his throat.

You briefly wonder if he would adorn his Empress in so much gold.

“Your highness!” You immediately remember yourself and bow low.

You are still bent low and staring at the ground when you see a long black robe come into view. You feel a gentle finger under your chin and your head is tilted up until you’re standing again and staring directly up into the emperor’s perfect face.

He continues to stare at you, his eyes swirling with emotion. His finger moves from your chin to rub along your bottom lip and your eyes close involuntarily. He leans closer and you can smell the clean scent of his skin. You feel his breath on your lips…

The sound of a throat clearing jolts you. You snap your eyes open and immediately step away from the emperor’s personal space. Emperor Min is glaring heatedly at a eunuch who is standing several feet behind him. The eunuch looks apologetic, but you are grateful.

“Your majesty, are you also here to tour the gardens?” You can feel your cheeks heat and you absentmindedly smooth out your dress. “The hibiscus garden is especially fragrant this time of year.”

His eyes are gentle when he looks at you. He gives you a soft smile, “No. I am here to see you.”

“Me? I do not know what I have done to deserve your attention. How can I help his majesty?”

Emperor Min’s voice is serious, “You deserve more than my attention. You deserve everything.”

You turn away from his penetrating gaze, focusing on a nearby flower, “Your highness has been very kind to me and my sister. I cannot thank you enough.”

“Do not thank me.” The emperor chuckles, “I am a king. I always have an ulterior motive.”

You realize he is most likely speaking of Ara. As Ara’s elder sister, you know you have the most influence over her and her opinions. He is trying to gain your favor so she will be more likely to accept his suit, but he must know that Ara is already in love with him. Princess Min would never keep that information from him.

“I have a gift for you.”

“Another gift?” You look up at his handsome face, “I couldn’t possibly accept anything else. You’ve been so generous already.”

Faster than you can blink, his face is so close to yours, you can feel the brush of his lips as he speaks, his hand on your chin and eyes locked with yours.

“I am the emperor. It is my divine right to give what I want, and to take what I want. Do you understand?”

You blink and quickly lower your eyes, unable to bow your head, “Yes, your highness.”

He moves away and you catch yourself before you can stumble from the suddenness of it all.

“Eunuch Ki.” Emperor Min gestures and the eunuch steps forward holding a small wooden box, golden dragons painted on it. Eunuch Ki opens the box and you cannot stop your gasp when the contents are revealed. A beautifully hand carved jade bracelet is nestled within. You can see that your name is engraved in it along with the symbols of beauty and love.

Emperor Min holds out his hand, waiting for you to give him yours. You place your hand in his and watch quietly as he gently pushes up the sleeve of your dress. His hand is so much larger than yours and you shiver when his thumb gently rubs along your wrist.

Eunuch Ki hands him the bracelet and he tenderly clasps it around your wrist.

“Perfect.”

You feel something inside you stir, “It’s lovely.”

“Not as lovely as the wrist it adorns,” he meets your eyes, “it becomes you.”

You know you should pull away, part of you desperately wants to pull away. But he is the Emperor, and you know better.

“Ara loves her gifts too!” You blurt out, trying desperately to control the way your heart is pounding.

His face scrunches in thought and he tilts his head, “Ara… yes. Your sister. I’m glad she enjoys her gifts as well.” He raises your hand, flips it in his, and places a kiss on the inside of your wrist, lips brushing the cool jade beads. “Don’t take it off.” He commands, before leaving you alone once more.

-0-0-0-

After that, you did not go into the gardens alone, always making sure Ara or Princess Min is with you. While you never did run into the Emperor in the gardens again, you still sometimes felt his burning gaze on you, but when you looked around, he was never there.

Today, you and Ara are staying in your own courtyard. You feel that both of you need a break from court. You know you certainly do. You have already had your morning meal in your rooms and were currently relaxing in one of the many drawing rooms. You smile as Ara pricks her finger again on her needlework. “Be careful Ara. A lady's hands should be soft and delicate.”

You can’t hide your laughter at the adorable glower she gives you. “Why do I have to do this? When I’m empress, I’ll have the royal seamstresses do this for me.”

“It’s a good skill to have and maybe your husband would want a personalized gift from you.”

Ara pouts but doesn’t say anything else. You sit in comfortable silence, her trying to embroider and you snacking on small sweet cakes. The days seem to be getting slightly cooler and you were appreciative. You didn’t know how long this consort selection was going to take, but you were already longing for home. You had written several letters to your father, letting him know of Ara’s progress and wanting to hear any news from home. You were hoping maybe your marriage to Lord Kim would be finalized, but unfortunately, there was no news about that. Your father seemed to avoid mentioning Lord Kim at all. As for Lord Kim himself, you sent him a few brief letters asking after his health and wellbeing, but had yet to receive a response. He was normally very quick to reply to your letters, but you brushed off his lack of response due to the fact that he must be very busy.

Your musings are interrupted by the arrival of several imperial servants and a finely dressed eunuch. They are carrying two large golden trunks and place them down in front of you and your sister. The eunuch steps forward and bows low.

“My ladies,” You recognize the eunuch as the emperor’s most trusted servant, Eunuch Ki, the one who was at his side in the hibiscus garden, “His Royal Highness would be most pleased if the mistresses would accept his gifts.”

You and Ara share a look and you quickly stand from the soft, golden sofa, “Thank you, Eunuch Ki. We are honored to receive gifts from his eminence.”

The large golden trunks are opened and you can hear Ara’s gasp of delight. The emperor has provided each of you a ceremonial dress made of fine, silk fabric and beautiful hair ornaments. Ara’s dress is a gorgeous light blue patterned with silver butterflies. The matching hair ornament is a hair pin styled in beautiful swirls of silver and jade, a single butterfly resting on top.

Your dress is colored a rich gold and patterned with black mandarin ducks, diamonds line the long sleeves and train. The matching hair ornament is also a hair pin, but it looks to be solid gold with two mandarin ducks resting on top of a bed of orchids made out of diamonds. You hesitate at the pattern on the dress, unsure if this is a mistake.

“If it pleases the mistresses, his highness requests you wear his gifts to the Grand Banquet tomorrow evening.”

“Of course, we would be delighted.” Ara beams at Eunuch Ki when you don’t respond right away, your eyes still focused on the pattern on your dress.

“Eunuch Ki,” you follow him to the entrance of the drawing room, your voice quiet so others cannot overhear, “I feel there might be a mistake.” You gesture to your dress and your eyes flicker towards an oblivious Ara.

Eunuch Ki eyes you for a moment, his look is heavy and almost pitying, “The Emperor does not make mistakes.”

You swallow hard and nod at Eunuch Ki, closing the door behind him and turn to look at Ara. She’s already holding the dress up against herself and admiring it in the mirror.

The Emperor might not make mistakes, but you were beginning to think you had.

-0-0-0-

You slowly make your way towards the courtyard of the imperial princess. After Eunuch Ki had left last night, you received a summons from the Imperial Princess. She requested you to meet her for afternoon tea the following day before the grand banquet.

This side of the palace was oddly quiet. You knew that everyone was preparing for the grand banquet, so all the activity would be much livelier near the grand banquet hall. You had yet to see that hall, apparently it was large enough to hold all the noble families of the kingdom comfortably.

When you enter her private pavilion, Imperial Princess Min is reclining on a giant resting sofa, a servant girl fanning her.

“Your highness.” You bow your head reverently and wait for her to receive you.

She smiles beautifully and sits up, her dark eyes shining beautifully, as she holds her hands out to you, “I’m so glad you are here.”

“Your Highness flatters me.” You go to her, smiling as you take her hands in your own before releasing them to gesture to the ornately carved tea table in the corner, “Afternoon tea?”

“Yes, we have much to discuss.” Princess Min stands up and elegantly makes her way to the table, you follow obediently behind her. Once you are both seated, Princess Min gestures for a servant to pour tea.

“Are you excited for tonight’s banquet?” Princess Min takes a sip of her tea, “I’m so very excited and the banquet isn’t even for me.”

“Of course, tonight is a grand occasion. It deserves to be celebrated properly.” You swallow a sip of tea and look around the beautiful pavilion. “Thank you so much for the hospitality you have shown my sister and I. Your kindness will never be forgotten.”

Princess Min smiles at you and chatters about the drama currently happening in the harem courtyard, Concubine Nam was still holding hope that Emperor Min would choose her as his bride, while the other concubines were furious over her blatant violation of the rules. You listen and chime in when necessary, indulging in Princess Min’s love for gossip.

“What would you do with Concubine Nam and the harem?” Princess Min asks you, her voice curious, “How would you handle this entire scandal?”

“Well,” You ponder over her question for a moment. She had asked you similar questions before, but usually about how you would handle this political issue or that. Never one quite so close to home. You take another sip of tea, deciding how to answer without offending her, “an example would have to be made.”

“What kind of example?” Princess Min tilts her head slightly, her dark eyes swirling with something, “if you had the power, what would you do?”

“If I had the power?” You gesture for a servant to pour you another cup of tea and laugh softly, “If I had the power, my husband would not have a harem at all.”

Princess Min stares at you, her eyes practically glowing, “No harem? A normal man would not agree to your terms.”

You smile, “I will not marry just any man. I will marry a man solely devoted to me.”

The Princess giggles beautifully, “I love your way of thinking.”

“Well,” you giggle along with the princess, “My way of thinking isn’t something that is approved of. Luckily for his majesty, Ara will gladly allow him his harem.”

The princess quiets down and gestures for a servant to place a small, sweet cake on both of your plates. Her smile is sweet, “Tell me…”

“Hmm?” You tilt your head in question and take a small sip of tea.

Princess Min’s voice is light and soft, “when are you going to stop playing ignorant?”

You still completely, your stomach bubbling with dread. You keep your face calm and composed, but your heart is beating rapidly. After a brief silence, you question, “Pardon? Whatever do you mean?”

“You’re a very clever woman, it’s why I like you so much.” Her sweet smile never leaves her face, but her eyes are dark and cold. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“No,” You keep your voice firm, “I do not know what you mean at all.”

Princess Min’s smile widens, but her dark eyes are unsettling, “Did you enjoy Imperial Brother’s latest gift?”

You slowly set your tea cup on the table, “His highness gives the most thoughtful gifts, we are forever in his debt.”

“You know, he chose the pattern and colors himself.”

“About that,” you lick your lips before continuing, “Eunuch Ki gave me the golden dress by mistake.”

“Oh you are good. For someone who claims they have no interest in court or politics, that is. Though you need a little more training before you sit in on a council.” The Princess takes a bite of cake, her eyes flashing, “I don’t recommend playing dumb with me, however.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean.”

The Princess ignores your remark, “Have you heard of my betrothed? Prince Regent Jung Hoseok. He’s the general of the Imperial Army.”

“Of course,” your mind frantically tries to understand where the connection is, “He has helped the emperor win many battles.”

“Did you know that he was betrothed before?”

You shake your head, but don’t reply. You have no idea what this discussion has to do with the emperor’s gifts, but you didn’t dare interrupt or question her.

“He grew up in the palace here with Imperial Brother and I. My father, the emperor at the time, practically raised him as one of his own. He was Imperial Brother’s companion and also to be his general in war. I had been in love with him since I was very young. He was all I ever wanted.” Princess Min Glances off into the distance, as if she’s reminiscing, “For his outstanding work as the General of the Imperial Army, my father gifted him a marriage to a nobleman’s daughter... Lord Tokko’s only daughter, Yeong.”

Lord Tokko’s name was vaguely familiar to you, you had heard your father mention him a few times. As for his daughter, you had never heard of this woman, but by the tone of Princess Min’s voice and the frown on her face, you know it was someone that the princess did not like.

“The Prince Regent agreed to the marriage, he actually cared for her, thought himself to be in love,” The princess scoffs and takes a small sip of tea, “It was not hard for me to get my father to agree to have Lady Yeong come to the palace to serve as a friend and companion for me.”

“She was one of the kindest, sweetest, young women I had ever met.” The Princess locks eyes with you, “So trusting that even as she lay dying, it never crossed her mind that I was the one that poisoned her.”

You're quiet for several moments, trying to gather your thoughts. Your voice is a little shaky when you finally ask, “Why are you telling me this?”

Princess Min ignores you once again, “We thought the sickness had skipped my brother. It usually only manifests itself in the women in my family, my grandmother had it too, you know?”

“What sickness?” You are growing more alarmed. The Princess was revealing information and secrets that you should not know and you did not understand her reasoning.

Again, Princess Min ignores you, continuing her story as if she were a player on stage and you the enraptured audience, “He never showed any symptoms, not a care in the world for anyone but himself. The closest he came was Concubine Nam, but nothing serious ever happened with her. He would never make her his consort, so I knew she wasn’t the one.”

“Imagine my elation when you finally arrived. You have turned out to be all we hoped for and more.” Princess Min smiles at you beautifully, her dark eyes shining almost manically, “The moment he saw you, your fate was sealed.”

Before today, having Princess Min’s confidence made you feel warm and welcomed. Now you only feel dread.

“I.. I...” You lick your too dry lips and stumble over your words, your composure crumbling in the wake of the Imperial Princess’ confession, “I am to be married to Lord Kim. My father is working out the contracts.”

“Lord Kim?” The princess giggles, “My brother wanted to strip him and his family of their lands and titles, but I was able to talk him back from that.”

“I don’t understand.” You feel cold all over.

“Yes, you do.” The princess gestures and a maid comes forward holding a silver tray, the princess grabs the small bundle of letters and tosses them on the table, “You’re lucky that I was able to intercept these before Imperial Brother read them. If he knew you were writing to another man, he would have Lord Kim beheaded.”

You’re quiet, staring at the letters you wrote to Lord Kim asking after his health. The letters he never received. Too much was going through your mind. What about Ara?

“My father-”

“Your father has already agreed and I was able to have Imperial Brother gift a marriage to Lord Kim.” Princess Min’s voice is pleasant, as if she's discussing the weather, “Your sister will be his bride.”

You stand abruptly from the table, your chair clattering to the floor behind you. You feel shaken and terrified. You knew something was off, but you were hoping, praying, you were wrong.

“Please excuse me, your majesty.” You step back from the table, your eyes slightly glassy, “I need to rest before tonight’s banquet.”

“Please, call me Ji-Soo…,” The princess smiles at you, her dark eyes are filled with what you now recognize as madness, the same look found in the emperor’s eyes when he looks at you,

“..We’re family after all.”

-0-0-0-

When you arrive back at your courtyard, your mind is still struggling to comprehend what is happening. You rush past the servants and lock yourself in your room. You stare at the beautiful golden dress laid out on your bed, the diamonds twinkling as if mocking you. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Ara is supposed to be empress.

You slide to the floor, your back against the door. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You stare at the dress, but your mind isn’t focused on it. You’re trying to think, trying to plan. What are you supposed to do? You don’t even entertain the thought that your father will save you. You have no choice. Emperor Min holds all the power.

You don’t realize that hours have passed with you staring blankly at the dress until the servants knock on your door. “My lady, we are here to prepare you for the banquet.”

“I don’t need help to prepare. Please leave me.”

“My lady,” The voice of the maid is trembling, fearful, “The emperor insists.”

You swallow and stand, your legs shaky. You open the door and stare at the servants, they are terrified. Terrified of the emperor, terrified of his displeasure. You realize that you and them are not so different. No one has a choice. Everyone is subject to Emperor Min’s whims.

“Where is Ara?”

“She has already been prepared for the banquet.” Several servants rush in carrying a large washing tub filled with steaming water. The water is fragrant and several flowers are flowing on the surface.

You watch a large dressing screen being set up around the tub, several of the servants bow low to you before quickly leaving the room. You look at them questioningly and an older maid steps forward, “Forgive us, my lady. We are under strict instructions and not allowed to help you undress or bathe.”

“What? Why?”

The maid licks her lips and hangs several white undergarments over the dressing screen, “The emperor made a new decree that it is a crime punishable by death for anyone other than the emperor himself to view the empress consort’s nude body.”

It’s a jarring experience to be referred to as the empress consort.

“It- it is not official.”

You want to scream at them that this is wrong. That you’re not even betrothed, that this isn’t supposed to be you.

They won’t meet your eyes.

The jade bracelet on your wrist slides, warm beads against cool skin, and that’s when you realize all the mistakes you have made. You can’t stop the heavy weight you feel in your chest. You can feel your lips begin to tremble and your eyes feel watery. You don’t want to cry, but you know you should because you have the horrible feeling that once you are announced as the chosen empress consort at the banquet, the emperor will not let you out of his sight.

The maid smooths over any imaginary wrinkles in the undergarments and gives you a pitying look, “Please get dressed in these once you are finished and we will prepare you for the banquet.”

You’re left alone and you robotically remove your dress and undergarments. The water is hot and relaxing and it soothes your frazzled nerves. You lean your head back against the washing tub, you can hear the maids quietly talking behind the dressing screen. Your mind is racing. You are a smart girl. Your father has always praised your brilliance and forward thinking and lamented over you not being born a boy. You could figure this out. You could find a way out.

There is obviously something seriously wrong with the Imperial siblings. The Princess herself confessed to murdering a love rival and the emperor has never shown any sign of this alleged sickness until now. Concubine Nam is carrying his child. You’ve already told Princess Min about your distaste of the harem. You refuse to have a husband that continues to keep a harem of concubines.

But you know, you know, you could not refuse the emperor’s suit. You did not have any choice in the matter. While this is not the outcome that you nor Ara want, you know that your father will be pleased. All men want is power. They do not care for who they hurt or how they use their children like pawns. Your father will be the father-in-law of the emperor, his position and power will be secured.

The water is cold when you finally decide to step out of the washing tub. You resolve yourself to your future. Being the Empress Consort is not the worst fate you can have, but you were fearful of your sister’s reaction. She will hate you.

You slowly put on your undergarments and step out from behind the screen. The maids eagerly rush you over to the large dressing table and sit you down. You stare at your worn reflection in the large, ornate mirror.

Several maids kneel at your sides, dipping your fingers and toes in a dark paste. Other maids rub scented lotion onto your arms and legs. You watch through your reflection as the older maid rearranges your hair into an intricate updo, her skilled hands working effortlessly.

Your voice is a little hoarse when you speak, but you clear your throat and look at the older maid, “Will you be my personal servant?”

“Of course,” The maid gives you a warm smile, “His highness chose me personally to care for his bride.”

You give her a strained smile in return, neither of you mention the fact that the emperor chose servants that would be loyal to him. It wasn’t uncommon for a bride to bring a handful of trusted servants with them to their new home, but these aren’t normal circumstances. You would truly be alone here. “May I know your name?”

“Unso.”

“Unso.” You say the name carefully, “Please take good care of me.”

“My absolute pleasure.” She beams and gestures to your hair, the golden hairpin shining on top. The hairstyle is extravagant and more beautiful than any you have ever worn. The other maids clean the dark paste off your fingers and toes, revealing the nails to be stained a pretty red. Another servant brings a small jar of white cream and rubs it onto your face. You sit still as makeup is applied to your face. Your lips are painted a dark red and your eyes are lined with kohl. A small, delicate mugunghwa flower is painted in red and black between your eyebrows.

You stand and the maids help you dress in the beautiful golden dress. They take their time making sure everything is perfect. When you are fully dressed, the servants all stand back and stare at their hard work.

“Mistress is the most beautiful!”

“The Emperor has chosen well!”

“Her beauty is unparalleled!”

“An absolute vision!”

“His highness will be most pleased!”

The praises are interrupted by Eunuch Ki. He gives you a once over before nodding to Unso, “Excellent. Make sure everything is prepared as instructed.”

Unso nods her head and steps back.

“My lady,” Eunuch Ki bows low to you, “Please allow me to escort you to the banquet hall.”

You look around nervously, “But Ara-”

“Your sister is already at the banquet.”

“I see.” You nod your head realizing you don’t have a choice, “I would be honored for Eunuch Ki to escort me.”

He gives you another low bow and turns to lead the way out of your rooms. Unso gives you an encouraging smile and you nod your head in return. Eunuch Ki leads you out of your courtyard to an extravagant imperial carriage. From the design and brilliance, you can tell that this is the emperor’s personal carriage.

The ride to the grand banquet hall is quiet. You’re positive that you’re shaking in your seat. Eunuch Ki is watching you, but he doesn’t comment on your nerves. The carriage comes to a stop and the door is opened by an imperial guard. Eunuch Ki steps down first. You follow slowly behind him, all the servants and guards bowing in your presence.

The long walk to the banquet hall seems to last seconds. You can feel sweat beading on your forehead and you are distractedly worried that all the servants' hard work on your face paint will come undone. The closer you get to the hall, the louder the music and laughter from inside becomes. You can hear that it is a grand celebration and you worry for a moment that you are late.

Eunuch Ki stops several feet away from the double doors. He gives you a sad smile and leans close to you, “An empress does not show fear. An empress does not show despair.”

You nod your head in understanding, straighten your back and hold your head high. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest; the expectations of the kingdom weighing on your shoulders. You can feel the sinking feeling in your stomach that Ara will never forgive you. You desperately hope she can understand.

You do not have a choice.

“Please open the doors.”

The large golden doors are heavy, requiring several servants to push them open. A loud chime is heard from the inside of the room. Eunuch Ki steps forward and announces your arrival, but you cannot hear him over the sound of the blood rushing through your ears.

You step forward and you can feel all eyes are on you, but the only eyes you can focus on are the emperor’s. Dark, calculating, mad. He’s not dressed in his customary black, but gold. His ceremonial robes are a bright gold patterned with black mandarin ducks, matching yours. His long hair is unbound, a glittering crown is placed upon his brow. He is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

The room is so quiet you can hear a pin drop. You take several slow steps into the room and make your way towards the emperor. Before you reach him, Princess Min steps forward, a handsome man you recognize as Prince Regent Jung Hoseok at her side. The couple is dressed in matching colors. Royal blue and patterned with silver bats. Princess Min leans close to you and kisses both your cheeks. She pauses to whisper a quiet, “Good Girl,” that only you can hear. Prince Regent Jung gives you a low bow.

