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electronikmilk · 3 years

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Papa’s Punishment

alternative title: Accidentally Fucking Around and Finding Out

ive been working on this for so long and im sick of lookin at it

rating: explicit/nsfw

Copia x f reader

contains: dom copia, possible abuse of power, spanking, and pet play.

You had dozed, then awakened to find that you were still bound in Copia's ornate bed-chamber deep within the abbey walls.

No, he wasn't Copia anymore. He was Papa now. And you had to address him as such when he wore the paint. That was what he said when he had his Ghouls drag you into his chamber after you had called him the silly little nickname that the other sisters called him behind his back as a joke. Ratman. It was innocent enough since he was fond of the small rodents, or so you thought. Copia's face had grown dark as soon as you uttered it, and it frightened you enough to fall silent after a fit of giggles. Then he reached out and gripped your chin tight before leaning close to address you.

"Mm. Funny." He said in a way that sounded like he didn't find it funny at all and glared down at you, "It is bold of you to be disrespectful to your Papa when he wears the paint. And that is all I will be to you now. I'm not Copia, not Cardinal, and especially not Ratman. I am Papa, and I will not accept any other title, sister. Perhaps a little lesson is in order so you will remember this."

Before you could say anything, Copia snapped his fingers, and that was when his two Ghouls surrounded you, grabbed you by the arms, and marched down the halls with you in tow. Everyone within the corridors stopped and watched as the Ghouls dragged you along. Two sisters from the convent whispered to each other and turned their gazes away as if they might be taken away at any second too. They knew where you were going, and it was sure as hell somewhere they didn't want to be, for it was a place of great shame and mystery. You let your head drop in humiliation before your peers, not standing the way they saw you. It was a relief when you finally arrived at Copia's chamber and were taken inside. You said nothing to the Ghouls as they fastened leather cuffs around your ankles, then bound your hands over your head with silk rope.

"Sorry, sister," One of them had said. They removed the coif and veil of your habit, then pulled out the pins that held your hair in place so that it fell loose, "We're just following Papa's orders. I'm sure you understand."

All you gave them was a contemptuous look until they left.

You had struggled against your restraints until you eventually gave up, falling asleep despite your buttocks pushing against the hard stone wall behind you. How long had that been? There was no clock or window in the room, so it was hard for you to tell. Perhaps a few hours. Long enough for you to wake up with a sore neck, anyway. The room itself lay in shadow and unbroken stillness. You winced as you turned your head to look around the room. The only illumination offered to you was from a small antique lamp on an ink-stained writing desk in the corner. The dim light threw long uneven shadows on the high arched ceiling above. A king-sized bed sat against the wall opposite you with a canopy bed frame draped with black cloth. It made it look like a dark, cavernous mouth that was ready to swallow you whole. A tall mahogany bookshelf containing several taxidermied rats positioned in various poses stood near the door. You made a face at the furry ornaments. It was definitely Copia's room.

Your stomach growled, and the sound of it in the stillness of the room made it seem more like a lion's roar. How long Copia planned to keep you in here and what his intentions were, you didn't know for sure. You just hoped he wouldn't starve you. The thought sent a sudden jolt of panic through you; your mind flashed images of you left to rot in a cell in the abbey basement. You knew that the cells had been abandoned for centuries, just collecting dust and acting as storage for Yuletide decorations. But Copia had changed since he finally became Papa Emeritus IV. You had always thought him awkward as a Cardinal, sometimes even amusing in his antics, but he was always just that: awkward, no one to be scared of. It was a curious and abrupt transformation; He held his head high now, and his stride was no longer unsure or clumsy. When he wore the paint, he had an air of authority, of strength and pride no one knew he had. He wanted respect, and he demanded it among the clergy with an iron fist. Everyone was to address him as Papa only and woe unto anyone who didn't comply. At first, you had to admit his newfound confidence in his power was something to admire, covet even. That is until the sisters of the order were no longer safe from his wrath, then it became something to be feared. Copia had forgiven slips of the tongue and had given warnings that he said he would only offer once. If it happened again, however, there would be a severe punishment to follow.

Sister Claire was the first to be punished. Claire had always been hotheaded and often butted heads with her superiors for the sake of her own amusement. She had been no different with Copia two months ago. On your way to your weekly duty to clean the chapel, you stumbled upon Copia, two Nameless Ghouls, and Claire in the middle of the empty hall. You seemed to go unnoticed by all four. Curious, you slipped into one of the corridor's alcoves and peeked around the corner, as not to be seen. As you listened closely, you caught the tail end of a heated argument over the state of the abbey's gardens. Claire was on a tirade, ranting about how Copia's lack of dedication to employing a proper gardener made the grounds look like it was in shambles. She had addressed the new Papa as Cardinal several times, much to Copia's irritation. The former Cardinal stood back with folded arms and a frown while the hot-blooded sister babbled on about how this needed attention and how that needed fixing. She addressed him incorrectly the entire time. It amazed you how bullheaded Claire could be.

"Cara," Copia finally interrupted after Claire had called him Cardinal for the fifth time, his voice becoming stern. "I understand that you're upset, but I have made it more than clear that everyone within this church is to call me Papa. And frankly, I will not tolerate your blatant disregard for my rules."

"Don't you 'Cara' me!" Sister Claire shot back, " And I'll call you Papa when I'm damn well good and ready. But until then, I think I'll keep calling you Cardinal, Cardinal."

"Basta! Enough!" Copia shouted suddenly, grabbed Claire by the wrist, and dragged her behind him as he headed further down the hall, luckily away from your direction. "I have been patient with you, sister, with all of you. But no more!"

Claire resisted, trying to wrench from his grasp and yelling at him to let her go. Copia ignored this and tugged her along anyway. When she started cursing and slapping at him, Copia gestured for a Ghoul to take her about the waist and carry her. Claire shrieked like a banshee and kicked her legs in the air when she was lifted. Copia gave the Ghoul a sharp command for them to silence her, and the Ghoul clapped a hand over Claire's mouth, muffling the scream as they hauled her away. You watched the whole display in shock, unable to move or look away. When all four of them disappeared around a corner, you crept out from your hiding place on shaky legs. You quickly made your way to the chapel without encountering anyone else, and it was a relief to you. You tried to put what you saw out of your head, but as you tended to your regular duties, the sound of Claire's screams resonated in your head.

You didn't see Sister Claire again until late into the evening. She seemed no worse for wear, having neither a bruise nor scratch on her. But she was timid, quiet, and obedient, you noticed when Sister Imperator asked her to sweep and wash the floor, which she almost scurried to do. When the other sisters asked her where she had been, Claire just shook her head frantically. Her pretty face grew red, and a look of shame and fear that concerned you twisted her features.

"I can't tell you!" was all she said and nothing more.

It wasn't too long until other insubordinate sisters fell victim to Copia's fury. Each one disappeared into his chambers for hours at a time, and when they were set free, none of them spoke of what they went through. You could only speculate, and what you brewed up in your head terrified you. All manner of dark medieval tortures often raced by: pears of anguish, iron chairs, Spanish donkeys, breast rippers, and thumbscrews. You knew all of that was impossible, however. None of the other sisters had a mark on them when they returned; they barely even a hair out of place, so what kind of punishment was wicked enough to force them all into silence? Whatever it was, you tried so hard to avoid it. You never spoke out of turn, tended to your duties without complaint, you even baked a cake for Copia on his birthday. But despite all your effort, misfortune still befell you over a joke that wasn't even that funny. Your throat tightened as tears began to prickle behind your eyes, and you dreaded what kind of torment waited for you in this dark room.

You were almost lost in your contemplation of it all when you heard the heavy wooden door open. You saw the tall, lean figure of Copia enter the room and close the door behind him, a plate of food in one hand and a blood-red velvet bag in the other. He almost seemed like a specter, dressed in a figure-hugging black suit --the one that you said he looked handsome in to gain his favor. His face was bare of paint, save for his eyes. He had lined them with black, smudged eyeliner, making his mismatched gaze smoldering and intense.

He made his way to you with both items in hand. He stayed back a few feet, the velvet bag swinging slightly at his side. The faint aroma of roasted chicken found your nose, and the delectable smell of it made your mouth water. Copia gazed at you with narrow eyes, his expression unreadable. You lowered your eyes and sucked in a breath, petrified of what was to come. You waited for yelling, cursing, for the food to be thrown at you, anything, but Copia just muttered something under his breath, went to place the plate and bag on the bed, then returned to undo all your restraints. You stood there free with stiff, aching arms. You wanted to stretch them but didn't dare make any movement that Copia might disapprove of. You kept your eyes down, only bringing them up once to see Copia sit on the edge of the bed with the plate in his lap, then darting them back to the floor. You felt the subtle pressure of his gaze on you for what seemed like a long time.

"Come here." Copia finally broke the silence.

You obeyed and took a tentative step forward.

"No." He said sharply, making you freeze, "On your hands and knees. Crawl to me."

Your head jerked up, eyes wide in shocked disbelief. Your breathing hitched, and your heart started to hammer. You hesitated, and Copia frowned at you. He raised his gloved hands and slapped them together once, hard. It sounded like the cracking of a whip in the quiet. "Now, sister."

You let out a little yelp and dropped to your knees. You hurried as you crawled over to Copia, stopping just before his feet. He gave a hum of satisfaction.

"Ah, excellent. You're obedient. That is good, my dear. It will make your ordeal go more smoothly."

Ordeal. The word made you shudder.

"But first, you must be hungry, si? You've been waiting here a long time."

Your stomach let out another grumble. You said nothing. You kept your eyes fixed on the glossy leather of Copa's black shoes as your apprehension deepened. You didn't want to look up at him; all at once, he seemed large, mighty, and terrible, like he could crush you underneath those patent leather soles if he so desired. He could make you suffer, and no one would witness it. It was just you and Copia. You and Papa.

"Say 'yes, Papa' or 'no, Papa,'" Copia said. "And I'm sure I don't need to tell you to be respectful."

"I...I-" You stammered, then you swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself, "Yes, Papa."

"Good girl." He said. "Now, kneel up and look at me."

You did as commanded, and you realized as you looked up at him that you were crying. Through the blur of tears, you saw Copia's hand reach for your face. You flinched a little, then relaxed when you only felt the fingers wipe away your tears and smooth your hair back almost affectionately.

"Oh, come now. I have not been mean just yet, my dear. Don't cry." He soothed, "There will be plenty of time for that later, but if you're well behaved and do what I say, Papa will be gentle with you. Do you understand?"

You nodded, sniffling and letting Copia caress your face. It comforted you, if only a little bit.

"Answer me properly,"

"Yes, Papa. I understand." You said.

"Very good, very good," Copia said. He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead before letting you eat the slices of succulent chicken breast on the plate with your hands. After you finished, he took a sprig of green grapes and fed them to you one at a time. He watched in obvious amusement when you spat the seeds into your hand and timidly discarded them onto the plate, careful of every move you made. When he got to the last three, he took one and held it up just out of your reach. He smiled when you blinked up at him, confused.

"Up, cara," He said, "Show me a trick."

You bit your lip, blushing, and again, you hesitated. You shook your head before you realized what a mistake it was. Immediately, Copia took the plate, set it aside, and then gathered you up to toss you over his lap so that your legs dangled over the floor. You gasped in surprise and fear when he flipped your skirt to expose your panties. When you felt the sting of his gloved hand spank you hard, you couldn't help but let out a cry. One great slap after another fell on your buttocks, sounding thunderous in your ears. You heard yourself taking in sharp gasps of pain with each strike. His hand seemed solid and heavy like a paddle as it spanked you, over and over, hitting you on the right cheek, then the left, and then covering your thighs with smacks while your ass stung and throbbed. You clenched your teeth to stifle your cries, and when you tried in vain to wiggle away, Copia held you in place and rewarded you with more vigorous blows, swift ones that whipped you like a strap. And soon, you realized you were becoming frantic, tears streaming down your cheeks. You tried to be still, but your body squirmed and writhed of its own accord. Now Copia worked only the backs of your thighs, where the punishing hand lingered and struck hard until you were sure that the flesh there was red and inflamed.

"Papa, please!" You finally wailed and broke into choking sobs.

The blows stopped. You didn't move. You just shut your eyes and wept as Copia's hand now moved along your buttocks languidly. He stroked your thighs as if to soothe them.

"Now, do you see why I ask you to do as I say?" Copia crooned, "I can be cruel, sister. Much more than this, I assure you. The other sisters know what I can do, especially Sister Claire. She knows the worst of it. Lucifer's name, she was like a devil herself, all teeth and claws until I tamed her. The other Papas have spoilt her and the others rotten. Not just the sisters, but the brothers, too, and the priests, the bishops. They all have little to no manners, no respect. So I have to take it upon myself to teach them."

You shook against his legs as he told you this. He rubbed little circles in the small of your back, then he squeezed your buttocks, sending a rush of sensation along your body that made you flush. You thought of poor Sister Claire and what she must have gone through that was enough to break her. Vivid images of whipping belts, heavy wooden paddles, and flesh crisscrossed with angry welts made your stomach sink, so you stopped.

'I have to be good.' You thought. It was better to surrender than suffer the same fate as the others, better to leave with your good reputation with Copia intact. After all, he said he would be gentle if you obeyed, and you decided you would. You hoped he would keep his word, and you let your body slacken in resignation.

"I like to play games with them." Copia continued, "I like to order them around the room, fetching whatever I throw for them because it pleases me or whatever else suits my mood. Sometimes I even strap them down and use the paddle. But I never hurt them, not severely. I happen to be a reasonable man, after all. Oh, but that would be too hard for you, wouldn't it? You're too sweet for the paddle, too soft. It's just a pity you disobey me, call me names. Do you think yourself too good to call me by my proper title, sister? Too good to follow my direction?" His hand tightened threateningly on your thigh, then you felt it leave your skin, and you were terrified he might spank you again.

"No, Papa," You said in a panicked whisper.

"Do I need to punish you like the others?"

"No, Papa. I'll be good, I promise."

"Yes," Copia sighed, his hand now playing with your hair instead of punishing you, "You will be perfect for me, won't you?"

"Yes, Papa."

"Good."

Copia pulled you back up and set you on the floor. You had stopped crying, though your lips still trembled. You knelt there and awaited his command. Again, he took a grape and held it up for you. This time you didn't hesitate to take it from his fingers with your mouth. He held the next one high enough to make you raise yourself up on your heels to get it. He then tossed the last grape into the air, over your head so that it bounced and rolled a few feet away when it hit the floor.

"Fetch, little puppy." He commanded, a smirk playing on his lips.

You obeyed shyly. When you crawled back and dropped it into Copia's open hand, he let out a hearty laugh.

"You're easy to train." He said and popped the fruit into your mouth, "Perhaps I should make you my little pet when we're finished here."

You didn't really want to eat it, but you did anyway, seeds and all. Copia beamed at you, his smile genuinely kind.

"Lovely, my dear." He whispered, his voice low and sweet. Then he gathered you in his arms once more and kissed you deeply. It sent a shock through you, settling into a knot in your stomach that made you shiver against your will. Copia kissed the smoothness of your forehead, kissed your soft hairline, your eyelids, and the tip of your nose. They were tender, gentle, like butterflies that brushed against your skin with their silky wings, and you lifted your head to receive them. He kissed your cheeks, then returned to your parted lips. You let out little sighs as he kissed you despite your fear, which now melted away a little bit as your body seemed to soften all over. Copia moved and rose to stand, pulling you up with him into his embrace. He pulled you closer to his body once you were steady on your feet; his kisses left your face to explore along your jaw and the line of your throat. His slim arms were surprisingly strong as they held you, and his lips were soft. They tickled against the sensitive skin of your neck as they trailed down. His hands started to roam your body, stroking your hips, groping at your ass and the backs of your thighs. It sent delightful shivers along your skin and down your spine. It made you feel weak, dissolving, aroused. Any fear you felt a minute ago faded into a haze of sudden lust. You couldn't stop yourself from throwing your arms around his neck and moaning. The action made the kisses harder, more fervent. When you felt Copia open his mouth to bite you here and there as if to taste you, you whimpered, and your body melted all the more. You felt your breasts against his chest, and you wanted to press them to him harder. You almost did when Copia pulled away, slipping out of your arms. The loss of sensation was nearly gutting.

You stood there dazed, swaying, and taking in uneven breaths. Copia's own breath came heavy and deep as he straightened his clothes to disengage himself. You could see his arousal through the tightness of his pants, and you bit your lip. If only your punishment could be just this, but you knew it wouldn't be. Copia appeared to be fighting to contain himself, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Once he was composed, he let out a quiet laugh. It was almost musical in its softness. Your body burned as you watched him, aroused but at the same time fearful of punishment. You would do anything to please him, to keep him gentle like this, so you waited.

"Pardon me, cara. You gave in much faster than I anticipated, and I almost lost myself." Copia said, catching you in his gaze again. His lips spread slowly into a grin when he observed you flushed with desire. "And still, you wait for my command. I admit I didn't quite expect you to be as obedient as you are, and I would reward you, but I want to play one of my games with you first."

Before you could protest, he took the velvet bag off the bed, opened it, and plunged his hand inside. He pulled out a spiked leather collar that looked like it was meant for a large dog. A black leash was affixed to it. You felt your breath leave you when Copia undid the collar and eyed you with a deliberate leer. You swallowed, then lifted your head so that Copia could fasten it onto you. He shook his head.

"Not yet." He said, "Take off your clothes."

Your face burned as you obeyed. You took a few steps back and hurried to shed your dress, slip, shoes, and stockings, but you hesitated yet again once you were in your bra and panties. You felt so naked already, so vulnerable. You didn't know if you could bear it to be completely nude. You tried to shield yourself by bringing your hands up and wringing them. It did little to conceal you. Seeing this, Copia approached and kissed your temple.

"You can keep them on. Now, my little puppy..." He buckled the collar to fit snuggly around your neck and left the leash dangling between your breasts. "You have been very, very good so far, apart from your little slip of decorum, but I want to see just how obedient you can be. You know a well-trained dog always follows its master's commands, yes?"

