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socksracoon10 · 1 year ago

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The Banter of Thieves

Pairing: Jack Sparrow x F!Reader

Jack Sparrow was by no means your friend. He wasn't even an acquaintance. His mere presence irked you, caused you to vomit overboard and wipe the drool that dabbled your chin as you spat out the lovely painting your stomach decided to spew out. The entire Caribbean sea knew better than to mess with you; you were the jewel of the ocean, the only woman to have stood for so long on your feet without ever backing down. Once your crew was outnumbered by the British officers, but you bravely traversed the seas and implied that you had more guts than your opponents. Another instance was when you managed to have stolen an artifact aboard a merchant ship that costed you a good fortune. You were the talk of Tortuga for weeks on end - added to that were rounds of free rum with jealous ladies and ecstatic men surrounding your presence.

So it was of to no surprise that upon hearing your name being tossed around like a ball, Jack Sparrow would've felt a little bit of resentment. Well, not a little - it was a LOT. He was devastated, he was hurt. How could the people trample around singing your name when HE was the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow! THE Captain Jack Sparrow of THE Black Pearl! He couldn't handle it. He just couldn't sit there and watch you swinging your arms around with the other pirates, gleefully cheering on your success. Drink after drink, he noticed the amount of rum you were being passed. Some men forced a glass to you, and though you politely declined, he noticed the way you'd give in after the third persistent person chimed in with a 'please' and there the rum would go down. It would cascade down your neck, around your breasts and find itself sloshed on the ground; Jack hated it. He hated to see the sight of pure, good rum being wasted away like that.

When you were passed out, slouched against a sturdy chair with the glass still in your hand, Jack had tip-toed to where you sat and stood over your sleeping form. You weren't a hideous creature; he'd seen much worse on his escapades. In his mind, he couldn't fathom to understand how a girl as beautiful and intelligent such as yourself could have the nerve to be a pirate and go against him? Him? Ugh, it made his blood curl at the thought. In any other circumstances, he would've tried to woo you or played some sort of game, but clearly those options were out the window. His eyes cast over to you once again, and he caught onto the tiny sliver of shimmering gold tucked away in your shirt against your bosom. Pursing his lips together, he grabbed a small dagger and carefully used the blade to hook onto the gold's chain; despite being a pirate, he still had SOME manners. Not all of them for a gentlemen, but at least enough so that he wouldn't have to be slapped by the rest of the women on Tortuga. Two was enough for him at the moment. Lifting the chain up into the air, his eyes flickered onto you for a brief moment; you stirred in your sleep, but not too much to indicate that you might be awake. He sighed in relief, holding the chain to the light as his eyes followed the path down to an intricately designed key. He narrowed his eyes at the design pattern, noticing a fresh emblem with the letters "C.D." inscribed. His eyes widened, bringing it closer to him. No, he couldn't believe it. How did she manage to find the key for The Cure of the Dead? Impossible! He pocketed the key, grabbing the glass of rum from her as she whined in her sleep. Chugging it down, he let out a hiss as the liquid flowed down his throat and marched out of the tavern with a new mission set on his mind.

"I'm going to cut off that dirty bastard's prying fingers," You growled, seated firmly in the cabin of your ship; when you had woken up after, you already knew what must've happened when the gold chain was missing and you cursed every God that existed in your mind to help you find Sparrow before he'd get his filthy, grubby hands on what you had desired. The Cure was no simple thing - no, it was not a simple little vial or a chest of wealth - it was much more. There was a certain ritual that was foretold in the legend; the one soul, after giving up four equal drops of blood, would be able to pursue the path of immortality and greatness. Your father had spent ages pillaging and tormenting anyone who proved to be an obstacle just to find the key. And now, under your possession - or well, was under your possession - you were extremely keen on protecting your father's legacy through the key, anxious to seek the glory in honor of your fearless father. At the present moment, that dream was starting to sink faster than a ship caught in a whirlpool thanks to the lovely Captain Jack Sparrow himself.

A few days had passed among the seas and your crew had slowly abandoned your ship, one by one. They knew it was going to be a very tiresome journey, but you should've known better that the slightest inconvenience would have them scuttling away back to their mummies. You cursed at them as they rowed away, swearing to enact your revenge one day if they ever dared to return to your captaincy. Your eyes shifted from them to the large island approaching your ship. You noticed another ship seated on the shore, some crewmen walking about the deck or on the sandy land. Assuming this was Jack's crew, you managed to park your vessel besides them and leaned over the deck to bellow,

"Oi! Is that Gibbs I see there?"

The old man swiftly turned at the mention of his name, narrowing his eyes at you with a scowl.

"Aye it be, Captain (L/N)," He rolled his eyes, nudging Raggetti whose bulging eyes seemed to seep right through you. Grimacing at the sight of the skeleton-like man, you climbed down onto the beach shore and dug your hands in your pockets.

"Where is that scoundrel?" You snapped, marching forward as a hand rested on the hilt of your sword. Gibbs scoffed,

"Bit of a strong word to use there, love," He paused for a moment, rubbing his nose before looking at you, "But if you must know, he went through the trees himself."

"Nobody else with him?"

"Nobody else."

"Well, then, after I acquire what is rightfully man, you all will very much be welcome aboard my ship." You grinned, scanning Jack's crew.

"But we've already got ourself a captain," Raggetti scorned to which you quickly added,

"Not after I'm through with Jack, you won't."

You left the gaping faces behind as you marched into the leafy forest ahead of you. Stepping over a few roots, you noticed a distinct imprint on the mud just a few inches from where you stood; the fool must've slipped and fell on his own face. With a guttural groan, you pushed through and followed the signs among your surroundings, the very same that your father used to tell you. Remembering his tales comforted you immensely, and you wished he was here to see his little girl all grown up and ready to see the treasure he had wished for so long. He would be proud of her, he would've loved her. He would've... surely not expected to see Jack Sparrow stuck between the branches of a tree.

"Jack?" You cocked your head to the side, stepping around the tree to see his face. His features were all scrunched up as he tugged his body to the best of his ability against the branches.

"Those stupid roots!" He exclaimed in a muffled tone. He cried out in exasperation, continuing to tug himself as much as he could before shrieking, "Don't just stand there! Help me!"

You stepped forward, just about ready to push his face out but you caught yourself, hands still in the air as you raised an eyebrow, "Give me the key first, and then I shall help you."

Upon hearing your words, Jack huffed out in annoyance, "Darlin', I think there's something more important here than your stupid key. Help me, first."

"No," You hissed, "You give me the key, and then I'll help you." You extended your arm out, beckoning for him to hand over your prized possession. Jack glared at you, muttering some cursed under his breath; you could've sworn he had said "that insufferable wench" and you scowled at him.

"Listen, love... darling... sweetheart," He groaned between tugs, "If you help me, I swear I'll hand over the key to you."

"You swear? You swear on your ship?" You prodded, and unbeknownst to you, he crossed his fingers behind his back,

"Of course! Of course, my love! N-Now just g-get me out of this stupid mess!" He seethed. You rolled up your sleeves, and placed your palms against his face, beginning to apply pressure.

"Ow... ow, ow, ow, ow, that's my precious face! You're gonna mush my skull in!" Jack screamed, and your blood boiled at his ungratefulness, causing you to begin pushing harder. You tuned out his cries of pain, finally released him from the stockade-like tree, and watched him howl and roll around the dirt. You kicked the side of his body, extending your hand out again for the key. He groaned as he sat up, taking your hand to lift him off the ground.

"You idiot!" You hissed, swatting his hand away, "I want the key!"

Jack blinked a few times, biting the inside of his cheek, "And here I really thought you'd care for me."

Standing back up on his feet, he noticed the way your gaze never faltered on him. He gave a disgusted expression towards you, sauntering off towards the cave opening with a determined mission on his mind. He paused, looking back at you with your open hand for a brief moment, before instantly picking up his pace. Screaming in anger, you charged after him and hopped onto his back, tugging his locks of hair as he shrieked in pain.

"Ow! Ow! Off, off! Look, women aren't meant to pull on my hair unless we're laying in bed together!" Jack hollered.

"I'm a pirate, you oaf, I can do as I please!" You bellowed, tugging harder and steering him away from the cave opening's keyhole. He stumbled backward and stood still for a moment trying to process something in his head,

"You mean to tell me you're not a woman?" He asked in a genuine tone of voice, before gasping loudly, "You deceitful bastard! You mean to tell me you're a filthy bugger impersonating a female?"

"Are you stupid?" You snarled, completely flabbergasted by his words. Not only was he the most aggravating pirate you'd ever met, but currently while on his back, he was definitely the stupidest one you'd ever come across. Jack trudged forward, trying his best to ignore the sharp pain of his hair practically ripping off his scalp as he shoved the key into its designated home. You cried out in frustration, watching the cave slowly open to reveal the circular stage under the beam of light. Upon seeing the glory in front of you, your head poked around his hair and leaned forward, completely in awe of its beauty.

"You know, you can get off me back now," Jack smirked, turning his head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of you. You shut your gaping mouth and hopped off him, dusting yourself of any of his filth as you walked past him. It was almost a dance in the way you blocked his path towards the light, your back facing him as your foot extended outwards and your body swayed.

"Don't be a child," Jack mumbled, stepping back and forth as he tried to find a way around you.

"Shut up, you don't even understand the value of this discovery. My father had spent ages-" You began before being cut off,

"Oh, the same old wishy-washy, swishy-swashy story. We know the legend, we know the journey (Y/N)," Jack yawned, "Your father was a thief for stealing that from Davy Jones."

"Thief? He was a pirate, if anyone's a thief you're the thief! You stole it from me when I was asleep!" You roared. Jack chuckled at your answer when you turned to face him,

"Pirate," He gestured to himself, with his eyebrows raising in the process, "It's part of the job description. And now you're a thief for wanting to steal what's mine... especially after the hell you just put me through," He moaned, rubbing his scalp, gently.

"It's mine." You hissed.

"No, it's mine," Jack stated, pointing to the circular stage.

"Mine."

"Nope, still mine, darlin'."

"You buffoon! It's mine! I get to be immortal, not you!"

"Eh, I've escaped death more times than you have, it's definitely mine, love."

"MINE!"

"Oi, don't raise your voice at me. My ears are a bit sensitive," Jack raised a finger, "Still mine, though."

"IT'S MINE, JACK!"

"Now you're just actin' like a child, be a lady... if you even are one," He raised an eyebrow with a suspicious look on his face. That was it, you couldn't take this banter any longer. You lunged forward, tackling him onto the stage as his head scraped against the rocky material. He groaned in pain as he thrashed around, rolling over you. Your elbows brazed against the ground under you and you hissed in pain before grabbing onto Jack's neck and dragging him under you.

As the fighting ensued, you both were completely oblivious to the drops of blood that seeped into the cracks beneath you. You tossed a punch at his jaw as he pulled your hair roughly. The opening of the wall behind you two was overshadowed by the insults that were thrown around with the occasional scream tossed into the mix. It wasn't until the light above you shifted towards the treasure chest meters away did the both of you stopped fighting; you lay on top of him, your head snapping towards the direction of the light as he did the same.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Jack asked, frowning.

"I-I don't know. I never really thought I'd get this far." You replied, trying to make out the sudden shift of the light. In an instant, Jack shoved you off him and bolted towards the chest. His fingers wriggled excitedly as he had a playful smirk on his face. He wrapped his hands around the edges of the chest and brought it open, only to find a small sheet of paper with instructions. That was a whole lot of build-up to nothing.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed your unconscious form slouched against a stone. He winced at the sight, carefully walking over to you. He must've shoved you too hard against the rocky stone when he flew to the chest. He glanced back down to the instructions in his hand, before looking back up to you. He took a deep sigh, realizing what he had to do.

When you had woken up, you found your head bandaged firmly. You lay on a small hammock as Gibbs stood before you.

"Aye, you aren't too much of a bad shape. It's a lucky thing Jack managed to bring you in like that." Gibbs smiled, his fingers brushing against your head. You rolled your eyes,

"Let me guess. He must've taken the treasure and run off, didn't he? He must have immortality and the greatest glory to ever exist." You seethed, crossing your arms.

"What? No. Lassie, he left you a little note before venturing off on his own to Tortuga. He's entrusted you to be Captain of the ship for the time being." Gibbs exclaimed, holding a note for you to see, "There's more to this whole shenanigan than just immortality. Apparently both your bloods were combined at the cave... meaning you both are one soul. He's gone off to search for more clues. In the meantime he wants you to rest. He seemed rather worried when we were fixing you up, and kept asking questions as to if you'd be alright or not."

Your mouth slightly parted at Gibbs' words, completely in disbelief. "He was probably making sure I was alright to ensure he'd get his share of the treasure."

"Oh, it was more than that, love," Gibbs winked at you, "I'm sure of it. I've never seen Jack like that around any other woman. Now, enough with me rambling, get your rest. You'll be having lots of more adventures with Jack Sparrow soon."

And with that, he left you with the note and you couldn't help but somehow feel your mind slowly consider Jack Sparrow as more than a thief, more than an acquaintance... and certainly more than a friend.