You bow in return to the Princess and her betrothed. The room is still deathly quiet. When you finally reach the emperor, he stares at you as if you are the only thing he has ever wanted. You prepare to bow, but Emperor Min stops you, “From this moment forward, you bow to no one.”

You swallow and nod your head. Emperor Min continues staring at you, his eyes swirling with equal parts happiness and madness. Eunuch Ki steps forward holding a golden goblet. You stare at the goblet and then look at the emperor in horror. This isn’t right. You realize quickly that this is no ordinary celebration banquet.

This is a wedding.

You quickly look away, desperately searching for Ara. Slim fingers grip your chin tightly, you can feel the cold metal of his rings pressing into your skin. Your face is turned back to the Emperor.

“Who is the king?” His voice is quiet, but firm, “Who is the boss?”

You stare into his cold eyes. He knows he has you trapped and he knows there is nothing you can do. While you want to believe that you had reconciled yourself with your fate, you had truly hoped that you had more time to find a way out. But there is no way out.

After a few moments, you nod your head in understanding and open your mouth to accept a drink from the goblet. Emperor Min takes the goblet from Eunuch Ki and holds it to your lips. His smile is gentle, but his eyes are filled with triumph as you drink.

The rice wine is sweet but you barely taste it. You swallow a large gulp and lick your lips. The emperor’s eyes darken as he watches you and his smile widens. He gently places the goblet into your hands and you carefully hold it up to his lips. He takes several large gulps, but never breaks eye contact with you.

Eunuch Ki grabs the goblet from you and before you know what is happening, you’re in the emperor’s embrace. One of his hands cup the back of your head as the other holds you tightly by the waist, “Finally, you’re mine.”

His kiss catches you off guard and you close your eyes involuntarily. You know that kissing is improper for a wedding ceremony and should only be done in private, but no one would dare question the emperor. His lips are soft and taste of the rice wine you just drank. When his tongue gently coaxes your lips open, you do not resist. Your fingers grip his shoulders and you cannot stop yourself from melting into him.

When he finally releases you, you steady yourself against him. You’re in a daze as the emperor leads you to the royal table. You stand quietly at his side as he raises a glass of wine in a toast, “To my new bride, your new empress!”

The hall is filled with thunderous applause and cheering. Your moves are robotic as the emperor instructs you to sit next to him. He fills your plate with all your favorite delicacies and pours you a cup of tea. The musicians start playing music again and the murmur of conversations start up around you. You glance around the hall and realize that all the eligible young ladies that were prospective consorts are wearing matching dresses. Light blue and patterned with butterflies. The same dress that Ara was gifted.

You look around for Ara and you find her seated between your father and Lord Kim. Your father and Lord Kim seem to be in a serious conversation. Ara looks calm and composed, but her eyes betray her. You can see her unhappiness and your heart aches.

“Beloved,” You’re jolted by the emperor’s deep, somber voice, “Don’t worry about your sister. She will be taken care of. Lord Kim will make her happy.”

It takes you a moment to respond, but you do so quietly, “My sister’s only happiness will always be with the emperor.”

The emperor glances in the direction of your sister and then turns back to you, his smile is sweet, “You are a good sister, but it’s time you put your happiness first.”

You’re puzzled, “My happiness?”

“Your happiness.” Emperor Min kisses your lips softly, “To be my bride. To be my queen. To be mine.”

You stare at him incredulously, and realize he truly believes that you are happy being his bride. He really thinks you wanted this and were only holding yourself back for Ara’s sake. Princess Min gives you a knowing smile from across the table. You sit in a daze as the night progresses. The emperor would let no other serve you, but himself, constantly refilling your plate and cup.

You can feel the angry glare of Concubine Nam on you from across the hall and when you finally meet her gaze, you're startled to realize that she’s also wearing the same light blue dress, patterned with silver butterflies, that Ara was gifted. In fact, all the concubines are dressed this way.

Concubine Nam’s face is fuller and glowing beautifully. Her soft, demure persona would be more believable if her eyes weren’t filled with hatred. You’re secretly pleased that her plan to trap the emperor has failed. If she was smart, she would try to gain favor with you, but instead she will most likely plot to poison you. You give her a small nod of acknowledgement and she sneers in return before turning away.

The night drags on and you're exhausted from trying to keep a happy facade. You catch your shoulders drooping more often than not, and even feel yourself lean against the emperor a time or two.

When it is finally time to receive congratulations from the representatives from the noble families, you stay quiet at the emperor’s side. You smile when needed and murmur thanks when prompted. Everything feels unreal.

When your family steps forward, you try to catch Ara’s eyes. She nods her head at Princess Min and bows low to you, “Your highness, many happy wishes on your marriage. May the gods bless you with healthy sons.”

Her voice is cold and you can see the hatred in her eyes. You grab her hand, “Ara please, you must understand.”

“Understand that my sister is a liar?” Ara raises her voice and pulls away from you, “Understand that she is a snake who planned this?!”

“Ara, no.” Your voice cracks and you can feel tears brimming in your eyes, your exhaustion and stress finally catching up to you, “You are my most beloved sister. I would never-”

“And yet, here you are.” Ara’s voice is mocking, “Empress.”

The scene your sister is making draws the attention of your father and Emperor Min, who were in the middle of a quiet conversation near you. Even Princess Min is frowning from where she is seated, obviously hearing the raise of Ara’s voice.

“Enough.” The emperor’s voice is cold as he glares furiously at Ara, “You dare to show disrespect to your empress?”

“She tricked you! Can’t you see she tricked you?!” Ara ignores the dangerous aura surrounding Emperor Min, “It was supposed to be me! I am supposed to be your queen. I love y-”

“Guards. Detain her. Disrespect to the empress is punishable by death.”

You can see the fear on Ara’s face, she backs away quickly, but the guards grab her. Your father looks alarmed and even Lord Kim looks fearful for your sister’s life. You look at the emperor and grip his arm tightly, “Please, please do not punish her. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

“She dared to disrespect you. She doesn’t deserve to live.”

“Please,” You beg him, you look at Ara’s fearful face and close your eyes in dismay, you know she will hate you even more after this. You firm your resolve and open your eyes, “She’s only a child.”

You press yourself against the emperor, “She’s harmless. She knows that what we have is real. She knows that you love me. She’s only jealous.”

The emperor’s eyes soften as he stares at you. “And you? Do you love me?”

You glance at your sister, an apology in your eyes, before wrapping your arms around Emperor Min, “I love you. Only you.”

He kisses you deeply and waves away the guards. Once he breaks the kiss, you feel yourself sag against him in relief as Ara is released and your father ushers her away. You can feel Lord Kim staring at you and when you finally meet his gaze, you're taken aback by the devastation in his eyes.

His eyes flicker between you and the emperor before he turns around and follows after your father. You stare after him but the emperor blocks your view. You look up and meet his eyes.

“Your eyes are only meant for me. No one else.”

You nod your head, but don’t say a word. Emperor Min continues to stare at you for a moment longer, before he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Eunuch Ki.”

Eunuch Ki suddenly appears at the Emperor’s side ready and willing to do whatever is asked of him and gives a low bow, “Your majesty.”

“Take my bride to rest.”

“At once, your grace.” Eunuch Ki gestures for you to follow him and you do so without another word. Once the heavy golden doors close behind you, you finally let the tears fall from your eyes. You cry silently on the long carriage ride back to the other side of the palace. Eunuch Ki looks uncomfortable and like he wishes to offer words of comfort, but has no idea what to say.

You go to rub your eyes with the sleeve of your dress, but Eunuch Ki stops you and hands you a soft cloth, “Forgive me your highness, but your dress must be preserved for the royal archives, you must not dirty it.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” You give a sad hiccup laugh and look out the carriage window. You realize quickly that you are not headed to the Mugunghwa Courtyard, but to the Emperor’s private courtyard.

“I thought the Emperor wanted me to rest.”

Eunuch Ki gives you a look, but doesn’t respond. When the carriage rolls to a stop, Unso is there to help you down from the carriage. If she sees the distress on your face, she doesn’t comment on it. She gives you a low bow and leads you into the Emperor’s lair.

His private courtyard and rooms are enormous. Everything is draped in silks of black and gold. When you finally reach the Emperor’s private chambers, you’re astounded. His bedroom has the largest canopy bed you have ever seen, covered in a mountain of pillows. There is a large wooden desk in one corner of the room surrounded with several shelves filled with scrolls. There’s two separate golden resting sofas, each larger than you have ever seen and even a large dressing table with a mirror, obviously for a woman to use. There are also large double doors leading out to a small, private hot spring.

You watch Unso bustle around the room, preparing things and beckoning you over to the dressing table. “Your highness, let me help you remove your makeup.”

You sit quietly at the table and let Unso gently wash your face. You watch her put a special cream under your eyes to bring down the puffiness from your tears. She takes her time undoing your hair and leaving it unbound. You meet her eyes in the reflection of the mirror, “How many women has he bedded here?”

She looks puzzled at your question, “His majesty has never brought any woman here.”

“Concubine Nam?”

“Never.” Unso’s voice is resolute, “His majesty has never brought any woman, harem or no, here. These are his private chambers.”

“I see.” You don’t know if she’s lying to you, but if she is, you appreciate it. You feel slightly better knowing you are the only woman to ever sleep in his chambers.

Unso opens a chest and pulls out a black silk robe embroidered with red mugunghwa flowers and lays it over the top of the dressing screen in the corner of the room, “Your highness, you should remove your clothes and put this on. I’ll make you some tea and then you can lay down and rest.”

You slowly make your way behind the dressing screen and painstakingly remove your wedding dress. You leave it in a heap on the floor along with your undergarments. You know there is no point in wearing them and while you are nervous and a little scared, you know the consummation is inevitable.

You put the silk robe on, and gently tie the sash around your waist. When you step around the dressing screen, Unso has already prepared the bed by removing many of the pillows and replacing the black silk sheets with a soft, white one. The white sheet shines ominously in the low light of the lanterns.

“Your highness, have some tea to soothe your nerves.” Unso has brewed some fresh tea, but the scent is different than any you have had before. You sit stiffly on the edge of the newly made bed and take a small sip of tea. The taste is slightly bitter, but soon you feel yourself relaxing.

“What type of tea is this?” You ask as Unso refills your cup and urges you to drink more.

She pats your head and gives you a warm smile, “Don’t worry. It was requested by his highness to help improve your health.”

You nod and don’t question her. You assume it’s similar to what the harem drinks to prevent pregnancy. The emperor is still young and with the drama that Concubine Nam has caused, you doubt children were on his mind. Before you know it, you’ve finished the entire pot.

Unso helps tuck you in bed, and turns down all the lanterns. The only light in the room is that from the moonlight seeping in through the heavy curtains. You can barely keep your eyes open and the last thing you hear before you drift asleep is Unso’s quiet words, “Rest well, your majesty. You will need it.”

-0-0-0-

You’re awoken by a soft noise. You sit up and look around but don’t notice anything out of place. You’re still alone in the emperor’s bed. You see a faint glow under a previously unnoticed door in the far corner near his large desk.

You get out of bed and make your way to the door. It opens soundlessly and a large staircase is revealed. You slowly make your way up the staircase, being careful not to make a sound. At the top of the staircase is a large room. It looks like an artist’s studio. Numerous canvases line the walls, charcoals and paints scattered over several large wooden tables stationed through the room.

You see half finished portraits of Princess Min and a few of the previous emperors. You step into the room, careful not to disturb the artwork. There are some more paintings of several gardens and fountains that inhabit the palace grounds. In the corner of the room there is a beautiful hand carved desk, slightly smaller than the large tables, covered with more artwork. When you get closer you realize the paintings and sketches are all of you. You in the dress you wore the first night you arrived, you smiling in Princess Min’s private pavilion, you taking a walk in one of the private gardens, you asleep in your private rooms. Hundreds of paintings and drawings of you.

You see another canvas underneath, it's slightly worn with frayed edges as if it’s been touched frequently. When you pull it out you see it's a painting of you, but this one you recognize. Two summers ago your father had you and your sister sit for a family portrait. The artist was impeccable and it was one of the most accurate paintings you had ever seen of yourself, it was almost like looking in the mirror. You see that the painting is torn, your sister and father removed from the portrait.

“You’ve found my sanctuary.”

You startle at the emperor’s voice and drop the canvas as if you’ve been burned. He’s standing at the entrance of the room, he’s no longer dressed in the golden robe, but now his signature black. It’s tied loosely, so the smooth pale skin of his chest is visible. His blond hair is loose and his crown is gone.

“You’re quite the artist.” You gesture around the room, “but I notice there is no artwork of your concubines, of your beloved Concubine Nam.”

The emperor glances around, taking in his artwork as he steps further into the room, “Are you jealous of In-Suk?”

You frown at the use of her first name, but do not deny his accusation, “I do not like the thought of my husband bedding other women.”

“There are no other women.” Emperor Min slowly makes his way over to you, “You’re the only one that matters.”

You glance back at the desk littered with portraits of you, your eyes stopping on the torn family portrait, “How long have I been the only one that matters?”

He smiles, “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” You keep your voice calm and composed, “It matters to me.”

Emperor Min stands close to you, his fingers trailing over the artwork on the desk, “I had no interest in marriage. Lords and other noblemen constantly throwing their daughters at me. Your father is no different. Going on and on about Ara and how wonderful and virtuous she is.” He smiles wryly, “I finally got him to shut up by feigning interest.”

The emperor gently picks up the torn family portrait, “Imagine my surprise when he brings me this. A beautiful family portrait. I ask him about you and he immediately tells me about what a beautiful and doting older sister you are to Ara. How ever since your mother died, you have helped raise her. How you love her more than anything.”

He sets the portrait down and grabs your hands, gently turning you to face him, “I knew then that you would sacrifice everything for your beloved sister. I also knew that I needed to get you into the palace. Once you were here, you could not deny me.”

“But I was supposed to marry Lord-”

“Never say his name again.” Emperor’s Min’s voice is hard, leaving no room for discussion, “I am your husband. He is nothing.”

“Of course,” Your voice is quiet, you hesitate for a moment before you continue your questioning, “But… but Princess Min set up the consort selection. She told me she had to practically beg you to agree.”

“My beloved wife.” Emperor Min cups your face affectionately, his previous sour mood at the mention of Lord Kim completely gone, “You’re too trusting. She poisoned her companion, do you really think she would not lie to help her brother?”

“But Ara-”

“Ara will forgive you.” He presses a soft kiss against your lips, “Or she won’t. It does not matter.”

“But-”

“Is it really so bad being Empress?” Emperor Min presses another kiss to your lips, his fingers tangle in your unbound hair, “Being Mother to the country?”

“No-no, I am grateful to your majesty.” You shiver at his touch, grasping his shoulders as he presses himself against you.

“Yoongi.” He places more kisses down your lips and chin, “Call me Yoongi.”

“Yoongi!” You gasp when he softly bites your neck.

You feel him reach behind you and push everything off the large desk, the sound of canvases and painting supplies hitting the floor echoes throughout the room. Yoongi picks you up and sits you on the large desk, his lips never leaving your skin.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” His mouth is muffled by the skin of your neck, his lips and tongue trail lower. You feel hot all over and cannot help but shiver when his hand yanks the collar of your robe down your shoulder. “My beautiful queen.”

Your fingers clutch at the silk fabric of his robe, holding him closer to you. You don’t stop him when he undoes your robe, his hot fingers trailing down the skin of your abdomen. “Beloved, will you show me?”

You wordlessly lean back, letting the open robe slip down your arms, baring your nude body to his view. His eyes are burning as he drinks you in. “Absolutely Exquisite.”

Yoongi leans over you, pressing himself between your thighs, and kisses you deeply. His tongue licks into your mouth with desperation. His hands are shaking as he grips your hips, and you quickly free yourself from the sleeves of your robe.

He breaks the kiss to trail his mouth down your neck and chest, his hot tongue swirls around your exposed breast before suckling the nipple. You can’t stop your moan, your whole body jerks at the feeling. “Y-Yoongi!”

“Say it again.” Yoongi’s voice is filled with desperation as he kisses down your ribs, “Say my name again.”

“Yoongi.” You whisper and your stomach clenches when he kisses lower, his wet tongue trailing over your abdomen. You’re so aroused, you can feel your wetness coating your thighs, but you can’t bring yourself to be embarrassed.

“I have never seen a more beautiful woman.” Yoongi presses a soft kiss below your belly button, “The country has never had a more beautiful empress.”

“Your highness flatters me.”

“No.” Yoongi’s firm voice startles you and when you meet his eyes, they are burning with madness, “This emperor loves you. Only you.”

You shiver at the look in his eyes and nod your head in return, “Yes. Of course.”

Yoongi presses another kiss to your abdomen, his large hands gripping your thighs as he stares at you, “Will you deny your king?”

“Never.”

The smile he gives you is equal parts beautiful and dangerous, his dark, dark eyes overflowing with adoration for you, “Good girl.”

Your breath catches when he spreads your thighs apart and leans forward, his mouth inches away from your wet, pulsing cunt. “I wonder if you taste as succulent as you smell.”

You feel your pussy throb at his words and you lean your head back against the desk, your eyes closing in anticipation. You find his crude words more arousing than you ever thought possible. Your heart is beating so fast and you can feel sweat beading on your forehead. While you have never been intimate with a man, you were no stranger to self pleasure. You just never imagined your first experience with a man would be the emperor of the entire nation between your thighs, waiting to pleasure you. The heady rush of excitement is making you dizzy.

You tense when Yoongi presses the flat of his tongue against your juicy pussy. His tongue is hot as it licks a slow stripe up to your clit and you both release a throaty groan when he sucks your clit into his mouth.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you get light headed from lack of oxygen. You're shivering all over and you feel a tight pressure in your stomach. Your entire body is tuned to Yoongi’s mouth, every lick and suck of his tongue has you soaring.

“Better.” He whispers between licks of your swollen clit, his fingers shaking as he holds your thighs apart, “You taste so much better than anything I’ve ever had before.”

You press your hand into your mouth to bite down on, trying to muffle your moans. Your other hand scrambles for something to hold onto before tangling in his long, soft hair.

You press your heel into his back, but if Yoongi is bothered, he does not show it. He’s completely focused on devouring you. You bite your hand hard to cover your squeal when his hot fingers gently probe your cunt. He reaches up to pull your hand out of your mouth, his fingers gently stroking your wrist around the jade bracelet, “Do not dare hide your pleasure from me.”

He places your hand on his head, near your other hand already grasping his hair, and encourages you to use him as you please. A long, thick finger slips inside you and you cannot stop yourself from clamping down, your hips automatically rolling up into his face.

“That’s it, my beautiful girl,” Yoongi continues to flick your clit with his tongue, “Ride my face.”

Your fingers grasp his head, holding his mouth against your aching cunt. You’re throbbing and dripping and you know you are going to come soon. You can feel the release building deep inside you. Yoongi presses another finger into your dripping hole and you can feel yourself trembling. He’s completely focused on you and your pleasure, his mouth working nonstop to help you reach your peak.

You sit up slightly and meet his dark gaze, his eyes are brimming with satisfaction. You grip his hair hard and press his face against your dripping cunt. You’re so close you’re practically vibrating with pleasure.

He twists his fingers and you're coming. You release a soundless gasp and can’t stop yourself from gushing all over his fingers. Yoongi moans at the taste of you, his mouth eagerly trying to swallow every drop of your release. You collapse on the desk, your orgasm still thrumming through your body.

You barely catch your breath when he’s hovering over you, your release glistening on his lips and chin. He kisses you deeply, making sure you can taste yourself on his tongue. You can feel his body trembling as he undoes his robe and you cannot figure out if he’s nervous or excited, or a combination of both.

He breaks the kiss to look at you and your stomach flutters at his gaze, so full of yearning and affection, you’re no longer sure why you ever thought about denying him. You hadn't even realized something was missing from your life, he was missing from your life, until this moment. You weren't just doing this out of a sense of duty. Because you were his wife. Because he was your husband. You wanted this. Desperately. More than you’d wanted anything up until this moment.

Full of your realization, you push his robe off his shoulders and spread your legs wider, allowing him to press himself completely against you. He’s hot and hard, pulsing between your thighs. You shiver at the feel of him, your sticky cunt still dripping from your orgasm. You look at him, his cheeks flushed pink, his forehead and chest slightly sweaty, his hair a tangled mess. His scar looks less intimidating in the low light of the lanterns.

“You love me?” You don’t realize you have said the words out loud until he stares at you, his dark, dark eyes burning.

“More than anything.”

It’s intoxicating knowing you have this beautiful man confessing his love to you. He is the most powerful man in the entire world and he loves you more than anything. You can’t help the ugly feelings of jealousy bubbling in your stomach, knowing other women have seen him undone like this. Knowing that Concubine Nam has had him like this is unacceptable.

“I want them gone.” You shift forward slightly, the head of his thick cock catching on your entrance. You feel so hot between your legs, your cunt aching to be spread open by him.

“Who?” He sounds confused, distracted. His whole body is trembling, holding himself back from thrusting up into you.

“Your whores.” You roll your hips and feel him sink a few inches inside you, you hold your breath and try not to tense up at the intrusion. “I will not have a husband that has a harem. I want them all gone, especially that bitch Nam. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing you like this.”

“Yes,” You feel more than hear him gasp, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, “Anything you want.

“You’re mine.”

