#//takes place before star death and kidnapping

[the-silly-salmon]

Cozmic was laying on her stomach, slightly kicking her legs in the air. she was on the floor of the living room, sketching out flowers. after listening to V talk about flower meanings, and recently drawing with J, she had been wanting to practice. there were a few other books, scattered around in a messy manner. She wasn't reading them, not like she could. she was simply looking at the photos, having barely ever seen flowers on copper 9. The pencils and art supplies were scattered around the floor. it was around 2 AM, and everybody was asleep.

..almost everybody.

Salmon trods out of her room, reaching over into the fridge and grabbing a small tin of oil- inspecting her surroundings and setting her eyes onto Cozmic’s figure.

“Of course you’re still up..”

[ellswritings]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Derek Hale x Reader

TW: Mentions of blood and death, werewolfy things, Stiles being an absolute spaz, age gap, Jennifer Blake (cause she’s a warning on her own), major feels, and a tiny bit of angst, some bad words. I think that it y’all. Once again, let me know if I missed something!

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

There have always been two constants in Y/N L/N life when it came to living in Beacon Hills, life threatening creatures and the possibility of her imminent death. When she became friends with Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall in Kindergarten, she wasn’t completely aware of what she signed up for. Most people would think the constant Star Wars marathons with Stiles and lacrosse training with Scott would’ve drove her away early on, but she stayed. Not that they’d let her leave even if she tried. Having them as her best friends has always been a blessing and a curse. She would do anything for them, but she didn’t know anything included becoming a supernatural creature.

A werewolf to be precise.

The night of the dance their sophomore year, Y/N had seen Lydia walk out of the dance in which she assumed was in search of Jackson. But when she saw the blonde boy lingering in the hallways, she had a feeling something was off. When she went in search of the girl and found her at the lacrosse field, there was no escaping their inevitable fate. That was one of the many times Y/N thought she’d meet her end. Watching Peter Hale run towards them at fully speed before taking a nice bite out of their skin was not on her bucket list for the evening.

Since then there have been plenty adventures for the “McCall Pack” as she’d like to call it. Allison’s grandfather Gerard coming to town, the Kanima, Derek and his pack trying to kill Lydia, then finding out it was Jackson, only to have him turn into a werewolf and run off to London. There might have been a couple kidnappings and restraining order somewhere in there, but those are minor details.

And, of course, with a new year comes new threats. There has been a recent string of kidnappings that turned into murders that none of them have been able to solve yet. They’ve tried as a group to brainstorm, meeting at Derek’s new loft every so often to get the entire groups opinion, but nothing has come out of it. Well, besides spending extra time with the Alpha. That’s an aspect Y/N didn’t mind in the slightest.

She had no issues making herself at home in his loft, despite his halfhearted protests. No one could understand how Y/N had the ability to just throw her feet up on his coffee table and not get her throat ripped out. It’s either she has no regard for her life, or Derek has a soft spot for her which is something no one saw coming.

The two have always had an interesting relationship. Y/N enjoys arguing, similar to Stiles hence why they get along so well. She loves getting under Derek’s skin and pushing every button she knows he has. It’s almost as if she goes out of her way to try and get a reaction out of him. No one blames her really, it gets entertaining hearing them go at it. Especially for Stiles.

Whenever anyone needs to ask Derek for a favor, the first person they send his way is Y/N. For one, they’ve only ever heard the word “yes” come out of his mouth when talking to her, and she’s the most likely one not to flinch if she has to kill him. She has a conscious, it’s just not always active.

Y/N rides up to Beacon Hills High on her motorcycle before parking in the thin spot near the bike rack. She carefully takes off her helmet, smoothing down any stray pieces of hair that might’ve fallen out of place. She had been told to go to Derek’s the night before to ask him if he’s found anything out about their new lethal friend, the only issue is when she got there, she could hear her new teacher Jennifer Blake in the apartment with him. She felt the urge to completely kick the door down and interrupt whatever conversation was happening, but she practiced a high level of self-restraint. She knew Derek was aware of her being there. He could smell her the same way she could him. But the hot white rage that filled Y/N’s chest forced her to walk away and ride angrily back to Stiles’s place.

Scott and Stiles watch their friend from the steps at the entrance to the school. Her ever present frown is a little troubling as it is much more prominent than usual. They didn’t get the full details about what angered her so much the night before, but it’s clearly still bothering her. She takes the keys out of her bike before stomping up to them. When she notices them staring at her, she lifts an eyebrow, “Something you wanna say?” She challenges. Both boys look at each other and simultaneously shoot her a fake smile.

“You– you look nice today,” Stiles comments awkwardly as he rubs the back of his neck. “Did you uh– did you do something new with your hair?”

Y/N stared at him blankly while Scott mentally facepalms at his friends attempt at covering up their concern. She simply shakes her head, looping her arms through both of theirs. “I’m fine if that’s what you guys are wondering. Derek was busy last night so I just came back to the house. That’s it,” she explains shortly, leaving no room for questions.

Scott scrunches his nose and a look of realization dawns on his face. It quickly morphs into disgust the more he thinks about it and Stiles furrows his eyebrows curiously. He looks over Y/N’s head and waits for his other best friend to clue him in on what’s got him all bothered. Scott makes sure Y/N’s more focused on weaving through the crowd before mouthing “She’s jealous” over to Stiles.

“I’m gonna grab my notebook real quick,” she tells them. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as she reaches her locker, Stiles leans over to attempt a discreet conversation with Scott. “What do you mean she’s jealous?” He asks in a whisper. “Jealous of what?”

“I don’t know,” Scott answers, watching Y/N carefully. “But I’m assuming it had something to do with what happened at Derek’s last night.”

“Why would she be jealous over something with Derek?” Stiles scoffs, his eyebrows furrowed.

Scott shoots him a pointed look. Stiles is an absolute genius when it comes to certain topics, but girls and social cues are not one of them. His jaw drops slightly when he realizes what Scott’s implying. He rapidly shakes his head, flailing his arms in the air. “No– no, uh-uh. There’s no way. Absolutely not.”

“It’s not like you can stop it,” Scott chuckles. “If she likes him, she likes him.”

“Oh God,” Stiles groans disgustedly. “Out of all people? Sourwolf? Really?”

Scott shrugs with an amused smile as Y/N turns to start walking back, “The heart wants what the heart wants.”

“Okay, but does it have to want him?” Stiles continues to complain. “And if she’s jealous that means there was someone else there last night. Who? Because last I checked, Derek is a very acquired taste.”

“How would I know?” Scott replies. “Now shut up before she realizes we’re talking about her.”

The three of them made a pact awhile back that they wouldn’t eavesdrop on each other’s private conversations unless they were in danger. So they knew it would be safe to have said discussion despite Y/N’s enhanced hearing.

“You guys ready?” She asks.

Both nod vigorously, trying to hide their gossip, but their desperation to seem normal gives them away. Y/N simply rolls her eyes and says nothing. She once again links their arms together as they head towards their English class. No one needs werewolf senses to see how tense and angry Y/N got at the sight of Ms. Blake. The fury behind her eyes is one everyone in the pack has had to face at one point or another. Scott vividly remembers those eyes when Issac stole the last piece of her banana bread from when they went to the bakery they all love, and she threw him clear across his house.

Y/N separates herself from the boys, taking her spot next to Alison and Lydia while the boys sit down behind them. It’s a miracle how they all ended up in the same class. Y/N opens up her notebook, choosing to doodle rather than pay attention to whatever Ms. Blake is writing on the whit board in front of them. Alison looks at Y/N’s drawing with curiosity and smiles, “That’s really good,” she compliments.

It’s her beginning sketch to one of her favorite book characters, Sirius Black from Harry Potter. Y/N tries to muster a genuine grin, “Thanks,” she replies.

Alison isn’t clueless though. She can feel the difference in Y/N’s attitude from how she acts on a regular basis. She squints her eyes trying to silently figure it out before turning back to Scott who already knows what she’s wondering. What all of them were wondering. Who got Y/N so riled up? They know she’s jealous of something that happened with Derek, but who could she be jealous of?

“Alright, good morning everyone!” Jennifer greets with a smile that makes Y/N’s blood boil. She brings a hand up to play with her helix piercing to prevent her claws which will no doubt make an appearance by the end of this class. “Today, we're going to delve deeper into Shakespeare's Othello. I want you to focus on the themes of jealousy and manipulation that are littered throughout the text.”

Y/N’s eyes narrow on her teacher. The word “jealousy” feeling like a direct hit on their current situation. She cracks her neck before flipping to the page in their text book. She slouches in her chair, leg bouncing up and down. She quickly begins to run out of patience hearing the teachers heels click every time she takes a step.

“Y/N,” Jennifer calls out. “Why don’t you go ahead and start us off by reading the first paragraph?”

The grip Y/N has on her pencil tightens. There it is. Scott can not only smell it, but he can see it with his own eyes. The tension is more than palpable. Jennifer was the one at Derek’s last night. Y/N tilts her head, “Why can’t someone else do it?” She deflects coldly. “Lydia for example is quite the fan of our troubled poet.”

