#Series: Roses and Thorns (Name Yourself) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jeonginsleftcheek · 3 months ago

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The sun to me

Chapter XIII. Bleed.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x afab!reader

word count: 1.8k

chapter summary: a blanket of darkness covers your soul as it screams for her lover to return.

warnings: character death, chapter goes back and forth in time, very angsty

~ Masterlist for the series

~ next part

🪻Anemone - abandonment.

Two months later...

The sun kept climbing higher in the sky, the days became longer and the nights warmer, tourists were slowly pouring onto the island, giving you something to immerse yourself in as you created many bouquets with your tired hands.

You buried yourself with as much work as you could, even if your fingers got pricked by the thorns on the roses you touched, you continued, not caring if you bleed.

All the happy smiles around you and the cheerful voices only made you feel even worse.

You had sent a letter to Hyunjin, and you never got one back.

You had tried calling him, but never got an answer either.

Every sliver of hope slowly died every day, even when you walked into your garden, finding that sunny corner where the two of you had kneeled, planting petunias together, your hands dipped into the earth.

They had blossomed fully as you slowly withered.

Hot tears slid down your cheeks, hitting the delicate petals and making them bend under the weight of your pain.

Your worst fear had come true.

Hyunjin had forgotten you.

He had gone back to the big city and replaced you with something or someone else.

The sharp pain when your heart shattered into pieces became a dull ache inside your chest, every single star in your eye has died, only darkness enveloping your soul.

You would wake up and go to work, spending the day in your flower shop and garden, reclusive in your house for the rest of the evening, not even visiting the restaurant anymore since it was lively with people visiting from everywhere.

They took away your cove, your beach, your hill, your forest, even the little island was tainted and you were forced into a dark corner of your mind.

Life had taken away your love, your only hope in this cold world and you were left with nothing, slaving away in your garden just like your mother did.

Lying in your bed at night, you would cry as you stared up into the sky, clutching onto the necklace that Hyunjin gave you, never once taking it off.

Slowly, as you had lost faith that he'll ever answer, you locked away his paintings and the clothes he left, but you couldn't say goodbye to the piece of jewelry that he seemed to adore.

Your tears had dried over the time, replaced with new ones when a knock came on your door.

"Catherine?"- you swallow, quickly fixing up your messy hair.

"Hey, I brought you some lemon lime cake."- she gave you a sad smile.

Pity, that's what was written on her face and you hated being looked at like that.

"Thanks."

"I have some news to share, they're not really good so I'd like for you to sit down."- she says with a serious expression on her face as you walk in and place the cake on the table.

Your heart sinks even further into the black hole inside you and you slowly sit down.

Under the yellow light of the kitchen, Catherine can see your prominent under-eye circles and the exhaustion on your face, the dull pain in your eyes, the tremble of your chapped lips as you inhale shakily.

It only makes it harder for her to be the bearer of bad news.

"Isaac had a heart attack. He died last night."- she says quietly.

You sit there, stunned for a few moments, your mouth going dry.

The constant pain in your heart becomes stronger as your stomach churns.

"W-what?"- you utter, a bitter taste forming in your mouth.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I know you were close to him as was... Hyunjin."- she says his name in a hushed tone and tears prick at your eyes.

"I'd like to be alone."- you stand up quickly.

"Are you sure? I can-"

"I appreciate it, Cath. I really do. I just can't. I need to process, okay?"- you say and she nods understandingly.

"Okay, but if you need us, you know where to find us. Don't hesitate to reach out."- she squeezes your hand for a moment, a sympathetic smile on her face before she stands up and leaves.

You sit in your kitchen, your tears a river as you process all the hurt stemming back from your mother dying to Hyunjin leaving you to someone close to a father figure also disappearing from your life.

You need Hyunjin more than ever, need him to hold you, need him to comfort you, to love you.

Your heart is dying inside your chest and you can't seem to grip onto any ray of hope or happiness.

Now, you feel like you're truly all alone.

Your task is simple yet heavy as your hands weave the thread between the stems of the arranged carnations, the bouquet that will be laid on Isaac's grave after his body gets lowered into the soil to feed the creatures meandering in the dirt.

With tears blurring your vision you finish the flower arrangement and make your way to the funeral together with a few other residents.

The funeral was big, everyone on the island adored Isaac and they came to see him off to another life.

Sad faces and big tears streaming down puffy cheeks were everywhere around you; Barbara was there wheezing as she blew her nose into a napkin, Delmar as he stared off into the distance with wet eyes, Bennet and Catherine as they silently held onto each other while she cried.

All of the other residents gloomy and murmuring how he's gone too soon, how he had more life to live, how they'll miss him making his little sculptures and his signature furniture for them.

As the gravel crunches beneath your feet while you make your way back to your house, you think of one morning almost a month and a half ago.

You've just finished putting up Hyunjin's art, the paintings he left as a gift to you now adorning your walls, replacing your old paintings that you had made years ago.

A knock sounds on your door just as you admire the fresh look of your kitchen and you make your way towards it.

Opening the door, you find Isaac standing there.

"Oh, hi Isaac!"- you smile at him.

"Hi, y/n. May I come in?"

"Of course, I can put on the kettle?"- you say as you close the door behind the man.

"You know me well."- the two of you chuckle.

"So, what brings you here?"

"Am I not allowed to visit you?"- the man laughs.

"No, of course you are. You just rarely come down from your house, is all."

"Well, I can't deny that. I just wanted to see you and bring this to you."- he takes a little wooden owl out of his jacket pocket.

"Oh, did you make this?"- you ask, taking the little creature in your hand.

"No, it's Hyunjin's first sculpture. He left it behind, I found it next to the nightstand. It must've fallen while he was hurriedly packing just so he can spend as much time as he could with you."- he explains and your cheeks warm up, heart beating fast in your chest.

"It's so cute."- you chuckle.

"It is. I wanted you to have it."- Isaac smiles. "Did you hear from him?"

"Not yet, I mean it's been two weeks but I wrote him a letter. I'm waiting for the ship to come around so I can send it."- you smile.

"Ah, a letter. So romantic."- Isaac chuckles, sipping on his tea. "Hyunjin is a really good man, y/n. And he's lucky to have you."- he adds.

"Thank you, Isaac."- you smile warmly at the man.

"Oh no, thank you both. You've made me very happy, like you were my own kids."- he nods as you trace the indents of the wooden owl.

It stands on your shelf still and quiet, its eyes and wings closed, reminding you of that evening you sat and talked with Isaac, not knowing it would be the last time ever.

It is sad but true what they say; the heart really cherishes something more once it's gone.

My Jinnie,

I haven't written a letter in a long time so I might be rusty at this but here I am. I'm writing to tell you I miss you, but you probably already know that. It's like a piece of me left on the ship with you, and I need to have it back so I can feel complete. I don't want to make you sad with my letter though, I know you're probably stressed in the city now. Ah, I hope it's treating you better than before. Nothing really special is happening here, except that our petunias will blossom very soon; I wish you were here to witness it. I will send a sketch of them with the letter to you. I also think I wanna put up your paintings instead of my old ones, what do you think?

Well, I'm waiting for you to come back and thinking of you every day. I can't wait to be in your arms again. I love you so much, my lover.

Yours forever,

Y/n.

And you had waited every day since you handed the letter over, checking your mailbox, asking the postman about it, but you never got anything.

You tried to comfort yourself and convince your heart that something must be happening if he's not answering, but you also know that Hyunjin would swim the ocean just to kiss you so you started to fall into despair more and more each day.

You tried calling him from the restaurant's phone but the number he gave you no longer existed.

With the time passing by, and the days bleeding into one another, you started thinking you dreamed him up, hallucinated him, that he only ever existed as a figment of your imagination cause nothing that good ever lasts.

It was too perfect to be real and you were now faced with the hard truth, Hyunjin has left you.

Your thoughts became darker and colder, as you slowly deteriorated, withered and faded away into the shadows, back where you always thought you belonged.

The scared little girl that her mother never cared for was staring at you in the mirror, abandoned once again by someone she loved.

Everything you once held dear had lost meaning, even your flowers and your sketchbooks, the pain that ate away at you was the only thing you felt.

You wanted to scream and tear out the flowers, pluck them out of the ground, burn the sketchbooks and disappear but you did none of those things, only continued existing day after day after day, always the same.

You stopped checking your mailbox at one point.

You stopped crying too.

You had become a but a shadow of yourself.

You thought before that you weren't the girl who gets the guy, the main character of the story and now you were convinced more than ever that it was true.

You found all the little pieces of Hyunjin in your house and locked them away in a box, locked them away in your broken heart.

As months went by, and came to this point, you sitting in your garden in a black dress after Isaac's funeral, you spiraled into complete darkness.

Nothing really matters anymore.

Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @laughatdanger @lixies-favorite-cookie @linavc @quokkacidal @thisaintredwine @m00gyu @yaorzu-blog @skzfelixlove @tajannah-price1 @puccaaak @aft2rsexs @xxkissesforchanniexx @aprilmaejune77 @lilmeowneow @stayjinnie @astrobebba @danihwang882 @kaysungshine @nchhuhi @1810cl @chartrucewhore @babigriin @jisuperboard @alisonyus @minluvly @instantsoulnight @kkamismom12 @its-stayville-forever @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @lemonadeboun @eastjonowhere

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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year ago

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Kinktober 2023, Day 6

Take The Time

Summary: Every morning you wake up from your worst night. The entire night relentlessly being chased. And each night your will to outrun him was waning. He didn’t seem so bad. And every morning you missed Bucky even more. He had been gone for so long, with no thought of returning. So why were you running from your nightmare? And why were you so so exhausted? When he touched you, why could you still feel it? And why was the rose he gave you now in your bed?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, implied non con (sleeping), chasing, stalking/obsession, kidnapping, brief bondage, voyeurism, unprotected sex, PIV sex, manhandling, taunting, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.7K

Series Masterlist

You jolt up in your bed. Chest heaving as you take short shallow breaths. Looking around to find you’ve managed to be in your bed. The recurring dream — nightmare leaves you feeling disoriented in the morning. Everything seems so real. And you wake up breathless.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you take count of your body. Things are sore. Like you had really been running. Had been chased all night by some masked man. You were running less and less. Slowing down because you wanted to see his face. You couldn’t tell if he was chasing you because he wanted to kill you or if he just wanted you.

He didn’t seem angry as he chased you. He seemed…worried. He was trying to warn you of something, but what? The only thing you cared about was finding where your boyfriend has been.

Picking up your phone, you make the same call as you do every morning. His best friend’s voice groans as he answers, “We haven’t heard from him. I told you I would let you know if there are any leads.”

“Steve, I don’t think he’s that far away,” your voice trails off as you look at your bedside table. A single pink rose and no thorns. There was only one person who ever did that for you.

Steve repeats your name several times before you realize he had been speaking, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Could you please answer me?”

“Steve, there’s…I have a pink rose, and the thorns have been pulled off.”

“I’m on my way,” Steve was well aware of Bucky’s favorite thing to leave behind for you. It was always a pink rose. Red was cliche, and harsh. Pink was your color. Delicate, feminine, sweet. And every time he painstakingly pulled off each of the thorns. No one would ever hurt you while he was around. Not even an inanimate object or a plant.

You walk into the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror, you look like shit. A few weeks without sleeping would do that to you. You wanted to tell Steve not to come by. What good would it do? If it was Bucky that left that rose behind, he didn’t want to be seen. If it was someone else, Bucky no longer cares for your safety. Your will in the real world was dwindling just as much as your dream self. You didn’t want to chase for him anymore. You just wanted to know he was okay.

——

You turn to look over your shoulder, and the masked man is gaining on you. A few more strides, and he would be close enough to capture you. You pump your arms harder, and run just a bit faster. It is exhilarating to know that the monstrosity of a man was putting up such a fight because of you.

Reaching out his hand, you swerve out of the way before he actually touches you. Giggling at the fact that he missed. He growls under his mask, and it causes you to slow enough that he pulls you into his body with body arms.

“You’re not fighting,” his voice is deep on your neck, and your body goes limp. You shake your head no because you didn’t care. The thrill was now gone, and replaced with something more. Lust.

There is something in his voice that was oddly familiar, and your body craved it more than you did. “Mmm,” he sniffs up your neck as his hands roam over your body. Dipping lower, until his hands wrap around your thighs. Jerking them apart, and his hands fully explore between your legs.

“Heaven,” he moans, and you lean your head back on his shoulder. This shouldn’t be as comforting as it is, but you’re prepared to let him have you. It was only a dream after all.

He palms you over your panties, because of course you’re just running around in Bucky’s shirt and panties just like you went to sleep. Letting you get good and comfortable in his embrace before slipping off his glove. His nimble fingers move under the elastic of your panties, and you moan when he enters three fingers into your body.

Giving you no time to adjust before his hand barrels into you. You have to bite onto his neck the harder he pushes. His moans and grunts add to your pleasure.

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine,” ringing in your ear.

——

Your eyes burst open, and you take a haggard breath. A deep soreness in your core. Your face has been planted in your pillow, and now you struggle to get up. How tense were you in your sleep to cause this much tenderness?

You whimper, twisting your body over, and there lies another rose. This time with a glove. Not just any glove. His. You aren’t dreaming. And you want him. But he’s not Bucky.

You cover your face with your hands allowing the tears you have held in for too long pour out. Rivers of saline drift down your face when Steve rushes to your side, “What is going on?”

“You’ve been here?”

“All night,” he looks to the table, and grits his teeth, “Son of a bitch. Where did that come from?”

“H-h-he had to have left it, but who is he? Steve!” You scream as he storms off. “Steve!” He doesn’t turn back to look at you. “Who is he?”

“I think it’s Bucky,” you shake your head no, but he doesn’t see. “The rose. The glove. I think we found him, but not before he found you,” he spins around to look at you. Covering your face with his hand when everything fades to black.

——

Groggily you open up your eyes, and try to move. Stuck. This isn’t a dream. This shouldn’t be a reality. Roses. Gloves. Bucky. Masked man. Steve. Tied up, and stretched out. What was happening?

There was no way to get out of your predicament. The cuffs on your arms and legs are tight. Keeping you wide and spread for whoever was coming in here. The good thing is you have clothes. For now.

This is so stupid. Steve did this. There is a weird recurring dream, and Bucky is still missing. But Steve said…Bucky found you. Lights turn on into your hellhole of a room and your eyes clench close.

The person in the room inhales deeply before your bed dips down with your weight, and you peek your eyes open, “Steve?”

“You know, you have caused a lot of problems for us,” he begins. His hand taps you on your leg, and you pull it back. Hearing a low rumble outside of the door.

“Us?”

“His mind is just too powerful. Your stupid fucking rose alerted me of just why he can’t complete a damn mission because he keep going to see your pathetic self,” Steve’s hand slams on the bed, and a feral scream echoes into the hall.

“Ahh, shut up! I am not talking to you!” He screams, standing up to open the door, pulling in the masked man, and you retreat away. Being tied up was the moving difficult. “See, she’s not hurt,” the man turns and glares at Steve, pointing a finger at your restraints. “She’ll run away.”

The man shakes his head no, turning to look at you with the softest of eyes, and you know who he is instantly. “What did you do to him?” You pout, and Bucky tries to step towards you

“He’s a weapon,” Steve shrugs his arms. “But you — you invade his mind so much that he can’t even be that. And it wasn’t until he left that fucking pink rose for you that I realized where he was going when he wasn’t on a leash. My god, I should have known. You have poisoned him from the beginning. But I am giving the two of you a gift. I am allowing him to sleep in here with you when his brain isn’t being turned into mush. And when he finally forgets, we’ll dispose of you.”

Bucky growls, pushing Steve up against the wall. His forearm presses into his neck, but Steve laughs maniacally. “I can make you watch as we destroy her. Loosen your grip,” Bucky backs away immediately, keeping a protective stance around you.

“Sweetheart, if I let your precious boyfriend have fun with you, will you try and escape?” Those crystal blue eyes turn to look at you with the most pleading face. He isn’t as vocal as Bucky once was. He looks scared, and you can’t leave him.

“I won’t escape,” your lip trembles. You wouldn’t escape now. But you’re also taking Bucky with you.

“Good. Soldier, have your fun. Pump her full of cum, beat her, fuck her until she passes out, I don’t care. You understand he might not be the man you remember. He’s a machine.”

Steve turns on his heels, walking out of the room, “And you’re a monster. Bucky?” His head tilts to the side as he walks closer to you. Gently undoing your binding, and you sit up in the bed to remove his mask. Your hand presses gently up against his cheek, and you sob out his name.

“I thought I lost you. Won’t you say something?”

He struggles to say your name, and you brush away his hair, crawling into his lap. “It’s okay. I know what you mean. I got your roses. They can’t take away your heart, huh? Just your words,” his gloved hand pets up and down your back, and it infuriates you. “Take that off. I want to feel your skin.”

“Yeah — yes,” he says robotically, removing the material that keeps him from you. His hand touches your back, and you melt into him. He smells different, but that underlying musk of Bucky that was his natural scent is still there.

“Miss — you.”

“I missed you, too. Dreamed about you every night.”

“Not — dream. Me,” sitting back, you look up at him. Giving him the softest chaste kiss. “Me.”

“I did feel you. But you weren’t really chasing me were you?” He shakes his head smiling. “So I was dreaming, and you were touching?”

“Sorry,” his glove free hand pets up and down your sensitive neck before struggling to put it away. Bucky loved feeling his hand around your neck, and now there is a fear to touch you in that way.

“What if,” you lick your dry lips, eyes flitting around his face when you get the courage to speak. “What if I let you touch me? I’m not dreaming, or sleeping. I’m here. Apparently I am your toy to play with, so play. You…you can put me back in the restraints if you need to”

His brow furrows, and he shakes his head no. “You don’t have to hunt me. You don’t have to wait until I’m sleeping, I’m right here telling you I want you to have me. I’m leaving. But not without you. And…we’ll get out of this. We always do.”

Bucky lifts you off his lap to lay flat on the bed. Lifting up his shirt, he cheekily smiles at your covered core before rubbing the shirt in between his fingers. “Mine?”

You pull his hand down to your center. Letting him flatten his hand against you, “Yours,” a deep low growl rumbles up his chest, followed by a sigh. “It’s always been yours, Bucky.”

Sitting back up, you remove his shirt, and he looks over to the corner of the room, cameras. “Let them watch. I just want you,” you shimmy out of your panties, becoming completely nude while he is still in his gear. “However you want me,” you urge him closer. Taking off his other glove so you can weave your fingers in his.

Touch with Bucky has always been electric, and this is no different. He straightens up with your touch. Eyes opening up to show a bit more life to them. Getting to his knees, he undoes his pants, pulling them down just enough to free his cock, and you chirp at the sight of him.

“Yours,” he cocks his brow up, before using his thick body to spread you out further. Grabbing the base of his cock, he flicks your clit with his tip. Over and over again until you’re completely needy and squirming for him. Your arousal leaks out onto the bed, but this Bucky doesn’t stop. He wants to torture you with pleasure.

“Bucky!” Your fingers cling to his forearm as you urge him closer to you, but he still sits there flicking your clit, and teasing your entrance. “Bucky, take it. Take all of me. You already have.”

His breathing stutters, and your eyes blow wide open as he thrusts himself completely into you. Giving you seconds to adjust to his wide girth before he rails into you. There isn’t anything sweet about this moment. You’ve had sweet. This is Bucky reclaiming what was always his. Raw and forceful, and all James Bucky Barnes.

His hands slam above your head onto the bed frame. Wood splinters above your head, creaking under his pressure, but you only see Bucky. Much too dressed for your liking, but it was him. Powerful. Dangerous. Hard. But the softness in his eyes remains.