Your whispered declaration causes something inside of him to snap. You’re unprepared when he pushes completely inside of you. The burning stretch of his thick, heavy cock leaves your breathless. He groans into your chest, barely giving you a moment to adjust before he’s thrusting in and out. Every roll of his hips has you clenching around him. His lips press soft kisses into your skin between pants of yesyesyes and all yours. You’re soaked and shaking, your fingers clutch his shoulders, trying to anchor him against you. He’s so thick and so large, you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“My Empress, My Goddess,” Yoongi whispers reverently into your skin, “I will give you everything.”

“Yes,” You press yourself closer to him, ignoring the feel of his ringed fingers bruising your hips, “All I want is you.”

Every thrust of his hips brings you closer to the edge. You’re quivering around him, so close you can almost taste it. You shudder when he releases your hip, his fingers gently rubbing your swollen clit, causing you to pulse around him. “That’s it, my beloved girl. Come for me.”

Yoongi softly pinches your clit and you explode. His tongue licks up your throat, his mouth swallowing your quiet cries of pleasure. You clench down and feel him gasp against you, his body shuddering uncontrollably. The pulse of his cock inside you floods you with warmth.

You close your eyes and hold him against you, trying to catch your breath. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. You slowly run your fingers through his hair and smile when you realize he’s still buried inside you.

He sits up and stares at you. You can see your reflection in his dark eyes. Your hair is disheveled and your lips are swollen. You can see your eyes are hazy with pleasure and several love bites adorn your neck and shoulders.

“My beloved bride.” Yoongi smiles at you affectionately, his fingers gently brush your hair back from your sweaty forehead, “I will never let you go.”

-0-0-0-

When you awaken you’re alone in the emperor’s bed, his side is cool, as if he’s been gone for hours. You’re sore all over, your husband spent most of the night inside of you, making you come over and over again until the early morning light.

You wrap the wrinkled white sheet around you and stand on shaky legs. You slowly make your way to the door and call for Unso. She appears immediately, almost as if she was waiting for you.

She helps you sit at the dressing table and goes about opening the curtains. Based on the sunlight entering the room, you can tell it is already early afternoon. Several maids clear the used bedding from the bed, and replace the sheets with clean silk ones.

“Where is the emperor?”

“His majesty wanted his bride to get enough rest, he would not let anyone disturb your highness.” Unso ignores your question and pulls a black dress patterned with golden dragons from the wardrobe. She hangs it over the silk dressing screen along with several undergarments.

You watch her through the mirror as she orders servants to prepare bath water for you. You can tell that something is amiss by the way Unso will not meet your eyes and the maids scurry about as if they are terrified of you.

“Your highness,” A younger maid bows low and holds out a fresh cup of tea, “your tea?”

You take the cup from the trembling maid, it’s the same bitter tea from the night before. You take a small sip, “Unso, where is my husband?”

“Your majesty, you must drink your tea, it is good for your health.” Unso comes out from behind the dressing screen, “Come take your bath, it will soothe your sore muscles.”

“No,” You set the mostly full cup of tea on the dressing table and stand up, “Bring me my robe.”

“Your majesty, you cannot go out in only your robe!” Unso’s voice is shocked. “It is improper!”

“Fine,” You make your way behind the dressing screen and put on your undergarments, “You will help me dress and then you will take me to my husband.”

Unso and several maids help you put on the stunning black dress. You’re ushered to the dressing table where you are adorned in diamond jewelry. Unso styles your hair with a jeweled dragon hairpin. Lotions and creams are rubbed into your face, neck and arms.

Once you are deemed presentable, you follow Unso and several servant girls to the throne room. When you reach the large doors, Eunuch Ki looks alarmed to see you and quickly bows low, “Y-your highness! What are you doing here?”

“Eunuch Ki,” You nod your head in greeting, “I came to see my husband.”

“I see,” Eunuch Ki shares an undecipherable look with Unso, “His majesty is conducting important business, he has asked me to inform you that he will join you in his rooms later for the evening meal.”

“Open the doors.”

“Please your majesty, you need to rest.” Eunuch Ki tries to placate you, “Let me take you back to the emperor’s courtyard or even to see Princess Min.”

“Open the doors. Now.”

Eunuch Ki looks helplessly at Unso before nodding his head. The guards slowly push the heavy doors open.

The smell is the first thing that hits you. The thick coppery scent of blood. You slowly step into the room and gasp in horror. The floors and walls are covered in blood. It looks like an entire massacre took place here. You walk further into the room and ignore the way the blood soaks into your silk slippers, seeping between your toes.

Eunuch Ki follows quietly behind you. There are several servants scrubbing the floors and walls, trying to remove the pools of blood around the room. You ignore them all, your eyes are completely focused on the emperor. He’s staring at a small golden box in his hand. A bloody sword rests near his feet.

“Yoongi.” You whisper the words quietly, but his head snaps up immediately, his eyes focusing on you.

“Beloved.” His eyes light up when he sees you, a beautiful smile spreading across his face. He rushes eagerly towards you. You realize he’s wearing a black robe, patterned with golden dragons, the same design as your dress. The only difference is his robe is stained with fresh blood. His hair is pulled up into a topknot, his black headband in place. Small drops of blood stain his cheeks and neck. He presses the golden box into Eunuch Ki’s hands before cupping your face, his fingers still wet with blood.

“My beautiful bride,” His voice is light, happy, “everything is perfect now that you are here.”

“Perfect?” You whisper and let him take your hands, leading you towards his throne. The golden dragon throne looks intimidating in the blood soaked room. The closer you get to the throne, the stronger the scent of blood becomes. You feel light headed, your stomach churning at the smells permeating the air.

“I.. I need to sit down.”

Yoongi looks at you concerned and immediately has you sit on his throne, “Are you alright, my love? Do you need some tea?”

“No,” You sit quietly. You feel sick, you feel sweaty, you can barely catch your breath, “I just need a moment.”

You close your eyes trying to center yourself. You know something terrible happened here, there is so much blood it looks like a battlefield. You're grateful that the bodies have already been removed, you don't know how you would have handled a room full of corpses. You take a few deep breaths and open your eyes, meeting Yoongi's bright gaze.

“I have a gift for you.” Yoongi takes the golden box from Eunuch Ki, “I wanted to surprise you with it this evening, but you are here now. My beautiful girl.”

You stare at the golden box stained with blood. You take it from Yoongi with trembling hands. Yoongi is vibrating with excitement next to you. You can feel the pressure behind your eyes signaling that you are about to cry. You blink repeatedly, holding back your tears.

You slowly open the box and stare at the contents. Yoongi holds your hands around the golden box, making sure you can’t drop it. You swallow the scream bubbling in your throat and meet his eyes. Dark, crazed, unhinged eyes overflowing with love for you. Love and madness.

You look back at your gift. Dead, lifeless eyes stare back at you. Concubine Nam’s eyes. Yoongi kneels obediently at your feet, soaking his robe in more blood. Blood from Concubine Nam. Blood from the rest of the harem.

You can’t stop the tears from dripping down your cheeks.

“They are all gone. Just like you asked.” Yoongi stares at you with reverence, his eyes sparkling, “I told you I would do anything for you.”

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts suga x reader #yandere!yoongi x reader #emperor!yoongi x reader #bts fanfiction #yandere!yoongi #emperor!yoongi #yandere!bts #bts smut #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #bts suga #bts #reader insert

8K notes · View notes

ponds-of-ink · 3 years ago

Note

I wonder how Dr. Pinkie and miss pie would interact with Dr. Sparklestein (and her creature, also I get the feeling that twilight sparklestein is in her "modern prometheus" phase.), Count rainbow dash (I hope miss pie doesn't try and fight her. Miss pie may have super strength but I get the feeling the vampire pony queen is much more powerful. Plus let's be honest miss pie and count rainbow dash would probably get along.), captain Megan and captain Danny (I feel like both Megan and Danny from G1 would work very well as captain memo, they both have similarities to him and it would be neat plus Megan deals with magical artifacts in my little pony the original series and Danny is also shown to be good at making traps both things captain memo does, plus the two human kids are good strategists, also considering the rest of the crew is ponies it explains how kids got a sub since non of the ponies knew they are kids. Although Dr pinkie would probably figure that at. Plus bye this point the two captains probably have a great reputation. I wouldn't try to take their sub. PS squirk is the giant squid/octopus, I forgot Wich it was in a thousand leagues under the sea.), And the version of Fluttershy that has a thing for the phantom (the phantom of the opera Fluttershy, I forgot her name.). Sorry this is so long.

No, it’s all right! This is a pretty interesting analysis. Not sure about the G1 characters, since I’m not well-versed in them, sorry.

Now, as for the four ponies? One word: Chaos.

Miss Pie would be jumping around the walls, thrilled to have three more “victims”. Sparkenstein would be analyzing each and every one of them, being very curious about how they came to be. Count Monte Rainbow would attempt to be polite, but also contemplating whether or not to add any of them to the Revenge List.

As for Phantom of the Opera Fluttershy? Depends on which Fluttershy you’re referring to. Fluttershy as Christine? Interested in all these new ponies, but low-key homesick. Phantom-Shy? Seemingly aloof, not having any of this. Probably just wants to go home, tbh.

#ink potts #inkpotts #the count of monte cristo #phantom of the opera #dr jekyll and mr hyde #mlp au

8 notes · View notes

ourloveisforthelovely · 4 years ago

Text

Princess Part 13

Harry Potter AU

Link to Part 12

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Rating: M- smut, rough sex, kinks

Credit to Supernatural- the first bit is borrowed from the show because its fitting for Sirius and Regulus

_______

Sirius woke up to the lovely sound of someone throwing up in the bathroom. Getting out of bed, Sirius walked down the hall and peeked in the doorway to see Regulus on his knees with his head practically in the toilet.

“You look hungover. Reg, you have some tolerance.”

Regulus groaned upon hearing his brother’s voice. Sirius was the last person that he wanted to deal with. He would have preferred that it was you ready to pamper him until the pain in his stomach stopped.

“It's more like a curse.”

Regulus replied. He was annoyed that he literally had to drink a shit ton of booze to be able to feel anything. Why in the hell did he have to get straight shit faced in order to get a decent night's sleep without nightmares?

Sirius carefully looked his brother’s extremely pale form over carefully before speaking again.

“You look sick.”

Regulus wanted to congratulate his brother on stating the obvious but maybe it was Sirius' strange way of being caring.

“Brandy tastes just as bad coming up as it does going down.”

Regulus replied. Sirius smirked deciding to go in with a bit of revenge on Regulus for making you worry so much.

“You know there's a really good cure for a hangover. It's a greasy pork sandwich served up on a dirty ashtray.”

Regulus groaned in misery before throwing up all over again.

“I hate you.”

He groaned. Sirius grinned, getting the result that he wanted the most.

“Yeah, I know you do. Better perk up, Y/n stepped out to have her hair done. She said she wanted to try to put a smile on your face. None of us have smiled much lately.”

Regulus groaned as he sat back against the bathroom wall. Sirius was definitely right on that one. Since moving in with Sirius and Remus, things had been tense. Regulus knew that he had been a lot “shorter” than normal but you seemed to be letting things slide.

Both of you were tense from “laying low.” Not being able to live your normal lives was difficult. Regulus had pretty much given up everything that he knew. The two of you were no longer going on lavish dates and being a death eater was pretty much over. Regulus didn’t mention it to you but he felt almost directionless.

Don’t let her see you be weak.

That was the one little bit of advice that Orion had given his son when it came to relationships.

You are the man in the relationship. Y/n doesn't need to see you be weak. She needs you to be the strong and confident men that you are supposed to be.

Orion’s advice had been helpful for most of Regulus’ life when it came to his relationship with you. He figured that was why things worked out the way that they did. He was trained on how to be the “Black family-approved” husband and you were the “Black family-approved” wife.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

Regulus muttered as he stood up to freshen himself up. Sirius didn’t move from his place by the door as Regulus looked at his normally neat and tidy appearance. Today, however, Regulus' hair was a mess and he had what looked like a light five o’clock shadow forming.

“You should probably take a shower and comb your hair.”

Sirius suggested. Regulus ran a hand through his messy curls before turning back to his brother.

“Bye Sirius!”

(meanwhile)

You sat in the beautician’s chair as she worked on your hair.

“You’re going to be lovely. I’m glad to hear that you have gotten back with Regulus.”

The beautician, Kendra, said with a happy smile. She seemed to miss the way that your mouth dropped at the comment. You hadn’t mentioned to Kendra anything about your relationship with Regulus to her.

“Excuse me?”

You questioned. Kendra smiled from over the chair.

“I spoke with Emma a few weeks ago. She said the two of you had broken up over you having pre-wedding jitters. How were you able to move past Regulus and Emma’s affair?”

Your mouth dropped at that comment. Just what was Emma Rosier telling people?

“There was no affair between Regulus and Emma. It sounds like she is just running her mouth. Between you and me, it sounded like Emma was doing a lot of talking that made no sense. I think that your cousin’s death hit her a little harder than expected.”

You wanted to feel sorry for Emma at the moment but you couldn’t. She was dealing with her pain but wanting to cause you more. You had, at one point, wanted to feel sorry for her but you wasn’t now.

“She’s gone batshit and if you see her feel free to let her know.”

Arriving back home, you were still fuming over Emma. You had been so lost in your own world that you didn’t notice Regulus sitting on the couch with his shirt halfway unbuttoned. He raised an eyebrow when you didn’t notice his current “state.” Normally, if you saw him with his shirt halfway undone you took it an invitation for a good afternoon fuck.

“You seem a bit distracted.”

Regulus’ said as he noticed the distracted expression on your face. You looked at him like a deer in the headlights as Regulus stood up. Holy, fuck when was the last time that you had seen Regulus looking like this?

He stood looking at you with the Black family scowl on his face as he raised an eyebrow at you. Blinking, your eyes fell down his body. You could see a little bit of his chest and the way that he had his shirt sleeves rolled up made the desperate lover within you ache. Had it really been so long since you had seen Regulus look like this? He looked just like the man that you had fallen in love with.

“Reggie…”

“You look pretty...very pretty...fucking gorgeous actually.”

You blushed as Regulus closed the gap between your bodies and cupped your cheek. He smiled before tilting your face to his. Leaning down for a kiss, he let his tongue caress your bottom lip before pulling away. Regulus made sure to make the kiss as teasing as possible. He wanted you as sexually frustrated as he felt.

“You’re such a pretty little love. What would you like, sweetheart?”

You batted your eyes before contemplating if you should give Regulus a sweet response or just be blunt. After a moment of deciding, you decided to go with the latter.

“My pussy could use some company.”

Regulus gave her a devilishly delicious grin. He wrapped his hands around your waist and yanked your body against his.

“Then go upstairs and be waiting for me naked. I’m going to fix myself a drink and I will join you momentarily.”

“Yes, sir.”

You said before turning and running up the stairs. As quickly as possible, you undressed down to your bra and knickers. Your hands had barely undone the clasp of your bra when Regulus walked into the bedroom with a drink in his hand. You were immediately curious if it was just water or if he had alcohol in his hand. Going with the latter, you decided Regulus was probably drinking...

“Now I thought that I made myself very clear. I am sure that I told you to be naked. I still see knickers on your ass. Now get over here, I am going to put you across my knee for not doing as you were told, little girl.”

Regulus sat down on the small sofa that was in the corner of the bedroom. He spread his legs enough to give you a bigger surface to lay on. You did as you were told and lay across Regulus’ laps. Involuntarily, you raised your ass up a bit as Regulus’ hand gently rub over your cheek.

“I don’t know why you have to be so naughty. I wanted to bring you upstairs and make sweet gentle love to you but now I want to play hard.”

Before you could respond, Regulus’ hand moved from gently rubbing to crashing against your ass with a loud POP. The pain felt so damn good! You began to squirm in hopes to put some pressure on your swollen clit. Rubbing against Regulus’ thigh provided some comfort but it wasn’t enough. Regulus held you in place so you wouldn’t be able to give yourself too much relief. The pleasure stopped as soon as it began. Regulus noticed the wet spot on his dress pants

“Oh, princess, look what you did. Now how are you going to fix this? I rather liked these jeans.”

You slid off of Regulus’ lap and settled between his legs. Meeting his gaze for permission, you waited until he raised an eyebrow as if asking what the hold up was? Your skilled fingers unbuckled his belt before moving to ease his dress pants down his slender hips.

Regulus was hard as a rock when you finally freed his cock from his pants.

“May I?”

You asked with a sweet smile. If you were sweet as pie, Regulus would let you do whatever you wanted.

“Go on.”

Regulus replied. You gently took Regulus into your mouth and sucked eagerly at the head of of cock. Regulus sighed before swearing under his breath. He reached down and stroked his hand through your hair.

“You always know how to touch me. I could never want another. You will always be my only one, princess.”

When your eyes fluttered open and met him you silently agreed to the sentiment returning your own promise of love. Regulus let you continue with the blowjob for a moment before saying,

"Enough! Get on the bed and on your back.”

You didn’t wait for Regulus to tell you twice before getting on the bed and spreading your legs wide. Slowly, you slipped your hand down your body to stroke over your clit and tease your entrance.

“Harder, Reggie.”

Regulus was unbuttoning his shirt but stopped hearing you moan his name. It was Regulus’ turn to look like a deer in the headlight but he quickly recovered.

“Naughty girl.”

Regulus replied before kneeling down on the floor. He reached up and yanked you to him by your thighs. Draping your legs over his shoulders, Regulus buried his face between your legs. He inhaled your scent before pressing a soft kiss to your mound before turning to your thigh. Without thinking about what he was doing, Regulus sucked a love bite onto your tender skin. He planned on marking you up so everyone would be able to see.

You cried out from under him. The moment that your fingers tangled in his curls, Regulus groaned. You messing with his hair would forever be his weakness. He remained motionless before resuming his licking. You began to feel the pleasure mounting. With each moment the tension in your legs and your cries let Regulus know how close you were to coming. He gave you one brief moment of no contact before engulfing your clit. Regulus sucked on it relentlessly until your body writhed with pleasure. When you finally came, Regulus remained in place licking whatever you had to give him.

Regulus slowly stood up, unable to wait anymore. He had to have you. There would be no more waiting! Regulus positioned you onto your side as he sat up on his knees. Placing your leg up the length of his chest and over his shoulder, Regulus lowered enough to push his cock into your waiting pussy.

“Damn it.”

Regulus growled as he sat up a steady pace that left both of you moaning each other’s names. Flipping his now messy curls back, Regulus let his head fall back as your body began to tighten around his.

You weren’t even able to say that you were coming as your orgasm hit you. Regulus’ eyes snapped open wide.

“Fuck, princess. You’re going to suffocate my cock...keep going.”

Regulus pounded you through your orgasm until he felt his building.

"Oh my god, I can't hold it,"

He said through clenched teeth. Regulus’ pace quickened as his balls slapped against your ass. He gave you a few more quick deep thrusts then his whole body stiffened and froze on the brink of what was quite possibly the best orgasm that he had in a long time. Unable to hold back any longer, he exploded inside of you.

When the waves subsided, Regulus collapsed on top of you. He smiled when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders trying to preserve the close contact. Regulus wasn’t about to pull away. He wanted to keep his cock inside of you. Between your body being nice and warm and hopes of a round two, withdrawing made no sense.

Regulus’ peaceful state was ruined when there was a knock on the door.

“Mother fucking hell.”

Regulus grunted as he pulled out of you and reached for an abandoned towel to wrap around his waist. He hoped that whoever was on the other side of the door didn’t mind being greeted by his naked self with love bites all over his neck.

Cracking the door, Regulus frowned seeing Sirius on the other side. His older brother’s eyes widened seeing Regulus’ current state. Sirius didn’t expect Regulus with only a towel around his waist to open the door. He had a feeling that if he looked further in the room he would see you butt booty naked waiting for Regulus to come back.

“First off, gross. Second, I have some bad news...dad was found dead. It looks like death eaters did it. I have a feeling that this is tied in with our old buddy Emma Rosier.”

Regulus’ mouth dropped.

“I’ll be downstairs in five minutes.”

_______

@amelie-black @regulusheadcanons @truly-insatiable @realgaytrash @sunles @fific7 @val-sixx @mimisparkle12 @teletubiswszpilkach @spiderxalmighty @criminalyetminimal @whymyparentscheckmyphone @hazncalsgal @bennyberry @jessyballet @knreidy1 @rubyroscoe1 @acciosiriusblack @lucasfilms77 @exhsle @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @hankypranky @fandom-trash-worth-it @summer-novak @marichromatic @emiwrites3reads @shaylybaby2032 @li0nh34rt @tas898 @stuckinsaudi1 @untoldshortsofthefandoms @sprnaturallover @shitfaceddaniel @deanwherescas @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner

138 notes · View notes

kitkat1003 · 4 years ago

Text

Tower Tales

2: The world doesn't want them. If Scratchy was a competent therapist, he might ask "How does that make you feel?"

Or: Wakko Almost Died, and they’ve got issues about it

@asilcorner I finally learned how to write Dot lol

Also this is a sequel pls read the first here

Yakko doesn't know anger.

Not well. He doesn't lose his temper often, doesn't find himself raging over little things, but this.

This makes him furious.

It settles in his chest and burns and he wants to scream, but there's no private place to do it. Wakko and Dot would hear, and the last thing he needs is their concern. They're in the same boat, they feel the same as him, he knows they're hurting too.

The world abandoned them, left them for dead, and they're just kids. They don't know what to do here.

Yakko has managed, in the few months-3 and half, 3 and half months and it feels like an eternity- they've been trapped here, to figure out how to make things, objects, beds. Wakko makes them better, actually, and Yakko is proud, but a part of him wonders if he's even useful, then.

