It’s a classic happy ending. Auradon is wide awake, free from the curse. The antagonist Audrey can’t harm anyone. She’s trapped in slumber like her mother once was. After tonight - hell, maybe she should keep at it for a while.
All is well yet Evie feels empty.
She’s tried to fulfill it. She ate a bit of Jane’s cake and had a few chocolates. There remains the belief she thought she rid of - embedded into her by the Evil Queen’s warning of the scale numbers rising and cheeks filling - stays like a bad omen.
She shrugs. Whatever. She isn’t her mother - she’s nothing like her. She digs the fork in. The icing is bland although it tasted delicious the first time. No matter how much she distracts herself - sketching, eating, drinking, talking out loud to herself: it’s nothing.
Betrayal is brutal like that.
Her blue hair sits through her fingers as she looks at the moon. The night was too eventful. She knew Audrey was spiteful, but never expected her to turn out so darkly. And she always took Mal - cool, pretty, loving but venomous Mal - as someone she could trust. Someone who would never lie to her. One night could change her perspective on a lot of things.
The stars twinkle. Wake up, Auradon, she thinks. Wake up too, Evie, because it’s time she realizes something, opens her eyes to the fact that Mal could do her wrong so many times and she’d forgive her just as much. She needs to quit drawing and think exactly why that is.
Since they were kids on the Isle, Mal was always blunter. Mal fought anyone who dared look at them the wrong way. Maybe she was born that way.
“Stop crying.”
“I’m not crying, loser,” the daughter of Maleficent had insisted. Evie touched down on the purple bruise on her cheekbone and the evidence was there: tears sticking to her face. Green eyes flickered with the pain she so vehemently denied.
Evie held the nearly-melted ice to the injury. Her friend kept dodging it. In Mal’s head, she didn’t need any help. Now she had Evie’s hand placed around her nape, because whether she liked it or not, there were consequences. Those consequences were being coddled, not the bruises.
Mal was so small. Still is, Evie reminds herself. It brings her some pride to say that she’s a whole lot taller than the girl who was barely five feet. But the flashback of tiny little Mal fighting off a man twice her size, struggling but persevering and oh-God-so-angry, brought her chills. She wondered how a man could go against a teenager without some bruised pride and still lose.
“You can’t just fight anyone who provokes you.”
“Yes I can,” Mal replied. The cold bore down her cheek - she winced and shrugged the insistent hand away. “And you can’t stop me.”
“But M,” Evie’s voice broke, “look what happened to you.”
The rebellious light in Mal’s face died in that second. It was as if the dragon in her had been chained. The cure was just Evie breaking down and begging for her to be careful. While Mal saw it as another victory won, Evie saw nothing except dried blood on thin pale thighs, wounds everywhere, and bruises matching the purple of her hair.
The lantern glow of her eyes couldn’t bring her to meet Evie’s.
“You can’t keep hurting yourself,” said Evie. It was a command, not a plea. She wouldn’t take any other way. “I won’t let you.”
Mal’s lips were parted. She regarded her friend with an emotionless look then curled up on the bunk wordlessly. Her tears fought not to wet the itchy blanket when she heard Evie sobbing quietly in the dark.
When Evie had properly cried herself to sleep, the two of them young and unsure in a night of pitch black, Mal said she was sorry. What she didn’t say that the reason her knuckles were wounded was because it was for her. For Evie, the one she loved too much. She couldn’t stand to hear the man talk about her like that. Like she was someone who didn’t have anybody.
Three short knocks rap on the wooden door. Carlos must be back from his mini reunion with Jane. They were going on pretty steadily. Evie closes her sketchbook, straightens her dress, and meets him at the door.
Only it isn’t him. Or Jay or Doug or God forbid Ben or anyone else. It’s Mal, the first and last person she needs to see.
The short hair is too good a look on her. Evie hurts at how those lips still capture her attention in every way except on top of hers. How could she resist her? Mal’s eyes are watery and she’s so beautiful that Evie can’t stand it. She can’t stand to see her.