He is everything that you have ever wanted, and so much more. Even in this state, he is perfect. More than any man could ever amount to. He is Bucky. And he is yours. There is a fearful look on his face now. But he never gave up. He always finds you. He promised you he would, and he kept that promise.

Pulling himself out of you he wraps his arm around your waist, and forces you onto your knees, pushing your head down into the mattress before grabbing at your hips, and cramming himself back inside. You grip tightly to the sheets, centering yourself, and trying to remain present. This was always your favorite position. Letting Bucky use you completely, and it makes you a mess.

Squirting out how good it feels, and he goes harder. The bed lurches with every rock into your body. Eyes rolling into the back of the bed as you thank the stars above for giving Bucky back to you.

“And you think she is going to be the secret?” A man looks over towards Steve who was scowling at the monitor. He hated watching Bucky with you. He never deserved you. And no matter what he did, Bucky always found you. Desperation caused this, and he still found you.

“He’s not fighting anymore, is he?” Steve asks the man. Bucky just wanted you. You were his biggest weakness.

“Maybe he wouldn’t have fought, if you didn’t tease him. What was it you told him? You got to sink into her every fucking night? That you were going to breed her like your little bitch?” Steve shrugs his shoulders, trying to fight his impending hard on.

“I’m guessing you never got to fuck her?”

“It’s more complicated than that. She was only worried about Bucky. She didn’t even think about…I didn’t have time to try because that asshole kept needing to see her, and now she’s here, and…I hate him,” Steve grunts as Bucky smirks up at the camera.

Tilting his head back he lets out a guttural moan as he goes harder and faster than he ever has. Your body is completely flat on the bed now, trembling with pleasure as you look back at Bucky. He is different, and somehow still the same. He is enjoying himself, and your pleasure has always been his.

Hands hold tightly to your ass, spreading you apart so he can watch where the two of you connect. “I love you, Bucky,” your voice is barely audible, but he heard it. Crying out your name as he slams into yourself one last time before his thick cream paints your walls, and you moan at the warmth of his added seed.

“I love you, too,” such sweet sounds coming from him. Slowly he pulls himself out of you, and lifts up your ass, pointing to your gaping hole before looking back at the camera. “Mine. Not yours.”

“Who…who’s watching.”

“Him. Shh, go to sleep. Don’t worry. You’re mine.”

“And you are mine.”

“Forever and…”

“Always,” he would forever be yours. Nothing could ever change that. And nothing ever would.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @missusbarnes-rogers @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @buckybarnesisdaddy @magnificentsaladllama @tittittoee

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starryevermore · 10 months ago

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the house of snow (16) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: coriolanus gets to enjoy you.

word count: 1,725

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, oral (f receiving), fluff, pet name (petal)

Coriolanus picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and carried you to his room. Your room, he decided. To hell with these separate sleeping arrangements. He was not going to let you out of his sight ever again. All of this time apart only made you more anxious, made more uncertain of his feelings for you. If he had to be attached at your side for the rest of your life just to remind you that he cared for you, he would do it. He would do anything for your love.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. You kissed him harder, as if you could taste his love if you tried hard enough. “I love you than a thorn loves its rose.”

“Are you the thorn to my rose?”

“I am whatever you wish me to be.”

Coriolanus kicked the bedroom door behind him and carried you over to the bed. He set you down on the edge, then dropped to his knees. He reached up your skirt, grabbing the edge of one stocking and pulling it down, then the other. Your hand gripped his hair, pushing him closer to where you wanted him to be.

“Patience, petal,” he laughed as he removed your underwear. “I want to enjoy this as much as you do.”

He pushed your skirts up, leaving you fully exposed to him. He had half a mind to rip the dress right off of you, but that could wait. He truly did want to enjoy this. You had finally opened up to him, told him your worries and your fears. Coriolanus wanted to reward you for that. Wanted to show you that all would be well if you trusted him.

You let out a whine as he pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses up your beautiful, plush thighs. Ever since your wedding night, he had been craving your legs wrapped around his head. If you had continued to ice him out, he would have dropped to his knees and begged for your forgiveness in the only way he knew might get you to respond to him. This was better, though. For you to open yourself up to him.

When he finally reached your core, he couldn’t hold back any longer. Coriolanus wrapped his lips around your clitoris, giving it a harsh suck. Your hips lifted off the bed, grinding down on his face. Your hand, still gripping his hair, tugged harshly on his roots. A moan escaped his lips. Oh, yes, this was exactly what Coriolanus wanted. His pretty little petal behaving so good for him, letting him worship you as if that was all he was made to do.

Coriolanus wrapped his arms around your hips, urging your legs to rest on his shoulders. He felt your ankles lock together, one of your heels digging into his back. Perfect. You were so perfect, so responsive to him. “I love you,” he said as if it were prayer before he pushed his tongue in.

You were so fucking wet for him. He had barely done anything, and yet you were dripping. He collected your juices on his tongue, savoring the taste, committing it to memory. Though he planned to spend every night for the rest of his life between your legs, he never wanted to forget this. If he should ever lose his brilliant mind, if he should never be as intelligent as he is now, he wanted to remember what it felt like to eat your cunt like it was his favorite meal.

“Coryo, ah—” you cried out, tugging harder on his hair. “Too much—”

No—not enough.

Your thighs trembled. You were so close. Coriolanus swiped his tongue along your clit, moaning as you closed your legs around his head, trapping him there as you chased your high. They only slackened after you came undone with a shout. He pulled away, pressing another kiss to your thigh, before sitting back, admiring the mess you had become.

“I love you, petal,” he said.

You offered him a sleepy smile. “You keep saying that.”

“And I will keep saying it until you believe it.” Coriolanus crawled up your body. When he laid over you, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “And I will keep saying it long after.”

“I didn’t know you could be so sweet,” you confessed.

Coriolanus huffed out a laugh, then kissed you again. “Only for you. Everyone else can think what they wish of me.”

You reached up, carding your fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered shut. He loved how much you touched his hair. Could he make you play with it forever? What would his advisors think if he demanded you attend every meeting with him just so you could pet his hair? “You don’t mean that. You don’t become king by letting people think whatever of you.”

“No, you don’t become king like that. But when you are king…The only thing that could get you removed is doing a piss poor job. And we both know that I’m too brilliant for that.”

You giggled and pulled him down for another kiss. “So egotistical,” you tease.

“I’ve earned it. I have an intelligent, beautiful wife. I am clever. I am King. What else could a man dream of?”

You hum, sliding your hands down his chest. You pull at the end of his shirt, untucking it from his pants. Coriolanus’s brows pinch together. “I am sure you could dream of a few things.”

He says nothing, watching as you move to undo the buttons of his shirt. But when you move to push the fabric off his shoulders, he stops you. “What are you doing, petal?”

“I…Did you not do…that, because you wanted to make love?” you asked.

Coriolanus shook his head. “I ate your cunt because I wanted to.” You looked away. He put two fingers under your chin, guiding your gaze back to him. “Were you only going to fuck me because you still think its your duty?”

You blinked up at him. “My mama said that a wife should make herself available for her husband.”

“That might be the case in her marriage, but it will not be in ours. I will only, as you say, make love to you if you want it as much as I do. I will not, I cannot, settle for anything less.”

“But, you’re a man.”

“So?”

“Aren’t men supposed to want these things?” you asked. “My mama said that men only care about their own pleasure. Why should it matter what I want?”

“Am I like other men, petal?”

“Well, no.”

“Then why should you think I would be like them in this regard?” Coriolanus paused. He sat up, resting on the backs of his legs. He took your hands, also pulling you into a sitting position. “Is this why you ran on our wedding night? Because you didn’t want me to force you?”

You looked away. He tried to chase after your gaze, but you were stubborn like an ox. “I didn’t know I could bleed from it. I thought…I thought laying with you had made me unable to discern pleasure from pain, and that terrified me.”

“Oh, petal,” Coriolanus cooed. He pulled your head against his chest. You relaxed in his hold. “All women bleed from their first time. It has nothing to do with pain. Did I hurt you that night?”

“No.” Your voice was muffled against his chest.

“I want you to tell me if I ever do. I only want to lay with you if you are enjoying it as much as I am. More than I am, preferably. ” Coriolanus titled your head up so that he may look into your eyes. “Do you understand? I…I will admit that I may have forced you into this marriage, to a degree, but I don’t want any part of your love, of your affection to be forced.”

Your eyes searched his. Oh, how he wished he could read your mind. He wished he could worm his way inside, figure out why you think the way you do. Had he not made his intentions with you clear? Had it not been so obvious that all Coriolanus wanted was your love? Perhaps he had spent too much time slithering his way to the top. Perhaps he forgot what it was like to show someone his hand.

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you, my pretty petal. You consume me. And I hope that, one day, I can consume you in the same way.”

You were silent for a long moment, your eyes still searching his. Were you trying to read his mind like he was for you? Were you trying to peel back the layers of his brain, trying to find some hidden deception? You wouldn’t. This was the most honest Coriolanus had been in a long time. “What if I told you, you already do?”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, petal.”

“But I do mean it. You confuse my thoughts. I spend every moment trying to understand you. When I wake in the morning, I wonder how you’ll change my perception of you. When I go to bed, I let myself believe that you truly do love me. That it’s not all some façade you’ve crafted to marry a perfect Queen. When I dream, I let myself be that Queen.”

“Petal…”

“I don’t know that I can say I love you,” you admitted, “but you make me feel things I could never dream of feeling. You consume me. You say you burn for me…I don’t think I knew light until I began to know you, truly know you. If that’s love, I don’t know. But you have wormed your way inside me, and I don’t think I can ever let you out.”

Coriolanus combed his fingers through your hair. “Then don’t.”

You sucked in a breath, leaning into his hand. “I won’t, but only if you hold me.”

“Yeah?”

“I deprived you, us, of that on our wedding night. I don’t think I would like to do that again.”

“Whatever you wish for is yours.”

And as he laid back, and as you settled yourself in his arms, Coriolanus decided that this was the happiest he had ever been.

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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aphroditelovesu · 1 year ago

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.navigation

✿.｡Welcome to my blog! My name is Larissa, but feel free to call me Lari or Lady L, which is how you know me. I'm Brazilian 🇧🇷 and I was born on October 15th. English is not my first language. My pronouns are she/her and I am bisexual 💖💜💙. I am Libra ♎️ and INTP.

⤷♡. If you want to support my work or to just tip me, can you buy me a coffee? ☕️

⤷✿.Here I've gathered all my series, masterlists and some additional things to make them easier to find. Enjoy my blog, dear reader.

⤷♡.+ disclaimer: some of my works may have nsfw content in addition to the yandere genre. if you are sensitive to these topics, I recommend not reading.

⤷♡.+ genre: yandere/dark!au.

⤷♡.+ Requests are OPEN. Asks and concepts are open.

⤷♡.+ character ai: aphroditelovesu.

⤷♡.+ Rules and Fandoms List;

⤷♡.+ Emoji Prompt List + Prompts List;

⤷♡.+ Wips; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6; 7; 8;

⤷♡.+ Commissions;

‘‘Love you so bad, love you so bad, mold a pretty lie for you.’‘ ˚˖੭ Fake Love, BTS.

⤷♡.+ BTS; 💜

⤷♡.+ BLACKPINK; 🖤

⤷♡.+ ITZY; 🧡

⤷♡.+ Stray Kids; 💙

➷ EXO: Yandere Baekhyun (Romantic), Yandere Suho (Romantic).

➷ TWICE: Imagine as Classmates.

⤷♡.+ Greek Mythology; ⚡

⤷♡.+ Egyptian Mythology; 𓂀

⤷♡.+ Historical Characters; 📜

➷ The Lost Queen | Yandere!Alexander the Great ❝You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn't understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren't safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won't let you go so easily.❞ The Lost Queen Series Masterlist

⤷♡.+ The Vampire Diaries + The Originals; 🧛

⤷♡.+ House of the Dragon; 🐉

⤷♡.+ Game of Thrones; ❄️

⤷♡.+ The Sandman; ⌛

⤷♡.+ Outlander; 🗿

⤷♡.+ Wednesday; 🎻

⤷♡.+ Brooklyn Nine-Nine; 👮‍♂️

⤷♡.+ Bridgerton; 🐝

⤷♡.+ Shadow and Bone; ☠️

⤷♡.+ Outer Banks; 💰

⤷♡.+ K-Dramas; ❤️

⤷♡.+ Reign; 👑

⤷♡.+ The Tudors; 🗡️

⤷♡.+ Hannibal; 🍽

➷ The Bloody Viscount | Yandere!Anthony Bridgerton ❝You had fallen in love with Viscount Bridgerton and he had fallen in love with you. The marriage seemed perfect, but then why did Anthony Bridgerton always come home late and bloodstained?❞ Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; ➷ The Shadow of the Golden Dragon | Yandere!ASOIAF/HOTD/GOT ❝You have always been an avid reader and your greatest passion was delving into the pages of "A Song of Ice and Fire" by George R.R. Martin. You knew every character, every twist and every detail of the Seven Kingdoms as if they were part of your own life. But what you never imagined is that an unexpected encounter with a mysterious antique book seller would change your life forever.❞ The Shadow of the Golden Dragon Masterlist

⤷♡.+ Percy Jackson; 🌊

⤷♡.+ Harry Potter; 🔮

⤷♡.+ A Court of Thorns and Roses; 🌹

⤷♡.+ A Song of Ice and Fire; 🔥

‘‘We were born to be alone but why we still looking for love?’‘ ˚˖੭ Lovesick Girls, BLACKPINK.

⤷♡.+ Attack on Titan; ⚔️

⤷♡.+ Naruto; 🍥

⤷♡.+ Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir; 🐞

⤷♡.+ One Piece; 👒

⤷♡.+ How To Train Your Dragon; 🐲

⤷♡.+ Death Note; 📓

‘‘Don’t you know that you’re toxic?’’ ˚˖੭ Toxic, Britney Spears.

⤷♡.+ Marvel; ۞

‘‘I wish you would love me again, no, I don't want nobody else.’’ ˚˖੭ Love Me Again, V.

⤷♡.+ Love Letters; 💕

⤷♡.+ Love Letters II; 💕

⤷♡.+ Kinktober 2023; 🎃

➷ A Black Rose | Yandere!Ian Daerier ❝A cruel and narcissistic reaper falls in love with the woman he was supposed to take the life of.❞ Oneshot;

#navigation #masterpost #masterlist #masterlists #rules #fandoms list #prompts #emoji prompt #prompt list #yandere au #love letters #wips #yandere #dark au #📌 pinned post

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smolvenger · 7 months ago

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A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter 21 (Loki x Fem Reader Crossover Series, Court of Thorns and Roses AU)

Series Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters- Especially the events in the second book, A Court of Mist and Fury and onwards. England. 1885. You are dying of tuberculosis right before your upcoming wedding to the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter, Will Ransome. As you lay on what could be your deathbed, the god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you in time for the wedding...if you spend a week of every month with him.

Chapter Summary: You are reunited with your husband. And a new key to defeating Grendel is revealed. Prompting the beginning of several journeys across time in Midgard. Starting in Buffalo, NY, 1901.

Word Count: 6K (make some tea)

Series Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ SMUT! SMUT at the beginning!(Masturbation, penis in vagina sex). Curse Words. Bullying. Mentions of violence. Grammar and spelling mistakes that slipped my radar. A plot hole that I will figure out how to fill later. Proceed with caution, but I take full responsibility for how I portray dark subject matter and if it is not done tastefully or well. If I miss anything that could be triggering, it is your responsibility to tell me as soon as possible so I can tag it here. Otherwise, enjoy!

DICK-tionary: Smut starts at "Loki....Loki, please, I need you," and ends at “Hold me, just hold me now- please,” you pleaded."

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites@villainousshakespeare@holdmytesseract@eleniblue@twhxhck@lokisgoodgirl@lovelysizzlingbluebird@raqnarokr@holymultiplefandomsbatman@michelleleewise@wolfsmom1@cheekyscamp@mochie85@fandxmslxt69@skittslackoffilter@mischief2sarawr @asgards-princess-of-mischief

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Loki carried you to his bed.

No, it wasn’t just his bed anymore, you reminded yourself. It was your bed.

Laying you down on top of it, not caring for the stains of dirt and blood on your nightgown, he hovered gently over you. He pressed his lips to yours. His body pressing on top of you. You cupped his face and kept him close. Already your hips touching. You pulled in for another kiss. You wrapped your arms around him.

No more fire. No more blood. You needed tenderness. Intimacy. Wanting to forget your name, forget everything except him. To not feel the hilt of a blade. Instead, you felt his hand bunching up your skirt, exploring your leg again as if it was the first time he saw your care skin.

Reaching out your hand onto his, you led it up your body. Your skirt was left as you led him to touch you. You stopped the path on one of your breasts. You could hear the breath in him tighten as he felt it, bunching it up to see how the bodice of your gown was lowering. Wanting to show him more.

“Loki…please…please, I need you…” you begged.

He paused and released his hand.

“Shhh,” he hushed you.

One of his long fingers traced your cheek, going down from your neck to the collar of your nightgown. A tiny gasp came out of you as he dragged it down.

“No need to remind me, my dear. The way you react when I touch you- I know you need me…”

. You shivered as that one long finger went between your breastbone. His eyes greedily searching for your nipples, perked beneath the whiteness.

“My poor little wife, all alone out there without me…”

He lowered his finger’s trail to your stomach. He then went to beneath your skirt, feeling your leg again.

“How badly did she miss me, I wonder?”

Going up, just barely before your entrance. You felt your hips buck to him. A smile of deviousness graced your husband’s lips. You were getting wet between your legs, you felt your breath hitch and part of you tremble. Then he removed it.

“What a pitiful little gown you have on. Now that you’ll be in here every night, I’ll have you wearing ones of silk that cover even less. And only for me. Yet this…”

He undid the bodice of your nightgown and pulled it down over your shoulders, revealing your breasts.

“You may as well be naked in this! I may as well…”

He tugged it down and you helped him. Flicking it off to the floor. With a simple flick, your nightgown vanished and you were naked.

“Well, well- what do we have here?” he teased.

This time his hand caught your bare breast and squeezed it, a thumb over the nipple. You let out a moan.

“Tell me, my pet- did you miss me?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed out.

“Did you get wet at the thought of me? Of our little trysts?”

“I…I did…”

He went to your ear, barely kissing it as he whispered.

“Did you touch yourself then?” he whispered.

“Yes…”

He went to your hand, entwining his fingers with yours.

“I would do it…alone…in my room…it would be night…I’d be lonely, I couldn’t sleep…and I would think of you….I’d think of the cabin. When you deflowered me. Then when you took me on the table. Or our wedding night..and I…I…I needed you and…and I remembered where you would touch me, so I…”

He took your wrist gently and moved it to your sex.

“Show me how…how would you touch yourself at night, alone in your bed…” he whispered.

With a breath, you slid one finger in, rubbing it against your swollen clit. You began to strum it at a steady rhythm, your hips moving to it. A moan escaped you. He watched greedily, smiling wide.

Your breath hitched. You felt something rise. You made the strumming faster, opening your legs wider.

“L-Loki- I’d-I’d think of you…think of you and…”

He grabbed your wrist and pinned it above you.

“Wait- wait,” he ordered.

The lungs in your air nearly halted. You were frustrated- so close to release. And here he was, as clothed as you were naked.

“There’s a certain sight you’ve been missing, my dear…and your poor little fingers could never quite recreate what we have here…let me fix both…”

With a tilt of his head, his clothes vanished as well. You took in his strong abdominals, the little dark hairs on his chest, his wide pectorals for his slim frame. His cock- large and so hard it touched his stomach.

Loki leaned closer. He pinned you down onto the bed. You felt his erection near you, grazing your skin, your body. He grabbed your legs and hoisted them up.