He has his words, he supposes. He can soothe and snark and crack jokes with ease, lifting the heavy air that seems to swallow them whole any time they look towards the bolted shut door.

Yakko already has plans. He can figure them a way out of here. They can make a door, or use heat to melt the metal, or any sort of avenue in that regard. He just needs to get the ability. And, once they're out, they can wreak havoc. He's sure a parent would have told him that Revenge isn't a worthy pursuit, but he doesn't have a parent, does he?

And any facsimile thereof was fine with getting rid of them, so who needs parents anyway?

They've made themselves a bed-at first, they'd considered a bunk, but the idea of not having each other close enough to touch makes them all more uncomfortable than they're willing to admit, so they decide on a King Size bed instead.

God, Yakko missed blankets and a mattress.

At night, he slips out from beneath the covers, ruffling Wakko's hair and planting a kiss on Dot's forehead. He heads to the farthest end of the tower from the bed and runs a hand down his face and sighs.

It's funny to cry comically loud, but Yakko doesn't want to wake up his sibs, so he learns to be quiet as hot, angry, hurt tears fall down his face. He wants to rage and scream, he wants to tear the world to pieces word by word, but that is isn't funny. So he swallows it down like a bitter pill and learns how painful it can be to be mature.

He swears, when he gets them out of here, it'll be for good. His family deserves that much, at least.

He doesn't think he deserves it, though. Not that he'll say. He let the world trap the 3 of them in here, he let this happen. Why does he deserve to see the sun again?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko doesn't feel the fear of almost dying until a few days after he almost does.

They have a food stash now. Yakko is insistent, as Wakko learns how to make food appear, that they have extra just in case. What if Wakko loses the ability, what if he's too tired, too weak. What if Yakko and Dot aren't there to help?

The last excuse is so weak that Wakko hardly acknowledges it, because there's no way Dot or Yakko wouldn't be there for him.

Unless they got tired of him. A toon that needs to eat? Pathetic right?

Wakko knows what he's doing, anyway. He can make other types of food now, instead of just pie. He doesn't need to be babied, doesn't need to be take care of like he's too young to take care of himself.

He expects Dot to temper Yakko's mother-henning, but she's uncharacteristically silent on the matter. She even starts following him around, practically dragging him to get food when she thinks he hasn’t eaten enough in a day.

Wakko feels the fear of almost dying in the night, when he's supposed to be falling asleep. He stares up at the cold metal walls and ceiling and imagines closing his eyes and never opening them. He doesn't remember a lot from that day, remembers waking up to his limbs twitching and jerking without him being able to stop them, flashes of consciousness, Dot and Yakko screaming. He doesn't have a grasp on the timeline, everything fuzzy and unclear, and it adds to the fear. He woke up to the taste of banana cream on his tongue, exhausted and somehow blessedly full, and before he could even say a word he was hugged so tight it hurt.

The explanation he was given makes him wonder. How could he be sure to be safe again? What if they hadn’t figured it out?

What would they have done with his body? Would they have moved it to a small spot towards the edge of the tower, backs turned to it day after day as they waited and tried to escape? If they had escaped, would Plotz have been delighted to know that the most physically troublesome of the trio was truly out of his hair?

At least Dot and Yakko can talk their way out of things. Wakko makes messes and has no words to clean them up. It’s kind of pathetic, how dumb and tongue tied he can be, and now he’s not even physically normal, for a toon. Dot and Yakko must think him terribly annoying to take care of.

He imagines himself, still as the grave, the first toon to die of starvation. What a legacy. Dying with only his siblings around him, in a small water tower he was imprisoned in. Imprisoned in because he was a nuisance. And he hardly even talked. He got yelled at for eating random stuff, but he was hungry. And clearly it was for a reason, considering he almost died because he couldn’t eat because they locked him in here with his siblings to rot, and-

He doesn’t realize he’s trembling until he feels Yakko shift, next to him, disturbed by his movements. Wakko hops out of bed, and heads to their kitchenette. It’s small, but it’s one of the first things they knew they’d need when turning the tower into a home. They moved the food stash in there, in a pantry that says “For Emergencies” on it. He contemplates going through it and leaving it empty, but Yakko already looks like he’s going to get gray hairs. Wakko won’t add to that. He pulls out the milk and pours it into a glass before setting it in the microwave. He starts the timer for a minute and then grabs a sandwich from the mini fridge as he puts the milk jug away.

Good food and drink are always a remedy for terror, right?

When he’s done absolutely demolishing the kitchen, picking the shelves clean of anything edible, he stumbles back to bed, content to ignore his thoughts for a night.

It seems Yakko got up too, at some time. The blanket is ruffled in a specific way.

It’s funny how, despite them getting up at similar times, they never seem to catch each other. Wakko thinks, as he falls asleep, that’s probably why they never talk about it at all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dot is cute. She knows this. She knew it from the moment she was drawn, that she would be adorable, the absolute most cutest toon in the world, with no contenders to take her spot.

But evidently, being cute doesn’t do much in the world she was made in, because she’s in the same spot as her brother’s, locked in a tower for forever.

She’d started doubting that the whole ‘Lock the Warner Siblings in the Water Tower’ thing was a joke far earlier than Yakko had. Yakko hadn’t wanted to believe the world could be so mean, but she’s a pretty girl actress in Hollywood. She knows exactly how disgusting the world can be, just in her first few weeks in it. She’d entertained the idea for a week or so, of it being a joke, but as a month and a half passed she gave up, just a little.

But it wasn’t enough to soften the blow of knowing that Wakko could die without anyone caring besides Yakko and herself.

Yakko had been asleep when it started, but she’d been practicing ballet dances when Wakko’s body began to twitch and jerk without reason, a startled gasp escaping from his lips before he went terrifyingly silent. She’d ran to Wakko’s side, screaming for him, and then for Yakko, because Wakko was so pale he was light gray and he looked so weak.

And she’d seen his hunger, hadn’t she? Waved it off as if he were just complaining, when he had a genuine problem. But Yakko thought of the solution, Yakko saved him, and she’d only watched.

Some sister she was.

Yakko institutes changes immediately afterwards, throwing himself into learning how to make objects that they can use to make the Tower a place to live instead of an empty room, and despite the fact that she doesn’t like being told what to do she says nothing, because she’ll do anything to keep that deep terror from gripping her again.

She doesn’t realize it, but she’s being clingy. She hovers. She follows Wakko and frowns when he doesn’t eat for too long-in her opinion. He says he’ll eat when he’s hungry, but that’s not enough. He needs to eat before he’s hungry, so that way he’ll never be hungry, and then he’ll never be that sick again.

And then she can stop waking up crying, dreaming of a world where Wakko isn’t there at all, just a still body on the metal floor, and Yakko is yelling at her for minimizing, because she made it seem less than it was, so it’s her fault, and Wakko is dead and it’s her fault and the corpse turns to dust and he’s gone and it’s her fault-

She’s dragging him to the kitchen one day, because he hadn’t eaten for four hours, and her heartbeat is a rapid fire pace in her chest, and he pulls away from her.

“I’m not hungry, Dot. I’ll eat in a bit, promise. What’s your deal?” Wakko is so rarely annoyed at her or Yakko enough to make a fuss, but he clearly is now, and the fear that tightens her chest whirls her around and makes her shout.

“I’m not watching you die again!” She shouts back, and Yakko’s head whips in her direction from the chair he’s sitting in, and Wakko looks stunned. She’s trembling, she realizes, and her vision is blurry from tears.

Wakko is so, so gentle as he comes close, reaching up to wipe her tears from her eyes.

“I-uh-sorry, Dot, I didn’t mean-,” She pushes his hands away, The last she needs is an apology from him because he almost died, as if that was his fault.

“No, no, don’t-I just,” She buries her face in her hands. “It was so scary-and-and you act like it doesn’t matter!” She shouts, fists clenched, and Wakko takes a step back.

“It does-I just-food is hard to get down when I’m not hungry-and,” Yakko places a hand on her shoulder, from behind, and the action makes her jolt and quiets Wakko. She watches him fidgets with the long sleeves of his sweater, anxious, and she hates herself for making him feel so unsure.

“When he’s hungry, it’s his body telling him he needs food, sis,” Yakko’s voice is very soft, and he kneels down to her eye level, talking to her plainly with his eyes looking into hers. “Eating before that time could make him feel sick, and he could throw up what he eats, which would at the very least be unsanitary,” He chuckles to himself a little, and she smiles at the quip, before he continues. “That’s probably why he isn’t eating 24/7 right now. Plus, he was slowly starving himself before then because we didn’t know better,” he says we, and she wonders if he knows that she blames herself solely, and is saying that to make her feel better, “so his body isn’t used to having food around. He’ll get his appetite back up. Promise,” Everything he says makes sense, but she’s still terrified.

“But-,” What if that’s not enough? What if he eats too late? What if it happens again?

“I’ve been making sure he’s eating enough,” Yakko continues, cutting her rebuttal off. “3 meals a day at least. I make him breakfast in the morning, when you’re still asleep. I know how much he’s eating, and I’ll make sure it never gets like that again. So, if you’re still worried, just trust me with this, okay?” He smiles, and when he phrases it like that, she can do nothing but agree.

“Okay,” She manages to get out, and Yakko pulls her into a hug. She cries into his shoulder, hiding her face because crying isn’t cute, and he rubs her back, whispering comforting words into her ear.

When he lets go, Wakko pulls her in, and his sweater is very soft. She buries herself into it, and he doesn’t complain about the snot and tears she’s likely getting on it.

“Sorry for worrying you,” he says. “I’ll try to eat more.”

She feels so silly, and so very small, and so very dumb, making her brothers worry like this.

“Don’t make yourself sick,” She lets out a wet giggle, wiping her eyes as Wakko lets her go.

Yakko cooks dinner, and makes her one of her favorites. She watches Wakko eat three times the amount she does, and she feels satisfied.

That night, she doesn’t sleep for a long time. She has too many thoughts in her head. She turns, and she sees Wakko and Yakko, sleeping soundly. Wakko looks healthy, but she can’t forget how he looked then.

She can’t let herself fall apart over this. Yakko worries enough, and Wakko almost died. The last thing they need is an overemotional sister breaking down all the time.

Maybe that’s why the world let her get locked up. She’s cute, but it doesn’t matter if she’s too over the top. An emotional woman is an unattractive one. There’s nothing cute about crying, after all.

She resolves herself to be better, and the next morning she wakes up to have breakfast with her brothers, and doesn’t let her smile slip an inch.

#animaniacs #animaniacs 2020 #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner #kitkat1003 #yakko wakko and dot #Kitkat learns how to write Dot more at 11 #period typical sexism #women shouldn't be emotional or theyre not attractive right?#what a time lol

148 notes · View notes

angrylizardjacket · 3 years ago

Text

dirtbags // 2: Lola

Summary: High school AU, 1984, Winter. It’s hard to make friends when you’re the new kid starting halfway through Junior year, but slowly Lola seems to be making a few. It’s much easier to have a rumour started about you, especially when you tend to make questionable choices at parties, but that’s much less fun.

A/N: 8173 words. Lola’s dad is the MVP, trust me. i meant to put this out a week ago whoops!! also im allowed to reference my own Queen oc as a treat. @bluehourmotel, @misscharlottelee and again, interludes are A Softer World quotes.

[ m a s t e r p o s t ]

the best revenge is living well. the second best revenge is fire ants.

The fact that after being in town for a total of two weeks, Lola’s closest friend is the gas station attendant a full fifteen minute drive away from her house is kind of sad. Not that she’s disappointed to be Mick’s friend, he’s got a dry sense of humor but a good heart and he’s refreshing honesty, but she’s been at this new school for about a week and a half, has already made out with at least one person, has possibly convinced said-person’s cousin that she’s trying to corrupt him, and started to make a name for herself - whether it’s good or bad is yet to be seen -, and yet Mick Mars, nineteen-year-old gas station attendant, apprentice electrician, and aspiring guitar player is her closest friend.

But she’s always been kind of terrible at making friends her own age.

“You have lost all respect from me,” Mick told her on Monday morning after the party, over the counter of the gas station as he’s ringing her up for her smokes and iced coffee before she went to school, “you could have picked anyone to mack on at that party, and you chose Tommy fuckin’ Lee?”

“He was nice to me, what was I meant to do?” Lola declared, realizing too late that that statement revealed absolutely too much about herself to a near stranger. Mick, however, just gives her a flat look.

“You need higher standards.” He doesn’t seem too phased by her. Lola takes this in stride, and nods, agreeing with a sigh.

“What time do you finish work?” She asks, changing the subjects quickly as she’s pulling out a bill from her back pocket, “dad said he’s happy to let you have a look at that weird light switch that doesn’t do anything that I was telling you about.”

“I finish at ten tonight, I’m working a double,” he groans at the very thought of it. Lola gives him a sympathetic look, and tells him to only come around if he’s up to it, otherwise leaving it for another day.

That’s the day that Lola realises the whole school knows about her and Tommy at the party, that she has Art with Charlotte before lunch, and also that Charlotte can’t look her in the eye.

Tuesday the school realises that she’s not just Lola Who Gives It Up For Free At Parties, but that she’s Lola The New Girl and that they don’t know anything about her beyond that. There’s a guy in her wood working class with long black hair and a dangerous smile that winks at her; she flips him off, knowing all he cared about was knowing if the rumours were true. She’s got AP French last period with that ginger from the party who wouldn’t stop laughing, Eileen; she’s a lot more serious, sober. The cheerleader, Heather, won’t stop giving her these weird, calculating looks.

Wednesday there’s a new rumour, that she was expelled from her last school. The population of the school hasn’t decided what exactly they think she was expelled for yet. Turns out she has English with that guy from her woodworking class, he just hadn’t turned up for their lesson on Monday; he sits at the back like Lola, in the other corner, and the teacher calls him Nikki in a tone like she’s already disappointed. Lola can see why, he fell asleep at his desk. Art last period with Charlotte; she still barely looks at Lola.

Thursday. Heather asks in AP French if Lola’s heard what everyone’s saying about her; her tone is sweet and dangerous in equal measure and Lola doesn’t trust what’s about to come out of her mouth. The new rumour is that Lola was expelled for sleeping with a teacher; something about the glint in Heather’s eye is cruel, and Lola asks her sweetly if she’s more jealous of Lola or the teacher. That shuts Heather up fast, and Eileen’s cough behind them sounds more like she’s trying to hide a laugh. But it still gets to her; Lola focuses so hard on ignoring the girls gossiping loudly about her at their station behind her in Home Economics that she burns the apple danishes she was attempting, and she throws the burnt pastries, and the tray they’d been cooking on, into the bin until she realises her mistake and sulkily fishes the tray out again. Thankfully, the teacher didn’t notice.

Friday, and Lola hasn’t paid much attention to Vince, whose house she’s been to but who she hadn’t properly met until their classes had P.E at the same time; he’s in the year below her, but still manages to sidle up to her while they’re both waiting for their teachers to prepare the field for whatever torture they’re masquerading as physical exercise today. She tells him to fuck off; there’s something about the way he conducts himself that she doesn’t like, like he’s putting on a show of being shallow and vain and the life of the party. Instead, Vince’s voice goes quiet and he tells her that Tommy’s a good kid with a good heart -

“You give this speech to everyone you caught making out at your parties, or just me, ‘cos you think I’m a bitch and I’m gonna hurt one of ‘your bros’?” She snapped, lip curling, and Vince’s brow creases into a frown, “I’m not his fucking girlfriend, we made out a little, you don’t have to act like I’m going to break his heart, so piss off.”

A moment passes, and he appears to don his shallow, playboy mask when he asks her slyly if the rumours are true. She shoves him hard enough that he skitters back a few feet, and Lola earns her first after school detention.

The thing is, she and Tommy are already on the same page about this, it was a what happens while drunk at a party stays at that party. Or at least, it’s meant to. Either way, Charlotte’s protectiveness, and Vince’s... attempt at protectiveness was unwarranted. Maybe it’s because Tommy, for whatever reason, has started hanging around Lola at lunch.

She doesn’t sit in the cafeteria like the rest of them, or even on that little section of the roof the intimidating pack of punks, rockers, and smokers have found a way to get to. Lola sits against the fence near the science building, close to the carpark that’s always open for some stupid reason, as though she’s contemplating bolting.

“Don’t you have friends?” Lola’s tone is kind of hard, and perhaps her words are on the nose, and a little cruel, but it’s Wednesday, and this is the third day in a row he’s found her and spent the entirety of lunch with her. They don’t speak much, Lola smokes and picks apart whatever her dad’s latest cooking experiment is before she eats it, and Tommy practices twirling his drumsticks.

“I have friends, do you?” Tommy responds, more than a little defensive, rubbing at his brow where he’d just managed to hit himself mid-drumstick-twirl, taken aback by her question. Lola gives him a flat look. “Someone told me you were expelled from your last school,” Tommy’s gaze shifts to the carpark, to the last car and it’s telltale rocking and fogged up windows.

“They say why?”

“Nah,” Tommy shakes his head, scowl softening as he gets back to practicing, “it true?” Lola’s picking out and eating the apple chunks from the slice of pie her father had packed for the day, still watching the car with the mildest of interest. She shakes her head. Tommy hums noncommittally. They spend the rest of lunch in silence.

“He keeps hanging out with me!” The following afternoon, Lola gripes to Mick on his smoke break after she gets out of school for the afternoon.

“You keep hanging out with me,” Mick points out, peeling the label off of a bottle of soda.

“And?”

“I don’t tell you to fuck off.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Because,” and Mick heaves a heavy sigh, like it pains him to admit, “we’re friends, Lola,” but he pauses and amends, “God knows why.”

“Fuck you, I’m a delight,” Lola huffs, and pulls her oversized denim jacket tighter around herself to ward off the chill of the afternoon breeze. If this were pretty much any other state, they’d be knee-deep in snow; thank God for LA, snow’s pretty for five minutes before it’s a pain.

“Do you tell him to fuck off?” Mick asks pointedly, as if exhausted that he has to spell it out for her. Lola’s quiet, but her answer’s clear. Mick clears his throat with a cough. Lola’s scowl deepens.

She brings it up to her father that night.

“Do you reckon Tommy’s trying to be my friend?” She asked, gaze intense as she focuses on slicing apples into little cubes. Leo, her father, who was kneeding a blend of spices into a ball of dough that would end up being a pie crust, paused.

“The kid who has been hanging out with you at lunch?” He thought for a moment, “the one from the party?”

“I told him it was nothing serious-” Lola tried, exasperatedly cutting the apples a little rougher, but her father’s warm, gentle laugh cut her off.

“Yes, I think he’s trying to be your friend,” he told her, which Lola hadn’t exactly wanted to hear, but the information was easier to digest coming from him than it was coming from Mick, “he obviously likes you -”

“But I told him -”

“I know, you told him it wasn’t serious, but dear, that doesn’t mean he likes you less as a person - you’re a very cool cat, I can see why he’d want to be your friend,” he gives her finger guns, and Lola can’t help but laugh softly at his attempt to be hip.

“Christ, dad,” Lola huffs, smiling fondly, but he’d managed to cheer her spirits considerably.

“I burnt my danishes today,” Lola’s voice goes quiet as she goes back to focusing on her task, and her dad makes a noise of intrigue, “got distracted and crisped the whole tray.”

“You’ll get ‘em next time; just fifteen minutes, remember?”

“Fifteen minutes, no distractions,” Lola agreed, almost by rote, thankful that he doesn’t ask about what had distracted her. She can still hear the whispered gossip and giggles that had come from the cooking station behind her in Home Economics.

Her dad knows that her peers think she was expelled from her last school, but she keeps her mouth shut about the fact that today they’d decided it was because she had relations with a teacher; he knows almost everything about her, but he didn’t need to know about a whole school calling her a slut. He’d blow it out of proportion, and it isn’t getting to her since she knew for a fact it wasn’t true.

They finish the apple pie with it’s rosemary and lemongrass crust in good spirits. The flavours don’t go together as well as Leo had hoped, but it’s another step closer to the perfect apple pie he’d been trying for. Leo packs her two of the leftover slices for lunch, as a not-so-subtle hint.

On Friday, Lola hands Tommy a plastic container with a piece of apple pie, with a rosemary and lemongrass crust in it.

“Is it poison?” He asks. Lola doesn’t look at him, picking the individual apple pieces out and eating them one at a time.

“The crust tastes weird if you eat it with the filling,” Lola’s voice is flat as she explains instead of answering, “but the apples are sweet.” She eats another cube of apple, then breaks off a corner of the golden, perfectly cooked crust, now cold and stiff from spending the night in the refrigerator.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“Eat it or don’t, I don’t care,” Lola tells him, hunching further in on herself; like this, she can’t see the way Tommy’s expression has broken out into a smile.

“Thanks Lola,” but the smile is evident in his voice, confirming all of her suspicions at once. Tommy took her at her word when she said the rumours weren’t true, even if the rest of the school believed them, so Lola supposes she’s actually okay with the fact that her second ever friend in the entirety of California is the marching band geek in the year below her who she made out with at a party once.

Also maybe she’s just kind of terrible at making friends.

you and me baby! we are the future! and the future is bleak.

“Wait, you’ve never met Nikki Sixx?” Tommy asked, sitting patiently with his back against the fence, his hand resting on her knee as she fills in the the nails of his left hand with black sharpie, “didn’t you go to his gig the other week?”

“I didn’t know anyone,” Lola pointed out, and Tommy makes a thoughtful noise.

“You’d love him, he’s so fucking cool,” he assured her, which made Lola give pause; Tommy also thinks Vince is fucking cool, and she wants to throw Vince out a window, “he was the one on bass.”

