#and my hands were all sticky after carving out the wax from the frames

[shararan]

Arguments for Luo Binghe Beenghe being bee coded:

- Sweet

- Sticky

- Fussy if things don't go his way

- Hard working and firm about routines

- Good food

- Can turn Huan Hua Palace the hive against you and swarm if discontent

- Did I mention sweet and sticky

[vannahfanfics]

Kingdom of Lies

Category: Suspense

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts

Characters: Larxene, Naminé

Tap. Tap. Tap. The sharp blade of Larxene’s knife tapped against the pristine white table. Its razor-shop point scoured into the soft wood, sending little chunks and splinters skittering across the otherwise clean surface. She leaned her cheek in her other hand as she repeatedly stabbed the table, her eyebrows narrowed frustratedly. She carved her frustration out in that white table, seated in a white chair in the middle of a white room with white curtains still around a white window. White, white, white; it was so maddeningly boring, being trapped in this castle of ivory waiting for that pipsqueak to lose his memories and fall right into her and Marluxia’s carefully woven net. 

“Ugh, this sucks!” she snapped, suddenly jerking upright to chuck her knife at the wall. The blade buried itself an inch deep in the white paint, electricity sparking around the hilt as her ire mounted. Larxene hated boredom, but she met it too often within the halls of Castle Oblivion. She wished she could just pound that little boy into a pulp and be done with it, but Marluxia insisted that they use the witch’s powers to replace all his memories and make him compliant. Compliance made everything easier, the pink-haired man would smirk at her while batting his pretty lashes. That smirk and that flutter always did her in, damn it. 

Morosely, Larxene rose from the table to saunter over to her knife, yanking it out of the wall with an irritated huff. She turned it over and over in her fingers, which had long since grown accustomed to the sleek handle and the electricity skipping over the metal. She supposed she could play target practice with the empty white picture frame on the wall (seriously, who decorated this place? An empty painting?), but her expression soured just at the thought of it. No, she craved violence, or at least the look of dismay on a cute little face… 

Hmmm… It has been a while since I paid our little witch a visit, she thought devilishly, pressing the tip of her knife to her glossed lips as they curled into a sinister smirk. They wouldn’t want their little tool to get too big for her britches as her knight in shining armor ascended the castle, after all. Chuckling darkly, she tapped the knife against her mouth a few times. The kiss of metal against the tip of her tongue was familiar and satisfying, but not nearly as satisfying as Naminé’s would be… Grinning, she flounced out of the room, the hem of her coat swishing around her legs as she eagerly made her way to the memory witch’s quarters. 

The young girl gasped as Larxene barged in, flinching against the back of her chair. Her blue eyes were wide with fright and anxiety as Larxene waltzed across the room, making a show of twirling her knife around her fingers. 

“Well, hello there, sweet Naminé,” she crooned, grabbing the girl’s pale cheek and pinching it hard. The girl didn’t let out a single peep as Larxene harshly wiggled the skin back and forth, giving it a slap when she let go. Naminé stared down at her sketch paper with watery blue eyes, the skin of her cheek a blistering red from the older woman’s harsh treatment. “Why the long face?” she tutted, walking around the back of the chair and tapping the knife against her lips in faux confusion. “Your knight Sora is fighting oh-so-hard to rescue you; shouldn’t you be overjoyed?” 

“His care for me is borne of lies,” Naminé said quietly. Her fingers tightened around the edges of her sketchbook, crinkling the page on which she’d been drawing. A half-finished rendition of an island beach decorated the white page— the only color in this dismal castle of whiteness. Larxene was jealous that Naminé could bring forth that color, while the rest of them had to persist in this blinding white void. “How could I be overjoyed when I know that he is marching towards a trap?” 

“A trap that you built,” Larxene reminded with a waggle of her finger. Of course, that was another lie in this kingdom of lies, but saddling the young girl with guilt sure kept her compliant, as Marluxia liked to tout. Plus, Larxene just loved the way Naminé’s face scrunched up in misery and tears beaded on her platinum-blond lashes. “Aw, don’t cry,” Larxene cooed, leaning down to grab her by the shoulders. She dug her nails into her porcelain skin, making her flinch as crescent-moon indents formed underneath the woman’s claw-like nails. “Sora’s such a nice little boy; I’m sure you could tell just the perfect lies to make him forgive you,” she grinned maliciously. 

Naminé sniffed petulantly and hung her head. Larxene couldn’t see the tears roll down her cheeks from her vantage point, unfortunately, but she could see the glittering droplets drip down onto the sketchbook. They bled into the absorbent paper, making the pencil wax run and melt together into confusing swirls. 

