Hey Guys! So i’ve had an idea brewing for a little while to start a multi-chapter fic entitled “The Chmerkovskiy’s” that would revolved around Val and Sharna predominantly with a little bit of Maks and Peta. I was never a hardcore shipper of Maks and Peta so I’ve never written a story about them but they’re super cute so I’m down to try a little bit with this story. It’s taken me a while to start it because I had some idea of what I wanted to do but not a clear cut path, until @michellelabelle36 posted a comment the other day saying that Val and Sharna need to realize that they need to be together at Maks and Peta’s wedding. Thus came, my new story-The Chmerkovskiy’s. So here it is! The story is predominantly Chmergess and will be, but let me know if you would like more Maks and Peta or less Maks and Peta. I’m open to anything. Like/Reblog and comment! Always love reading what you guys think!
The day had come quicker than any of them had imagined. Even though a lot of time had passed since the proposal, it seemed like Sway Miami was only yesterday. But still, their special day was long overdue. Peta, Sharna, Nicole, Witney, Lindsay and all of Peta’s bridesmaids were gathered in her pamper room preparing for the ceremony which was less than an hour away. They each were doing something different to make sure Peta was ready. She was in her gown, sitting in front of a mirror getting her hair done up and her veil put in. Sharna was a few feet behind her dressing Shai and making sure he looked neat before she handed him off to Val, who was coming to pick him up before the ceremony. The baby was wearing a blue tuxedo with a black lapel, matching the groomsmen ensemble. Sharna heard a knock on the door and picked up Shai, carrying him into the hallway. She walked out, closing the door behind her and turned to see Val, standing against the opposite wall. Sharna passed Shai over as she patted his head and straightened his bowtie one more time. She looked up to Val, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m ok. Maks, on the other hand is frickin nervous. He wants to see Peta.”
“Soon enough he will.”
“Yup. And then they will be married and we’ll be partying it up at the reception before we know it.”
“Save a dance for me, will ya?”
Sharna looked at him. “Always.” She squeezed his arm before turning away to head back into the room.
But her “wounded doe with a spine of steel” act should actually be quite appealing to Jon. This lady goes to parlays, to battle planning sessions, rides across the snowy and cold North to secure allies, jumps off towers to rescue herself and is so close to the Battle of Winterfell that she literally gets there five seconds after the castle is taken. Oh, and she killed someone. She is as close to a fierce warrior woman as she could get while having no fighting skills. She is certainly no longer the type of lady who sits over her needlework, waiting to be rescued from her tower of villainous captivity. In fact, from Jon’s point of view Sansa might even come across as a self-rescuing, fierce, contrarian redhead with a killer instinct and an inability to trust his commitment to her cause. Who occasionally likes to question the depth of his knowledge.
94. “If I ever see you anywhere near her/him, you’ll have to deal with me!”
Everything happened way too fast for Justin to comprehend. One moment he was sat in the passenger seat of Monty’s car, the next his heart literally skipped a beat as Monty nearly hit Alex. He knew that he couldn’t do anything, so he laughed it off, keeping up his usual ‘cold jock’ front.
He hadn’t at all expected Alex to retaliate the way he did, even just the yelling surprised him. He was too stunned to do anything except continue to laugh. It hadn’t even hit him as he stepped out of the car how serious the situation was. It wasn’t until he made eye contact with Alex that it hit him. He’d never seen that look in Alex’s eyes before. He looked so distant and unfazed, he clearly wasn’t thinking straight.
The panic really set in. Justin was silently begging the blonde to shut up. He didn’t want to see him get hurt. They hadn’t exactly ventured out of the ‘friends’ label yet, but that was mostly because they were still figuring their own labels out, let alone what their label together was. Justin hated the thought of Alex getting hurt- he needed the boy to shut up.