An icy prickle crawled up your spine, sending shivers through your arms and making your heart clench in your chest before hammering hard again.

"Yes, Papa..." You said as expected though uncertainty and fear laced your voice. Copia rubbed your shoulders, his hands firm and soothing at the same time. His touch made you feel almost woozy, dreamy even in your unease.

"I will make it simple: Tonight, you're my pet, sister, and I am your master. As your master, I will give you commands, and you will do them as perfectly as possible to please me. Do what I tell you, and you will be rewarded. Disobey, and you will be punished. Ah, don't be afraid; I don't think you will disappoint me much, but..." Then he pressed closer to you, leaning in close to your ear so that you felt his breath caress your skin, "I confess I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy spanking that plump bottom of yours." His hand slid down and grabbed your ass before giving it a playful swat. You blushed. You felt the arousal rise in your core again. It flooded in, threatened to sweep you away in its erotic current, and you lowered your head, overcome by shyness. Copia lifted your chin and shook his head at you again.

"No. None of that." He admonished, "I want you to keep your gaze up and your manner attentive. And don't hide your body. I have been fair enough to let you keep your underwear on. Now let me see you." He took both your wrists and forced them down to your sides, then prodded your shoulders so that you straightened your back. You stood erect and grew embarrassed now that your posture didn't hide you. Copia nodded in approval, "Yes, much better."

His eyes roamed up and down your body, taking every inch of you in. You wanted so desperately to cover your stomach, your chest, to tear off the collar. Of course, you didn't dare any of it. You couldn't imagine what he would do to you if you were foolish enough to disobey him again; you didn't even want to think about it.

For a moment, Copia seemed to be thinking, then he smiled. His eyes gleamed like gems in the lamplight. He took the leash and wrapped it around his hand a few times to make it short.

"Clasp your hands behind your back and keep them there. And open your legs wider." He said, then nudged your feet apart until they lined up with your shoulders. You kept your hands behind your back as commanded. It was worse than keeping your hands at your sides. This position arched your body a little more and forced your breasts out. You felt dreadfully exposed, and what was even more excruciating was having your legs apart. But what could you do other than what was commanded? Could Copia be so cruel as to punish you even if you threw yourself at his feet and begged for his mercy? You weren't sure, and you didn't want to risk it. He would have his way, and there was nothing you could do about it. Then you wondered, did you even mind? The pleasure that had built now ebbed away slightly, but it wasn't far from reaching you again. If Copia touched you, it would surely wash over you again. Part of you wanted to drench yourself in that pleasure, to swim and melt in it completely. A corner in your mind wished with all your might that Copia would let you; the rational part of you recoiled at your desire, it being so undignified and sudden. You tried to let your head drop a little, and immediately Copia pulled the leash up with a quick tug that snapped it back in position.

"I said to keep your head up," He said, his voice low, menacing. His hand didn't drop or loosen the leash, so your head remained up. "I will not tell you again, sister. Now be still and don't move until I tell you to."

Copia gazed down at you with such ferocity that you stood rigid and kept your lips pressed together tight. The new Papa was frightening looking but very handsome in the dim light that made his face angular, his eyes even more smoldering. You marvelled at him for a moment, then with a shock, you felt Copia's free hand on you. You felt his fingers trail down the side of your neck and down to your breasts. He grabbed at your right breast, cupping it as if to feel its weight, then kneaded it slowly until it sent shivers through you. His thumb brushed over your now hardening nipple through the material of your bra. He did the same with your left. He then imprisoned the nipple and squeezed it rhythmically between his fingers before reaching for the other to give it the same treatment. A rush of shameful pleasure shot through you and settled between your legs, making your sex grow warm as if it could also blush, and you held back a moan with great effort. Copia pulled on the leash, making you lean slightly closer to him.

"Kiss me," He whispered. As soon as he commanded, you moved to catch his lips in a deep kiss almost too quickly, still keeping your hands behind your back. Copia sucked at your mouth, then opened it with his tongue as his hand went between your open legs and, without warning, stroked your sex through your panties. You uttered a sharp cry against Copia's lips before you could stop yourself. Your body immediately acknowledged him with a twitch of your hips and a soft discharge of fluids while you struggled to swallow another moan. You squirmed, resisting the urge to close your legs with everything you had. Copia broke away from your lips to kiss your earlobe, then he nibbled at it as his hand continued to stroke you. His fingers moved in slow circles now, pressed harder until they found the sensitive mound of your clitoris through the moistening cloth. You gave a soft, open-mouthed gasp and your hips jerked forward in supplication. You wanted to grind yourself on his fingers, rock your hips for more, but the sheer gracelessness of it seemed too much for you. Besides, you weren't sure if it was something he would approve of or chastise, so you stayed as still as you could, your legs starting to shake under your weight. Copia pulled back and smiled at your flushing face, then pulled the crotch of your panties to the side and glided two of his gloved fingers along the delicate folds of your labia. The fingers teased at the moist lips and continued to massage your clit in more circles, even slower ones that drew out the sensation. Breathy moans spilled from your lips. The pleasure washed through you, mounting and mounting as he worked you. Beneath your ecstasy, you felt a twinge of embarrassment at how quickly you had become wet for him. It was forgotten in an instant once Copia slid a finger inside you, then a second. You shuddered and cried aloud. Your sex quivered at the sudden penetration, and your cry melted into a long, low moan. Copia kissed the corner of your mouth.

"That's it," Copia said softly, pulling his fingers out, then sliding them back in slowly. Then again and again. "Don't resist me. Be a good girl for your Papa."

Your hips moved forward at the sound of his voice. Once so frightening, but now smooth and rich as velvet. He was so close to you now, and for the first time, you could smell his cologne. It was warm, spicy, and delicious to you, almost intoxicating. Your eyes stared through heavy lids at Copia's lips. They were full yet strong, set into a faint smile that struck at a cord of desire in you that made the penetration even more pleasurable. You wanted to kiss and kiss those lips until you had your fill. You felt your sex start to throb, and you began to gasp, but before it became too much for you, Copia dropped the leash, withdrew his fingers, and pushed you back, that seductive little smile still there. You let out a disappointed moan that would have been humiliating had you done it to anyone else.

"That's enough for now," Copia said, "Get down on your knees."

Your mind whirled as you let yourself float down until you sat on your heels on the floor, your legs still slightly apart. Your thighs trembled under you, and your throbbing craved relief. You kept your hands behind your back. You feared that if you let them fall to your sides, you would lose control and throw yourself at Copia in desperation. The only thing you allowed yourself to do was writhe, clasping your hands as tight as possible. You felt the wetness of your sex between your legs, sticky, slick, and hot.

You let out a sigh, looking up at Copia, your lips parted, your body wanting more. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor.

"All fours." He ordered.

You fell onto your hands and knees. You arched your back, your buttocks lifted as if to be presented. Your body tingled in arousal at doing so, knowing that Copia could see you doing it. You wiggled your hips a little bit, and you were shocked at your own boldness.

'Fuck it, I don't care. I don't care.' You thought.

Copia stepped forward, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat.

"Good girl," He said, and he crouched down to take a closer look at you, "Does my little puppy want more?"

"Yes, Papa." You said softly, "Please."

"Then I think you should clean up the mess you made." Copia held up the hand that touched you. The gloved fingers were still glistening with your juices. He touched them to your lips, and you took them into your mouth without a thought. You sucked on them, letting your tongue swirl around the digits. The taste of leather and your own fluids mixed with your saliva, and when Copia pulled them away, you swallowed. The flavor lingered, both tantalizing and odd to you.

Copia stood and made an airy gesture to your bottom.

"Wag your hips for me." He said, and he laughed when he saw your face go red, "It's no use being shy now, sister. Unless you want me to take my belt off and make good use of it. You don't want that, do you?"

Your breath caught in your throat. You shook your head.

"That's what I thought. Now, put your face to the floor and swing those hips."

Your face flamed as you lowered it until you all but kissed the floor, your ass high up in the air. You churned your hips and hoped it was pleasing. You felt Copia take the leash from the floor and give it a quick tug.

"Faster. Arch your back more."

You lowered as you were told to do and arched your back almost uncomfortably, your cheek sealed to the floor. A groan escaped you at the touch of the cold stone on your chest. Then in utter submission, any sense of pride, if there was indeed any in the first place, left you, and you wagged your buttocks back and forth like an excited dog wagging its tail for its master. Above you, you heard the creak of the bedsprings as Copia sat. You felt another tug on the leash, and you lifted your head. Copia sat back on the bed with his legs spread apart, the bulge of his erection in full view. Your sex seemed to swell at the sight of it.

"You please me very well, sister," Copia said. He tugged on the leash again to bring you forward. "No more playing. Come here, let Papa reward you."

"Papa..." You whispered. You hurried to him on your hands and knees. You kissed the tops of his shoes on an impulse, then his ankles. Copia didn't protest, so you kissed his knees and dared to run your hands along his inner thighs and kiss them as well. His thighs were rather shapely and solid under his clothes, pleasant to touch. When your hand rubbed over his groin, Copia let out a soft moan. Encouraged, you leaned over and kissed the waist of his pants, still rubbing the bulging sex.

"Undo them." Copia's hand stroked your hair.

You didn't hesitate to undo the button and zipper of his pants. And now you were staring at his cock through his boxers, a small wet spot formed on the dark cloth. Again, you leaned down, placing a little kiss there, then you darted your tongue out and licked it. The hard cock twitched in its prison as if it asked to be free. You looked up at Copia with lustful, inquiring eyes, and you were delighted when he nodded at you.

"Yes, cara. You can touch it."

You pulled the elastic fabric down until his cock sprung free from its confinement. It stood tall and thick. A bead of clear fluid seeped from the tip, and you stared at it, surprised by its length and size. You took it in your hand, stroked it, felt its hardness and warmth. You couldn't help but wonder if the others knew Copia was quite well-endowed. You caressed the shaft up and down, tightening your hand every so often at the base of Copia's cock. Copia moaned as you did so, his head lolling back slightly. Your heart fluttered in your chest. It felt good to know that you gave him pleasure, that you pleased him enough to avoid his wrath and to even reward you. What an honor this must have been! A ripple of relaxation washed over you. You closed your eyes and took the tip of the cock into your mouth, suckling on it before taking it deeper in.

Copia gasped above you and bucked his hips. The action drove the shaft even deeper into your mouth, and you sucked on it hard, bobbing your head with a steady rhythm. It nudged the back of your throat, droplets of salty liquid mixed with the taste of his skin. Copia's thighs shivered, and his breath quickened. You moaned as you continued to push up and down on his cock until his hips started to shake.

"Fuck, sister," Copia grunted, "That's enough!"

He grabbed your hair and pulled your head away. He didn't pull you hard enough to hurt, but you still gasped once you felt the fingers grip your hair. When he released you, he motioned for you to stand. You obeyed.

"Take everything off and lay on the bed." He told you, almost breathless.

The collar was the first to go; you unbuckled it and threw it aside, happy to be rid of the awful thing. You unclasped your bra and let it slip from your shoulders. Though the air was cool on your now naked breasts, your nipples grew hot and erect. A sudden, inexplicable desire to entice Copa came to you as you lowered and stepped out of your panties.

'Do it.' Your lust-clouded mind ordered you, and you did.

When you straightened, you locked eyes with Copia as you ran your hands over your breasts, pushing them together and biting your lip. A dark look flickered across Copia's face, and he stood with a low growl. He snatched your upper arm and yanked you to him.

"You dare tease me in my own room after I've given you an order?" He hissed, then gave a wicked smile, "You must like being punished, sister. But we will save that for another time."

He turned to fling you down onto the bed. You fell back onto the mattress; the sheets and coverlet were soft and plush underneath you. You had little time to enjoy it before Copia descended on you with rough kisses, his hips grinding against yours, his cock prodding at your thigh. His hand grabbed and kneaded your breast hard. But you wanted him so badly that you scarcely noticed how tight his fingers dug into your flesh. He then gave it a cruel slap that drew a loud moan from you. It was an exciting mix of pain and pleasure, and you wanted more.

"Again." You pleaded. You arched your back to offer your chest to him, and you wrapped your legs around his hips. Copia rose from his kisses. It was his turn to lock eyes with you as he lifted his hand and struck you again, just a little bit harder than the first time. You whimpered and squirmed underneath him. Copia positioned and moved his hips so that the shaft of his cock rubbed along your slick pubic lips, grazing your sensitive, engorged clitoris. You strained against him, tried to rock your hips to feel more of that rigid member. Copia looked amused by your torment.

"Tell me what you want." He leaned down again and sucked at your nipples, bit at them playfully with his teeth. Your hands went to cradled his head to you, little sighs and moans leaving you unrestrained.

"Fuck me." You murmured into his hair.

As soon as the words left your mouth, Copia rose, brought his cock to your opening, then drove it into you in one fluid motion. You cried out. Your head fell back, and your body seemed to explode in pleasure. His cock was a thick, piercing thing inside you, bathing in your juices as he drew back and plunged into you. His thrusts were brutal, delivered in almost snapping motions that made the bedsprings creak under you. You heard yourself unleash loud, guttural moans with each solid thrust, wholly overcome by denied passion. Copia buried his face in your neck, his breath making the skin hot as he panted. The agonizing pleasure rose in your core, swelling, ready to erupt in a shower of sparks behind your skull, in your loins. Then all at once, your wet sex tightened around Copia and throbbed violently until you were all but screaming in ecstasy. You clutched Copia while the spasms rolled through you, and you let your legs spread wide, allowing Copia to slam into you unhindered until he also gave a small cry and shuddered above you. Hot, gushing fluid flowed into you and lay you back with your chest heaving in gasps.

Copia pulled out and collapsed beside you. You turned on your side to face him; his features were soft-looking, almost angelic in their exhaustion. His eyes drooped closed, his forehead glistened with sweat. You brushed his disheveled hair back, leaned close, and kissed his brow, tasting the saltiness on your lips before pulling away. Copia opened his eyes, gazed at you lovingly, then took you and cradled you to his chest. The fabric of his suit felt luxurious on your naked skin in the afterglow, and you snuggled close to it, sighing. You both stayed that way for a few minutes, with Copia threading his fingers through your hair. You yawned, and your eyes started to feel heavy.

"We can't fall asleep," Copia said, shaking you a bit to rouse you, "I've kept you here long enough, and the other sisters must be out of their minds with worry by now."

"Yes, Papa." You nodded, sat up, and winced a little. Your privates ached from their hard riding. You tried to hide it, only making a slight noise in your throat. It seemed you couldn't fool Copia, however. He also got up and rubbed your lower back, kissing your cheek.

"Was Papa too rough with you, cara?" He asked. You shook your head.

"No, Papa, I'll be fine. It'll pass." You reassured him.

"Alright, but I will have Cirrus check on you later tonight anyway," He patted your hip, "And what happened here must be a secret. You know this, right? Otherwise, I'd have to gag you and march you through the grounds. It's a little, eh, display, you could say, that I've come up with to officially demonstrate my authority to the others. I have yet to put it into practice, and It'd be unfortunate to have you be its first victim."

You bowed your head, not in fear, but again in reassurance.

"Yes, Papa. I won't tell anyone." You said obediently. You crawled out of bed and gathered your clothes. Copia zipped and buttoned up his pants, then stood as well and straightened his hair.

"Good. Now, get dressed and get back to the convent. Tell the Ghouls to run you a bath when you get there. Say it's my orders, and they'll do it."

"Okay." A bath sounded lovely to you as you redressed. If only Copia could join you...

"And sister," Copia's voice came low, playful. You turned, and you saw his eyes gleam at you. Your pulse quickened.

"Yes, Papa?" You asked.

"Don't forget that I said I would save your other punishment for next time." He winked at you, and your heart soared.

"I won't." You smiled.

"Good girl."

You bid him good night, then left his chamber, secretly hoping that that time would be soon.