The challenge in her voice makes Jennifer hold back her own glare. She should’ve known Y/N would be the student to give her trouble from the beginning. The class shifts uncomfortably from the sudden chill in the air. “Y/N, it’s important for everyone to participate. Please, read the passage,” she requests with forced patience.

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that,” the (h/c) haired girl answers, folding her hands together as she leans on the desk. “I have crippling anxiety when it comes to reading in front of people. You wouldn’t want to do something to cause a breakdown would you?” She asks in the most taunting voice possible.

Lydia and Alison both stare at their friend with confusion. Stiles has to sink low in his chair to hide the inevitable laughter that’s about to come out of his mouth. While Scott just covers his face with his hands, waiting for World War Y/N to take place in his English class.

Jennifer quirks an eyebrow, “Did you not just do the school play of Beauty and the Beast last month? Where you played Belle? The lead role?”

Silence.

“That’s different, Ms. Blake,” Y/N corrects. “Not that I’d expect you to understand, but playing a character and who I am in real life is completely separate.”

“Well, that’s perfect then,” she nods. “Why don’t you go ahead and read it in character for us?”

A strong scent of copper fills Scott’s nose. He glances down and sees Y/N’s claws dug deep into her thigh. Stiles notices Scott’s wide eyes and glances where he’s looking. When he sees the wide open wound his face turns pale white before he shuffles in his chair.

“What a fantastic idea,” Y/N quips sarcastically before glancing down at the page below her. As she begins to read, the passive aggressiveness in her tone is evident. “O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on."

Her eyes lock with Jennifer's, and she can't help but add, under her breath but loud enough for her friends to pick up on, "How fitting"

Jennifer's expression hardens, but she maintains her composure. She leans on her desk while looking Y/N in the eye, “I would like a word with you after class Miss L/N,” she says coolly before continuing on with her lesson.

The glare on Y/N’s face never fades. She burns holes into the back of Jennifer’s head. Scott grew increasingly more worried that her eyes would flash, giving away her secret for all to see. All four of her friends exchange worried glances. Y/N’s never really been one to get in trouble on her own accord. She’s gotten detention, but ninety percent of the times it’s because Scott and Stiles roped her into it. The boys take it upon themselves to text Lydia and Alison, informing them of their theory of what is causing Y/N’s sudden aggression.

Lydia purses her lips together as she reads the texts. She leans back to whisper to Stiles, “This should be interesting…”

The rest of the class drags on, time ticking fairly slow. Y/N doesn’t say much, but the nasty looks she shoots cut more deeply than any words ever could. Halfway through the period, Stiles places his hand on her back to help keep her calm, which she wouldn’t admit, helped a lot. When the bell finally rings, the students begin to file out. Y/N stays behind, her anger barely contained. Scott, Stiles, Alison, and Lydia linger outside the door, trying to listen in on the upcoming confrontation.

Y/N rolls her eyes as she slings her bag over her shoulder. She approaches Jennifer’s desk with a sickly sweet smile. The teacher doesn’t buy it though. “Y/N, what is going on with you today?” She questions firmly, feigning concern for the younger girl.

Y/N shakes her head, producing the most innocent face she could. “Going on with me? Nothing at all, Miss Blake. I am doing just dandy. Why do you ask?"

Jennifer bites the inside of her cheek, narrowing her eyes, but she manages to keep her tone measured. "Your behavior today has been disruptive and disrespectful. You are a talented and well-read young woman. I expected more from you."

Y/N chuckles, leaning more of her weight on her left side, popping her hip to show just how much she truly cares about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do, given your high standards and all. It must be exhausting to keep up appearances,” she comments with a deceptive charm.

The older woman’s nostrils flare, knowing exactly what she’s trying to get at. Of course this is what her behavior is all about. Jennifer takes a deep breath, “Y/N, your comments today were out of line. This isn’t about keeping up appearances, it’s about maintaining respect in the classroom."

Y/N walks closer to her desk with a sly smile. She traces her finger up the wood, rubbing the dust in between her fingers. “Respect? Funny you should mention that. It seems respect is a bit... selective around here."

Jennifer's patience finally snaps, though she tries to mask it with a strained smile. “Y/N, your insinuations are inappropriate. Whatever issues you think exist, this isn't the place to air them."

Y/N barely even makes eye contact with the woman, flicking off the small dust bunny she formed with her fingers. “Of course,” she agrees mildly. “From now on, I’ll make sure to be more… discreet.”

Her teacher’s eyes flash with irritation, “You know what? Your behavior today has been unacceptable. Detention. After school. I expect to see you here as soon as the bell rings.”

Y/N opens her mouth to argue, but the look in Jennifer's eyes stops her. She storms out of the classroom, her friends quickly falling into step beside her. Stiles trips over his own footing as he tries to grab Y/N’s wrist, “Would you just– Jesus– Y/N. Slow down!” He exclaims, finally catching her. He grabs onto her, holding the girl in place.

Y/N raises her eyebrows, “What?” She bites out. “I have to get to Calc.”

“Care to explain what the hell is going on with you?” Lydia tries to coax the information out of her. She knows it’s never good for Y/N out of all people to keep things bottled.

“Nothing’s going on with me,” she denies. “I’m fine. Are we done here?” She scoffs, spinning on her heel to walk away.

Scott runs in front of her, “Y/N, we just want to help,” he insists softly.

“I don’t need your help!” She snaps. The wounded expression on his puppy dog face makes Y/N groan at her actions. She runs a hand over her face, “Look Scotty, I appreciate it. I appreciate all of you, really, I do. It means a lot that you care so much, but this isn’t something that I feel like talking about right now. I need space and time to plot out her murder and then maybe we can have a discussion later, okay?” She says nonchalantly, kissing Scott’s cheek before walking off to her calculus class.

They all stand there stunned for a moment. Stiles watches after her, pointing at the girl and turning back to his friends, “Did she– did she just say plot her murder?”

“Yup,” Alison nods, popping the “p.”

As the school day goes on, Scott and Stiles continuously try to monitor Y/N and her behavior. Something about her unhinged jealousy is putting everyone on edge. Luckily, the advanced classes they don’t have with her, Lydia does. So whenever they can’t be together, they assign someone else to watch over her.

When Lydia reports back, they’re all slightly shocked to hear that she was absolutely fine in all of her other classes. Which only affirms their theory that Ms. Blake was in Derek’s apartment last night, and that’s why Y/N acted the way that she did.

When the final bell of the day rings, Y/N growls under her breath, knowing she has to spend the next hour or so with Jennifer Blake in an enclosed space. She marches down the hallway, mumbling profanities under her breath before pushing the door to her classroom open. Stiles and Scott watch from afar, the latter trying to listen in for any painful screams. But knowing Y/N, if she truly were to murder someone, it wouldn’t be loud or obvious.

Y/N furrows her eyebrows when she sees Jennifer packing up her desk. When the woman hears her door open, she glances over in her students direction. “Miss L/N, I hope you had a good and reflective rest of your day,” she comments, clearly not interested in Y/N’s day whatsoever.

Y/N doesn’t bother responding. She simply stares at her straight faced with her arms crossed. Her patience is dwindling the longer they stand there. Jennifer picks up her handbag before sending Y/N the nastiest smile she could.

“Well, Mr. Harris should be here in a couple of minutes to oversee your detention, so you can wait in your seat until he arrives.”

Y/N’s eyes narrow, “And why exactly am I waiting for Mr. Harris? Weren’t you the one to give me a detention?”

Her teacher smirks, “Yes, yes I was,” she answers with a shrug.

“Then wouldn’t it be your responsibility to oversee it? You can’t just hand out detentions and not stick around for it,” Y/N scoffs.

“Normally, I wouldn’t be leaving like this. I would happily spend the next hour of my life lecturing you on proper classroom etiquette, but I have certain plans tonight that I’ve been looking forward to. So Mr. Harris has agreed to take you off my hands,” she explains.

Y/N can smell her smugness. Only if she demonstrated this side of herself in front of the class. Y/N clenches her hand tightly, feeling her claws emerging from her actual nails. Anger rushes through her, but she pushes it back with a curt nod. “How interesting. Do you mind me asking who these plans happen to be with?”

Jennifer cockily leans forward, whispering in Y/N’s ear, “You know exactly who they’re with.” Then she pulls away from the young girl, walking out of the classroom without a second glance.

The werewolf’s eyes flash a bright yellow as she watches Jennifer stalk off. She squeezes them shut, trying to avoid any kind of outburst. Her frustration grows by the second, her heart beating abnormally fast as she hears Jennifer getting in her car to no doubt drive to Derek’s loft. A red hot fire fills her soul as she makes a decision that will no doubt have consequences later. But she would rather serve a two hour detention with Harris than watch Derek be with that woman.

Y/N storms out of the classroom, running down the hallway. She ditches her detention, figuring she could come up with an emotional enough lie to relieve the punishment afterwards. Her backpack bounces up and down, smacking into her tailbone as she runs. Her feet pump as fast as they possibly can as she runs through the greenery of the woods. She doesn’t have to pay attention to where she is because her body already knows where it’s going. Almost as if she’s called to be there, her inner wolf begging to move faster.