“Not tonight M,” she says. Her flaw has always been being kind. She could tell her a lot of things - you lied to me Mal, you hurt me, you can’t win me back after that - but she doesn’t.
She shuts the door to make it easier for both of them. Mal blocks it with her boot. They make eye contact for the first time.
Evie grew up knowing exactly which colors look good together. Fashion runs on palettes and aesthetics - if it doesn't compliment or look good, it isn’t worth anything. And tonight, Mal’s green eyes glow and make visible the tears streaking her pale cheeks. She’s so pretty. It shouldn’t be that hard to turn her away.
“I said -”
“Please.” Mal’s voice shakes. “Please…listen to me.”
Evie’s hand loses its tension on the door knob. She wants to turn back into stone and let Mal’s words fall on deaf ears. But she’s the only girl she ever had, and she means so much more to her than her pride.
She exhales. “Put that pout away first.”
The purple-haired girl gulps, trying to tense her jaw. She almost pouts again when Evie allows her inside. She just wants it to go back to the way it was - Evie’s arms around her; hell, Evie’s lips on her; she needs comfort so bad it’s making her gnaw at the bone.
Evie crosses her arms. If Mal could cut the tension with her sword, she would. But this is Evie. Not everything can be solved with a fight.
“I know I hurt you.” She looks down at her feet where inevitable tears blot the carpet. She’s a weakling when it comes to apologies; she’ll do it anyway. “I know I can’t…just walk up to you and say it but I’m so sorry.”
Evie’s gaze softens. Her voice is nevertheless firm. “Sorry for what?”
Everything feels so heavy. Mal is doing everything she can not to get on her knees and beg. If it comes down to it she might do just that. Forget her dignity. It was lost the moment she lied to her. She just wants her best friend back.
God, this is harder than she thought. Evie’s throat burns. Every part of her wants to give in to natural instincts, to do what they always do: wrap her in an embrace, be there for her, do all the things she likes to do. There’s a lesson here however that needs to be screwed through that hard head.
Mal whimpers childishly. She hates it when Evie gets cruel when all she’s used to is her soft voice, soft hands, soft everything. She can’t say she doesn’t deserve it now.
“I’m sorry for lying,” she whispers. Each second that passes renders her voice more broken. There’s her heart too, pumping against her chest and searching for redemption. “And for being careless. I’m sorry for betraying the Isle, Evie please believe me, I’ll make it better-”
She can’t help it. She surges forward for a hug, only to be hurt when Evie steps back. By now her eyes are like crystals in water. That nose Evie loves to see wrinkle is red.
Evie looks down at her. She can’t keep up this facade anymore. “No more lying to me?”
“No more lies. Please, E.”
For some reason, she’s never been able to be angry at Mal for too long. She had lied to her, hurt her, betrayed her trust - they’re nothing to Evie right now. None of it matters when she knows Mal’s word is good.
Maybe she forgives too easily. Maybe she’s in love. Her painful laugh is sandpapery, dragging through lumps in her throat and the pain that’s settled in so little time, as she opens her arms.
Mal launches into her like it’s the only thing she’s ever wanted to do. Evie’s crying too. Mal’s warmth works past all that leather and fills the emptiness in her. She’s all she will ever need - just her little girl bunched up in her arms, legs around her hips, mouth on her neck.
She holds her tight. “Don’t think that I’m letting you off so easy,” she mumbles through her hair, “just because you’re so cute when you cry.”
Evie is so relieved to hear Mal laugh again. “I’m cute doing whatever.”
“Don’t I know it. I love you too much. That’s why you get away with everything.”
Mal’s smile dies. Is she taking advantage of her? No. Her little tricks and tortures were meant only for anyone who hurt her. That goes for the cruel teachers and harsh classmates, not her best friend.
It comes to her like a needle to the finger: maybe she’s as wicked as they say. Her villain of a mother made sure all those expectations she failed to meet crash down on her now. She can’t ever be good when she’s only taught to be as cruel as she can be.