Larxene bit down on her tongue, trying to suppress the absolute glee bubbling up inside of her. Oh, this was so much better than chucking knives at an empty canvas! Naminé cried quietly as Larxene massaged her shoulders in false compassion, scratching her nails into the girl’s soft skin. 

“That’s what you do best, isn’t it?” Larxene pressed. She pulled the girl’s short blond hair back so she could speak venom into her ear. “Craft lies for your own gain… If this is a kingdom of lies, you are the queen of it, my dear, sitting on your throne creating falsehood after falsehood… First that pathetic Replica, and now sweet little Sora, painting his heart of gold black little by little. You really are a witch.” 

“Stop,” Naminé begged, covering her face with her hands. “Please, stop.” 

“What? You don’t like to hear the truth?” Larxene tsked as she straightened up. She lightly smacked Naminé upside the head as punishment for snapping at her; she couldn’t let such disobedience go unchecked, after all. “You lie to yourself most of all, pretending that you don’t carry any of the blame. If you had a spine, you wouldn’t let us make you do these things.” 

The girl was silent for a moment, aside from her sniffles. After mostly composing herself, she picked up her colored pencils and resumed sketching the island scene. Larxene pursed her lips, irritated by her silence. It seemed she’d pushed too many buttons and forced the girl into silence, which was no fun. 

“You’re right,” Naminé murmured, eyes blank as she continued to sweep the pencil across the page to fill the ocean in with blue. “I’m scared…” She trailed off, just silently coloring. Larxene clicked her tongue; she’d draw no more entertainment from the girl today, and Marluxia would scold her if she made Naminé too upset. Larxene gave the girl’s cheek one last harsh pinch before striding out, slamming the door behind her. The boom echoed in the empty white halls, reverberated through the castle of lies they’d crafted to lure in the Keyblade. 

Naminé, Marluxia, Larxene… Each of them played an integral role in maintaining this kingdom of lies, each of them weaving their web from their respective throne. They lurked like spiders in the silk, watching with bright eyes as their little fly obliviously became more and more ensnared within the sticky fibers. Soon he’d be wound up tight, struggling to get free, and they’d pounce to suck every ounce of power from him they could for their grand lie, their secret mutiny to usurp Xemnas. Lies upon lies upon lies formed the fabric of this castle, so much so that Larxene couldn’t keep track of who told them, who believed them. 

This was the place where truth came to die. Who needed truth when you had no heart, anyway?

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[unholyhelbiglinked]

For Better or Worse | Chapter Eleven

CHECK OUT THE REST OF THE STORY HERE 

I twirled the noodles around the base of my fork, an odd scraping sound pressing against the inside of my ears as I stared down at the mass in the middle of the plate. The sauce was a wine-like mess, it’s color sharp compared to the dull stretch of pasta. I had lost my appetite but figured if I kept pushing it around the round plate, maybe it would look like I made a dent.

Chloe wasn’t buying it, her lapis stare would flick from the blonde back to me at any given moment. I could tell she was walking on eggshells around me since the incident on the boat. I didn’t blame her- we got up and refused to talk about it for a week after it happened. But the wedding was fast approaching, and we had a lot to go over.

The marigold light that washed over the four of us was nothing to be desired. A few candles placed on the white tablecloth- the two of us having skillfully set the pages of decisions and documents around the wax filled glasses. “We drove out and took a look at the vineyard,” Chloe started.

“You liked it?” Jesse asked with a mouthful of garlic bread. Aubrey glanced his way, rolling her eyes at his childish demeanor when it came to food. I had learned quickly that if you didn’t eat fast around Jesse, you didn’t eat at all. Aubrey seemed to be used to the tactic as well.

“Loved it,” I raised the crystal glass filled with wine to my lips. I spoke into it “It was pretty,”

“A lot better than that old barn,” Chloe stated, the place smelled roughly of must and mold, it could have been fixed up with a little elbow grease. But to everyone here, the vineyard was the safer and cleaner option.

Aubrey leaned back into her seat with a deep smile on her lips. It wasn’t one that signified finding a location, though. Instead, it reflected something more. A glimmer in her eyes that wasn’t from that damned candle in the center of the table. Chloe must have noticed, knitting her eyebrows together as she raised her shoulders into a slight shrug.

“The vineyard sounds great.” She made a move to close the folder, causing a sharp intake of air on my end. “Enough business for one night, right? It’s been a long week.”

“I suppose,” I took another large gulp of my wine, hoping to drown out the numbing feeling of regret eating away at my core. My one eyebrow lifted with discontent. She was being odd, the whole table picking up on it as Jesse lowered his fork with a whole sloppy bite on it.