When she finally slows down, she’s directly in front of the door to Derek’s loft. Her chest rises and falls with her shallow breaths as she simply stares at the door. She didn’t see or hear Jennifer’s car, so that means their’s still time. She licks her lips out of nervousness before hesitantly bringing her hand up to the door, knocking on it softly.

She waits anxiously, wiping her now sweaty hands on her jeans. Y/N’s not used to feeling like this ever. She doesn’t get nervous. Most of the time, she’s the most confident person anyone could meet. Hence why she was friends with Lydia before she even knew Stiles existed. When she goes over to Derek’s, she never usually feels like this. Like her heart might just beat out of her chest if she doesn’t see him. She fights off the small whimper threatening to escape her throat. She doesn’t need to be nervous and embarrassed when he answers the door.

Y/N rocks back and forth on her feet, growing more weary as time passes. Silence fills the air around her and she suddenly feels the urge to throw up when she hears footsteps growing closer. She silently prays he can’t smell how absolutely out of sorts she is. Her inner monologue to give herself a confidence boost doesn’t do much when she sees his shadow at the bottom crack of the door. When the door swings open, it reveals a very dressed up Derek Hale. His face turns into one of confusion when he sees her standing in front of him.

“Y/N,” he greets, completely shocked by her presence. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh– I– um,” she stumbles over her words which causes Derek to look at her with curiosity. She’s not the type to be at a loss for something to say. That’s one of the things he admires about her. She sucks in a deep breath, “I just needed to see you,” she answers.

Derek steps aside slightly, allowing her into his apartment. When she walks in she can’t help but feel safe. This loft has almost turned into her home away from home. She’s here more often than anyone else out of the pack, and Issac lives here. It isn’t until now that Derek can smell the mix of emotions radiating off of her. It’s a concoction of things and he can’t tell which is the primary source of her unannounced appearance.

“What’s this about?” He asks her with a lifted brow.

Y/N sighs, trying to blink back the intermittent flashing of her eyes. “I know someone was here last night,” she reveals. “I came by and heard her. Then I find out today that you two apparently have plans,” she continues getting progressively more irritated. “Which didn’t make sense to me because I thought you were smarter than that.”

Derek crosses his arms, his own anger rising at her tone. He’s used to her empty sarcasm and insults, but this time it’s fueled by actual emotion which sets him equally on edge. “It’s none of your business who I have plans with, Y/N,” he says shortly.

Y/N laughs humorlessly, “None of my business? It is absolutely my business if the person you have these plans with is a complete stranger!” She exclaims loudly. “We don’t know her Derek. She could be the person behind all these killings and kidnappings and we wouldn’t be any the wiser!”

“Your teacher?” He challenges. “Responsible for everything that’s going on?” He chuckles at the obscurity. “Right. I’m sure that’s it,” he shakes his head at the accusation. “Isn’t the whole point of making plans to get to know someone? So wouldn’t it be nice if I did go out with her?”

“She’s manipulating you,” Y/N insists. “And you’re obviously too blind to even see it.”

“Why do you care so much?” Derek asks, his voice elevating as well.

“Because–” She waves her hands around exasperatedly, trying to find the words. “You’re not exactly known for your taste in women!” She all but scolds. “Remember Kate? The lady that up and killed your entire family. Well, I remember her so forgive me for trying to keep your stupid werewolf ass alive!”

Derek goes to retaliate but that’s when he hears it. Her heart rate speeds up. She’s lying to him. That’s not why she really cares. He can clearly see her anger and smell the annoyance radiating off of her, along with a couple of other things. But there’s a sweet smell accompanying it. One that Derek finds rather endearing. Jealousy. Y/N L/N is jealous. He wouldn’t have picked up on it if she hadn’t just blatantly lied. Suddenly her bursting in and berating him makes sense. He smirks when he notices her clenched fists. It’s about time she’s felt the green-eyed monster that constantly visits him when he sees her with other guys. When she’s laughing boisterously about something Scott said, whenever she comes over to see him but ends up talking to Isaac for hours on end. Especially when he found out she kissed Stiles last year after he was kidnapped by Gerard. It truly has been a miracle that no one ever sensed his jealousy when it came to her.

Derek takes a step forward, closing the distance between them. “Why did you really come here, Y/N?” He asks lowly, trying to get her to admit her feelings. “Tell me what you’re really trying to say…”

Y/N feels her face flush as he gets closer. She doesn’t want him to know the real reason why she raced across town to be here. The walls begin to close in around her, so she lashes out in a last ditch effort to protect herself.

“I’m trying to look out for you! You’re stubborn, Derek,” she chastises. “You don’t listen to anything anyone tells you. You like to pretend you’re always ready and prepared for anything, but you’re not! You are just as emotional and vulnerable as everyone else despite being hurt as many times as you have! You’re reckless when it comes to women, so I’m simply trying to make sure you don’t hurt yourself or the pack by making a stupid mistake.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t back down. In fact, he gets closer to her in attempts to pressure it out of her. “You’re avoiding my question, Y/N,” he says darkly. “What’s really going on?”

Feeling cornered, Y/N tries to take in a couple of deep breaths but it fails miserably. She can’t tell him. Not now. Not when he’s interested in another women who’s already on her way here. He even got dressed up for her. She’s never seen Derek in a white button up polo and slacks. It makes her frown thinking that it’s not for her. She scoffs softly before shaking her head, “Forget it,” she mumbles. The h/c haired girl pushes past him, shoulder checking him on her way to the door. “I shouldn’t have come here. Have fun on your date or whatever you wanna call it.”

She slams the door behind her before stomping down the flight of stairs that leads up to his building. When she walks outside, the sky opens up, almost mimicking her inner turmoil with its own storm. Rain pours down on her, soaking her clothing completely as she gets ready to run home, or in all truth, to Stiles house. All she knows is that she can’t be here anymore.

“Y/N, wait!” Derek calls out.

She doesn’t bother turning around, heading the exact way she came. She should’ve figured that he would’ve caught up to her with ease. He’s never had a problem showing her who’s in charge. He grabs her wrist gently but firmly, not allowing her to leave.

“Stop running away,” he commands. “Just tell me the truth.”

Y/N’s eyes once again begin flashing yellow, differing completely from her regular piercing e/c gaze. “Let go of me, Derek,” she demands with a bit of a growl in her voice.

“Not until you stop being so damn hardheaded!” He yells, trying to make his voice heard over the pounding rain. “Tell me!”

“Why do you even care?!” Y/N screams back. “Why does it matter when you’re already here waiting for another woman?”

Derek’s eyes soften slightly, and he pulls Y/N closer to him by her wrist. Her breath hitches in her throat as her hand practically rests on his muscular chest. His lips are so impossibly close that any coherent thought she had before this moment have been completely erased from her long and short term memory.

“Because I need to hear you say it,” his voice got impossibly low, sending a chill through her body that has nothing to do with the cold water hitting her back.

Y/N’s lips part slightly as his thumb comes up to brush the side of her cheek. Her body is drawn to him. The wolf inside of her is trying to claw its way out and into his arms, but she manages to steady herself. “Fine,” she breathes out, not being able to force herself to look away. “I’m jealous, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? That it made me want to commit first-degree murder last night when I heard her voice in your apartment, knowing that it would’ve been me in there if I had shown up just a tad bit earlier? So yes, Derek, I am jealous. You win.”

Derek’s eyes darken at the breathiness of her voice. He places the hand that was holding her wrist on her waist to keep her pressed securely against his front. Both of their hearts beat in unison, “Why didn’t you just say that when I asked the first time?”

Y/N’s defense starts to crumble beneath her, “Because I didn’t want you to think I was weak for succumbing to something stupid like that,” she admits.

Derek laughs, showing off his pearly white teeth, “I would’ve never thought you were weak.” He reassures when he notices the small frown etched on her face. “You’ve never been weak. A bit obstinate? Sure. But not weak.”

Y/N can feel the sincerity in his voice. She doesn’t protest his strong hold on her hip, but instead keeps her own hands occupied on his now soaked through white shirt. It’s not a bad view from where she’s standing. “I don’t think I can do this,” she whispers.

Derek’s eyebrows furrow, a pang of concern filling his heart. “Do what?”

“Keep pretending that I don’t care about you,” she says softly, her chest heaving up and down from how intense the moment they are sharing is.

Derek’s eyes flash their bright alpha red as a primal instinct clouds his brain. He leans close to her face, his stubble rubbing her cheek in just the right way. “Then don’t,” he says huskily.

Before she can respond, he leans in and kisses her, the rain pouring down around them. The kiss is intense, filled with all the emotions they’ve both been keeping at bay. It’s a collision of desire and frustration, their lips moving against each other with a desperate want. A primal need inside both of them. Y/N wraps her hands around his neck, tugging at the short strands of his black hair. Derek wastes no time placing both of his hands on her waist, squeezing the soft flesh. She giggles slightly from the sensation, making him smile. When they finally pull apart, they’re both breathless.

Y/N steps back, her heart racing, but Derek keeps his arm around her, protectively. “How come you ran away?” He asks quietly.

Y/N huffs, running a hand through her wet hair. She sighs loudly before admitting the truth, “I was scared.”

“Of what?” He questions, not believing the woman in front of him would be scared of anything.