She can’t help it. Her soft pink lips are on Evie’s face. Fuck, she’s proving it all right. Never able to control herself; never able to choose the worst battles. Evie gasps, a short broken sound. The tears fill the slots of her collarbone as Mal goes on kissing her - those pouty lips devoting themselves to her brow, jawline, cheek. What’s worse is she doesn’t tell her to stop.
Only: “Baby, we said it’ll never happen-”
“I’ll be good this time around,” Mal whispers, her breath broken and fiery against her cheek. Her whiny mantra goes on. “Not gonna lie anymore, I’ll work hard, be a good Queen. For you. For Auradon. I’ll be good.”
Mal had a knack for not keeping these promises, didn’t she? She kissed Evie when she was a little girl - just want to know if the True Love thing is…you know, real, Evie had excused - and they both swore it wouldn’t cross their minds again. Despite that she thought about it everyday. The night she admitted she liked Ben she kissed her too. She remembers Evie crying and telling her she wanted her to do whatever makes her happy.
She’ll break this oath to found a new one. Here she’s forever honest with Evie, even when it means holding her again.
Evie is getting warm too. She’s forever spellbound by those pouty lips. She’s seen them touch Ben’s and felt a growing anger that was not fit for a princess. Those same lips called her the Fairest Loser and told her to make her come and begged for mercy.
Now they’re on her neck and chest and anywhere Mal could reach. Here on out the thought of how this was infidelity - that Mal was bound to be married sometime next year - doesn’t cross her mind with fear. Somehow she can’t think of Chad or Doug or any of the men she’s tried to substitute for her right now. It’s just Mal.
It’s always been Mal.
“M.”
“Hm?”
Evie twirls her fingers through purple hair and tugs the way she knows Mal likes it. “If you’re gonna kiss me, make sure you do it properly.”
And she shows her what that means. A look of shock crosses Mal when Evie pushes her down on the bed, lips locked around a whimpering mouth. She touches her and feels the heat burning within her. It only makes her want to tear off all the impossible belts, the tight leather that she’s prayed wouldn’t draw a stare from her anymore.
Uma didn’t have to push them overboard when they’re already drowning in each other. Every cute sound Mal groans out…still so sensitive, she notes. She’s surely trying to kill her. How could she keep herself together when her small body lifts and yearns for at least one touch, one kiss?
“Please.” Mal’s eyes are beautifully green under the spotlight of moon.
Evie doesn’t know if she should give in. She’s so used to being considerate all this time. Resorting to stealing glances in a crowd full of nobodies, not letting her touch linger when she’s fitting another dress on her. Should she stop doing that now? When Mal’s begging to be taken right on their bed?
She is now looking up at her with the most tearful face. If that isn’t a clear invitation.
The scared, perhaps innocent expression falls. Mal likes that about her. Likes what a gentle prod of consent can do to her, how it can bring her to be the epitome of roughness she isn’t. She whines happily into the kiss they share again, reveling in the sound of torn handcrafted leather off her torso, until Evie nips at her bottom lip. Hard.
Her evil smirk pushes against Mal’s yelping mouth. It doesn't fade even when she’s stripping her.
She’s so strong, Mal thinks, too turned on to think about anything else. Those toned arms and thighs have filled her daily thoughts past their timed schedule. There’s no way she isn’t aware of it herself when she’s manhandling Mal like that. The thought that she could do anything to the Queen-to-be pinned beneath her and she can’t do anything, won’t do anything to resist - it drives Evie crazy.
Maybe it’s the villain in her.
She grabs those dainty wrists and swiftly curls one of the many black belts around them. Mal doesn’t have time to react. Her hands are already secured above her, tied to the headboard.
“Okay, first of all: hot,” Mal chuckles. “And second of all, how did you do that?”
Evie knots the makeshift handcuffs around a loop in the frame and shrugs. “I guess I’m just gifted.”
“Bet you are.”
“Oh, are you getting smart with me?”
Evie’s voice is its usual soothing soft but there’s a gravel in it that Mal chases. The tone that warns her not to start something she can’t finish. The problem is Mal likes the struggle, likes how weak she feels under the fingers that trace the plane of her midriff.
“N-No, ma’am.”