Silence settled over the courtyard for a second, and Justin let out a breath of relief. He’d celebrated too early though, as Alex lunged forward and pushed Monty. Justin knew there was no going back now, and he could only hope that Monty would take pity on the boy and walk away. This was Montgomery De La Cruz he was talking about though, and he wasn’t so lucky.
Fists were being thrown before Justin even had time to react. He could hear bone colliding with bone, and from his angle it almost looked like a fair fight, but he knew better. Before he could think of the consequences he ran forward into the fight, where he pulled Monty off of his boy. He threw him out the small gap of students which had circled around them, and Monty looked back up at him stunned, though it did nothing to change Justin’s feelings.
“If I ever see you anywhere near him, you’ll have to deal with me!” He threatened Monty.
The baseball jock stared back at him shocked, though his face slowly relaxed, knowingly. Monty simply nodded, scrambling to his feet before getting back in his car and driving off to park. The crowd, though still a little curious, began to disband, and Justin hurriedly sank to his knees at Alex’s side.
No matter how much Alex complained, Justin fussed over him, checking him over. He decided he would walk Alex home and repair him there, where they could also cuddle and he could make sure Alex ate and slept.
were smoother up close, and she had the itching nerve to touch those midnight
She loved the wind.
She was one with it as she flew around the palace, her
tawny wings bristling and its sounds soothing her. Augustus had told her to
take a night shift to guard the palace. She didn’t deny it, and took flight
into the dark purple clouds.
Val must have stayed in the wind for hours. She saw the
clouds become a gray under the moon light, and new that perhaps she stayed out
for a little too long. She missed flying. Her problems and worried got smaller,
and smaller as she flew higher, and higher. Though, even if it got
smaller—those problems and worries—they were still there. Either down below, or
on her body.
Her neck, that wore white-pink scares. Her hand that Nuan
crafted, the metal engraved with ancient Peregryn writings. And her wings, the
scars that she could never hide like the others. Especially the long white one
on the top bone of her left wing—it was stark and to her, hideous. No, Val would stay up here and forget
that. This war…Daemon…
She inhaled that fresh smell of light mist and cedar—
however particular—and pine and flowers. Daemon would have been up here with
her, laughing with her—perhaps even chase her and race. He would have beat her,
but only because she didn’t want to upset him—because he was heir and now she
Yes, enough. She had escaped for far too long.
The palace had gardens that surrounded it. Nothing that
Val particularly spent her time with. It didn’t mean that she wasn’t astounded
at the well-kept look of it. No lingering weed was in site as she lowered
towards the ground and landed—though it was messy, and she swore to herself.
She stared a while at the back of the palace and then up
to the sky.A dark and black sky—much like the wings of Illyrians.
Val took the time in the privacy of the garden to check
her weapons and wings. She had the curved blades like talons on her backside,
and the assortment of knives that were on her pants. Her wing then stretched
out and curved in front of her. Every time to flew, there would be some form of
debris that got caught in between her feathers.
Sitting down on the nearest rock, Val brushed a hand over
the feathers. She could remember seeing these wings once torn and naked.
Stripped and bare they once were, until she healed herself not too long ago.
There were still a few feathers that were shorter than the others and she
couldn’t help but curse the Cauldron.
“Rotten bitch,” she hissed as a feather fell into her
hands. Small, but it still fell. Her
hands reached over to the vacant spot, and closed her eyes— feeling the new feather grow back in its place. Her
hands warmed and soon they lit up like a sun lantern right in front of her. The
new grown feather was white—and in the glow of her hands, she was vaguely reminded
of her brother’s wings.
Daemon had white wings, which is rare among the Seraphim.
He was beautiful, and he loved his wings to shreds. Which, ideally, he had been
ended to. This garden—Daemon loved this garden. He had spent his time here,
with his half fae mate. Val could vaguely remember the half fae’s name… though
the two weren’t the best of friends, it still hurt to watch the female die. Val’s
feather soon grew tall and strong. She healed and cleaned any other feather on
her other wing, and when she finished, she wanted to go to the—
A scent hit her—odd in this part of the garden. Cedar and
a moist dew mixed together…just like how it was up in the air—but, in the air,
the moist was normal, but the cedar…There were no cedar trees where she stood
at the garden.