“I want you loud…your parents will know who gives their good little girl pleasure every night…I want you loud…I want every person in this castle to hear, and when you cum it’s my name you’ll be crying out- they’ll know who you married to…and no man in that muddy town and no man in that castle can lay hands on what is mine, hm? Because none can make her cum like I can…”

He stopped your hand, raising it back up. He teased your entrance and you felt yourself shiver.

“Loki…Loki please…just…just take me, fuck me- fuck me into this bed…”

He lowered himself. You eagerly pulled yourself and kissed his neck. That was where he was weak. He let out a groan as you did. Your hips met his. Your entrance grazed him.

“Please….just love me…fuck me…” you begged in whispers between kisses.

He hovered right where he would be inside you.

“Wait…” he rasped. You were shaking, desperate for him.

“Tell me you’re mine…and I’ll give you what you want…”

Part of you froze beneath him.

“Say it!” he ordered sharply.

“I-I-I’m yours!” you whispered.

He smiled.

“Good….good little wife…”

With one thrust he was inside you. Deep, a right angle, hitting past your clit. You moaned out.

“Yes-yes like that- Norns-I’ve missed this-I’ve missed you-Filling you-Feeling you around me, trying to have all of me- and doing it-” he groaned out.

He held up your legs and then slammed his hips in. You let out a cry. His pace increased.

“You-you wanted-wanted to be fucked?! Here-” he said.

With a gasp, he got fast. He was harsher than when he took your maidenhead in the cabin on a winter’s night. He began to pound into you. Your breasts bouncing.

“Oh! Oh god-god-fuck-fuck yes-” You cried out.

“Yes, I’m your god- and-and you want to cum, don’t you?” he panted as he pounded into you. “God, you beneath, begging for me-I’m-I’m not gonig to last either-I-”

One hand lowered to your clit, edging you on. The spinning rose. The bed was already hitting the wall.

“Yes-I’m yours- Loki-Loki I’m-I’m going to-to-”

The pleasure burst. A moany, desperate “F-fuck!” flew out of you.

A sound came from Loki as he too reached his climax and groaned in gradual spurts. As if it grew out of him. His hot seed shooting inside you.

He was panting, his mouth open. His blue eyes opened to look down at you and a smile was on him, despite himself.

“Hold me, just hold me now- please,” you pleaded.

Loki released how he held himself and gently lowered on top of you. Not for lust, but for tenderness. He held onto you and nuzzled into your skin. Hugging him back, you rubbed your fingers in circles against his back. The silence was filled with your souls returning to your body.

Catching your breath, you released a little of the embrace to look into his eyes.

“I love you,” you whispered.

He smiled. No ironic smirk, but a genuine, sweet smile. He leaned into your touch.

“I love you so much I cannot even say a thing right now…” he replied.

“Then don’t,” you said.

Moving your arms back around his body, you pulled him close. Embracing each other in silence, feeling each other’s pulse, and the movement of breath in the other. And not saying one word but basking in the warmth of each other. If there was a Heaven or Valhalla, you knew you had tasted it now.

Minutes passed blissfully. Until you felt your stomach’s emptiness like a knife inside of you. Then you whispered a request into his ear. Loki nodded and conjured soft robes of silk for both of you.

He opened the door, gesturing for a servant in the hallway to approach him.

“Please bring my wife something to eat,” he asked.

The servant nodded and left. Soon they returned with a meal on a golden platter..

As Loki accepted it, you heard the Servant begin to speak boldly.

“Your parents say there is a crucial meeting in an hour. It’s concerning Grendel. They hope you and the Princess shall be present. It is in the usual room,” he reported.

“Very well. Tell them we shall be ready, then,” he said.

The Servant nodded. Then Loki closed the door and walked over to the bed as you sat on it. He set the platter on top of the covers. With the roasting chicken smelling fresh, as well as noticing butter on the vegetables and bread, you found yourself salivating.

As you tucked in, you didn’t want to think of how now realms were in danger. How Odin knew Loki’s secret and how he would only have shared glory as a hero. That you had to recover to have your powers returned.

You wanted to enjoy what pleasures you had in your life while you still had them before they could be taken away from you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The servants delivered a change of clothes. You put on a golden dress. Its silky material is soft as skin, making you run your hands on it to feel how it slides cleanly. Loki donned his traditional dark green and black leather. Looking in the mirror, you hardly recognized a face without petticoats.

“Do I look like an Asgardian?” you asked.

“You’re missing an eye patch like Father,” he teased.

An exhale of laughter shot from you and you smiled at him.

“Don’t fret- you are royalty now. They should be concerned about looking like you instead,” he assured you.

Loki offered his elbow and you placed an arm around his as you left the room to head to the meeting. Your footsteps echoed down columned hallways.

When you arrived, your husband knocked. Voices hushed from inside and a servant opened.

How different that little meeting looked with so many more faces inside.

There was the usual circle of the variants. Thomas talked to Jonathan as they looked over a book between them. Hal and Robert already seated. But now The royal family was added- Odin, Frigga, and Thor. Even Stella sat on a table with her sewing on her lap as Sif stood behind her, one hand on the hilt of the sheathed sword on her hip.

Odin cleared his throat.

“Now, then- let us commence,” The AllFather intoned.

He gestured and everyone standing sat into a chair. They creaked against the floor as people moved theirs. For a second, eyes looked uneasily on him. Beneath the table, your hand reached for Loki’s and he held it.

“It is no longer wise for your little club to face Grendel alone. Especially if he is a threat to our people and our realm, you will need our army, our warriors,” Odin began.

You hated that you agreed with every word he said.

“But the true reason I have called this is because it appears that one of you has made a crucial discovery…” Odin continued. A glimmer in his eye.

He swept an arm to Thomas, then curled his fingers to signal him to stand.

The Baronet smiled. He brought the book out from his lap and placed it on the table.

“My good friends, I have been doing a great deal of research for some time. I wish to assure you, that although my skills in a battle are not quite as refined as others, I wish to be useful in other matters.”

Thomas opened the book and turned the yellowed pages as he continued to speak.

“It took hours of sourcing every book in the archives for information on Grendel. His history, especially any possible weaknesses. Most of them needed to be translated from the ancient tongue word by word. But just this morning, I discovered this.”

He pointed at one specific page.

Everyone craned their neck to look. There was ancient Asgardian text in faded black ink, the lines curving and leaning to the left. You noticed small, detailed illustrations around it of a sword, a crown, a ring, and a mask.

Thomas looked at Jonathan. The Night Manager pulled out a scrap of paper from his pocket and handed it to Thomas, who read the translation aloud.

“Lo, to great praise of the gods,

Did Wise Grendel, go forth,

Long days did he spend,

WENT he forth across many,

Until the cauldron was found.

His death he shreds into it,

And forth did it birth its trove four.

The black ring, a bloodied sword,

An unkinged crown, and a mask of death.

For dreaded death did he ween away,

And death shadow dark did he peel off,

Placing them forth and upon,

Like weeds upon a ship,

The troves, which he then scatter.

Woe for the man,

Who in hell and hatred keeps his soul?

For the trove for that great foe.

THUS was Grendel reared immortal,

Reborn, that is, made freshly new.”

Silence followed. Then Thomas continued.

“In layman’s terms, there are four items called Troves that emerged out of the cauldron when Grendel was granted his immortality from it. A ring, a sword, a mask, and a crown. I confess I had to visit Jotunheim for our Prophet friend again and make him an offering. And it is rather convenient he is fond of a good roast chicken!”

The Prophet- how had it been so long since you had seen him? Since he told you Loki was your True Love? You glanced at your husband and smiled at him and he back. Then you turned to Thomas again.

“He confirmed what I suspected. He said the troves were scattered throughout time and in two countries in Midgard, mostly England. Oddest of all…They are located in our timelines.”

Thomas gestured to himself and then to each variant.

America in mine, A small village in Jonathans, Eastcheap in Hal’s, and, Robert….well, you can guess where the one in yours had been placed.”

Robert turned pale.

Loki placed an elbow on the table and cocked an eyebrow.

“How incredibly thoughtful of him to make it easy on us! It’s so coincidental, we may as well have our names written in that book!”

Jonathan folded his arms.

“If he had access to a prophet of his own, it could be another trap for us,” he said.

“But what options do we have?” Robert asked.

“If it’s a trap, I’ll take Grendel and slaughter him myself!” Thor boasted, pumping his fist in the air.

“It’s easier said than done,” Frigga advised him, placing a hand on his arm to get him to stop.

“So, we must go to each of these places in those times. We must retrieve and destroy these items. And then, we have a key to defeating Grendel,” you recalled.

Thomas nodded his head.

“Is there a city where the ring was found in? You didn’t list one,” Jonathan asked.

“Oh, forgive me, I’m not familiar with the city the ring is in,” Thomas explained.

“What is its name?” Frigga asked.

“It’s a city called Buffalo in the year of 1901. The Prophet said it could be found among the upper class of the city. So I believe that is where we must go- and we all must behave. We all know royalty is one thing, high society is another.” Thomas advised.

Frigga nodded her head.

“If it is the least familiar, then finding the troves in the others shall be easier. You must go there first. And we must find a way to alert the army should there be trouble,” she advised.

“Why, good fellows, let us use that little bracelet! Should it not work when the army of our King can be brought forth? Especially through the gifts of our gracious queen?” Hal asked.

Frigga smiled.

“Yes, if those watches can send the signal, I can summon a portal for the army to go through. We can’t just send all of them over there. Grendel would get suspicious,” she added.

Stella leaned forward, her needlework placed on her lap. She then spoke for the first time since the meeting began.

“I think I’d like to go,” she replied shyly.

“It could be dangerous,” Sif warned.

“Ah, but American Society is dangerous in itself. And not all of you know how to behave among them. Miss Harris, I agree- you would be a natural among them,” Thomas said.

Stella gave Thomas a small smile. Jonathan turned stiff seeing the exchange, a quiet ferocity in his eyes toward the Baronet.

“Stella knows her way around people. How to talk to them and befriend them. She couldn’t be impolite if you begged her to be. And Aldwinter loved her for that,” you recalled.

“I could help in some ways. Search for it, talk to others to distract them, have them trust us,” Stella suggested.

All of you looked at each other. Thor was drumming his fingernails on the table.’’

“But if there should be a battle!” the god cried.

“Not all battles are with swords, brother,” Loki replied.

“Of course that would help. Sif can guard her. We could use Stella. Any bit of help we can get.” Robert advised. His hands reached to his shirt pocket for a cigarette and finding none, rested on the table.

“And…I would like another thing, please…” Stella continued.

The eyes were on her. Your friend then relaxed, though eyes were on her. Her voice was brighter with her growing confidence.

“I….I’m tired of always being taken, being hurt. I don’t want it to happen anymore. Could I…could I learn to fight just a little, please? Just enough to protect myself. I don’t wish for any glory on the battlefield, I don’t want to hurt anyone, I just…I want to feel safe. Please,” she requested.

Loki smiled.

“Well then, you are quite welcome,” Loki began.

Sif turned to her.

“I’ll show you. I know how a woman can fight off a man. You’ll have lessons before you go- where to strike where it hurts. And you better pay attention,” she offered.

“She is worth every sore muscle!” you assured your friend.

Stella’s pink lips curved into a smile.

“Thank you, all of you,” she said.

Odin crossed his arms.

“Well, one sorceress in Asgard and another-” his eye went to you. “Sent off to Midgard. With the Princess’s gifts and your proper training, I have a little hope in me.”

You raised your hand to speak.

“Your highness-AllFather-I, I was tricked into eating Kunniger. The poison drained me of my gifts. I’ll need the tea from the Brunhilde flowers in Jotunheim. And enough to drink for at least two days,” you insisted.

Thor perked up.

“Oh! Brunhilde flowers then? Why, sister, then we must fetch them for you! And you shall be back to your magical glory in no time! Why, I should get them myself!” he replied eagerly, beating his fist on the table. It seemed that the table and everyone jumped in response.

Odin nodded his head.

“Then, it is settled. We will have two days- during which I expect everyone who is able to train vigorously. Then, you set forth in Midgard starting with the kingdom known as Buffalo. You all know what you must do- find the troves. Destroy them. Consider this a command from your king.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

While unleashing Thor among the upper crust of New York was like unleashing a bull into a china shop, he was useful in other ways.

Thor ran to Jotunheim like a dog released in a field. He grabbed as many Brunhilde flowers as he could and ran back, the tiny purple blooms bunched in his large fist. He brought you forth his prize at your feet.

For two days, you drank the tea as you watched Sif train Stella. And how odd that this time you were the one watching and Stella was the one training! And Stella in a light brown exercise dress of your time.Different than her typical blue. dodging Sif’s punches was a sight to see.

Sif led Stella to one dummy and handed her a dagger. She pointed at its neck.

“Strike there and he’ll be weakened.”

She moved her finger to the heart.

“Strike there and he’ll be dead.”

Stella gripped the handle of the dagger with both hands.”

“I don’t want to kill anyone,” she responded.

“Lady Harris, there are men worth killing. Men who will kill you first. Men who’ll do worse if alive- stab it!” she ordered.

Stella hurried forth and shakily plunged the dagger through the neck. Like pricking a needle into a sewing cushion.

“No! With force, girl!” Sif barked.

On the second afternoon, you could summon bits of flame. By that evening, you could hear the gossip of the kitchen maids (which Loki adored hearing you recount for entertainment). On the third day, you could move the items on your vanity around easily. You went to the training grounds and fetched a sword a mile away without moving a muscle. Targets of your own were set aflame easily.

Now it was time, and you could no longer delay. One minute wasted was one more advance Grendel would make behind your backs.

Everyone gathered in the meeting hall. Loki conjured clothes for everyone, for the ring was in Buffalo in the year 1901. The men had their waistcoats and cravats. Loki in his typical look. A black waistcoat with a green tie, with a black overcoat, a golden watch with its chain around his stomach, and a bowler hat. Thomas donned himself in black. He brought his top hat and placed it on his head. The men all had waistcoats in colors they favored. grey for Robert, a dark blue for Jonathan, and red for Hal.

The ladies had to have small gloves and dresses as well. Stella’s was sky blue and Sif was in black (though she complained the skirts were tight beneath her breath). Your dress was deep green along with your husband’s waistcoat.

But what amazed you were the puffed sleeves on the dresses. So within two decades, every lady would have them?! How astounding! You kept eyeing them on your shoulders with curiosity- you may as well attach hydrangea bushes to your person!

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, are we all ready? Not quaking in our little boots?” Loki asked.

There was no time to reply. Not that there was time for hesitation.

Loki conjured a golden portal and everyone stepped through. Bright colors swirled around you, hurting your eyes so much you had to close them.

Then, as you opened, you saw you were in Buffalo.

You were amidst the markets of the area, as carts moved about. You craned your neck to see tall white buildings. But the day was sunny with the crisp coolness of morning in the air. You could hear a distant train whistle and the chatter of people, happy for a new day and a fresh start. The city was twenty times larger than your village. The crowds were so thick, that you reached for your husband’s hand to not get lost. He held your own back. And indeed, everyone was dressed similarly to your group, right down to women with puffy sleeves.

All of you walked forward. Sticking close together as people hurried about. You stopped around one building, your feet staying on dry dirt roads far from any possible mud.

“Well, now, I have one little question. The one plaguing all of our minds right now. I may as well be the one to say it- how are we going to find one measly little ring in all of this?” asked Loki, gesturing his arms out to the city.

Jonathan put a hand out to him.

“Be patient,” he assured. “We’ll find a way.”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow.

“Are all of you forgetting that I can sense things?” you replied. “Let me do a quick scan,” you offered.

The group held their breath. You closed your eyes and had your gifts reach out.

At first, it was overwhelming. Every smell, sound, and sight attacked you at once. Your shoulders tensed and you winced, but you had that word in your head like a mantra.

“Ring, ring- the cauldron’s ring…where is the cauldron’s ring?”

Taking a deep breath, you let each sensation pass you by. You let the words be your anchor.

Something nudged at you. As soft as a child asking for a glass of water at night.

The ring…there was someone…someone connected to the ring…it was…was…in a building, a few blocks away.

You opened your eyes, a smile growing on your face.

“Someone has it. They’re in an office building a few streets down,” you reported.

Loki took your hand, leaning to you with a look of triumph.

“My wife, a sorceress and ingenious,” he praised.

All of you hurried forth. You held your skirts over possible mud puddles, glad they’d cover your shoes. Your senses still out like a compass. Finally, a tall, bland-looking building loomed over your party and your senses quivered intensely within you.

“There! It’s there!” you confirmed with a point of your gloved hand.

Hurrying Inside, all of you paused. There were numerous rooms and a grand, wooden staircase. People walked to and fro in and out of doors. Ladies adjusted their hats in mirrors and you could smell cigar smoke.

“I can tell there is a hint here. There’s someone… but it’s…it’s hard to say….” you recalled. You were fresh from the poison, and maybe your senses were slightly dulled. You tried to reach out and could sense a presence, but you couldn’t tell what.

“Then rest your gifts, my dear,” Loki advised.

With a deep exhale, you released it, coming back to your neutral self.

“It will do. We have to start somewhere- we can search the building. Ask people, if desperate. Check for a ring.” Jonathan agreed.

Everyone had a scrap of paper in their pockets. An Asgardian artists made sketches from the illustration of this ring. A silver band with a black jewel in the center. You noticed Robert get it out to see it one more time before folding it back in.

“May as well start somewhere, sally forth, my friends,” Hal began, nodding his head.

“I’ll be back to you in an hour,” Loki said. He took your hand and kissed it as a promise.

The men began to scatter like children playing hide and seek. You saw Robert crudely looking at everyone’s hands and comparing the paper. They went across and vanished into doors all over the ground floor of the building.

You, Stella, and Sif looked at each other.

“Well, there they go,” Sif quipped.

“But who are we to sit about as they do the work? We can check the next floor up,” you asked.

The three of you lifted your skirts and walked upstairs.

As you climbed the steps, voices were chatting on the second floor. Emerging onto it, you all saw the source right in your path.

There was a small group of women with high chins and flowers in their hats. Society ladies. Their smiles were small and their eyes cold as they looked at one woman standing in front of them. As if not included. Not enough. Not one enough.

Their victim in question had blonde hair and a little tan coat and dress and hat. You noticed she had a manuscript in her hand that she hugged with both arms close to her chest like a shield.

One woman in front, who appeared to be the oldest among them, tilted her head and spoke with syrupy venom.

“Oh, we’re having a ball soon, by the way. Not that it should concern you, Edith. With those ink-stained hands, I doubt any gentleman would wish to dance with you. But isn’t that what you wanted, our own Jane Austen?” she said with a smile.

The ladies next to her snickered among themselves.

The young woman- Edith- turned pale and you found her posture tight.

Perhaps it was your unbridled emotions. Perhaps it was the confidence you gained from being turned from lady to warrior and princess and surviving Grendel. Perhaps it was the rage leftover from that marshy town where you made fire burst.

But you could not let them torment this lady- who seemed so small, so timid, so alone.

She wouldn’t be alone now.

Your feet approached them, crashing into their circle.

“And what makes you think you have the right to speak to her like that?” you asked.

Stella hurried forth and went to Edith.

“Why, is it true? Are you a writer?” she asked.

Edith blinked in surprise.

“Why, uh, yes, I am,” she replied meekly.

Stella made sure she was close. Diverting her attention, not causing any harm. The defense to your offense.

“Oh, how exciting! I must wonder at that- how hard you must work for your craft! How fascinating! I am Miss Stella Harris-forgive the intrusion- and you are-”

“Edith Cushing,” she confirmed.

You took a step closer to them.

“What are their names?” you asked Edith.

“Mrs. McMichael, her daughter Eunice, and their friends,” Edith introduced.