She tilts her head as Evie grabs her jaw. It’s ingrained in Evie to know what gets her moaning, begging. And the princess would use that knowledge well.
“Do you expect me to go gentle with you?”
She sniffles. “No.”
It’s not like she deserved any babying after what she did. The pain flows freely inside her. It’ll be there forever. She’ll just have to learn to live with it, like she’s learned to live with the fear of inherited evil in her; with the feeling of her mother’s malignant eyes on her at all times.
Evie wipes Mal’s quivering cheek with the back of her fingerless glove. The anxiety translates into the tremor of her slim hips, the sweat in those hands bound in those cuffs.
“Do you want me to be?” she asks softly.
Mal finds herself shaking her head and meaning it.
Evie devours her breasts immediately. She pinches one of the pink nubs and easily draws a moan. She’s figured out a long time ago the reason why Mal likes her shirts tight almost to the point of suffocation. A harsh squeeze shatters the moan that tears painfully through her throat, makes her tug at the cruel bonds that prevent her from guiding Evie.
Mal’s skin is flushed. Her mouth, fuck. Evie’s eager lips are leaving her nipples sore and peaked. Her chest is slick with open-mouthed kisses. But when she bites down, teeth rounded upon soft flesh, Mal cries out. She has to remember Evie’s just getting started. She can’t orgasm too easily.
She’s so wet - so impossibly soaked that Evie wonders if she’s been plotting this. Perhaps she practiced all the ways to seduction before knocking at the door. Not unlike Mal at all.
Still toying with the little nub, she taps nowhere near gentle rhythms on Mal’s clit. Encouraged by the wetness sticking to her palm, she rolls the pulsing bundle of nerves between her fingers until Mal nearly cries out in frustration.
“Inside,” Mal whimpers. She pulls frustratedly at the belt and tries her hardest not to cast a spell and break her restraints. “Evie, can’t you?”
“Hmm.”
Evie places a forearm on her tummy to keep her hips from shifting. It doesn’t help. Each lightning-fast flick makes Mal sob from deep in her throat and move her hips purposefully against guiding fingers.
“Keep still and I’ll think about it.”
Mal‘s little gasps are fragmented. No protesting whines, surprisingly. She wills her heart to slow down. Not one move that could tell Evie all about how needy she is. Of course her trembling legs ruin her mission. With Evie working at her bundle of nerves fervently, how could she stop quivering?
She curls her fingers above her into determined little fists. With her eyes shut tightly she therefore isn’t able to see Evie admire her, watching her every part of Mal struggle to obey when she’s been beaten into not doing so her entire life.
“ Breathe,” Evie says, smiling proudly. “There we go.”
And to think this was the Mal Bertha who broke all the rules now bending for a simple instruction. So pretty and primed underneath her.
“Such a good girl.”
Mal burns up. They’ve been together their whole lives and along the way Evie figured her out. Maleficent was never particularly lenient with compliments, nor was Mal ever used to being treated the way Evie treats her. Sometimes she needs a little love.
She doesn’t deserve it.
Evie notices the fevered sobs and kisses her again. Nobody in the Isle or Auradon can kiss like Evie. It always gets her ears burning at the ends, Evie biting her lower lip with a hand placed possessively on her throat. The fairly light grip suggests hey, who knows, she might take it a mile too far with her if she doesn’t mind herself the next time she’s testy. And both of them know Mal loves pushing her buttons.
Evie slips inside her and that’s when she starts to second-guess if she’s truly forgiven. She can’t keep up, much less when it’s three fingers stretching her out. Evie always did start out with just one to get her used to it, then two if Mal could breathe. Definitely not happening now.
Her pleas are heedless. Evie’s attention is on dragging an orgasm out of her. Her wrist is a throbbing ache now but that doesn’t mean she’ll stop curling her fingers, playing with her clit. She thrusts deeper and Mal’s eyes widen. Her hiccupping sob lets Evie know she’s definitely found the spot.
She smiles wickedly. God, can Evie pick up on things too fast. She could say the same thing now about Evie heartlessly savaging her. Her legs are jelly and she’s screaming, struggling against leather. The wet thrusts and the palm pressing into the pit of her stomach don’t let up.