“The one in the leather pants?” Lola couldn’t help but smile at the memory; she’d appreciated it at the time, and could appreciate it now. Tommy, however, rolled his eyes.

“The girls love the leather pants,” he gave a quiet sigh, before adding, almost to himself, “wish I had leather pants.”

“Leather pants would look good on you,” Lola pinches at his thigh for a moment, and goes back to filling in his nails. missing Tommy’s pleased, flustered little smile.

“You know Freddie paints his nails like this,” Tommy says instead, changing the topic of conversation.

“Freddie?”

“Mercury. From Queen; you know Queen, right?” And he sounds kind of skeptical, like if she doesn’t know them, they can’t be friends anymore. Lola pauses again, her hand soft on Tommy’s where she’s filling in around his ring finger’s cuticle.

“I wanna climb John Deacon like a fucking tree,” she mutters, which startles a laugh out of Tommy, his hand jerking up to cover his mouth, making Lola leave a black line against his knee, through the rip in his jeans. When she looks up at him, however, her eyes are shining with mirth, “come on, man, you must have seen the video of them performing in Montreal last year!” And she licks her lips, watching Tommy’s blush grow steadily darker. After a beat, Lola bursts out laughing, shattering the tension and shifting to sit beside him, idly doodling on her own hand with the marker as Tommy shakes his head with amusement.

Lola starts humming Back Chat to herself, and Tommy leans his head back against the wire of the fence, listening for a moment.

“You and Charlie would get along great too,” he considers, and Lola doesn’t stop humming, nor does she look to him, “she likes Roger, but probably just because she thinks he’s pretty.” Lola can hear his eyeroll without even seeing it, and she’s not sure why, but she files that information away in the back of her mind; she’d never gotten an especially shallow vibe from Charlotte, but there was a uncertain undeniable appeal to Roger Taylor’s pretty-boy charm.

“Didn’t his girlfriend leave him for Bowie?” Lola asks mildly, barely pausing to speak between humming notes.

“Rocket Mercury?”

“Her name’s Rocket?” Lola snorts, finally looking at him, and Tommy’s lips twisted into an amused grin.

“Her name’s Ash, but everyone calls her Rocket,” he says, like he’s in the know, and Lola stays quiet, nodding and trying not to laugh, “and yeah, I think so, she’s been with a few people since him I think; Bowie, this girl from this English band Hawkwind, Elton John maybe? Or someone around him I think.” Tommy nods, and Lola’s kind of intrigued as to why he knows so much about Queen’s drummer’s partner, but something else has caught her attention.

“A girl from Hawkwind?” Tommy doesn’t seem to notice the way Lola’s voice has softened, or how her expression has dropped to something carefully neutral. She’s drawing a little flower on the knuckle of her thumb.

“One of their dancers, Stacy, maybe?” Tommy’s own tone is light, like he doesn’t even realise Lola’s hanging onto his every word regarding this one little detail about a woman she doesn’t even know, “was kind of a scandal, but it was years ago; she’s Freddie’s sister after all, maybe it’s genetic.”

“Genetic?”

“Liking girls and guys, you know?” And he pauses. Lola’s frozen beside him, the marker pressed hard against her skin, breath caught in her throat. He throws it out so casually, so easily. Her hands are shaking. The words so kind when he says them, so unlike what she’s used to hearing. Tommy’s already moved on to the next thought. “actually, I’m not sure if Freddie’s like, legit her brother, but anyways, she and Roger are back together; I’m glad.” As if a sixteen-year-old’s opinion on a rock legend’s love life mattered, “he seems happier with her, all his best live shows were when they were together.”

“I’d kill to play half as well as him,” it’s almost wistful when Tommy says it, interrupting Lola’s thoughts, his gaze trained on the sky, as if imagining he’s on stage himself. Lola lets out a long, quiet breath, recentering herself as she looks to him.

“You wanna play drums?”

“I can play drums,” Tommy tells her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but not nearly as good as Roger Fucking Taylor, can you imagine?” But Lola’s more focused on the -

“I thought you just played in the marching band, can you play, like, full -” and she sits forward, gesturing like she’s tapping on a full drumkit, eyes shinning. Suddenly, in the face of her rare, unrestrained smile, Tommy feels himself growing nervous, like he’ll let her down if he’s not actually as good as he thinks he is.

“I’ve got a kit in my garage,” he admits, and Lola pauses, letting her excitement simmer, as though realising it had gotten the best of her, breaking her cool and aloof facade.

“That’s cool as hell,” she does add, however, and Tommy beams.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, all flustered at even the slightest praise, “man, you’d really like Charlie, I know she looks all fancy and intimidating, but she’s a real softie inside.”

“You are really pushing hard for me to be friends with your cousin,” Lola notes, giving him a sidelong glance, and Tommy’s nose scrunches up, caught out.

“She thinks you’re trying to corrupt me,” he grumbles, “but if you guys met she’d know you’re not.”

“I am corrupting you,” Lola smirks, “next week I plan on peer pressuring you into smoking.”

“I’ve smoked before!” Tommy’s up in arms, like the implication that he hasn’t done something as low-level cool as smoking offends him.

“Dude I was kidding, I gave you half my cigarette yesterday,” Lola reminds him, and the bell rings.

While Lola was more than happy to let sleeping dogs lie, it appeared that Charlotte was not, and less than two days after her conversation with Tommy, Lola finds herself sitting by Charlotte’s side in their shared art class.

It’s the last class of the day, and Charlotte’s the one who sits by Lola. There’s no preamble, barely acknowledging the decision, just opening her notebook and focusing on the theory the teacher had already started to jot down on the whiteboard.

When they’re given free time, however, to work on personal projects, Charlotte opens her sketchbook and sharpens her pencil, and without looking at Lola, begins speaking quietly.

“Tommy thinks we’d get along,” Charlotte sounds completely innocent and perfectly harmless, but Lola remember how Charlotte had looked at her, part deer-in-the-headlights startled at the realisation, and knee-jerk protective fury, at Vince’s party when she realised who Lola had been kissing.

“So I’ve heard,” Lola doesn’t look up, but Charlotte’s pencil stills on her paper. After a beat, Lola turns to see Charlotte giving her a curious look. Propping her head up on her hand, Lola gives a thin, amused smile, “he also thinks I’d be good friends with Nikki Sixx; was he the one you yelled at, at the gig?”

Instead of being flustered or going red at the mention of the moment, Charlotte’s expression lights up, as if the idea somehow delights her, and slowly she’s nodding. All her earlier reservations and hostility was quickly leaving her.

“Yeah, actually I told Nikki you reminded me of him, actually -”

“I remind you of Nikki?” Lola’s grin widened, and she shifted to face Charlotte further.

“He’s kind of a tool -” Charlotte blurted after a moment of contemplation, and Lola’s eyebrows raised in amused surprise. Charlotte’s quick to backtrack, “I mean, I’m not saying you are- well, I don’t know you, but I mean, Tommy -” Charlotte frowns at that, expression falling as she considered quietly, “actually, I mean, I love him, but he’s not the greatest judge of character; he thinks Nikki hangs the stars, despite never really speaking to him,” she pauses and heaves a sigh of realisation, “that probably why he thinks so highly of him -”

“I thought they were friends,” Lola’s genuinely surprised, given how kindly Tommy had spoken of him.

“Half the school is terrified of Nikki, half seems to be in love with him; Tommy’s in the second half.”

“And which half are you?”

“I’m the only person who seems to think he’s just kind of a pest,” Charlotte’s response is surprisingly mild, as if she doesn’t quite believe what she’s saying.

“He’s talented, though,” Lola offers, and Charlotte looks back to her, as if brought from her own thoughts. There’s a pause, a lull. Lola puts down her pen, and turns more fully to Charlotte, stretching her arm out over the desk, and resting her head fully on it, like a particularly smug cat stretching out in the sun. Charlotte is slower to put down her pencil, but does so after another moment, pristine fingernails drumming against her sketchbook for a moment.

“He was talented,” Charlotte agreed, thought it sounds like she doesn’t quite want to, “my ex actually got me into his kind of music, he was a fan of Nikki’s too; I’d tell Nikki I enjoy his music but it’d go straight to his ego,” and she casts Lola a sidelong look, lips stretched into a smirk, which Lola returns.

“I am a little bit of a tool,” Lola finally admits with a self deprecating grin, and Charlotte shakes her head.

“You’d fucking love him,” Charlotte tells her, with a strained, sort of resigned huff of laughter, like the concept of them meeting was a little bit horrifying, and already exhausting.

“You like his kind of music,” Lola circled back around to quickly, “never pictured you as a hard rocker, you’re very...” and she trails down, looking at Charlotte’s pristine cheerleading uniform, and thick, black tights, the only thing protecting her legs from the Winter air. The blonde shifts a little uncomfortably under the scrutiny, brow furrowing.

“I know,” Charlotte says flatly, crossing her ankles, far too self aware in the moment, “you expect me to just be listening to nothing but Abba and Madonna all day?” She sneers, suddenly haughty again, and Lola licks her lips, intrigued; she can tell she’s pushed a button, and debates for a moment if she wants to press it further.

“Not all the time,” Lola said, sitting back up slowly, “but I mean, I’m kind of partial to Does Your Mother Know, there’s no shame in loving Abba,” she shrugs, and Charlotte lets herself visibly relax.

“Never pictured you as an Abba fan,” Charlotte actually grins.

There’s a distinct lack of hostility in the air between the two girls by the time the class ends, after spending the entire class gushing over various bands across a surprising range of genres, and Lola quickly finds she appreciates how wrong her initial impression of Charlotte had been.

As they’re leaving for the day, or well, Lola’s leaving, and Charlotte’s heading to cheer practice, the conversation lulls as Charlotte grows thoughtful.

“Hey, just... Tommy’s kind of a hopeless romantic,” and even as she speaks, she knows Lola’s growing irate at Charlotte’s hesitant tone, “and honestly, the girls he goes for usually don’t... they don’t usually give him the time of day, and he obviously thinks the world of you, I just don’t want you to -”

“I’ve told him that I don’t want to date him; he’s the one who keeps hanging around me,” Lola’s own tone appears to surprise Charlotte, now that she understands the root of the other girl’s protectiveness, “we’re...” and the word catches in Lola’s throat for a moment, knowing that speaking it makes it true, “friends.”

Lola glances at Charlotte out the corner of her eye, and sees the way Charlotte’s lips twist into a pleased little smirk.

“I was just making sure.”

love is stupid. happiness is admitting we aren’t better than stupid.

Leo Fields, thirty-nine years old, owner of soon-to-be-named Leo Diner’s in suburban LA, a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, who worked in the luxurious Parker House restaurant in Boston and quit after ten years there, including three years as Sous Chef and one year as Head Chef, only to open his own 50s style diner a mere ten minutes away in Salem, has and will always claim his favourite food is Easy Cheese.

Once, a long time ago, Lola had asked him why.

She’s asked him a lot of things, why he’d left his high-end restaurant to essentially flip burgers, why he kept his hair long, what his tattoos meant -

Lola’s eight, sitting on the counter and swinging her legs while Leo was crushing garlic to add to their dinner, his hair tied back into a large bun atop his head.

“People will try and tell you that just because something is expensive, fancy, or higher class,” Leo had rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at that, putting on a voice to make his daughter laugh, “that it’s better; they are wrong. If something brings you joy, it is better than all things that do not bring you joy, no matter how fancy the things you don’t like are,” he’d told her very seriously, “better is not real, better is what you believe; better for you means healthier, and that’s real, but when people use better to mean good, they mean that it’s good in their mind, and maybe you agree, but maybe you won’t.” And he scrapes the garlic into the pan and oil cooking on low as he then began dicing onions.

“I use all my fancy training and knowledge to make foods I think are better, but now I get to also serve them with a smile, and I get to talk to the people I’m giving the food to, get to know them, let them know they’re welcome here,” he tries to smile while his eyes are watering from the onions, almost finished cutting them. “People in my old fancy restaurant didn’t want that, they wanted you to think they were better than you, and if you thought their food wasn’t good, that’s because you’re not fancy enough, and you’re not welcome here.”

“But that’s wrong,” Lola said with a slight frown, looking to her father for confirmation, and after he wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, he beamed.

“Exactly,” he nodded and scraped the diced onions into the pan too, moving easily about the kitchen to pull mince from the refrigerator, “people liking something different to you is actually great; if everyone in the world liked Easy Cheese, we’d never be able to buy it!” And Lola laughed at that, the example making it easy for her to understand his point, “but making them feel bad for liking those things, that’s bad; that’s why I have my hair long, why I have my tattoos, they’re part of who I am, they’re part of my family’s history and where I come from, and I like them. If someone else is rude to me because of them, then I know right away that’s not someone I want in my life. People like to think they’re better than other people for stupid reasons sometimes.”

“Like if they’re fancy or not?” Lola asks, and Leo gives her a fond smile and nod.

“Like if they’re fancy or not.”

Leo’s not sure if Lola even remembers this, but he does. So when Lola, seventeen years old, standing in the kitchen, eating a ham and Easy Cheese sandwich after school, tells him that Charlotte, the girl in her art class, Tommy-from-the-party’s cousin, complimented her jacket, the pin-and-patch-covered, black, denim, proto-crust-punk, heirloom he’d loaned to her since she’d asked to wear it when starting a new school, and had barely gone a day without it, he can read into her smile even when it’s hidden behind her sandwich.

“Sounds like she has good taste,” Leo leans his hip against the counter top, legs feeling the warmth of the oven where he’s got a loaf of herb and garlic bread baking away.

Lola spends a full twenty minutes enthusing about Charlotte’s taste in music, eyes bright and tone animated. He only interrupts her to hand her a packet of prosciutto and a bundle of asparagus, so she could help him prepare for dinner, but it doesn’t slow her down, hands working quickly, while Leo boiled potatoes and simmered some garlic in butter on a low heat.

Both Lola and Leo know why Lola’s been so hesitant to make friends since moving, and she knows he’d never push her into friendship, but Lola also knows it hurts him to see her lonely.

“Hey dad, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lola says after a long pause, finally taking a breath after she’s finished recounting her day to him, “you know Queen, right?”

“Do I know Queen?” Leo jokingly scoffed, “Lola, I’m the one who introduced you to Queen.” He reminded, and Lola gave a small smile, but her heart wasn’t in it; she wasn’t usually nervous, but talking about this sort of thing still made her heart race a little. Seeing her hesitant expression, Leo’s own softens, and he turns down the potatoes to turn his full attention to her, “what about Queen?”

“I didn’t know Freddie’s sister was with the drummer,” Lola starts, fiddling with the final piece of asparagus. She’s quick to follow it up before she can chicken out, “and I didn’t know... she’s like Bowie, and Fred, and... and me, you know?” Lola finally wraps up the final vegetable and places it on the glass baking tray with the rest, before she looks to her father who was watching her pensively, hoping he understands what she’s trying to say.

“That’s little Rocket Mercury you’re talking about, isn’t it?” He asked as a smile stretched across his lips, “I heard that about her, I always thought she was so cool, she worked on Spinal Tap, you remember I took you to see Spinal Tap a few months ago?”

Lola’s heart eases in her chest at his words, his warmth, the way he seems to reflect positively on the news. While Lola knew she didn’t have anything to worry about, since the whole reason Leo had taken her and moved across the country was her mother’s less-than-kind reaction to the news of Lola dating a girl, the memory of it all still made her nervous.

Leo’s entire face lights up, and he makes a loud exclamation, like suddenly remembering some vital information, snapping Lola out of her dwelling.

“How have I never played you any Dusty Springfield?” He announces, picking up the glass tray from the table and placing it to the side, “I’ve got some of her records in my collection,” the oven timer goes off and he asks Lola to watch the potatoes so they don’t overboil while he takes out the bread and puts the asparagus in, “Dusty’s like you too; she’s a pop-star from the sixties, lovely voice, told the Evening Standard she liked girls and boys all the way back in nineteen-seventy.” He says as he sets the timer for the asparagus, and Lola wraps her arms around him from behind, if only to hide how wide she’s smiling.

“She pretty?” Lola asked, grinning against his soft, woolen sweater. Leo gently pet her hands where they were wrapped around his middle, giving a warm laugh.

“Very; it’s no wonder girls and boys liked her too.”

Lola had never seen her father flinch in the face of change, and for that she would always be grateful for him. The only time she’d ever seen him lose his cool was when he’d come to her defense against her mother’s bigotted views; apart from that, she’d never known anyone more willing to go with the flow.

Take last week, for instance, Mick had taken Saturday off from the gas station to go look at the fixture Lola had mentioned not seemingly connected to anything. Leo had finally had the red and white, checkered floor installed earlier that week, and the booths had been reupholstered over Thursday and Friday in a shiny, inviting, deep peach, to compliment the warm aesthetic completed by the pleasantly sunny walls.

One of the many things about Lola is that she know when people look at her father, they never expect him to be the embodiment of sunshine; six-foot-something, built like a tank from doing a majority of the manual labor around his diners on his own. His traditional, Hawaiian tattoos were on full display today, across his chest, arms, and legs, wearing a singlet and shorts despite it being the middle of winter, after spending all morning hauling an industrial freezer into the kitchen, with what little help Lola could offer. He wears his long, wavy black hair in a ponytail down his back; the only thing that ever betrayed the warmth of his personality was the crows feet by his eyes, the laugh lines around his mouth, and the kindness in his eyes themselves.

Leo Fields, teddy-bear in the body of a GI Joe, took one look at Mick Mars, the weary, rather scrawny teenager with barely any face visible for his long, shaggy, dyed black hair, and gave him a bright smile, ushering him inside. He introduces himself, and immediate asks what kind of music Mick listened to.

“I fucking hate Kiss,” Mick had said immediately, knee-jerk hostility, the way he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other being the only giveaway to how intimidated he felt.

“They can be a lot some times,” Leo had shrugged, gesturing to the jukebox, “I’ve already put a few of my favourites in, you wanna see if anything catches your eye?” Mick moves quietly, as if afraid to make a noise, even stepping in combat boots he barely makes a sound, and Leo makes mention that he’s going to freshen up, and that Lola knows what switch needs to be looked at.

“Hendrix?” Mick says with a hint of pleased surprise, right before Leo leaves, and Lola’s father gives a nod.

“Put it on, man, turn it up loud; it’s Electric Ladyland in there, right?” And at Leo’s question, Mick nods. Leo gives a delighted thumbs up, and heads upstairs to the flat above the diner.

“That’s your dad?” Mick asks, voice low after Leo’s disappeared, hitting play on the Jimi Hendrix record. Lola’s sitting on the counter, swinging her legs; she knows looks like him, same face, same long, dark hair, same copper complexion, it’s usually the staggering difference in their respective physicalities that seemed to trip people up, so his confusion wasn’t a surprise.

“That’s my dad,” Lola agrees, with a slight nod, looking around the warm and inviting diner that still smelled like new vinyl from the seats. She’d light a candle or two later.

Lola knows the rumours going around town about the diner, about how it’s owner was a chef, about how it’s hopefully going to serve better food than the last owners, but also how everyone knew very little about the new owner beyond that. It made her giddy, like she had a secret, to know that her father was capable of blowing their expectations out of the water with his food alone. Back in Salem, Leo’s was known for restaurant-quality food at, well, diner prices. All the fries were hand cut, there was always home made pie or slice or cookies on sale, the beef patties were made with real mince and mixed with Leo’s special blend of herbs and spices, and fish was delivered fresh, daily.

Lola knew her father knew what it was like to be discriminated against based on his looks, and how hard he’d fought to prove his skills as a chef, so in turn, he hired based on attitude and experience, and trying to give those who may not have had a fair shot an opportunity. Leo had always paid well, treated his workers with kindness, and tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. The diner had only ever made a modest profit, despite it’s popularity, but it had never been about the money for her father.

Back at Lola’s old high school, if you were popular, you looked for a job at the mall, but if you were an outcast, a loner, or a stoner, you applied for Leo’s; her dad had the ability to bring out the best in people, no-one wanted to disappoint Leo.

Her dad would never go anything as gauche as brag, but he has always prided himself on the quality of his diner and his food, glad to be putting his years of training and experience to use for people who’s appreciate it.

Mick clears his throat, snapping Lola out of her thoughts.

“Light switch?”

Mick thinks the switch probably connected to an exhaust fan the previous owner had removed, which baffled both Lola and Leo, seeing as how they’d had several exhaust fans installed, and the idea that this place had it’s one removed is unthinkable; how had they ever gotten the smell out?

After, Leo invites Mick up to have a look through his record collection, to recommend some for the jukebox, while he attempted a maple and walnut soufflé.

The moment Mick mentions he wants to join a band, Leo lights up, peppers him with questions, what type of music he likes to play, his influences, what type of band he’d like to form. Seemingly unused to the overwhelming interest and positivity regarding his aspirations, Mick is almost startled into being forthcoming, and quickly warms to Lola’s dad.

While the soufflé’s in the oven, the three of them sit on the roof and smoke, while Leo reminisces about seeing Cream live, a few months after Lola was born, and how he’d swaddled her in his concert shirt, only for her to take a liking to it, and had used it as a blanket up until she started daycare. At hearing this, Lola ducks her head to hide her smile, knowing she still had that shirt, though it was more hole than shirt at this point, hanging in her cupboard.

Occasionally, when she looks to him, Lola sees Mick regarding her with confusion, and okay, maybe she can understand why; he knows her to be reserved and dry, but with Leo, she’s outgoing and talkative and smiles so wide he can see her teeth. There’s barely a hint of her aloof façade around her father, and as Mick spends more time with him, it’s clear he can see why.

“Mick’s cool,” Leo announces with a grin when Mick himself has left, putting foil over the leftover soufflé for later, while Lola washes the few dishes and is more than happy to agree with him.