#writing #potc x reader #potc fanfiction #potc fanfic #pirates of the caribbean fanart #the pirates of the caribbean #jack sparrow #captain jack sparrow #jack sparrow x reader #jack sparrow x y/n #captain jack sparrow x reader #captain jack sparrow x y/n #pirates of the caribbean x reader #pirates of the carribbean x reader #pirates of the carribbean fanfiction

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gladiatorcunt · 7 months ago

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- # 🎰 All or Nothing (Ace in the Hole) !!

cw: afab!reader, breeding, implied murder, inaccurate fallout au (vault inspired by Fallout 76 bc i just wanted one mention of appalachian horror vibes), reader lowkey has a old man fetish (mentions of age gaps though no specific men are mentioned), childhood best friends to strangers to lovers (forcibly), future extreme dubcon, fallout typical sexism and expectations & creepy behavior (attempted grooming (?)), biblical undertones, ambiguous time period, implied southern setting & characters, unedited

1k event / commissions

It’s been so quiet for ages now, deathly silent as if everyone in the world was perfectly sound asleep. Your world consists of metal tunnels buried deep underground, a myriad of dark rooms that are meant to simulate the life you’re supposed to have on the surface. A cafeteria, where there’s hearty chuckles and playful ribbing over food even astronaut’s would have turned their noses up at. Piles of meat the same color as a fresh corpse, slightly moldy cheese and bread on the days the ego maniac people in charge are feeling fancy.

Green Houses, meeting rooms, infirmarys, kitchens, breeding rooms bedrooms, you truly have it all in vault 426. Jewel of the Texas Commonwealth. Even the howling coming from above like a hailstorm can be soothing when you have nothing else to listen to. They say your name when your back is turned, when they know you can’t venture out to see them. The temptation has driven people mad before, it will again. Right now, you wander through the vault searching for any sign of life. Yesterday you were arguing with your Ma over what she had done, hitching your wagon to one of the few unclaimed men your age. Now you were wishin’ on stars the elders used to talk about seein’ that you would peek around the rusting corner to find her waiting. You don’t want to wonder why there’s blood on the wall, varying between bright and darker shades of red.

Not a single peep from the man you were meant to marry, ‘your last chance at a proper purpose’ Pa had said. This vault wasn’t strongly steered in the direction of being a hive for breeding, but in these uncertain times more pairs of hands ready to rebuild the world were more than encouraged. Seeing as this bubble of refuge from the acid sky was so precious, every life counts. You knew that future would be yours someday, and you didn’t really mind. It got boring occasionally in the vault, knitting the same garment again and gossiping with your Ma’s friends about the same subjects. Maybe a cock in your cunt would settle your nerves, caring for a baby would be a task that would never end.

The wedding was supposed to be today, at noon on the dot. You overslept, panicking when your kitschy alarm clock didn’t rouse you from your dreamless sleep. It wasn’t until you zipped up your blue and yellow suit and tip toed outside of your room that you truly felt afraid. What reason would you have had to feel the uncomfortable emotion before? Life was so serene and idyllic nestled in the dirt, your vault a poor man’s sword in the stone. An intoxicating comfort zone that you cared more about staying in than fighting against, though there whispers from dwellers who felt otherwise. Your childhood friends, Patrick and Art, who you have drifted apart from over the years.

It was childish, your past feelings of jealousy, it wasn’t hard for them to become the most eligible bachelors in the community. There were only a handful of single young men left these days, or your only option was a old timer who had already broken in quite a few wives. They have the chipped belts and rough hands to prove it, you’ve gotten a rush of fluid in between your thighs when you lie awake and think about it for too long. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too terribly awful if you got saddled with a stern older man, some beaten down part of your brain begs for it. Your Pa’s buddies used to say that they would bet good money on tight your velvet grip would be.

There were many invitations to sit in on their blackjack games left unanswered in your Ma’s nightstand, under brass lock and key.

But to see your friends be giggled and fawned over made your stomach churn, so you pushed them away and focused on living as any good dweller would. Preparing to spend your years with your lips frozen in a smile and your holes split open around wrinkly skin, your shape molded by your husband. If you could’ve known that that would only make more determined to prove their toughness to you, that they would be the hands clasping pearls around your neck and slamming their dicks into your untouched flesh.

“Aw, hell-” A deep voice gasps and grabs ahold of your fore arms, wrestling you into an abandoned bedroom as you walk past.

You squawk, flapping your arms around in an effort to fight. Then you see him, Art, smiling gently and reaching out to cup your tear covered cheek. His other hand is free, which means that the man restraining you has to be Patrick. Where one is, the other will he close behind. There’s a saying about smoke and fire, and you hear the crackling embers as Art gingerly slides his other hand around your neck. A new fangeled set of pearls, hard won and all yours. Call it an engagement present.

“There you are, Angel Face, we were so damn worried about you.” Art coos, the ‘damn’ hissed in a way that gives off a ‘I still haven’t got used to being allowed to swear’ impression.

You think he could the be the angel, a scythe discarded in favor of a well used hatchet lying on the floor. His blood splattered curls call to you, or the absurdity of the situation must be sinking in and overpowering your ability to accept reality. Of course you had sensed their hungry eyes burning holes into your soul, yes you had heard the shuffling and muffled shouts outside your door. The way it would creak open when you were believe to have succumb to slumber. You don’t feel bored, and that’s enough of a thrill for you to recognize where your new place in the food chain is. The bottom.

“I don’t- I- What’s goin’ on? Where is everybody?” You ask, stupid and content to be their lover in distress.

Patrick readjusts his hold on you and wraps his arms fully around you, spinning you around to come face to face with him. If you thought Art looks drenched in blood, Patrick appears to be made of it. There’s lightning in his eyes, a phenomenon you’ve only heard and never seen. But this must be what it’s like, electrifying and God given. You’re stained now, no doubt about it, visibly and in your spirit.

“They went nuts, like a bunch of rabid dogs.” He grunts. “We had to defend ourselves, had us out here runnin’ around like headless chickens because you were gone.”

You weren’t brought up to know much, except that animals will be animals and man reacts accordingly. Patrick’s words make about as much sense as anything ever could, and you’re desperate to believe whatever yarn they have to spin you. Art nods and saunter up behind you. He wetly pecks you on the cheek, his lips ‘Smack!’ing the plump skin as he pulls back. You gasp and they share a foreboding laugh, shoving you further down a long dusty hallway where you can pretend that nothing bad has ever happened to you. That your Virgil and Dante followed after you with innocent intent.

“Get ‘em in the stirrups, Pat. Need these legs spread nice and wide. Don’t we, sugarpie?”

Your heart drops and floats back up at a jackrabbit’s pace, “W-what?”

Your look over your shoulder is perfectly timed, your hair framing your face like a pre-war Hollywood starlet. The kind that could cry at the drop of a hat and deep throat a stuffy executive’s cock in one go. Simmering heat pools in your belly, every circle of hell seemingly setting themselves aflame in your body. And while you know they wouldn’t dare seriously terrify you, they would probably get a kick in their pants if you let a sliver of fear slip. They’re men who no longer have a societies rules to wear as if they were costumes after all, perfectly chiseled faces and painted masks.

Offering you a marriage license so they plant you in a gilded cage, but Midas ghosted his fingers along your roots years ago. When you stumbled in on two boys playing a game that used to be popular in the pre-war days, a yellow-green fuzzy ball bouncing on a wired net racket. You giggled when an elder scolded them for staging their challengers match in the hall. And with the sound of a bell, the walls came tumblin’ down.

Patrick’s grin writes your name on the dotted line, “Our pretty lil’ cock socket, we’ll repopulate in no time at all.”

They had already stolen your wedding outfit that same day way back when, slim pickings have to be snatched up in this dog eat bitch world. But they were something far above dogs with malleable forms and a blunter bite, they were opportunists and God always has his eye on those who can seize what he provides.

The House always wins.

- 2024, do not cop/translate/feed my work to ai

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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

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Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 6

Hey, all! This story is finally picking up and we meet Eddie for the first time.

This is an extra long chapter because I wanted to have the gala all in one chapter instead of splitting it up.

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

****

Steve woke up to his best friend having planned the perfect date with Vickie. Today was already looking up.

“I told you she would say yes,” he told Robin smugly as he poured himself some orange juice.

Robin waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Mr Smarty Pants over there.”

Steve wiggled his ass at her and then sat down on the sofa next to her.

“So what’s on my schedule for next week?’

Robin pulled up his schedule again and hummed. “Looks like all you have is next Saturday; a charity gala for the arts on the arm of Senator Derek Lombard.”

“He’s always nice,” Steve said. “A little hard of hearing most of the time, but always just wants someone pretty to hang off his every word.”

“So an easy night for you then,” Robin said.

He hummed his agreement. “So what’s all that the event is about? Can I use it to network? Or will it be all politicians with sticks up their asses?”

Robin pulled up the event on her tablet. “Looks like it’s a fundraiser for putting music in poor neighborhoods as a way to combat gang joining and shit like that.”

Steve sighed. “Sounds like my worst nightmare. Classical music sounds like noise to me most of the time. It always puts me to sleep.”

“Then you’ll like this,” she said, scrolling through the list of guests. “The charity is the pet project of Corroded Coffin frontman, Eddie Munson. Apparently he was ‘trailer trash’, his words, and got out of the slums through the power of metal and rock music.”

Steve straightened up. “Shit. Is that that band that Dustin loves?”

Robin tapped something on her tablet and scrolled a bit. “Yep!” she chirped happily. “He is going to be so jealous when he hears you might get to meet him.”

He ran his tongue over his top row of teeth thoughtfully. “Yeah, okay. This sounding more interesting.” He tapped his lips. “If it’s his charity then it will likely have younger alphas there that I can network and get on my client list.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed. “Especially rockstars. They tend to just hop in bed with any willing omega or beta if an omega can’t be found to service their ruts.”

Steve licked his lips. “Bring over a small stack of business cards to take with me. Also does Senator Lombard have a style of clothes he wants me to wear?”

Robin skipped back to his schedule and pulled up the appointment. “Uh... it looks like he doesn’t have a preference just something ‘elegant’.”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Steve asked with a glimmer in his eye.

“If I am you might need to keep some heart medication on standby,” she said with glee.

“Oh good,” he grinned. “We are thinking of the same thing, then.”

****

Steve didn’t often wear dresses because he hated playing into the stereotype of male omegas being the women of the secondary genders. But this was his favorite outfit bar none.

It was a backless gold dress with a low cut front in a drape that showed off his bare chest. He kept himself as shaven as he was in high school on the swim team. Something that Tommy mocked him mercilessly for. But it made getting in and out of clothes easier, so Tommy could suck it.

The dress went all the way to his ankles and was split up the middle of each leg to show off his toned thighs. He wore jeweled open-toed kitten heels with a Grecian style strap down the middle. He wore a bangle on his left wrist and a charm bracelet on his right. The necklace and earrings matched, a wide gold setting with a single diamond in the center. And then to crown the whole thing off, he had diamonds glued to the strands of his hair so when he moved the light would catch the diamond and shimmer just so.

Senator Lombard was speechless when Steve walked down to the lobby of the hotel he was picked up from. Again for his safety that no one knew where he lived.

In his hand was matching gold clutch and over his shoulders in liquid waves a shimmering gold shawl.

“I am the luckiest man tonight,” Senator Lombard whispered as he took Steve’s open hand to guide him the rest of the way down the stairs.

“You flatter me, Senator,” Steve replied demurely looking up at the alpha through his eyelashes.

“And you honor me with your presence.”

Steve blushed and allowed himself to be led out to the waiting limo.

****

Senator Lombard was the talk and envy of a lot of people at the gala. Women hated the way Steve looked better in his dress then they did in theirs. The men were seething jealousy that Steve wasn’t on their arm.

The senator was a distinguished older gentleman of the old style of politics. Calm and collected in public, a conniving, calculated negotiator behind closed doors.

And he showed that strength here. Everyone was tripping over themselves to introduce themselves to him just for the pleasure of being in Steve’s company.

They had to know how Senator Lombard could afford such beauty and grace, so much so that Steve had run out of business cards before the appetizer was even brought out.

The only ones that stayed on the outskirts of Senator Lombard’s aura of influence was the members of Corroded Coffin.

They were dressed like the rockers they were. Lots of black clothes, jewelry, and eyeliner. Their tattoos and piercing further pushed them outside of the rest of the people at the gala.

People who despite being invited by the band were giving them a wide berth. Which was ridiculous in Steve’s opinion. One thing you must never be: is rude to the host.

Steve broke off from the senator and turned to make his way toward his hosts when there was gentle tap on his shoulder.

He turned around to see the prettiest of the band standing in front of him. He had long dark curls, deep soulful brown eyes, and dimples for days. Steve was smitten.

“You dropped this,” the man said, holding out his hand.

Steve opened his hand and a diamond dropped into it. He tucked his clutch under his arm and touched his hair. Sure enough one of his diamonds was missing.

“Thank you!” Steve cooed. “I don’t want to lose that!”

The man smiled and the dimples became more pronounced and Steve was close to swooning.

“I’m Eddie,” he said. “Eddie Munson. And who might you be, darlin’?”

Steve blushed. “Steve Harrington.”

Eddie’s eyebrows twitched upward. “A Starcourt escort in my house. I’m honored.”

Steve looked around the large foyer. “This is your place? It’s beautiful.”

Eddie smiled deeper. “Thank you. Now where were you off to just now?”

Steve giggled. “On my way to see you, actually. I’m not a fan of people being rude to the hosts. Regardless of who the hosts are.”

“Even if you disagree with their beliefs?” Eddie asked, a glint of mischief in his eye.

“I don’t go to those,” Steve replied with a wink.

Eddie’s eyebrows went up. “I wasn’t aware you had that much control over your clientele.”

“Maybe not to start with,” he said with a shrug. “But as one of my friends pointed out recently, when you’re one of the top ten paid escorts you have a lot more leeway.”