You looked down into the oldest woman’s eyes and she rose to yours without a hint of fear.

“Mrs. McMichael, I do not know what Miss Cushing has done to you- to any of you to deserve this. She is harming no one. She has an ambition and is set forth on it- that is a noble thing. And it is none of your business if she becomes a spinster! Haven’t you considered how hurt she must be when you say things to her?” you spat back.

Mrs. McMichael cocked her eyebrow.

“I must be blunt. Edith is unnatural, as one might say. She must know her place. She always has been. With a mind like hers, of course, no one will want her. We knew it from the beginning. We are simply educating her. She must know her place- how else can a pig know she is a pig?”

You had had enough.

“And going about bullying other people to make your own miserable life feel any better is a place you’re satisfied to be in?” you asked.

You got close, holding yourself restrained. Your hands itching to slap her, which you kept folded. But you looked directly into her eyes and spoke before you could be interrupted.

“Then I must be blunt, too- You wish to find a pig, Mrs. McMichael? Look in the mirror,” you replied.

There were gasps among the ladies. Even a “mother!” whispered from Eunice.

Before any of them could interject, you turned to join Stella and Edith and began to walk away. Sif only took a step closer.

“Don’t push it. And stay away from the girl- and us,” She warned gravely.

There were gasps. You turned around, hurrying your steps. Your momentum of triumph and anger pushing your little party of four forward. Edith only looked around with as much astonishment as the abandoned snobs. Three new faces looking at her. A lightness on her features for her surprise defense.

“Where are you going?” Sif asked.

“I am headed to the library- it’s up here. I’m meeting Mr. Ogilvie in an hour,” she pointed.

“Let us escort you,” you offered.

Edith grinned and you noticed how warm it was, how beautiful. With her blonde hair and sweet features, she was a pretty lady. Her shoulders dipped and her eyes glanced down at the manuscript in her hands as if it was her infant. She looked back up, beaming.

“I cannot thank all of you enough! Please- what is your name?”

Matching her grin, you reached out a hand in an introduction.

“I am Mrs. Laufeyson,” you introduced. It was the last name you and Loki agreed to have when traveling in Midgard.

“Miss Edith Cushing, and?” she turned to look at the dark-haired woman in dark clothes.

“Lady Sif-”

“Er, Miss Sif,” you corrected.

“What brings you here?” Edith asked.

“Buisness with my husband. Miss Harris and Miss Sif are my companions. Why do you need to meet this gentleman in the library?” you asked.

As you walked closer, you passed a window where sunlight draped down. Warming all of you for a brief minute. Glancing back, you saw the clique of society ladies titled their heads to watch and then went down the stairs with a huff.

‘He’s going to look at my manuscript and consider publishing it!” Edith boasted.

“Oh, how exciting!” Stella replied.

“! You must have us read it too!” you agreed. Even Sif raised an eyebrow.

Edith guided you all to the door with the library.

“Oh- after the meeting, we’ll enjoy some coffee- my treat! Really! It’s the least I can do- and there’s a cafe next door!” she offered.

Coffee, not tea. Now you knew you truly were in America.

“Splendid- we will wait outside right for you,” Stella promised.

“My husband wishes to meet me in an hour. Do you not mind him?”

“Oh, not at all. I’d like to get in early- there are a few revisions I need to make before he reads it,” Edith said, looking down at the manuscript again.

“There’s no need for shame. Do whatever you need to do!” Stella replied with a smile.

Sif did not smile. Though she was quiet, observant of everything gonig on, but her eyes were soft.

“We’ll wait right here!” you assured.

Edith gave you another smile.

Something in the back of your mind was itching. A bell was ringing loud. You had rested your senses but here they suddenly grabbed you by full force. You stood still, your heart picking up against your ribs as you felt them overwhelm you.

But they didn’t go to the chatter or footsteps or the sunlight shining through.

You felt Edith….her hair feeling pinned to her face, her sweat of excitement beneath her nice dress, her determination to not appear like a frump yet also present of an intellect worthy of respect, equal to a man even…

She didn’t wear gloves. Her fingers were bare, but there was the mark of a tight ring she wore yesterday around her second finger on her right.

She was trying on jewelry that morning. And considered one ring she had. She had put it on. Then decided against it and discarded it away.

A silver ring. A silver ring with a black jewel.

Before you said a word, she slipped through the door and closed it shut. All of you sat on some chairs outside the hall. Your stomach had dropped and you were shaking.

Sif crossed her arms in a huff.

“I don’t see how any of this will get us any closer to the trove!” she complained.

You turned to her, feeling your blood turn cold.

“No, Sif…” you began.

“Why, YN! What’s the matter? There’s a look on your face- something is troubling you, what is it?” Stella asked.

You gestured for them to lean closer, your voice soft.

‘We haven’t actually dallied…we might as well have found the ring…” you replied.

“What do you mean?” asked Sif.

“Edith has it.”

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witchersoldier · 1 year ago

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To Whatever End

jj maybank x routledge!reader

SUMMARY: JJ loves you. But instead of just saying it, he reads your favorite books.

WARNINGS: (+16) kinda blasphemy but not really, reader reads sjm, guys forcing themselves on reader, drinking, rushed writing, not proof read (i just never do it) and that's all I guess. let me know if I missed something.

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

AUTHORS NOTE: this is my first jj fic, hope that's okay and not all that ooc. i used sarah j maas and her books bc they're just my favorite, if you don't like it just scroll down. english is not my mother tongue.

You can’t remember when you developed a passion for reading, it just happened. Now everywhere you go you carry a book with you, even if there’s absolutely no chance you’ll get to read it. Now, as for JJ, he absolutely remembers when he started to read books.

It was on a Friday last summer; everyone was gathered at the Chateau. John B., Pope and JJ were drinking at the porch while you, Kie and Sarah were down by the dock doing God knows what. When the sound of your laughter reached JJ’s ears he couldn’t help but gravitate towards you, pure admiration and curiosity guiding him. “Hey ladies. Just wanted to check if you still got everything you need down here? You know, drinks and snacks and- what’s that in your hand?” he asked, pointing to the huge book you held open, some phrases highlighted in a pastel red color. “I’m not surprised you don’t know what a book is.” Kiara bickered at the blonde, who scoffed and feigned offense, “I meant is this some kind of bible or some shit like that? It’s just I didn’t picture you as the religious type.” He offered the three girls an innocent smile. You’re one to always have a comeback at the tip of your tongue, but how could you say anything when JJ Maybank was looking down at you with such a pretty smile on his adorable face? “It’s not a bible, it’s fae-” Sarah brought you out of the trance as quickly as JJ put you in it. Was she really about to drop the ‘fae porn’ bomb on him like that? “It’s some shit like that, yeah” you smiled innocently at him, hoping he would just drop the subject. He squinted his eyes in an attempt to read the tittle of the book, but all he got was Sarah J. something and indistinguishable yellow letters. “We’re actually out of beer, will you bring us some?” Kiara asked a devilish smirk on her lips. JJ long forgot that’s the excuse he used to being there with you and not chatting with the guys. “I’m not your waitress, go get it yourself.” When he realized he blew his cover, there was no turning back. Sarah and Kie were already teasing him. “Well, then something else must have brought you here, right?”, “I think it was someone else, Kie.” Sarah nudged your shoulder, you pretended to be so deep in your book to notice the conversation. “More beers coming right up.” The blonde boy barely finished his sentence before sprinting back to where the guys sat.

He didn’t go back with your drinks, instead he sent John B., your brother.

•••

Later that night he unlocked his phone, googling the mysterious “Sarah J” he managed to read from your book earlier. And that’s how it started.

He read the A Court of Thorns and Roses book series. And read it quite fast, for someone who never held a book before. He would never admit it out loud, but he liked it. At first he was just curious about why you got all dodgy when he asked about the book-now he understood why-, but when he got through with the first one, he liked it. Liked to the point where he found himself sneaking into your room when nobody was home, just to see what else you had in your shelf. His eyes landed on the familiar Sarah J. Maas name, and he found a whole new book series. Throne of Glass. The series was huge. He grabbed the “Heir of Fire” one and stared flipping through the pages. Lots of highlighted texts in a color that match the cover, tabs neatly sticking out and some of your thoughts written on the pages. You were so passionate about this, he found it so endearing. JJ would give it a try. For you. And a little bit for him, too.

JJ was dropping hints your way, practically begging for you to catch up on what he’s been doing, but you never seemed to notice. Not when he said “you could rattle the stars, if only you dared” when you were worried about not being enough to get the job you wanted. Or even when he started calling you fireheart –because you reminded him of Aelin. Little did he now that your heart skipped a beat at the nickname.

The time he’s visibly caught your attention while quoting a book, the moment you knew what he was doing, was at a kegger.

You were dancing with Kie trying to enjoy the night, but you couldn’t stop looking at JJ, hoping that maybe this would be the day that he acted on you for real, not just the friendly flirting you were used to. Perhaps you should make the first move, after all he said you could rattle the stars, and you believed him dearly, so maybe you had a chance to rattle his heart. The only obstacle was the beauty he was talking to, looking too smiley for your liking. A drink. That’s what you needed. Then you could try and pour your heart out to him.

You were by the keg getting some more beer when you heard your name being called. Topper and Kelce. A blessing they were at least missing Rafe this time. The three of them always tried to have their way with you, but failing every time because your brother was always there to fight them away. Not tonight. Tonight he was with Sarah, and you were on your own.

Pretending not to hear them, you began walking to the opposite direction they were coming. “Hey Y/N, where are you going? The night is still young.” Exclaimed Topper, grabbing your wrist to stop you from going any further. Kelce came up behind you, his hand on your back pushing you to walk with him now. “Rafe’s moving the party back to his place, we would love it if you could join.” The way Kelce said that to you made you shiver in disgust and fear, Topper let go of your wrist and walked by your side, opposite to where his friend was. Your brain was running wild inside your head, trying to come up with a plan to get out of this situation. They weren’t holding you tight, so if you could just turn around between them fast enough and run back into the crowd, you’d be safe.

You kept walking with them for a few more seconds before making a run for it. And you managed to escape them, only to run into a hard chest. At first you thought it was Rafe, but then you heard his strong voice reverberating in his chest, words that had you gasping for air. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” JJ looked into your eyes and you knew he was doing it to make sure you weren’t hurt; he would always search for answers in your eyes. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder protectively and in this moment you felt so safe, like nothing would ever get to you, he would not allow it. “Thank you for finding her for me.” He said softly, it was meant more for you to hear than for Kelce and Topper, who were standing there frustrated.

Before they could say anything or start a fight, you and JJ ran back to into the crowd. You were laughing now, as if the bad situation you were in just a few seconds ago never really happened. “Alright, Rhysand. Is there something you would like to tell me?”.

And JJ told you how he started reading after that day by the dock. You didn’t hide your surprise and didn’t hide how much joy he brought you with just a simple gesture.

Something changed since that day. You and JJ grew closer and closer. You’ve always been close to him, since he was your brother’s best friend, but still you felt like your relationship with him leveled up. And all your friends could see it too. So why can’t any of you make that final move? You felt stuck between the friend zone and a relationship. There was always those lingering touches, hugs that lasted too long, nights you two spent alone talking about your favorite character and couples, but you never talked about your feelings.

That changed the moment he decided to make the most reckless thing in his life.

•••

You and the other pogues -plus Topper, who you barely acknowledged the whole night-, just stole the cross from that train. You were running from the cops in Topper truck when JJ turned around on his bike to create a distraction. You felt your heart go with him as soon as the police car turned to chase him. “Turn the car around” you screamed to no one in particular. There was arguing going on around you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to make out what they were saying, until Topper suddenly turned around and begin racing towards JJ, towards you heart. You remained calm on the outside, but inside you were panicking, you felt like your whole body was shaking. There were so many voices screaming for you to keep focused, and then there was a loud crash, the car stopped. The whole world seemed to stop around you as you looked around to see JJ’s totaled bike, concrete blocks around it and the guy you fell in love with nowhere to be seen.

You jumped out and ran to the bike, desperately looking around. “Where’s JJ?” you pleaded with tears in your eyes. “Where is he?” pacing around, calling for him so lost in your own fear that you didn’t hear groans and footsteps until you were spun around by someone. By him. He looked like he fell off a cliff. He kind of did. JJ’s body was hurting all over, but what hurt most was seeing you crying looking so lost. “Fireheart, why do you cry?” He didn’t mean to quote one of the most heartbreaking scenes of a book in a moment like this, it just came to him naturally. After all, you are his fireheart and he can’t stand to see you cry. His words hit you straight in the heart, you couldn’t speak. So you just moved on automatic, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him like your life depended on it. JJ didn’t waste time and kissed you right back, bringing you closer by wrapping his sore arms around your waist. The kiss was the best of the both worlds. Sweet and caring, but filled with desire and a salty taste, coming from your tears still cascading down your cheeks. Breaking apart the kiss was the last thing you wanted right now, but you had to. “Don’t you ever do that again, Maybank. I thought I lost you before I even got the chance to have you” You tried to sound serious and mad, but you couldn’t, happiness filling your bones and sipping out in the form of smiles and soft touches on his hair, now all dusty.

“Don’t worry, I’d never leave you. I’m with you. To whatever end.” He said with that cheeky grin you adored. “I love you, J.” you gave him a quick kiss. “And I love you,” he seemed like he was about to say something else, but you shut him up with a snarky comment. “I swear, if you’re about to say ‘Thorns and all’ I’ll be the one throwing you off the next bridge”.

#jj maybank x reader #outer banks #jj x reader #jj maybank #rudy pankow #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #bookish #throne of glass #jj maybank x reader angst #jj maybank x reader fluff

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rosesnink · 7 months ago

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Red Threads of Fate (That Bind Us Together), Arc I- Black Thorne, White Rose (Pt. 1)

Author's Notes

Je suis back!! After months of not touching this series due to rl craziness, I'm back with COP stuff babey!! This arc will be an interesting one, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. That being said, read the warnings and bon appetit!

English isn't my first language, so please forgive any typos/grammar mistakes

Some parts of the fic will look like they're highlighted. This is an editing errors due to my Word doc crashing many times, losing excerpts because my computer crashed. I know it's annoying, but please try to ignore it and enjoy the read

If you want to be tagged in my COP writing, let me know!

If you want to read more of my ILITW, TRR & D&D stuff, check out my masterlist!!

Summary: Nerea has been in Drakovia for a while, yet she feels very lonely. Meeting a certain Thorne will be eventful... to say the least

Word Count: 2.9k

Category: Romance, coming of age

Pairing: Vasili Thorne x F!OC, Sebastyan Thorne x F!OC (eventually) Marguerite Thorne x F!OC (Nerea Rose) (eventually), mentions of F!Trystan Thorne x F!MC (Neera Rose)

Rating: T

TW: There is a suggestive scene at the end, as well as mentions of discriminations against Romani people, reader's discretion is advised

Book: Crimes of Passion

Two months, six days, a hundred and two minutes and seven hundred minutes.

That’s how long Nerea Rose had been in Drakovia, and not one friend she had made. Sure, there were groups and people she had things in common, but she didn’t seem to have her crowd.

If one didn’t count Juliana Georgescu, but everybody got along fine with the countess. What a life she must lead, Nerea thought. Nevertheless, it seemed that power and wealth had a price, for her mothers had found her a suitor. The Crown Princess, no less. Absorbed in her own thoughts, she bumped into someone, dumping coffee and books all over the place. A small curse in Drakovian was spit, and Nerea did her best to apologize in an accentuated Drakovian “My apologies, I did not see you at all! Please, let me help you—,” She froze in place when she caught sight of the brown skin, dark eyes and glasses “Y-Your Royal Highness! Do forgive me—,”

A thread of apologies began between them both “It’s alright,” he answered in perfect English “I was quite absorbed myself. I did not hurt you, did I?”

“I could ask you that myself! Good heavens, your jacket is ruined! Here, let me…” He put his hand on hers and smiled reassuringly.

“I wanted to get rid of it eventually. I should’ve seen you—,”

As she collected her last book, when she saw the face of the poor man she trampled, recognition and shame came upon her “Oh my, I’m so sorry, Prince Vasili, I should’ve known—,”

He chuckled “Do not fret, I should’ve seen where I was going as well. I suppose we were both distracted.”

She shook her head “No, I should’ve seen where I was going, and now my latte is all over your surely expensive coat!”

He helped her up “Nothing a good rub won’t fix. Please, allow me to walk you to class and buy you a new latte. My treat.” He smiled, and my, what a beautiful smile that was.

“I can’t ask you that—,”

“I’m offering. Besides, I’m afraid my espresso is all over your beautiful dress too. My lady mother would be mortified if I maimed such a beauty. You are…? A beauty like yourself must have a name.” He extended his hand.

“Nerea. Nerea Rose.”

His grip was firm, yet gentle and warm, welcoming even. His eyes swept her before they too widened in recognition “Ah, I’ve heard about you! The American genius who has been travelling throughout Europe’s best universities. Your thesis on the advantages and abuses of AI was formidable. Truly a work of art. My siblings got tired of my gushing about your nuances and the way you expressed it. Not even professionals ten years ahead of you could’ve explained it as well and as richly as you.”

She blushed deeply and bit her lip “I’m glad someone appreciated it. I’m afraid my father didn’t understand much ‘technological mumbo jumbo’ and my sister couldn’t even finish it because the language was too complex.”

He smiled “Shame. It’s a true work of art. Do tell me, what brings you to Drakovia?”

“Well, since I’ve dipped my toes in technology and martial arts, I was thinking of getting a masters on Classical Languages: Latin, Greek, Ancient Egyptian, the works.”

Vasili looked at her, delighted “I am a humanist myself. Not many scientific minds appreciate the arts and humanities. Science may give us answers and make us advance as humanity, but it is art that nurtures the soul.”

Nerea smiled fondly “That’s what my mother used to say.”

Vasili frowned “’Used’?”

Nerea fidgeted with her fingers “She disappeared. Police assumed since she was a Romani—despite her ID clearly stating she was Andalusian—she just escaped with a lover, which she would never do.”

Vasili made a face “To hear the injustice in America is one thing, but that is too far.”

“Not to mention blatantly racist. But it was long before I could even have a conscience, so there isn’t much to do save do her proud, wherever she is.”

“You already have.”

She looked at Vasili, touched by his words, but before she could say something, the professor called “Ah, Miss Rose! Do come in, we have been waiting for you.”

“Your Highness—,”

“Please, just Vasili.”

“Very well, ‘just’ Vasili. I’ll see you around.”

During the small recess, as she walked around the campus, enjoying the small sandwich she made and the unusual sunny weather in the cold Drakkos, she spotted a little boy with gorgeous green eyes towards her. She smiled at him “Hello, sweetie! Are you lost?”

She noticed he held a bonbon, and made a gesture to give it to her. She chuckled “That’s sweet, darling, but I can’t. It’s yours.”

The boy insisted, his eyes making that face that made her melt. She sighed, defeated “All right, all right. I’ll take it. May I give you a thank you huggie?”

Wordlessly, he hugged her and she smiled, and a minute later, he took off to his bewildered mother. She gave her a smile. Just because this wasn’t the first time that a child smiled at her or even went as far to go to her didn’t mean it was strange. A good strange, but strange nevertheless.

“Nerea!” Juliana called.

She turned around and strid to the countess, who seemed to hold court with a few of her classmates. Many of them observed her curiously “What was all of that about?”

Nerea shrugged “I don’t know. It’s not the first time, but it’s still… odd.”

While Vasili did not have many friends, the ones he did were genuine and quite interesting. It was nice, hanging out with people who were as smart or nearly smart as her, not feeling for once like she once set the room quiet with a scientific joke.

As she observed her new group, her eyes stopped on Juliana, and as she talked and interacted, something in her body woke. For a moment, she lost her breath and one voice in her head told her that something terrible would happen to her. Then, it was gone.