A wing twitched as a scaling wind flew past every feather
and she whipped around. Her hand reached for golden dagger at her thigh. She
sniffed the air again—smelling that crisp lingering scent that enticed her…
Val spread her wings slowly, feeling the wind—feeling the
presence of shadows.
“I can scent you,” she called out, her head high and her
wings flaring. “Could’ve fooled me up in the air.” She tilted her head to
sniff once more, the scent of him farther now. “You’re sloppy too, I can
sense your shadows— as quiet as they may be.”
Though it was a different male that landed in front of
her, with grace that she once had.
Cassian tightened his wings together, staring at her
oddly. Val looked around him, seeking for the second.
“Where is he?” she said, putting away the dagger she
held. Her heart, although odd, thumped so loud in her chest. She knew if he
Cassian was here, the other was as well
“Anywhere,” Cassian replied, “behind you, probably,
or flying above.”
“Careless he is, then,” Val vaguely said and looked
upwards. The smell was still there. “Makes me doubt the unwavering power
of the Illyrian.” She fluttered her wings again—searching for those shadows
that seemed so close before. “I assume it has to do with Morrigan.”
Cassian stayed silent, but when Val went back to stare at
him—there was the lone Illyrian, face as blank as ever but beautifully crafted with
those hard edges of skin and bone. Her eyes saw those shadows again, clinging
to Azriel and whispering things that she could not hear. .
Her wings folded behind her, and she sighed through her
nose in release of the tenseness between the three winged faeries.
“Out flying?” Val said, “For some sort of release
after Helion and Mor’s not so subtle intentions?”
The silent Illyrian—his features blank as ever—reflected
a sort of rage and hurt in his eyes to her. She struck something weak within
him, she guessed.
“Their intentions are none of our business, Valeryth,”
“It is when that
one—” Val waves a hand to Azriel, who in turn shifted on his feet
uncharacteristically, “— beats the shit out of Eris, even under a
carefully crafted spell, to teach him a lesson.”
Val looks away from the two Illyrians. Her eyes became
distant as she looked south. “Morrigan is a rather beautiful female, isn’t she?
Enough to lash out—but, I would’ve too if it had been me.” Her hands clenched,
and she stuffed them in her pockets. She gave the two Illyrians a
smile. “My guess is that she’s looking for a distraction with Helion—and
he wouldn’t argue that much.”
A low growl came from Azriel—and if Val wasn’t playing a
cocky bitch, she would’ve been surprised to get such a reaction out of him.
Instead, she only gave him another lustrous smile.
“Though, I have to say—she’s lost if she didn’t find that
Cassian coughed and there was a faint upturn of his
lips. “I see Helion has taught you well, Val.”
Val only shrugged and grinned wickedly. “Well, three
centuries ago I never had the pleasure of exploring my tastes.” Her feet
started moving backwards, and her eyes trailed over to the palace, where a
Peregryn had taken flight to the sky. “We should head back to the palace.
And don’t tense, lover boy, your High Lord and Lady are perfectly safe in those
She indicated for them to follow her and took them
through the gardens. She was keenly aware of the silence surrounding Azriel—and
the urge to touch those rough hands of his…
When entering the palace, Val stepped aside first.
“I assume you know where your rooms are,” she said as
Cassian passed by. Val patiently waited for Azriel to go by— until she wrapped
a gust of wind around his hand, and he stopped with grace.
Cassian had slowed his pace when he realized Azriel
wasn’t beside him. He lifted an eyebrow and saw how Val’s gaze seemed a little
predatory. He raised his eyes at Azriel, who only shook him off. With that,
Cassian left the two alone.
Once Val was sure that he was out of ear shot, she said
sultrily, “You know, I wouldn’t mind bragging to Helion about taking you
to bed.” Oh, she was playing a dangerous game with her heart— her vows.