Eddie blinked those long eyelashes and Steve was captivated. “That’s fair. And you deemed my little shindig as worthy? I’m doubly honored then.”

“Well...” Steve murmured tilting his head to the side thoughtfully, “more like my handler, Robin. But she knows what I like.”

“And you like heavy metal?” Eddie asked, amused.

“More like good causes and deserving people.”

A waiter passed by and Eddie grabbed two champagne glasses from the man’s tray. He held one out to Steve.

“Oh,” he murmured. His hands were occupied. He hurried to put the diamond into his clutch and tucked the clutch back under his arm. He then took the drink. “Thank you.”

“That dress suits you,” Eddie said, licking his lips slowly.

Steve ducked his head a blushed. “Thank you. It’s my favorite dress.”

Eddie smirked. “I didn’t know you were allowed to wear the same outfit more than once.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “Not normally, no. But the key is to change up the accessories and chose a different setting. The last time I wore this dress was for dinner with a client. Some quiet upscale restaurant where privacy is key.”

Eddie looked up and down Steve’s body. “You certainly fill it well.”

Steve smiled. “It’s more fun to get out of.”

Eddie nearly choked as he was taking a drink of champagne when Steve said that. Steve rubbed his back soothingly as if he wasn’t the one that caused the distress in the first place.

Steve tapped the back of his neck. “There’s a little clasp right here. Just unhook and dress just slides right off.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide and Steve could tell he was imagining it.

“Escorts are great for all sorts of things. Dinner with family you want to impress. Casual conversations and movies nights for the rich and the lonely. Arm candy for charity events like this one. Not all my clients are in it for the sex.” Steve patted Eddie’s arm and then down the rest of his champagne. He put his glass on the tray of a passing waiter and went back to Senator Lombard with a cheerful wave over his shoulder.

****

Jeff came up and clamped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “That was the most embarrassing display I’ve ever seen. If this was a Looney Tune, your tongue would be dragging on the floor, man.”

Eddie pushed his friend playfully. “Shut it, Jeffey.”

“No, seriously, man,” Jeff said. “I haven’t seen you get that tongue tied with someone you were interested in since we got our first record deal.”

Eddie sighed. “I really should have known better than to come to a gun fight with a knife.”

Jeff laughed. “Yeah, man. Escorts are trained socializers. You didn’t have a chance.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen anymore beautiful then him in my life,” Eddie murmured. “And I’ve dated rock goddesses, super models, and A-list actors and actresses.”

Jeff hummed. “He’s certainly something, that’s for sure.”

“God,” Eddie huffed. “He even gave an in with hiring his services if I wanted and all I could do was stare at him slack jawed and stupid.”

Jeff pulled out his phone and began scrolling through it. “Well according to Starcourt’s website they offer all sorts of services. Gang bangs, threesomes, roleplays, rut servicing. You could throw a dart at a dartboard and each section would be a different service they offer.”

Eddie bit his lip. “Fuck, there is no way they’d let him service my ruts. I’m a blocker buster.”

Jeff winced. “Yeeeaaah. The last time you spent your rut with someone, they went into heat almost immediately. A fun time to be had, sure. But that guy could have gotten pregnant and you would have been on the hook for life.”

Eddie grimaced. “It wasn’t that fun if I’m honest.”

“They would absolutely whisk him away the second he even scented wrong.”

He nodded. “Looks like all I can do is dream and maybe beg to see if they’ll let me take him out to dinner.”

Jeff just shook his head. His friend was hopeless.

****

To say Steve felt smug would be an understatement. Not only did his little interaction with Eddie Munson fluster the alpha, but it spurred on everyone else to stop treating their hosts like they had the plague.

Suddenly there was a sea between him and Eddie and for now that was fine. It had been a long time since an alpha’s scent overwhelmed his senses.

Eddie’s scent was warm like cardamon and cinnamon. Like a hot drink on a cold winter’s day. Steve felt engulfed by it. It took every ounce of will power and training not drop to his knees right then and there. His actual client be damned.

But he managed to remain on his feet and walk away without Eddie knowing how close Steve had come to breaking his composure.

Senator Lombard kept a hand on Steve’s waist after that. Steve was sure he could smell the way Steve’s scent when he came back was strong and wild.

The senator didn’t know who had caused Steve’s scent to react that way, but he wasn’t going to take any chances that Steve might be swept off his feet.

Steve spent a good portion of the rest of the night, rubbing his nose along Senator Lombard’s scent gland to calm him down. Every time Steve would laugh at another alpha’s joke or talk a little too cheerfully to another omega, the senator’s scent would turn sour and bitter. And Steve would have to start the soothing process all over again.

It was starting to get annoying and Steve was seriously thinking of putting the alpha on his black list for it. The fact that Steve came back should have been all the assurance the alpha needed that whoever had got Steve hot under the collar that they weren’t enough to keep his interest. But no. Steve was beginning to suspect that he was just a bitter old man.

Steve was given a moment’s reprieve when the senator was pulled aside by another senator that wanted to talk about co-sponsoring a bill on the Hill.

“God,” the omega woman Steve was talking to said. “I couldn’t imagine doing what you do. The heavy duty scent blockers, the spending your heats alone, the birth control. God the birth control alone must cost a fortune.”

Steve gave an awkward laugh. “Um, no. Omegas at Starcourt are infertile. They have to be, not just for the protection of the omega but for the alpha clients, too. Can’t have an escort blackmailing important alphas that their pup might be theirs.”

The woman pouted. “That’s so sad. Have you thought about adopting?”

Steve’s smile stayed on his face, but inside he died just a little. “I’d have to find an alpha willing to bond me first.” He said it teasingly, but he knew it was hopeless.

“A pretty thing like you?” the woman cooed. “The right alpha willing be baying for the chance to sweep you off your feet. Just give it a couple of years. You’re still in your prime. Enjoy it!”

Steve’s smile slid into something more real. He was grateful that she didn’t pity him and told him he still had time. Because she was right it. He did have time. There was no need to rush off and get bonded. He had the glittering lights, the fancy clothes, and rich food to enjoy while he was still young.

Too soon the senator had returned and pulled him away from the omega. Steve waved at her and smiled. He would later learn that she was Representative Jim Hopper’s second omega, Joyce Byers. Jonathan’s mom.

That made the encounter all the more wholesome.

****

As Steve was pulled away he didn’t notice Eddie behind him frowning.

“Hey, Gareth,” Eddie said. “You got to talk with the senator’s date, right?”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “Yes, I got to talk to your crush.”

Eddie flapped his hands at him. “Shush. But how would you describe his scent?”

Gareth frowned. “I don’t know. Spicy I guess. Like Mexican hot chocolate. Why?”

“You brought an escort to the Grammy’s last year,” Eddie continued, never taking his eyes off Steve. “How would you have described her scent?”

Gareth’s frown deepened between his brows as he fought to remember. “Fruity, I guess. Sweet. Almost too sweet.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Gareth pressed.

Eddie just pressed his lips together.

“You know,” Gareth said into the resulting silence. “I would say his scent complements yours.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest and looked down. He could only agree.

Something didn’t feel right and he was determined to find out what it was about Steve Harrington that got under his skin the way it did.

****

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @lexirosewrites @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @yikes-a-bee @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @demolvr @y4r3luv @slowandsteddie @r0binscript

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #omegaverse #alpha eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #omega steve harrington

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taylorswiftstyle · 1 year ago

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2024 Golden Globe Awards | Los Angeles, CA | January 7, 2024

De Beers 'Five Line Diamond Band' - $15,900.00 De Beers 'Pear Shaped Diamond Ring' - $8,950.00 (starting) De Beers 'Darling Eternity Band' - $5,000.00 De Beers 'Dewdrop Pavé Ring' - $3,800.00

Normally Taylor would opt for a mix of jewelers (her typical go-tos are Lorraine Schwartz, Cathy Waterman, and a few others). But tonight she went full in on De Beers for all of her jewels.

In my opinion, going with one jeweler and one metal tone let the dress and all its gree(EEEEEEEEEE)n sequined glory stand on its own. The mix of slightly modern pieces here (esp those statement earrings) with timeless ones like a pear shaped solitaire and an eternity band was the right call of clean luxe.

Photos by Monica Schipper/GA and Amy Sussman via Getty Images

#taylor swift #award #jewelry #de beers #january 2024

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puffin-smoke · 6 days ago

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parting is such sweet sorrow

Summary: You are the Queen of Hearts' royal executioner. Your blade is hers to command. It always has been. But something inside you breaks today. Something inside of you yearns for more. More than her weapon.

Warnings: Descriptions of and references to beheadings. The reader is executed at the end. Descriptions of starvation. Lovers to enemies.

A/N: Sooo, when Rise of Red first came out, I had all these plans to write a bunch of x reader fics for it. I wrote two of them, promptly lost steam on the third and forgot about them. Until now. So here’s a Queen of Hearts x Reader fic! Will just be a one off, I’m not planning on writing anything else for the movie, but just kind of wanted to get this out there anyway!

You’d been summoned once again to the courtyard. The weather was humid and sultry, almost choking. But it was like this everyday, so you didn’t notice. Your eyes had adjusted to the perpetual darkness of Wonderland long ago, your skin acclimatising to the stuffy atmosphere far before that. Because what else would you do? What else could you do? This was your life, and you had to live it.

So you took your post at the centre of the courtyard, just outside the palace, as you had a dozen times before. You were statuesque, a permanent fixture, bound to this place by blood and duty and something you couldn’t name. You would take your spot here as you had a dozen times before, fulfil your purpose as you had a dozen times before and let it fester in your mind like an open wound. As you had a dozen times before. Your face gave away nothing, even as the eyes of your subordinates bore into you.

Hearts surrounded you, carved from rose bushes, not a thorn out of place. If you got close enough, you never did, the surface would appear flat, the flowers painted on. But they were real. Their sickly cloying scent filled your lungs like smoke and their withered petals lined the ground, as real as the uniform you wore.

You let your mind wander to that uniform, instead of allowing it to ponder and regret. It differed from most of the Queen’s staff, even that of a high ranking soldier such as Jack of Diamonds. His, and the rest of theirs, armour had a silver trim. It bordered each metal plate, a stark contrast to the glinting crimson. All ordered in a row, the soldiers looked like toys, identical and nameless, blank faces created by duty just as yours was. Your uniform, for you never had much need for armour, had a gold lining. Stiff fabric sewn with gold thread, glittering in the dying light. Each button on your jacket had jewels inset, alternating between an onyx darker than night itself and a ruby that shimmered a colour you knew too well. You wore not a helmet but a circlet; a gold band set across your brow, engravings of thorns sharp against its lustre.

The Queen’s prized mule. Her favourite pet. You heard your fellow soldiers give you that name, cursing it over meagre drink when they swore you couldn’t hear. You wondered if they resented you for it, your station far above theirs. But there was little point in wonder. They still worked alongside you, obeyed your orders, regarded you with respect. Even as you dealt out, what you hoped to be, justice to those they knew. Guard’s they’d known, befriended.

Your blade was true, no matter who’s neck it fell upon. Maybe they appreciated it, to have the last thing they ever see be something beautiful. To focus on your steel-toed boots instead of the axe against their skin. Few would get that privilege, even in a kingdom like this. Most died in filth and died starving. Staring at mould-infested walls, a pit so deep in their stomach it must have been there since birth, letting dreams of a better life carry them off peacefully. You mused over what your end may be like. In battle or in bed? Content or forever longing for something better? What would that be?

That was where your fantasies always ended, right as that question arose. Because you had your answer. You knew what that would be, and why it would never come to pass. Dreaming was for the desperate, and you had resigned yourself long ago. You didn’t deserve desperation.

Some traitorous part of you questioned that in every way possible. That part of you let your focus slip to memories you’d tried to forget. A smile. Your fingers running through delicate pink curls. An oath to protect her. That promise led you here, so surely it couldn’t be for nothing?

When you ignored the question, that piece of you resorted to slier tactics, as it always did. You’d done this dance a dozen times before, questions and answers, wishes and reality, where the two met. You didn’t deserve desperation, to long and to hope, so why did they? Why must they die with their heart in their hands, by your blade or by hunger’s? Their lives barely lived, teeming with potential? And even if they were not, if they had no goals or ambitions, not a diamond in the rough but were simply another stone? Why must it be a crime to be mundane?

That you had no answer to. And it was not your place to answer, you told yourself.

Footsteps echoed through the near silent courtyard. They were irregular, like a drum out of beat. Like a musician forced to play a dozen times until their wrists are sore and their ears are deaf. You’d been here before, heard those same footsteps. Their feet dragged against the ground today, but some days it was different. Some would march, some would sprint. Some would have to be carried.

You watched a guard and a figure approach from a distance. The guard held their shoulders, gloved hands tight as iron, unyielding even as they struggled against him. Their wrists were bound by steel cuffs. People watched from their houses, through windows, stood in doorways, as they were hauled through the streets. Some shook their heads; for this had always been coming and they’d been foolish to not see it; and others cried; for this had always been coming and they’d been foolish for praying for more. Faces were neutral, tired, angry and afraid. All eventually looked to you. You were what was coming.

The prisoner approached, their head bowed in shame. It was a type of strength, you felt, to let the world see nothing as you went to your death. A power to project whatever air you pleased and hide what was truly underneath. Preserve your dignity, hide that weakness forced upon you. Die and let them wonder what you felt.

Keep your name on their tongues, lest you die forgotten.