When she opened her eyes, Vasili had steadied her and looked at her concerned “Are you alright, Nerea?”

“I… It’s nothing. Silly stuff of mine.”

“It didn’t seem like nothing.” He insisted.

“I just… I got a gut feeling that said that something terrible would happen to Juli. Stupid, right?” She chuckled, brushing it off.

They all looked at one another, obviously creeped out. She excused herself, going to the bathroom. After taking a few deep breaths, she washed her face, and that’s when she observed that Juliana had followed her.

She turned around, and observed that the countess observed her closely “How often do you get these gut feelings, Nerea?”

“Not very often. Only when a tragedy is bound to strike.”

Instead of looking at her like a madwoman, she leaned close, intrigued “Such as?”

“Before my mother disappeared or my Uncle Jimmy died, I got the same gut feeling. I suppose I also know when someone’s trouble.”

She nodded “And you got a feeling that I may be in trouble?”

She shrugged, “I suppose. I know it sounds ominous, but it’s yet to fail me.”

She placed a hand on her shoulder “I will keep it in mind. Thank you, Nerea. You’re a good girl.”

As they came back, they had begun a debate about what prompted the child’s behavior. “…That was amazing! Children are a great judge of character. Has it always happened?”

“Since I turned sixteen, yes. I suppose I’ve always had a wide maternal side and connected well with children. Many stared at me when I’m out, for some reason.”

Vasili added to her surprise “That is a scientific proof that you are beautiful. I’m afraid I’m not children’s favorite prince.” He shrugged, “Trystan and Bas are.”

One of their friends clapped the prince’s shoulder, remarking that he was the group’s favorite by default. Nerea shyly said “Just because children don’t tend to look at you doesn’t mean that you aren’t handsome. It’s… what, one fact among many? I’ve seen gorgeous people who were awful to children.”

Vasili looked at her with interest before smiling “You have a point. You’ll fit well amongst us, Nerea.”

Christmas finally came around the corner, and Nerea had packed everything when she decided to look outside the window… to find it all covered in snow, even some cars! She turned on the news as the weather guy kept talking about how it’d be snowing like this throughout most of the winter, making it impossible to get out of the country. Her phone ringed, and of course, her flight had cancelled due to said weather. Sighing, she sat down and put her head in her palms, letting out a grunt of frustration.

Just then, Vasili called her. He rarely called, preferring text over call. She picked up, intrigued “Hello?”

“Nerea! I suppose you’re on the plane back to New York?”

“Nope. My flight got cancelled due to the weather, and I have nothing but yoghurt and ramen on the fridge. Why do you ask?”

He cleared his throat “Well, I was on the way home when the snow trapped my car, and your house is just above it. Perhaps I could… crash in there? Until they clear out the road, that is.”

She flushed. For months now, she had developed a complicated crush with Vasili, and the idea made her flustered “O-Of course! I’ll open the door for you. It’s—,”

“Portal 26, second floor, door 3B. I remember, Nerea.”

She smiled “Good. See you then. Hope you like cheap ramen.”

She hung up, looking at herself in the mirror, fixing her hair and spraying the special ‘Amor Amor’ perfume by Cacharel and putting on some lip oil before going to the kitchen, pretending to be preparing dinner.

The door closed behind her, and a snow-covered Vasili stepped into her view, his glasses foggy and covered in specks of snow, as well as his coat and boots. She beamed for a minute before giving him her usual friendly smile “Please, take off your shoes and coat! The heater is right there,” she pointed “and the guest room is next by mine. It’s not a palace, but it’s comfy. Can you tell me if there’s warm bedsheets there?”

Vasili obeyed the host, leaving the damp shoes by the door and hanging the coat and craned his head to the small but cozy guest room. He called out “All clear! Thank you, Nerea. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“You’re my friend. I’m happy to help. Please, sit.”

It was then when she took off her eyes from his face and noticed the large bag. She raised her eyebrows “What is that?”

“Ah, well, Marguerite had asked for Thai takeout, but I suppose that is no longer an option…”

She smiled “I love Thai. Here, let me plate it.”

“May I help?”

“Sure! Cutlery is in there.”

They both plated the Thai food and went to her desk, which was a gateway to the kitchen, and chatted animatedly about what they had been looking forward these holidays. Soon, they exchanged holiday-themed childhood stories “…Poor Nina. Swallowing snow sounds unhygienic.”

Nerea laughed “Curiosity killed the cat indeed. Despite my warnings, she didn’t listen, and we had to hospitalize her. Ever since, she listened to me more often. Well, as often as an eleven-year-old could.

They chuckled “Your sister sounds like quite the character. You must miss her.”

A pang of sadness washed over her “Very much. I’m bummed I can’t see her now. It’s… my first Christmas outside the US.”

Compassion could be read all over Vasili’s face “I can’t imagine how hard that must be. Is there any way I may be able to make it amenable while I’m here?”

She shrugged “It’ll be weird, to not cook an entire feast for the family. We always spent time with my father, sister and the Ginovesis. I’d make my special dish of huevos rotos, followed by migas and my stellar homemade turrón. I do have the ingredients here, but not an audience.”

Vasili gave her an amused look “What am I, Nerea, chopped liver? I’d be happy to be your audience.”

She shook her head “I can’t ask you that.”

“You’re not. I’m offering.”

She smiled widely “All right. But you’re helping, mister! Number one rule of the Rose Christmas; you want to eat; you have to earn it!”

He teasingly made a military salute “Aye aye, Captain!”

For two hours, they cooked, an intimate synchrony between them that neither could explain as the food was made, a certain unaddressed intimacy between stolen glances, the occasional hand brush, and how each looked at the other’s body. Especially the lips.

At last, the food was made, and they dug in, and Vasili seemed to hold back a moan of delight when he tried the huevos rotos. “Mm. The richness of the egg, the meat and the softness of the egg yolk is simply divine, and the spices really give it a kick. You truly are a talent at everything you do.”

She blushed “Thank you. I was nervous that it wouldn’t be to your tastes…”

He chuckled “I may be a royal, but I am capable of appreciating the simple things in life. And this is too delicious to ignore because the ‘commoners’ eat it as well.”

Nerea smirked “It has been a while since we’ve considered royalty some sort of demigods.”

“Thankfully so.”

They clinked their glasses, Riojan wine sparkling red “To family.”

“And those close to your heart.”

Smiling wide, they drank and kept talking and exchanging tales “You’re telling me that Patryk dared Kaspar to put on the prime minister’s underwear and streak across the building in it? No offence, but gross.”

“Not as gross as mudpies. That poor guy.”

“Hey! In my defense, he cheated on me!”

Vasili looked at her intensely “A crime indeed. Such a shame that beauties like yourself don’t get appreciated. If you were mine—,” His eyes shoot wide, and he cleared his throat “Apologies. It seems like the wine made me overstep.”

Nerea must’ve been affected by the wine, for she surprised herself when she blurted out “If I were yours, what would you do?”

He took her hands in his, an intense look on his face making her gasp “I’d worship you day and night. I’d give you the world. Every other woman would cease to exist.”

“Vasili, that is—,”

The strong wind slamming open the window interrupted the moment. Bolting up, the both rushed towards the window, where both forced it closed and panted, the effort being visible, as well as the tension of the moment.

“Whew! I need another glass after that.”

“I’ve had enough alcohol. I could use the turrón, though.”

She let out a breath “Coming right up.”

The morning after, Nerea had overslept due to the many glasses she ended up drinking. She remembers Vasili taking her to her bed, taking off her make-up and pulling the covers so she wouldn’t be cold.

She woke up and, remembering she had a guest, quickly brushed her hair with her fingers and checked her breath. Smelled like wine, of course. Taking a mentos from her drawer, she looked for something cute yet discreet. Ignoring her headache, she lifted her head and tried to have a pleasant smile on her face.

Coming out of her bedroom, the sight before her gave her heart flutters: Vasili had his shirt half-open, his hair was messy, and he was making breakfast. It smelled delicious. He seemed to notice her presence and smiled widely “Nerea! Please, do sit. I’ve made the liberty to make, ah… what do you call it? Pankays?”

Nerea chuckled “Pancakes, and it smells divine.”

He gave her a wry smile “I’ve decided to give it a Drakovian twist. It’s not as good as yours, but I believe it is how it’s done.”

He gave her the plate, and their hands brushed again. He cleared his throat “Look, about last night, I didn’t want to overstep, but… I like you, Nerea. Very much. You draw my eye like no other, and of course, you don’t have to return my feelings, but—,”

“I do return them,” she interrupted.

His gaze lifted, what it seemed like hope “Truly?”

Armoring herself with valor, she struts towards him and gave him a small peck. For a moment, he was surprised, and next thing she knew, he was kissing her passionately, a throaty moan escaping him. Next, her hands were on his hair and shirt, completely forgetting about breakfast. She chuckled “I probably reek of alcohol.”

“I rather like the taste of cherries and wine. A very sophisticated mix,”

He lifted her up with surprising strength, and she chuckled as he kissed her neck, gently dropping her to her bed. He looked at her like he was a hungry man and she was his last meal on earth. Taking off his shirt, he climbed towards her and whispered “Do you want this?”

She nodded frantically “Yes,” her voice was hoarse with desire.

He smiled devilishly “It is a good thing we haven’t eaten yet. What am I about to do is not fit for a full stomach.”

Their lips locked again, and as the sun came up, only them and their rampant tension seemed to exist for a few hours.

As in that day, Nerea didn’t feel so alone in Drakovia.

#playchoices fanfiction #crimes of passion #crimes of passion fanfiction #red threads of fate (that bind us together)#oc: nerea rose #vasili thorne #suggestive themes #cfwc fics of the week

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goth-iqqa · 2 years ago

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BLAME THE ROSES

Prologue— Death To The Green Queen

18+ MDI

Life can only be paid with death. After the demise of Princess Alysanne, a cursed couple brings forth a new life across the Narrow Sea, unbeknownst to the war approaching.

Daemon × Fem!reader, Aegon II × reader

Warnings: angst, cheating, smut, neglect, violence, death/gore. mentions of suicide. kidnapping. dub con, non con, (Targ)incest, pregnancy, miscarriage.

AFTER IT ALL HAPPENED, Alysanne Targaryen declared an apology to the ashes of the fallen soldiers. On both sides, the black roots and the green stems of the bloodied garden her once home turned. There was nothing left, the lords had whispered, nothing but war in the wake of her husband’s name. Thorns of gore that would pierce into cadavers and shells of empty lives and unnamed graves.

“Prince Aegon The Younger must be crowned.”

It was not a tragedy when King Aegon was found, deathly still, and sweet Arbor red on his lips. His skin was strangely yellow, swelling and decaying under the delicate touch of his beloved wife. Alysanne, the Saddened Queen, cried and called for The Stranger, pleading a moment for a woman and a dying lover.

There had been quietness, maesters often said to their pupils. The room was made up of only a pitiful queen, a grasping king, and the claws of a growing shadow tempting the soul from its twisted body. At exactly midnight, when the Dire Wolves in Winterfell howled and the giant cats of striped colors roared, and the grounds of the castle shook, it was confirmed King Aegon II had made touch with death and what lurked beneath the veil.

By morning the candles had blazed to mere specs of wax, yet Queen Alysanne remained unburnt. When the sun peeked through the windows and the empty body of the late King began to blister, she remained. Hand in hand, she cried, mourned like the deaths before of all her line, innocent and guilty alike. Seven nights and seven risings did she stay, the books and medical servant knew the dating was far from precise, Alysanne rose from her bruised knees, and along she took the last touch of the usurper king.

While servants whispered of the things that happened during the secret decay of the king, it was only true that bare parts could be used for a proper burial. The Queen had not truly cried for his death, nor had she turned to black magic to keep her lover alive and hidden in her chambers, or the constant presence of a certain yellow tint of the Manmo Island princess. It was foolery. In truth, as Maesters came to know, after the beheading of the Grand Maester, King Aegon’s body decomposed and exploded in a series of fluids and flesh, finally fusing into the mattress they had burned, all while his wife watched.

A death, unpeaceful and macabre, worthy of the man Aegon II Targaryen was at the end.

When the news of the king’s passing spread, ships of high houses and low-borns of the city all stormed the gates of King’s Landing, bending the knee and hailing their new King. Alysanne, a widow, was not to be seen for another seven nights, her chambers remained empty and untouched, and her dragon no longer roared and shook the sky with his wings. She was a walking corpse, hiding in the shadows, expecting her punishment when a raven from Winterfell arrived at her window.

“Do not ill yourself with sorrow. I was pardoned from death,”

The golden piece of a horse was moved across the checkerboard, just like it had in real life with dragons and ships, outside the room now meant to imprison one of the former queens. Alysanne, dressed in green, like the title had once again sowed and the green stone tethered to her finger with the voice of her husband’s last wishes, sat across Alicent Hightower, somber features of tiredness glinted across her eyes and her mouth continued to move. “I was not pardoned from punishment, however. I am to return to Manmo, and face the consequences of my past actions.”

“As Y/N Endo or Princess Alysanne?”

It was often that their relationship was mistaken. Had the first season come, cool and colorful with blooms in the garden King Viserys sent to be made for her, both widowed queens found themselves under the weak streams of light. Cordial and pacific as they played a humble game of chess, learned by the glued words of their fathers. When the unbearable heat came, and all the summer colors adorned the streets as they did in Dornish lands, they enjoyed a cool tea prepared by the shaky hands of servants, and they spoke, cruelly to each other, of their husbands and their poor jobs as wives to satisfy them.

When the leaves of the giant trees fell, and their sons trained with sand dummies, they did not speak to each other. Servants assumed they fought again, their screams and shouts shushed by the pit-and-patter of soothing rain. Only to be lulled away when the cold wind came and their dresses exploded with rows of skirts for the short-lived winter. They ate and laughed together, dressed in the same shade, for a day, when the lords of their husbands’ council met.

A black root and a green stem, united by the complicated world painted by the men who cared for nothing but titles and wealth.

“Will they…kill you?”

“I am sure of it.”

A white knight moved this time. “They cannot harm the aunt of the King—a queen, you were a queen. They cannot, they cannot do this, they cannot kill you. You must speak to Lord Cregan, you cannot leave.”

Alicent’s face had grown mournful through the years, witnessing death after death of the children she squeezed out of duty, caged in the castle like a simple servant of no name. But now, even after all the slaughter the color green brought, her eyes brimmed red and the whites glossed with tears for a girl she’d grown to like in her days of confinement. The only face that held a smile when she stepped forward, brushing servants off, and keeping the ailing widow company.

“We are cursed. The moment we were born,”

A black knight neared close to the white queen.

“We were granted suffering and despair. Arranged to be bred like cattle for a title that will not follow after death. I was happy, for a few moments at least. I was given a life that veiled the bad with the sweet scent of roses.”

Alicent smiled, for the first time. “Red roses have always been your favorite. Even when you hurt yourself with the thorns, you called them beautiful.”

“I have to thank you, Alicent. It was because of you—everything you have done under another’s tame—that I am here. All the bad things that happened, all the deaths a simple crown and a throne of swords have caused. Everything has led me to this point, my own punishment, in a way.”

When the black queen moved toward the cornered white king, Alicent shivered as she knew she lost. “Your punishment? Was betraying your husband not enough?”

“I loved the man you birthed, not the king he became. He made me bloom, even when I thought I’d died. When a smile never came, he made me laugh like no other. Even when he drank past his limits and crawled with apologies, and fell in love with princess Alysanne instead of Y/N, I kept my promise till his last breath.”

Alysanne removed the ring from her finger. The Green Jewel of the Sad Queen, maesters would come to name it, was given to the new mother as a present for the pair of healthy heirs. It was now soiled, tainted by the rusty smell of blood that soaked into the creases of her hands.

It was a reminder. Nobody but her and the dead uncle she once loved knew of the painful ropes that tightened around Y/N Endo’s neck, only to be shielded by the golden rows of pearls that decorated princess Alysanne's own. The voice of the woman she once knew, dancing in her head, trapped like a curse meant to claim the lives of the ones she loved. She would break the chains, once and for all.

“I’ve died nine times. Princess Alysanne died many years ago. Y/N Endo was killed by the people she loved. Now, my final death has come, at last.” She pushed the ring into the waiting hand of the eldest, “I am not allowed to see my daughter before my leave. She will come to see you, I’m sure of it. When she does, give it to her. She must know I will always love her. She must, Alicent.”

Alicent nodded with a silent promise.

After a checkmate, princess Alysanne exposed her left arm, yellow and swelling. Alicent gasped, she rose from her seat and jerked away from her dying stepdaughter.

“I won’t let any of them have my glory.”

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qqueenofhades · 1 year ago

Note

Hi there! It's been forever since I've sent you an ask (forever since I've even really been on Tumblr tbh), but your name came up as a must read author in a Captain Swan fic discussion. Very well deserved! So my question, though I know you've long moved past the OUAT fandom by now: If you were to recommend just one of your CS fics for someone to read, which would it be?

To be honest, the only CS fics of mine that I still revisit or reread for my own enjoyment, even many years after moving past the fandom, is the Swan and Crossbones crossover series (The Dark Horizon and The Rose and Thorn). I still find that the writing is good (when looking at projects ten years out of date, this is not a guarantee), the plot is compelling, and after all the work I did with OUAT, Black Sails, and original characters/plots to turn it into two long (uh, very long) sagas and a full retelling of Treasure Island, it's just a lot of fun. I did tons of extra historical research for it (even while working on a PhD), I still think most of it holds up, and it was generally just a project that I'm still very proud of. And I think you yourself enjoyed that series -- I remember your comments, and hope you're doing well!

#whimsicallyenchantedrose #ask #cs ff

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phlebaswrites · 6 months ago

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Hashirama & Madara

Summary:

A Romeo and Juliet parody.

(I had to do it.)

Rating: General Fandom: Naruto Relationship: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara Word Count: 581 (Complete)

Entry for @hashimada-week

Day 6 - July 26: Sun | Moon | Stars

Written for @kurakura0-0 and @dominaaurum who both inspired it.

Two clans, both alike in dignity (In Hi no Kuni, where we lay our scene), From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where shinobi blood makes shinobi hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life; Whose misadventured piteous overthrows Doth with their death further their clan's strife. The fearful passage of their death-marked love And the continuance of their family's rage, Which, despite their children's end, naught could remove, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; The which, if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

Read the rest on AO3.

#Hashimadaweek2024 #Day 6 | Prompt: Sun #Day 6 | Prompt: Moon #Day 6 | Prompt: Stars #Phlebas Writes #Naruto #fanfiction #Story: Hashirama & Madara #Series: Roses and Thorns (Name Yourself)#Series: HashiMada Week 2024 #Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara #Senju Hashirama #Uchiha Madara #Senju Tobirama #Uchiha Izuna #Senju Butsuma #okay to reblog

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storyofmychoices · 2 years ago

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Shadows and Deception: Parts III & IV

[Series Masterlist] [My Choices Masterlists]

Books: The Royal Romance (post-TRF), Crimes of Passion I, Desire & Decorum, Blades of Light and Shadow I Characters: Trystan Thorne (M, no race mentioned), Marguerite Thorne, Olivia Nevrakis, Queen Amalas, Maxwell Beaumont, Daniel, King Liam (no race mentioned), Tyril Starfury, Nia Ellarious, Prince Hamid Pairings: Olivia Nevrakis x Queen Amalas ; M!Trystan Thorne x (no gender given) MC (mentioned) ; King Liam x Riley (mentioned) Rating/Warnings: Teen, mentions of blood, stab wound, knives/daggers (no graphic descriptions) Word Count: Part III: ~900; Part IV: ~600 : total ~1,500

Summary: So many rumors, so many royal suspects, but where does the truth lie?