#the band ghost #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #ghost bc #popia #copia x reader #copia x f reader #lee's writing #its 1:30 am and im screaming bc ive been working on this fic for months lmao

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dcbutinamrev · 3 years

Note

“Look me in the eyes and repeat what you just said.” 👀👀

Ask and ye shall recieve!

~~~

Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton sits down at the aide-de-camp office with a grunt. He tries to remain his focus on his tasks at hand, completeing more corrospondences for General Washington, shuffling through Lafayette's rough drafts and occasionally checking any spelling errors as the Frenchman is still learning the American language. But he couldn't help but feel his eyes tick up towards the narrowed staircase a few feet behind him. His chest fills with fire, ready to burst.

Hamilton forces his eyes back down towards his papers in hand, yanking the quill near the new aide-de-camp, James McHenry, who was recently added to Washington's staff not long ago. A few days ago perhaps and Hamilton must admit it is a surprise, indeed, that he's caught up with the routine quite quickly. As quick as Laurens.

Hamilton scowls and shivers at the thought of Laurens, his words--hurtful words--echoes through his mind as he clutches onto the quill tightly. He presses his lips together and bites his tongue behind clenched teeth in hopes it would hold back the low growl cojming from the back of his throat. His fingers curl tighter around the stem of the quill as the tip scratches Washington's name near the bottom of the corrospondence.

"Hamilton?" a voice says, snapping him out of his thought. A Southern voice, might he add. It's not as distinct as Laurens' but Hamilton can hear a twinge of the South in the man's voice.

He ticks his eyes towards his peripheral, his brows furrowing together to form a crease in his forehead and swallows hard when he sees Richard Kidder Meade seated beside him with a worried expression upon his face and a hand clamped onto the Caribbean's shoulder. Hamilton relaxes at Meade's touch but still is somewhat tense.

"Kidder..." Hamilton sighs as he runs a hand through his dark red hair and puffs out a breath, his freckled cheeks puffing out as he does so.

Meade smiles softly as he pulls the wooden chair beside him out and slides on down next to him. He folds both arms over his chest and leans against the edge of the table with his head tilted to one shoulder. He presses his lips together, pondering what to say next before finally clearing his throat and leaning back, somewhat relaxed.

"Are you alright, my Little Lion?" Meade says affectionally. In all honesty, Hamilton loves it when his dear friends call him their little lion, especially by Laurens.

Hamilton sighs audibly through his nose, setting his quill down after signing his corrospondence. He shakes his head. "No. I...well...perhaps...."

"Perhaps?"

"Yes...it's just..." Hamilton shakes his head, glancing over his shoulder towards the stairs where Laurens still remains in the bedroom where they shared their last argument. A childish argument, Hamilton thinks. One of Betsey and one of his roles as a soldier and him insisiting I be locked up here like a woman.

"Alexander?" Meade tries again.

Hamilton sighs, finally explaining, "It's Laurens." A pause. Hamilton glances up at Meade, expecting him to question him but thankfully he doesn't. Hamilton continues. "He...he...he and I...we had argument..."

"Oh..." Meade says softly. Hamilton nods.

"Yes." A pause. "I just don't understand him, Kidder. Can't he see how much I care for him? As much as I care for her? As much..."

"Her?" Meade prompts, quirking an eyebrow, though he has a feeling he knows who the "her" is.

"Betsey," Hamilton says, taking a small sip of his coffee before setting it back down. A loopy grin on his face as he sees his beloved newly wedded wife before his eyes, her dark eyes on his, entrancing and almost like a bottomless pit, her dark hair--dark as chocolate--loose around her shoulders. Her pale blue dress down to her waist... "My wife..."

"Ah," Meade says, pating Hamilton's arm. "I'm sure he understands. He knows how much you care for him."

"Yes, but..." Hamilton sighs. "It's..." He glances back up at the stairs, his expression of what was once anger now disappiated into softness. "It's complicated, Kidder, between us." A short pause. "You wouldn't understand."

"I know," Meade says. Hamilton whips his head over his shoulder towards Meade with surprise, his face paling and his blood goes cold. Meade chuckles, causing Hamilton to frown with confusion and tilt his head to one shoulder. Meade, however, continues chuckling and and pats the redhead's shoulder. "I know. Oh, trust me, Alexander, I know. I know love when I see it."

Hamilton swallows but Meade only returns the expression with high, arched eyebrows. Hamilton glances back up at the stairs and instantly scoots his chair back, his chest squeezing as though a hand were clamped around his lungs.

Perhaps there was one.

Hamilton fumbles over the flaps of his buff blue Continental coat as he stumbles his way up the stairs towards his and Laurens' shared bedroom. He slams the door open rather ungentlemanly and marches two steps forward before slamming it shut behind him. He sees Laurens plopped down at the desk where Hamilton would usually work into the late night hours if he had extra work to finish, scribbling something onto paper.

"Stop," Hamilton says, catching his breath, breathing sharply in and out.

Laurens surprising stops without a protest, the tip of his quill hovering above the parchment. Laurens doesn't say anything.

Of course, he doesn't.

He's waiting for an answer. He's wanting Hamilton to answer.

"Stop it, John," Hamilton huffs.

Laurens lowers the quill scarily slowly yet gently as well and cranes his neck of his shoulder to glance at Hamilton before him, both eyebrows high and a small smirk of amusement? on his face.

"Oh? And why should I, Hamilton?" Laurens says. "You've made your point very clear."

As soon as Laurens turns around in his chair, Hamilton rushes forward and instantly dropping down to his knees and grasping both of Laurens's hands in his. Laurens freezes, his eyes narrowed at the paper before him and breathes in slowly, his breath hitched at his throat and holds it in place.

"Enough of this, John," Hamilton whispers, reaching out to tuck back a loose stray honey colored hair behind his ear. "You know where my heart lies."

"And it lies with that woman!" Laurens hisses, barks loud enough to be mistaken as a dog.

Hamilton flinches but tries to remain calm and steady. He never takes his eyes off his beloved Laurens' even though Laurens may take his eyes off of Hamilton himself, avoiding his gaze entierly. Hamilton shakes his head.

"No," he says, catching Laurens' attention. "It lies with you as well."

Laurens opens his mouth to protest but Hamilton promptly cuts him off.

"What is wrong with me loving another as much as I love you?" Hamilton whispers.

"That's not how relationships work, Alexander. You've never been in a relationship with anyone besides me. Haven't you? You don't know what heartbreak is like."

Hamilton feels his lips twist into a tight scowl and scoots foward onto his knees so he's in between Laurens' legs, his hands still clutched into his. He gives it a firm shake as he snarls, his eyes eyes twitching, "Look me in the eyes and repeat to me what you've just said."

Silence.

"I have experienced heartbreak throughout my childhood, John," Hamilton explains in a quick, hushed voice. Almost like a snake. "My father abandoned me when I was ten. My mother died because of an illness the doctors couldn't treat while I survived. My cousin committed suicide not long after my brother and I moved in with him. My brother, the only person I had left, was seperated from me. A hurricane destroyed my fucking home. Demolished it. Burned it to ashes! Killed thousands and thousands of people...innocent people...John."

A pause.

"So don't you dare tell me what heartbreak is like, I know what heartbreak is like."

"That's besides the point," Laurens growls. "That's different. I'm not talking about that. If you would just stop blabbering and just simply listen."

Hamilton growls low, yanking his hands off of Laurens and standing upright, placing his hands on his hips now. "Well then perhaps you should do the same."

Laurens pushes himself up from the chair and towers over Hamilton, so Hamilton has to shrink slightly. Laurens folds his arms over his chest.

"You did the exact same thing he did," Laurens growls as he shakes his head, blinking his eyes. His voice cracks, causing a spear to go through Hamilton's heart. "Claimed you loved me. Say that you loved me. And I thought you were mine, you said you were mine! I...I wanted..."

"And you are!" Hamilton whimpers, cupping both of Laurens' stubbled cheeks in his palms. He searches the blonde's face, his eyes ticking back and forth quickly. "You are, John! You are mine and you always will! I love you...so much...just as much as I love Betsey!"

"No!" Laurens snaps. "You stated yourself there was no one you loved but her!"

"I had to say that, John! I had too!" Hamilton cries. "We were surrounded by the others! You know..." Hamilton pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs out a breath, trying to calm himself. "John...I love you..."

"No," Laurens says instantly. Hamilton sniffs and glances back up at him. Laurens rests a strong hand onto Hamilton's freckled cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping away a stray tear Hamilton didn't realize had escaped. Laurens smiles, though the anger and annoyance is still clear in his bright blue eyes, and leans down to press a kiss to the edge of Hamilton's mouth, his nose nudging against his cheek. "You should be married." Hamilton lets his eyes flutter shut as Laurens pecks his earlobe and whispers, "For both of our sakes."

"Jack--" Hamilton begins but Laurens cuts him off with a sudden kiss.

Hamilton hisses sharply through his nose, taken aback and completely off-guard. He lets his eyes slip closed and slowly lifts both hands up to squish Laurens' cheeks together while Laurens lets his hand slide down Hamilton's sides and grip his wrist, pulling him close so his chest nearly touches the blonde's.

Laurens tilts his head, trying to find a perfect angle, letting his lips trail down the side of Hamilton's neck and up his jaw. Hamilton grips Laurens shoulders to keep himself steady as he tilts his head to the side to allow Laurens room. Laurens, however, gets a little greedy, needy and slams Hamilton against the closed bedroom door, pinning his arms to the side as he kisses the redhead's lips, his knee nudging agianst Hamilton's inner thigh, causing Hamilton gasp sharply with surprise. Laurens grins with triumph, the corners of his lips quirking up.

"John..." Hamilton gasps against Laurens' rough, yet soft rosy pink lips. "John!"

"My apologies," Laurens sighs as he pulls back, pressing his forehead against Hamilton's. "Do not leave me, my dear boy."

Hamilton hums, a small smile on his face, slowly opening those breathtaking deep blue eyes. Laurens' heart flutters and his breath hitches in his throat when he sees flecks of violet in those deep ocean blue irises.

"I won't leave you," Hamilton promises. He pauses, furrowing his brows in thought as he scratches Laurens' light stubble with his fingers. "But..." Laurens raises both eyebrows, gesturing him to continue. "You have to promise me not to leave me as well."

Laurens breathes in sharply. A curt nod.

"I promise."

That will be a lie.

#asks #ask liz #prompts #fics #ficlet #requests #writing #liz writes #melissa!#lams #historical lams #alexander hamilton #john laurens #hehehe suffer <3 #angst #amrev #read more

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fanficshiddles · 4 years

Text

This wasn’t part of the plan, Chapter 10

Tom marched Melody down the corridor, a firm hand on the back of her neck.

As they were walking, one of the classroom doors opened. Tom quickly dropped his hand and smiled innocently with a nod of his head when a fellow teacher emerged.

When they arrived at his office, he opened the door and put his hand to her lower back, guiding her in. As soon as she stepped into his room, she felt like she had just entered the lion’s den.

‘Sit down, Melody.’ He said, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

She reluctantly sat down, and Tom instead of sitting at the other side of the desk on his chair, he moved right on front of her and perched on the desk with his arms folded over his chest. He was far too close for her liking.

‘Why are you avoiding me?’ He asked.

She refused to look up at him, just concentrated on her hands in her lap, fiddling with the bottom of her jacket. ‘I’m not avoiding you, Sir, I’ve just been busy.’ She said quietly.

‘Look at me when I am speaking to you, Melody.’ He said firmly.

Her skittish eyes shot up to land on his, she was a little surprised to see that he didn’t look all that angry. Just a little pissed off, and was that also slight disappointment, too?

‘You’ve not returned my calls. And you have most definitely been avoiding me during class. Why? I thought things were going well between us. Did I do something to upset you?’ His tone was slightly softer than it had been previously.

‘No, you’ve not done anything… I just, I’m really struggling to come to grips with you being Mr Hiddleston and you being Tom, too. It’s just freaking me out a bit, after a good weekend and then coming back to you as my teacher. I’m struggling.’ She blurted out quickly, hoping honesty was the best way.

Especially when you’re being an ass in the classroom. She wanted to add, but thought better of it.

Tom’s frown softened majorly upon her confession. He rubbed his temples momentarily then reached out and gently gripped her chin. ‘I am still the same person. The only thing is that I am your teacher, that hasn’t changed and won’t change. I will not have favourites in class, I am treating you the same as everyone else.’

‘I know… I know that, but… you’re not the warmest of teachers, if I may be so bold.’ She gulped, hoping she wasn’t over stepping the line.

Tom chuckled, to her relief. ‘I know. But aside from with you, I am not supposed to be making friends with my pupils. I am supposed to be an authority figure, giving you all the best education that I can possibly give.’ He leaned back and folded his arms over his chest again.

Melody was briefly distracted with the way his biceps were almost bulging out of his shirt.

‘Besides, we do not want anyone getting suspicious. Do we?’

She shook her head. ‘No, we don’t. I’m sorry, it’s just taking me a little longer to get accustomed than I thought.’

Tom stood up and walked over to the sofa, he sat down and patted the space next to him. ‘Come here, baby girl.’ He said firmly but also in a comforting tone.

Melody felt her stomach flip at his nickname for her. She wasn’t feeling quite as nervous as she had been at first, so she didn’t hesitate and went to sit next to him.

He surprised her when he put his arm around her and pulled her in against his side. He was warm and comfortable to snuggle against, she slipped her arm around him too. Tom rubbed her shoulder and rested his chin on top of her head.

‘If you’re feeling nervous or antsy, I want you to come to me. Not avoid me. What I am while we are here, is not what I am in private with you. It’s separate, I need to keep being your teacher. Unless it would make you feel better if I got you into another English class?’ He suggested, though he didn’t want that.

‘No, I… I will get used to it. Eventually. You’re a good teacher, I don’t want to change classes.’ She said quietly.

‘Glad to hear it. You’re just going to need to behave impeccably while in my class.’ He chuckled and squeezed her upper arm.

‘Are you free tonight?’ Melody asked, looking up at him.

‘I am. What do you have in mind?’ Tom smiled, glad she was the one suggesting something.

‘I don’t know… I could cook dinner, if you want?’

‘That would be lovely.’ Tom nodded, he gripped her chin and turned her head towards him so he could kiss her softly on the lips, making her heart flutter.

Melody was feeling a little bit better after their talk in Tom’s office. She was just going to have to try and separate Tom from Mr Hiddleston. Though she knew that would be easier said than done, but she was going to try. She hoped it would maybe get easier as time went on, the more time she spent with Tom the easier it should get.

She was a bit anxious while she cooked dinner, hoping it would go well and that Tom would like it. She wasn’t sure where the need to please him had come from, but there was certainly something brewing inside her.

A knock on the door made her jump, but she snapped out of it and rushed to unlock the door. It was Tom, as expected. He had brought a bottle of wine with him.

‘Wine, on a school night?’ Melody grinned.

‘Just a little won’t do any harm.’ He winked at her.

Melody was relieved that Tom seemed to enjoy dinner. She wasn’t used to cooking for other people. Just for herself usually. And even then she barely cooked from scratch, since it was mainly quick oven or microwave meals she used to have.

They found themselves on the sofa after dinner, having a glass of wine each.

‘Do you still find me scary?’ Tom asked, stroking her hair back from her face.

‘Mmm… A little.’ She blushed and attempted to hide behind her wine glass.

Tom raised an eyebrow and promptly plucked the wine glass from her hands and placed it on the coffee table on front of them. He sat back and patted his thigh. ‘Come here.’

She looked at him as if he had just asked her to give him a strip tease. Which for Tom, wasn’t such a bad idea. But he knew she would run for the hills if he asked for that.

‘Come here, Melody.’ He said in a firmer tone.

She swallowed hard and moved over towards him. He slid an arm around her and pulled her onto his lap, then positioned her how he wanted her. With her back flush against his front. He reached around and pushed her legs apart so they were at either side of his.

‘What are…’ She trailed off when his hands started wandering over her, especially under her skirt and up her thighs.

‘Relax.’ He purred into her ear then kissed her neck just below her earlobe. ‘Put your hands up behind my neck.’

She did as she was told, feeling pretty vulnerable again in that position. It forced her chest out more.

He cupped her through her knickers, making her gasp. She could still feel the heat and power from his hand, even with the layer of fabric between them.

Melody closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, relaxing more against him as he started rubbing her. He nuzzled against her neck. ‘Good girl.’ His free hand became busy as he slid into her top and bra to start gently squeezing her breasts.

Her eyes flew open again though when Tom moved his hand so he could delve into her knickers, explore her more with his long fingers. When he brushed across her clit, she gasped and her body jerked.

‘So sensitive.’ He chuckled low and kissed her neck again.

His thumb started to concentrate more on her nipples, constantly alternating between them both. He did the same action with her clit, his thumb rubbing firmly over the little nub. Her squirming was becoming stronger and she was running her fingers through his hair now, feeling a bit braver. Or losing herself in the pleasure.

Melody was so close to cumming as soon as Tom slipped two fingers into her tight warmth to wriggle them around. His thumb still planted firmly on her clit.

‘That’s it, you are going to cum for me, baby girl. Cum for Daddy.’ He growled and nibbled on her shoulder.

Melody was a bit startled at what he said. But she wasn’t sure if it was that or from what he was doing that sent her over the edge. But whatever the reason was, it felt incredible.

Tom was pleased with himself when she moaned and writhed in pleasure on his lap. It felt good having her wriggling about on him, rubbing against his cock that was hard in its confinements. He slowly eased off on his fingering and when he pulled out, a rush of her arousal came too and made a mess all over his trousers.

‘How about we take this to the bedroom, baby girl?’ He whispered, nuzzling behind her ear.

Melody nodded, she wasn’t quite able to form words yet. Her mind was still reeling from the orgasm.

Tom stood up and scooped her into his arms at the same time. He carried her through to her bedroom and placed her gently down on her bed. After making short work of removing her clothes, he grinned and winked at her while he took off his own. Melody’s eyes widened and she bit her lower lip when she saw that he had gone commando.

He crawled onto the bed and her legs fell open naturally for him. He positioned himself between her and took hold of his cock, lining himself up with her. He’d already worked her up nicely, so he thrust right in with ease.

The two started moaning together straight away. Tom leaned down over her more, pressing his body against her. He enjoyed feeling her hard nipples pressing into his chest as she wrapped her arms around him.