“Of this,” she states obviously, gesturing in between them. “Of how much I feel for you. I’m not really big on emotions like this. I don’t know how to handle it. So I was scared of having to open up my heart when I wasn’t sure if you’d actually take care of it.”

The vulnerability in her answer snaps something in Derek’s mind. She has the same issues as he does. He hasn’t been able to truly give himself to anyone since Paige. He felt so strongly for her and then she was gone in an instant. And when he tried again with someone he didn’t even fully trust, he got burned again. Emotions besides anger have never been his forte. So when he hears Y/N admitting the same thing, it makes him realize that this is something they both can improve on.

He grins, kissing her forehead softly, “You don’t have to be scared. We can figure it all out together, okay? Both of us.”

At that moment, a car pulls up, and Derek pulls Y/N even tighter into his chest. The bright headlights blind them and they both try to shield their eyes in order to identify the owner of the vehicle. Y/N’s body tenses as Jennifer steps out, the woman’s expression shifting from surprise to anger as she sees them.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” she comments coldly. Her eyes zero in on Y/N who has a rather tight grip on Derek’s shirt, “Miss L/N, shouldn’t you be at school serving the detention you earned today for your behavior in my class?”

“I had better things to do,” Y/N bites back. “As you can see,” she says, pointing at Derek’s chiseled form.

A shit-eating grin forms on Derek’s lips at her words. They both swear they see Jennifer’s eye twitch from the insinuation Y/N just made. He doesn’t bother trying to cover up what just happened and keeps his hands firmly on Y/N’s hips.

“Yes, I can see that,” Jennifer narrows her eyes at their proximity.

Derek can feel the situation getting ready to escalate so he keeps Y/N safeguarded within his hold. He nods over to Jennifer’s car, “I think it would be best if you left,” he states unforgivingly making Y/N smile.

Jennifer sends them both a pointed look, “I think so too,” she agrees before spinning on her heel and walking back towards her car. “We’ll see just how well this works out for the two of you. Let’s hope you don’t regret it.”

She closes the drivers side door before speeding off out of the parking lot. Both Derek and Y/N are left standing in the rain, now knowing that things have just become a lot more complicated than they were before. But even in the midst of her subtle threat and imminent danger, the two of them don’t seem worried in the slightest.

Because they’ll handle that together too.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

I really liked your sister!reader series with Natasha 🙂👍

If you are taking requests , csn I request f!reader(batman) X Natasha , where Natasha is the one pinning after reader who is distant (Bruce Wayne vibes, not as extroverted as Tony). Natasha and reader are exes, she comes to reader for help maybe with Yelena after the Red room was destroyed maybe ? Feel free to ignore /delete if it's bad .

North Star

Warnings: mention of death (reader's parents), torture, kidnapping, angst with a happy ending, post Black Widow movie but before Infinity War, injuries, blood, reader is enhanced

Word Count: 6.6K

Note: I would like to Apologize for how long this took me to fulfil. This one shot has been almost done for MONTHS. Ugh. Hope you enjoy!

You were surprised she still had it. You gave it to her to use whenever she needed help. It was insurance to know that she would always be safe. However, it had been a long time since it had gone off. You last heard from her a year ago when she disappeared. You were sitting at your desk when you felt your drawer buzz. A part of you thought about ignoring it. To show her the same level of care she gave you, but you made a promise and weren’t one to break them. Whenever she would call, you would answer. Opening up the drawer, you pulled out a pager. It may have said a lot that she kept it. The same could be said about you. You looked at the location. She was close by. There was something about her that always seemed to call you in, a spell that called you to her web.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Sitting in the dark isn’t how to greet a friend.” You heard the smirk in her voice.

“I wouldn’t call us that,” you turned on the lamp next to the couch. The small apartment illuminated, and you stared at your ex. Natasha Romanoff. Avenger. Black Widow. She was no longer a redhead but a blonde cut into a bob. You crossed one leg over the other and held out the pager. “I’m surprised you still have it,”

“I never got rid of it,” you noticed the necklace around her neck and the charm you gave her- a star. It was Polaris, the North Star. You gave it to her on your first anniversary.

“What do you want?” you asked, ignoring her statement. She pointed to the empty spot next to you. You nodded, and she sat down, playing with the necklace.

“I need your help.” That wasn’t a surprise.

“Why don’t you ask the Avengers for help?” You asked. She glared at you. You knew why she couldn’t ask for their help; it was all over the news. The Avengers were disbanded after a very public fight in Germany. But you wanted her to say it.

“I can’t go to them. You are the only one I can turn to for help.” You leaned back on the couch. She placed her hand on your thigh. You grabbed her by her wrist and took her hand off of you. You hated the way your body warmed up a simple touch. She lost the privilege to touch you like that, to see you at your most vulnerable.

“Tell me what you need.”

“My sister hasn’t checked in for 12 hours, and I don’t have the right resources to find her myself.” She explained. You frowned. Once upon a time, she told you about a sister she had in Ohio.

“Is this about what I saw on the news?” You asked. You saw a report that Natasha evaded capture from Ross. The field she escaped from looked like a battlefield. She smirked.

“Are you keeping tabs on me?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “It’s part of my job to keep tabs on the news.” You sighed. “Where was the last time you heard from her?”

“She checked in at her safe house in Belize.” Good. You had a home there. Your parents would visit the country several times yearly to conduct business. It made sense for them to buy a house. You hadn’t been there since their death.

“We should head over there now,” you said, standing up. “The longer we wait, the harder it will be to find her.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” You didn’t respond, so you walked out of the apartment. You knew she was following her without looking behind her.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were leaning against the table, looking over the information on the Widow Yelena was tracking. The jet was on autopilot, so worrying about that was unnecessary. The quietness was interrupted by her footsteps walking over to you. She stood shoulder to shoulder next to you, and her arm barely touched you. “This brings me back to when I’d find you hunched over your work table.” She placed her hand on your lower back. You shrugged it off. You walked over to the cockpit and sat down in the pilot seat. Once the jet was out of autopilot, you took control. You need to get your mind on something instead of the Russian.

2011

You were invited to a Stark party. Parties weren’t your scene, but as a part of New York Cities elites, there would be talk if you were absent. The one thing you hated more than parties was gossip. So you stood at the bar sipping on a jack and coke. “Starfire!” You suppressed a sigh at the nickname from the billionaire. Tony Stark walked over to you with a redhead by his side.

“Stark,” you said, offering your hand to the man, but you were pulled into a hug. You patted his back. “How much have you had to drink?” You asked.

“Not nearly enough,” he ended the hug. “This one is keeping me in line.” He waved down the bartender. “This is my new assistant, Natalie Rushman.” Tony’s attention was on the bartender. She was stunning. Her red hair was curled at the end, and she wore a black cocktail dress.

“Y/n Ortega,” you introduced yourself. “Owner of Titanis Production.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she said. It’s my job to know all of Mr. Stark’s associates.” She held out her hand for you to shake, but you took it and kissed it instead.

“Well, I hope Stark doesn’t tell you all my secrets.” She smiled.

“Don’t worry, kid,” Tony said, sipping his drink. “Your secrets are safe with me. Now excuse me, I have to make my rounds.”

“I’ll see you around Stark,” the billionaire walked away, but Natalia lingered next to you.

“I hope to see you again,” she smirked. You took a sip of your drink.

“I have a feeling you’ll know where to find me,” you had a strange feeling about her. She smiled and followed Tony. You watched for a beat before placing your glasses on. “AUROA, who is that?” You asked your AI system.

It took a moment for AUROA to find anything. Natalie Rushman modeled in 2004 and worked in Japan, Italy, and the United States in the early 2000s . She received her BA and MA in history from the University of Southern Carolina. The cherry on top was that she interned at Hammer Industries while studying at Harvard University. Everything felt perfect.

“AUROA, keep digging,” you sipped on your drink.

“I would have to hack into SHIELD,” the AI said. SHIELD? Why was the American governmental counter-terrorism agency interested in Stark? Besides the whole Iron Man thing.

“Do it,” you gave the order. As you waited and sipped on your drink, your eyes followed Tony and Natalia around the party.

“It appears that Natalia Rushman goes by many names,” you looked away from the duo as AUROA continued to explain. “Currently, she is going by Natasha Romanoff, and she is a Black Widow.”

“How dangerous?” You asked. It took a moment for the AI to respond.

“According to SHIELD, she is the most decorated assassin of the modern era. “You couldn’t help but look towards Natalia, and the SHIELD agent was already looking at you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Even at your status, you found parties boring. Sighing, you walked out to the balcony and felt a pressure release from your chest. Being underneath the stars always seemed to calm you down. You felt less trapped under the vast and never-ending sky. “Tired of the party already?” Natalie -no- Natasha said, walking over to you.

“Shouldn’t you be babysitting Tony?” You countered. The woman chuckled.

“It’s Pepper’s turn,” you hummed. That woman had more patience than God himself. “So, Y/n,” you liked the way your name fell from her lips, but you kept your face expressionless. “What secrets is Tony keeping for you?” She asked.

“I bet you know all of them,” you said, stepping forward and closing the space between you two. “Natasha,” you whispered her name as if it were a secret for you, her, and the stars above. She had an incredible poker face, but you weren’t surprised.