Catch up on Parts I and II here

III. From now on, it is our task to suspect each and every one amongst us. (Justice Wargrave)

Disbelief and unease swept through the ballroom as words of foul play circulated. Whispers swirled, sending ripples of suspicion among the guests. Accusatory glances were thrown all around, even toward some of the most prominent and unexpecting of guests.

Trystan Thorne, the once Heir Apparent of Drakovia, found himself caught in the web.

The sound of his name caught his ear as he listened to a particularly pompous party-goer: "I can't believe they let him in. You've read the stories, I'm sure. How he murdered his fiancée."

"Allegedly," he interrupted, his brow arching as he met the guest's gaze. "I was charged, yes. But as for the truth, that remains to be seen."

"I didn't know," the guest stammered realizing the Prince stood beside them. All color drained from their face.

"That's the thing, though, isn't it? You don't know. Therefore, I suggest you save your breaths for words you know to be true," Trystan warned. "Being accused of one crime does not give any reason to suspect me of another." He shook his head, walking away. He marveled at the lack of effort that was made before his name was thrown into the pool of suspects.

Marguerite Thorne, Trystan's half-sister and the youngest Princess of Drakovia (if one considered illegitimate children as such), also faced her own share of rumors.

A group of socialites huddled together, casting not-so-covert glances in her direction, snickering as they went.

One of them strode up to the Princess, waving her phone in her hand. "Princess Marguerite, any comment to these rumors that you orchestrated the murder of Countess Juliana to frame your brother? Jealous much?" She scoffed, a look of disdain filling her face. “Hoping to find yourself some new attention here?”

Marguerite's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and disbelief. "How absurd! To even indulge your delusions for the sake of my amusement would be an insult to my integrity." She chuckled as she sauntered away, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She refused to give them the satisfaction of turning back.

Queen Amalas became the subject of whispered suspicions. Some guests cast accusatory glances her way, questioning the depths to which she would go for knowledge and secrets, and what actions she might take to protect them. Her composed demeanor remained unwavering.

Amalas brushed up against the Duchess, her words a whisper in her ear. "Have you made any progress?"

"There are still many questions to be asked," Olivia replied, her fingers brushing against her Queen's. "Have you turned up anything of worth?"

Her brow rose briefly, a secret smile playing on her lips, "All in good time." Amalas pulled away, tucking her clutch safely under her arm.

"Maybe I should search you," Olivia teased, pulling her back. "I could certainly make it enjoyable... for the both of us."

"I trust you could. Another time, my love."

Olivia glided through the halls, continuing to conduct her investigation until a particularly ridiculous display caught her attention. ‘Who could dance at a time like this?’ She marched forward, ready to put an end to it when a whisper floating through the ballroom hooked her attention. She paused, listening to the murmured words.

Apparently, the Ottoman Prince was conducting an investigation himself. She listened as a guest confided that she had overheard an intense exchange between Lord Beaumont and the waiter earlier in the evening. She wasn't clear on the exact details, but what was clear was the tension between them. Between this and his odd behavior early, Olivia had a new suspect to question. ‘What had he gotten himself into now?'

Maxwell Beaumont, emboldened by his carefree attitude, danced to his own music, refusing to let the party become a lifeless bore. After all, someone had to keep the guests' spirits up.

Olivia approached him, her gaze sharp and penetrating. "Maxwell, do you care to explain yourself?"

"I'm not sure what you mean." He offered her little attention. His body moved in rhythm as he attempted to beatbox his favorite dance beats.

Olivia grumbled, "If you could contain yourself for even five minutes."

"I could, but then, who would carry this party on their shoulders!?" Maxwell winked and jumped atop the closest table. "Breakdance battle—15 minutes. You'll know where."

"You can't do that!" Olivia's words were lost as he dashed off into the crowd before she could ask about the rumors she had just overheard about him and Daniel's argument before the party. There was definitely something going on with him.

Nia Ellarious, the priestess of light who had once been possessed by the evil entity, the Dreadlord, faced her own share of suspicion. Tyril Starfury approached her gently, offering reassurance. "I understand your concerns, but it's customary for the person who discovers the body to be considered a probable suspect. We must remain vigilant and trust that the truth will prevail."

"What if there's more to it?" Nia worried. She had escaped the darkness that had taken over her, but the nightmares of its presence remained. "It can't happen again."

His grasp on his blade tightened as he scanned the crowd. "It won't. Tonight's events are entirely human-created."

Still, others whispered the name of another.

With her known predilection for daggers and her often cold and calculating demeanor, Duchess Olivia Nevrakis's name caught on the lips of some who dared cast a shadow toward her.

IV. Truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant. (C. Auguste Dupin)

Whispers slithered through the air, their words laden with suspicion and hidden agendas. As tension thickened like a dense fog looming over the proceedings, some of the distinguished guests took it upon themselves to investigate the crime, each motivated by their own agenda. The ballroom became a web of whispered conversations, covert glances, and hidden alliances.

Trystan's pulse thrummed with curiosity, the exhilaration of the mystery running high. He was determined to unravel this crime as he had others in New York. Memories of his own false accusation lingered, igniting a fire within him to clear his name. His fingers tapped a steady rhythm against his chin, his mind racing with thoughts of the mysterious silver key. Could it be the key to the truth, or was it merely a red herring calling him astray?

Olivia, fueled by an unwavering determination to shield her chosen family and to exact justice, wove through the crowd. Her sharp mind looked for connections between hushed conversations, hidden agendas, and the untimely death. The corner of her lips pulled up faintly at the promise of more to come.

Now if only she could find Maxwell... Pinning him down should have been the least of her problems; after all, it was Beaumont. He was the least stealthy person she knew. However, he seemed to have made it a game to elude her at every turn, a dangerous dance of cat and mouse developing. Olivia's frustration grew with each attempt to corner him. Foreshadowing a perilous end for the little mouse, or squid as it were, this shark was determined to catch him one way or another. Yet, as she pursued answers to her questions, she couldn't help but wonder if his unusual behavior was denial as he processed his grief.

Balancing duty and his loyalty to Nia, Tyril trod with caution. After Aerin Valleros, he wasn't about to trust another royal. The remnants of the Dreadlord's grip lingered in his memory, fueling his determination to protect Nia from any lurking shadows. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. He would be ready this time.

Amalas employed her cunning and manipulation to take advantage of the situation, using it to extract every fragment of information she could, regardless of its relation to the events of the evening. All knowledge was power. She maneuvered through the labyrinth of people as silent as a shadow, her movements graceful and elusive. She made her way to a small balcony above. Her perceptive gaze scanned the room, watching and waiting. Her pulse quickened, but she quickly regained her composure. Her focus took a moment longer as her gaze followed the alluring movements of her scarlet-haired Duchess.

Prince Hamid, torn between his formal obligations and his innate desire for justice, skillfully navigated the crowd. He listened to stories and deciphered what information he could learn. His charisma and charm proved invaluable in gaining the trust of potential witnesses. His calm persona reassured guests into fully opening up to him with any facts or theories they may have.

The King's Guard moved throughout the proceedings, questioning everyone who may have heard or seen something. They took particular interest in those who moved about in the shadows, investigating on their own, for perhaps one of them was sticking too close in order to cover his/her own tracks.

Regardless of the underlying reason for their inquiries, there was a puzzle to be solved, and no one was going to let the blame fall on them, especially the exiled Prince of Drakovia.

[Continue...]

Thanks for reading! I hope you are enjoying they mystery. There are definitely a lot of rumors and suspicious behaviors, but what do any of them mean?

Tomorrow, an unlikely(?) suspect emerges as the murder weapon is found! The conclusion will be posted Monday! Happy sleuthing!

Giveaway Information: complete details here

3 winners will be chose for minimalist portraits with @bayleedrawsx

Any one who comments on or reblogs with a comment with their theories, thoughts, ideas, ect. on any and all sections of the story will be entered in the giveaway. (1 entry per section)

Prompts: For @choicesbookclub COP ; @choicesmonthlychallenge Private Investigator Event

Special thanks: to JenBeaumontJones (IG) for beta reading

#playchoices #choices game #the royal romance #blades of light and shadow #crimes of passion #desire & decorum #choices fan fiction #tyril starfury #trystan thorne #marguerite thorne #nia ellarious #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis #queen amalas #prince hamid #lovealexhunt #choices book club #olivia nevrakis x queen amalas

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mirthlxss · 2 years ago

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Off to the races

Chapter 12: White bikini off with my red nail polish

“No use lookin’ for sympathy sweetheart, you did this to yourself.”

master list

price x oc, series.

a03: pricescigar, Off to the races is posted in full.

taglist: @deadbranch , @jxvipike, @smoggyfogbottom, @slimvevo-blog (who specially requested a tickle of piercing convo), comment or dm for a tag.

warnings: mention of alcohol.

a/n: “But he who dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose.”― Anne Bronte

Frenzied hands darted to and fro, half-slurred shouts slugged across the room as stumbling feet shuffled between bags. A hectic attempt at preempting the impromptu trip abroad had spiralled into the three drunken fools teetering about, blurred eyes blinking heavily as they shoved whatever items deemed plausible into whatever luggage possible. A mess, it was a mess.

Throughout the ordeal, she had learned her exposé’s name.

“Pavel.” Hurled through wined stained lips, explosive disgust emphasising the ‘P’ each time she spat it out. Chanted like some sort of malediction, the others joined, stomping around the room and cursing the man as they helped her pack.

“I mean, fuck him, right?” She swivelled on her back foot, nearly crashing into Johnny as she tried to face them both, shaky hands grasping onto his forearm in an effort to steady herself. The Scott wrapped a steadying arm around her shoulder, though he was no more stable, both swaying together, attempting to smooth out a dress between them.

“Sleazy little fuck.” He agreed with all her sentiments wholeheartedly. The second he clapped his eyes on those photos the man felt the distinctive garble of bile rushing up his oesophagus. It plagued him as much as Price and Kyle, perhaps for more selfish reasons, that night all he could think of was his sisters. What if it was their private photos thrown up on screen? What if his sister had been taken from her life, captive to a crime she’d staggered into?

“This one?” Kyle held up a pouch stuffed full of products, half-lidded gaze faltering as he leaned closer to the two, decidedly shoving it into one of the duffle bags before awaiting an answer. He soon latched onto Lily’s other side, arm wrapping atop Soap’s as he cuddled into the others, foreheads butting together with mild amusement.

“I want to say something, though, I don’t know if it’s allowed.” An electrified chuckle presses past his lips, and the two draw closer, cheek to cheek with Garrick as they urge him on.

“Not like that’s stopped you before.” Soap scoffs, biting grin only spurring the other on. He knows what Kyle’s gonna say, the question whirled around his mind at some point too, it was only natural.

“You gotta tell us now.” Lily nudges her forehead against Garrick’s cheek, humming softly as he laughed aloud, pushing her back in his drunken state. They all swayed as a collective, arms locked around each other as they drew closer by the second, urgently needing to know the secret that tempted to spill.

“The piercings.” Kyle exasperated, Johnny howled out laughing in response, Lily grinned from ear to ear. It felt like she’d never left university, like she was clinging to two housemates as they pawed over ‘going-out’ tops and drunkenly blazed through social barriers, bonding over embarrassment, wine and illicit piercings.

“Which ones?” She urged, barely able to keep herself from cackling. Kyle’s gaze flickered down to her breasts and Johnny nearly collapsed them all, veering violently as he threw his head back snorting out his amused delight.

“You know!”

Dawn crashed down upon her head so hard it felt like the pitiless blades of sunlight that lacerated her curtains were stabbing her through the atmosphere. Moving seemed a monumental task, so nauseated at the world she’d convinced herself that even gravity felt heavier as she wrenched upright. For a dreadful moment, everything spun, wispy grayscale sparkles smeared across her vision before her body caught up with her movement. Heavy slaps of queasiness prevented any real progress, stuck hunched over on her bed taking small, desperate little breaths.

Three, hard knocks chimed to the pounding of her headache. It took another round of knocking for her to realise it wasn’t just the war drum of her hangover marching all the alcohol out of her system. A dull, rasped attempt at calling out seemed to die before the door. Vocal cords scorched from a night of cheap wine and shouting.

The entrance swung open anyhow, his bearish gate filling up the space and assessing the damage, dutiful in the way he combed over her and the room in one long look. She’d expected him to come up with something smart and smug, rub in the fact that she probably looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. He remained quiet, eyes fixated on the neat pile of luggage by his feet.

“Going somewhere?” With a raised brow, Price stepped over the bags and focused back on Lilith, sucking in a short breath as he watched her try, and fail, to hide a small retch.

“I know you’re going to follow up on Pavel.” Lilith grumbled, hands slowly grasping at either side of her head as she let out a pained groan. “And that you’re taking me with you.”

“And so you’ve packed.” His weight shifts, contemplating the situation. Apart from the small pile of bags, everything seemed to be put in its rightful place, clean and tidy. Not a glass nor even a bottle in sight. If it wasn’t for the awful state she was in, he’d have a hard time deducing what happened.

“You’re a very good alarm clock.” Lilith barely manages a tiny laugh, small huffs forced through before she retreats into another drawn-out groan. Everything hurt. What made it worse was the fact that it was all self-inflicted.

“You weren’t at P.T., n’ wanted to check in is all.”

“Thought P.T. was optional.”

“It’s strongly recommended.” A moment passes and they both chuckle airily. She had come to find that most things with the Captain came ‘strongly recommended’ in other words, ‘you'd better bloody do it’.

Price remained hovering beside her bed, quietly listening to the general plight of existence that came with waking Lilith. She seemed softer, steeped in the sticky ache of her bad decisions, not fully firing on all cylinders. What puzzled him was the compliance, the packed bags and the lack of lip. Besieged by the forlorn shock of her subdued nature, disbelief mounted at her compliance. It became clear that they would not argue.

Struck now with the anticlimactic gape in his morning, a chunk of time was carved out of his calendar, devoted to clashing and corralling his captive. He’d anticipated an uphill battle, felt the goosebumps bite at his skin as he stood outside her door. This, her, ready and rough around the edges, was not planned for. Complexion pale, a sickly sheen to her skin, he knew it was just a bad hangover but the desire to cosset her riled within him so urgently it felt like he had taken the fight within himself, absorbing the anticipation and putting it to work against his self-restraint.

He had the whole morning free. What better than to cavort with his captive instead?

The grip tightened around the bottle he’d brought in with him, intending to use it as some sort of bribe or force her to sober up with it. A cruel, creaky squeal cried from the bed frame as he sat down beside Lilith, shaking his head at the delayed reaction she gave to the high-pitched sound.

“Ere’ get this down and we’ll try some painkillers.” He breaks the seal on the cap, offering her the gently fizzing electrolyte, sighing deeply as she grimaces at the smell. “C’mon Lilith, love, it can’t be that bad.”

“Kyle and Johnny, I’m gonna kill them if I ever recover.” Divisive mutters, uttering various curses under her breath as she pushed herself closer toward him, placing her hand atop his and letting the other guide the bottle back to her parted lips.

“Good girl.” He watches her intently, unconsciously swallowing with her. “Serves you bloody right for getting so drunk.” His grumble delved deeper into his chest. “Dumb and Dumber got their fair share of punishment this morning, nothin’ like a good long sprint to work off the booze ay’.”

Lilith pulled away and restrained a garbled cough, amused at the thought of Soap and Gaz dragging themselves around the base to the tune of Price’s shouting. The drink swooshed around her body and felt incredibly unsettled, borderline threatening, nausea fighting against her with every deep breath. Shaky hands raked through her hair as she pulled it atop her head messily, soon shuffling across the sheets to settle beside John, resting on his shoulder with a pitiful noise.

“No use lookin’ for sympathy sweetheart, you did this to yourself.” Despite his chiding, John shifted to wrap his arm around her, drawing her frame closer to himself.

“Feel sorry for me!” Lilith demanded half joking and half petulant, intention clear as she let her weight fall back, trying and failing to slump back into bed with his arm around her. He only remained upright for so long, as usual, finding it very hard to deny the woman what she asked for. How could he? After all that’s happened, How could he? When the thought of her invading his team, his space, slowly began to shift into something different. Was it an invasion if she was now welcome? Accommodated for? There was a place for her in their base, in their dynamic, in his schedule, in his mind.

And this morning? Now, by his side.

John allowed himself to recline back, laying beside her awkwardly at first. Unsettled as he looked straight ahead at the crumbling ceiling, counting the cracks he’d need to fix, adding them to the list of things to do. They had embraced before, it was fleeting and well missed but this was entirely different. Far more intimate. More so than felt natural, for the prolonged minute of quiet that fell between them, the Captain began to question what he was doing.

“Thank you, by the way, for all the things on the list.” Coy, voice barely above a whisper. She shifted on her side to look at him. “I thought you’d cut at least half of it.”

John adjusted himself, taking in the timid tones of her voice, surprised to see she almost looked guilty. The depths of his pupils widened, encroaching upon the blue, committing every bump and divot of her visage to memory. It felt imperative as they’d not been this quiet and this close before. The self-conscious cloy vanished with her proximity, enthralled by her presence once again. Though wicked, dishevelled and rough, she still seemed to have a certain allure.

“Was plannin’ on teasing you for that list.” He huffed. “Must’ve slipped my mind.” John took his opportunity, hedged his bets on the lull of her hangover and the unguarded disposition that came with it. He gently coaxed her closer, the firm hold around her shoulders now drawing her flush to his torso, relaxing even further as Lilith curled into him without protest. It was overindulgent, the comfort gained from feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, the weight of her head on his chest. He daren’t begin to console his ever-fretting mind, the gnaw of culpability and duty could not be reasoned with. The longer Lilith stayed, the less he could justify his actions, and the more outrageous his behaviour.

“So, where are we going then?” She sighed softly, eyes barely fighting off sleep as they blinked slowly, soon resorting to just lightly closing them.

“Netherlands, tonight, flying commercial.” John began to slowly draw circles against the exposed skin of her arm, slightly bemused at how swiftly she seemed to slip into drifting off.

“Hm, taking Stockholm syndrome to a new level huh.” Lilith hummed with a sleepy smile.

“Stockholm, Lilith, is in Sweden.”

“Fuck.”

AUTHORS NOTE: SO very sorry for slow ass replies, my excuse is that my job is draining my soul from me. Anyway! Enjoy a slower chapter before I actually sit down and get to writing more exciting onesss, who doesn't like edging yourself with slow-ass character-building anyhow? TOODLES LOVE YOU!

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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year ago

Text

Feels Like Sin

Summary: This isn't the life that you thought you would live, but Jax isn't going to let you go. You belong to him. ONLY him.

Pairings: Fae!Jax Teller X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, kidnapping, chasing, a form of drugging, dub con, dry humping, voyeurism, unprotected sex, mentions of overstimulation, spanking, creampie, humiliation, obsession, secrets and lies, self mutilation (Jax), 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.2K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You dig a small hole in the dank bag. You need air. Sunlight. And a way to process your fears of what was happening to you. Looking through the pathetic hole to see yourself moving in the wrong direction. Faeries of the Spring Court never ventured here.

Branches turn into gnarly thorns, and you squeak in fear. Kicking your leg on the back of the ogre that stuffed you in here. “Easy does it, you pipsqueak. The king will love you.”

“No!” You start to blubber. Where was your king? Steve would protect you. Or would he? Even he didn’t come into the Dark Court. He only saw the king when there was a meeting of sorts. So you were told. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Suck my cock then,” his laugh bellows out before he drops you and the bag on the forest floor. You peek your head out, gasping for fresh air, but it is too damp. Fog hangs over in the forest, making it impossible to see five feet in front of you.

