#ikemen prince Vera

[ythmir-writes]

fandom: Ikemen Prince character(s): Chevalier Michel and Vera (OC) warnings: none

prompt #1027 (from creativepromptsforwriting) “I could make you beg for it.” “I would love to see you try.”

a lil warm-up! maybe part of Vera's "official story" maybe not but just something something you gotta warm up the engine and somethng something The only tolerable state is having just written.' and my dudes do we fking try (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

The sun continued its slow descent, setting the ballroom in a blaze of red. The glass panels drowned the entire room in Vera’s colors and Chevalier found himself wishing it would not mirror so much the color of blood. Then again, that would be useless thinking. Knowing the identity now of Vera’s god, it was apt. 

And it would explain a great deal of the why.

Chevalier had never relied on luck in his life but in this instance, he knew it was simply that. It was luck that landed him this morsel of information. It was luck that he was able to see beyond what he’d been told. He loathed to admit it even to himself. If he had not been spearheading an alliance beyond Benitoite and Jade, if Obsidian had not been intercepted, if he had not been a voracious reader himself, he would not have the necessary pieces to Vera’s story.

Chevalier found himself piecing together their identity in his head. He did not like the picture he was forming. 

What to do now with this information…

And then Chevalier notices the exact moment Vera understood he knew. 

“Will you tell them?” They ask.

He frowns at Vera, follows the movement of their hand from the window down to their sword. He knows they know he is watching. Vera’s grip is loose but at attention. If they strike, it would leave him with little choice. He did not want it to come to that.

“That would be ill-advised.” Chevalier says. To which action he is referring to, he does not elaborate.

Vera does not move their hand. “I’ve gotten used to the quiet I’ve been having so far. I won’t let anyone take it. Not even you, Prince Chevalier.” 

“Anyone with half a brain could figure it out.”

“Then do not make it any easier for those with a quarter of a brain!” Vera exclaims. “Or a fifth!”

Despite himself, Chevalier chuckled. 

“Don’t.” Vera insists. 

“Do you think you can stop me?”

Both of them know the answer to that question. Vera would try and oh would they kill themselves trying. Chevalier realizes he does not want that either.

In a huff of frustration, Vera tears themselves away from the window, away from him, glaring all the while. They thundered towards the doors, footsteps loud and cranky, but then stopped, and turned back to look at him. “Keep this between us, please.”

A zing of delight. Say it again. But Chevalier stomped the feeling down. “You misjudge my intentions.”

“It is precisely because I can never discern your intentions that I am saying this now.”  

There is one way to convince me.”

“How?” Only Vera can raise their chin in defiance at him like this and live. 

How indeed? Chevalier regards them and discovers another truth for himself: he would loathe to see this vulnerability exposed to anyone else.

So, he starts to slowly close the gap between the two of them again. Vera watches him with that unflinching iron gaze, their eyes not leaving his face. Even as he stands so close, closer than before. So much closer he could almost see himself reflected in their eyes. She stands taut. He knows that look; the look of someone bracing for a battle. 

He wonders if he looks much the same. More than likely. His arms would not be so ready to strike otherwise. 

Chevalier knows he should not push it. There was no need to dig at them deeper. It should be enough for now that he had a key piece to the puzzle. He could unravel the rest later on. But Vera has told him their truth, although unwittingly, and he should respond in kind. 

What good would it do anyone for blades like us to be brittle? He wants to say, but instead what leaves him is: "I could make you beg for it.” 

The change is instantaneous and if there was a lock in Vera’s soul, Chevalier heard it click. Not only was the armor once again in place, it was reinforced with that strength that only they, among everyone he knew, possessed. 

Gold flashed in Vera’s gray eyes. They bared their teeth in challenge. “I would love to see you try.” 

Chevalier smiles, knows it is pleased.

Knows it is hungry.

[naddy-and-stuff]

My Ikemen Villain OC: Vera

So like... She is technically my second IkeVil OC, but I've thought of her backstory more than my first (who is Harrison's muse). So she's out first.

My girl's got the hots for Nica Schwartz.

More below the cut.

This is Vera and here are some facts about her:

📕She is an illegitimate daughter of a nobleman and a governess from a different noble family. Vera grew up with her mother and step-father and never met her biological father. In her opinion, it wasn't necessary to meet her biological father. She knew of him, but is not really interested in knowing him.

📕Her mother raised her to be a proper lady, intending to introduce her to high society when she came of age. This did not come to pass as Vera was put into the care of her nanny and tutors as soon as her mother and step-father had children of their own.

📕Vera was taught that ladies needed to be prim and proper, otherwise they would not be attractive or desireable. To this extent she was extensively tutored in good manners and proper etiquette. She was also taught to read and do maths, though she was far fonder of the former. Eventually, she found solace in fairy tales and came to the conclusion that she would only be attractive and desireable if she were to be like the princesses in the books she read.