“You two are getting along well.”

Oh, that’s what this is about. A sly smile worked its way to my lips. Chloe stammering over her own food as she raised the cloth napkin to her lips and wiped away any residual food. None of us seemed to be sure why they had chosen such a fancy restaurant for such a quiet conversation that could have been had at Amy’s just the same.

“Yeah,” Chloe sounded out “I guess Beca isn’t so bad.”

“Don’t be so kind, Chloe.” I chided “You might pop a blood vessel.”

She snorted, placing her cloth napkin back down on her knee as she went back to twirling the noodles around the spades of her fork. The two of us could feel a set of Irish eyes bore across the table, Jesse having averted his own gaze to his meal. There was an awkward edge to it all- one that made me feel unsettled.

“Bree, you seem to be halfway there yourself,” Chloe said without glancing up.

“I’m just,” She let out a heavy sigh “I’m just happy to see the two of you getting along for once.”

“We get along,” I pointed the end of my utensil her way with accusation. The words didn’t even sound believable coming out of my mouth. But the blonde didn’t seem to care, instead, she just shook her head with little conviction.

“Good,” she finally let out a sigh “Then you can help Chloe move into the apartment over the shop.”

This time I did choke, the alcohol blurring the edges of my unhappy demeanor. The one thing I hated more than anything was moving. It was always hot and unbearable, and you woke up the next morning covered in grime with a thick ache running ramped. Chloe’s new apartment was on a second floor- even better.

“Uh,” The woman held up her hand “Before you object with that brooding charm of yours, I will be out of town that day with Jesse. We’re heading mainland for a fitting.”

Mainland. It sounded so odd. We were on a little strip of fishing town, not some ship bobbing up and down on choppy waves. Instead of speaking I pursed my lips and nodded reluctantly. Chloe was oddly silent through all of this, despite an angry fire under her gaze as she shot daggers at Aubrey.

The apartment was small- tiny and unruly compared to Aubrey’s big personality. It was really one large room with ridiculous floor to ceiling windows against one side- a little kitchen carved out from the side of the room by a marble-topped island. There was a slight hallway that branched off of the main area- one that contained a bathroom and a master bedroom- the other corner taken up by those wrought iron stairs that lead down to the bookstore.

I watched Chloe carefully as she knelt down to press the box she was carrying to the floor. She was dressed in a deep maroon tank top- a pair of yoga pants hugging the rest of her frame. It made my mouth dry- it was either that or the heat, I wasn’t really sure. But the way the hem of her shirt rode up right where the fabric met was doing me no favors.

Her eyes flicked towards mine, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Bec’s you can set that down. Your arms probably hurt.”

My own stare moved down to the box that was in my grasp, I was running my fingers against the peeled tape absently, feeling where it wasn’t so sticky anymore. My arms were sore, lips parted slightly as I bent myself, placing the box down next to a few others that we had pulled up into the area.

“You want some water?” She turned back to her project, “I’m sure I can dig up some cups somewhere.”

“Sure,” I mumbled, pushing my hand against the sweaty edge of hair that adhered itself to my forehead. I was panting, struggling to find my breath as I stared her down. “Haven chooses one day of the year to hit the high 90’s.”  

“Oh, so I can’t look forward to this nice weather all the time?”  She straightened up, a bit of confusion pressing against her features as she planted her hands firmly on her hips. She rolled her shoulders, adjusting her neck as the sore edge from moving heavy objects took a toll on her body.

Banter. This was banter that I was sharing with Chole Beale. Unlike the first night, the two of us had shared in the bathroom at the bar. She wasn’t in my face right now- not with the sexual tension that filled the small space before- but that shirt didn’t help a thing.  

I leaned heavily against the counter, watching carefully as Chloe flicked the faucet on and the liquid filled the cup. It was an odd noise, but not one unrecognizable. She slid one of them towards me before bringing her own to the brink.

She raised it to her lips, gulping down large quantities of water, a few drops running down her chin and collecting at her collarbone. I was staring through it all, so thirsty but not making a move for my own drink- my whole body was buzzing.

Ever since the boat, ever since she wrapped her arms around me when I was the most vulnerable, I almost craved her touch. The touch of someone who absolutely hated me for the most part- Chloe Beale was angry and snobby, and god, she wasn’t the girl for me. But Right now. Right now I wanted her more than anything.

“Beca,” She sounded out the hint of a smirk on her lips. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes,” I drew in a shaky breath “I mean, no. Just tired.”