Their breathing was shallow as they were walked up to the centre, next to where you stood. Hair swept over their face like a curtain, obscuring their features from you. The guard unsheathed their sword, the sound shrill and jagged against your ears. Unhesitating, he slammed the hilt into the back of their knee.

The criminal fell to their knees with a restrained cry. Their voice was phlegmy and hoarse, but it was also quite young. Very young. Their breaths were long and shallow, as though they couldn’t get quite enough air to their lungs. Drops of water fell on the ground beneath them. Tears. A small part of you was screaming.

The soldier grabbed their hair by the fistful and pulled them upwards. They gave another strangled cry, a sob, as the grip on his hair tightened. Their face was revealed, bore plain to a world that didn’t deserve to see it.

This was a child. No older than thirteen.

You wanted to puke. Bile rose in your throat, the vile taste forcing the world off kilter as your vision swam.

A child. Never before had you been sent a child. Sometimes traitors, sometimes criminals, sometimes examples to be made, but never a child. Their heads hit the ground all the same, rich or poor, young or old, deserving or innocent. Sometimes they struggle, sometimes they beg, sometimes they curse you. Sometimes it would take more than one swing to sever the neck and you’d be left hacked and sawing at bone, splintered like wood, pale shards scattered beneath you like broken ceramic. They would choke on their own blood, a pathetic sound. Saliva was replaced with gore, words were reduced to animal retching, and you polished your blade clean, awaiting the next one.

Each time the sound fell on deaf ears, muffled by your own willing ignorance. Each time you justified it, made excuses and rationalisations, and for what? For someone who was as dead as the corpse at your feet, as the graveyards you filled. Whose skull was rotting just as theirs were, eyes vacant and maggot-filled and cold.

No longer.

No more.

The child’s breaths were shallow and fast, gasping, restrained yet desperate as though trying to calm their rightfully racing heart. It didn’t work. More tears stained the ground.

The axe in your hand was a comforting weight, morbidly. It was steady, assured, the one constant in your life. It was beautiful, just as your uniform was. The handle was ornately carved, a dark mahogany coerced expertly into the form of a bone. The blade was wide and curved, the edge sharpened over the years into an exact point. Within the cheek of your steel was a ruby, shaped like a perfect heart.

She’d given it to you. She’d thought it funny, the weapon’s design; each part of an axe was named after a human body part, so why not take that further?

Funny.

You abandoned your post. A gasp rippled through the gathered crowd, echoed in the restrained shock of each soldier’s eyes. Jack of Diamonds watched you leave and enter the castle through a near invisible doorway a short walk away. You were a fool, he thought. But it was not his job to tell you that, to chastise you, to explain the magnitude of your absence.

Because you already knew it. So he remained at his station, blank eyes watching you go.

You entered into an area reserved for the guards, but had been left unused for a long while, a thin layer of dust covered everything. Formerly overflowing chests were now populated by only cobwebs and silence. Each chest bookmarked a row of benches that lacked the grandeur of the rest of the palace, beauty replaced with ruthless practicality. This room was once populated by freshly trained soldiers, a space filled with good-natured taunts, rallying cries, shared secrets, and anything in between. The discordant choir of a new beginning.

Only silence was left. The crack of your boots upon the wooden floors rang painfully in your ears, akin to distilled lightning.

You’d been among those soldiers. You’d traded banter as easily as breathing, a smile permanently gracing your features as though carved in stone. It had always been a dream of yours, to serve a cause greater than you. And you’d thought this was it.

It had been an uncharacteristically brisk day when you’d been given that fateful assignment, the biting air unfamiliar to you. Your Captain had called you into a one and one meeting, her voice deadly serious and perfectly level.

You were to become the Princess’ bodyguard. You would accompany her from place to place and protect her with your life. She’d placed special emphasis on that last word, and made you swear to it. To jump in front of any arrows that may come her way. To risk life and limb in the pursuit of keeping her safe. To kill and maim and fight no matter the costs.

Of course you’d agreed, you’d sworn it, hand on your heart. Only then were you allowed to meet Bridget.

She’d been amazing. Nearly shook your hand off. Thanked you a dozen times for simply doing your job and meant it every damn time. You were attached at the hip, following her wherever she went. You watched her bake every morning, marvelling at the way she moved through her kitchen. She would know it in darkness. Occasionally she’d surprise you with treats of your own; flakey pastries, skillfully iced cupcakes, biscuits decorated to look like playing cards. You’d try to refuse everytime, it wasn’t your place to accept gifts from a literal royal, but every time she’d insist. She showed you parts of the castle you’d never dreamt of seeing. Private galleries, a lunarium, a balcony that had a view of the whole kingdom.

She’d kissed you on that balcony. Sworn to protect you as much as you did her.

You’d kissed her back.

When did everything go so wrong?

Suddenly exhausted, you collapsed onto a bench. It groaned dejectly under your weight, but you could not find it within yourself to stand. You buried your head in your hand, wishing only to lose yourself in the darkness. Your head had begun to throb. Your axe was laid beside you.

That was when the door opened.

You didn’t look up, you couldn’t bring yourself to. Heels cracked against the ground like whips, the noise further encouraging the way your mind panged with a barely muffled agony. Fabric rustled before you, and a silence returned to the chamber as though it had never left. It wrapped around you like a thick blanket, a warm hug. For a moment you could breathe.

“I was waiting for you. Outside.” Bridget’s voice tore the fabric to shreds, leaving you exposed to the cold. Her tone was expectant, waiting, not a statement but a question. When you don’t look up, your limbs feel leaden, her voice turns impatient, an order given to an unruly child. “Look at me when I talk to you.”

You obeyed, ever the good soldier. You raise your head, and meet her eyes. They are steel. They pierce and slice at your resolve, but you cannot find it within yourself to hurt. Your eyebags are more prominent now, the wrinkles in your forehead landmarks on your skin. She noticed these parts of you now, unhidden and unrestrained, bore plain for the world to see. You looked old. Far older than you should.

She was wholly out of place in the guard’s chambers. She’s dressed for court; her hair is needle straight, her blood red crown jutting out like a freshly cut jewel, her dress is elaborately layered, looking akin to fallen rose petals draped around her. She looked beautiful. Stunning in the way the sun was, impossible to look at for more than a few seconds.

You couldn’t stand her for even that long. There were so many memories behind those eyes, just out of reach. You could almost see it, the way they used to light up, sparkle. Muted sparks danced behind her eyes, never catching, and inevitably fading out. It’s sad. She looks sad. Confused.

“What are you doing in here?” Metal could bend, break. Her voice was brittle now.

“I can’t do it.” It’s a plea. To not push this.

She feigned confusion, it had to be fake, you decided. “Why? Are you feeling alright?”

Hurrying over to you, she examined your face, getting too close for your liking. She cupped your cheek in your hand, her touch firm and commanding yet deliciously cold against the perpetual humidity. Her eyes were soft in that moment, the sparks for a moment a hearth.. Despite it all, despite the urge to sink into her touch and let the world drift away, you recoiled and pushed the hand down.

More sparks were quelled, smothered, squashed like a bug. That hardness in her eyes returned. Her hand tensed and fell to her lap, nestled in her skirts.

You spoke before she could, barely able to get the words out. “I can’t- that’s- that’s a child.”

There was a softness to her eyes, but only just. They were not filled by kindness but pity, as though comforting a child who scraped their knee. A child would not know better, so would blame the world’s cruelty for their suffering and subsequently rage against it. An adult was supposed to accept that cruelty as inescapable fact; something to be accepted, not questioned. That would only lead to disappointment, and there was no time for that. “Is that all?”

Anger flared up within you, the way she stared you down making your gut curdle. You were no child. You knew of the world’s ceaseless brutality; you had known all your life. But you would no longer be a proponent of that suffering. You sank further into your seat, the meaning of that promise sinking into your veins. “A child. You can’t expect me to do this.”

Her lip curled at that, pity morphing into disgust. She practically spat as she reprimanded you, hand curling into a point aimed straight at your heart. Her fingernails were long and sharp, akin to the claws of an animal that had just finished hunting, painted the deep red of the innards you had become so familiar with. She hissed at you.

“I am your Queen. You forget yourself.”

At that you stood, drawing yourself up, a feeble attempt to seem more powerful than you felt. You remembered. You always remembered. You knew your station and your place, and you knew how far she was above it. You would have never dared to forge a connection with a royal, not on your own. She had been the first to extend a hand, to make that step. You had never wanted this; the luxury, the power she had. But she had wanted that for you, so you accepted it with grace.

“Do I?” You asked in full earnest. You wanted her to tell you what you were, what this was. What you were to each other. You were giving her the opportunity to sever whatever connection you had deluded yourself into thinking was there, to dismiss you from your eternal post by her side. “Remind me, I beg of you.”

No matter how much you may plead and beg internally, she does not. She takes one ever so dainty step backwards, her heels momentarily clicking tunically upon the hardwood floors. In that moment you were hyper aware of how close you had been, the hairsbreadth between your faces. She was beautiful. So beautiful.

The moment settles, and her beauty is only slightly marred. The thin line her lips were set in ebbed; they parted for the briefest of seconds, a short breath, a faint mark of humanity. It was the closest you would get to a gasp. If one were to look closely; truly closely, to examine her in the finest of detail, to pour over every line and brushstroke that ultimately created the textbook portrait of a queen; they would see her lower lip quiver. And you did and you had; you would know her face in darkness, blind even.

That momentary slip was quickly hidden, masked behind a thin but decidedly real mask of exasperation. She sighed, clenching and unclenching her hands, her nails scraping against each other like a blade upon a whetstone. This was not her conceding a point to you, this was strategy. She was a politician; she knew the routes to people’s hearts, she had studied each map since birth. You were a valuable asset, you told yourself, something not to lose. You hoped that was not all, not the only reason to keep you around. If all you were was a blade, then a guillotine could stand in your place just as easily.

“You are dismissed from your post for the day.” It was a kindness, as close as you would get. You would savour the taste of her mercy, how rare a delicacy it was. The pangs of nostalgia on your tongue. “I will find a more fitting punishment for the girl.”

The dungeons. For the rest of her days. Four concrete walls, a sliver of light tantalisingly close, just beyond a miniscule window. A bed either covered in mildew and rot, or a concrete slab. That was a kindness. That was a meal, everyday, with no risk to life or limb involved. A roof over her head, a place to stay each night. It was better than most had.

That was supposed to end the conversation, to close that book you had forced open and slot it neatly back onto the bookshelf. You could just leave it at that. You could leave things as they were; you clinging to the glimpses of Bridget offered you, the meagre scraps to which you offered unwavering loyalty to in return. It was that or nothing.

Maybe you preferred nothing. To this festering wound.

Tone hurried in a way entirely unbefitting of a Queen, she brushed dust from her skirts. It had only taken a few moments for it to form such a thin layer upon her. You were utterly caked in it by now, not just from this but all the other times you had fled to this sanctum of memory. Only now your shoes were absent of blood. And she had chosen to follow you. “I shall see you in court tomorrow.”

“No.” The word fell from your lips as easily as water from a spring. It was not the act of defiance a dictionary may prescribe it to be, it was a simple acknowledgement.

She flinched as though you had struck her. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go, they had never taken this turn before. Politics were simple, and this was politics. Placate your opposition, give them what they want but ensure it's on your terms. She had done that, but you wanted more. “No?”

She repeated the word back to you as though confused by it, testing the way it sounded in her mouth. Her eyebrows furrowed deeply, clearly unused to the bitter taste.

“I can’t do this.” You said, an echo of your earlier plea. But this was more sure, more certain of its intentions. End this, not simply get through it.

“I’ve already relieved you of your duty. You don’t have to punish the girl.” For the first time she tripped over her words, as though rushing to get them out, as though you were running out of time to hear them.

You almost sighed. “You know that's not what this is about. I can’t do this anymore.”

You gestured pointedly to everything around you. To the oppressive air, to the dust that coated the abandoned benches, to the dust that coated you. To every part of you that had fallen into disrepair in the pursuit of her mission. Control, power, a perfect kingdom through the means of a dictatorship. You looked old, older than you were. You felt old. A relic of a happier past.

“You’ve been doing this for years.” She said bluntly, as though it were that simple. It was routine, and routine was a comfort, so why lose it? Your everyday was assured, so why compromise that security?

The monotony had drilled itself into your skull, had tattooed itself onto your eyelids. You blink and you see them. The bloodied corpses at your feet, the entrails spooled around their necks like crimson scarfs. The faces of mourners, their weeping eyes. The way their faces scrunched up, wrinkled in every way imaginable, until they looked less human and more akin to chewed gum. The way they heaved as they fought for breath, the way their whole bodies crumpled under the weight of an impossible loss.

“And how many more? When will this be enough?” You blinked and saw your boots, the finest leather Wonderland had to offer, drenched in blood. You watched yourself wipe away the stains a dozen times over, and yet a shadow always remained. And you could never quite get the smell out.

She almost snarled at you, her words sharpened as they squeezed through gritted teeth. “When they learn to obey.”

A laugh tore from your throat, hoarse, as rough as sandpaper. It hurt, almost burnt, like swallowing hellfire. “Obey? Obey?! Bridget, they’re terrified of you. All they do is obey.”

She nearly sneered, her hands clenching, nails sliding over each other as though sharpening blades. But there was something in her voice. This was a plea. The routine she offered in place of persuasion, of comfort, was something that she craved. That she held dear. So it had been her first resort in an effort to keep you by her side. “Watch your tone.”