He placed his forearms at either side of her head on the bed, trapping her in and anchoring himself as he started to move. His pace was deep and fast, bottoming out with every thrust. Melody started arching up and meeting each one. That was, until, every so often he would stop and grind against her deeply, hitting all the right spots.

Tom pressed his lips to hers and they kissed sloppily while lost in their passion together. Melody couldn’t get over how good he felt inside her. She kept clenching around him deliciously, making him falter with his rhythm.

When she quickly came for the second time, it was around his cock that made her orgasm sooo much stronger. And Tom came too with a loud grunt, spurting deep inside her and coating her inner walls. He latched onto her lips again until he finished twitching and slowly pulled out of her. She could feel his sperm dribbling out and down all over her thighs.

She was in a complete daze, even when he moved to lie down on his side next to her and pulled her with him, keeping her close, she still couldn’t quite think straight.

Tom trailed his fingers up and down her bare back, their breathing was rapid but it was slowly easing back to normal.

Melody’s mind then suddenly floated back to when Tom had referred to himself as Daddy. That had confused her a little. She knew that he was her sugar Daddy. But she wasn’t really sure in what way Tom had meant it.

That was something she was definitely going to ask him in the morning. Because right now, she was far too exhausted after the mind-blowing orgasms to form coherent sentences.

#Tom Hiddleston #fan fiction #teacher Tom #sugar daddy Tom #this wasn't part of the plan

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talpup · 4 years

Text

Light In the Darkness: 65

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud. He knew there would be trails. He knew trouble would come his way. Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant. What he didn’t know. Didn’t expect. Was that literal Chaos would come his way. That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble. Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Sorry for the delay. Despite the bad first day of vacay, it's been a busy and awesome vacation. Finally got a bit of a breather to post this weeks update. Hope it was worth the wait and you all enjoy.

*Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

If you’re wanting some explicit Yami and Teris I added another one shot 'A Lesson In Shutting Up' (can be found here and on ao3).

Chapter 65

As soon as Teris left the breakfast table, Tobin leaned over to Yami. “So, what are your plans for today? Can Venice and I tag along?”

“No.” Yami said, pushing his plate away.

Tobin smirked at that. “What do you got in mind? What’s Yami Sukehiro’s ideal birthday?”

“A day without you in it.” Yami said, eyes sliding over to him.

Venice laughed. Gendry chuckled from Yami’s other side. Even Bran smirked, though he ducked and turned his head so Tobin wouldn’t call him on it.

“I’m gonna let that pass cause it’s your birthday.” Tobin allowed.

“And cause I outrank you.” Yami commented, grinning.

“Quit being an ass. What are you gonna do?” Tobin questioned.

Yami shrugged a shoulder, turning to watch Teris head down to the kitchens. “Whatever I want.”

“You mean whatever she’ll let you get away with.”

“Oui! Watch it.” Venice snapped, throwing a biscuit across the table at Tobin.

“Venice is right. A ladies virtue should never be referred to or hint at.” Olsen said.

“It’s talk like that that’s the reason you’re not gonna be next Vice Captain.” Tobin told. “You think Jax wants some flowery talker beside him? You’re an embarrassment enough as it is.”

“I’d rather not be Vice Captain. Would take too much time away from my beloved.” Olsen said.

“Who is from the Blue Rose?” Venice guessed.

Olsen shook his head. “Try again my fiery beauty.”

“Just stop guessing, Venice. He doesn’t have a beloved. Least not one who’s real or loves him back.” Tobin said.

Ignoring Tobin, Venice tried again. “Mereoleona?”

Olsen’s brows pulled together. “I think not. Don’t get me wrong. All women are lovely in form and manner in their own way. But the Crimson Lions Captain is not my type.”

“Doubt you’re her type either.” Yami remarked, thinking the Royal Lioness would stomp Olsen’s ass the moment he tired calling her a fiery beauty.

“And what is your type? Imaginary?” Tobin teased the Water Mage.

“She’s real!” Venice stressed. “I know she is. He just won’t tell me who she is.”

“Who won’t tell you what?” Teris asked, returning.

“Olsen’s girlfriend.” Venice complained.

“The love of my life.” Olsen smiled.

Teris fought a grin at that.

The corner of Yami’s lips ticked up, knowing Teris knew who Olsen’s girlfriend was. Pushing to his feet, he asked her. “You ready?”

“How can I be ready when I don’t know what I’m suppose to be ready for?” Teris asked, only mildly upset that Yami had stubbornly refused to tell her anything of his plans for the day.

Yami smirked and looked her over. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“When you’re looking at me like that, it’s hard to trust you.” Teris quipped, following him.

“Have fun.” Venice smiled at Teris, watching the two head for the dining room door.

“It’s my birthday.” Yami called back to Venice. “I’m the one that’ll be having fun. There’s no guarantee Teris will.”

“You two need to be back an hour before lights out.” Jax said, trying not to worry about them heading out alone for the first time since the solstice.

“Yeah, yeah.” Yami said, taking Teris’ hand and pulling her along when she slowed.

“And remember what Julius said about—that other stuff.” Jax yelled after Yami, too embarrassed to say necking, kissing, and groping.

Yami didn’t slow his steps. Even when they were outside of the house and halfway down the path to the kennels.

“What’s the hurry?” Teris laughed, trying to keep up with Yami’s longer stride.

Instead of answering, Yami spun around and pulled her close, lips latching onto hers. His blood rushed south at her muffled, high pitched sound of surprise. Before she could even recover enough to return the kiss, his tongue was pressing into her mouth.

Teris’ need for him ignited at the passionate kiss. With the way everyone had been worrying over them, they had only had a few stolen moments alone since returning from Healer’s Hall nearly three months ago. Even then they had been too weak to do much but sit and hold each other for a good portion of that time. They had had even less time together in the little more than three plus weeks since Gilly had deemed them fully recovered; other than their scars which she said would need more time to completely fade.

Leaning into him, Teris’ tongue mingled with his. Her hand ran up his arm and around his shoulder. The other hand gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down and closer.

Yami gave a throaty hum. His hands dragged down her back to her butt, squeezing and lifting her to her toes. Her nails raked down his shoulder, grabbing his bicep. Yami deepened the kiss, hips instinctively pressed forward.

Breathless, Teris pulled her head back. A growl reverberated in Yami’s chest at the broken kiss. One of his hands lifted and cupped her face, tugging her back to feed on her lips.

Teris moaned into his mouth. Too soon she was pulling away again. “Yami.”

Yami moved to her neck, focusing on the spots he knew made her melt.

“That’s not fair.” Teris chastised, lightly. Hands on his chest, she tried to hold him at bay, all be it not very hard.

“It’s my birthday.” Yami rasped, laving her hot sensitive pulse point. “I say what’s fair.”

“Yami.” She tried again, body pressing into him of its own accord. “We—we should stop.”

“Not yet.” His lips trailed down to her collarbone. “I promise. I wanna wait too. But I need you.” His fingers trailed down her back.

Teris arched against him, even as her hands pressed at his chest.

Grabbing her hips, he pulled her against him.

Teris gasped at the feel of his hard length. Unlike the embarrassed, discomfort she had when her hand had accidentally touched Nozel; a heated excitement rushed though her setting every nerve in her body on pleasured fire. The pulsing tingle of her core grew, making her clench. She whined, a wetness seeping through to dampen her underwear. Her legs squeezed together in effort to satiate some of the need.

Their positions changed as it was now Teris who pressed, Yami taking a step back. She followed, rising to her tiptoes as he straightened to his full height.

Teris’ hand wrapped around his neck, the other tugging at his shoulder as she nibbled and licked at his neck.

Yami’s arms disobeyed his greater mind and once again wrapped her. His hands fisted as he fought not to grab and lift her up into his arms.

“Teris.” Yami warned, his deep baritone making her tremble with further desire.

Teris’ fingers tugged at his hair, while her other hand trailed slowly down his muscled arm. “I know you said no presents. And I didn’t get you anything. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have something to give. Don’t you want it now?” She asked, eyes somehow both innocent and carnal.

Yami’s breath caught in his chest. Had she just referred to herself as his gift? And she had called him unfair. His mouth latched onto hers. He reached under her arm, other hand grabbing her ass, and lifted her up.

Teris’ arms wrapped around his neck, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Yami’s excitement grew at having to angle his head up to kiss her, knowing all he had to do was right his head to have access to her heaving breasts. Much as he wanted to do that, he was able to keep control and deny himself. What he wasn’t able to control was his feet which stepped to the nearest tree, sandwiching Teris between him and the trunk.

Teris’ dancing hips bumped against his straining need. Yami growled and hefted her higher. His hips thrusted into the air below her, abdomen pounding against her core. Pulling away from her lips, his nose brushed hers.

Pressing his forehead to hers, he told. “Don’t tease me like that, Princess. It’s dangerous.”

Teris eyes widened, shocked at her own actions. Had she really just called herself Yami’s present?

Yami smirked at her blushing embarrassment. His mouth opened to tell her she had nothing to be embarrassed about. That she was the only gift he desired, and couldn’t wait to enjoy unwrapping her when the time came. But the sound of voices stopped him.

Teris heard them too. Her blush of embarrassment grew, as if they had been caught. Tapping at his shoulder, she whispered hoarsely. “Yami. Put me down.”

Yami was tempted to tease and ask what happened to his gift. But he relented, setting her on her feet.

Teris quickly straightened her blouse. A flash of red caught her eye, along with an all too familiar blue. “Is that--” She caught sight of Fuegoleon and Nozel headed up the main path toward the house. Before Yami could stop her, she called out. “Leon!”

Fuegoleon turned, grateful to have found her. He marched down the secondary path toward her. “I was hoping you were in.”

Seeing the worried tension in the Crimson Lion, Teris stepped passed Yami. “What’s the matter? What happened?”

“Duty calls.” Nozel told, eyes narrowing at her reddened lips and mussed hair.

“There’s been a call for the royals and higher nobles to gather at the Kings Castle.” Fuegoleon clarified.

Teris’ eyes widened.

“It would have been better it you were dressed properly but it can’t be helped. There’s no time.” Nozel said, pointing out the fault that he could mention, unwilling to comment on her clear disarray.

“She’s a Magic Knight. She’ll be fine.” Fuegoleon dismissed. “Teris. Come on.”

“But—the Captain.” Teris argued, thinking she had to tell Jax she was going to Castle City.

“He’ll know what’s going on and where you are soon enough. Let’s go!” Fuegoleon urged.

Teris looked back at Yami, the hurried situation making her flustered and stutter. “I—I’m s—sorry.”

As disturbed as he was by all this, Yami sought to soothe her. Giving a crooked smile, he told. “I’ll let you make it up to me.”

Glaring at Yami, Nozel frowned at Teris’ blush.

“Nozel!” Fuegoleon barked, getting the Silver Eagles attention.

Nozel created an eagle of mercury beneath them and took to the air. As soon as it rose high enough that Teris and Fuegoleon couldn’t see, a tendril of mercury lashed out.

Mind still consumed by the feeling of Teris rutting against him, Yami didn’t dodge soon enough. The mercury struck him in chest. He grunted, thrown back. His head and body bounced off a nearby tree. Hitting the ground hard, Yami ignored the stinging pain and laughed at the cheap shot.

Teris looked back, wondering what he was laughing at.

Nozel’s lip curled. He wanted nothing more than to rain mercury down on the brutish foreigner. Doubt he’d be laughing then, the Silver Eagle thought as he set for Castle City.

65.2

“Captain!” Bronn stepped through a portal and into the Black Bulls great room. “Jax!”

“Quit yelling. I’m right here.” Jax griped. His head still pounded from his morning sparring session with the Green Mantis Captain. Win’s toxin magic was a bad match for his rock magic to go up against; but that was precisely why he irregularly sparred with the man. Out in the field you rarely had the option of picking the foe and magic you faced. He saw Yami pass through and questioned him before Bronn could speak. “You and Teris back already?”

“Never went.” Yami said, glancing at Bronn who clenched his fists and ground his teeth at their Captain. “He’s gonna burst if you don’t let him speak.”

“What happened?” Jax asked, still ignoring Bronn. His heightened worry since the Summer Solstice made him wonder if the two had found trouble; while the other side of him hoped Yami hadn’t caused any.

Seeing Bronn open his mouth to try and speak, Yami quickly answered. “The Lion Cub and Ball of Pride came for Teris. Something about duty and heading over to the castle.”

“The castle? As in the Royal Castle?” Jax asked.

“Fuegoleon said something about the Kings Castle.” Yami told the Captain.

“The Kings Castle? That can be good.” Jax muttered.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell! If you two would shut up!” Bronn burst. “The King’s calling for war.”

65.3

Recognizing the three royals, the Castle Knights let Nozel, Fuegoleon, and Teris pass, saluting the two Princes. Teris took in the accustomed change of demeanor that happened every time Nozel and Fuegoleon entered the royal palace.

Nozel, who was always distant, cold, and regal became even more so as they walked the wide, sprawling hall that led to the throne room. While she should have been use to it by now, it still unnerved and bothered Teris the way Fuegoleon donned what she thought of as his royal persona; becoming more, dare she say, Nozel like. She had always wondered why he did so. It wasn’t as if Fuegoleon was in any way improper or lacking in royal dignity when he behaved as he usually did. As much as she loved and esteemed Mereoleona, the Crimson Lions Captain was usually anything but a proper royal. Yet Teris had never seen her change mannerisms to fit some expected royal part.

Sadly, Fuegoleon and Nozel hadn’t known anything about what was going on passed Mereoleona interrupting their scheduled sparring session ordering them to fetch Teris and head directly to the royal palace. They wouldn’t have even known where in the Kings Castle they were suppose to go if it wasn’t for the other ranking members of the kingdom filing into the throne room.

“Teris.” Julius called, seeing his sister. He made his way to her. “I’m glad they caught you before you headed out.”

Teris felt her cheeks warm thinking that her and Yami had almost been caught in an entirely different sort of way. It struck her that Julius would have known what Yami had planned, given the stupid, unfair rules her brother had set. She wondered if Julius would let them take another day to go out alone together considering that today had been ruined.

“What’s going on?” Teris asked her brother, Nozel and Fuegoleon just as curious.

“I don’t know. But it can’t be good.” Julius said.

“The King?” Fuegoleon asked.

“In the inner throne room. Sir Jorah is there.” Julius answered.

Fuegoleon and Nozel eased a bit at that. Their worst fears put to rest. With their families being so close to the throne, King Agustus’ life and well-being greatly effected their own lives and possible future.

“I was in Sir Jorah’s office for a meeting when the summon for him came. The Royal Herald told me I should come as well. That all the royals were being called to the palace. It’s why I contacted Mereoleona and asked if she could send Leon over to fetch you.” Julius went on, not saying what they both already knew. That her age and rank within the family, along with House Nova’s rank itself meant she never would’ve been called otherwise.

Seeing his son as he passed their small group, Nathyn Silva beckoned. “Nozel.”

Nozel looked to his father. Understanding that he was meant to follow, he turned, knuckles brushing the back of Teris’ hand as he did as he was bid.

“That was quick.” Fuegoleon remarked, watching Lord Silva make his way to the front of the throne room. The man looking neither right or left, as people parted for him, many giving bows or curtsy’s of respect.

“The Royal Heralds sent to inform the heads of House likely brought them back to the palace using transportation charms.” Julius said.

At Julius’ comment Teris glanced about looking for Fyntch. If Nozel had seemed displeased about having to bring her in pants instead of a proper dress, she’d didn’t want to think about Fyntch’s reaction.

Seeing her darting eyes, Julius told. “Fyntch and Lord Linux were sent on a diplomatic mission to the Heart Kingdom a week ago and aren’t expected back for at least another two.”

Fuegoleon blinked. Though not surprised, he was slightly perturbed that he hadn’t known about his uncle’s absence from the kingdom.

Arguably he and Nozel were more closely related than he and Teris. Though he and Teris shared blood, distant and diluted as it was, where as he and Nozel didn’t. Uncle Linux’s wife was the late Lady Acier’s sister. He wondered if Lady Analeigh Vermillion would be here to represent that side of the family in Linux’s place. Or if she would bring Kirsch. Not that it was necessary as he was certain not every family was expected to attended whatever this was. His father’s presence as head of House Vermillion would likely suffice for all the lesser Vermillion lines.

Thinking about his father, Fuegoleon looked about.

“There you are.” Mereoleona said, making her way to her brother. “Ah, good you caught her in time.”

Mereoleona’s phrasing had Teris asking. “Did you know Yami’s plans for today too?”

“All I knew was that Julius said I had to hurry to catch you.” Mereoleona said.

Julius frowned at his sister. After setting the rules he had, why would Teris think he’d tell Mereoleona about Yami’s birthday plans with her? Yami had had to work to convince him into allowing the two to go out. Julius had needed to know every single thing Yami had planned for the day. Even then, even knowing where they would be and what they would be doing, Julius had almost said no. The events of the solstice, coupled with the attempt on Yami’s life by Nathyn Silva, had left Julius overly protective of the two. In the end Yami had convinced him to allow it, making several clear and extensively detailed promises.

Mereoleona smirked at Teris. She was about to tell Julius to come off it when the Kings knights entered. “Leon. With me. Father’s already in place. Julius. Like it our not. I suppose you’ll be standing where the head of House Nova should be.”

Julius looked away, uncomfortable at the thought. He straightened his shoulders and lifted his head, calling Teris to follow.

As the oldest royal house in the Clover Kingdom the Nova’s were positioned directly behind House Silva who stood ahead of everyone else, making up the first row that stood before and to the right of the throne. Across the center aisle and to the left of the throne were the Vermilion's. Lord Leonidas, stood in the front row with his son and heir, Fuegoleon to his right and Mereoleona to his left.

Despite what Mereoleona had said, Julius stood in what had become his regular position behind Nozel who stood to Lord Silva’s right. The open space behind Lord Silva conspicuous in its emptiness.

The Kings Chamberlain pounded his staff on the floor, calling the place to silence and order. “Royal and Noble Lords and Ladies. Bow for your King.” Horns sounded. The doors of the inner throne room opened. “His Most Gracious and Honorable Royal Majesty King Agustus Kira Clover.”

The men took a knee, the ladies curtsying even lower then their lords. Teris nearly curtsied out of habit; but remembered she wasn’t wearing the accustomed dress. She quickly stole a glance at Mereoleona who also wore her regular clothes. Seeing the Crimson Lion Captain kneel like the men, Teris followed suit. The act of kneeling felt weird yet much more comfortable than what the ladies were expected to do. Sinking to the ground without taking a knee while wearing fifteen to twenty extra pounds worth of cumbersome clothing wasn’t easy.

The King entered and made his way to the throne. Turning, he looked over and down upon the gathered royals and higher ranking nobility. It always gave Agustus immense pleasure to see the mass of otherwise proud nobles and royals bowing and scrapping before him. Slowly. Deliberately. He took the to the gilded throne, eyeing the Wizard King as he entered.