They spend Sunday decorating the diner, making it look less sparse with photos and hanging and various bits of music and pop culture memorabilia, while the jukebox blared rock and roll. A few people pass by in time to see Lola and Leo in an air guitar competition, but neither of them really care. Leo’s looks more like home by the time the sun goes down.

there will always be someone better than you. but on the bright side, who cares?

Eileen sits next to her in AP French during the entire last week of school for the semester. Everything she does seems so perfectly calculated, this change in seating included, but she refuses to acknowledge it. Heather clicks her tongue, clearly annoyed that Eileen had taken the seat she had previously vacated the day Lola staked her own next to it, and judging by Eileen’s innocent little smile, that alone made it worth it.

Lola tries not to pay too much attention to Heather, pretty, mean, and popular, almost the exact stereotype Lola had assumed Charlotte to be before she’d actually befriended her. They only have French together, but Heather keeps watching her, Lola sees it out of the corner of her eye, but her glare has become more speculative, more thoughtful as the weeks have passed, and Lola’s not quite sure what to make of it. Whatever scathing personal attack Heather’s probably working on is her business, she doesn’t know shit about Lola, so Lola tries not to care.

Once Eileen sits next to Lola, the glare comes back in full force anyhow.

On Thursday, the last AP French lesson for the semester, Eileen offers Lola a stick of spearmint gum, and it feels kind of like a test. Lola takes the gum anyways, and Eileen smiles at her, surprisingly genuine.

“You’re Charlotte’s friend,” Lola says, and Eileen’s smile widens.

“You’re the girl who kissed her cousin,” she says. Lola’s whole expression falls, mouth flattening into a thin, unamused line, ready to go on the defensive.

“And?”

Eileen shrugs, says nothing more on the subject, instead, glancing at Lola’s hands.

“My mom would kill me for wearing black nail polish, but it looks so cool on you,” She says, and Lola bites back a jaded response about her own mother, looking to her own hands, and the fresh and shiny coat of polished she’d applied the night before.

“Your mom kind of sounds like an asshole, if black nail polish is enough to get her riled up,” Lola says, without even thinking about how harsh the words sounded, but once the words are out, she adds, “and I know from asshole moms,” for good measure. Internally, she’s berating herself; if she talks about her mom, she’s terrified that she’s eventually going to answer questions about her mom, like where she was, and why Lola hates her.

“She’s just a perfectionist, and I don’t think black would suit me anyhow, so it’s not really an issue,” Eileen responds, as if she barely cares that Lola implied her mother was an asshole, and Lola lets herself relax a little, “I’m partial to a french tip,” Eileen holds out her hands to show her own manicure, the pale pink and white practically gleaming, obviously salon done.

“I coloured Tommy’s nails with sharpie,” Lola says while looking at Eileen’s elegant fingers, and Eileen actually huffs a laugh at that.

“I saw; he’s very proud of them.”

Something in Lola’s chest tightens at that; Charlotte seemed to be a good enough judge of character, and she liked Eileen well enough, so that, for now, was good enough for Lola.

Perhaps that’s why Lola had taken so long to actually speak to Nikki Sixx, despite both Charlotte and Tommy being adamant they’d get along, Charlotte’s proclamation that Nikki was kind of a tool held her back.

It’s not that she doesn’t know who he is; she’s figured out the guy who sleeps through her English classes, is trying to make an acoustic guitar in shop, and who is part of her music classes - once she’d decided to show up to those - is the same person she’d seen on stage in leather pants back at the pub. The guy who Charlotte had yelled at. A tool. Apart from the week the rumours had started circulating about her, he never paid her much attention, so she never felt the need to introduce herself. If he was a tool, she could leave him well enough alone.

Until the first day of the Winter break, apparently. Though for the record, he was the one who spoke to her.

There were technically two music shops in the local mall, a ten minute walk from Lola’s flat above the diner; she’s glad to be close to the CBD, but it also means she can’t justify asking her dad for a ride when it would take her less time to walk than it would for him to find parking.

But Monday, December 27th, was absolutely fucking freezing.

The mall itself is teeming with people looking to spend the money they’d gotten over the holiday period, and the workers had already taken down the gaudy Christmas Tree that had sat in the middle of the food court.

Lola was there at her father’s behest, sticking up and handing out flyers announcing New Year’s Day as Leo’s grand opening, and that they were hiring. She gives everyone at the food court a flyer, sticks up several in various locations, and thinks about heading back to the food court for a second round, to catch any newcomers, or anyone she may have missed, when she spots the music shops.

Bass and Treble were owned by the same people, however Treble seemed to be geared towards more classical music, with pianos and violins and flutes and all manor of orchestra-esque instruments available, while Bass seemed to be committed to rock and roll.

Nikki Sixx finds Lola crouched in front of the display of sheet music on sale in Bass.

“Lola, right?”

Lola stands so fast at his voice that her head spins, but she tries not to let it show. She’s on alert when she looks at him, tense, already scowling, which only deepens when she sees who it is.

“Nikki Sixx,” his name is not a question when it leaves her lips, but he seems pleased rather than concerned, that his reputation apparently preceded him. He nods, and looks over at what she’d been examining.

“Anything good?” He asked, and Lola looks over her shoulder at the display. She’d been seriously considering a book of Elton John’s hits for piano before he’d come along.

“Still deciding; why?”

“No reason,” he shrugged, taking his time to look nonchalantly at the various amps nearby, “you look like you’d be into this sort of thing,” he notes, acting all smug and coy and weird; Lola rolled her eyes, but didn’t answer.

“You were at my gig, we’re you? Hanging out with that guy from the gas station, right? Mick?” Something about his tone had Lola on edge and defensive.

“You guys were okay,” she says flatly, making it clear as she can that that’s barely a compliment; Nikki, however, smile widely.

“Glowing review, I’ll add it to our poster,” he smirks, before he finally looks her over, gaze zeroing in on the flyers in her hands, “speaking of -” and he snatches one, not that she’s protesting, that’s another one she doesn’t have to get rid of. Nikki’s reading the flyer and frowning, while Lola lets her attention wander to the various keyboards they have on display.

“Where’s this?” Nikki pipes up, sounding genuinely interested, while Lola’s idly playing scales with one hand on the closest, off keyboard.

“A few blocks away,” Lola still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of the town’s geography, “across the road from The Kings Hotel, where I saw you play -”

“The old MacCready place?”

“It’s Leo’s now,” Lola says, arms crossed, sitting low in her hips as she regards Nikki, and the way he’s going over every little detail of the poster, “Charlotte says you’re a tool.”

“Charlotte just hates that she likes me so much,” Nikki doesn’t even miss a beat before answering, and when he looks up to catch Lola’s reaction, his grin is all teeth. Lola can’t help the slight smile she wears as she takes in his response.

“I can see why,” Lola’s not quite sure what she’s going for with her own response, but it comes out more teasing than cutting, and there’s something in Nikki’s eye, or in his smile, or maybe it’s in his easy laughter, that has her heart beating weird in her chest.

A moment passes between them, a shift in the tone, the energy of the interaction as Lola drops her immediate hostility; she’s been doing that a lot lately, but she tries not to dwell on it. It’s now she gets a proper look at him, at his ripped jeans and all black, leather jacket, hair sprayed to high heavens like he’s about to join Poison; he looks unkempt and mean, and Lola’s kind of really into it.

They’re checking each other out, sizing each other up, and they both seem to find something in the other they like, because Nikki’s grinning at Lola when gaze meets hers again, and she’s smirking right back.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she tells him, hip cocked for a moment before she saunters past him, knocking into him with her shoulder purposefully. When Nikki stumbles back, he huffs a laugh, and Lola calls over her shoulder, “Leo’s is hiring by the way, Leo himself would probably love a fucker like you.”

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #mick mars #the dirt #motley crue #motley crue imagine #nikki sixx imagine #tommy lee imagine #tommy lee & oc #the pack #lola&charlotte #charlotte & lola

11 notes · View notes

these-detestable-hands · 1 year ago

Text

I don't like a lot of the changes the count of Monte Cristo anime made but I want to watch it just for her

#VALENTINE DE VILLEFORT MY BELOVED #Pie won't shut up #Pie contemplates revenge

2 notes · View notes

these-detestable-hands · 1 year ago

Note

I FORGOT ABOUT THE MILF

The count of Monte Cristo book has really well written female characters (even by today's standards!!!) so I will be sending you more CMC anime girl pics as I get further in it :3 so far we've seen Valentine, Eugenie and this cute alien girl Haydee

A THREE-HIT COMBO OF WOMEN. TODAY HAS BEEN A GOOD DAY

#also thats just a solid character design. i think #<- it is! She's pweddy :3 #Pie contemplates revenge

4 notes · View notes

slimy-vore-bog · 4 years ago

Text

Fear of being Alone

Disclaimer: All my content is intended to be non-sexual N/SF/W interaction is not appreciated

Spoiler Warning for The Owl House This one I don’t recommend even trying to read without having watched the show. It would be confusing.

Warnings: mentions of fa/tal vore, digestion, and a character briefly contemplating cutting herself open with her claws.

None of these happen (or has happened previously), but warnings about it are still important.

Word Count: 7.7k

AO3

There is a bit more information under this, but after that there’s the story. I’ll explain the title too.

The creature Luz turns into looks like this:

This story I have been really excited about!

Ah heck, edit a day later, because I forgot to mention it for the tags: this was building off the story Luz the Owl Beast. If you want an explanation for the reason I changed the form she takes, you’re going to have to scroll through my blog for a bit.

I hope you all are going to enjoy it, because I loved writing it!

This fic happens entirely in the Owl House!

Oh, and I made her a bit too big... She’s like 5.4 meters (or you know... About 17 feet) from the ground to the tip of her ears... Heh, but she kinda had to be that big because otherwise it didn’t fit with how I described the vore.

Here’s her height compared to Eda and King:

But about the title...

The fear of being alone is called autophobia, but the reason I didn’t call it that is, first of all, it doesn’t make for a good title, and second of all I don’t want to call it a phobia. And I was really struggling with coming up with a title so that was why I picked that. It fits pretty well anyways.

Shoot, I just realized tumblr doesn’t allow more than one space; the formatting should look more pleasing now. The start and end of the story is marked with *** and passage of time is marked with ¨¨

Also, while reading, keep in mind that Luz is 14 years old.

(And that I’m open to criticism over the fact that I write these sorts of fics about The Owl House. Always. If you have a problem with it, please let me know)

***

Luz lay down on her sleeping mat, trying to gather her thoughts, after King had asked her what was wrong. “Every thought I have ever had just disappeared…” She realized, after her head hit the small pillow. “I don’t know… Everything is just… A little overwhelming.”

King stood a few feet away. “Well… I know you well enough that it’s probably not anything that a good dose of revenge would help… so what about a hug?” He tapped his claws against each other, waiting for Luz response.

She sat up again. “Aww, of course! Thank you… Now come over here, you little cutie pie!” She tried her best to sound cheerful, but her voice broke.

King noticed too, but he still jumped up into her arms. “Yes! You’re my best friend! Nothing gets to make my friends sad, or they will feel my wrath!”

Luz smiled; she didn’t actually believe that the demon wanted to hurt anyone. How could such a cute little guy like him do any of that? She wrapped her arms tightly around him. “I love you too, King!” She was glad that the little furry demon had it easier telling her that he viewed her as a best friend. She squeezed him tighter, until she felt him try to wriggle out of her grasp.

“That’s a little too tight!” King squirmed, but Luz was already letting go. “Do you feel better?” He looked up at her with a worried look in his eyes.

She put King down on her lap, before lying down again. “A little bit… But I was thinking about how I’m ever going to get home. And what I’m going to do once I’m there…” She stared up into the ceiling. “You know… Even if I did find another way to get home how could I ever leave this world behind? With you and Eda and all my friends…” That was what was bothering her so much. “And it’s not like I can stay here forever… My mom is going to wonder where I went.” She felt a pang of homesickness. She missed her mom.

King looked at her, but he didn’t say anything. He curled up on her stomach, before he spoke. “I don’t know how that feels.”

Luz patted his head with a gloomy smile. “It’s okay; it’s nice to have someone I know I can talk to.” She put her arms up to her head. “I think I’m going to bed now…” She still had a lot to think about, but she could think about it all another day… “Are you ready for bed too? You always nap.”

King kept his eyes on her, still with that unsure concerned look. “That’s because there’s nothing better than a good nap!” He still seemed a little unsure. “I guess I should move a bit so you can get into your sleep cocoon…”

Luz wrapped her arms around him. “No, I’ll just… sleep without the blanket.” She didn’t want King to move. She knew he was only moving a few feet away, but she needed someone to be close to her. “Please stay…” It wouldn’t help in the long run, that would take a lot more to figure out, but in the moment it was enough. Someone who could stay by her side.

He seemed a little tense in her arms, but he didn’t make a move to get away from her. “Alright… Goodnight, Luz.”

Luz hugged him closer to her body, “Goodnight, King.”

Having King by her side was enough to calm her down enough not to spend all night worrying about what she was going to do. She quickly fell asleep with the little adorable demon in her arms.

¨¨

She felt strange when she woke up. Something felt off… Not just the lack of King in her arms, but her body itself.

Her eyelids felt heavy, as she tried to open them, not really wanting to get up yet. But they shot the rest of the way open, when she noticed how tiny her room seemed. She tried to sit up, but her body wouldn’t allow her to. Not that she couldn’t move at all, but her body didn’t want to bend that way.

“Huh?” was what she tried to say, but it came out like a strange catlike squeak.

Okay, now it was really time to panic; what was going on?

She rolled over on her stomach, looking down at her arms. Or… what had replaced her arms. The fur on her strange armlike legs was the same color as her skin.

She tried to spring up on her legs, but it looked more like a strange spasm, before she let out a loud panicked yowl. What is happening?! She couldn’t figure out how to use her legs, but she seemed to have turned into some sort of giant quadruped.

Just as she thought it couldn’t get any more confusing; she realized there was a large pair of wings on her back. She had wings… What exactly was going on?

She rolled over on her stomach, staring at her strange lightly pawlike hands. She kept staring into her hands wondering where her nails where, before a realization hit her. I have to have retractable claws. She flexed her fingers, instantly seeing the claws pop out.

Slowly pushing herself up on her legs, she looked over the rest of her body, making all the fur on her body puff out. Her wings were massive, if she stood in the middle of the room and spread them out, she could definitely touch both walls at once. Her hindlegs ended in birdlike talons, unlike her front legs, and her body itself was massive covered in dark fur the same color as her hair with purplish pink stripes.

Her body looked too much like a cat and, judging by her lack of a snout, her face was still human. It made her fur prickle uncomfortably at the idea of what she had turned into. She really didn’t want to see herself in a mirror.

She shook her head, before hesitantly stretched out a wing, immediately loosing balance. She hissed out in pain; her feathers bent the wrong way when she hit the floor. She would never had thought wings were so sensitive.

She whined, trying to straighten her feathers by flapping both her wings. They fell back into place after a couple flaps. She let out a sigh of relief; that felt way better.

She took a few steps around the room. That was easy enough. She turned around to look at the door to her room. It felt a little small compared to her, but she could easily get through, if she wanted.

She looked around the room, wondering where King had gone. The little demon was nowhere in sight. She felt hurt, but if she had woken up next the form she had taken; she would probably have fled too. She still wanted to find him. Or Eda… Maybe Eda would know what to do? She had been turned into a big winged monster before too. The only problem would be that she didn’t remember what happened when she was in that form…

She crouched down to crawl under the door, her wings quivering anxiously. I have to find King… She wanted her buddy close her again…

Her body felt way too big, as she walked down the hallway to Eda’s room. She shook herself, trying to get her fur to lay down again. It was unnerving to be so big.

She noticed the door was ajar when she got to it.

As she suspected; they were all in the room. Both Eda and King, but Lilith was there too. King clung to Eda unsurely, while Lilith and Eda watched her, as if they were trying to figure out the best course of action.

Since her suspicion about King telling them was right, there wouldn’t be much to worry about, as long as she didn’t seem dangerous. Her keeping a bit of distance would probably be enough. She sat down, waiting to see how they reacted to her.

King was the first to relax, letting go of Eda’s leg. “Hey, I don’t think Luz wants to hurt us!” He shouted excitedly. He was about to run up to Luz, when Eda grabbed him. “Weh?!”

Eda still eyed Luz suspiciously. “Just wait a moment, King, I want to make sure she’s safe to be around.” She let go of him. “Stay there.”

King stomped his foot. “No! Eda, I…” He seemed to think over his reply. “I have seen you when you were the owl beast; Luz isn’t going to hurt us, despite her looking different!” He scurried up to Luz, before Eda could grab him again. “Isn’t that right, Luz?” He patted her leg with one of his little paws.

Luz let out a soft rumbling meow as a response. That’s right! She would never hurt her friends! I was just looking for you! She lay down, grabbing King to bring him closer to her. She wanted to cuddle the adorable guy, like she had done before she fell asleep, immediately pushing him close to her chest. His horn pinched a bit, but not enough to really hurt her. I need to hold him closer… She thought, pulling him into a tighter hug.

His smell was weirdly pleasant, in a way that it wasn’t exactly a good scent, but it reminded her of something pleasant. Like the day from her childhood when she first got to hold a cat… He smelled comfortable and warm, exactly like a friend should smell.

Luz looked up when she heard the shuffling of Eda’s slippers as she stepped closer. Her brow was furrowed as she spoke. “What happened to you…?” She placed a hand on top of Luz’s paw. She remained quiet, as she thought. Her eyes widened, withdrawing her hand.

Luz wasn’t sure what her mentor was thinking, but she was clearly distressed. What’s wrong? thought Luz, tilting her head to the side. She didn’t realize, but a slow deep purr was building up in her in an attempt to calm the witch down.

Eda turned away from Luz and towards her sister. “Lily, we need to figure out what happened to Luz!”

Luz looked up at her too; the witch took a step back. “But it’s the middle of the night! Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

Eda got up on her feet from her crouched position. “But what if it’s a curse?” She crossed her arms, staring her sister down. “Do you remember how it went when you kept putting off my curse?” Luz held King close to her, feeling the uncomfortable tension in the room. “Either way; you owe my kid for what you did to her! You nearly killed her!”

Lilith glared back. “That’s not why I’m putting it off! Firstly, I doubt we’re are going to know where to look without thinking it through! And secondly, waiting until we can think logically about it is the best option!” Lilith’s glare disappeared after a second. “I promise I’ll help you figure out what’s wrong with your student tomorrow, but it’s better to get some rest.”

Eda lowered her arms. “I guess you have a point…” She turned back around to look at Luz. “Luz, will you be fine on your own?”

Luz tilted her head, mewing at her. Why should I be on my own?

Eda rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I really wish you could talk right now… Did you understand me?”

Luz moved King a bit, before she nodded.

Eda sighed, “so what are you asking me?”

King moved in her grasp. “Uh, Eda, I think I know what the problem is…” Luz pushed King back against her body.

It only took one look for Eda to realize what was happening. “Luz doesn’t want to be alone.” She walked back over to Luz, before she crouched down. “Look, I understand that you would probably feel better if you had someone to stay around you, but you know firsthand how violent I could be when I transformed…” she placed a hand on Luz’s arm. “If this is a curse; it’s better if you stay in your room, until we know what to expect.”

Luz shoved King in under herself. She needed someone to stay with her. “No!” Her eyes widened, as she realized she could get a word out. It didn’t quite sound like her, but she got it out.

But Lilith was quick to use a spell to pull King out from under her.

Luz scrambled up on her legs, hissing at her. Don’t take King! Her wings sprung out from her body threateningly; King needed to stay with her. She was about to attack Lilith, but Eda stood in the way.

Her wings trembled, before she tried to scare her mentor away by flapping them in front of her.

But she wasn’t fazed. “Quit it, Luz, this is not up for discussion.”

Luz huffed at her, lowering her wings a little, but as her gaze moved to Lilith, they flared up threateningly again. Give me back King!

Eda looked to her sister, before she looked back at Luz. “You’re not going to threaten my sister!” Eda sighed. “Urgh, I never thought I would be the type of parent to say this…” she pointed to the hall. “Go to your room!”

Eda’s wording caught Luz off guard, making her lower her wings again. Parent? Did Eda just call herself my mom? She took a step back.

Eda seemed embarrassed, but not about calling herself a parent to Luz, when she pointed to the hall again. “You heard me! Go to your room!”

She took another couple steps back, with her ears pressed against her head. Eda didn’t even acknowledge calling herself a parent. I don’t want to be alone… Yet Eda strict stare, and the confusion from Eda saying “parent”, got her to turn around and leave. I just wanted King with me… Maybe it’s better not to be so selfish. Luz didn’t want to hurt King on accident, and Eda was right; they didn’t know if she was dangerous.

She slowly trudged to her own room, her head hanging low.

¨¨

Her sleeping mat was way too tiny for her new giant form. She glared at it, knowing that it wasn’t going to be big enough for her from just a glance.

Even after adding a couple pillows around it; it was still too small. It was better than nothing. She tried to curl up as much as possible, but it still wasn’t very comfy. It would be better, if I had King with me… She thought grumpily, while trying to snuggle into the pillows.

¨¨

She lay restlessly, continuously shifting around and adjusting the pillows.

Her mind was racing with thoughts. Eda calling herself her mom… What was she going to make of that? She thought Eda was just calling her kid, because she was inexperienced. Did Eda actually view herself as a parent to her?

Luz hid her face in between her front legs. She didn’t know what to do… She had said herself that they were a family, but facing the fact that Eda viewed her as a daughter was too overwhelming. Especially while she was whatever she had turned into… Her emotions felt stronger than before, if she had been herself, she wouldn’t have tried to attack Lilith. She should probably apologize for that…

She curled together again, after adjusting a pillow. She would figure out what to think of Eda’s words the next day, if she could fall asleep.