“Well go on, tiny,” his chubby little hands start to reach into his pants, and you slam your hands over your eyes, shaking your head no. “What’s wrong? You telling me you never had the shiny king’s cock in your little holes?”

“No, Steve never asks us to do that. Steve is kind, he isn’t like you!”

“Oh, bullshit. You are the most frivolous of the courts. All you do is fuck,” of all the lies in Collingswood, you had never done anything of the sort.

“That’s summer,” you sniffle, still refusing to look at him. You could feel his warm breath too close to you, and you try to shuffle away from him, but his sweaty hand holds tightly to your foot. “Steve doesn’t…he wouldn’t,” his finger tries to push your hand off your eyes, but you keep them covered. “No! I don’t want to look at your disgusting penis!”

“You’d rather be eaten by the Dark King instead of sucking my cock? I can find another flower faerie. You are the prettiest ones in the glen. So delicate,” he flicks his fingers over your hair, and you want to sink into the earth.

“You smell so nice. Have the prettiest smiles. Won’t you show me your smile, tiny?”

“I have nothing to smile about. You’re going to shove your disgusting penis into me, and I don’t want it,” tears flow out your eyes and you try to remember your warm spot beside the creek. A perfect spot to dance in the wind while your king smiled at you. He wasn’t like the rest of them. Steve was good. He loved and adored his court.

“Your king isn’t as precious as you want him to be.”

“He’s not kidnapping faeries from other courts to be fed on, is he?”

“He just makes his queen watch as he fucks his flower faeries.”

“No he doesn’t,” you scream, yanking your arms off your eyes. The oaf of a fae was sitting down in front of you. Invading your personal space, but fully clothed. You hate him for the lies that he spews about your court, and your king, “Steve would never.”

“You know nothing about your king. All faeries run off sex.”

“Steve runs of pure kindness,” his laugh bellows through the glade, but then he surprises you, leaning forward to touch the petals of your dress with an odd tenderness. Making you confused with the quick change, “Stop that!”

“We don’t get flowers here, pipsqueak.”

“All these thorns, and no roses?” He shakes his head no. His eyes flick up towards you before quickly looking away. “What’s your name?”

“Lee. Now get in the bag. Jax is hungry.”

“Oh, god, he’s going to eat me.”

“Most women would love to be eaten by Jax and his magic tongue. But he doesn’t eat flesh. He eats emotions. Seeing how his latest meal was stolen from him, I need you to be afraid. Suck my cock or get back in the bag,” you thought you were making some progress with the troll, but no. He is still threatening you. “Go on, little bit. I got a big cock just for you.”

“Oh my god!” Your scream echoes through the thorns, and Lee smiles when a shift in the wind happens.

“Run,” he whispers, and you don’t hesitate to jump up, sprinting as far away from him as possible. Too caught up in your tears to realize you are running deeper into the maze of thorns. And he laughs. Cleaning up his bag before making his way to his post. Chuckling at how stupid flower faeries were without their king. Predictable in their simpleness.

Jax licks his lips, already savoring your fear. His ringed fingers burn with anticipation. You wouldn’t be scarred or tattooed, but being scared was the next best thing. Your panting breaths pulses in his veins, and his eyes dart in the direction you were running. Right to him.

He was a drug, and he knew it. They all feared him, and yet always ran right to him. He hoped you’d only be as delectable as Andy’s human. You couldn’t be. She was damaged. She was supposed to be for Jax. He could feel it. Could still taste it.

He fakes a pout when he hears you cry out in pain. Flower fae were too stupid to wear shoes in his realm. But then again, they were never asked. They were forced. Remained here once their sunshine was drained. Ashamed to go back to their king that would hold them, and share his light.

But they were forever corrupt. Filled with Jax’s darkness, and willing to do everything for their king. Would serve him in ways that would be thought of as sinful. But it was just pleasure. Flower fae were not meant to stay in darkness. They needed their king and sunshine to bloom.

You gasp as you see his shadow stand up. Seemingly so much larger than Steve. Your comfort and safe space. He was terrifying. “Don’t run. You need your foot looked at. Some of those thorns are poisonous,” you gulp, finally pulling out the giant thorn in your foot, and Jax takes a deep inhale at the scent that permeates the air.

“You do suck on people’s blood,” you whine. Having to sit on the floor of the forest, and hold your foot. It hurt worse pulling it out.

“It’s all lies they tell about me, sweetheart. Can I?” Jax squats down in front of you, reaching for your foot. What other choice did you have than to extend it to him. He looks at the hole from whence the thorn was before licking his thumb and pressing it to your foot.

Instant relief. That is until you see smoke billowing off you, and the pain. Scurrying out of his grasp, you look at the scorched upper part of your foot, “What did you do?” He holds up his hands, and you notice the rings on his fingers had created a scarred effect on his skin.

Indented in on him and singed on every finger, “Iron,” he answers softly. “Makes me stronger. Makes the legends of me more fearful. Helps me feel my own pain when all I can usually feel is others. Imagine pain being something you feed off. You forget your own self and what it actually feels like. This helps me remember me. And now it no longer works. But my ugly hands remind people of what a psycho I truly can be.”

“So you do want to eat me?”

“Not you, you tiny little thing. Your emotions. The dark ones that Steve won’t allow you to have. What type of flower are you?” You grunt at him. You are getting tired of everyone talking bad about your king. Steve wasn’t anything like they were saying. He just wasn’t. He was good.

“Aw, did I offend you? What silly name did Lee call you? I was going to call you by your flower, but I’ll take what he said.”

“Tiny and pipsqueak,” every word is short and enunciated. You hate him. Both of them. You want to go home and back into the sunlight. Have Steve pull you up into his lap where he holds onto you, letting you absorb his warmth.

“Keep hating me, Tiny. Your petals are pretty,” you are a pretty little thing. Smaller than the others were. Adorable. Your fear was matched just as equally as your loyalty to your court. There was a bite to you. “What kind of petals are they?”

“Rose,” you stub up, refusing to look at him. He was a monster. You heard all the stories. Steve warned you about Jax, and why you shouldn’t trust him.

“Do you prefer that name?”

“I’d prefer to go home.”

“In time, Tiny. I am hungry,” you put on a brave face, but your lip trembles. Delicious. You are almost as intoxicating as Andy’s human. His human. She belonged with Jax. Andy hated humans. Jax treasured them.

“I think you and I could help each other. One quick taste, and then, I have a job for you.”

“Will I get to go back home?”

“Depends on how good you do. Now crawl over into my lap, let me get a little taste. It won’t hurt. In fact, it’s almost orgasmic,” you furrow your brow as you look at him. “Oh, you haven’t sat on Steve’s lap, huh? Had him stuff you full with cock?” You had sat on his lap, but not to do something as disgusting as that. Steve was warmth. He was change and growth.

You shake your head as you start to crawl towards Jax. Perfection. “It’s the best drug you’ve ever had,” he whispers, reaching over to grab you up, and putting you on his lap. You wince at the feeling of his rings touching your exposed skin.

His nose tickles up your neck as he inhales your scent. Flattening out his tongue he licks up the column of your neck before you feel a prick on your sensitive skin, and then dreams. Like there are clouds floating around your body. High and in a world of your own. Whimpering at the feel.

Lee peeks at you and Jax. Selfishly wishing it was his lap that you were grinding on. Your eyes are so blown wide with pleasure you didn’t even know what you were doing. Jax did. He moans right along with you. He bet you tasted like heaven. If there was one.

Your petals rise up and show off your glimmering skin. You had marks etched on you. No wonder you smelled like that. He knew it when he threw the bag over your body. You are special. Beautiful. Perfect. Immaculate. Different than the other flower fae he had captured.

“Ahh,” Jax moans, pulling off your body. Letting you ride out your high as you rode his stomach. “You need a taste, Lee?” Lee could be jealous, but Jax was generous. Waiting until Lee sits down before he shuffles your body on him. Biting on his lip as you grind down on him.

“She’s a pretty little thing, huh?” Lee nods his head as his breathing picks up. You are perfect. “She’s tasty. Wonder what the honey between her thighs tastes like? Maybe one day I’ll get to indulge. I have something bigger planned for her. I need humans. I need their ink,” Lee’s hand nervously tries to keep your thigh covered. Jax shouldn’t know about it.

“She’s adorable. While the veil is still open, I want her to entice broken humans to me.”

“But, sire?”

“You can accompany her, just don’t be seen. You might scare them. Enjoy your ride, and put her in my bed when she passes out from her pleasure. Poor thing never felt an orgasm before. Too bad she won’t remember it. But she will crave me,” his dark laugh bellows out before retreating into the thorns. Jax was always up to something. Lee could only tolerate it.

But for now, he was going to rub his hands up and down your thighs. Let you ride out your high for as long as you need. Beautiful. Perfection. Sinful. You’ll fit right in. Letting yourself go into darkness as your petals shift over your skin. Getting sight of your perfect tits as your nipples start to poke out.

Cupping both your breasts, his thumb rubs over the hardened buds, and you moan. Overcome with this new feeling. His finger and thumb close over each nipple, and he squeezes. Adding more pressure when you start to whimper. You like it. Love it. The darkness is already spreading through you. Spring shouldn’t enjoy even a little bit of pain. They were innocent and vanilla.

He wants you tied to his bed begging for him. But for now he’s going to enjoy the vision of your tits bouncing in his face and wanting more. More pain. More Lee. More darkness. He’ll give it to you. He’ll give you everything that Jax refuses.

“You get back here!” Lee growls as you run through the forest of thorns. Knowing where to duck and jump at just the right time. His goal was to keep you away from the king, and he’s succeeded most of the time.

“Argh!” He screams out when he loses sight of you. “You’re not going to like what you see!” His voice yells up into the sky. Shaking his head, he starts to sludge towards Jax’s palace. You’d brought him a human, and your deepest desire is to see what he did with the humans. Lee’s job was to keep you away from those creatures as Jax fed. He failed. He would pay. He is not looking forward to Jax’s wrath.

Slinking through the hallways, you listen to Jax’s deep groans. The screams of the human makes your skin crawl the closer you get. He has to be torturing her. Eventually murder her. Your morbid curiosity gets the best of you as you skip a few of the tiles, knowing that they would alert Jax to your whereabouts.

His door is opened a bit, and you have to peer through it. Watching his scarred back where his wings used to be. The skin is raised and still raw. Rippling with every thrust of his hips. The human woman’s hands start to claw into his skin, but he slams her hands above her head, growling something in her ear.

You can’t look away. You’d never seen your new king in such a vulnerable state. Completely nude with the woman. Unable to tell if she’s in pain or if those were cries of pleasure. Leaning into the door, it creaks and Jax turns his head. His minty green eyes locking in on you. His mouth sets into a frown, before he smirks.

Moving off the woman he turns her to look at you. Placing her on her knees before his hips slam into her backside. She is blind and doesn’t even see you, but his cold eyes stare at nothing else but you. Gnarling his teeth as he slaps her rounded ass, and you go to turn. “Don’t you dare!” He growls.

“You wanted to see. Watch it,” he chuckles as you start to step backwards, but your back hits Lee’s chest instead.

“I told you that you wouldn’t like it,” his breath is warm on your neck as he whispers right into your ear. “She’s enjoying it.”

“Why is she screaming then?” You can’t look away. It is horrible the way he is angrily jabbing himself into her.

“Pleasure. Some people get off on pain,” Jax’s hand wraps around her hair, and he forces her to look up at you. Make you see the recoil in her breasts. Her eyes are dead. “He overstimulates them before he ever enters them. This is what we call fucking. She’s so blinded by the over indulgence of pleasure she doesn’t even know where she is. Won’t remember coming beyond the veil.”

“He looks like an animal. He does this to all my humans?”

Lee’s hand slides over your stomach, pressing you tight against him, “Your humans?”

“I brought them to him. I bring them to slaughter.”

“They won’t remember much. He devours their sadness, their pain, and then he pleasures them with pain. They need him just as much as he needs them,” he moans on your neck. Unable to contain himself. You had started to roll your body with Jax’s movements. It isn’t as harsh as his stabbing, but it was just what Lee needs. Letting your tight little ass circle on his swollen crotch.

“They’ll be a new human tomorrow. Just flashes of a memory of this moment,” Lee sees Jax’s eyes flick to your thigh, and he stares horrified at your bare leg. Your petals had rode up, and the veining of your mark could be seen. Quickly he tries to pull it back down, but Jax knows what he saw. Lee has been lying to him.

Slapping at her ass again, Jax’s motions begin to jerk before he stops all together. “You want to clean me off?” He grins, pulling out of her, and he turns her behind to you. “You see how gaping I made her? Go on, darling, push it out.”

“Jax!” Lee shouts from behind you as you spin around, and hug yourself to his chest. “Enough!” Jax lets the woman’s body fall to the bed and he stalks over to Lee poking him hard on the shoulder.

“You’re too damn soft on her.”

“And you are bonded to her, and still want to embarrass her.”

“You were supposed to be watching her. She wanted to see. Wanted to see what my cock is used for, and now she has. You did that bitch a favor, Pipsqueak. She was in the depths of despair when you brought her to me, and now she has a high better than any fucking drug. She’ll go back with the humans as new woman. She won’t be sticking a needle in her vein, or having sex for money. She’ll have aspirations. You did a good thing,” his voice starts to calm, and the anger no longer right at the edge, “Pip? C’mere, darling.”

“No,” you mumble against Lee’s chest, “You’re naked, and smell of her.”

“Darling, I just want to hold you. It’s what you really need.”

“I said no!” You dare to look over at him, and his brows furrow. “I don't need you!”

“The hell you don’t! You’ll always need me, Pip. And you!” His gnarly finger points at Lee, “You have failed me, yet again. You have one job, keep the Pipsqueak away from my sessions. And you’re a fucking liar.”

“I’ve not lied to you,” he only wasn’t honest. He knew Jax would become obsessed with the mark on your leg. It was hardly noticeable. Nothing to get excited over.

“Withholding information is a lie, and punishable by death!”

“No!” Screaming, you turn around holding your arms out in front of Lee, “Don’t you touch him! I will tell Andy!”

“Don’t you dare scream your idle threats at me. He gets punished.”

“No,” you no longer scream, and Jax tilts his head down to look at you. “Punish me instead. He didn’t do anything. I did this. I came to find you because I needed to know why I couldn’t watch. Lee didn’t do anything. Jax, please, he’s my only friend.”

Jax’s hand goes to your chin, and he lifts you up to fully look at him. You grit your teeth as his iron rings burn your skin. You had learned well, and the urge he has to praise you gets pushed down. Now wasn’t the time, “I can’t hurt you, Pip.”

“And I can’t let you hurt him. Punish me. Do what you want.”

“No,” Lee pulls you tighter to him, but you shake your head looking at Jax. Your new king. And you wouldn’t allow him to hurt your friend.

“Please, use me instead of Lee,” Jax loved it when you asked nicely. Something inside of him stirs every time that your soft voice pleads for him to do something for you.

“Show me your leg,” Lee told you never to let Jax see your thigh, but what choice did you have now. You slide a petal over to the side, and Jax gawks at the vine that was fairly small. He sinks to his knees, and presses his nose against your thigh, sniffing up the length of the vine before his tongue flattens on your skin, and you push him away from you.

“Your punishment is to be in my bed every night. And you…I’m not finished with you, you miserable excuse of a man.”

“He is no man,” you remind Jax. “And neither are you.”

“Get this cleaned up, Lee.”

“I won’t sleep in the bed where you’ve had other women. I don’t want them on my skin,” Jax lets out a low growl, but his eyes move to the raw skin on your jawline. You took the pain. You were becoming part of his court, and still not growing weaker like the other flower fae. But, they would have already been bouncing on his cock. So you did deserve different quarters.

“Fine. Care to join me for a bath, Pip?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself. Lee, get used to useless work, you coward.”

“Pip, come here, darling,” you look across the room into the bed where Jax sits, shaking your head. “You get your tiny little ass in here, I feel we need to talk.”

“You won’t hurt me?”

“Do you remember our bargain?” You shrug your shoulders, walking a bit more into the room. Faerie bargains can be a bit difficult, and you aren’t sure about your own with the king of sly words. “I can’t take from you as long as you bring me my humans. Have I ever taken from you, Pipsqueak?” Shaking your head no, Jax lifts his hand up to you, wanting you to take it on your own.

“I haven’t. We have both kept our end of the bargain.”

“But…I’m taking Lee’s punishment.”

He pulls you in between his thighs. His fingers no longer clad with iron rings, and his hands rub softly up and down your legs. Gone is the pain you always feel when he touches you. No longer a scent of burning flesh. A permanent indentation from his self caused pain of wearing iron. His thumb toys on the line of your mark, and you push him away. “Don’t fight me, Pip, you will lose.”

“Are you going to make me?”

“Make you what? Take my cock? No, darling. I have no desire to squeeze myself in your tiny little body. Why do you want to take on Lee’s punishment? He failed his job, and he was hiding your little secret from me.”

“It’s not a secret,” Jax raises his eyebrows as he stares down at you. “It’s not!”

“Where did you get them? You let someone mark your body, and didn’t tell me. You know how I love the taste of ink. Where did you get it?” His finger goes back to the edge of your mark, and as long as he doesn’t drift up him higher, you’ll allow this space.

“I was born with it.”

“That’s impossible. Only…Pip, who is your father?” You shrug your shoulders because you truly didn’t know who your father was. But you aren’t lying about the vines. “Let me taste it.”

“No,” his stomach rumbles with frustration. You always denied him at first. “That’s why I bring you humans. Lee said you shouldn’t know unless you asked. You never asked,” his hands on your thigh, roam up to your hips, settling on your waist before he lifts you up, and forces you on his lap. Straddling him, and your mark pokes out from beneath your dressing gown. It was getting darker. Bigger. More vibrant than before. The color was just as dark as his own.

“Do I scare you?”

“You can’t hurt me.”

“I can’t take from you. You can give to me though. There’s the difference, my tiny little Pipsqueak. You should know to make your intentions clear when making a bargain. I could make you scream and beg for me to take from you just to stop the pain. You’d do well in remembering that. Touch me. Go on, touch me. Run your dainty little hands up my chest. We’re bound together, darling, I own you. I can do whatever I want to with you, as long as I don’t take from you. Not even your life, but there are things much worse than death. Touch me!” He screams right at your face.

Your hands slide up his decorated chest. Using your fingers to trace the outlines of his own tattoos. Smiling when he starts to shudder, and then you slide down his back. Rubbing the pads of your fingers over his marred skin where his wings used to bed. “Enough!”

He pushes you onto the floor, and buries his face into his hands, “No one ever touches me there.”

“Why?”

“My cruel brother had them ripped off my back. Laughed as I crawled away from him. People want to act like I’m the monster, why don’t you ask Andy how many humans he has killed. I have never once killed a human. I leave them more human than they were before. I was made to be the villain, and stuffed into this desolate forest of thorns, but I make due with what I have. Stronger than he ever could be because I allow the pain to happen. Pain makes us more…human,” peering up into his minty green eyes, you lean your head to the side.

Jax didn’t fear, but he longed to be human. Wanted to feel the way a human did. “Humans love.”

“I have no love to give, Pip. It’s why I feed off their emotions; it's something real. Not this too long of a life that we are forced to live,” Jax was the second oldest faerie in the glen. Only his brother was older than him, and you wondered just how old he was. What he has seen in his life. What he has felt. Once upon a time Jax and Andy cohabited together.

“What do you do with them…”

“Would you want to feel it?” His grin turns devilish as his foot pushes your thighs apart. Staring at your core, “You’re curious,” heat radiates from you, and onto his foot. You were more than just curious. You are quaking with the need to feel it.

“It will hurt. You promised not to hurt me.”

“My word is as useless as dirt. But I assure you it’ll only hurt for a moment.”

