Collection of One-Shots

》my little terran

"You fight well, but still your Terran blood makes you innately weak," Ronan speaks as if he as absolute control over what happens in the galaxy, though he does not, he can only have true control over his war ship and in the sick way of the Kree he does. She growls beneath her breathe and charges forward, extending her hands to allow the green energy to gather, crackling in the stoic air of the Dark Aster. The intensity of her attack takes the Accuser by surprise, but he steps back and the girl slams into the metallic wall. Her shoulder hangs limp as she rams the joint back into place, blood trickles from the side of her temple. For so long it has been training, hours upon hours of training, whether it is with Korath, Nebula, or Ronan himself, she was constantly training, and she hated her body for being weaker than her spirit and ambition.

"And how do you expect me to prove myself in battle if you keep me locked up like an artifact? I have been trained by you. Allow me to show you my loyalty, Ronan," a grim smile takes over her face as she strolls purposefully towards the leader. "I will slay a thousand Xandarians," she stands before him, not daring to look away but keeps her eyes trained on his own violet irises, rimmed with the pitch war paint, his black lips curl into an unsightly smile revealing the stained teeth of the Kree, a truly incongruous type of beauty.

"Your spirit is admirable," he pauses and lashes out, gripping her forearm to the point she feared the bone would splinter beneath his hand. "But it will be your demise." Though she wishes to cringe, she refrains, keeping her face unchanged. Ronan continues to look at the small human girl, almost in awe of the strength she could muster from her pathetic body, but it was something else within her that called to him.

What he did not notice was the ball of energy that had formed in her hand, or when she pressed her hand against his chest. The Kree fanatic was sent to the wall his back was to, a deadly smirk forming on his lips as he moved with deadly precision towards the girl while she stood rooted in place, expecting the worst. Her body braced for impact but he stops naught even an inch away from her before tossing her over his shoulder. She shrieks in shock and carelessly bangs on his back, knowing that the action would do nothing to him.

"Ronan," she warns, though why she would use that tone of voice with him is unknown, his armor presses into her stomach but he does not care, nor does she fully realize that it could be cutting into her skin. The leader strides out of the vast training room and through corridors, his minions and servants eye the two oddly, from the first day she had been on the Dark Aster everyone could sense something between the two, Gamora and Nebula loathed it completely as she easily gained his favor.

The path to her room on board his ship had become second nature and though she did not see ahead the features that passed by were familiar to her, she squirms and he grips her tightly and instantly she stills. Their pace breaks to a halt as he pushes the heavy door open and then it takes mere seconds before he has dropped her to the bed. "You must pay for your insolence Clara," his voice is rough and low, as always but this time there is something laced within the voice that nearly always caused chills to course over her skin.

Usually he would deposit her atop crumpled sheets and leave swiftly, locking the door behind him, it was a way to ensure her safety, though why he cared was beyond him, but this time he didn't leave he, eyes the Terran girl, scrutinizing every feature visible to his eyes. She huffs and crosses her arms across her chest, looking back at the warlord who once held her captive, giving up at whatever she had planned; Clara falls back to her bed. "How will I pay for my insolence, my dear Ronan?" Sarcasm drips off her words, but not because of hatred, or anything of the likes, it was simply in her nature, and he had grown to enjoy the grotesque and unforgiving nature of his little Terran.

The Accuser steps toward her, she remains as is, lying back on the soft sheets. "How do you wish to be punished? I could flog you if you so desire, perhaps bruise your delicate skin with my weapon, though I do not wish for you to choose such actions," as he finishes he leans forward, trapping the majority of her body beneath his torso. She grins wickedly at their position and quickly pivots, throwing off his weight so that she can sit astride him, and though he could easily revert their position; he allows Clara the pleasure of straddling him, a moment of victory.