But, of course, she never got calm enough to sleep.

She began pacing the room just to calm down after what felt like hours of thinking and shifting pillows. Yet her distress had entirely shifted from Eda, now all she needed was someone to stay with her and she would be good.

Her thoughts fell onto King again. If she could get to him, without Eda or Lilith noticing, then it wouldn’t be a problem anymore…

She sniffed the air, recalling King’s nostalgic smell. She could smell it in the air all around her, but it was faint… Yet, if he was still in the house; Luz could definitely find him. Her sense of smell had improved immensely.

¨¨

She found him in Eda’s room; to her luck Eda completely passed out in her nest, which she still hadn’t replaced with a more normal bed. Or maybe she likes the nest? She shook her head, looking away from Eda. Eda wasn’t awake; all there was left to do was to grab King and leave.

He was lying on top of big pillow that had been brought into the room for him to sleep on.

Luz smiled to herself, stopping herself from making any noises out of happiness. Her body started losing the tenseness that had been building up in it, as she walked over and gently picked King up in her jaws. King was just as heavy a sleeper as usual. He didn’t wake up from Luz carrying him with her to her room.

Her heartbeat was slowing down from the panic she had been feeling just a moment before.

¨¨

She gently put him down on the end of the pillows, making sure not to wake her tiny pal up.

She dragged her tongue over him, before gently hugging him and the pillow close to her body. But she lifted her head after realizing what she did. Did I just lick King? She scratched her tongue against her teeth, disgusted by herself, only to feel the hooks on her tongue getting stuck on her teeth.

Her tongue was hooked like a cat’s.

She stuck it out as far as she could, seeing the tiny spikes protruding from it. Her back prickled in uncomfortableness again, thinking of her catlike body. But that explained the weird feeling in her mouth… Cats lick each other to show affection… Maybe licking King had just been an instinct in her new form? A new way of showing she cared for him? That had been all she wanted to do… to show him that she cared.

She laid her head down on him again. She just wanted to get some sleep… Her worries about everything could, once again, wait. Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest choice to take, but if she used all night thinking about it; she would never get any sleep.

¨¨

“Luz! What in the titan’s name did I tell you?”

Her eyes flew open as she heard Eda’s loud angry voice. Eda was scolding her, why was Eda scolding her? Her paws grasped after where she remembered having held King, but he wasn’t there anymore; he was with Eda. She let out a deep growl. Eda took King!

She felt a surge of rage, before she flung Eda out on the hall and grabbed King. MINE!

Her grip on him tightened, as he shouted at her. “Luz! Let go of me!”

No! She needed to make sure nobody else could get to him; that nobody else could take him from her.

She barely gave it a second thought, before she shoved King into her mouth. HE’S MINE! Nobody would take him from her, if she ate him.

Her mind felt clouded, as she tried to swallow the little demon. She wasn’t herself anymore.

Eda shouted for her sister, but Luz barely acknowledged it. If she was quick enough, she could probably get King down, before she could make it into the room. But he was harder to swallow than he looked…

He screamed in a panic, as he squirmed. “Spit me out!” His unbroken horn poked her mouth irritatingly, but not enough to cut her palate. He jammed his head into the roof of her mouth, but the horn still didn’t poke through anything.

Luz squinted her eyes, as Lilith ran into the room. Her wings spread out in front of her again, trying to keep the two witches away. Go away! She commanded in her head. Don’t take King from me! She backed away with her wings shaking. They were harder to hold like that than they looked.

Not long passed, before Lilith tried to cast the spell from earlier again.

Luz quickly forced King back inside her mouth, shutting her jaws tightly. YOU WON’T GET HIM AGAIN! She could feel the pull of the spell, as she tried to keep her mouth shut. An idea popped into her mind. If I attack her, she can’t continue using the spell.

Luz lowered her wings, immediately pouncing on Lilith and shoving her to the floor roughly. She made sure to keep her arms tightly pressed to her body. Now she wasn’t going to be annoying her anymore…

Luz noticed Eda looking on in terror, in the moment she glanced at her mentor. For a second, she felt bad, but then she remembered how she had taken King from her. Yet she felt a twinge of guilt. Eda must feel powerless… But Luz wasn’t going to hurt King; they would all figure it out in a moment.

She tipped her head up, trying to swallow King again.

King continued to fight against her, but it didn’t help him.

Luz felt the painful scraping of his horns in her throat, as some of him finally slipped down. Her nose wrinkled in discomfort, almost making her spit him back up, but she wouldn’t let the others get him now. He was hers. Her claws came out again, without hurting Lilith, from just the thought of somebody taking her friend away. Nobody gets to take him…

She swallowed again; she could feel how much Lilith was struggling to get out of her grip. Her tail lashed in annoyance. She wasn’t hurting any of them; why was she so panicked? She was careful not to poke her with her claws, so why was she like this?

Luz felt King try to squirm his way back up her throat, but it wasn’t working out well for him. She gulped one more time to get him completely past her mouth. She licked her lips in contentment, despite feeling the rough shape of his horns while he made his way down towards her stomach-like pouch.

She swallowed again to get him down quicker. The faster she got this done; the faster she could let go of Lilith. Once they realized King was safe, there was nothing to worry about.

King quickly disappeared into her chest, and slipped the rest of the way into her pouch. Her body finally relaxed, and she started to feel a bit of herself returning.

Her ears focused on the surprisingly silence in the room, shifting around to try and pick anything up. It had been so noisy just before with screams of frustration and yelling, but now it was completely silent.

She sniffed the air a bit, licking her lips again, her mouth tasted like the faint smell of King. What had just happened didn’t feel completely real to her. It was more like a strange half-dream just before falling asleep.

A scream for help broke the silence, making her jump.

She thought the sound had come from her stomach, but that couldn’t be right. It was King’s scream; why would he be in her stomach? She listened intensely, trying to make sure that the noise wasn’t coming from her belly. But something did seem to be moving in there.

Another panicked shout sounded and her ears immediately pressed down again her head. “Luz, please let me out! I don’t want to die like this!” The noise came from her middle and that was King.

But if King is in my stomach…

Luz’s eyes widened, as she realized what she had just done, backing off Lilith. Why did I think this was a good idea? She began retching immediately, but King’s horn jabbed into her stomach walls. She tried again and again, but the feeling was too painful with her already sore throat.

Her fur stood on end at the thought what she had done. Why did she think this was safe? How could it be? It hadn’t even felt like her own thoughts! What have I done? She stared down into her paws, trying to figure out a way to get King out. I really messed up.

Nobody knew what to do, and Luz resorted to retching again. She couldn’t have killed King! She wasn’t going to let him die! Help! she begged inside her head. She tried to press on her belly, but still nothing happened; King was stuck in there.

She tried to puke him up again and again, but the only thing she was achieving was a stomachache.

Her body began to shake from the constant attempts to vomit the demon back out.

Luz looked down at Eda with pleading eyes, but she knew there was nothing either her or Lilith could do.

King was still somehow squirming around in her stomach, begging for help, but Luz knew that she didn’t have a long time to get him out. But her stomach and throat were hurting too much. I can’t give up… She wouldn’t let her friend die, but she physically couldn’t try to save him anymore.

A thought hit her, making her bring her claws out again. But then it was a question of her life or his life…

She brought her paw up to her face. My claws might be sharp enough… she thought. There couldn’t be a lot of time to decide. But if it’s not a perfect cut I’ll just get both of us killed.

Luz’s ears shifted, as she heard Lilith whisper. “What do we do now?” Her gaze fell on the woman; she had gotten back up on her legs, and stood anxiously at Eda’s side.

Eda still stared in shock, making Luz regret her actions even more. “This didn’t have to happen…” she got out. “We could have avoided all this if we just thought to use a single sleep spell at ANY point!” Eda slumped down against the wall again. “Now we can’t do anything to help King…”

Luz felt even worse, at the reminder that King was helpless now.

Why couldn’t she just get him back out? She stared down at her claws again, as her heart thumped rapidly in her chest. Should she take her own life to save King’s? She placed a paw on her belly, which she only just noticed had become eerily silent. Her fur stood on end, as a chill ran through her. There was no movement under her paw.

She spread her wings out and screeched in horror. NO! NONONO! Her wings flapped in panic, as she slammed her paw back on the floor. She had to get away.

Her wings crashed into the ceiling, as she panicked, making her withdraw them. Her heart pounded, while sprinted past Eda and Lilith out onto the hallway. She had to have killed King. Her best friend was dead. She couldn’t stay in the same house anymore; she had to get out of there.

She tried to jump down the stair in her panicked run, but she tripped on the last steps and fall the rest of the way down.

She scrambled up on her legs again, running for the door in the kitchen.

Someone upstairs shouted her name, but she couldn’t stop; she needed to get away.

Her heart pounded, as she tried to pull it open. In her panic, she didn’t even know where she was going. The only thing she knew was that she needed to run.

Her wings shook in fear, before the door finally opened. She squeezed her body through the door, letting her birdlike feet scratch the floor in her panic. She immediately turned to run for the forest, after escaping the walls of the Owl House.

She picked up a full speed sprint, as soon as she made her turn. Her panicked mind didn’t let her feel the slight movement inside her belly, leaving her unaware that her friend wasn’t dead.

The trees seemed blurred around her, as she ran as fast and as far into the forest as she could.

After a while, she lost her balance midjump. Her hindlegs caught a giant boulder she was trying to leap over. Her body gave up in exhaustion, and, not even trying to catch herself, she let herself fall and slam into the ground.

Her lungs burnt from the running; she had never sprinted so long and at that speed before in her life. Her muscles had never felt so stiff after a run.

She curled up.

Her heart was pounding painfully in her chest, as she panted for breath. Why did she kill her best friend? Her throat and stomach ached from the stress she had put her body under while trying to vomit her friend back up. She couldn’t stop herself from crying anymore. I just wanted King with me…

She lay on the ground, still panting, with the thought of what she had done to her tiny buddy. Her tears ran across her face, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. She had eaten him for no reason, turning on him with no warning. Eda probably didn’t even take him… He could just as easily have left on his own.

Luz took a deep shaking breath, before closing her eyes. There wasn’t anything she could do anymore. She exhaled, equally shakily, and tried to fall asleep.

She fell into unconsciousness in less than a minute after all her struggling to get a night’s rest. If only it had been that easy from the start…

¨¨

Hours passed of her sleeping on the ground, as the sun rose over the trees. It was already midday when she woke up.

She stretched her legs, feeling how stiff her limps were. Everything seemed to pulse in pain, and a bad feeling made her heart pound a little too fast, but she didn’t know what it was yet.

Her wing hurt from lying down on it in her sleep. She rolled onto her stomach, stretching both of them out as much as she could.

She yawned, looking around the forest, as the realization of what had happened hit her. The slight dread she had felt when she woke up turned to horror in less than a second.

Again, her pulse quickened, but she felt too weak to even try to stand up again.

She whined, but she noticed her stomach still felt as heavy and full as the night before. That wasn’t right… She rolled onto her side, pressing the lump, only to hear a startled shout from the inside.

Luz’s eyes widened. King is alive! She rolled over on her stomach again, tilting her head. How is he still alive? She concentrated on her voice, desperate to form a single word again. “King?” It came out smoother than she thought it would, with barely a bit of stammering, before she got it said.

He wriggled around, as Luz tried to wrap her mind around the fact that her friend wasn’t dead. “Luz!” He pressed his body against her sore stomach. “Get me out of here!”

Luz wanted to get him back out, but she also wanted to ask him how he could possibly still be alive. I’ll ask first. Though, there was still the problem of not being able to speak normally. After a few seconds of thinking, she came up with an easy way to phrase it. “Alive?” She stammered a bit, but it still came out understandably.

He paused, “Uh, yes, I am.” He sounded confused. “Why would you ask?”

He waited for Luz’s response, but she wasn’t sure how else to phrase it. She hummed, thinking it over. The answer hit her a second after. “How alive?” She was getting more used to her mouth and voice, and shook her head. I sound stupid. But she couldn’t form longer sentences yet.

“How I’m alive?” He thought about it, before shouting at her. “I don’t know! Just get me out of here already! I have been in here for way too long! … I think.”

Luz got up on her legs. Maybe I could try once more… she thought, as she started heaving again.

To her surprise, King was coming back up. Maybe it was due to both of them being a lot calmer than last night.

She winced at the rough feeling of his sharp horns, as he came back up.

It nearly took a minute, but eventually King slid back out of her mouth.

King shrieked, and nearly fell onto the ground, before Luz grabbed him. He shook his head, immediately blinking at his surroundings. “Uh, where are we?” He sat up, looking around the forest. “It’s already daytime!” he exclaimed in surprise.

Luz looked up at the bright sky, before thinking about his question. She tilted her head, looking around the forest herself. She didn’t actually know where she was; she just dashed as fast as she could. Did she run straight after her first right or did she turn again later? She didn’t remember anything from her panicked sprint. Maybe it was time to find her way home to the Owl House. Knowing that King was safe gave her enough energy to walk.

She watched him for a while, before deciding to put him up on her back.

¨¨

Her legs nearly gave out under her, but she made it home after a long walk. She did not remember having such a long way back, but she was thankful to be back.

Hooty was wide awake, looking at something on the ground. He tilted his head, watching the tiny bug on the ground, just about to eat it, before he looked up at Luz and King. Even the sight of Hooty comforted Luz, despite his hesitant look.

King sighed behind Luz’s head. “Let’s hope he doesn’t talk too much… I’m not in the mood to listen to him today.”

Luz smiled a bit; she didn’t really want to hear a word from Hooty right then either. They had all had a scary night.

Hooty stared at Luz in disbelief for a couple seconds. “Luz?” His confusion made sense, given the fact that he hadn’t seen her since yesterday’s afternoon. “Is that you?”

King groan quietly from his position atop of Luz’s shoulders. “Hooty, shut your beak and let us in; I’m too tired for this.” Luz couldn’t agree more on the tired part.

Her muscles ached at the thought of needing to get up the small steps of the stairs, but she knew she could manage it. Soon, she would get to lay down and rest in the, earlier unappreciated, soft pillow bed she had made.

She clambered up the stairs, careful not to lose her balance. All four of her legs seared with the pain of overexertion, but she nearly tripped all the way back down when she saw Eda standing not that long away from her.

Luz didn’t know what to think of the look Eda was giving her, as she climbed the rest of the way up. It changed from anger to relief and then it turned into fear. Luz bowed her head to show that she had King on her back. “Sorry.” That was all she could get out as an apology.

Eda didn’t say a word.

Luz gulped nervously. Could Eda forgive her after all this? She grabbed King putting him down on the floor. She kept her head low, as she started heading for her room.

¨¨

She didn’t remember having made such a mess, but she had. I guess it does make sense with how much I beat my wings. She quickly arranged the pillows again, before lying down to rest her sore muscles.

She closed her eyes, curling up on the pillows, getting some comfortable sleep after everything that had happened would be nice. The room was nice and quiet, and she wasn’t stressed about anything anymore.

Until she thought about the fact that she hadn’t had anything to eat since… technically King, but nutritionally, last night’s dinner, and being aware of it made it so much worse. How were they even supposed to get enough food for her? Cats and owls are both carnivores, but how could we get enough meat…? Her stomach churned. What if I have to eat people? Her fur stood on end. What if I can only eat people?

Her heart started racing, as she felt like vomiting, but she took a deep breath. Calm down; you don’t know anything yet… It could be as simple as her just needing regular sourced raw meat. Or maybe she could live off cat food? The thought wasn’t particularly appetizing, but it was better than eating people. I could live off cat food for a while… But that just made the next worry hit. When will I turn back to normal?

Her worries didn’t seem to have an end, but to her luck, someone knocked on the door.

“Hey, Luz, can I come in?” It was Eda.

Luz stammered out a yes, watching the door open.

Eda looked at Luz, but her face was hard to read. Her expression seemed sad, but it was hard to tell.

Luz felt the need to apologize again, but she didn’t; she waited for Eda to start talking.

They watch each other anxiously for a while, before Eda spoke. “You can only answer easy questions, right?”

Luz nodded, adding another yes. She might as well train her speech.

Eda furrowed her brow, thinking over her questions. It couldn’t be easy to come up with questions that didn’t start with why. “Do you feel better now?”

Luz tilted her head at the question. Was that what she wanted to ask? How do I feel? Despite her new worries, she did feel better than when she attacked Eda and Lilith. Luz thought about it a little more, before she nodded again. “Yes.”

Eda untensed her shoulders, before she moved over to sit by Luz. “So you’re not going to fling me into a wall again?” There was a clear joking tone to her voice, but Luz felt ashamed. “But, I have been wondering… Did you know what you were doing when you ate King?”

Luz tried to think back. She could recall small bits, but she hadn’t been in control entirely. She remembered watching Eda and seeing how scared she was, but it was all a bit of a blur from when she first shoved King in her mouth, up to the point where she realized he was in her stomach. She shook her head. “Not really…”

Eda looked conflicted. “I’m guessing that means you don’t know why you ate King…”

But she was wrong. “No, I do.” Luz wasn’t sure she could explain it simply, but she did remember why she decided to eat King. She tried to stammer the first words of the sentence. “I didn’t want…” It took her a few tries, but it was starting to make more sense. She continued. “you to take him.” Her last clear thought before it happened had been “He’s mine”.

Eda raised an eyebrow, as she realized Luz was starting to speak more. “You ate him to make sure I didn’t take him…” Eda chewed on the thought.

Luz watched her, but Eda stayed quiet. She laid her head down on the pillows, letting her body rest.

Just as she was about to fall asleep, because Eda spoke again. “Okay, let me get this straight; you didn’t know what you were doing when you ate King, but you do remember why you ate him?” Luz glanced anxiously up at Eda, feeling like Eda thought she was a liar.

Luz fiddled with her paws. “It’s hard to explain.” It was strange to think back on. She recalled thinking that King was safe. Like the part of her that had taken over knew that King wouldn’t melt to nothing but bones, or maybe bones and fur, in her stomach. “It knew he was going to be safe.”

Eda cocked an eyebrow again. “It? What are you talking about? What knew?”

Luz thought about it. “Me, when I ate King.” Her own brow furrowed. “It was and wasn’t me.”

Both of them sat in silence for a few seconds, before Eda changed the subject. “Is there anything you need?”

Just the question reminded her of how hungry she was. “Food.” It felt embarrassing to ask for, after she had eaten King, but she was starving. She would really like something to drink as well.

Eda stared at her, with a hint of worry in her eyes. She tried to turn to her fear into a joke. “How are we going to feed you? You’re nearly big enough to eat me like you ate King!” But it was pretty clear to Luz that her mentor was scared of her, because of that.

Luz decided not to mention that she knew she was big enough to swallow Eda whole and alive, if she wanted. She didn’t even have to try to compare the size of her mouth to her; it was like the instinct that had told her King was safe, except this she knew for sure. “Do we have enough food?” asked Luz, tilting her head once again. “Can I get something to drink at least?”

Eda quickly agreed, before she made her way to get Luz some water.

¨¨

Luz dozed into her half-sleep again, waiting for Eda.

Her ears twitched when she heard the door open again. Eda was holding a giant pot of water with little struggle. “I hope this isn’t too hard to drink from.” She placed it down in front of Luz. “You still drink like you do normally, right?”

She was going to figure that out in a moment. That’s not a lot of water. It was probably a little bigger than a regular cup to her. She picked it up on her paws, before trying to drink.

She spilled a little of it, but it went well. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

¨¨

Luz ended up falling asleep after a while, despite her hunger.

She slept for a couple hours, before there once again was a knock on the door. The scent coming from the door was Lilith’s awful bitter smell, and only became stronger as she stepped inside. Luz heard her start with the word “human”, before she dropped the name entirely. “We need to talk.” Luz was pretty sure the only reason she didn’t call her “human” was because it didn’t describe her anymore, not out of any actual respect.

Luz scrunched her nose. Maybe there was one person she wouldn’t mind eating, if she had to eat people… She never liked Lilith and she was pretty sure she wouldn’t change her mind anytime soon.

Her tail lashed, and she squinted her eyes, before she calmed down enough to speak. “About what?”

Lilith seemed annoyed with her too, but she was a little better at hiding it. “About what happened to you.”

That caught Luz’s attention. “What happened?” Maybe some of her worries would finally pass. Or they would be confirmed.

Lilith stared at her with a cold expression. “As far as I have found; it’s not a curse, but what it is, it won’t be easy to cure.”

Luz didn’t know what to think of that. “But it can be?” If it could be cured, then that was all she needed. How am I going to go to school like this? She had never seen any giant monster cats at Hexside.

Lilith snapped her out of her thoughts. “Yes.”

It was quiet between them for a few seconds, before a question popped into Luz’s mind. “Why did King not die?”

She hesitated a bit, before she answered. “It wasn’t your actual stomach; it was more of a pouch…” She trailed off with a slight thoughtful expression. “Whatever you are now, is very fond of companionship, but the way it shows that is by eating its smaller friends. It also happens to be how it protects them.”

Luz didn’t like how Lilith looked at her. “I wasn’t myself when it happened.” She lowered her head, as she remembered what she did to Lilith. “I’m sorry that I attacked you, when you tried to take King.” She paused, before rewording her sentence. “I meant save. Not take.” Part of her still felt they had taken King unfairly, but she didn’t need to say it.

Lilith looked at her, before she turned around to leave.

Luz remembered her earlier worry. “What can I eat?”

She gave a quick annoyed response. “Anything made of meat.”