She had the outline of a playful smirk on her lips, staring me down as she took her thumb and ran it along the edge of her lip, snapping her jaw shut. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

I wasn’t. I wasn’t sure about any of this. Part of me still wanted to scream at Chloe and confront her about the way she had changed her demeanor the moment she heard about the fire, the moment she learned about me- but I couldn’t fault the girl. It was a lot, and I was a lot, but she was just right.

The way Chloe Beale had weaseled her way into my life was tolerable. It was something that I could handle as long as I kept my distance- but over the past month and a half, the two of us were constantly pitted together. And that. The way she was in my mind all the time with a turquoise gaze and soft smile was enough to quell emotions that I couldn’t deter.

“Something you want to talk about?” She leaned heavily against the opposite end of the island- shivering as the cold granite pressed against flushed skin. She swallowed it down though, flicking her gaze against my body as she set the glass down.

I let out a small push of air, rolling my tongue over my bottom lip. I still hadn’t pulled my own drink to them, but my fingers were shaky enough to decide against it. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” She waved me off with the quick flick of her palm in front of her face. “What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t understand you, Chloe.” She pursed her lips as she raised a brow. She didn’t’ make a move to speak, so I continued “When we first met… You hate me, right?”

She barked out a laugh, it was a mix between a snort and a chuckle. Either way, it made a frown crease my features. She thought this was funny? My agonizing war within caused her to smirk and become amused at the very thought of this conversation? I let out a huff, pushing away from the counter.

I didn’t have much room to move before she wrapped her cold fingers around my wrist, a rough electric current shooting up my arm. “No, Beca, I’m not laughing at you.”

“Right, you’re laughing with me, then?” Chloe shook her head, gulping down a large breath of air as she adjusted her position at the counter. “I don’t want you to be nice to me because you know about the fire, alright?”

A strange expression crossed her features. “You really think that’s why I’m not being defensive?”

That clearly was out the window. Her body language shifted with great capacity. She had crossed her arms over her chest, constricting her jaw as I shoved the loose strands of hair to the side, walking around the large counter- I flipped the glass object over, letting the water wash down the sink as I felt sharp cerulean eyes dig into the back of my head.

“God, you are so insufferable sometimes.” She hissed under her breath.

“I’m insufferable?” I whipped around, hearing my sneaker squeak loudly against the wooden floors. I almost jumped back at how close she was, that same heat in her stare as before. I jabbed my finger against her collarbone. “You’re the one that’s either 200 degree’s hot or 2 degree’s cold. Make up your damn mind, Chloe!”

I jabbed her again, this time she grasped my hand, squeezing it tightly. “Stop pecking me to death.”

“What is it then, Chloe?” I said with sibilance “You hated me just fine before you knew. Do you feel bad for me, is that it?”

“Not everything is about you, Beca!” She shouted, shoving my hand away as she took a step forward. She was contradicting herself, another rough argument that the two of us shared as she came closer- I instinctively backed away, feeling the nave of my back against the cool stainless steel refrigerator. It shook.

“Do you ever think?” She asked, voice breathy as she placed her hand right above my shoulder, a look of anger in her eyes as sweat glistened close to her temple. Her voice was searing. “huh?”  

“Then tell me why?” I growled, ignoring her statement.

“You make me feel weird.” She relented, a hint of confusion flashing past blue iris’s as she moved her gaze down to the ground for a split second. “I don’t do weird. I do intimidating because fuck, Beca. You can’t get anywhere in real estate if you’re a woman- and you… you are so fucking rage inducing.”

I inhaled sharply, her thoughts were all over the place. It made sense- her uptight personality was enough to put me off in the first place- but this? This fluctuation between anger and lust was like a game that I couldn’t figure out. I didn’t say anything, not finding my words.

“You’re so broody, and I don’t really think you know what a shower is- but damn it, Beca Mitchell”

She didn’t give herself a chance to finish her thought before she roughly pressed her lips against mine- her touch stung as I let my whole body push roughly near the cold exterior of the object behind me. I was tense, not wasting much time as I raised my hands to her hair, tangling them in the sweaty mess as the whisper of a moan ripped through my throat.

She tasted like salt, salt and pure animalistic lust.

Chloe’s teeth dug into my bottom lip, her other hand pushing into my side. I felt her touch near my ribs as she begged for entry- I granted it, feeling her tongue swipe against the roof of my mouth as she growled with rough tension. Tension that had finally broken.

“Fuck, Chloe.” I groaned, finally pulling away as I put the back of my head against the surface of the fridge. She was panting, knitting her eyebrows together. “What was that?”

She pulled away, wiping the back of her hand against her mouth as she struggled to quell a growl. “Whatever you want it to be.”