Sir Jorah knelt before the King then rose his feet and took his position behind the right side of the throne.

Agustus gave the Chamberlain a wave. The man once again struck his staff against the marbled floor. Lifting their heads the royals and nobles rose to their feet.

“We have declared war upon Morris and his Diamond Kingdom.” The King stated, using the royal ‘we’. “The actions of his Magic Warriors during the Battle at the Border on the first of January were more than enough reason for it. But,” Agustus’ eyes slid to Jorah, “we were gracious enough to forgive if King Morris apologized to us for his men entering our kingdom en masse and committing violence against the citizens of our kingdom. Our charitable act was not only ignored but spurned most vilely. Royal and noble Magic Knights! Your beloved King and kingdom have been denigrated most imprudently. Will you stand by and let the disgraceful Morris King shame and dishonor your beloved King and country?”

“No, my King.” Sir Jorah and the present Magic Knights answered in unison snapping to attention and saluting.

“Will you fight, even to the last man, to restore your beloved King and kingdoms honor? Showing those in the Diamond Kingdom and King Morris himself what happens when our generosity is scorned and our wrath and displeasure are ignited!”

“Yes, my King.”

Agustus stood and looked at the Magic Knights mixed within their civilian families. He made his way down two of the three steps that led up to the throne. “Lord Silva.”

Nathyn stepped forward. “My King.”

“Your family is second in the kingdom.”

“An honored we are proud and thankful of, my King.” Nathyn intoned.

“With that honor comes expectations.” Agustus said, lifting his chin.

“Whatever my King commands. House Silva will do without fail.” Nathyn swore.

“I hope so.” Agustus said. “Bring you son and stand before me.”

Nathyn and Nozel did as they were told, Nozel staying a step behind his father. Teris watched with a sense of foreboding. She glanced over at Fuegoleon on the other side of the aisle, seeing a look of concern in his violet eyes.

Nathyn and Nozel bowed before their King staying that way till Agustus gestured for them to rise.

“As we have no son of our own to right this wrong. We expect yours, as the closest serving Magic Knight to the throne to bring us satisfaction in this war.”

“Of course, my King.” Nathyn said, bowing again, Nozel following suit. The two men straightened. “It would be House Silva’s pleasure and honor to do so. Would you like my son to bring Your Majesty, King Morris’ head?”

Teris’ heart clenched at Nathyn Silva’s words. Did the man wish Nozel dead?

Before King Agustus could speak, Jorah stepped forward. “My Lord Silva. His Royal Highness is a powerful and highly capable Magic Knight who as risen through the ranks at an impressive pace. But Nozel is still a fourth ranked Senior Magic Knight. Never mind that killing King Morris would throw us into war for decades, if not generations. The Diamond Kingdoms Prince may be young but his regents would seek vengeance. Regicide is hardly a precedent we wish to set as it will only encourage them to look to our own beloved King for retribution.”

Agustus looked at the Wizard King. “Have doubts that you can do you job and protect me, Jorah? Feeling your age? Maybe it’s time to step aside and let someone less tired take your place.”

Julius’ hands clenched at the Kings unnecessary and cutting remarks. Such a rude lack of gratitude for such a great and loyal mans years of service was appalling.

Jorah showed no sign of hurt or ire at the Kings words. Inclining his head, the Wizard King said. “My King, I will serve and protect you for as long as I feel able and hail enough to do so. But if Your Esteemed Majesty doubts my capabilities then please, my King, say so and I will step down this instant.”

Agustus waved Jorah off. “You are so sensitive, Jorah. You will keep your position and stay by my side during this time, protecting and serving me as you have done for me and the late King before.” He turned back to Nathyn. “Lord Silva, as much as your offer pleases us, Sir Jorah has a point. Regicide is not a precedent we wish to set. That said, we are making a war time decision. Your son will be made an acting Magic Knights Captain with a squad of his choosing.”

In effort to hide the surprised dread on his face, Nozel bowed to the King. Fuegoleon and Teris’ eyes widened. Julius and Mereoleona gritted their teeth, silently cursing. Nozel might've been an exceptional Magic Knight but he was far from ready to be a Captain.

“My King!” Jorah said in shock.

Agustus sighed. “What is it now, Jorah?”

“Such matters are in my purview. No one knows my Magic Knights--”

“My Magic Knights!” Agustus shrilled. “You may oversee them but do not forget whom they serve. Whom you serve. Such things may be in your purview but all things are in mine, and mine to command as I see fit.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Jorah bowed.

Agustus sneered at the Wizard King. “I suggest you remember that. It wouldn’t go well for you if you needed reminding.”

“Yes, my King,” Jorah said, still bowing.

Julius trembled at the sight. It was nearly too much to see the man he respected and wished to be like treated so.

Agustus turned to Nathyn. “What say you, Lord Silva? Is your son capable of taking to the battlefield in our name?”

“I have full faith in Nozel, my King.” Nathyn said.

Agustus turned his eyes on Nozel for the first time. “What say you?”

Nozel wasn’t sure whether a bow or salute was the proper act in this circumstance. He felt his father's ire at his slight hesitance. His back prickled, feeling the eyes of everyone behind on him.

Nozel saluted, smartly. His hand hitting his chest too hard. “I will succeed in Your Majesty’s name or die trying.”

65.4

Teris exited the Royal Castle with Julius. The Azure Deers Captain caught sight of Jax and Bronn standing on the other side of the bridge and made his way to them. Teris followed her brother in a daze.

War. More than that. Nozel made an acting Magic Knights Captain. Teris was too worried for Nozel to be jealous. He wasn’t ready for such a thing. None of them were. To be thrown into such a position. In a war no less...

Julius reached the Black Bulls Captain and Vice Captain. “It’s bad.”

“War is never good.” Jax said.

Julius blinked in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Bronn.” Jax answered.

Julius turned to the Vice Captain.

Bronn shrugged. “You royals aren’t the only ones in the know. Low lives got to have knowledge too. How else are they to survive and get their payday?”

“Sometimes you really frighten me.” Julius muttered.

“Always said if he hadn’t been a Magic Knight Bronn would've been the leader of one of the most fearsome gang of criminals out there.” Jax said.

“You jest, but it’s true.” Bronn said. “Only reason I joined up was cause being a Magic Knight was less work. I could slack off all I wanted and still get paid, have a full belly, and a roof over my head. Only reason I stuck around was cause of you, Captain.”

“You flatter me.” Jax said, knowing that it was likely true, at least in part.

Jax knew Bronn didn’t serve the kingdom. Bronn served himself and his ideals. He didn’t obey the Wizard King. Not really. Bronn obeyed Jax. And even then, if it went against what Bronn thought or wanted, it was usually a fight to get him to submit.

"That's not all of it." Julius said, thinking about Nozel being made an acting Captain. He hoped the younger royal didn't allow his pride to get in the way. That Nozel would stand back and let the real Magic Knights Captains do their job without getting in their way. "Bronn. If you'd send Teris back to your base, please." He turned to her. "Not a word of any of this to anyone till Jax returns. Hear me."

"What if I'm asked?" Teris questioned. "Yami was there when Leon and Nozel came for me. He's got to know something's going on. I'm not going to lie."

"Not my problem." Julius said, mind already elsewhere.

"Yami was there when Bronn arrived." Jax said. "He knows. Just—just don't go overthinking anything. And don't leave the house."

Teris looked back over the bridge to the royal grounds and its three castles. "I wanted to talk to Nozel and--"

"Base! Now." Julius snapped.

Bronn opened up a gate and said almost kindly. "Get going girl."

65.5

Lord Nathyn turned to his son. "I must return to the throne room. Don’t fail us."

Nozel nodded, stiffly. "I will uphold His Majesty’s--"

"Us." Nathyn said, fiercely. "Do not fail us.”

Nozel blinked, wondering if his father meant the family, or was daring to imitate the King and use the royal ‘us’.

“Prove yourself worthy of the Silva name and position as my heir." Nathyn went on.

"Have I ever once failed at doing so yet?" Nozel questioned, wondering if he would ever be done with having to prove himself to his father.

“Do you really wish for me to answer that?” Nathyn asked.

Nozel look away.

Nathyn frowned, darkly. "Why did you pick the Vermillion heir as your second?"

Lifting his chin slightly, Nozel told. "Fuegoleon is a highly capable and powerful Magic Knight. He’ll make an excellent acting Vice Captain, and serve me and the team I pick well."

"He’ll serve himself and his House." Nathyn said with distaste.

"And in doing so will serve me and mine." Nozel stated firmly, looking his father in the eye.

It was times like these that Nathyn wished he had Julius Nova’s time magic. Nozel claiming the Vermillion heir as his acting Vice Captain while in front of the entire court meant that they had to live with his sons folly.

Nathyn sighed. "This was your chance to shine. Why you choose to share the glory with the Vermillion heir is beyond me."

"I am more concerned with successfully accomplishing the task my Lord Father and His Majesty have charged me with than any glory I might earn or have to share with the people I choose for my squad." Nozel told.

Nathyn huffed. "You already sound like a Magic Knights Captain. Don't let it get to your head. No matter how high you rise in that arena, the courtly stage is where the true power resides. You have a long way to go before I'll feel confident in leaving my legacy to you."

"There you are Acting Captain." Stepping beside Nathyn, Greywright inclined his head. "Your Highness."

"Commander." Nathyn greeted. "I hope you and Sir Jorah will honor His Majesty’s wishes and not seek to sideline my son somewhere behind the lines."

Greywright smiled stiffly. "We all serve at His Majesty’s pleasure, my Lord. None would consider going against the King."

"Good." Nathyn turned back to his son, arching a brow. "Remembered what I told you, Nozel."

Greywright gave a slight bow, watching the Silva patriarch head back to the throne room.

"Commander." Nozel tendered.

Greywright turned to the younger man and waited.

Nozel took a breath and met the Knights Commander’s eyes. "We do indeed serve at the Kings pleasure. Whether that form of service was asked for or not."

Greywright smirked. "No one thinks you asked for this Nozel. At least not anyone with half brain. Still, you will have a rough go of it. The Captain’s won’t take kindly to someone being placed among their ranks without having earned it. Don't take it to heart. Just focus on the task at hand. We'll do our best to help see you through this."

Nozel's lip twitched. Grateful as he was, he didn't like having to rely on others to help him through anything.

Greywright turned and beckoned. "Come on. You don’t want to be late for your first Captain’s meeting."

Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

Next chapter snippet:

The flesh on Fuegoleon’s arms pricked at the way Nozel said the words. He gave his head a shake and focused on the task at hand. “Well, it’s done now. So, Captain, what three Magic Knights are you thinking of taking?”

#yami sukehiro #nozel silva #fuegoleon vermillion #julius novachrono #mereoleona vermillion #Black Clover #light in the darkness

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jamiescallion · 4 years

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AMERICAN ANIMAL - (January Recap)

Chapter One

Mr Rawling Rump the Rhinoceros, of Austin Zoo, Texas, plunged his large snout into the cool mud and shut his beady black eyes. Rump, as most knew him, let the sludge cool his horn and daydreamed about the coming celebrations. He was excited. The weather had been stifling of late and the party was exactly what the animals needed.

Rump was the oldest mammal in the zoo. His advanced years hadn’t meant he’d learnt humility. Far from it. He was a proud beast who thought a lot of himself, and he wasn’t shy in sharing that around. His enormous enclosure: Rump Ranch, was named by Rump’s father Big Red Rump, and because of its location, next to the entrance, it was considered prime real estate. This made Rump a very important beast indeed. His father Big Red Rump would say:

“You’re a top mammal, son, and you must act like it. The Lion, Tiger, Elephant, Giraffe, Snake, Wolf, Monkey, Gorilla and Bear can afford to mess up. You can’t, the scrutiny is too great.”

Rump had been excited about tonight's chow down for weeks. It was an opportunity to see all of his supporters and also an opportunity for him to gloat. Just one week ago he’d won a triumphant victory over the ruling Big Cats. Rump had repeatedly insisted that President Zanzibar should provide conclusive proof he is an American Animal. Born in an American zoo. Zanzibar eventually relented and Old Baldy, the American Bald Eagle in charge of History and Births, confirm that Zanzibar was indeed born in an American Zoo, although not in Austin zoo. Rump considered the confirmation a victory and took great pleasure in letting his fellow creatures know. Rump’s swaggering self-satisfaction would soon sour.

Rump pulled his horn out of the sludge, climbed on top of Rump Rock, tipped back his head and let loose a thunderous bellow. Simon the snake slunk into the ranch. Simon, a python, was not very long for a python but he was certainly a python. His silvery scales blotched with oblongs of butterscotch yellow, ringed by lines of burnt orange.

Rump and Simon stalked and slid up the shallow slope to the Big Cat enclosure, where tonight’s stomp would take place. Under the giant arches, they went and into the vast and beautifully maintained Palace. Rump nodded cordially in return to those that greeted him. He took his place next to Senator Elena Forde’s enclosure. Elena, a sleek snow Leopard, nodded coldly toward Rump. They’d been friendly once but things had curdled since Rump had attacked her party leader. President Zanzibar, the Lion, climbed onto the speaking slab and addressed the crowd of gathered animals. Rump gazed up at the leader with barely masked disdain.

President Zanzibar looked down and smiled. “It is wonderful to be here with you at the chow down. As you will have heard Old Baldy released my official origin story and I am officially an American Animal. I was born in America!” The animals snorted in support around Rump. Zanzibar smiled more broadly now. “I hope it puts the doubts to rest but in case there is still any uncertainty, Old Baldy said he will give Mr Rawling Rump a blow by blow campfire retelling of my birth story. He’s called it out of Africa.” The animals laughed with great enthusiasm and Rump felt consumed with humiliation. His horn hot with embarrassment.

Zanzibar put up his paw to quell the laughter. “I should add that my mother was not African. She was born in New York Zoo…” Zanzibar now gazed openly at Rump. “Is New York okay or do I need to get Old Baldy to confirm my mother’s origin story too?” Rump’s eyes watered in shock, feeling the crowds communal stare upon him he attempted to smile back with casual grace. As if he’d been in on the joke. Only an awkward grimace was raised. Which only served to stoke the fire of mirth. President Zanzibar called for the stomp to begin and the animals, in unison, began to thud the ground with hooves and paws, trotters and claws. Rump turned to see Simon beating his diamond-shaped head against the ground with concentrated and joyous enthusiasm. Rump gave the snake a contemptuous glance and made his way out of the palace, through the entranced and stomping animals. He trudged back down the hill to Rump Ranch. With every step the rhinoceros’ fury grew, his stubborn will bent on revenge.

Chapter Two

Rump spent three weeks plotting. June ushered in a ferocious temperature and with it a resolve to get revenge done. The rhino climbed onto Rump Rock, tipped back his enormous head and roared. Simon slithered into the enclosure in record time. “Simon, I want you to gather all the animals together and tell them to come to Rump Ranch.” “Of coursssssse,” Simon hissed. “May I enquire as to what we will be discussing?” he said gazing up at the rhino with a colourless smile.

Rump snorted through bucket-sized nostrils and the python wished for eyelids. "This zoo is not great, not great at all. The zoo in Houston and the one in San Antonio are way better, way way better. Which is just terrible. Now go gather the other animals. I’m going to make some changes around here."

“Of courssssse?” said the snake. “But how do you know?" "Old Baldy told me,” Rump said impatiently.

“He wouldn’t lie to me. He’s a true American Animal." Old Baldy, the American bald eagle, visited zoos all over the state. Animals gathered around the ‘news tree’ most nights to hear Old Baldy broadcast the truth. Simon had not heard the claims their zoo was inferior to others but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

"President Zanzibar will surely do something," said the snake.

Rump shook his gnarled head, his yellow straw wig flapping, his beady black eyes rolling and his red necktie swinging.

"That pampered lion won't do a damn thing about a damn thing. He isn’t even a true American Animal. You heard him say his mother was African. He admitted it. How can he be our President if he wasn’t even born in an American zoo?"

“But Old Baldy said he was an American Animal.”

“Do you believe everything you hear?” said Rump.

Simon thought about this. Something deep in his slippery stomach told him Old Baldy had confirmed Zanzibar was an American Animal but perhaps he had it wrong. Did he believe everything he heard? Perhaps he did! One thing was for certain, Rump had never ever lied to him.

“Your right of course,” Simon said. “I will gather the animals. Although I’m not sure the Big Cats will come.” Rump settled the snake a beady glare.

“Tell them exactly what I say. Tell them I am going to clean this crooked zoo up and make it great again. Tell them I’m starting with the big furry hairballs in the White Palace. I’m going to cough them up and use them as earmuffs.”

Simon didn’t understand but nodded all the same. He knew Rump was talking about the ruling big cats but he didn’t know what a hairball was. As he slithered up the hill to deliver the message his thoughts turned to food. Most specifically, lunch.

The reptiles arrived first: Mike the lizard, Toby the toad, Gordon the gecko, Linda the turtle, Eric the skink, Charlie the chameleon and Crazy Tom the one-eyed crocodile, all settled down in the soft brown earth in front of Rump Rock and chattered excitedly as they waited for the great horn (as they called Him) to speak. Rump gave his loyal supporters an exaggerated wink, the enthusiastic reptiles grinned and all winked back. Apart from Tom, the crazy one-eyed crocodile, because a crazy one-eyed crocodile can’t wink.

Next to arrive was the sleek snow leopard, Senator Elena Forde. A senior member of Zanzibar’s administration and the Big Cat Patriot Party, she sashayed into the ranch with what Rump dubbed “arrogant cat syndrome”. Senator Forde climbed the leafy sweetgum tree that stood at the centre of Rump Ranch, stretched her limbs over a thick branch and began to preen her paws. She regarded Rump lazily and said: "What are you going to moan about this week?"

Before Rump could respond with nuclear indignation the heritage mammals ambled through the gates and into the enclosure. Joshua the giraffe, Gaga the albino chimpanzee, Jape the gorilla, Lenny the gazelle, Zee the zebra, Sally the hippo and Archer the toothless baboon. Trailing after them, like a vast grey cloud, plodded, Jacob the African elephant. A kindly and steadfast beast. Jacob was one of President Zanzibar’s most trusted supporters and a well-respected member of the zoos community. He was not known for his quick wit but was universally liked for his honesty, affability and tireless work ethic.

The heritage mammals supported the president with dutiful deference, Jacob going further with a belief that Zanzibar possessed almost godlike powers. The heritage mammals had always aligned themselves with the big cats. Since the dawn of zoos.

After the mammals, came the natives: Butch bear, Woody elk, Hank wolf, Buzz coyote, Rocky raccoon, Henrietta red fox, and Ace the three-legged bison. Rump loved the natives because in many ways he wanted to be one, and the natives loved him back because in many ways they thought he was one of them.