That routine felt like a death sentence to you now. Reminder after reminder of all that you had done, all that you had become, over and over again. You had not questioned each order, each criminal, every sacrifice at the altar of her empire. The routine was a failure. It was everything you had failed to notice. Every time you had been complacent in her tyranny, justified by the same lie that pacified your weak-willed mind.

That it was for her. That one day this would be enough, and you could lay down your blade and stand by her side on that balcony once again.

But you knew that could never happen. Not while her empire stood. Her duty.

You took a step towards her. It was sloppy, clumsy, you moved with a drunken stupor. The weight of every expectation, every obligation, every inevitability about your life was shed. You walked free of those chains, and every movement felt alien, like taking your first steps all over again.

She lifted her gaze to meet yours. You had always slouched before, a permanent bow was the only thing befitting of your queen, but standing straight as you were now, you were taller than her. It should have been intimidating, but she met your gaze with the same determination.

“No. No. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t just kill random people, I can’t- I can’t be your guard dog anymore.”

She cocked her head, her voice breathless. “My guard dog?”

You laughed. For the first time in years, you laughed. Your laugh was a broken and small thing, but it was there. Alive. “Is that not what you’d call it? Call this? I am a face in your battalion, nothing more.”

At that she reached for you. Her body visibly tightened, tensed, the movement clearly based on gut instinct alone. No politics, no games. She reached for you and placed a hand to your chest, and another to your cheek. Steadying. Gentle. There was a softness in her eyes as a finger ran itself through your hair.

“You know that’s not true.” Her voice was barely a whisper. As though afraid to say it aloud. As though ashamed.

You pushed her hand down. The one on your chest remained, stroking the buttons upon your uniform. “Do I?”

There was something broken in the way she looked at you. “You’re my heart. I don’t know what more I can do to show you that.” She gestured to the uniform you wore. The axe discarded a few feet away. This was her love. Quiet yet grand.

She loved you.

You wanted to love her again. So badly it hurt.

But not while her empire stood.

“You can come with me.” You took her hand, still against your chest, and clasped it in yours.

Her face fell. The gentleness was replaced with a panic, a desperation in her features. Her mouth fell open ever so slightly. The facade was crumbling. This was the closest you had been to seeing Bridget in years. Uncensored, uncompromising. Just on the horizon. “What?”

Your grip tightened. You could feel her nails digging into your skin, going deep enough to draw blood but you didn’t care. You needed this to work. You couldn’t love the Queen. You couldn’t love the woman that Bridget had become, but you could find the girl behind the layers and layers of cruelty and hurt and cold. You could peel all that back. You could bring her back. She didn’t have to be dead and buried.

“Come with me. We can- we can leave.” You tried to ignore the growing panic in her eyes, the way her lower lip quivered. It was humanity. It was the girl you loved. This was going to work. “Your council can run things, they’ll do fine, and we- we can just go. Wherever you want.”

“Please.” She swallowed. Closed her eyes for a passing moment. Opened them, and the steeliness returned. The edge. All that made her a perfect Queen. “I will not abandon my post.”

“Bridget-” You knew it was a losing battle. You always knew that. You knew staying by her side was signing your life away. You knew fighting for her affection was akin to sisyphus’ endless task. You would never win.

“Don’t make me do this.” She cut you off before you could convince her. Before you could change her mind, sway her from her goal. You could do it, if given the time. She wouldn’t let you.

At that you laughed. And fell back into your seat, dust rolling away from you in waves. You looked up at her and the room she never seemed quite right in and the sunlight streaming in through the window and sighed. “Oh, you forget yourself. You’re my Queen. I can’t make you do anything.”

You would rot for this. No more beautiful clothes and palaces. No more rose bushes or expertly made weapons. No more anything. Just a small box with no windows. You could handle that. It was eternity. It was a routine, but a new one. It was worse yet better than what you had. You wondered if Bridget would visit you.

As you pondered your fate, you nearly didn’t notice the guards assemble around you. Barely felt one, someone you knew but barely spoke to, hoist you to your feet only to force you back onto your knees, throwing you around like a useless piece of meat. You only chose to pay attention when Bridget started speaking. When she said your name. How long had it been since she had uttered it? It had only ever been Soldier or Captain. The gold of your uniform, the circlet resting on your forehead, the axe in your hand. Your purpose.

“... for your offences, I charge you with high treason. You are a traitor to your realm and to your Queen.” She recited your charges, staring through you, not daring to meet your eyes.

“I understand.”

Her voice echoed through the room, as though addressing a crowd. As though announcing this to the world. Trying to prove how she wasn’t weak. The Queen of Hearts was a worthy ruler, one not to be trifled with. By anyone. You were proof of her weakness.

“For these crimes, you are sentenced to death.”

What?

She turned her head towards the guard closest to you, the one who had shoved you to the ground. Her voice was perfectly even as she spoke.

“Off with their head.”

It had none of its usual bravado. It was an order and nothing more.

You were going to die.

“Bridget, wait, you-”

The soldier put a foot to your back and forced you to your hands and knees, nose ever so slightly grazing the wooden floors. You were frozen in shock until you felt it. A blade against your neck. Cold and sharp.

You looked up to see Bridget, looking down at you. Wonderland’s Queen. Dressed in rose petals, donning her crown. You could see a glimmer of Bridget in that moment. A tear running down her cheek, sparkling like condensed sunlight. The girl you had loved, saying goodbye.

At least you were allowed to see something beautiful before the world cut to black.

#rise of red #descendants rise of red #disney descendants #rise of red x reader #rise of red fanfiction #descendants x reader #bridget x reader #the queen of hearts x reader #queen of hearts x reader #x reader #anyway I love her but she doesn't. love me.#also I have an Elliott fic in the works? It's gonna be cute probably

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mncxbe · 1 year ago

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Hii i have a request: aku dating s/o who's atsushi's sister (he's unaware of it) and then someday he sees both together and is like "the fuck are you doing with him??" and reader is like "he's my brother, honey 😃" and atsushi's like ">>HE<< IS YOUR BOYFRIEND???" anyways, chaos

Oh damn this would indeed be chaos. A little bit of context: the reader works at an antique store so she's not really involved with the Pm or the Ada. Anyway hope you enjoy♡

°☆○

Blood bonds

𝑨𝒌��𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: slice of life/ silly◇

The musty, old room scent of the anitque store; tiny flakes of dust illuminated by the brilliant evening light and the endless piles of books that formed a maze inside the crammed shop were all too familiar to him. It was the nth time this month when Akutagawa came to pick you up after work, a cup of your favourite coffee in his hand.

He made his way through the bookshelves and stacks of paperbacks and leather bound tomes to the back of the shop where the cash register was and just as he took the last turn, he saw you; leaning over the wooden desk and talking with... Atsushi?

Your silvery hair caught the late autumn light, gleaming like a jewel as you tucked a stary strand behind your ear. Completely absorbed in conversation with the young man, you didn't even notice your boyfriend until he spoke up.

"Hi Y/N sorry I'm late I stopped to get you a coffee."

Your head suddenly snapped in his direction, a warm smile creeping on your lips.

"Hi there Ryu. How was your day?" you asked as you tip toed around the counter to embrace him; but before you had the chance Atsushi spoke.

"What are you doing here Akutagawa?"

The stern tone of his voice was the last drop. How dared he ask such a question? Akutagawa's brows frowned as his lips pressed into a tight line.

"What the hell are you doing here, weretiger?"

"Wait, you know each other?" you chimed in, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I shouldn't bother with the introductions then"

"What introductions are you talking about? How do you know him?" asked Akutagawa as his nails dug deeper into the calloused skin of his palm.

"Oh love Sushi is my brother"

Akutagawa's heart sank; he felt as if he were underwater, your words a jumble of muffled sounds. For a moment he stood there between you and Atsushi, completely disarmed, his gaze moving from one to another.

And then it finally clicked. The resemblace between the two of you was undeniable. You had the same eyes: your irises a hue of violet and yellow, spotted with little flakes of gold around the pupil; and almost the same lean built except you were a few centimeters shorter than him. If you weren't wearing that sharp black eyeliner, your face would be an identical replica of his.

"I- uh..." he stammered, eyes darting from one to another. "I didn't know that."

Regardless of how shocking this new discovery was he was happy that there was nothing more going on between the two of you. His tense shoulders slightly slouched, a smile creeping on his lips.

"Well love that's quite a strange coincidence." he added in a more relaxed tone.

"Love? What do you mean by love? Nee chan are you... wait are you dating him?" screamed Atsushi.

His eyes bore a shadow of betrayal as he held your gaze. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think it was important for you to know who I'm seeing." you said nonchalantly, taking a sip from your coffee.

"Like hell of course it matters. Do you even know what he's done? Who he is? You should've-"

"I should've what, Atsushi? Gave you a phone call whenever I sleep with someone? I'm old enough to take care of myself and I don't know what the two of you have to share but please, try to get along for my sake ok? At least while we're together."

The two men blushed furiously at your words: Akutagawa was shocked by the sudden mention of your love life while Atsushi was simply embarassed.

With his gaze held down he uttered an apology.

"Sorry I just... want you to be safe"

"Trust me weretiger, that's my number one priority too" added Akutagawa as he gently slid a hand around your waist to pull you closer.

The warm smile that rose to your lips when your boyfriend embraced you was enough for Atsushi to drop the matter.

"Okay then" you said in a cheerful voice. "How about we all dine somewhere? I just need a minute to close the shop. Be right back"

With that you made your way to the backroom where you kept your keys and jacket, leaving the two men behind. Both of them were equally reluctant to accept your invitation but what could they say? If it made you happy they could pretend to get along for a night.

"Hey Akutagawa. Take care of her okay?" stated the silver haired man with a concerned look on his face.

Akutagawa only nodded. "Of course I will. I wouldn't do anything to harm her."

A smile made its way to Atsushi's lips. "I really didn't take you for a romantic, Akuatagwa"

A wave of anger took over the raven haired man upon hearing his rival's remark but before he could say anything back you emerged from the room.

"Ready to go?"

You approached your boyfriend and leaned in to place a tender kiss to his lips.

"We'll go to that place you like Ryu. Remember? We went there on our first date."

"Of course love." he chuckled, barely able to hide the blush that tinted his pale face.

Before the three of you walked out of the shop and into the busy street, Akutagawa turned to Atsushi and spoke in a hushed voice.

"Don't you dare say a word about this to anyone weretiger. Or I'll hunt you down"

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #akutagawa fluff #akutagawa x you #silly #atsushi nakajima #bsd atsushi #bungou stray dogs atsushi

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darkdemeter · 1 month ago

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Fem Child Reader Fluff! After Mammon’s fight, S/O sneaks to grab the golden toy horse for Strife. She wonders what to do for War and gets a small bag of gems and gold. She tries giving the items to the Horsemen. Strife is ecstatic and War refuses. S/O talks to Vulgrim what to give to War as a gift and he suggests giving the bag to him in exchange for a free upgrade to War’s powers. While sweet S/O is asleep, Strife and War go to upgrade their gear and War’s surprised by the free upgrade.

GUIDE HER WAY HOME SIDE ADVENTURE: GOLDEN TREASURES (platonic) War and Strife x Female Child Reader ・1.7k words ・

You have never seen so much sparkles in your life before. Mammon’s hoard of golds and treasures beyond any imagination encapsulated you with wonder. The coins your small hands would brush against slip and rattle with a gilded crinkle that rattled like those snakes with the shakies on their tail ends.

A platter was so shiny and clear you could make out your reflection and whilst your noble guardians talk with one another regarding what to do with the hoard, you giggle at the bulbous form in which your reflection took. Your eyes were boggly and your head warped this way and that, poking your tongue out you blow a teasing raspberry.

“Tch, leave it,” War says as he strolls past you, his steps formed strong and resistant against the treasures that try to draw his attention. He was above it. No price or weight of gold could betray his honour. Your gaze lingers on him for a moment. Strife kneels down not to far from you, his hands grasp at the gold, nursing the shiny baubles in his palms.

“Samael knows about this place now,” he says, “there’s probably enough here to rebuild his army ten times over. We’re good with that?”

By the way War’s gaze sears a penetrative lock onto Strife and his incessant probing and questioning, he tsks under his breath again and Strife relents. You watch, padding along behind them to hurry after them. War did not want the gold? But… couldn’t they use the glittery coins to buy things from Vulgrim? Strife stands up with an almost airy weightlessness to his motion, yet powerful all the same.

“Okay, fine. Let’s go. But I’m taking this souvenir.”

The horse souvenir that Strife had eyed the moment he caught it when Mammon was flinging treasures at them, attempting to buy his life with the trinkets, is proudly displayed in his hand before War’s hand jerks up. He knocks it from Strife’s hand and your eyes grow wide, watching the way it flies into the air only to fall with a harsh clatter into a pile of coins.

Now that was just mean! You pout and immediately rush towards the horse, your hands fiddling over it in your own study. It looked like a toy. Strife must really like it and so, as their shadows wander through the opened doorway, silhouette in a blackness orbited by an imposing red of the light, you take hold of the golden horse.

You won’t let the Horsemen leave empty handed. And so you quickly locate a sack and begin to use your arms to sweep as many coins and gems into the bag until it is so full you heaved and grunted as you pushed it up, tying the strings tightly so not a single jewel or gold piece fell out.

“Little one,” War’s voice booms loudly and you jump, flinching as though you were caught sneaking out of your cot past your bedtime. You spin to face the Horsemen who stare down at you, their forms a powerful presence and tall. “What are you doing? We don’t need the gold.”

You begin to babble your reasoning as you point at the sack, patting your hand on it. “You don’t?”