“And then you throw me away just like your precious humans?” He runs his foot up through your center. Letting his warmth linger over your mound, and you tremble. You had never felt something quite like that before. Although it was familiar.

“I’d never throw you away, Pip. That’s a promise.”

“Your word is as useless as dirt.”

“This doesn’t feel good? Doesn’t it make you want and need my touch? Shake your head no at me, I can feel your pulse in between your legs. Just sit in my lap, and I’ll show you how good I can make you feel.”

“I have stipulations,” gulping, you look up at him. You did want to know what it felt like, but there is something you desire more. “I will, but I don’t want you inside me, and I want to know why Andy did that to you.”

“Not tonight, but I will tell you. In time. If you allow me to see all of you,” standing up, you knock off the shoulders of your dressing gown. Letting the thin material slide off your curves, and onto the floor. Bringing your arms up to cover your chest, but he shakes his head no, “I said all of you.”

Dropping your hands to the side, he lifts up his finger, twirling it around, asking you to do the same. Taking one step at a time, you turn around. Baring everything to him. Feeling his eyes trail up and down your body, you shudder. He was looking at you like his next meal, “My beautiful tiny Pipsqueak,” his? Your breathing speeds up as you turn back around to look at him.

“Now, let’s put you to bed, crawl back on my lap. I’ll give you the smallest taste of my sin,” your feet feel like lead as you put one in front of the other. Crawling onto his lap, and his thumb goes back to your vine. Sliding up and down it, while also dipping lower to your core. “I should have asked you to spread your legs. Maybe I could have seen where this leads to.”

“Is it me, my body, or the vines that I have no control over that you desire most?” Giving a bit of a smirk, Jax watches as the vines deepen, ridges sprout along it with every grind you do over his body. Your brain might not remember, but your body did. Craved him, and the friction.

“They’re changing,” he hums, finally looking up at you. “Does this mean your darkness is blooming? Or are you going to deny me again?” You sit silently, apart from your heavy breathing. Gripping onto his shoulders, you bare down even harder. Letting your body give into the temptation and pleasure as you pinch your eyes closed. Going outside of your mind for a moment.

Jax’s eyes flick over to the door, holding those blue eyes as he bends closer to your bouncing tits. Giving a smile before his mouth circles around your pebbled peak, and you mewl. Moving harder. Faster. Giving to him what he has wanted, while he watches the man conflicted.

Lee goes from glaring at Jax to watching your beautiful body writhe over him. The tent in his pants is painful, straining against his clothes. That should be him. You offered yourself up for Lee’s punishment, and yet, here he is still being punished. Always. Jax knew the hold that you had over Lee, and he tortured him with it.

“Let me enter inside of you, Pip!” He begs, moving his mouth to your other tit.

“Tell me about Andy,” his sucks turn into a bite, and you laugh. Leaning back, you rest your hands on his knees, letting him view your tattoo even closer. “Then look at what you will never have.”

He doesn’t even care about the tattoo, just your puffy cunt that was on his stomach. He growls out your name as you move to get up. “You have no power over me, Jax. We’re bonded, but you don’t own me. Lash at me, spank me, do whatever you need to in order to pay for Lee’s punishment. We’re done for the night.”

“I said in my bed!”

I was in your bed, and now I’m leaving to get some sleep. You can have all of me if you tell me about Andy,” Lee’s eyes flash bright blue before he steps back in the shadows. You didn’t need him right now. You were doing just fine on your own. “Let me take your pain.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Then suffer alone,” you whisper, grabbing up your gown before walking back to your own bed. Glutton for punishment. Jax would never get over it, and with that came his suffering. His downfall. His own living hell.

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @theinheriteddutchess @pandaxnienke

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thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos · 1 year ago

Text

Every Rose Has it's Thorn

-Part 1-

>Part 2

Universe: Teenage Mutant Teenage Turtles (Bayverse aged-up turtles)

Rating: NSFW, R for swearing mostly MINORS DNI

Raphael x OC (female character)

Tags: Trigger Warning- drugging, assault, violence, original character, slow burn romance

Hi! This is my first attempt at writing. I have been wanting to do an OC fic forever, and I was so completely inspired by @sultrysirens oc characters that I wanted to make my own (Seriously, go read their stuff it's amazing!). Anyways, the beginning is a bit dark and scary, but I'm so excited to continue the story. This series is centered around my original character, Rose.

Enjoy and let me know what you think!

-Rose had a shit day and heads to a local dive bar for a drink, only to soon realize her day is only going down from here.

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“Fuck, that’s good.”

Rose Soriano took a swig of the drink that the bartender had slid to her across the lacquered bar top, gifted from some guy a bit down the counter. She raised her glass in thanks and gave an awkward half smile, appreciative for the second round but hoping he wouldn’t take her acceptance as an excuse to wander over.

She was wrong.

As she nursed the blended scotch in her glass, the tall white dude sauntered over and sat down.

“Hey, my name’s Mark. What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all by yourself?” The blonde spoke with a cocky smile plastered on his lips, brown eyes a little hazed with drink and oozing confidence. He looked nice enough; handsome in a boring way, not bad to look at- but just like every other 25 year old white guy in New York. If she had been interested in dating at the moment, Rose may have given him a shot in another life. But unfortunately for him, she was in no mood for this brand of bullshit tonight.

She had a shit day and just needed some time alone with her thoughts.

“Hi, yeah uh, thanks for the drink but-” She waved a delicate hand in his direction as she spoke, but he cut her off before she could finish her thought.

“What’s your name? Are you from around here?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Look man, thanks for the drink and all- but I’m really not interested.” Turning back to her scotch she tried to ignore the uncomfortable silence between them, and the bubbling frustration resonating off the young man pestering her.

“What, we can’t just have a conversation? Who said that I was trying to pick you up or anything, maybe I was just looking for some company.” He shifted in his seat, legs turning so he faced her as his tone turned sharp in the quiet space between them. “Now are you gunna tell me your name or what? Like I bought you a drink, the least you could do is tell me who you are.”

Sigh.

Of course things could never go the easy way, he just had to be difficult.

Rose shifted uncomfortably at the counter, her shoes dangling just above the foot rail as she perched on her stool. She was short, not even 5'4" with a petite and curvy hourglass frame that fit snugly on the seat. Her luscious mane of copper curls cascaded over her shoulders as she tensed into the counter, the blonde highlights peeking out from her bangs and glowing in the low bar lighting as her deep, emerald green eyes side-eyed the man sitting next to her.

After a lengthy internal debate, she decided giving her name would not kill her, and hunched further against the bar top as she answered him.

“Name’s Rose. Nice to meet you.”

“See, was that so hard?” Mark sneered, making her outwardly cringe as she immediately regretted her decision. “So, why are you here by yourself? Boyfriend ditch you?”

Rose snorted, eyes rolling as she looked back to her glass.

She was incredibly beautiful; she knew it, everywhere she went people knew it- she couldn’t escape it.

But after years of bad experiences with men she had a bad attitude and a big mouth, which usually led to them running off, tails between their legs, when they tried hitting on her in public like this. Normally she only went out with friends and would’ve told this man off in a heartbeat, but being alone at the bar, and after everything that happened today, she was left feeling a little vulnerable and less bold than usual.

She glared over her glass at him as he rested an arm on the bar top next to her.

“That is honestly none of your business, and I would really prefer to be alone dude. Besides,” she turned to point out some young women giggling at the other end of the bar, “those girls seem way more your speed.”

As she turned back, she saw movement in her peripheral vision, but when she looked again at her surroundings nothing had appeared to have changed, so she dismissed it.

Mark flashed a cocky smile at her but seemed to take the bait.

“Aight, your loss. But if you change your mind I’ll be over there waiting, hot stuff.”

Giving a wink, he stood up from his seat and left Rose’s side to go chat with the young 21 year olds in the corner.

“Thank god that’s finally over. I thought he’d never get the hint.” She mumbled into her glass, finally relaxing again.

She took another hit of the scotch, and let her mind wander back to the events of the day.

Rose had come home from a gig to find her boyfriend of eight years in bed with another man, and while she was upset and hurt, she also didn’t know how to process the new information.

She felt guilty, mostly. She may have pushed him into the relationship when he wasn’t ready, and he had been stalling on proposing but wouldn’t give a reason why. With everything in the open now she felt like a weight had been lifted, that maybe she wasn’t unattractive- her boyfriend was just gay.

Shaking her head, she took another swig, wincing at the burn as it slid down her throat.

Her now ex-boyfriend had promised that he wouldn't be at their shared apartment tonight, so she could process what happened and make a plan on what to do next.

God, she hadn’t even called her brother yet. That was going to be an absolute nightmare of I-told-you-so’s. She had written off his comments about her relationship and ignored the signs: the lack of affection, the constant trips out of town, the hanging out with friends that she wasn’t invited to that would end up as overnighters.

Hell, she still loved Nick, but her heart ached for the both of them. How long was he suffering in silence about this, and why didn’t he just come out and talk to her? They had been friends before they started dating, and they were supposed to be a team, right?

Damn, this is a mess.

Her eyes were glued to the remaining liquor in her glass as she swirled the liquid around, the last of the melting ice cube clinking against the sides of the container.

A fucking mess.

Signaling the bartender, she paid her tab and finished the last of her drink.

Rose slid off the stool, and as she stepped towards the door, suddenly the room started to spin.

Did I drink that much?

Shit.

Desperately trying to regain control of her body, she took a deep breath and moved quickly on unsteady feet out the main entry doors for some fresh air.

Once outside, the cool September air whipped against her face as she adjusted to the darkness of the city street.

The lights from the bar's front entry were growing fuzzy around the edges, and she couldn't tell if it was from the panic in her throat or the hum of the liquor in her system.

Rose shook her head and quickly stepped into the quiet alley next the bar, trying to maintain her composure while methodically trying to retrace the night's events.

Luckily her apartment building was close by, but she wasn’t sure she could walk with how much everything was spinning out of control.

Two drinks?

Yes, they were strong. But two had never been an issue before.

Then it hit her.

“That FUCKER!”

The arm movement that she dismissed earlier- he must have put some kind of roofie in her drink when she turned her head.

Remembering what she could about the drug, she immediately stuck her finger down her throat trying to ralph up anything she could muster. Cringing at the action, and hoping she wasn’t too late, she got up what she could and dug into her bag for her phone while stabilizing herself against the wall.

Just as she tried to hit the call button on the screen, her phone was smacked out of her hand and she felt a force knock the wind out of her, leaving her gasping for air and falling to the ground.

“ We can’t have you doing that, now can we? Not after how long I had to wait for you to finally get up and leave- you don’t want to be rude, right?”

Mark and another man that she hadn’t seen before were standing above her, smiling and laughing to themselves.

She was still present enough to know how much danger she was in, but could barely see straight enough to even stand up, let alone fight her way out of this.

Fuck.

Mark bent down to grab her hair at the scalp and forced her to look up at him. “Now, we’re going to all play nice, and as long as you behave you’ll be fine.”

With his last words she felt a knife press against her throat, the blade thick and sharp. There was a stinging sensation as blood was drawn where the point of the metal was stabbing into her skin. And she couldn't help the wince that curled the other man's lips up into a sneer.

The other man flicked his eyes back to the alley entrance, and jutted his chin at Mark to head further into the darkness.

Her assailant yanked on her hair, in an attempt to drag her up on her feet and get her to comply. As she clumsily stood and took a few swaying steps with them, the knife left her skin and came to rest at his side, still a threat but no longer drawing blood.

Rose’s mind was swimming too much to think of a full plan, but she knew she had to do something.

No se saldrán con la suya sin pelear conmigo, malditos cabrones- I’d rather die.

An old saying from her Dad popped into her mind as she stumbled in Mark’s grip down the alley:

Lucha hasta el final, chaval; Go down swingin', kid.

Hearing movement somewhere nearby that wasn’t the two men, she made a decision.

Hopefully whoever was nearby would hear her and help. Or, at least she gave it her best shot- no regrets.

Gathering up her courage, she went for it. Rose knew she would have a few seconds, and she had to make them count.

Using what strength and focus she had left, she turned in Mark’s direction quicker than he could react and palm striked his nose. She felt the crunch of his cartilage in her hand right before he cursed loudly.

“WHAT THE FUCK BITCH!?!”

She had already started to turn and run, but her movements were slow due to the drug in her system.

Giving everything she had, she screamed.

“HELP, SOMEONE PLEASE HEL-”

She was tackled to the ground before she could get to the street and felt a hard kick to the ribs as someone held her down. The pain was so intense she wanted to cry, but there was no air left in her small body. The kick had winded her again, and she was left gasping as the strikes continued.

“You -fucking- bitch-” Mark huffed in between thuds of his shoes against her chest. He stopped the barrage and spit on the ground near her face. “If you thought it was going to be bad before- you have no idea what you’re in for now.”

The other guy moved from restraining Rose on the ground and grabbed her hair again. She was bleeding now, red smeared on her skin like blush.

“You’re gunna get it bitch, and you’re gunna be beggin we kill you.” He chuckled darkly and turned back to Mark, grabbing the knife again and holding it against her cheek.

Mark stood off to the side, eyeing her smugly as his nose dripped with his own blood.

“First, we’re gunna start with cuttin off this pretty hair of yours.” He sneered, obviously enjoying himself.

Rose was barely hanging on to consciousness and felt a tear run down her cheek, knowing this would be her last night on this earth and these pricks were the last thing she’d ever see.

I tried, Dom.

I'm sorry.

Suddenly, a figure landed behind the men with a powerful thud on the pavement.

“Now that’d be a shame to wreck her pretty hair, don’t ya think Leo?”

The men jumped at the gravelly voice behind them, and audibly gasped when three other figures emerged from the shadows.

One of them stepped closer.

“I believe you’re right, Raph. It looks like these boys don’t understand the meaning of chivalry.” The figure leaned down to look both trembling men in the face. “Let go of her. Now.”

The man holding her tightened his grip on her hair, and Rose could feel his hand shaking. She yelped from the pain and the first figure that had spoken growled under his breath.

“You gunna fuckin make me, freaks?!” The man sneered and flicked his knife in their direction. “Just leave us alone and we won’t hurt y-.” He had barely finished speaking when the first figure grabbed the man’s neck with one hand and lifted him off the ground.

He let go of Rose and the knife to grab at the massive fingers around his throat, and she sank to the ground unconscious as the blade clattered to the asphalt.

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

Raphael and his brothers had been cooped up for so long in the lair that they were all going a bit stir crazy.

Master Splinter had not been feeling well, so the team had stayed home to care for him in his old age for a week or so while he recovered. Donatello and Leonardo were the main care-takers, while Raphael and Michelangelo mostly tried to stay out of the way.

As a result, the two spent most of their time in the weight room, annoying their brothers with the constant clinking of metal all hours of the night.

Tensions had reached a boiling point this afternoon, when Donnie had been trying to nap on the couch. Mikey and Raph had snuck up behind the sofa and flipped it, sending their brother flying with a squawk as he flailed to the ground.

As a result, Mikey and Raph were sentenced to bathroom cleaning duty for a month, and once Sensei was tucked in for the night, the team headed out to patrol.

They had stopped for a moment atop an apartment building in the dark of the city, waiting and listening. Donnie had been combing through the police scanner, but it was a quiet night in NYC.

Well, as quiet as the city gets anyway, Raph thought.

There was the constant hum of cars, horns, and people bustling around 24/7, but he loved it.

New York was home, and even though they would never be able to live like humans, he still wouldn’t trade his life for the world.

As Raph was lost in the view of the city skyline, a yell from a few blocks over caught the turtle's attention.

The team jumped into action, headed to the source of the noise.

Each turtle had a different style of traveling from roof -to-roof, and Raphael laughed as he watched the youngest flip through the air over a billboard- Mikey loved to show off with his board any chance he got.

“It’s crazy that no one’s noticed ya Mike," Raph huffed as he swung over a gap between buildings, “with how much you mess around ya’d think we'dve gotten caught daily by now.”

“Oh you’re just jealous you don’t have my mad skills, dude” Mikey gloated, doing a front flip over the side of a ledge with a wink to prove his point.

The red banded turtle shook his head and smiled- as much as his brothers annoyed him, they were family, and he had to admit the guy had some serious acrobatic talent.

Not that he’d ever tell him to his face.

They arrived at a building overlooking an alley next to a dive bar, and saw two men entering the dark side street. Raph narrowed his eyes as he watched them, and froze when he saw their target.

A young woman leaned on the outside wall of the bar, clearly shaken and digging in her purse for something. In a moment the men were on her and she was knocked to the ground, gasping for air.

He jolted forward, but a firm hand on his arm signaled him to halt. It took everything in him to not rush down, but he knew better than to start a fight with Leo over “who the leader was” again.

He looked over to Leonardo, who eyed the scene for a moment before pointing to the nearest vantage point, and they made their way down to the alley.

As Raph moved, he watched the woman as the men spoke to her in hushed tones. Her hair was captivating and out of place in the dark alley, almost a copper halo of curls surrounding her face, and he couldn't help but stare as he climbed.

Focus, gotta focus.

As they prepared to leap down into action, the woman did something that none of the turtles expected.

She broke one of the guys' noses and was running back to the street, yelling for help.

Raph almost smiled; this girl had some brass balls. She was in this life-or-death situation, and chose to fight her way out instead of cowering.

“ Leo, we've got to get in there, but she’s too close to the street now. We’ll be seen.” Donnie looked down at the well-lit street and alley in front of them. There were cars passing by, but no pedestrians; so maybe she would get to the street so they could apprehend the men in the alley without her seeing them.

“Yeah, Don. Just let me think for a minute.”

He was right.

They could not expose their family and risk their safety, but they also needed to uphold their oath to protect the citizens of this city.

It's their duty, as heroes of New York.

Leo huffed to himself and chewed at his lip as he kept his eyes focused on the scene in front of them.

“Leo, we gotta get down there."

Raph was close to snapping. He watched in horror as the men caught up to her and took her down, beginning a fierce barrage of kicks to her chest.

“I ain't waitin’ Leo.”

Raph leapt off the building and landed behind the men, his brothers following suit. He figured he would have to answer for not following orders later, but he just couldn’t watch this happen.

His feet made a loud thud boom in the quiet darkness directly behind the men.

The woman was conscious but fading, and as Leo took the lead in trying to convince them to surrender quickly, Raph watched as the man that had a grip on her hair tightened it. She cried out in pain, a tear streaming down her face, and Raph lost all control he had over his anger. The guy said something to him, but he didn’t hear it.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was gripping the man’s throat in one hand and lifting him off the ground.

The prick was struggling and begging for his life, but all Raph could see was the beautiful woman on the ground, bruised and bleeding.

Mikey scooped her up in his arms, and Donnie began checking her vitals on his wrist scanner.

Raph could faintly hear Leo saying something, and it took a minute before he heard him clearly.

“Raph, put the guy down. Cops are enroute, and you’re going to kill him.”

He loosened his grip and let the unconscious male slip from his hands, slumping on the ground.

“Payback’s a bitch.” Raph chuckled darkly. Coming back to his senses, he felt a little guilty.

A little.

“Donnie, is he dead?” Mikey's voice was steeped in worry as he poked his head over Raph's shoulder, the woman still cradled in his arms.

The purple banded turtle looked over at the man before turning his attention back to the bigger problem at hand.

“No, just unconscious. She, however, is not doing well and will need medical treatment.”

Turning to Leo he commented as his fingers danced over his scanner, eyes scanning the digital displays, “I think they gave her some sort of drug. Her blood alcohol level is low, but she seems to be under the influence of something. I worry that a hospital would not know what to look for if we just dropped her off. I would be able to test and treat her in the lab- “

Donnie cut himself off as his monitor beeped.

“Her vitals are dropping, Leo. What’s your call?”

“Call Sensei and let him know we’re having company. Let’s move out boys.”

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