The face that bore no emotion—wore his heart in his eyes.
Those hazel eyes betrayed the lingering rage from the meeting, and even a
little bit of consideration in her offer. Val only stared at those eyes for a
while, before she stepped closer to him. He watched with a hawk-like gaze,
letting her come closer…
Close enough to kiss that pretty mouth of his. She
couldn’t hear his breathin—no doubt the trickery of a shadowsinger—but her hand
finally touched his chest, the thick leathers rough under her hand, and felt
his heart beating.
Trailing a finger across his heart, she
said, “Should we have a distraction, Loner?” Her hand now glowed, a
pulsing heat radiated from it. She turned her head up to look at the
shadowsinger, and tilted her head.
He only stared a while at her, until he said
huskily, “A distraction would be nice.” He tried to hide the need in his
voice, the want to forget. But Val felt it in the vibrations of her healing
Val only smiled, and let her glowing hand linger over his
heart. He was so tense, so tentative of her touches. She gazed over his face,
bring her arms upwards—feeling the tense in those muscles unravel beneath her
touches. She did this, rubbing over spots of his back—and careful to not touch
his wings, not so soon. Even if his wings were smoother up close, and she had
the itching nerve to touch those midnight wings.
A light hand, calloused and rough from those captivating
scars, was placed on her hip. His eyes followed her glowing hands, the feeling
of warmth spreading. When Val’s hand reached up to his neck, he felt the weight
that he seemed to carry lift for that while as he was pulled back to a more
The shadows seem to lurk with him, but her touch kept
them at bay. He dipped his head lower—and fiercely kissed her, gripping her
hips to edge her closer. He pushed her to a wall and she made a noise of
surprise, but had fell into the kiss as well, still roaming her hands over his
body—making him relaxed but the kiss too slow for his personal needs.
Val kept it that way. For that kiss, however, she would
have shed her clothes off. Funny, she
thought, how merely moments ago, was
teasing him relentlessly about Morrigan.
She only wanted to touch Azriel—to relax him from the
tenseness that bothered his every muscle and tendon.
Azriel’s hand trailed upwards—and Val feared that he
would see her scars if she didn’t stop this temptation. Oh, but she wanted to
see this Illyrian…she wanted him bad—
Val pressed deeper into the kiss, before she pulled back
with her breathing labored. Her amber eyes stared upward to those hazel ones
and saw how confused he was.
“You had your distraction,” she breathed out, her arms
now removed from his body and the warm glow gone. “Now, it’s my turn.”
Azriel stared at her as his shadows seeped to him and the
room was less dark. He sat on a plush couch, his eyes still trailing her body.
His body leaned into the couch and said, “And what sort of distraction
would you want.”
Val only stared at his lax figure on the couch and
imagined herself on top of —no.
“It’s not really a distraction…but
venting,” she said and sat on the chair across from him.
“And here,” he said, “I thought you were going to
Val shook her head. “I wouldn’t have taken it that
“Is that so?” Azriel tilted his head to the side in question.
His dark and hair shifting along with it.
“I made a vow to not be a lover— but it doesn’t limit me
to not kiss you.”
Azriel nodded, and only waited for more. Waited for her venting.
Val only crossed her legs together and jutted her chin to his hands. “I
wanted to talk to you about—how…how you were able to live with your scars.”
A sudden ripple in the room and Val knew he knew that those
touches were not fully out of lust.
“I only wanted to heal you,” she added
quickly. “Those touches were to relax you from the morning— to make you
less tense as you were. And, to slow down your…arousal.” Thankfully her dark
skin did not betray the flush on her cheeks.
They stayed silent in the room. Whatever that was going
on in Azriel’s head, she could not pick up any sort of indication of what he
was thinking. She only hoped he didn’t think negatively of her for using her
“Why would you trust me?” Azriel finally said. His eyes
met hers—and there it was again, the question and confusion so clear in those
eyes compared to the dull of his physical features.