War shake’s his head. “Or that.” War’s single, large finger points at the golden horse tucked under your arm only barely. You shift uneasily on your own two feet from trying to support it. “But uh… mmm…” An embarrassed heat floods your cheeks and you use both arms to hold up the toy, a noise hitched in your throat like an eager giggle. Bouncing on the toed boots of your feet, you hold up the toy for Strife.

“Strwife wants it!”

Strife’s gaze softens visibly through his helm. “Aww!” Strife accepted the horse from you with a bow of his head in thanks much to the disdain of War’s pressing glare. Strife, now hyper fixated on his precious toy, War has to be the voice of reason.

Your name falls from his lips with a sigh and you fear you’ve upset him terribly this time. War is now at your level, the bulk of his body compressed in around himself. He peeks at you through the shadow of his hood. Your tiny lips form into a pout and your eyes threaten to well with tears. “It is kind of you, but we have no need for this… any of this. It is… materialistic.”

“Huh?” Your head curiously tilts to its side axis. “Mat… matweelistwic?”

War’s ashen brow eases at the adorable tone of your attempt to say that word. Of course you didn’t know how to articulate such a word, nor understand its deeper meaning. He offered you a faint twitch of his mouth, a small and warm smile and he nodded.

“It is… complicated to explain. But what I mean to say is that…” Hm, how could he put it so simply in the form a child could understand?

As much as Strife adored to have his precious golden horse toy, his brother needed a little help. Strife kneels before you as well, coming to your level.

His taloned thumb caressed the apple of your cheek and just below your eye, rubbing away a smudge of grime. “What he’s trying to say is that… have you ever wanted something, maybe a toy just like this one, but your mother and father said you couldn’t have it because you did not need it?”

You slowly nod your head, trying so hard to understand the lesson being taught. “And so, if you were given that toy regardless of not needing it, that is materialism. Needless items in your possession. Toys and objects without meaning… purpose.”

“I… I think I understwand.” War gives a stern nod of his head with a huff. They got that matter cleared up. His armour shifted and clattered as he stood up, the leathers twisting with coiled winding from the press and release of weight around them. “Now, come along now.”

“But… can we keep the toy and trweasures? Please?”

War and Strife both continue to stare down at you. You were adamant. War doesn’t answer your question exactly, merely sighing again and turning away to walk out of the hoard room. With a scoff and roll of his eyes, Strife turns to you and with a simple gesture, encourages you to leap into his arm. You clutch hold of him and crawl up, snuggled there and your hands grip hold of his scarf as he then slings your collected treasures.

“Thank you for the horse toy. I really appreciate it,” Strife says as he walks out with you. That sentiment alone is enough to have you beaming and shyly twisting your head away from him, hiding your face in the bundle of his scarf, causing the rider to chuckle.

The Horsemen return to Samael to report their work to him and in that window of time, you decide that a certain warrior needs upgrades. “Vulgim? Vulgim,” you call out to him. The familiar jingle of chains rattling together in dark symphonies and the fluttering rustle of fabric.

The smoke beneath him puffed out with a majestic cloud.

“Childling,” Vulgrim greets with a coiled, intrigued sneer. His voice tried to match that same pitch as yours and it makes you grin, giggling. “I want to buy something for Wawr but… he don’t want anything. What can I get him?”

Vulgrim had already laid his eyes on the mysterious sack which laid off the side, its shape plumply round and he couldn’t deny the chinking of gold and jewels he heard from it when Strife carried it in. But he feigned to contemplate what you could buy for the red rider, tapping his taloned claws to the horn of his chin for a moment before slyly alluding to, “Well… I could take that gold off your hands and in turn, I could grant War some special upgrades the next time he sees me.”

“Okey!” You agree suddenly and quickly with a nod. Vulgrim is almost astounded by your eagerness to accept. You must really want War to have some upgrades.

Dis kept you safe and comfortable in a makeshift nest of sorts, a bundle of blankets and fabrics that swaddled you, formed into a cushioned spot for you to sleep. Meanwhile he added the odd mixture into her bubbling cauldron. Your softly laced coos an ambience that both riders are inclined to hear constantly, for losing that sound for even a second will set them off into a panic.

“And here we are, Horsemen. Your upgrades,” Vulgrim says, tossing down the metal, diamond framed plates that harbour the energies that increase their powers, minus all the extra baubles they purchased.

But as War moved to pay the demon who practically salivated at the deliciousness of souls War was about to offer, hands trembling in his hunger, he instead rattled his hands to shake in refusal.

“No, no, Horseman. You’re upgrade is free.”

“What?” War almost sputtered and Strife’s head spun on a swivel, ducking back and forth between his brother and Vulgrim. “W-wait, wait— he gets a free upgrade?”

“You have the child to thank for that. A hefty pouch of gold, and exquisite gems that will fetch a fine price to other buyers.”

War and Strife looked to each other before they gaze equally turned to see you, happily asleep and wrapped up in the confines of those blankets, sleeping soundly and safe as Dis took watch over you. Occasionally her hand ghosts over your face, brushing aside some hair that fell into your nose and tickled your nose, causing your face to scrunch and eyes try to peer open, stirring.

Your heart was… pure in your intention. It was by no design that you coveted treasures and hoards of your own back in your own world. War saw it in your eyes when you nodded slowly when Strife explained that example.

You knew nothing of greed. It was not materialism in your heart. You only thought about the wants and needs of others. Golden treasures that could easily sway the most noble of minds could not touch you, not affect you.

Your kindness in turn was the only treasure the Horsemen found true worth in.

#headlinesxcomics publishing #darksiders #female reader #child reader #darksiders x reader #platonic darksiders x reader #darksiders war x reader #darksiders strife x reader #darksiders strife #darksiders war #darksiders genesis

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awillowdryad · 1 year ago

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To Love Is To Be Vulnerable ~ Peter Pevensie

Okay, so I've never let anyone ever read any of my fanfics before but I've decided once and for all to take the plunge and share some of my scribbles! Hope you like it!

Just a disclaimer: This work (and the title) is inspired by a quote by CS Lewis. I just want to be clear that this quote isn't mine. I was only inspired by it. I also reference a Tennyson quote - this isn't mine either! I also drew some inspiration from That's When by Taylor Swift. :)

Summary: The Reader is engaged to Peter during the Golden Age but is facing doubts and fears over their relationship.

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death

“Are you saying that you don’t want to marry me anymore?”

Y/N exhaled, grappling for the right words as she faced her husband-to-be. “No, I…I just…I need some time…some space…to think about all of this.”

“Oh…okay.” He toed the floor with his boot, before lifting his head to peer at her beneath his golden fringe with such solemnity that she nearly caved right there and then. “I-I get it. I’ll still be here.”

He gave her a weak smile. Y/N thanked him and turned away quickly before he could see the tears beginning to spill down her cheeks.

She had almost reached her chambers when she rounded a corner and nearly flew headlong into Edmund.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed as they both tried to apologise at once. Then he caught sight of her face. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she gulped, “I just-”

Unable to summon any excuse, she bolted for her door, leaving Edmund entirely nonplussed as it banged shut.

She sank down against it, tears coming on quite freely now that she was safely alone, heart in turmoil. She didn’t even want to think about what Peter must be feeling - she couldn’t think of him - mustn’t. She knew my words had been hard to hear and even harder to say.

Y/N looked down at the ring on her left hand and twisted it around her finger, touching the large jewel set in its middle. Peter had given it to her a few months ago- on a balmy summer evening so romantic she’d swooned every time she thought about it after- before he had gone to war. Before she had experienced the agony of waiting and wondering, nights when she’d cried herself to sleep, the tears on her pillow her only comfort, unsure if she would ever see his face again, not knowing if he was dead or alive. He had promised the battle would be over in one. After three he still hadn't returned. Everyone in Cair Paravel had begun to doubt his ever returning, until he had reappeared, dishevelled and sporting a few fresh scars, but victorious.

She had managed to join in the celebrations, plastering a smile on her face that didn’t match her feelings. Oh, she was happy to have Peter back, that was certain. It had been the greatest relief of her life when he turned up at her chambers the day he returned. But now that heavenly love that had consumed her was embedded with fear.

Laying her head back against the hardness of the door, she opened her mouth and let out a sob. She loved Peter more than words. But how could she condemn herself to a life of torment, of that hideous, unbearable feeling, every time he went to war? It was unavoidable as king, especially High King. And he was a good king too; he put himself on the frontline of every conflict, every problem. But there was not a thing she could do to protect him. She would simply have to sit back and let him go every time battle called.

Peter had soon realised that something was not quite right with her after he returned. And that was when she’d had to tell him - look into his beautiful blue eyes and tell him what she was feeling. Their wedding day had been set for a date now less than three months away, but Y/N was beginning to doubt if she could face a love filled with such risk. Their marriage - once so joyful and hopeful a thought - was now tainted by these claws of fear.

Oh, she just couldn’t face loving him only to lose him!

Days passed. Every morning Y/N woke, Peter’s face was conjured up in her mind. He was always laughing in the image - his face splitting to release his glorious laugh - but privately she shed many tears as she went about slowly getting ready for breakfast.

She would catch him watching her over meals, his eyes gazing upon her with an unspoken ache before she would quickly look away. They exchanged pleasantries under perfect politeness, but there was a gaping chasm between them. Yet under the guise of it all was the fact that Peter had respected Y/N’s wishes and given her the space she’d asked for, which only made her love him more.

One morning she was sitting in the upstairs library. She was surrounded by books, but there was not a thought of reading in her mind. She simply sat, seeing but not really seeing, her mind paralysed over a golden haired king.

The door gave a familiar creak, ripping her from her inner turmoil. She looked up. It was only Edmund.

He came in silently and sat down across from her, peering at the title of the book on the table. Y/N idly returned to her misery.

“So, how long have you been sitting here pining over him?”

She started. “Pardon?”

The corner of his mouth tugged into a wry smile. “Oh come on, Y/N. We all know that you and Peter are on a slight…hiatus.”

She shook her head. “It’s not what you think. It’s just…” She studied him, wondering how much to tell. Something about Edmund always made her longing to tell him her problems just so she could get his verdict. “I’m scared that…if I marry him…one of these days he’s going to go to battle and never come back.”

She looked away, blinking hard, having never expressed it in so many words.

He was quiet for a moment. “You’re afraid of getting your heart broken?” He didn’t sound accusing, only sympathetic.

“Well…yes. Yes, I suppose that’s it.”

Edmund smoothed his hand over the arm of his chair, forehead sporting his thoughtful expression. “You know, any kind of love holds an element of risk.” He went on. “Love requires a certain level of vulnerability.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“Well, you can love no one and nothing, put your heart in a box and protect it from ever being broken. Or, you can be vulnerable, love without restraint and chance the danger of getting hurt. But it’s up to you to take that risk, or risk being stale forever.”

Y/N stared at him. “But…but isn’t it dreadful to take the risk -of loving someone- and then lose them?”

Edmund smiled. “But isn’t it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?”

She was silent, her mind whirling. He had totally got her there. She stood and walked to the window, overlooking the castle gates. Peter was just outside. She watched him interacting with a young centaur, her heart thumping.

And suddenly, the storm in her mind stilled. The ache ceased and the gnawing in her chest faded so at last she could feel her own heartbeat, gentle and rhythmic.

“Oh, thank you Ed!” she cried. He only smiled to himself as she bolted from the room.

She flew along the castle hallways, down the marble staircase, and out the main door, nearly colliding with a servant carrying a basket of oranges. “Oh! Sorry!” she exclaimed, helping her to right the wobbling mound of fruit, before rushing to the front gate. Peter was still there, just coming in. His head snapped up when he saw her.

Y/N ran to him, skirts flying, and threw herself into his arms.

“Oh Peter! I’m sorry! I-” she halted, suddenly realising how hard it was to talk.

He laughed, that glorious sound filling the air for real this time. “Hey! Catch your breath for a moment.”

Gulping, she looked up at him. “I love you.” It came out breathlessly. “I can never stop loving you.”

His face lit up as he grinned. “I love you too.”

She pushed herself against him, feeling his heart beat a steady, strong rhythm deep in his chest. “It was dreadful when you were away, I can’t pretend it wasn’t.”

He hung his head. “I know. I put you through alot.”

“I can’t bear the thought of losing you, Peter.” She told him, “I couldn’t stand the idea of you going to battle again. But I don’t care now. It’s a risk I’m willing to take. It’s a small price for getting to love you.”

He stared at her as though he was mesmerised. “Are you sure? I know it’s a big ask for you to be my wife.”

She nodded, eyes gleaming as she gazed at him. “I don’t like my life without you in it. I will love you with all my heart until my dying breath.”

He wrapped his arms around her then, hugging her so hard he lifted her off her feet, his face mushed into the crook of her neck. It was quiet, barely audible, but she heard his muffled whisper. “I love you so much. Thank you for letting me back into your heart.”

Y/N pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, unwilling to break any more contact than was necessary. “You never left it,” she whispered before she kissed him. “You have my heart always.”

She knew it was true.

To love is to be vulnerable.

Well, there we go! Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think!

#peter pevensie fanfic #peter pevensie x reader #narnia #narnia fanfiction #chronicles of narnia #cs lewis

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unhetalia · 8 months ago

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In contrast to my preference for soft Ivan/Alfred, I sometimes desperately want a darker Arthur/Alfred.

My main go-tos (in my brain):

Arthur accidentally/on purpose permanently harms Alfred during the American Revolution.

Alfred's realising that the American colony (aka him) didn't matter that much to England (Arthur).