📕This has caused her to look at the world through lens that were entirely dependent on fairy tales. Vera would perceive and view reality as though she were in a fairy tale. She believes that someday a prince would come and be attracted to her; desire her, even. To this end, she perfects her smile in the morning when she wakes up, takes extra care in grooming and dressing herself, and she randomly braids locks of her hair to make her memorable. So that her prince wouldn't need to look too hard for her.

📕She was granted her inheritance when she came of age. It became clear that she was not entirely welcome in her mother's new family so she packed and left. With her inheritance, she set up a book shop where she sold all sorts of books and reading materials. Eventually it became a library of sorts; Vera dedicated a place where her patrons could sit, read, and drink tea.

📕Fun fact: she once drank an excessive amount of alcohol at a social function and thoroughly embarrassed her tutor and mother when she openly flirted with a betrothed man. Vera believes that this was also one of the reasons why she was subtly sent out of the family. When she recounts it, she merely chuckles, saying that it was a lapse in judgment. The man she had flirted with hardly looked like a prince.

<>.<>

Will post my two drabbles about her and maybe make a directory of her and my other OC.

I used this picrew for her cause I cannot draw:

[incorrectmidc]

“I may be right, I may be wrong, but I’m perfectly willing to swear, that when you turned and smiled at me, a nightingale sang in Berkeley square.”

[naddy-and-stuff]

First Encounter: Vera

So... This is the first drabble for my Ikemen Villain OC Vera. I need to start writing more. (⁠ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ⁠✿⁠)

I own nothing but the drabble and my OC. Ikemen Villain belongs to Cybird. That being said, reproduction and reposting this without express permission from me is a butt move and will make Victor cry ಠ⁠︵⁠ಠ.

CW: There are descriptions of injury and implied self-harm. Both are metaphorical but if this is not your cup of tea, please feel free to step back.

Otherwise, enjoy! =)

Fiction existed as a weapon - a blade with two edges. Sometimes it fought off the dark grasp of reality by nurturing dreams and inspiring hope. And sometimes it fed the all-consuming flame of reality that left bitter ashes in its wake. Some think that using one edge exempts you from the other, but in reality you are simply one mistake away from cutting yourself.

Vera flipped the sign of her little bookshop to start her day. Tea was brewing and it filled the air with the scent of lavender. While she initially only sold books, some of her patrons had taken to sitting and reading. So she made space for a reading area where customers could also enjoy some tea.

The clinking of the overhead bell told her that someone had arrived. Putting on her best and most accommodating smile, she faced the door. Her voice immediately died in her throat.

Because never before had she cut herself so deeply. So sure she was of her ability to wield fiction and never cut herself beyond superficial nicks. But now the ashes hit the back of her throat like sweet honey and spun sugar.

All of a sudden her heartbeat was far louder than she remembered. Every thump was punctuated by his footsteps into her little shop. She was grateful for the time she always spent in making herself look presentable and braiding locks of her hair so that she would be memorable. She was glad that she took the time to make her clothes look better than they actually were.

Because Vera may deny it all she wanted, but none of the nicks was superficial.

He looked out of place in her little book shop, with his dark hair and white clothes. He looked like a prince looking for his princess with nothing but a shoe to go off of. A look into his eyes and his posture made Vera feel like he was dangerous.

And that enthralled her.

She could imagine it: her prince was not just a prince, but also a fighter of some sort. She would not be surprised if he had a firearm with him or a dagger. She could imagine him running his fingers through her hair and tugging just right. Just to remind her that she could run but never hide.

And then he spoke, “Good morning. Got any interesting books?”

Oh and his voice.

Vera could imagine him whispering to her ear. It hardly mattered what he said; she only wanted him to say something. Like moonlight filtering through her window in the evening, it filled her with a sense of delight. All of a sudden there was no solace left in the books anymore. Fiction or reality did not matter. All that mattered was that she found someone. Someone who cut her deeply and made her feel the gaping hole that reality left when it burned everything away, leaving only ashes; sweet ashes.

She left her little counter and asked him specifically what he was looking for. Her prince wanted to be familiar with the area so she brought him to where the newspapers were. Briefly she apologized since the paperboy had yet to come by with today’s newspapers.

His laugh was divine. Vera found herself waiting on his every word. With unsteady legs, she left his side, telling him that he could call on her if he needed anything more. The twinkle in his eyes made her heart soar and Vera knew that she would give him what he asked, were it in her power.

“By the way,” he said as she neared her counter.

When she turned, Vera saw his eyes twinkling. Something in her screamed that she was in danger, but she firmly stamped it out when he crossed the distance between them so easily. With nimble fingers adorned with rings, he caught one of the braids she had.

“You look beautiful with these.”

Fiction was a double-edged sword and Vera gleefully let herself be cut open by it. She danced in the blood and ashes left by her prince in his wake, dreaming that she would see him again.

Or, perhaps, this time she would seek him out.