Every time those fingers disappear in her little slit Mal’s getting the feeling Evie’s determined to make her take all of her. There’s an anger she’s not once voiced out in the way she ruins her. She’s so deliciously ruthless that she wouldn’t exactly say no.
Evie could come from the feeling of Mal’s tight cunt alone. She’s so wet and hot for her that it’s intoxicating. It could make her do things she didn’t know she was capable of.
Is it a curse? The lust is a power beyond words. That’s why she’s afraid of what she can do. She’ll go overboard. She might bruise that Snow White skin beyond healing. If Mal looks at her with those watery eyes and cries her name again she’d kiss her until those lips come out poutier and more swollen.
“Oh God Evie, I can’t, I can’t-”
Fuck.
She makes out with Mal again, stealing her breath so those pretty noises can’t tempt her anymore.
“Quiet now,” Evie warns, voice dropping ominously. “Do you want Ben’s guards to wonder who their Queen’s moaning for?”
It's not supposed to push Mal closer to orgasm but it does. The thrill of it is undeniable. Ben’s smart; he surely knows something is up. More likely than not he’s seen her look at Evie in the distance. He’s aware Evie’s been a part of her life longer than he was, and could piece together that she was the first and sole person she fell in love with. Mal bites her lip and nearly draws blood. She shakes her head.
“Mal.” Evie sighs disappointedly. “I thought I told you not to lie anymore.”
She roughly shoves a fourth digit in her and it’s over. Mal’s scream slices through the empty night. Her knees bump together but Evie forces them apart. It’s not over. She asked for cruelty, right?
Oh, she’s getting it.
“Don’t cry on me here,” Evie drawls. Her soft clear voice could make the dirtiest words sound pure. “Smart girl can take it, yeah?”
She’s so sweet compared to how she’s pushing Mal’s limits. A second orgasm jerks the smaller girl’s body into her. The sounds she’s making don’t sound comprehendible anymore. But she wants to be good this time, to make up for all the little fallacies.
“Oh shit, oh, oh my God!” Mal’s stomach tightens again. Her nails dig into her own wrist and she’s coming all over Evie’s hand. Every touch sets her on fire.
Mal’s walls flutter exhaustedly around Evie. Her voice isn’t its careless quality anymore. It’s jagged and broken, hitching on breathless moans. Almost like she’s crying. Sometimes she forgets how delicate Mal is. Fragile like a dove rather than a dragon.
She brings her soaked fingers to Mal’s tender lips. She’s elated at the dainty mouth sucking her in like she’s made for it. “How do you taste?”
Mal giggles after a few seconds. “Like royal strawberries.”
Evie rolls her eyes although she’s smiling. After she loosens the belt on Mal’s wrists she observes the damage on them. There’s a lot of it to go around. Red, atremble, and clearly printed with buckle and metal. She kisses them better the best she can.
Then she studies the rest of Mal’s small frame. Forbidden thought after forbidden thought pollutes her head. She’s not supposed to like it, the way she’s reduced Mal down to all slick thighs and purple hickeys and bruised mouth. Did her mother feel that, the excitement in her chest, when she had the Huntsman slain? When she oversaw the torture of the duchesses and heard their screams?
She’s so far away now from the Evil Queen yet there’s part of the woman that thrives in her.
“I really am sorry, you know,” Mal tells her once more. There’s a sincerity in her eyes she wouldn’t have found before. She’s trying to tell her something she's scared of even talking about.
“M.” Evie doesn’t realize that she’s crying. “I’d have forgiven you if you killed me.”
“If I kiss you, would you wake up and come back to me?”
Ben’s going to marry this sickeningly gorgeous girl one day and she won’t think he deserves her. Soon Doug will follow his footsteps. The ring will look ugly on Evie’s finger diamond aside. Meanwhile Mal would look beautiful as ever in the white gown she’ll tailor for her.
Evie pulls the handcuffs up to her and kisses Mal hard. She won’t dwell on tomorrow.