“I’m impressed, but for the Polaris, I expect no less.” You went by Polaris when you weren’t the CEO of your family’s company and tried to keep the city you lived in safe. You took a sip of your drink.

“What do you want with Stark?” You asked.

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that,” she smiled. “I do hope you enjoy your night,” she said. She walked back into the party, but you grabbed her arm and pulled her back to you. Her chest was flushed to yours, and you could feel her heart beating.

“Tony Stark is family,” you told her. “So if he’s in trouble. I’d like to know.”

“Why don’t you find out yourself? Use that big brain of yours.” You smiled, releasing your hold on her arm, but she stayed close. Her green eyes stared up at you.

“I’d like to hear it from you. Over a drink, maybe, not at this party,” A soft smile spread across Natasha’s face.

“Yeah?” She questioned. You gave her a short nod. “Let’s get out of here then.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Natasha picked the lock of Yelena’s safe room. She opened the door and stepped to the side so you could walk in. It was a simple studio apartment with a basic kitchen and a bed. The place was well kept, except for the bottle of vodka left on the counter. You walked over to the small closet and opened it. Her clothes were hung up, and a duffle bag rested on the top shelf. Inside the bag were some extra magazines and a file she was tracking down on the Widow. “Look at this,” Natasha said, walking over to you. “She thought she was being followed.” You took the pad of paper from her. Yelena was keeping track of the Widow’s movement.

“Why didn’t she tell you or Melina about this?” You asked. She did not describe who she thought was following her; she only thought they were men.

“She probably thought she could handle it. She’s stubborn.” You hummed, nodding your head.

“Sounds like another Black Widow, I know,” you said. You handed her the notepad back and walked over to the window. You moved the blinds and saw a small fruit shop. “There’s nothing here that will help us,” you told the Russian. “But I have an idea.”

Putting on a smile, you walked through the fruit containers toward a woman behind a counter. “Hola,” the woman greeted you. “How can I help you?” Her English was laced with a heavy accent, but it was oddly confronting. It reminded you of babysitters and cleaners that your parents hired.

“Hello, ma’am, I was wondering if you could help us,” she looked hesitant between you and Natasha. “My wife and I were supposed to meet her sister, but she hasn’t shown up. Have you seen her? She’s blonde, shorter than me, and has a Russian accent.”

“Are you the police?” She asked. You shook your head.

“No, ma’am. My name is Y/n Ortega. " The relief that washed across the woman’s face wasn’t lost on you when she recognized your last name. There was a part of you that hated using your last name and the influence you knew you had, but desperate times call for desperate measures. The shopkeeper grabbed your hand and kissed your family ring. You glanced at Natasha, who just shrugged.

“Oh, Sra. Ortega, we were so sad to hear of your parent’s passing. We prayed for your family every night.” She dropped your hand.

“Thank you,” you told her. “I appreciate it.” And it was the truth, but the mention of your parent’s death always struck a deep emotion within you. They were killed right in front of you. You felt Natasha loop her arm through yours, and you fought your body’s natural reaction to lean against her.

“So, have you seen my sister?” she asked, her voice having a slight Russian accent. She was a great actress. The woman looked around to ensure no one else was around.

“The last time I saw your sister was two days ago. I told her that some men were following her and asking about her.” She whispered, afraid someone would hear her.

“These men? Do you know who they are?” She looked terrified. “Señora, I can protect you, but if you know anything to help us, please tell us.”

“We call them Ascendencia, the real people that run this town,” it was the group that the Widow Yelena was trying to help work for.

“Thank you. You have been a big help,” Natasha said. You pulled out your wallet and handed her money, but she closed your hand around the cash.

“Keep it,” she said. “Your presence is priceless. The estrella de belén (Bethlehem star) is back.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Even though your company thought you were on vacation, you had some work to do. You planned to hit the Ascendancy at night. The night was when your powers were best utilized. While Natasha was showering, you were working on your laptop. Well, you were trying, but what the shop owner said was racing through your mind. The Star of Bethlehem was a phenomenon that scholars could never prove existed. Perhaps it was a supernova, a comet, a solar flare, or even an alignment of planets. Or it may never have existed after all. The truth was science may never know. From a religious standpoint, the star in the Bible and Christian tradition was said to have led the Magi to the birthplace of Jesus Christ. By this woman calling you the Star of Bethlehem, she saw you as the next savior. Why were you the savior? “You know,” Natasha said. You looked up from your laptop and stared at the Russian, only wearing a bathrobe. “I liked it when you called me your wife.” She walked over to the bar and poured a glass of wine. She took a sip and walked over to you. Your eyes never left her as she took the laptop from your hand.

“What are you doing?” You asked and grabbed her wrist.

“Getting you to relax,” she put the glass of wine in your hand. “You’ve been on edge since we left that woman’s fruit stand.” She chose to sit right next to you. Her legs were touching yours. “Are you okay? I know your parents are a touchy subject.” You rolled your eyes and stood up, pushing the glass of wine in her hands.

“Like you care about me,” you said. You picked up your laptop and headed to your room.

“I never stopped caring about you,” you stopped. “Or loving you, for that matter.” Slowly, you turned around to face her.

“Then why did you disappear?” You asked her. “Why did you throw a five-year relationship down the drain?”

“For you. To keep you safe,” you stared at her, disbelief evident on your face. I signed the Accords,” you knew this. You followed it very closely. “Tony signed the Accords. If Ross found out who you are, he would have thrown you in the RAFT.” She ran to protect you. You shook your head.

“I would have signed the Accords,” you honestly said.

“No, the Polaris is too much of who you are. I wasn’t going to let them take that away from you.”

“Stop,” you hissed. “Stop making decisions that affect me without talking to me.” You let out a shaky breath. “I would have left it all behind for you because I loved you,” her face fell as you said ‘loved.’ “But you made a decision that wasn’t yours to make.” She stood up, leaving the wine glass on the table, and closed the distance between you and her.

“What can I do to fix this?” You looked at Natasha and stared into her green eyes. So many nights, you’ve gotten lost in the green of her eyes. There was a part of you, deep within you, that wanted to embrace her, look past everything, and open your heart back up to her. But the rational part of your mind overpowered the hopeless romantic. You remembered the countless nights you stayed up late over a bottle of whiskey, the times you were the Polaris and thought fuck it and let whoever you were fighting to kill you. Anything would have been better than the pain of her leaving.

“I don’t know, Natasha,” you sighed. “Let’s focus on saving Yelena.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“How many do you see?” You asked her. You were on the rooftop a few buildings from the prison where Yelena was being held. It was in an abandoned town, so it was a perfect spot for a group that wanted to remain under the radar. Unfortunately, many villages were abandoned due to drug cartels or natural disasters. Natasha put down the binoculars.

“Multiple guards with assault rifles. There are snipers on the towers,” she sighed. “Whatever is going on in there, they want to protect it. Any ideas on how to get it?” You smiled and rubbed your hands together.

“A few exactly,” you felt her gaze on you. “Stop looking at me like that.” The Black Widow shrugged.

“You look good in your suit,” you could say the same thing about her. She added new additions since the last time you saw her. A vest was on the top, and the Black Widow symbol on her belt was gone. Your suit was the same. Your face was covered to hide your identity, and your suit was black but with white specs that mapped out constellations. One constellation, Orion, was across your chest. The other was Scorpius down your back. The final constellation was Scutum, which was up and down your arms. They all meant protection.

Glancing up at the sky, it was clear. Not a single cloud in the sky. It was the perfect night to use your powers. “Oh great, Cassiopeia, lend me your powers,” you placed your hands on the roof’s ledge. “Show me the way to what I seek.” Your hands glowed orange, and a trail raced toward the prison. Each guard it passed, it outlined them. The light provided a path to follow, stopping at a cell. The orange glow highlighted a girl.

“That must be Yelena,” Natasha pointed to where the glow stopped. “We have to get to her,” you grabbed her arm to prevent her from getting up. “What are you doing?”

“Just trust me,” you said to her. “You may be good, but there is no way you can sneak past all those guards and get Yelena out.” Besides, Cassiopeia showed you Yelena’s location, not her condition. Keeping your hand on her arm, you let out a shaky breath. “Great Gamma Draconis,” you said. “Lend me your power and bestow us your gift.” She looked at you, confused because nothing happened, unlike when she saw your powers up close. “We are invisible to everyone else, and if we stop touching each other, then we become invisible to each other.” You went to remove your hand to show her, but she grabbed it and interlocked her fingers with yours.

You couldn’t help but look at your connected hands. It felt so good to feel her skin against yours. Her hands were smooth besides the callous on her fingers from shooting. After all this time, her touch could still ground you, and you weren’t lost in the astral plane. “Come on,” you said. “Let’s go save your sister.” The sooner this mission was over, than you would never have to see her again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Your powers made it easy to sneak towards the prison and break inside. The only problem was that you struggled to focus on how close Natasha was to you. Suddenly, she stopped and pushed you against the wall. She put her finger to her lips and pointed. You followed to where she was pointing and saw two men. They were speaking in Spanish, and you quickly translated the conversation in your head.

‘That blonde bitch is getting on my nerves,’ one said.