ADDED CANADA BETRAYAL! Matthew and Arthur during the War of 1812 and Alfred's psychology when two of the people he's closest to choose each other over him.

Alfred's love for Arthur being unrequited. Arthur being in a public relationship with someone completely unlike Alfred that shows Alfres every day how incompatible they are.

England becoming an Empire once again and THIS time, America will be the jewel in its crown. Despite what Alfred wants. (Bonus angst: Like in the past, Matthew joins Arthur).

(As you can see this is all Alfred torture. My hobby.)

My main issue is that I still NEED a happy ending but I get so carried away causing Alfred pain that I am like. Is anyone even gonna root for this romance to happen. Or will everyone just want Alfred to run away in the woods?

#ukus #usuk #hetalia #aph #hetalia world series #hws #hws america #aph america #when u cause TOO MUCH PAIN and dont know how to fix it #-#re: ukus #.txt #file: idea

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anonymousewrites · 8 months ago

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Logos and Pathos Pride Special 2024

TOS! Spock x Empath! Reader

Pride Special 2024

“Come on, Spock, have some fun!” cheered Kirk.

Around the landing party, music played, and people were dancing. They were on a brief break on a Federation planet, and they had arrived just in time for a Pride celebration. Although all sexualities were accepted these days—at least in the Federation—planets who had to fight for their rights before getting it legalized to love who they loved still celebrated the bravery of those in the past.

And, therefore, the Enterprise had ended up there due to their diverse group of officers. (Of course, Kirk had been the one to push everyone to the celebration).

Kirk wore his Starfleet uniform but had replaced his pin for a bi-flag pin. He also wore a large grin on his face.

“Captain, I am here in support of our crew,” said Spock. “And I engaged in ‘festivities’ last pride celebration. I fail to understand why it must be repeated.”

“Come on, dear, it’s fun,” said (Y/N), smiling at him and looping their arm around his. They wore their pansexual pin and a nonbinary pin on their shirt. They held up the asexual spectrum pin to him. “Please? For me?”

Spock was a softie for his spouse. “Very well, T’hy’la.” He allowed them to put the pin on him.

Bones narrowed his eyes. “Unbelievable. You only ever do things if they want you to.” He crossed his arms. He wore a pin that said “queer,” but, in his own words, “why do I care what people think it means?” Bones thought people could either be attracted to him or not, and he’d decide whether or not he liked them after that.

“They are married, Bones,” laughed Uhura. Her earrings had blue, purple, and pink jewels—the bi flag. “It’s expected. And it’s sweet.”

Spock raised a brow. “How can an expression remind one of a taste?”

“It’s a human thing,” said Kirk, clapping Spock on the back.

“But Uhura is right. It’s nice that you and (L/N) have a healthy relationship,” said Sulu, smiling. He had a rainbow pin and had already sent a picture of the event to his husband.

“Ah, is that what the expression means?” said Spock.

“Yeah,” said (Y/N), chuckling. “And it means like we really like each other.” They kissed Spock on the cheek.

Spock looked at them fondly, and Kirk furrowed his brow as he tried to see if Spock was smiling. (Everyone on the Bridge was always playing the “spot when Spock is smiling” game, and they always won when (Y/N) was around).

“Okay, okay, stop being sappy,” said Bones, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to get a drink with Scotty.”

(Scotty had already left to find the best snacks at the festival.)

“Have fun, Bones!” said Kirk.

“Uhura, want to dance?” said Sulu, smiling at his friend.

“Of course,” said Uhura, smiling.

Sulu offered her his arm, and Uhura took it with a laugh. As the music played, the pair moved to the dance floor and began to dance.

“I’m going to find someone to dance with,” said Kirk with a grin, immediately heading off into the crowd.

“That won’t take him long,” said (Y/N) in an amused tone.

Kirk was very confident when it came to flirting, so he would undoubtedly take only a few minutes to find a woman, man, or person to dance with (or make out with. Or fight with. Kirk had an unusual way of bonding with people).

“It will not,” agreed Spock. He also knew the data on Kirk’s ability to make friends was in Kirk’s favor.

(Y/N) laughed and shook their head. “What do you want to do while they all find their own messes?”

Sulu and Uhura would be fine—they were sensible enough to be mature and stick to their own fun—but the others were likely to find some sort of trouble or more crazy fun.

“I know you enjoy dancing, T’hy’la,” said Spock. “I will dance with you if you’d like that.”

“Spock, you know that I wouldn’t make you do anything that you’d be uncomfortable about,” said (Y/N). “I respect you too much.”

“And you know, T’hy’la, that you have never made me uncomfortable,” said Spock. “I am perfectly at ease with you.” He took their hand gently. “And I am pleased when you are happy.”

(Y/N) smiled widely. “I think Uhura is right. You are very sweet with me.”

“If that is what humans call respecting your spouse, then yes,” said Spock fondly.

(Y/N)’s cheeks warmed since they knew “respecting your spouse” translated to “loving your spouse.” “I make you dance enough.”

“No,” corrected Spock. “We dance together. And with you, it is an honor.” It was an honor to be with (Y/N). He was married to them. He adored them. He loved them.

So, as (Y/N) beamed at him, Spock confidently moved towards the dance floor and guided them with him. The music was energetic, and he was not sure how to dance to it, but as (Y/N) jumped and twirled to the beat while holding his hand, he found himself enjoying the moment anyways.

(Y/N) was happy, and that was enough. To the outside world, the stiff, stoic Vulcan holding the beaming, bright Celian’s hand was strange, but to them, they were happy and in love. (Y/N) loved being with Spock, and they loved having fun, and as long as they had both, they were happy.

And Spock was satisfied—happy—with just being with (Y/N). Their happiness was his, and he loved them so deeply. As the song ended and (Y/N) laughed at the joy of the entire crowd—in flowed through their veins—Spock touched their fingers properly and let love flow from him to them.

(Y/N) paused as their marriage bond let the love circle around their entire heart, and they smiled. Spock loved them, and they loved him. Their relationship was incredibly strong, and although some people didn’t understand that—whether due to their gender, sexuality, or cultural backgrounds—that didn’t matter. It didn’t take away from their love.

(Y/N) and Spock were in love and knew it. That was all that mattered.

Taglist:

@a-ofzest

@grippleback-galaxy

@genderfluid-anime-goth

@groovy-lady

@im-making-an-effort

@unending-screaming

@h-l-vlovesvintage

@neenieweenie

@keylimeconstellation

@wormwig

@technikerin23

@ilyatan

@nthdarkqueen

@kyalov

@starlit-cass

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bethdehart · 2 years ago

Photo

Emoji Adopt: Lovely Bat

Minimum Bid: $10

Auto Buy: $20

Check replies or dm me for availability! Auction ends 24 hours after final bid, or immediately if auto-bought.

TOS and ID under cut

TOS: Once bought you can do whatever you want with them* but please credit me for the original design at least once. After purchase you will get a transparent PNG. Comment or message me to claim.

*Please do not use for racist, -phobic, ableist, terfy, abusive, n/f/t etc things

[ID: A sketch of an anthropomorphic bat woman. She is chubby, and has white fur with yellow feet, tail, hair, and tops of wings. her hair also has a pink curly stripe. She is wearing a tight dress that is hot pink with a blue heart. There are blue raindrop shaped jewels hanging from the ends of her wing membranes. She has noticeable fluff around her neck which is yellow and pink. Pink hearts occasionally dot her wings and body. Her neck fluff and tail have yellow ‘spikes’ coming out of them.]

#adopts #adopts open #open adopts #cute adopts #furry adopts #cheap adopts #emoji adopts #adoptables #adoptables open #open adoptables #cute adoptables #furry adoptables #cheap adoptables #emoji adoptables #cute #furry #bat #furry art #furry fandom

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ensignsimp · 1 year ago

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Yandere! Mirror! Verse TOS Kirk and Spock HCs

(Original Post)

A/N: I think I've been reading too many fan fics.

TW: Yandere, Obsession, Possession, Exploitation, Power Play, Slight (N)SFW

Prompt: Yandere Mirror Verse ABCs (Cause why not.)

James T. Kirk

GIF by giantmonster

A - Attachment: How do they become obsessed?

You fell into the mirror-verse on accident when traveling through a wormhole.

It doesn't take long for him to discover that you are not the same ensign that was previously aboard.

He finds you just as interesting as your counterpart.

B - Brutality: How vicious can they be towards a rival?

He has absolutely no problem sending anyone to agonizing torture.

If anyone dared try to get between the two of them they would be met with strict force.

You belong to him, and no one else.

C - Caring: How well do they take care of their darling?

He'll always take care of your basic needs.

If you require more he'll want something in exchange.

Physical affection is one of his preferred forms of currency.

Spock

GIF by in-his-autumn-before-the-winter

A - Attachment: How do they become obsessed?

After trying to blend in (poorly) you think you've fooled everyone, except for him.

With one good look that's all it takes to know you're not who you claim to be.

He will hide you from the captain, he's not really much for sharing.

B - Brutality: How vicious can they be towards a rival?

He will use his cunning and intelligence to cut his enemies down to size.

He may even turn them into experiments watching them suffer for their arrogance.

However, he won't hesitate to physically remove a rival if it's the most logical option.

C - Caring: How well do they take care of their darling?

Spock will take care of your needs and then some.

He enjoys decorating you in his Vulcan cultural attire; luxurious green-hued robes, various jewels, and hair adornments.

He is the perfect mate, it is only logical that must demonstrate his ability to provide for you.

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dracarialove · 4 months ago

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Secret Desires

Rouge enlists Shadow to go on a treasure hunting journey, where a mishap in an underground cave coaxes her to reveal the romantic feelings she's been harboring for him.

(Reversal of Buried Desires)

Ship: Shadow/Rouge

*Originally published April 20th, 2024

A/N: This story exists thanks to @yokaishinari who gave me a more fleshed out idea for this reversal plot 💜

[Chapter 1: Come With Me]

Comforting darkness wrapped Rouge the Bat in a cool blanket of night air under a swath of stars twinkling in the vast indigo sky. She stared up at the thousands of tiny white specks glittering faintly behind crawling wisps of gray clouds.

A soft smile rested on her lips, and one heart-toed boot dangled off the side of her makeshift hammock; made from giant leaves and vines off the nearby trees, the hand-crafted bed kept her aloft between two solid oak trunks.

How tranquil it was, to be out in nature for once, never minding the noise of a city and letting the sights and sounds of wildlife fill her eyes and ears.

Crickets sang unabashedly, boasting creaky chirps from unseen places in the grass below. Fireflies floated about, doing nothing but adding a bit of golden light to the greenery.

And when a breeze blew by, leaves from the bushes and trees rustled together in a soft symphony of natural serenity, whispering secrets to each other that the bat would never understand.

It was rare for her to be out where she was now – by the plains; near the forest; just a half-day's trip from one of the biggest and least-explored mountains on the planet.

It was a tower of earth, that mountain, looking so obtainable from where she lay because it filled so much of the sky. It appeared to be just over the horizon, if one allowed themselves to be fooled by the illusion.

In reality, the gargantuan mound of dirt and stone was daunting when it was nearby, dangerous and looming, the sheer size of it enough to ward off many climbers and treasure hunters.

But to think of the jewel-lovers who'd been intimidated by the mountain's near-impervious outer edge, Rouge had to consider the ones who wouldn't be turned away.

How many had succeeded in exploring such an impressive mass of earth? A mass that was likely to be a tomb for many animals – and perhaps even explorers – who tried and failed to survive it.

If she tried, would she be a success or a failure? Would she make it out alive, with a bag of undiscovered gemstones and rare minerals to add to her very own gleaming collection?

The thought brought a sharp grin to the sly spy's mouth. If the mountain held treasures for her, she had to find them… after a quick nap in this peaceful place.

***

Now, if she was going to go on a jewel hunt in risky territory, it would be best to bring someone else along to keep her chances of survival high. Awakening from her nap between the trees, that was the first thing on Rouge's mind as she stretched inside her hammock.

She sat up and flattened out her wings on either side of her figure, flexing them to prepare for the trip, and raised a finger to her ear to activate her communication device.

"Shadow – come in, Shadow."

It was a gamble on if he would be awake or asleep at this hour. Sometimes the hedgehog stayed alert for much of the night, wandering or thinking; he could also be lounging at Club Rouge, helping himself to some of her stock; or, he could be slumbering in her spare bed, practically dead to the world.

But he was the best person to accompany her on this personal mission. What other options did she have, really? Omega was wholly uninterested in gems. Sonic and his friends weren't the jewel-plundering type.

And the only other treasure hunter who could match her skill, well… he already wasn't fond of her company. She wouldn't really want to share her findings even if he was up for the challenge, anyway.

Shadow, though – he could be persuaded to assist her, and he wouldn't ask for a percentage of whatever she found. Plus, his speed alone would make the 12-hour trip into a trivial one. For a moment, the line was quiet, and she thought he might not answer. Then, the Ultimate Lifeform's voice came through.

"Yes, Rouge? You don't sound like you're in trouble."

"Well, not yet," she answered back, lying against the big leaves and throwing one leg over the other. "And I won't be if you do me a big, gleaming, courteous favor."

"I don't like the sound of that…"

He gave pause for her to make her request, which she voiced in the sweetest tone she could manage. "Would you accompany me on a… well, I was going to say a 'little' treasure hunt, but… it's not really so little."

"Do I even have to ask why?"

"Not if you don't want to hear the same thing you did last time."