Luz nodded, despite her already having left the room. At least I’m not vegetarian… That’s one bright side. Her stomach was still painfully empty, but she figured either Eda or King would call her down when it was time to eat. She knew she was going to be difficult to feed, so they might not have anything ready yet.

However, she was starting to feel restless.

She stretched her body, before getting up on her legs again. They didn’t feel much better, but she didn’t want to just be doing nothing the entire day. She looked over at the window, only to see that the sun was hanging low already. Oh… Well, I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep at night anyways.

Her body ached as she thought about her fall down the stairs the day before. And her tumble over the boulder… It didn’t hurt as much as it should, but that was probably just her new form being more fit for a life on the Boiling Isles.

¨¨

King was sleeping curled up on the couch when she first saw him. Luz smiled, but felt a bit weird about what Lilith had told her. If eating him was how she would show affection, did that mean that things like hugs and small kisses wasn’t enough anymore?

She sat down beside the couch, not feeling the need to move any farther. There was plenty of room, making her feel a lot more comfortable.

Now all there was left to do was wait for dinner.

***

And that’s the end of this story! I really really hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!

A last few notes though.

The reason Eda is acting different is just that I imagine that that’s what being without her powers would do to her for a while, until she gets used to using glyphs. Especially in the presence of a giant hungry cat...

The second thing is that King passed out in her pouch. Bad timing, but he was terrified and I kinda did it just because... I wanted Luz to panic.

And I made everything get explained in the story, because I wanted to make sure everything made sense. Or at least so you could see the reason I did certain stuff.

But again, thanks for reading and I hope you all have a great day! <3

#sfw vore #safe vore #T0H vore #drawing

15 notes · View notes

peppersonironi · 4 years ago

Text

Duke Thomas VS The "Good Child" Stereotype Chapter Four

For my @dukethomasbigbang fic, we have the third prank, and fourth chapter! I hope y'all like it! Yet again a huge thanks to betas @queerbutstillhere & @theycallme-ook

Summary:

Everyone was suddenly shaken out of their stunned staring when the Cave’s sound system flared up, blasting dramatic choral music. It was the perfect track for the perfect moment, building up tension to an uproar as the lights dimmed slightly, and all attention was brought on the crackling of lightning arcing across a new figure, who was rounding the bend.

Duke grinned at his crowning achievement.

Read on Ao3

Ah, Cheerios, the best kind of breakfast cereal. Duke just didn’t get why people seemed to hate them so much. They weren’t bland, they just had a nice even subtle oat flavor which was refreshing compared to all the intensely sweet sugary crap that Dick kept attempting to sneak in past Alfred. And they were so delicious with milk! Of course, they were also fantastic when you added things to them as well, like a light drizzle of honey, or a small handful of granola. If you were feeling especially adventurous - or if Damian was the one to go shopping with Alfred and therefore got the choice in what was bought that week - you could even have it with some unsweetened vanilla oat milk.

“But does that count as a subset of cannibalism?” Duke wondered aloud between bites of cereal.

He took another bite thoughtfully and hopped down from the island in the middle of the kitchen to make his way out the door and down the hall. Alfred was away for the weekend (Tim had mentioned something about regaining his honor in a pie baking duel with Ma Kent? Duke wasn’t sure.) so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

Not that he ever got in trouble. For some reason.

Duke angrily crunched down on another spoonful when a sudden banging around came from the ceiling above him. Duke froze, suddenly terrified. What was it? Aliens? Did Alfred (The Cat) finally figure out how to phase through walls? Were some of the skeletons (which Jason had warned Duke he stored in the drywall) finally reanimate and were slowly crawling out, in a slow determined quest for revenge?

As the opening to the air vent just a few feet ahead banged open, releasing a lone figure, Duke was dismayed to find it was not, in fact, some fantastical being or occurrence.

It was just Steph.

Duke quickly finished eating the spoonful of Cheerios and chewed as he waved a greeting with his spoon.

Stephanie, who was completely covered in glitter and carrying a feather duster, glared daggers at Duke and slowly, methodically, drew the duster across her throat.

Duke swallowed heavily and cringed. Ah, it probably would be in his best interest to avoid blaming the purple clothed bandit for any of his pranks in the future.

*****

For the second time that day, Duke found himself in the kitchen of Wayne Manor. Though this time, instead of pondering the moral and psychological repercussions of eating his cereal with oat milk, the teen was having a pre workout snack with his younger brother.

“Add more whipped cream, Thomas,” Damian advised, passing Duke the can. “Dairy is protein, and protein is essential to proper nutrition.”

Duke took the can with a grin, and added a more generous than necessary squirt to the top.

“Alright Dami,” Duke said as he set aside the can, “But you need to be sure to add more than one cherry. Fruit is good for you, you know.”

Damian sniffed superiorly and delicately pulled out three maraschino cherries from the fancy jar than Alfred kept in the pantry. He then placed them precariously on top of the summet of his ice cream sundae mountain.

Duke held up his spoon in front of Damian. “Shall we dig in?”

Damian grinned - a rare occurrence which took the years off of his face, allowing him to truly look like a child. Duke quietly celebrated, ever since he first saw Damian smile at him, he had made it his mission to make his younger brother happier more often.

They clinked their spoons together, and dug into their huge deserts. It was a good thing that Alfred wasn’t home at the moment, or the old Butler would have an aneurysm at the amount of sugar they were putting into their bodies. But oh well, they deserved it for the training session that they’d be taking part in later that afternoon.

It wasn’t often that Bruce had enough time to do a full workout session with any of his kids, let alone something smaller like a one on one thing, or him and a few others. Duke had only gotten this privilege during his first year of staying with the Waynes, and at the time, when he was futilely trying to kick down trees in the yard, he hadn’t understood why such a thing was coveted by his siblings.

But now he did, so he completely understood Damian’s excitement when the thirteen year old had animatedly informed him that because all the others were gone from the city that day, only he and Duke would be present for the training session. So of course Duke suggested making a special treat in preparation.

They were at the very bottom of their large bowls of ice cream when Bruce walked into the kitchen carrying his large jug of water.

“Are you boys ready for today?” Bruce asked, and Duke and Damian grinned.

“Of course, Father. We have been preparing extensively for the past half hour.”

Bruce eyed the empty bowls in front of each of his sons, and grunted. “And sprinkles helped you do that?”

Duke scoffed. “Of course, B. Didn't you know that?”

Bruce looked skeptical, so Damian butted in. “Father, Pennyworth is always informing you to eat your colors. You americans eat such bland food, all tans and grays. Surely compact fluorescent bites are the best way to remedy such a problem.”

Bruce squinted, but didn’t seem in the mood to argue, so he turned around and began to leave the kitchen. “Just be in my study in twenty minutes.”

Behind him, Duke offered a fist bump to his partner in crime. Damian accepted with a smirk.

*****

“Please tell me I’m not late!” Duke exclaimed as he rushed into Bruce’s study.

Bruce and Damian were over by the clock, looking as if they were about to input the time. Duke heaved a sigh of relief at that. Being late to a training session was a mortal sin in the Manor. Or at least, that’s what Jason told him. He said it was the reason he had died (something about Bruce kicking him out, which made him go to Ethiopia for some money an old rich uncle of his had left him, and then the Joker catching wind and tried to rob him, which somehow ended in with him, a warehouse, and a crow bar).

Suffice it to say, Duke made it his mission to never be late to a training session. Ever.

“Tt, Thomas,” Damian remarked, turning back to the clock. “You were cutting it close.”

Bruce sighed. “You’re fine Duke.”

Duke nodded and took his place right behind Damian. The boy huffed in a satisfied manner and crossed his arms.

“Any day now, Father. Unlike you, my time is precious.”

Translation: Damian was excited, and tired of waiting.

Bruce frowned as he spun the arms of the clock again. “The clock is broken.”

Duke raised his eyebrows. “Wow, that couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that it’s really just a door, right?”

Bruce frowned back at the face of the grandfather clock, not bothered by Duke’s incredibly funny remark.

A few seconds later, Duke tried again. “Bruce, what’s wrong?”

Bruce’s eyes were narrowed to slits by now, and his brow furrowed in concentration. “The entrance is malfunctioning. I want you boys to go around and check the others. Including Stephanie’s smuggling tunnel.”

Duke blinked. “Stephanie’s what now?”

Bruce made a shooing gesture with his hand. “Yes, I know about that. Now go.”

Duke and Damian looked at each other, shrugged, then left the room. Might as well do what Bruce says. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner they could work out. Plus they were sort of curious to know what was going on. Neither of them knew, they were innocent! Especially Duke.

Fifteen minutes later, and the trio reconvened in the study once more. Bruce looked angry, Duke looked confused, and Damian was positively fuming.

“This is outrageous!” He cried, as soon as he entered after Duke. “None of the entrances are working! I even attempted to use imaginative means to enter, and nothing worked!”

Bruce’s grim look receded for just a moment. “I’ll let Barbara know she did a wonderful job shoring up the security if even my children can’t get in.”

Damian scowled. “What’s the point of making security that we can’t get into?”

Bruce closed his eyes for three long, tired seconds.

“Anyway!” Duke said, “They aren’t allowing access. Any theories? Or should we just get Tim?”

Damian looked appalled at the idea. “Father!” he cried, “you can’t call Timothy! He will be unable to operate at maximum capacity if he does not complete the weekend of so-called relaxation with the clone at the Kents’ farm.”

“So second best option?” Duke asked.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “I hope you don’t let Barbara hear that when she gets here.”

*****

“Hhmmmm.”

Duke, Bruce, and Damian cringed in unison at Barbara’s contemplative noise. The young woman was typing on a laptop plugged into some kind of control panel in Bruce’s office. She hadn’t spoken to them more than first greetings when she had arrived, so they were left in the dark while she rifled through the Cave’s security system.

Finally, Babs closed the computer and set it to the side. Duke and the others held their collective breath.

“The Cave is registering you as already present inside,” Barbara explained, “Actually, it says that everyone is in the Cave right now.”

Bruce was still and silent, considering Barbara’s words. Damian, on the other hand, seemed to be an inch away from having a meltdown.

“This is preposterous!” He blustered, whipping about and glaring, not having any particular target. “The system is trash, I said we should have fixed it ages ago! And now look at the outcome! I must remain at peak physical capacity, and I am not able to if I miss even a single session! Father, I demand you fix this!”

“Woah, dude, chill,” Duke soothed, resting a hand on Damian’s shoulder. Thankfully, the kid didn’t bite him. “I know you're frustrated, but we work more effectively when calm, right?”

Damian blinked, and glared at Duke for a long moment. “You are not incorrect, Thomas.” Damian finally allowed, turning away.

Barbara smiled. “Well, good news: I can get you in. It’s probably a good idea to call for back-up and wait till you have the forces to-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Bruce interrupted, his eye twitching at the glare Babs threw his way. “We can handle it - right, boys?”

Damian sniffed proudly and produced some knives from who knows where. Duke nodded confidently.

Bruce grunted, and motioned for them to fall in line behind him. Barbara watched with her precise gaze as Bruce, Duke, and Damian made their way down the stairs. They didn’t turn the lights on, going for optimal stealth as were, and moved slowly downward.

“Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious,” Duke sang under his breath a little ways after the halfway point down the stairs.

“Making noise is very suspicious, Thomas.” Damian muttered.

“Quiet, Boys,” Bruce snapped before Duke could make a comeback, “We’re almost there.”

As soon as the doors to the Cave opened, they scattered and melted into the shadows. Duke just managed to see Damian crawl up the side of the cave wall, but didn’t see where Bruce went. He didn’t have much time to worry about that, though, as he was hiding himself among equipment that lined the sides of the space.

The path he had chosen gave him an easy pass to circle the main platform, and gage the situation. And boy was it a situation. Because, you see, like Barbara said, they were not the only ones in the cave. They were just the only sentient ones.

The elevator dinged, and Barbara rolled out and into the light. “Are those Manikins?” She asked, incredulous.

*****

Duke smirked proudly at the sight before him, the same sight that left the others outraged and confused

Someone, somehow (It was Duke, and through much hard labour during some time while the bats were actually asleep - he got someone to cover his patrol, this bright young girl called Maps to do it. She said she was a friend of Damian’s, and quite skilled with a grappling hook. Tim had mentioned her before, so Duke wasn’t surprised.) managed to get dozens of manikins - those hyper mobile ones that you can personalise their positions - and spread them out across the cave. And not just that, they had managed to stylize them after each member of the family.

The manikins also seemed to be moving around at preset speeds, through some mysterious robotic means (Duke mentally thanked the stars that Bruce didn’t bat an eye at someone purchasing thirty roombas with his credit card.).

The first manikin, the one that caught everyone’s eye, was clearly meant to represent Stephanie. It was doused in complete purple, the exact shade of her suit and automated to throw the glitter bombs stored in a sack by its side at seemingly everything - though apparently mainly at the nearest authority figure.

Said authority figure was obviously Bruce, who was moving slowly in wide arcs around the chaos. It was wearing one of those ghost costumes, (you know the ones with just a sheet and cut out holes? Yeah, that’s Bruce.) except with a black sheet. And two plastic forks taped to either side of the head to imitate Bat ears. Though by this point it was also covered in purple glitter, thanks to Steph.

Somehow, the figure right next to Bruce was completely untouched by the purple sparkles, despite wearing the exact same outfit as Bruce’s manikin, plastic forks and all. (Although to be fair, this one was significantly shorter.) Though this mystery could easily be solved by the fact that it was Cass. Well, that explains pretty much everything, actually.

Nearest to Bruce and his mini-me at that point in the rotation was a toddler sized, bright green manikin that represented none other than the current Robin. And if that weren’t enough, think of Edward Scissor Hands. Now imagine those knives and blades and such taped over the whole body. Now you have an accurate picture of Damian Wayne in Manikin form. Honestly, it wasn’t that far off.

Humans weren’t the only things replaced in the Cave, as just by Damian were little dog, cat, and cow statues. And a giant bat stuffie colored red.

Bruce’s manikin had to stop it’s wide arc and jerk suddenly to the side to avoid the next member of the family. Tim Drake’s stand-in was barely visible underneath the six foot tall pile of bulk coffee bean bags stacked around it.

Right behind Tim was a large manikin painted blood red, wearing a faux pink leather jacket with sparkles and rhinestones glued it. It looked like it was meant for a six year old girl. What didn’t look like it was meant for a child, though, were the strips of ammunition draped across its shoulders like a fancy scarf. The look was completed by a large red bucket dumped haphazardly over the head of the manikin.

To the side of the Cave, just barely out of the war path that was The Red Bucket, was something different. Instead of a manikin like you would find in the clothing store, a halloween decoration was set up. And not just any decoration: A life-sized recreation of Dracula that looked so cheap, it was probably bought at Party City for ten bucks. (Hey, it was on sale! Duke wasn’t one to ignore such a spectacular bargain!). The only thing customized about it was the cheap, long, cherry red wig perched precariously on its head. Hey, everyone always said Kate looked an awful lot like a vampire!

The simplest manikin was somehow one of the most recognizable. Painted plain white, it was mostly unadorned with the exception of “007” painted across the chest in big, black, block letters. Now who could that be? It wasn’t like the Bats casually knew a british spy.

But all of that is fairly sane, compared to the … others.

In one corner of the room, a manikin was on fire. Completely on fire. The blaze was huge. Somehow, the manikin itself wasn’t on fire, though. One got the impression that it was supposed to be reminiscent of the burning bush story, or perhaps a phoenix. Ha, phoenix. Flamebird. Duke hoped he wasn’t the only one who found that funny.

Dick’s was on a complicated zip line pulley type system thingy. It was upside down and twisted into a pretzel for a bit, then it reached a checkpoint and was replaced by a new “Dick” in a different position. It looks like Dick’s doing mid air acrobatics. Oh, and he’s wearing a crop top that said “I’m A Dick.”

There was yet another all-green manikin seated on a hover chair that looked suspiciously like alien tech taken from the Watchtower. There was a face drawn on, and it was emulating the Oracle Symbol.

Hidden amongst the shadows in the corner was another manikin, barely within sight. It was resting luxuriously in a clawfoot bathtub, which was filled with jewels of all kinds. Upon its shoulders were multiple cat stuffed animals.

Duke grinned at his crowning achievement, the one that is easily the most terrifying. The one that is undoubtedly the Taser Girl herself: Harper Row.

What made this one different? Well, that’s because Harper was not, in fact, a manikin. Instead, the figure was not unlike a stick figure made completely out of metal pipes. The bottom was attached to an encased roomba which was currently going in wide, swooping arcs. The arms are raised triumphantly overhead. (Duke may or may not have spent three hours in front of the Hellmo meme, making sure that it was perfect). And, of course, it was conducting bright blue crackling electricity. (Duke had gotten the idea from one of those science experiment things that is made of lightning, and will every so often shoot a bolt and light something on fire. Minus the fire part. He didn’t have a death wish .)

It was just then that some lightning arced out and set an extra manikin that had been lying about on fire.

Duke cringed internally, but his mood wasn’t dampened for long. He took one look at the other Bats present, and muffled a snort of amusement. They were positively shocked - even Babs! That in and of itself was an utter victory for Duke. It got even better when they slowly separated and began to wander the Cave in wonder and horror. Duke split off as well, and hid behind the Dinosaur.

He almost tripped, however, on one of the babies. Yeah, Babies. Around the legs of the dinosaur, on their own roombas, were inflatable versions of the giant T-Rex. Somehow (maaaaybe with a touch of fiddling with controls), they were even faster than the moving people. They were zipping around and crashing into each other. When Duke hit one, though, it activated a system he had put in place which suddenly unleashed a gigantic roar throughout the Cave via the soundsystem.

The Dinosaurs weren’t the only extra addition to the native wildlife, though. Bats, hundreds of them, were replaced with stuffed animal versions of themselves, and painstakingly hung from string to the stalactites at the top of the cave, like a giant mobile.

Duke peaked out from the side of the wide space where he had been inspecting his own work to gage the situation with the other members of his family. The shock seemed to have worn off by that point, replaced with mixed reactions. Bruce was growing increasingly frustrated, Babs was trying not to laugh, and Damian was secretly pleased, enjoying the look on his father’s face.

Duke chuckled to himself as he went back to looking around in the nooks and crannies where smaller details - like the glow sticks representing glow worms - are set up. He had to admit, when he had set all of this up in two-days-without-sleep haze, he hadn’t actually been sure if it actually looked good. Two minutes later, and Duke was absolutely sure that this was in the top fifteen best Bat-Pranks, He’d have to petition for it to be added at the next meeting.

A sudden clamor came from the Batcomputer, and Duke grinned before practically skipping over to see what was the matter. This will be fun, he thought.

Upon his arrival, he knew it was true.

“Holy shit!” He crowed joyfully upon catching sight of the one manikin that had been missing earlier: his own.

Duke’s manikin was draped in gold curtains - clearly from the South Wing’s Music Room - to look like a toga, and sitting on a throne. Literally. (Bruce just had one lying about in the Attic) The throne rested on a huge platform covered in jewels (also taken from the treasure chest in the Attic). A light setup in the crannies of the Cave’s ceiling shot out beams of ‘disco’ light. Thin black vales hang from the ceiling to give the ominous feel of shadows. And, in case there was any confusion, a golden plaque rests at the base, and is engraved with the words “The Duke of Gotham. Bow Before Your Ruler.”

It’s beautiful, Duke thought ecstatically, so much better than I could have ever dreamed!

He promptly burst into laughter.

Bruce growled in frustration. “This is not funny, Duke.”

“I dunno, B,” Duke shrugged, “I sure think it is!”

“It is not. This is a defacement of the cave, plain and simple. And a poor use of resources to boot. This space is supposed to be efficient, a place that aids in the mission - and are those my Great Aunt Matilda’s emeralds?”

Duke shrugged again as Bruce was set off onto an even longer rant about wasting everyone’s time and abilities since they were going to have to clean it all up. Duke was mostly tuning Bruce out by that point.

“-if you are being flattered by the prankster, that is a clear sign of them trying to get you on their side.”

Duke froze and did a double take. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I didn’t train you to be so easily manipulated.”

Duke coughed. “Uh, I think you got this mixed up, B. See that? That’s me on the throne. Clearly this whole prank was organized by me.”

Bruce stared at Duke for a solid three seconds. Babs was covering her mouth to avoid a giggling fit, or maybe just out of shock. Damian was frowning at Duke.

Bruce’s right eye twitched. “Duke, no need to be sarcastic.”

Duke opened his mouth to argue some more, to explain just how wrong Bruce was, when said Dark Knight whipped around and stalked towards the elevator. He froze, though, when he stepped in front of Damian.

There wasn’t even a moment's pause before Bruce was glaring down at his youngest son with resigned, tired eyes. “Damian, how many times have I told you that more knives are not better? You gave yourself away.”

Damian screeched in indignation, and raced to follow Bruce out, demanding for Bruce to see reason.

“Father, you are being ridiculous!”

But his cries were quickly silenced by the closing of the elevator doors, leaving just Duke and Barbara in the Bat Cave.

Babs pivoted to look to Duke and shrugged. “Sorry kid, but he’s just stubborn.”

Duke blinked in confusion as she wheeled away. Had she always known? Scratch that - she was Oracle. Of course Barbara knew.

Duke collapsed at the foot of his throne, and put his head in his hands. Next time, he promised himself, no one else is gonna be there. No one else can take the credit.

*****

“He’s really trying, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Well, this will be fun to watch.”

“Yes.”

“Should we just tell Bruce and be over with it?”

“…”

“Yes, you’re right Cass. We wait and watch.”

#damian wayne #duke thomas #bruce wayne #barbara gordon #batfam #duke thomas big bang #dtbb21 #fanfiction #my fanfiction

17 notes · View notes