‘The boss wants her alive,’ the other added. ‘We just have to be patient, and then we will be rewarded.’ They walked away. It was a good thing they needed her alive, but the question was why. You leaned closer to Natasha’s ear.

“We need to hurry,” you whispered, ignoring the way her body shivered and she leaned towards you. You pushed her away slightly and continued to follow the path. A plan was swirling in your head: get Yelena out, care for her wounds, and stop this group.

To your surprise, there was no guard at the cell. Natasha picked the lock and dragged you inside, but the room was empty, and the door slammed shut behind you. Natasha dropped your hand, and she was visible. “Where is she?” She asked. You ran to the door and placed your hand on the handle. It was luck.

“Aquila,” you said. “Eagle that carried Zeus’ thunderbolt free us.” Nothing happened. Instead, vents opened on the ceiling, and gas began to fill the room. Natasha fell to her knees, coughing as the mysterious gas filled her lungs. You ran over to the Black Widow. Your suit glowed as the stars protected you from the gas.

“Nat,” she slumped against you as her eyes closed. Her breathing was labored, but she had a pulse. The door opened behind you. You turned to face whoever entered, but a bat to the side of your head brought you down. Your arms wrapped around Natasha, one last desperate act to protect her.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You woke up to the metallic taste in your mouth. It took a minute for your eyes to adjust to the low light, but you saw Natasha chained up next to her sister. They were awake, but it was hard to assess her injuries. You moved your arms and saw that you were chained to the ground in a kneeling position. The rattle of your chains got Natasha’s attention. “You’re up,” her voice sounded distorted. It was like someone stuffed your ears with cotton. You shook your head to rid the feeling, but it made it worse. “Hey,” you looked at the Russian. “Focus on my voice. You have a gash on the side of your head.” That explained the blood. “Can you heal it?” That was simple. You could heal it. You let out a shaky breath.

“Great Rod of Asclepius, I call upon your power to heal me and those around me.” But the typical warmth didn’t come. Instead, your body burned. You hissed in pain as a blue glow burned bright in the room. Above the door were symbols on the wall that you weren’t sure what they were. They were everywhere.

“They were here when they put me in here,” Yelena said. Why? They knew you were coming if they graved these symbols to suppress your abilities. “I’m guessing you are the one my sister wouldn’t shut up about.”

“Yelena!” Natasha hissed.

“I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you finally, Yelena. I’ve heard a lot about you.” The shock on her face was evident. On any other day, you would question the look of shock on her face, but you needed to figure out how to get out of here. You tugged at the metal chains, but they wouldn’t move. There was a way out, but it was dangerous for you and those around you.

The doors opened, and a man and woman entered. Two guards were stationed by the door. The woman walked over to Natasha and Yelena, grabbing them by their chins. “Don’t touch them,” you warned.

“I don’t think you are in any position to make demands, Polaris,” the man said and approached you. His fingers graze the cut on your head. Your blood covered his fingers. “Why aren’t you healing? Are you having some trouble?” He smirked. You wanted to wipe it off his stupid face.

“What do you want?” Natasha asked. The man ignored Natasha and continued to stare at you. You tried to hold his stare, but it sent a shiver down your spine. Finally, you looked away.

“You look like your mother,” he knelt before you. “It’s a pity she was taking from you so young. She was special.”

“What do you want?” you finally asked. It seemed impossible, but his smile got bigger and wider.

“We did all of this for you,” he stood up. “Aren’t you enjoying it?” His counterpart took his spot in front of you. Her fingernails dug into your cheek.

“Smile, darling,” she said. Frowning causes wrinkles, and we want your face to be nice and beautiful. " She kissed your cheek. We won’t hurt you unless you start being difficult.” You saw Natasha’s eyes turn stormy. Your ex was always possessive. It looked like some things stayed the same.

“How about we cut the shit and steamroll this process?” Natasha deadpanned. “You give us your villain speech, we escape and stop you, and I can stop by the beach and enjoy a margarita before my flight home,” you almost laughed at the stunned look on the couple’s face. Natasha always had a flare for the dramatics, but the man snapped his fingers. It happened instantly, the pain that radiated through your body was unlike anything you’ve experienced. You groaned but tried to keep your noises at bay. You refused to give them that satisfaction, but you saw the concern and worry in Natasha’s eyes. Her face remained stoic. The man snapped again, and the pain stopped.

“She’s perfect!” the woman cheered and kissed the man’s cheek.

“I told you she would be, sweetheart,” he grabbed her chin and brought their lips together.

“Gross,” you heard Yelena mumble. After a few deep breaths, your body wasn’t on fire anymore.

“I don’t understand,” you said. “Who are you people?”

“It’s no surprise your parents never told you about us. My name is Victor Reyes,” he grabbed the woman’s hand. “And this is my beautiful wife, Anna.” Even though pain fogged up your mind, you knew it was terrible that they gave you their full name. It was a sign that you weren’t getting out of here alive. “Your parents ruined us, and now you will help us rebuild.”

“What did they do?” You questioned. “They were business people, not fighters,” your parents wouldn’t fight a terrorist group unless they were disrupting the business. Anna laughed.

“Poor baby, mommy and daddy lied to you,” she said. “Do you think it was a coincidence you got those powers the night your parents were killed? You weren’t the first vigilante in the family.” You frowned. They couldn’t have had these powers. Every night, you were left alone with O'Conner, your family butler; they covered that they were stuck at work.

“What do you want from her?” Yelena asked. Victor turned to face the blonde.

“Her life force,” he said. It was said so causally that you almost missed it. “Her gift can power weapons, buildings, and people. Our leader tried to jump-start this project, but her parents killed him.”

Killed someone? Your parents weren’t killers. They were involved in the family business, and you or they had no time to dirty their hands. Natasha saw the sea of emotions pass through you. “So that is your plan?” Natasha questioned. “Use her powers to take over the world,” she rolled her eyes. “We’ve seen this before. It’s not an original idea.” Victor knelt in front of Natasha.

“You don’t understand the magnitude of your lover’s powers, do you?” Your stomach turned. Victor twisted her blonde locks around his fingers. “The stars are so important to our world.”

“Stars are the primary source of elements that make up the universe: carbon, nitrogen, oxygen,” Anna moved next to you and placed her hand on your head. Her nails dug into your scalp. “Astronomers believe stars to be the cosmic engines that create galaxies.”

“Exactly, my love,” Victor smiled over his shoulder. “You see now, Mrs. Romanoff, we won’t just take over this world but every galaxy that the stars touch,” he stood up. “We have people stationed all over, ready for our word. We will rebuild this galaxy into something beautiful. " Their voices became white noise as they continued to taunt Yelena and Natasha. Finally, they left you three alone.

“Well, this is great,” Yelena mumbled, slumping back against the wall. If they were to harness your powers, they could bring down galaxies, create new ones, and be the ultimate ruler. This was bad.

“Hey,” you looked at Natasha. “What’s going through your head?”

“I need to get you two out of here,” you said. There was a small window, and you could see the stars and feel the power that they gave you.

“How do you plan to do that?” The younger Black Widow questioned. “Those symbols stop your powers.” You nodded, licking your lips. You could do this.

“Oh, great, Asclepius and Aquila, I call on you to allow me to use your gifts, release them from their bonds, and heal their wounds.” You bite down on your lip to stop the whimper of pain that threatened to escape. Black dots covered your vision, and everything was burning. You swore your blood was on fire.

The only thing keeping you upright were the chains attached to the ground—until your forehead came in contact with the fabric of Natasha’s suit. You heard the sisters talking, but their words were muffled like you were in an episode of Charlie Brown when the adults were talking. “Hey,” the older Black Widow turned her attention to you. “You have to leave me.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Maybe, but you were a liability. You were in no shape to transverse this compound to leave. You pulled away from Natasha and spit blood onto the floor. “They want you. We need to get you out of here.”

“You need to get out of here and warn the team. If” a violent cough ripped through your body and you tasted more blood in your mouth. Shit. That was not good. You ignored the worried look the sisters shared. “If they are as big as they are claiming, you need the Avengers to stop them. I,” your vision began to blur. “I can stop them here.” What if Victor and Anna weren’t the real leaders behind this? Even if they couldn’t harness your ability, they were still a threat to the balance of this world.

“Sweetheart,” Natasha whispered. You managed a smile at the pet name and focused on her eyes. You loved them so much. You noticed her face would be emotionless with the years together, but her eyes gave so much away.

“Moya zvezda (my star),” Natasha tried to teach you Russian, but you only learned a few words. Star was one of them. “My North Star, it’s going to be okay.” You weren’t sure if you could keep that promise. “You’ll get the team back together and save the world like always.”

“Please, there has to be another way,” you glanced at Yelena. A silent plea to get her sister out of here. She nodded.

“I never stopped loving you, Natasha,” you admitted. “No matter how much you leaving hurt.”

“Sestra,” Yelena nudged Natasha’s shoulder. “We should go. We do not know when they will be back.” You smiled and nodded your head. Natasha sighed and hugged you tight. Her lips grazed your forehead, and you leaned into her touch.

“If this is the last time we see each other. I’m going to be fucking pissed.” You couldn’t help but chuckle and watch Yelena drag Natasha to the door. She looked over her shoulder one last time and left.