Old Baldy glided into Rump Ranch and landed gracefully on a branch high up in the leafless sweetgum. His friends from the menagerie had already taken up lower positions in the tree. Eric weaver, Sarah parrot, Dodger cockatoo and Reginald falcon were all thinking the same thing: if only the other animals could gain their elevated perspective, they might grasp how ridiculous Rump was, and not hang off his every pompous word.

Next came the rodents. Rump had long labelled them “aliens” because they’d arrived at the zoo from other countries, many of them illegally, or so the rhino claimed. Mohammed meerkat, Zoya mongoose, Ali otter, Baba porcupine, and Jose the Mexican rat. Strictly Jose was a Mexican sereque but only his fellow aliens bothered to learn the distinction. The rodents hung back, near the exit, unsettled and nervous. Ever watchful.

Finally, President Zanzibar wandered through the gates of Rump Ranch, his big cat cabinet marching in behind him. Seven senators: tiger, leopard, panther, jaguar, cougar, puma and cheetah. All lived and worked with the President at The White Palace.

Zanzibar moved through the crowd greeting creatures with an easy smile, the animals beamed back in delight. Only when Zanzibar was sitting on his hind legs, his lustrous golden mane angled upward toward Rump, did the rhino begin his speech…

The lion turned and gave the audience a warm smile and then turned back and looked up at Rump.

“Are we not all aliens in our own way?” His commanding voice silencing the commotion.

“My parents came to New York zoo from Tanzania many years ago. I am a first-generation lion. Does this make me any less of an American animal?”

The big cats and mammals roared in support. Rump shook his horn and looked out toward the assembled crowd.

“You’ve ruined this zoo with your woke snowflakery, Zanzibar. For eight years we have suffered at the paws of your administration. Whilst only the elite or the lowly are cared for. What about the animals in the middle? Enough is enough. We need change. I will do a better job than you. We must make this zoo great again. Do you accept my challenge?”

The gathering of animals roared, snapped, yelped and hissed. Some were noises of support, some of opposition, but all agreed that this was an audacious challenge. Zanzibar had never been opposed before, not even by another big cat, let alone a rhinoceros wearing a straw wig.

After a thoughtful pause, President Zanzibar raised his mane and addressed the gathering.

“It is Mr Rump’s right to challenge me.” He turned his flecked auburn eyes on the rhino. “But I will not stand against you. Another will take my place.” He nodded toward the Leopard lounging in the tree. “I choose Senator Elena Forde to run against you in my stead.”

A clamour of surprise and excitement erupted from the crowd. For the first time in almost a decade there would be an election and on the ballot paper a rhinoceros. Rump let out a high-pitched squeal, a noise that male rhinos are well known for, but try to avoid emitting because they think it’s emasculating. Rump pulled himself together, puffed out his cheeks and thought it through. It was unlikely he would win, the big cat elite was too powerful, their supremacy stretched too far back. However, he was in the race and anything can happen when you’re in the race. Then it came to him, a revelation. He wasn’t a big cat and as such he didn’t need to play by their big cat rules. He cleared his throat and began his acceptance speech.

“I accept any challenge set before me,” Rump began. “and I will fight, fight, fight to expose the lies and corruption the big cat elite have committed for so many years. But, you know what’s more important than anything?” he paused to rear up on his hind legs, delighting the reptiles at the front. “Unity! And you know what I love about it?” Continued Rump. “Unity is love, I’m in love with myself, I’m in love with all of you and I’m sure as hell in love with this zoo. And I don’t just love the animals that already support me, I love the animals that have cat yolk in their eyes. Yeh, that’s right, I’m in love with you because I know you love me right back. Deep down, even if you don’t know it yet. We’re all in love together because we all have one thing in common,” he paused again, glancing toward the exit where the rodents stood nervously watching. “Well, not all of us…and do you know what that thing we have in common is?” he bellowed.

Rump waited a beat and then thundered his final line with slow and purposeful intent. “WE ARE ALL… AMERICAN ANIMALS!”

As the new presidential candidate climbed down from the Rump Rock, a chant started up. Two words. Over and over again: “AMERICAN ANIMAL, AMERICAN ANIMAL, AMERICAN ANIMAL, AMERICAN ANIMAL.”

Chapter 3

Rump could not sleep that night; he replayed the day's events with growing delight. Excited and restless in his luxurious straw bed. He’d played it perfectly, he’d been cunning, calm and courageous. He knew the odds were stacked against him, but that didn’t matter. If he could just convince half the heritage mammals to vote for him, he’d be in with a chance of prickling some fat cat fur. Besides, win or lose, he was in the game and his daddy had always said:

“Once you get in the game, you can change the rules.” His daddy had also told him: “Winning ugly is still winning.”

It had been decided that the vote would take place in three weeks time. Rump’s campaign strategy was a simple one. Shake the tree and see what falls out. He was going to make sure that this election would be bigger than anything the zoo had ever seen before. It wouldn’t just be unique because Forde was the first female candidate to be selected in the history of the zoo and Rump was the first non-big cat to be selected. It would be unique because Rump intended to break with convention. In fact, he hoped he could break convention altogether. As he lay awake, staring up at the moon, he compiled a list of one ultimate and unbreakable rule: No matter what, however much the big cat elite pressured him, or how compelling the evidence against him was, he would never ever admit he was wrong. About anything. Ever.

One of the first executive decisions the rhino made was to make Simon Python his chief advisor. The other reptiles respected Simon and keeping them onside would be vital. Rump felt sure Simon would make an excellent right-hand snake. Not least because Rump knew he would do everything he asked, without question. He also chose Simon because he was almost as committed to expelling the alien animals as he was. The reptiles had always felt like they’d been treated as second class citizens by the big cat elite, they’d grumbled about it for years. Rump, who once boasted that his Ranch was twice the size of the reptile house, took the decision to make the refurbishment of the herpetarium (reptile house) his first election promise. He would hold a big rally that very day and announce the exciting news.

Rump commenced a run of rallies that quickly became the hottest ticket in town. His impassioned speeches sparking a conversation that divided opinion, animals and even, in some cases, species. Rump railed against the big cat elite with sincere passion, his mischievous charisma and disarming candidness winning over many doubters. He exploded with policies. Opinions that dared talk about real issues; overpopulation, sanitation and animal migration. His election pledges ranged from the wacky and wild to the inspired and necessary. He threatened to dig a vast trench around the zoo to stop the alien rodents getting in. He promised to make all carnivores pay more tax, a vow the big cat elite were most upset about. Rump was vague and direct, unpredictable and cocksure, but most of all he was plain-speaking, no-nonsense and different.

Rump told the animals that if they had a problem, he would fix it. He didn’t get bogged down in detail, he simply said it would be dealt with. If he said a group of animals were corrupt, they were corrupt. Rump didn’t get involved in evidence. Rump dealt in fact. He didn’t get embroiled in proving things; that was what the big cat elite did. He didn’t have time to waste on verifying particulars. Why should he? He knew exactly what was going on. His supporters took his word for it. He didn’t tell them how everything would get better. It just would. Every speech he gave, audience members either chanted and cheered, or heckled and booed. It was a polarisation so stark many animals worried there would be civil war. The middle ground vanished, you were either with him or against him. His detractors were ardent, his followers evangelical.

Every Rump rally ended with the same repetitive chant: “AMERICAN ANIMAL, AMERICAN ANIMAL.”

The rhino climbed onto Rump rock spurred by the sound of fanatical cheering, he gazed out at the assembled animals, his straw wig flapping in the wind. He was pleased to note the new faces. Every day more were drawn to his rallying cry. “We need big talk and even bigger action,” Rump began with intensity.

“BIG TALK, BIGGER ACTION.” Chanted the crowd back at him.

Rump had travelled around the zoo, visiting with animals from all walks of life, talking to them directly, listening to their grievances, promising swift justice or instant resolution. He injected his speeches with their concerns:

“American animals must come first! Let’s make this zoo great again!” he bellowed, waiting a beat so the gathering mob could chant his words back.

Rump awoke on the sixth day of the campaign with an idea. He summoned Simon and instructed him to go and find him a chalkboard. Within an hour Simon slithered back into the ranch, dragging behind him, a thin sheet of grey slate stone.

“Place it at the entrance of the ranch, where all can see it,” commanded the rhino. Rump followed Simon outside to make sure the snake completed the task to his satisfaction.

“What is it for, Mr President-Elect, Sir?” Simon said as pushed the flat stone into place. “I will use it to communicate my important message, direct to the other animals.”

“What a truly ingenious idea, Sir.”

Rump craned his neck and started to write on the board, with his horn. Simon spoke the words as he spoke them: “A leopard can’t change his spots. I don’t have spots!”

The snake wagged his tail excitedly. “What will you call this new form of communication, Sir?”

“Well, let me see, this is a Horn Board!” Rump said kicking the slate tablet. “So I guess the act of committing thoughts to the Horn Board is called Horning,” he added.

The following morning, Rump went to check the Horning Board and was surprised to find a rather large pile of flat stones stacked at its base. Closer inspection revealed each of the slate tiles was etched with a message.

The first of which was written in tall spidery lettering and was signed by the Mexican Sereque, Jose. It was a straightforward opinion: “You’re an idiot!”

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The cover art that received the highest number of likes for the month of January:

Quentin Blake

#authorsofinstagram #artists on tumblr #artistsoninstagram #artistsofinstagram

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insomnia-productions · 5 years

Text

Flora - a mat/rand drabble

Summary:

His mother gave him an odd look. “Pretty flower. Did a girl give that to you?”

Mat touched the starblaze and smiled. “No, just Rand.”

Her eyebrows went up. She exchanged an amused look with his father.

“What?” Mat demanded. “What’s that about?”

But his parents only laughed.

“Ask again in a few years,” his father said, ruffling his hair, careful not to dislodge the bloom. “Maybe, by then, you’ll already know.”

Tags: The Dragon Reborn, Missing Scenes, Reflection, Memories, Hopeful Ending, Flower Language

Word: 1.5k

Read on AO3

The floors of the hall are white marble, set with gold in the shape of leaves and lions. The pillars are similarly adorned, as are the walls, the arches, the ceiling. All of it glitters in the midday sun. Mat almost regrets the dirt dropping from his boots, the smudges left by his fingertips as he steals between pillars. Somehow, though, he can’t seem to summon nearly as much regret for this palace as he felt the last time he tracked mud into Bran al'Vere’s common room. The thought almost makes him laugh: who would have thought that one year could be the difference between sneaking around the local inn and breaking into a palace?

The sound of approaching footsteps halts his musings. Pulling back into the shadows, Mat quickly rounds a corner and darts through an archway, back into the garden, just as two guards stroll by. He crouches behind a stout birdbath as they pass, excruciatingly slowly, down the hall. One is speaking animatedly about a falling-out with his sister; the other hums along noncommittally. As their voices finally begin to drift away, Mat straightens and glances down at his reflection in the still water. One hand lifts on its own; his fingers brush the scarlet bloom tucked behind his ear. The starblaze from the garden. He considers it for a moment, and, suddenly, the face in the water seems to shift. It becomes softer, younger. There is still a red flower in his hair, but it is withering at the edges, its petals slightly torn—a wildflower, not of any queen’s royal backyard. Gazing down at himself, at this younger version of himself, he thinks he knows just why he picked this flower.

Light, no, Mat thinks desperately. A guard could appear at any moment, yet he cannot lift his eyes from the water. Not this. Not him. Not now.

It’s a fruitless thought. The memory returns, unbidden.

The second week of spring, some six or seven years ago. It was reaching midday and the flowers in the forest had all bloomed. There were hundreds of them. That winter had been particularly long, and then, seemingly overnight, the snow had melted away and the woods had been flooded with a sea of vibrant reds, yellows, pinks, and blues. Mat and Rand stood side by side, looking at them. Perrin should have been here by now, but he was often late to their little gatherings; with every passing year, he grew more attached to his apprenticeship with Master Lunhan. Mat was beginning to think that, by the time they were old enough to wed, Perrin would be ready to settle down with a pretty hammer and anvil. His thoughts drifted away from Perrin and towards Rand; his friend had moved. He was crouching close to the ground, cradling a yellow flower in one hand.

Softly, Rand said, “I remember… when I was very young, my mother used to pick flowers for the kitchen, and she would tell me what they all meant.” He stood, and the flower swayed as his hand left it. “I don’t remember much, but I think that one means jealousy.”

“Does it?” Mat murmured, only half-listening. He had noticed a damp patch near a fallen log and was wondering whether he might find a mushroom colony there. That was always exciting, no matter how old you got.

Rand continued, moving between the trees, pointing out the different flowers. “That one means hope, and that one is pride.” As he spoke, Mat wandered over to the log and knelt beside it. He couldn’t see any mushrooms, but, surely, he just needed to look a little closer.

“You’d like this one, Mat. It means freedom and lightheartedness. And this one…”

Mat felt cool fingers in his hair and he startled, turning to Rand. He was awfully close and the tips of his ears were pink. Mat could see himself reflected in Rand’s eyes; squinting unabashedly into them, he took note of the scarlet flower tucked behind his ear, and wrinkled his nose.

“What’d you do that for?”

Rand shrugged. “Suits you.”

“Oh, really?” Mat grinned. “What is it?”

“It’s a starblaze. They’re rare, here, I think. They prefer warmer weather.”

“What does it mean?”

“Oh… well… I…”

“Rand!” Whatever Rand had been about to say was cut off and Perrin stumbled into the clearing. “Mat! Sorry I’m late. I was in the workshop, and—”

“We know,” Mat laughed. “I tell you, Perrin, you should marry your hammers, because any wife you have will surely think you’re having an affair with them anyway, the amount of time you spend in there.”

“Shut up, Mat,” Perrin grumbled, and Rand laughed, and that was that.

They passed the day picking out increasingly dangerous paths across the stones rising out of the forest creek, and, even as his clothes grew soaked, Mat managed to keep his flower dry. He was still wearing it when he returned home that evening.

His mother gave him an odd look. “Pretty flower. Did a girl give that to you?”

Mat touched the starblaze and smiled. “No, just Rand.”

Her eyebrows went up. She exchanged an amused look with his father.

“What?” Mat demanded. “What’s that about?”

But his parents only laughed.

“Ask again in a few years,” his father said, ruffling his hair, careful not to dislodge the bloom. “Maybe, by then, you’ll already know.”

The memory fades. Mat shakes it off; he doesn’t have time for foolish reminiscences, now when he’s currently trespassing in the Queen of Andor’s house. He marches down the corridor, finds a guard willing to accept his story. When Tallanvor tells him, face stern, to get rid of his flower, Mat does so—he stuffs it into his coat pocket, and resolves to put it from his mind. And he does.

He does, until approximately fifteen hours later, as he sits on a boat bound for Tear and realizes that, no matter how much he tells himself to focus on the girls, he cannot put the Light-damned flower from his mind. Digging into his coat pocket, he draws out the bloom. It’s a little torn, now, a little crumpled at the edges, a little wilted after a day in his pocket—but no less beautiful for all that.

Thom, sitting beside him, look curiously at it. “Did you steal that from Morgase?”

Mat answers with a question of his own. “Thom, do you know what this flower means?”

Thom looks at him through the corner of his eyes, eyebrows raised like snowy mountains. “Red starblaze? I haven’t been in the practice of courting with flowers for a good decade, lad, but if memory serves… I’d say it’s a promise.”

“A promise? A promise of what?”

Thom shrugs. “What else, lad? Love.”

“Oh,” Mat whispers.

Thom is studying him, his expression somewhere between a frown and a smile. “Why do you ask?”

Mat shoves the flower back into his coat. “Never you mind,” he mutters, and Thom sighs. No more is said on the matter. In the distance, Tear looms.

The day passes in a blur. Mat discovers the rules of his luck, then he blows up the Stone of Tear, receiving no thanks from Nynaeve, Egwene, and Elayne, although, really, what else had he expected from them, and then, to top it all off, he wanders outside to see Rand striding down the road, Callandor in hand, followed by a mass of Westlanders and Aiel, all weeping and screaming about the Dragon.

It’s all overwhelming, and Mat prays for it to end, until it does, and suddenly he wants nothing more than to be caught up in the action again, if it will grant him only a moment’s reprieve from all the thoughts swirling around in his head. No respite comes, however, and, as the sun sets, he finds himself standing outside Rand’s room—because the blasted man has a personal room in the Stone of Tear, now. A room guarded by a cloud of Far Dareis Mai, no less, all of whom give Mat narrow-eyed looks as he stands, fidgeting, outside the door. He feels a vague sense of resentment under their suspicious gazes: he’s known Rand longer than anyone else here, burn them.

As soon as the thought comes, a darker, more chilling one replaces it: does he know Rand? The man on the other side of the door is Rand, yes, but, at the same time, he is not Rand. He is not the Rand of Mat’s childhood, of his memories, of his adolescent dreams. The man on the other side of the door is Rand al’Thor, and he is the Dragon Reborn, and Mat does not know which of the two he is more afraid to face.

Part of him wants to leave. He shouldn’t be here; Moiraine, of all people, had insisted that they all give him space, while he takes in his new role. Callandor’s blue glow seeps out from under the door, a reminder of all that this new role entails. Mat shivers. Yet he knows, for him, leaving is not, can never truly be, an option.

His hand dips into his coat. Somehow, the flower has survived the day’s activities with only a few torn petals. Some unknown instinct compels him to tuck the scarlet bloom behind his ear. The Maidens watch him, faces inscrutable. Mat pushes them from his mind. There is only one person who matters, now.

Light, the bloody Dragon Reborn.

He opens the door.

#wot #wheel of time #the wheel of time #wot fic #cauthor #rat #rand x mat #mat x rand #rand al'thor #mat cauthon #the dragon reborn #wot tdr

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roseyboy · 5 years

Text

no one asked for this, but if anyone wants my playlist I made on Spotify for songs that remind me of Arya and Sandor - have at it

and if anyone wants a full list with the lyrics of each song that really speak to me, keep reading

*** I will also note I’m only into s.8 Arya and Sandor being romantically involved w each other. Only an 18+ yr old Arya here folks.

Also a couple of these are just stupidly cheesy and for my own dang fantasies.

Oh Comely - Neutral Milk Hotel: Oh comely // I will be with you when you lose your breath // Chasing the only // Meaningful memory you thought you had left

I Hope That I Don’t Fall in Love with You - Tom Waits: I can see that you are lonesome just like me // And it being late, you'd like some some company // And I hope that you don't fall in love with me

