Collection of One-Shots

》stand accused

He grips her jaw tightly, bringing his face close to hers. Despite the force he uses she smiles and lifts up, twining her arms around his neck, creating the notion that she would kiss him, but with the correct amount of leverage the Terran girl pulls herself up. Knocking the Kree leader to his back. Clara leans over Ronan, her eyes gleaming in the low light of the Dark Aster. "I can't believe you fell for that again. Are my lips truly so irresistible?" He swings his leg, knocking her balance off and with a dull thud she lands atop his chest and within a second he has her pinned beneath his weight.

His smile is unsettling but Clara has found it within herself to adore it. "Rest assured Little Terran, I will not fall for your trickery again." She breathes steadily though her heart is pounding, loudly at the new-found position. His eyes pierce her to the very soul and the grip on her wrists slackens, allowing her to trace over his brow. Today he goes without armor, without the war paint, it is how she prefers him. The doors to the training room bursts open, Nebula looks furious as she observes her leader and the Terran girl on the floor.

"Thanos will have words with you, Ronan." Clara frowns as he removes his weight from her body but he extends his hand pulling the girl up to her feet. The leader agrees to the meeting and sends Nebula away, a permanent grimace seems to be on her modified face. Ronan looks to his side at Clara before leaving the room, leaving her alone. She wipes the sweat from her brow and moves to collect her armor's outer jacket before wandering the halls of the Dark Aster.

The flagship is shrouded in darkness and is a fortress within itself, the only light comes in the form of a hazy blue color. At first she hated the darkness, the Sakaarans, she hated how she came to be in the hands of an alien warlord. Then he began to train her, at first she was left to the hands of Gamora and Nebula but soon Ronan himself aided her and that was when everything was set spinning into motion. She revealed her power, gifted to her by a diviner, he helped her channel it and use it, and she grew stronger, more durable and suited to living with him.

Clara bites her bottom lips as she passes by the largest room on the ship, where ceremonies were held, meetings were attended, where his throne sat for here on this ship he was the king and conqueror. The doors are sealed but she can hear the disembodied voice, though she cannot make out the words. Ronan's reply is much clearer though and she instantly knows that she is the topic of this conversation. "The Terran girl is not of your concern." She wants scream at the revelation, but truly it cannot be called such as Nebula's insults still ring in her ears. You've made him soft. You're nothing but pitiful Terran, once he's had his fill you'll be gone.

She runs to the one place solitude is guaranteed. The doors of her room slam behind her and never has she hated this ship more. Clara's hands burn with the energy crackling at her fingertips, begging to be released, instead of inflicting damage upon the room she tears her top away and strips herself of other clothing before entering the wet room. The pungent liquid that cascades over her body is not water but within the months she had grown used to it. It stings the open wounds she has and burns at the bruises and despite the pain she remains under the stream of liquid, her tears indistinguishable.

The human girl leans over the basin, looking into the reflective surface hanging above to see the cut on her cheek is gone, the scratches on her back and hips slowly seal themselves. She does not even startle when her doors are thrown open for she knows it is Ronan and by the heaviness of his footfalls he is beyond angry. She wants to turn and face him but he is already behind her, his body pressing against her, hand loosely wrapped around her neck. Their reflection is shown in the hazy surface, his full armor had been placed upon his body and now the black war paint graced his face, making his presence menacing.

His breath is unbearably hot against her neck and the hand that lies there reminds her just how fragile she is. "There will be no tenderness. I will show no mercy, girl." Her breath hitches as his hand tightens, but suddenly it is gone and she is thrown onto the bed, his hands pinning her with so much force had the surface not been soft the bones would have splintered. She will not back away, nor will she allow him to see her discomfort at the moment.