You hung your head and let out a shaky breath. Each breath sent a sharp pain through your sides. Until today, you never understood why you were gifted these powers, but you knew you wanted to protect people. They were gifted to you on the night your parents were killed. When O'Conner took you home from the hospital, you fell into a deep sleep and had a very high fever. He had to bring you right back to the hospital.

Everyone chalked it up to stress. You witnessed a traumatic event, and that was how your body reacted to it. Only you, O'Conner and the Starks knew the truth of what you became. You could call on the power of the stars and harness their powers. It took a lot of trial and error to figure out which star provided what power.

But you made a promise to those around you that you would never call on the power of the sun. The power was too unpredictable, and the damage to your body was unclear. It was a promise you had to break. You spit out the blood that was pooling in your mouth. “Please,” you whispered. “Please. After everything I’ve given and suffered with this gift, help me.” Another cough ripped through you as the symbols glowed a light blue.

“Helios,” you kept your voice strong and steady. “I call upon you to bestow me with your powers.” Your body began to burn as the symbols tried to stop your powers. “Helios, please use me to embody your powers and stop those threatening peace.”

The symbols grew brighter, but the burning stopped, and soon, you were filled with warmth. It was like a warm embrace from an old friend or a hug from your mother. Your wounds healed, and the chains that imprisoned you fell to the ground. With newfound strength, you stood up, walked to the middle of the room, and knelt down. The palm of your hand was pressed against the concert floor.

“Helios,” you saw your body glow yellow like the sun. “Destroy.” The glow traveled across the room. As the glow moved throughout the compound, you saw everything Helios encountered. The members of Ascendencia were in a panic; some ran for the exit. “Capture,” Helios grabbed those that ran and cemented them to the ground. You saw Victor order those around him to stop you, but it was too late. The most important thing was that Helios did not see Natasha and Yelena; they must have made it out.

“Boom,” you mumbled. You felt the explosion first. The heat and power of Helios sent you flying into the wall. With you still connected to the sun, you heard and felt all the lives that were taken. The pain was unbearable, and you fell into the darkness, welcomed by a call from your mother.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

There was a pressure on your chest when you came too. You opened your eyes and blinked a few times from the harsh light. On your chest was blonde hair cut into a bob, and she was resting on your chest. “Natasha,” you mumbled. She sat up quickly, eyes wide when she heard your voice. There were bags under her eyes, and her cheeks were blotchy. Carefully, you cupped her cheek and moved her thumb across her skin. “Am I dead?” Your ex laughed, shaking your head. You watched tears form in her eyes.

“No,” she whispered. “You almost were. It was touch and go for so long I wasn’t sure if you would make it,” you pushed a few tears that fell away. “Tony is pissed.” You chuckled.

“At me or you?”

“Both,” it was her turn to smile, but it was shaky. You moved your hand to her neck and pulled her closer to you. She protested, mumbling about not wanting to hurt you. You hushed her and moved over so she could lie down next to you. Her face was buried in the space between your neck and shoulder. Her breath fawned against your neck. Natasha’s voice was soft as she explained everything.

According to Natasha, she and Yelena got out just in time before the building exploded. Yelena couldn’t stop her sister from returning to find you. While Natasha searched for you, Yelena called the woman from the fruit stand - Gloria. When the older Black Widow found you, a white glow surrounded you. You were alive but barely.

They were able to move you to Gloria’s home, where you stayed until you were stable enough to move back to the Avengers’ compound in Upstate New York. That was three weeks ago. While you were healing, Natasha brought the Avengers together and started the process of taking down the Ascendencia. It was slow work, but it was going well.

You knew she could do it. There was something about Natasha that drew people in. “Everyone knows,” she said and sat up so she could see your face. “Tony tried to stop it, but everyone knows you are the Polaris.” Somehow, you knew this day would come, and you were okay with the world knowing. It was a surprise your secret lasted this long.

“Okay,” you said. “That’s fine. I’ll have to do a press conference,” she gave you a pointed look. “It’s the truth. I’m okay with everyone knowing.” She nodded and hesitated to lay back down, but when you didn’t stop her. You ran your fingers through her blonde hair and watched the Black Widow melt against you. “I like the blonde,” you said. “But I do miss the red.” Natasha rested her chin on your chest and looked up at you.

“Tell me, you meant what you said before we left that room,” she said. “Do you love me?” You sighed.

“I tried to stop,” you said. “Drowned my feelings with booze, being the Polaris, and women that I didn’t care about,” her hand went to the side of your neck, a protective grip on it. “Nothing worked. Ever since that party, you’ve trapped me inside your web.” The Black Widow rolled her eyes at your spider pun.

“I’m sorry,” you knew it was hard for her to apologize. “You were right. I made a decision that wasn’t mine to make.”

“Tasha, I wasn’t living until I met you,” you whispered. “You gave me a reason to live.” It seemed natural as you both gravitated towards each other until your lips touched. Sighing into the kiss, you twisted your hand in her hair. No matter how many years together, kissing Natasha made your stomach flip. It was your favorite thing.

“Oh my fucking eyes,” you and Natasha jumped apart at the sound of Yelena’s voice. “I’m glad you are awake, but I did not need to see your tongue down my sister’s throat.”

“Suka,” Natasha mumbled and climbed out of the bed to sit back in the chair. You chuckled and took her hand in yours, not wanting to be away from her completely. When your parents were killed, you thought your life was over. Then you became the Polaris, and there was a reason for you to get out of bed each day. But being a vigilante lost its meaning. All of your hope was lost until you met Natasha. She was your missing peace, your true north, your reason to exist in this vast galaxy.

[spider-stark]

INFINITELY YOU

part three // spitfire

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, minors DNI

WORD COUNT - 4.5k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker // tobey!peter = pete

On the walk back from Peter Pan’s, it seemed as though Parker had managed to entirely escape the sputtering awkwardness that had ensnared him the night before. 

And, after countless city blocks of listening to him babble about absolutely everything and anything, you realized that there was one very striking similarity between him and Peter. 

Both boys had a fervent interest in all things nerd. 

“New Hope takes place nearly two decades after the rise of the Galactic Empire, meaning that Leia is only nineteen when she's kidnapped and forced aboard the Death Star! Which is like, absolutely insane, right? Seriously! Imagine being nineteen years old and stuck inside of something that has the potential to obliterate an entire planet!” 

Shoving open the lobby door to your complex, Parker hardly even waits for you to hum your agreement before continuing his retelling of the Star Wars film. 

“And at the exact same time, Luke is finally beginning his Jedi training! Which, honestly, nineteen is actually super old for that, but-” 

Moving towards the stairs, Parker close on your heels, you cut him off with a question. “Too old? Nineteen is hardly even an adult,” you argue. “What age do most Jedi start training?” 

“About four or five, so obviously Luke was way behind,” 

Not even a full three stairs up, you come to a grinding halt, leaving Parker to bump into your back. “Four?!” You cry out, wide-eyed as you spin around to face him. “That’s insane!” 

Parker only lifts his shoulders, clearly not understanding the reason for your horror. 

Furthering your point, you add, “There’s nothing ethical about taking a bunch of little kids and training them to be weird, intergalactic warriors!” 

“It’s the best way to train them!” He lifts his hand defensively, explaining, “The earlier they start training, the less likely it is that the kids will have formed an attachment to their families! That way they learn to act out of logic instead of emotion!” 

For a heartbeat, you’re rendered entirely speechless by the absurdity of his claim, left to stand with your mouth agape as you blink at him. 

“That sounds like emotional abuse,” you finally huff, shaking your head. “Actually, scratch that—it doesn’t sound like emotional abuse, it just is!” 

“It’s not abuse-” 

You hold a hand up, stopping him before he can say anything else. “Give me one good reason why a group of adults should withhold love and affection from children if they aren’t abusing them.” 

“Uh, how about the fact that love is basically what made Anakin turn to the dark side!” Parker scoffs, clearly unwilling to recognize how insane the notion he was pushing actually is. 

“Or maybe Anakin turned to the dark side because he was indoctrinated and traumatized by some stupid space cult!” 

The expression on his face is downright laughable. 

It was as if you had just reached out and slapped him across the face. His jaw went slack, his mouth hung open in blatant offense. As a sputtering noise falls from his lips, trying and failing to come up with a good rebuttal, you smirk. 

“Exactly,” you boast, taking his inability to speak as a sign of victory. 

Twirling on your heel, you continue up the stairs, nearly all the way to the top before you finally hear him come stomping up behind you. 

“The Jedi Order is not a cult!” He finally shouts after you. 

Already traipsing through the hallway, fiddling with your keys, you sing-song, “Whatever you say, bug-boy.” 

Reluctant to admit defeat, Parker continues grumbling under his breath as you unlock the door, spouting something off about your lack of respect for George Lucas. 

“Look,” you tell him, pushing the door open, “if liking Star Wars matters this much to you, then I’ll gladly watch them with you.” A wry smile plays on your lips as you turn to look at him, standing in the doorway, “Maybe watching them will be enough to change my opinion on turning kids into galactic slaves.” 