bury a friend - Billie Eilish: Your talk'll be somethin' that shouldn't be said out loud // Honestly, I thought that I would be dead by now // Calling security, keepin' my head held down // Bury the hatchet or bury your friend right now

It Will Come Back - Hozier: Don't let it in with with no intention to keep it // Jesus Christ, don't be kind to it // Honey don't feed it, it will come back

Can’t Help Falling in Love(cover) - MountainCity: Would it be a sin // If I can't help falling in love with you?

Song for a Guilty Sadist - Crywank: How rude of me to bring my thoughts into your bedroom. // Is it condescending to be so scared I might hurt you?

Creep - Scott Bradlee(cover): Whatever makes you happy // Whatever you want // You're so fuckin' special // I wish I was special // But I’m a creep

Cherry Wine - Overcoats(cover): Calls of guilty thrown at me // All while she stains // The sheets of some other // Thrown at me so powerfully // Just like she throws with the arm of her brother.

In the Woods Somewhere - Hozier: I clutched my life // And wished it kept. // My dearest love I'm not done yet // How many years // I know I'll bear // I found something in the woods somewhere.

Closer - Nine Inch Nails: My whole existence is flawed // You get me closer to god // You can have my isolation // You can have the hate that it brings // You can have my absence of faith // You can have my everything

Desire - Meg Myers: Honey, I wanna break you // I wanna throw you to the hounds, // I gotta hurt you, I gotta hear from your mouth

My Blood - Twenty One Pilots: If you find yourself in a lion's den // I'll jump right in and pull my pin // And go with you

As it Was - Hozier: And the sights were as stark as my baby // And the cold was as sharp as my baby // And the nights were as dark as my baby // Half as beautiful too

Before I ever Met You - BANKS: Before I ever met you // I never knew that my heart could love so hard // Before I ever met you // I never knew I would be enemies with disregard // Before I ever met you // I never knew that I liked to be kissed for days // Before I ever met you // I never knew I could be broken in so many ways

Here You Come Again - Dolly Parton: Here you come again // Just when I'm about to make it work without you // You look into my eyes and lie those pretty lies // And pretty soon I'm wond'rin how I came to doubt you.

Dire Wolf - Grateful Dead: When I awoke, the Dire Wolf, six hundred pounds of sin, // Was grinning at my window, all I said was "Come on in". // Don't murder me, I beg of you, don't murder me. Please, don't murder me.

To Be Alone - Hozier: It feels good, girl, it feels good // Oh, to be alone with you

Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley: And I've seen your flag on the marble arch // And love is not a victory march // It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Can’t Nobody Love You- The Zombies: 'Cause they don't know how to love you // Like I do

Love is Blindness - Jack White: Love is clockworks // And cold steel // Fingers too numb to feel // Squeeze the handle // Blow out the candle // Love is blindness

NFWMB - Hozier: If I was born as a black thorn tree // I'd wanna be felt by you, held by you // Feel the power of your hand on me

Go Your Own Way - Fleetwood Mac: Loving you // Isn't the right thing to do // How can I ever change things // That I feel

I’m on Fire - The Staves: At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet // And a freight train running through the middle of my head // Only you can cool my desire

Woke Up New - The Mountain Goats: On the morning when I woke up without you for the first time // I felt free and I felt lonely and I felt scared

Young Blood - Noah Kahan: And if you want, I can tell the truth // That this life takes a toll on you // I spend nights stitching up the loose threads of my soul // In the morning I'm bulletproof

Hold On - Tom Waits: She closed her eyes and started swaying // But it's so hard to dance that way // When it's cold and there's no music // Oh, your old hometown's so far away

If I Loved You - Delta Rae: If I loved you, life would be easy // There'd be no truth that I'd be scared of // I could walk through every valley // And you'd light me with all of your love

when the party’s over - Billie Eilish: But nothing is better sometimes // Once we've both said our goodbyes // Let's just let it go // Let me let you go

The Night We Met - Lord Huron: I had all and then most of you // Some and now none of you // Take me back to the night we met // I don't know what I'm supposed to do // Haunted by the ghost of you

Moment’s Silence - Hozier: What yields the need for those who lead us oh so morally // Those that would view the sin we do through their deformity // Who view the deed as power's creed is pure authority // This moment's silence when my baby // Puts her mouth on me

bad guy - Billie Eilish: So you're a tough guy // Like it really rough guy // Just can't get enough guy // Chest always so puffed guy // I'm that bad type // Make your mama sad type // Make your girlfriend mad type // Might seduce your dad type // I'm the bad guy, duh

I Love You Like an Alcoholic - The Taxpayers: One last kiss, I love you like an alcoholic. // One last kiss, I love you like a statuette. // One last kiss, I need you like I need a broken leg.

Fell in Love with a Girl - The White Stripes: but sometimes these feelings can be so misleading // she turns and says are you alright? // I said I must be fine cause my heart's still beating

Whore - In This Moment: But let me tell you something baby // You love me for everything you hate me for // I’m the one that you need and fear // Now that you’re hooked, it’s all becoming clear // That all your judgments that you placed on me // Was a reflection of discovery

Closer - Kings of Leon: She took my heart, I think she took my soul // With the moon I run // Far from the carnage of the fiery sun

Love Song for a Vampire - Annie Lennox: Oh loneliness, oh hopelessness // To search the ends of time // For there is in all the world // No greater love than mine

Big God - Florence + the Machine: You keep me up at night // To my messages, you do not reply // You know I still like you the most // The best of the best and the worst of the worst

Ouija - Beacon for Ghosts: I should have known I’d be misunderstood // in every story you heard I was the antagonist // But I can’t hurt you, and even if I could // I’ve forgotten what it was that I even wanted vengeance for

Last Night on Earth - Green Day: I'm here to honor you // If I lose everything in the fire // I'm sending all my love to you

Started - Iggy Azalea: I started to say sorry, but fuck that shit // You started out hatin', now you love my drip // Ayy, bitch, they lookin' at me, they not lookin' at you // I don't mean to be rude, I'm a ten, you a two

Otherside - Avi Kaplan: wrapped around my skin // pulls me deeper // drags me back again

I Can’t Go On Without You - KALEO: Oh so what is left but a broken man? // 'Cause nothing hurts like a woman can

Happier - Marshmello, Bastille: When the evening falls // And I'm left there with my thoughts // And the image of you being with someone else // Well, that's eating me up inside

Graceless - The National: All of my thoughts of you // Bullets through rotten fruit // Come apart at the seams // Now I know what dying means

Furr - Blitzen Trapper: Yeah, we would gladly get our fill // Howling endlessly and shrilly at the dawn // And I lost the taste for judging right from wrong

Beggin for Thread - BANKS: So I got edges that scratch // And sometimes I don't got a filter // But I'm so tired of eating // All of my misspoken words // I know my disposition gets confusing // My disproportionate reactions fuse with my eager state // That's why you wanna come out and play with me, yeah // Why?

Take Me To Church - Hozier: I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies // I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife // Offer me that deathless death // Good God, let me give you my life

Go to War - Nothing More: Every feeling in my bones tells me to lash out // And tell you, "fuck off" // You've got my heart and I've got your soul // But are we better off alone? // With every battle, we lose a little more // Remember everything that we died for // You are everything that I die for

Kissing You Goodbye - The Used: On my own, I'm nothing, just bleeding // I'm not kissing you goodbye

Follow You - Bring Me The Horizon: So you can drag me through hell // If it meant I could hold your hand // I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell // And you can throw me to the flames // I will follow you, I will follow you

Smother Me - The Used: Now I can breathe, turn my insides out // And smother me // Warm and alive I'm all over you // Would you smother me? Smother me, smother me

#i can't even say i'm sorry #investing myself in these two is saving me from facing the fact that sandor is canically dead #cus in my lil fantasy sandor killed his brother and is sailing the seas with arya #GoT #sandor clegane #arya stark #arya x sandor

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blueplanettrash · 6 years

Note

[1/2] Fic where lance has to be left behind for sake of the rest of the team's lives so he gets caught by galra and is tortured for information. Later Shiro sneaks in to get him out but boi has been so messed up already he can't sit up let alone walk and get out. On top of that he needs immediate medical attention. But the galra find out that shiro is here and are trying to catch them.

Here it is! I hope you enjoy! ❤️ I’m actually going to get to sleep at a somewhat decent time today YEET!

“Run!” Lance yelled at the rest of the team. He hissed at the arms that squeezed around him, dragging him away from the lions and his friends. They looked at him in shock and Shiro stepped forward slightly as if to go after him.

“GO!” He screamed, tears rolling down his cheeks. Shiro flinched back and glanced back and forth between him and the lions behind them. With a small choke, they ran to the lions and took off leaving him in the hands of the Galra.

“After them!” One of the Galra commanded, there were several nods before they deployed chasing after the lions but were quickly thwarted when the Castle jumped into a wormhole instead.

“Commander Thrak, we lost them,” a voice said into the coms. Thrak clenched his jaw with a growl and shook Lance in frustration.

“Where are they going?” He hissed. Lance laughed slightly and gave him a tiny smirk.

“You actually believe that I’m going to tell you anything?” It was kind of the truth, it wasn’t like Allura told them in the briefings where they would be teleporting after the mission was complete. Even if he did, he wouldn’t tell them of course.

“Very well paladin,” he chuckled throwing him to the sentries. He yelped as the metal arms wrapped around him tightly, bruising his skin through the armour.

“Take him to a cell,” he commanded, the sentries nodded and started dragging him out of the room, despite his struggles against them.

“We will speak later paladin,” he stated ominously.

“Looking forward to it,” he smirked locking eyes with the galra. He grunted as the sentries carried him out of the room.

“Before we start, I’ll give you the chance to give me the information that I want,” Thrak announced pacing around the table that Lance was strapped to. Lance’s eyes followed him as he walked around his body. He was stripped from his armour and put in a pair of plain black trousers instead.

“I already told you that I’m not telling you anything,” Lance rolled his eyes and tested his bonds. Thrak let out a sign and walked up beside Lance.

“Maybe some persuasion would help you,” he said waving his hand. Lance looked at it in confusion and looked in the direction he was gesturing to. A figure with a cloak glided in, didn’t Shiro or Allura call them druids? He wasn’t exactly sure but it wasn’t important right now anyway.

“You’re allowed to do anything to make him talk, without seriously injuring him, we need him alive,” he growled at the druid, pointing a clawed finger at them.

“Understood,” they hissed skulking forward to run cold fingers along Lance’s chest. Lance flinched and struggled to push away from the creature. A deep sense of unease bloomed in his chest as he looked at the glaring mask.

“Good,” Thrak said turning and moving to the door. He turned as he was leaving the room and smirked at Lance.

“Good luck paladin,” Lance glared at him as the door slid shut and he was left in the quiet of the room. What could this thing do that Thrak couldn’t. They didn’t look like they’d be able to fo much to him, considering the lack of weapons in the room, he wasn’t too worried about himself. However, the feeling of unease didn’t leave him and he usually trusted his instincts, so he wasn’t able to completely let his guard down yet.

“So what? We going to have a nice chat? A little heart to heart?” Lance said playfully with a grin.

“I don’t think so,” they replied. Even though he couldn’t see any part of their face, he could practically feel the smirk on their face. Lance quirked a brow at the comment when they didn’t offer up any more explanation.

“We’ll start off small,” they said laying their hand on Lance’s chest. He looked at it in confusion before he arched in the hand as pain took over his body. His mind went a million miles an hour as he tried to comprehend what his body was experiencing.

Every single jolt of agony that ran through his body was followed by a question from the druid. He never gave them anything though, too confident in the fact that his team would be able to rescue him. They would never leave him here to rot.

He didn’t know how long it would take though. He was confident that he would be able to last at least a few weeks without giving them any information. Hopefully, they would come sooner rather than later.

Shiro snuck through the galra ship’s hallway only a few days later. The rest of the team were successfully distracting the main forces as he searched for their missing paladin. He tried not to think of his own experiences at the hands of the galra during his missing year. It was why they came to Lance’s rescue as quickly as they were able, he couldn’t be subjected for long, it would destroy him. He ducked around a corner as he spotted a druid leaving a room ahead of him. He froze in fear, remembering them from his brief flashes of memories from their experiments.

He waited until it was completely out of his sight before running to the room it left. He both hoped that Lance was and wasn’t in this room. He would be able to get him out sooner, but on the other hand, he didn’t want Lance to be a subject like he was. He pressed his galra hand to the reader and let out a sigh of relief when it slid open without a problem.

“Lance,” he breathed out walking quickly to the paladin strapped to the table. Lance blearily looked up at him, his whole body was shaking. He wasn’t sure what it was from, fear? Pain? Maybe even both.

“Shiro,” Lance sobbed out in relief, eyes squinting as tears rolled down over his ears onto the table. Shiro quickly cut through the restraints and turned to the door to watch for any guards that could come in.

“Let’s go, we don’t have much time,” Shiro said moving quickly towards the door. He waited by the door expecting Lance to touch his back to keep moving when he was ready.

“Shiro,” a meek voice called out. He turned and saw Lance still laying on the table, barely having moved from his original spot. He raced back over and saw his body violently trembling, even more so from when he first came in.

“I can’t get up,” he admitted with a shaking voice, staring up at the ceiling. Shiro sucked in a breath and wrapped an arm around his back and lifted him into a sitting position, but even in this position, he was lying limply over the arm. He helped him put his feet on the ground and stood him up, hoping that he just needed to get his blood flowing. He took his hands off of him when he stood steady and backed away. Lance took only one step before he collapsed to the ground. Shiro immediately swooped down and scooped him up into his arms.

“I’m going to have to carry you,” Shiro said urgently as they moved to the door again.

“Sorry,” Lance said quietly from where his cheek was pressed into Shiro’s chest armour. Shiro held him tighter as he began running in the direction of where the black lion was waiting for them.

“Don’t apologize, Lance, I’m the one that left you behind in the first place,” he whispered. The ashamed feeling returned two-fold as he looked at the shape that Lance was in.

“What did they do to you?” He asked hesitantly, not sure if he was alright to breach the topic yet.

“I don’t know, the druid just touched me and I felt pain everywhere,” Lance answered, trying to tilt his head up to look up at Shiro but failing. Shiro gulped at the news, he remembered one of the other prisoners that had that happen to them. After a few days they weren’t able to move again and they were killed by the guards. He didn’t have much time before it was too late for Lance. They needed to be in the Castle now. He picked his pace up, closer to a full sprint now.

“Why are you going faster?” Lance asked quietly. Shiro couldn’t bring himself to answer and hoped that Lance would forgive him for ignoring him.

“Shiro, you’re scaring me,”

“I’m sorry Lance, I just want you to get taken care of as soon as possible,” he said looking down at him. It wasn’t exactly a lie, he did want to get Lance to safety. Lance seemed to take the truth as a whole though and didn’t question him again. He got into the hallway of the hanger he highjacked when blaring alarms sounded through the ship.

“Attention all on board personnel, the blue paladin has escaped confinement, all units to sector 7 to search for the paladin,” Shiro gasped and ducked into one of the supply rooms along the hallway. They were in the most populated hallway of the ship and they wouldn’t be able to leave for a while if there were as many soldiers on board as Pidge had said. He sat crouched on the floor near the door, listening as boots marched past the door every few seconds. His stomach clenched in sympathy when he looked down at Lance again and saw he trying to lift his head up. With a trembling hand, he lifted Lance’s chin up to lessen the strain on his neck.

“Thanks, Shiro,” he said earnestly with a smile on his face.

“No problem,” he choked out after a moment. He never felt this helpless in his life, he had brought a portable med kit with him in case Lance was in bad shape when he got to him, but it was useless just like he was right now.

“I’m so sorry Lance,” he whimpered pressing his forehead against the side of Lance’s head. “We shouldn’t have left you here,”

“I wanted you to go, it was either one of us or all of us,” he replied trying to sound reassuring but his voice cracked in the middle.

“I knew that you guys were going to come for me though,” he said in a much more reassuring voice. Shiro didn’t say anything, just closed his eyes and focused on the noise outside of the door.

“Shiro?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t feel my hands or feet,”

Shiro’s world was shattering around him. He started praying that the guards would go faster, or he was going to jump out risks be damned. His devastated eyes caught on Lance’s terrified ones. He had never seen the teen exude anything but pure strength and hope, but it looked like that hope was running out quickly. He couldn’t take this anymore. He shot to his feet, Lance’s head once again rolling to rest on his chest and sprinted towards the hanger. It was almost like someone was finally taking pity on them and let them get to Black without seeing a single galra.

“We’re heading out,” Shiro said shakily into the coms, not even taking the time to lay Lance on the floor of the cockpit before they were taking off out of the ship.

“Is he okay?” Hunk asked worriedly. Shiro looked at Lance’s face and gulped.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. They started rapid firing questions at him and he almost turned his com at the overwhelmingness of it all.

“Can we please wait until we get Lance in a pod?” he asked meekly. They weren’t used to Shiro sounding so drained and quieted down without a second thought. Relief flooded through Shiro as the Castle quickly came into view. He didn’t dock Black as well as he usually would but he was also almost out of his seat by the time her paws touched the hanger floor. He didn’t even greet the other paladins before he was sprinting down the halls to the med bay and starting up a pod. He was thankful that Coran taught them all how to use the pods in case he wasn’t there. By the time Hunk, Keith, and Pidge arrived at the bay, Lance was already in the pod and on his way to healing.

“Get work getting him here so quickly,” Hunk said clapping him on the back.

“Yeah and getting him out of there,” Keith added coming to his other side and placing his hand on his shoulder. They waited for any type of encouraging speech from their leader but he didn’t look away from Lance’s pod.

“Shiro? Are you okay?” Pidge asked coming around in front of him.

“I feel so terrible,” he admitted with a sob cradling his face in his palms. His shoulders shook as tears leaked between his fingers and soaked his gloves.