“Well, like I said, your scars,” Val said. “That was
the first thing I saw, and I just knew that you had went through something so
horrible— yet—” her voice began to tremble, and her eyes burned at the thought
of someone hurting this male to be so…so quiet and numb on the outside, “—
you wear those scars like they mean nothing to you. And I was so intrigued and
envious when you walked in.”
Val waited for him to respond, but was grateful when he
only let her talk. She could’ve sworn something swirled in those hazel eyes.
“I want—need to
know how you survived…” Val finally said, her voice cracking. She reached
forward tentatively to touch Azriel’s hands, but he pulled back. Her face
flinched…conceivably, she may have gone a little too far for his comfort.
But how could she resist this—this pull to his life? The
want to be there in his darkest times and happiest moments? She was so caught
up in this feeling that she didn’t consider how he would react to this.
A long pause. Then, “My brothers burned my hands.”
Val quickly turned her head up to look at him.
was schooled empty, and he only stared over at the bedside table. He pulled an
arm over the backrest of the couch he was on. His hazel eyes were stormy and
brooding, as he said once again, “I was eight.”
Her heart throbbed…She should’ve guessed it would be his
half-brothers to do such things. After all, he was a bastard Illyrian—even Val
knew the dangers of the children with that name. Yet his confession opened her
heart and soul. She wanted to ask if he felt that tug—but decided against it.
A confession for
a confession, is what lingered in those
eyes of his. He confessed twice, and she none.
“I have scars too,” she said and there was tremble in her
hands. “On my neck—” she pulled down the collar of shirt to reveal those curved
and curled marks, “—on my back and my wings…and my stomach.”
Val closed her eyes and ducked her head low. She had
never…she had never told Thesan this. Her pain and her scars seemed less important
than the villages and cities that were torn down.
“I want to heal, more than anything else,” she whispered
her last confession. “But I couldn’t find words to tell Helion or Thesan or
Augutus what happened in the chambers. How I saw my brother in front of me—”
Azriel did not let her finish. Instead, he did what
shocked her—he hugged her and mumbled something she could barely hear.
But the shock lessened, and Val only leaned into the hug,
her sobs muffled in the Illyrian leathers he wore. She cried for her brother
and his inhumane death. She cried for herself and how she succumbed to such feebleness.
She cried for her father—Thesan, who had lost a son. For Helion—and his loving
ties to her. For Rhysand—for his mask of evil to conceal her death.
But she cried for Azriel too. For he listened and didn’t say
anything and hugged her so tightly that her powers seemed to twine with his
shadows. She cried because of that fact that he had been burned by his brothers
at a young age…
She cried because she felt that tug again—on her powers—to
heal and to love this male who hugged her.
knew that his son was greatly distracted once he started to ask random
questions. He remembered reading about toddlers asking over 200
questions a day, or a week, he couldn’t recall exactly, but he thought:
Yeah, I think I’ve answered nearly 50 of them fuckers in the past 20 minutes.
He didn’t mind the funny, odd questions Jude had asked; he needed it,
he wanted his mind off Valerie for just a little while.
“Why is dis good?” Jude asked, raising a blueberry up in between his tiny sticky fingers.
hummed, sounding intrigued -as he learned from Valerie- “I don’t know,
Jude. Your tummy just thinks it’s really fuckin’ yummy.”
Jude giggled, popping the blueberry into his mouth, “S'good!”
Jude could ask another question, Negan’s phone rang and vibrated on
the table top. He frowned upon seeing “School” as an incoming call; “What
the fuck?” He muttered.
**just a warning, if you don’t like reading smut then don’t continue reading!
I had been dating Jamie Benn of the Dallas Stars for a little over a year and a half now, and it was definitely going good. He’s everything I’ve always imagined myself having when it comes to my ideal man. Him being a hockey player was just a bonus.