Another pause as Rouge's lifted foot bounced up and down in the air. A smile played on her lips, the one she always held when she knew she was about to get what she wanted.

Shadow inquired, "How dangerous is it this time?"

"Hmm, well…" She looked over at the distant dark mountain, just a silhouette in the midnight sky. "The location is one of the biggest mountains in the world. So, dangerous enough that I shouldn't go alone. Of course, I will if I have to, but I might not make it out alive without an exceptional lifeform looking out for me."

"Wait, one of the biggest mountains… where are you right now?"

"About half a day's trip from that cluster of tall peaks past the Forest Expanse. What is it called again?"

"The Macabre Cliffs… and you can guess how it got that name." There was a dark seriousness to his tone, but the bat was used to him sounding grave, so she paid it little mind. "Rouge, you should not go there. Why are you that far from the city, anyway?"

She answered casually, "I decided to be out in nature for once. Made myself a nice little spot between the plains and the forest, and I'm looking up at the stars right now! Pretty beautiful out here; all the more reason for you to join me!"

He sounded a little more annoyed when he asked, "You said you would go on your own if you didn't have backup?"

"Sure! You know how determined I am. Just thinking about all the potential treasure is enough to motivate me. So, how about it, Shadow? Will ya meet me?"

He huffed in irritation so she could hear his lack of enthusiasm. "Fine. Only so you don't die doing something stupid."

"Hurray, I knew I could count on you," she casually praised. "Let me owe you for it."

"That's a given. It seems you ask for a favor every week."

She clicked her tongue. "No, I don't. We help each other, that's how it's always been. Now get over here quick so we can start traveling ASAP!"

"Yes, Your Majesty," he replied sarcastically, and she could picture his eyes rolling as he said it.

***

The faint sound of shuffling grass grabbed Rouge's attention. She turned left in her hammock to scan the plains and spotted her partner on the other side, near the opposite border of another forest.

She watched him for a second, amused at the hedgehog looking around on the wrong side for wherever she was lounging. Then, the charming lady cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted out to him, "Are ya lost, handsome? Your date's over here!"

She saw his head turn, and squinted to recognize a bit of surprise on his face before it changed back into indifference. In a streak of orange light, he rushed to the grass beneath her, wind from his brief travel rustling the foliage in front of him and causing even her hammock to sway a bit.

"Woo, careful, Shad!" the bat teased. "Wouldn't want to knock me out of the nice little seat I made!"

"Can you just come down here so we can get going?" He was frowning up at her, eyes fiery red and impatient.

Rouge sighed and hopped off the giant leaves, floating down to his level and crossing her arms. "Jeez, have a little fun, will you? We're about to take on an exciting treasure hunt."

"Exciting for you," he grumbled, slipping one arm behind her back and the other under her legs to sweep the spy off her feet.

She enwrapped his neck and clasped her hands atop his shoulder, beaming at the hedgehog in a way he found to be smug; but it was also charming, the way her eyes sparkled at him while the curl of her pink lips shimmered, and he couldn't defy that look when she struck him with it.

Rouge knew that, and she used it every time she asked him to go out of his way for her. To keep the Ultimate Lifeform around was to achieve two things: complete whatever task she'd set for herself twice – and sometimes thrice – as fast; and spend more time with her favorite person, using her aspirations as an excuse to hang out with him.

She hadn't told him yet how he really affected her. That his presence made her feel warmer than anyone else's, even as he seemed cold to most people.

She thought there would be a right time to reveal it, some special moment where it would make sense to open up that deeply to the most reserved guy on the planet.

Rouge wasn't sure he felt the same, and she kept telling herself that she'd get it done eventually; that if she just said it, she'd be able to move on from the lingering longing that persisted to annoy her with its nagging, tugging insistence to confess, confess, confess!

But she hesitated, and tried to ignore the fact that she was nervous about being snubbed. It was easier to lock up her heart than to bare it to the one man who might be able to break it.

She didn't know that her caution was unnecessary. He was struggling with feelings for her, as well. And as if the ball of tangled emotions that formed in his stomach when he held her wasn't enough, that look of sly charm she gave him made Shadow shiver inside.

He had to focus on the destination ahead, on the tall shadowy peaks waiting in the distance, to keep from thinking too much about the plumpness of her thighs against his palm, or the intimate wrap of her arms around him.

But unlike the bat's slow progress towards being honest with him, he was stagnant. Emotionally repressed, he found it difficult to express feelings that could get him hurt.

He would find confessing any romantic affection to be easier if rejection was a purely physical pain – if it came in the form of a punch to the face rather than a strike through the heart.

The emotional pain he'd felt in his life was far more agonous than any hit he'd ever taken. He wouldn't be able to stand that kind of hurt if it came from her.

They arrived at the base of the mountain in record time, and Shadow realized when he looked up at the towering peaks that dark stormy clouds were creeping towards them. Keeping that in mind, he asked, "So, where is this fabled treasure you were talking about?"

"Deep underground," she answered, leaving his arms, then added, "supposedly."

"For your sake, something worth our time had better be there." He followed his partner along the jagged walls of the mountain, studying the stone and dirt building on each other.

"I've found jewels in some of the most unlikely places before!" Rouge chirped confidently. "Just look for an opening, a dip; anything that could lead us inside."

They walked around the mountain's edge for a bit, hearing the rumble of distant thunder slowly getting closer. If this trip ended up getting rained out, they would have to consider it a wash and leave – something the gem-hungry woman really didn't want to do.

Scanning the cliff sides with tunnel focus, she eventually spotted a section of the earth that looked uneven. Not naturally so, as if it built that way over time, but dented inwards with lots of rubble on the ground nearby.

She trotted over to it and discovered a pile of sizable rocks crammed into the crevice, arching on the edges as if they were stuffing a cave entrance.

"Bingo!" she exclaimed, her wings fluttering excitedly.

Shadow watched her brace herself against the rocks, turning her head and pointing one ear at the pile. It was interesting to see how she worked when she was hunting for treasure, utilizing her senses more than usual.

After a few seconds, she pulled away and took some steps backwards. There was an adventurous glint in her eyes when she looked at the hedgehog.

"Stand back, handsome. We're breaking in!"

He hopped away from the stones and watched as Rouge launched herself in the air, spinning into a Screw Kick before hurtling towards the mountain.

Her rapid, powerful kicks blasted the rocks away from the crevice, pushing most of them farther inside the cave they'd been concealing. She jumped back from the entrance in case it triggered a collapse of some kind.

When it didn't, her attention was drawn by steady clapping beside her, and she looked over to see Shadow giving her an impressed smile.

"Not bad," he said, bringing a touch of blush to her cheeks with his unexpected compliment.

She chuckled, "I'm so glad you recognize my skills!" and approached the mouth of the cavern.

Looking inside, it didn't seem too dark with the natural light spilling in. Though, that would change the deeper they went. Rouge didn't have a light source with her for this impromptu search, which made her wonder if her friend had something on him that could help when she was no longer able to make out shapes in the darkness.

That led her to mindfully question how much light one of his Chaos Spears casted before tucking the thought away to be brought up later.

Walking in first, her large ears twitched in multiple directions, picking up the sounds of wind bouncing off the walls and water dripping somewhere farther in. Her heels clacked and shifted dryly on the stone and dirt beneath her, and her colleague's footfalls followed.

"Normal-looking cave," she noted, spotting the narrower path off to the right that would lead them elsewhere.

Shadow appreciated status reports, especially as their tag-team treasure hunts weren't a regular occurrence. He knew he could trust Rouge to say what was typical or atypical during their time in a dark cave.

After all, it was sort of the least she could do to make his time assisting her easier. If there was danger, he'd be the first confronting it. He stayed near her as she entered the thin path, minding how close he could get without bumping into her if she stopped suddenly.

"Looks like it gets even narrower up ahead," she informed him as their light source became more distant.

"Be careful," chimed Shadow, keeping one hand in front of him in case she reached back to grab it.

He wouldn't want her to fall down an unexpected opening, or accidentally advance too far ahead of him when the darkness overpowered his vision.

Once they got to the progressively thinner part of the path, he just barely made out Rouge's posture turning sideways to slip between the rock walls.

He followed her lead, but before long, a knot formed in his stomach at the inevitability of not being able to see. The places they'd hunted in before were much more spacious than this.

He squinted at his partner's barely visible figure and said, "It's getting too dark."

"Oh, uh… okay, there's a bigger space up ahead. When we get there, I want to try something. But until then, here – take my hand."

He noticed a brief swish of gray as she waved her hand in the small gap, then it disappeared when he reached for it. He couldn't see anymore, but after a second of searching, his fingers found hers and they locked together.

They shuffled through the cramped, uneven hall of stone for a daunting stretch of a minute. Rouge could see why people would get discouraged having to go through here to explore the mountain, and she could guess it was similarly unnerving any other way in.

The bat was having more trouble seeing, but she could hear water dripping up ahead, and she knew they'd make it out of the tight squeeze before she needed more light.

Shadow was completely blind, seeing nothing but blackness no matter where he looked; the only thing that grounded him was their shared grip. And it helped to calm Rouge, too, knowing she was going through this cavern with the man she could trust more than anyone.

"Almost there," she commented, slinking out of the last foot of narrow path.

She kept a tight hold on his hand while he worked his way out, then looked at him when he stepped next to her. "Okay, now I want to know – how much light would one of your Chaos Spears cast?"

He gazed in the direction of her face, but couldn't make proper eye contact. "I'm not sure. I suppose we could try it."

"Please do."

She let go of his hand and took one step away from him, careful not to go too far in case there was a drop-off she couldn't see. Then Shadow quickly flicked his wrist towards the ground, wrapping his gloved fingers around the golden Spear that flickered into existence.

Yellow sparks of Chaos energy danced around the arrow-shaped bolt, giving off a bright glow that illuminated a few feet of the cave around him. Seeing that it wasn't much, he conjured a Spear in his other hand to make the area brighter.

"I can work with that," said Rouge, studying the space they were in and seeing there was indeed a drop-off not far from where they stood.

She cautiously approached it, as did Shadow, and he repositioned the Spears at different angles to try and see how deep it went, or anything beyond it. Unfortunately, it was too deep, and the stretch ahead was too wide, so nothing was shown to them.

His partner eyed the energy bolts and asked, "Would it do too much damage if you tossed one to see what we're working with?"

"There's only one way to find out. If it does, we can always escape back the way we came."

She gave him a smile and crossed her fingers, then he gently tossed one of the Spears down the cliff. Free-falling sideways instead of hurtling straight down seemed to work in not destroying anything; it revealed the steep drop of a stone wall, falling a long way before hitting the curved bottom and disintegrating into electric shards.

Shadow then made a new one and tossed it straight ahead. The arrow tip landed on a bronze-colored structure and caused a small explosion, which made Rouge gasp. A light rumble echoed through the cavern, but there weren't any signs of collapse or falling debris.

"Damn," Shadow said, then looked at the treasure hunter. "Sorry."

"I think we're okay." She waited a few seconds, listening for tumbling rocks or shakes in the earth, but heard nothing besides water dripping. "Just, no more throwing. But it looks like this drop-off leads to a cavernous dip in the earth. There must be tons of stone above us keeping this mountain sturdy."

"Should we search the area?"

"Yeah. I'll fly us." She turned and held out her hand for him to take. "I want to see what that thing was."

He held her hand again, keeping his other grip on the Chaos Spear, and allowed her to lift him off the ground. They slowly made their way across what seemed like a chasm, while Shadow gently dropped his Spears to illuminate the area without damaging anything.

They saw more glimpses of bronze, and it didn't take long for Rouge to recognize that the structures she was seeing were deliberately shaped.

They weren't just natural formations of the earth, and when she landed them in the middle of the chasm, her mouth dropped open at their discovery.

"Ruins…" she revealed softly, staring up at the arches and columns all around.

Holding up two Chaos Spears, Shadow lit up the space for her, watching Rouge graze her palm against a solid obelisk. Her voice was a near whisper when she spoke, "Incredible… these are undiscovered ruins of… something. A lost tribe? An ancient civilization?"

"Gods?" he suggested, receiving a surprised glance from his companion.

"There's no markings… no way to know…"

Exploring the area, they didn't find anything that would suggest who or what had erected the structures. What they did eventually run across was a dip in the center of a stone platform that covered the ground.

The dip led to an opening, where the earth seemed dug through like a tunnel. The brave pair looked down at the new entrance that led to something further unknown, then Rouge gave Shadow a coaxing smile.

"We haven't come across any real danger yet. Wanna roll some more dice?"

He shared her stare, feeling an adventurous sense of tension between them at the admittedly thrilling prospect of discovering more mysterious things with her. "We've gone this far. There might be treasure down there, right?"

Her smile widened into a grin – a pleasantly mischievous expression he'd really come to like – and she caught a flutter in her heart at her best friend being so committed to hunting jewels with her. She positioned herself behind him, hooking both arms under his shoulders so his back was against her front.

"That's my Shadow," she purred, and he could've sworn she was being sultry on purpose, because the smooth cadence of her voice made a shiver run down his spine.

She lifted the hedgehog off the ground with the powerful flap of her wings, holding onto him as they descended carefully down the earthy tunnel. It smelled much more acidic, the dirt looking more red than brown, but there was nothing else to be seen or smelled until they reached the bottom.

Once they landed on solid stone, they found the space being lit up was another cave; this one smelling of unclean water and plant life. And what they saw made Shadow absorb his Spears into nothingness, both of them staring silently in awe at the natural light source they'd discovered.

Rouge had never seen cave walls glow and glitter so beautifully before.

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