“Why?” Hunk asked in confusion. They had gotten Lance back in record time and it didn’t look like he was very damaged.

“We shouldn’t have left him, now I don’t even know if he is going to be okay,” Shiro cried looking over at Hunk.

“He looks pretty okay to me,” Pidge said, her face pushed close to the glass of the pod.

“You didn’t see him, he couldn’t move, he could barely talk, I never thought I would see Lance that weak,” he sniffed miserably.

“Shiro, everything worked out fine, Lance is going to be okay,” Keith said. Shiro only nodded his head and wiped his face before sitting in front of the pod, clearly intent on waiting until Lance got out.

They sighed before leaving the med bay, coming back soon with blankets, snacks, and water for the wait ahead of them.

Shiro didn’t leave his spot for anything other than a few bathroom breaks until Lance was released from the pod and assured Shiro himself, that he was fine. I was no surprise that Lance told him to shut up after he apologized for the eighth time. He wasn’t being malicious, he knew that Shiro just cared about him.

Stories Masterlist

#vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #lance mcclain #lance #shiro #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #keith #pidge gunderson #pidge #hunk #hunk garrett #langst #angst #whump #lance whump #injury #fanfic

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endeavorsreward · 7 years

Text

T I M E C R A S H (Pt. 1)

The mercenary team hired to protect the princess marched forwards, leading the chocobos along the river. Slow but steady, like the passing of time.

The Algost Mountains formed a shelf where the highlands ended. During the dry season, at the river's calmest, there was a fordable pass which some enterprising merchant or cutthroat had found in a century past and linked with a simple bridge of rope and wood. Lesalian nobility had men come and fix it annually and kept it tax free, not out of largesse but to provide a route for their own to ferry contraband. It was patrolled, but only lightly. At some point, its nature as a way around the official crossing had left it named for history's most reviled traitor, but its location was something of an open secret. He'd have to bring the princess there, but once past Germonique's Crossing, he might well be into the arms of the Black Lion and lost to them.

Gaffgarion had gotten ahead of them somehow, but the young man that the others kept looking to for guidance, he just moved steadily and with a grimace. And then, suddenly, there was the cry of a hawk somewhere to their north, and he broke into a run.

The young man, for his part, was puzzling over his own motivations, his own feelings. He knew who it was that he'd find at the Crossing, and he couldn't yet fathom what it would mean to face him here, in this place, with these stakes. He vaulted over a boulder and turned the corner at the cliffside, and as the bridge came into view it took his fears and gave them form.

His rival there stood, weapon drawn, but not at the princess, who cowered at his back, but instead at five knights whose own blades were raised in turn. Another two lay dead at their feet. Despite standing on the Limberry side of the Crossing, they were of the Order of the Northern Sky.

“Stand aside, ser!” The knight's leader pointed with his blade. “You are defeated! Surrender the princess, and no more blood must needs be spilt!”

“You mean yours?” Seifer Almasy let his gunblade hang in his hand, almost lazily. “You're full of it, and I'm not gonna let you kill her.”

Squall Leonheart drew his own gunblade, preparing to charge the hill, only to see Gaffgarion standing at its crest, by the bridge, looking directly at him. The knight on the river's other side called out.

“Hmm. It seems we are no longer alone. Gaffgarion! Kill them all!”

Squall's fellow SeeD formed up behind him, and his trigger finger twitched.

***

The cart’s wheel hit a stone and jostled, and he awoke suddenly, gasping at terrors that fled in the hot Ul’dahn sun. He rubbed at his face; he hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

“Y’all right lad?” A grizzled merchant in a too-heavy coat and a blond beard gave him a sympathetic smile. “You were moanin’ somethin’ fierce for a while there.”

He sat up straighter, glanced at the other occupants in the cart, a pair of white-haired twins of no more than sixteen who were making a point not to look at him. He sighed, waved the older man off.

There was a whistle out front and the sound of talons in dirt, and the cart slowly ground to a halt. Weighed down with goods, the wagon needed the support of the balloons tied to either side to lighten the load enough for the two chocobos to tote it; slowing down was a gradual, awkward affair.

“You there – halt!” called out a rider ahead, and Wiegraf Folles placed one hand on the hilt of his sword. The merchant, however, shook his head, and he forced himself to relax.

“S’only the Brass Blades, lad, relax.” The merchant, whose name was Brendt, shifted positions and crossed his legs to appear further casual as one of the men came ‘round back to inspect the cart’s cargo—and its passengers. “You’re dressed as one of those new adventurers... guessin’ you really are new to Ul’dah, eh?”

“I don’t remember,” Wiegraf mumbled.

The female of the two twins glanced over at him, but was quick to look away. She, both of them, had longer, pointed ears.

“That right? Hmm.” Brendt scratched at his beard. “Since the Calamity, memories have been all kinds of messed up, can’t argue with that one.” The word Calamity resonated with Wiegraf in a way he couldn’t define. He mopped at his brow, watching instead the Brass Blade root through the crates and sacks. “Most folk can’t recall the Warriors of Light, but you hear now and again about someone forgetting more.”

Which is how he caught the man remove a small pouch from his own belt before holding it up. “Somnus.”

Brendt only smiled. The boy twin’s mouth edged ever so slightly downward.

Wiegraf wanted to speak up. To say something about the honor of knighthood, maybe, or perhaps even that if he was so willing to be unsubtle in his ploy for extortion, there was likely someone above his rank and class to which the technique would be better suited. But what happened next was that a cadre of beastmen attacked. He did not know them as Amal’jaa, only saw their scales gleam in the high sun. They came with weapons drawn, and chaos erupted quickly.

***

The Galbadian streets to each side of the procession were solid masses of people, rising and falling in waves. The leader of the sniper team gave the scene one last glance before he was to head underground, where the carousel lay. The eyes of the people were glassy, one set after another, and their expressions didn't match the words and gestures coming from the float where the Sorceress and her knight were taking in the hollow adulation. He shook his head and descended—time was short.

The marksman, for his part, was already waiting, seated, checking his weapon in silence. They exchanged a single look, and waited for the carousel to rise. As well, his other teammate, kind-eyed and soft, gave him a warm look that flashed once to fear, then again to resolve.

Elsewhere, they knew the gateway team was poised within the arch in Galbadia's central plaza, waiting to trap the parade float beneath. The timing had to be perfect—too soon, and the Sorceress would see the trap and be free to react. Their most professional member lead that team, and he could close his eyes and picture her adjusting her glasses, telling the young man with the upswept blond hair to be quiet, the young brunette to sit still. Her hand was likely resting on the switch, ready to throw it.

20:00:00. The carousel began to rise.

His fists clenched as the machinery roared and the air rushed into the compartment, as their platform reached up towards the sky. Holograms flared to life around them. The marksman took a long, deep breath and took aim.

The gate clenched shut before the float, and the marksman fired straight and true.

And then everything happened at once. With a casual wave, the shot dissipated, and he was leaping over the side. Time to, as an instructor once told him, “display adaptability in the field,” and he didn't wait to see if his teammates were following behind as he took a parked vehicle and launched it top speed towards the float, cutting a swath through the throngs of possessed (and dispossessed) gathered to see his target. The crowd erupted in flashes of red...

...As a series of crimson cloaks were flung to the sky.

He was leaping from the car through the bars of the gate onto the parade float even as his team began disarming the guards surrounding the arch, but it seemed he was expected. As his head rose to view the Sorceress, her knight took a step forward, blocking his view and drawing his weapons, a pair of corkscrewed bolt sabers that sparked against each other and then split apart to reveal a face contorted in anger.

Ace took one look at Machina, and drew his cards.

***

In the depths of the Mist-soaked tomb of Dorgalua Raithwall, she stood before the door, watching as the rotating crystal shattered, felt the brand of Belias, the Gigas burn into her. Her hand went involuntarily to the place where it sizzled, her skin feeling almost as if the brand crawled across her like an insect, dug in its fangs, just above her left breast.

“It was guarding the treasure all this time?” asked the pilot behind her, and she turned.

“It is the treasure.” Power enough to start changing things. Power enough to make it right.

“Oh.” His shoulders sank. “Foolish me, thinking it would be something that’d get us out of this mess.”

She rolled her eyes and approached the door, which opened to her without a touch. The heavy stone slid with the weight of history to admit her, and they all followed as she climbed the stairs to where the Dawn Shard lay, suspended in air, in Mist, above a plinth of sculpted metal.

They stood there, stunned at the sight of the prize they’d sought, and she finally moved to take it...

“What?” she whispered, as a vision appeared before her, faint but real, standing, watching, and her hand fell at the sight of the eighteen year old girl who smiled back, welcoming, regarding fondly.

Lightning’s knuckles shifted inside of her gloves as she found herself rooted in place, watching Serah watch her. Not seeing the boy at her side take a step forward either, not realizing he saw it too, as nobody else did, though the person he saw was older, and far beyond reach, beyond Hope.

***

The elder twin scaled the steps slowly, one at a time, already feeling the air rush down the stairwell and whip his long hair about. The tight space made it easy to slip, actually, but his eyes were closed, determined, already knowing how it would end.

His brother stood atop the roof when he arrived; one foot on the crenelations, taking in the whole of their responsibility in its most tangible form. His brother had always looked outward and ahead; he’d stared at his own feet. It was his feet now that carried the sensation, the life of their home, pulsing, ready to change, ready to move. Basch felt that rumble in his bones, and wanted to hold fast, but only a fool fought the wind.

Noah had his face forward so that his brother would not see him cry. His voice was hoarse when he bit out “Empire of murderers...! They won't get away with this!”

Basch came up alongside and tried not to let the beauty of his homeland pull on him, pull on the ache he felt. Their father had just died, and they two were all each other now had. Someone had to be the responsible one.

“Basch,” Noah said quietly, at last, when the wind had dwindled to nothing. “Let us leave this place together. Forget it all and live as we’d dreamt. You said you’d never wanted it, yes?”

“A life of freedom?” And Basch allowed himself the dream. For a moment. “Let us decide with a flip of a coin. Whosoever calls its side, they will be free to choose their own path.”

And he flicked the coin into the air, where it seemed to hold forever.

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charlottemaunqmal-blog · 7 years

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Ex-Partner

One of those cloudy days, where some people stayed in fearing rain, and others risked it to go shopping. So far, there'd been no sprinkling or thunder, and the marketplace was busy but quiet, all but for a warband of charr practicing their marching.

"One, too-wuh, thuh-ree, fo-wer!" occasionally echoed its way under the market roof and there was a shuffling of claws on concrete.

Business had been slow at Charlotte's flower cart that morning. Parading charr soldiers weren't her biggest customers. She occupied herself fluffing the flowers in their little vases of water, trying to make them look their most attractive, and occasionally echoing the charr captain's orders in a mocking Big Tough Charr voice under her breath.

One young-looking charr bounded through the market, nose wiggling intensely. Her hair flopped around wildly--dreadlocked with colorful beads throughout--just like the tunic dress she wore, colorful and floppy. This creature was on a mission. She froze in the middle of the market, nose still wiggling. Eyes narrowed.

Charlotte noticed the charr--she was hard to miss--and watched her casually as she went about her work flower-primping. Any diversion was welcome on a day like this.

The young charr suddenly zeroed in on Charlotte's flower cart. She bounded forward, claws kicking up gravel as she zoomed, eyes wide with excitement.

Charlotte's eyes widen a little in alarm at the oncoming charr. She moves sideways along the wagon, towards the end where she can access the weapons she keeps strapped to the underside. Just in case.

The charr scatterscrambled to a stop just in front of the cart, panting, her little nubby teeth showing a bit. Her eyes were round, pupils circular as she looked over the flowers. "One of these smells amazing and I need to know which one it is right now!"

Charlotte's eyebrows lift slightly but otherwise she betrays no surprise. She eyes the charr up briefly and seems to come to a decision. "I specialize in fragrant flowers. Perhaps you were struck by the delphinium?" She gestures to a vase of long stalks that have small flowers growing up and down them, arranged in an attractive spectrum of blues and purples and pinks.

The charr's muzzle darted toward the delphinium, nose wiggling. She gasped. "That's it! It's even my favorite color! How much for the purple ones?"

Charlotte smiles. "Ten copper a stalk."

The charr carefully extracted five purple delphiniums with her relatively petite claws and placed them gently on the counter. "Just a sec," she said, grabbing for her wallet. "Oh," she said, more quietly, "Can you make change for a silver?"

"Of course. Would you like me to wrap these in some tissue paper?"

"That'd be good. It's shedding season and I'd hate to get fur on them before I can get them home," the charr rambled excitedly as she put a silver down. "Sorry, did that sound gross?"

"Not at all." Unperturbed, Charlotte considers the rack of tissue-paper rolls at one end of the wagon and settles on a pale green. She rips a length off and wraps the delphinium stalks in it. Then she deftly picks up the silver and replaces it with 50 copper.

"It's my first time in Lion's Arch and I've never bought from a human before. Not to sound racist! I just didn't know if you knew about shedding," she continuted to ramble, gently pawing the flowers off the counter and holding them against her chest. She paused her talking to give them a sniff, then went on. "Well actually my mom brought me here as a cub but obviously I don't remember that so it feels like my first time here."

Charlotte smiles, delighted. "I imagine that was the old Lions Arch, anyway. It's pretty much a different city altogether now."

"That's what I've heard! Everything is so... white, it hurts your eyes when you first come outside. Like when they have to readjust?" She paused again to sniff the flowers, as if she was sipping a nice drink.

"Yes, I know exactly what you mean. Interesting design choices they made." Charlotte makes a wry face to indicate that no one invited her to be on the design committee.

Plodding footsteps approached from the side.

The young charr looked up and ducked her head, smiled a little, at the approach of Fabia.

Fabia eyed the young charr, then Charlotte, jaw moving as she ground her teeth. She lifted her jaw in acknowledgement of Charlotte, then crossed her arms when she got near the cart. She looked at the flowers in the other charr's hands, dubious.

Charlotte's enjoyment fades a little with Fabia's arrival. She makes a sour face at Fabia while the charr's attention is on the customer.

The young charr customer suddenly gasped. "I'm Sooty by the way!" she said to Charlotte. "Can I get your picture with me?" she asked as she got a tiny traveling camera from her pack.

"What--?" Charlotte says, taken by surprise. She's never seen a charr tourist with a camera before. That's more of an asura thing. "Uh, yeah. Sure. I'm sure Fabia will be happy to take our picture."

Fabia rolled her eyes, appearing to bite the inside of her cheek. She plodded around the cart to take the camera from the happily bouncing Sooty.

Sooty held up the flowers and leaned near the counter to make sure Charlotte would be in the shot, grinning ears to ears.

Charlotte leans in toward the young charr and gives the camera a wide smile calculated to irk the photographer.

A bright flash and popping sound indicate a successful shot, and Fabia plonks the camera down on the flower cart to stalk off to the side again, tail twitching.

Sooty grabs up the camera. "It's not one of those fancy Rata Sum ones that can show you how the picture came out, so here's hoping!"

"However it turns out, I'm sure it will be a fine reminder of the day you came to Lions Arch and bought flowers." Charlotte rearranges the delphinium display so that there's no empty patch and throws a smirk over her shoulder at Fabia.

Fabia just twitches an ear and goes to lean on someone else's stall, currently empty, with her big meaty arms crossed.

Sooty beams at Charlotte with her nubby little teeth and puts her camera away. "Thank you, this was fun, I gotta go find my 'band now," she says as she starts to step away.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Sooty. Come back soon!"

"I hope so!" Sooty scampers off, holding her flowers carefully, giving them several good long sniffs as she disappears into a small crowd on the other side of the market.

Fabia stalks back over and picks up a daisy to look at it, grunting disapproval at the entire exchange.

Charlotte watches her go, her brow furrowing slightly. "I hope they don't trash her flowers." She looks at Fabia. "Trying to teach her a lesson about acting too human."

Fabia quirks a brow, shrugs, scratches the base of her horns. "If they let her in their 'band, they're probably all a buncha fluffy airheads too."

Charlotte smiles. "I hope so! That, I would love to see." Her smile fades and she goes back to arranging her flowers. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your arrival?"

Fabia rolls her eyes. "Got a letter from a little bird. It was for you, but I read it anyway." She holds out a slightly crumply letter between two claws.

"How many times have we talked about this?" Charlotte says, wiping her hands dry on her skirt. "Letters from birds are very personal to me."

"We're partners, we share everything," Fabia drawled with exactly zero intonation.

Charlotte grimaces. "I guess I should be grateful you don't have a boyfriend, then." She takes the letter from Fabia's claws and opens it.

Fabia sneers and does a sassy headbob.

Charlotte's manner changes as she reads the letter. She looks much more serious. When she looks up at Fabia again, there's no more hint of teasing.

"So... ex-partner, huh?" Fabia asks. "Sounds like a piece'a shit."

Charlotte bites back a sharp retort and composes herself. "You have no idea," she says. It could be taken multiple ways.

"Guess we better dig up his file, find out where he might'a gone," Fabia said, rubbing her whiskers.

Charlotte nods silently, looking at the letter again. After a moment she sighs and folds it up. "Well, I'm glad you're here. You can help haul the wagon back to my flat!"

Fabia sighs, the kind of sigh only a charr can manage, with a gravelly growl hidden under it.

Charlotte cranks a few levers and the racks of flower vases are withdrawn into the wagon. She pulls the brightly colored tarp down over the sides and secures it, then pulls out a sturdy leather tow-rope and holds it out to Fabia with a smile. "I'm so lucky to have a partner with superior musculature!"

Fabia wordlessly takes the tow-rope and starts moving the cart toward Charlotte's place, and despite her expression it hardly seems like any effort.

Charlotte follows a few steps behind, keeping pace with the cart wheels. She taps the folded letter against her hand, face troubled.

Her flat is just a few blocks away and it includes some kind of garage or something in which she keeps her flower wagon. By the time they reach it, Charlotte seems to have sorted through her feelings. Her expression is bland and businesslike.

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