Eyes narrowing in a playful glare, he’s only able to hold the expression for less than a few seconds before a laugh causes him to break character. “I just can’t believe that Peter hasn’t made you watch them already,” he admits. “I had you watch them so much that you could probably recite the scripts from memory alone!” 

His amusement dies off as soon as he finishes the sentence. Despite having been the one to bring it up, the mention of his world seems to cast a sullen shadow over him, ruining his sweet, boyish smile. 

Curiosity instantly claws at you, begging you to ask him why his world seemed to have such a negative effect on him. Or, rather, why his version of you seemed to have such an effect. 

This had happened last night too, when you had asked him if the two of you were friends in his world—and it was because of this that you assume that you’re somehow the common denominator in his discomfort. 

Still, you don’t let yourself ask him about it. For as much as you’re starting to like Parker, you don’t know him nearly well enough to try prying into his life. 

Not yet, at least. 

“Well, you’re more than welcome to force me into sitting through them in this world, too.” You tell him sweetly, sweeping an arm out to gesture inside of your apartment, inviting him. “It’s not like I’ve got any plans for the rest of the day.” 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you did have plans. Life had been so quiet since that last night with Peter and Mj—the night when everything went so horribly wrong. 

Parker sucks in a breath through his teeth, a hand coming to rest against the back of his neck. “I should probably get back out on the streets,” he reluctantly says, sounding more like he was convincing himself of that than you. “But, I don’t know, maybe we can take a rain check on it, yeah?” 

Disappointment washes over you, sudden enough that you’re sure it shines through on your face. It takes a shocking amount of willpower to stop yourself from trying to persuade him to stay, wanting to remind him that two other Spider-Men were already running themselves ragged in pursuit of the villains—so why did he have to go, too? 

You had grown used to his constant talking, having found solace in the chatter that kept you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay so that you wouldn’t have to be alone; so that you wouldn’t have to risk thinking too long about Doctor Strange or the multiverse or constants or Peter. 

The thought of admitting any of that out loud, however, felt incredibly humiliating. 

“For sure,” you force a smile, trying to ignore the many thoughts swirling in your mind. Then, eyeing the slightly too-tight Ramones shirt that he’d stolen from you, you add, “But shouldn’t you at least come in and change?” 

His nose wrinkles slightly as he shakes his head. “Nah—I think this city has more than enough spider-people swinging around it right now. I figure we might actually benefit from one of us patrolling on the ground-level, y’know? Maybe I can ask around for any giant lizards or blown light bulbs.” 

It’s hard to tell if the last bit is meant to be a joke or not, but you laugh anyway if only to avoid knowing why you should be worried about lizards and light bulbs. 

“Sounds like a plan,” you second his idea. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then?” 

A surprising sense of joy lights his eyes at the sound of your hesitance, unfitting of the simplicity of the moment, but charming nonetheless. He grins—a wide and endearing sort of grin—as he takes a step back, “I won’t be gone long,” he promises before reminding you, “lock the door behind you, alright? And if you need anything-” 

He pauses, patting the pockets of his jeans only to remember that he didn’t bring a phone with him to this universe—and that, even if he did, there likely wasn’t a wireless plan good enough to support multiversal travel. 

“If you need anything, call 911.” 

“Got it,” you laugh, watching as he stumbles backwards towards the stairwell, cheeks red with faint embarrassment. 

Turning to go inside, you can’t ignore the warmth that now blooms in your chest. 

You could definitely get used to having him around. 

A peculiar sensation prickles at your skin, curling along your spine like icy fingertips. 

Something was wrong. Very wrong. 

The usually comfortable atmosphere of your apartment had shifted. An eerie tension fills the space, a near-suffocating feeling that has the very walls holding their breath, humming a tune of warning as you inch further into the living room. 

Your stomach twists as the sharp tang of exhaust fumes fills your nostrils. By the couch, a faint breeze rustles the curtains of a window, wafting in the nauseating scent of the city street below—a window that hadn’t been open when you left earlier. 

A mere foot or so away, you notice that the picture frame Parker had been fiddling with before is now lying on its face, having been knocked off the end table and abandoned. Atop the table, you notice that the lamp is sitting askew, its base just inches from tumbling over the edge and joining the frame. 

Someone had come in through your window—and it didn’t appear as though stealth had been very important to them, given that they had clearly stumbled into the table upon their entrance. 

Adrenaline floods your senses, your spine stiffening as you take a series of slow, quiet steps. 

Moving towards the corner, you carefully reach out a hand to grab the metal bat propped against the wall. The bat had been an unlikely housewarming present from when you first moved in, given to you by Peter’s mentor and your own reluctant renegade, Tony Stark. For nearly two years now it had sat in this corner, unused and gathering dust—until now. 

You wrap your fingers tightly around the base, wincing slightly as the rubber grip pulls at the still-healing flesh on your palm, making you curse yourself for not properly bandaging the wound last night. 

But you’re used to pain—and so you’re easily able to bite back against it as you ease through the living room, checking for any sign of the intruder's presence. 

As you walk, gripping the bat like your life depends on it, you can’t help but hear Tony Stark’s voice echo in your mind. 

If you’re gonna live alone, then you should have some sort of protection—he had told you, gently placing the cool steel into your hands for the first time, a ribbon tied sloppily around it—not that you need it. 

Satisfied with your search of the living room, you start easing towards the hall. You’re good at sneaking around, having had a lot of practice at it—every movement you make is calculated, every footfall so purposefully gentle that it’s nearly silent. 

Quiet as you were, you could do nothing to ease the sound of your blood thrumming wildly in your own ears, your heart pounding against your chest. 

The incessant beating worries you—because you know that there are people in the world with the unnatural ability to hear such things. Peter, even with his enhanced hearing, had to be close to someone in order to hear something as soft as their heartbeat; but you had heard rumors that there were others who could hear a pulse from miles away, others like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

The thought makes your blood run cold, though you try to push the worries from your mind. From what you know, the Devil doesn’t have a habit of breaking into apartments, nor was Queen's his usual jurisdiction. 

No—what you were dealing with had to be no more than an average burglar! 

An average burglar who, somehow, scaled up the side of a building to break into your apartment… 

Alright—you think, approaching the end of the hall—perhaps it’s a not-so-average burglar, then! Still better than the Devil. 

Peeling one hand from the bat’s handle, you curl your fingers around the doorknob to the guest room, Parker’s room. You ease the door open slowly, trying to keep the old hinges from crying out as you peer into the space. 

The sweet scent of vanilla is the first thing that hits you, contrasted by the subtle bite of vetiver. 

Parker—the room smells of him, even though he had only been here for one night. 

On the bed, the quilt is rumpled and thrown about, pillows strewn about. The doors of the armoire are wide open, a few old shirts hanging over the edge of one of the shelves, no doubt from when he went digging through your clothes in search of something to wear. 

The room was messy, but empty. 

Your shoulders sag, half-a-breath loosing from your lungs. The relief is short-lived, however; as by the time you edge back into the hall to turn towards your own door, you’re overwhelmed with dread. 

If whoever broke in was still here, then this was the only place they could be—save for the bathroom, though you seriously doubt any burglar would have much interest in scouring through your toiletries… 

Easily, gracefully, you twist the knob, the metal yielding quietly to your careful touch. 

The curtains are tightly drawn, eradicating any trace of sunlight and leaving the room cloaked in shadows. But, even in the darkness, you’re able to see the rough outline of a figure sprawled out across your mattress. 

For a split second, you think of Parker’s advice to call 911, the weight of your phone suddenly heavy in your back pocket. 

You think of how you should follow that advice. 

You think about how fast you could run—if you would be able to reach the front door before they could catch up to you. 

But then you stop thinking, disregarding all logic and reason as you take a step into the room, as if drawn in by some invisible force. 

Remaining mindful of your surroundings, you slowly approach the edge of the bed. Squinting in the darkness, you try to study the body laid out atop your comforter. Watching the steady rise-and-fall of their chest, it suddenly hits you that, whoever they are, they’re asleep. 

Slinking around the corner and coming to stand at your bedside, you’re finally close enough that you can see them in spite of the absence of light. Crimson and blue spandex clings tightly to their arms as they cling one of your pillows to their chest, and you feel your entire body sag with relief as you loosen your grip on the bat. 

So this must be Peter 2. 

The fabric of his mask is bunched up and resting along the bridge of his nose, which is somewhat smushed against the pillow he’s holding, no doubt leaving him to breathe in the scent of laundry detergent and your perfume. 

Lower, you can make out the subtle contours of his jawline and the curve of soft, pink lips. Higher, you’re met with the impassive stare of then white lenses sewn into his mask. 

The lenses shield his eyes from your view, and a curious feeling begins to tug at the furthest corners of your mind. Take it off—it seems to whisper, compelling you to move in closer, your shins pressing against the side of the mattress—take it off. 

You grit your teeth and try to ignore the feeling, try to ignore the velvet-voice slithering through your mind; begging you to look at him, to touch him, to notice him, to-

Pain shoots along the side of your temple, likely in response to the sudden tightness in your jaw. It distracts you enough that you’re able to shake the strange feeling long enough to regain your focus—even if the remnants of it still linger. 

You shouldn’t be interested in him—you should be pissed at him. 

Not only had he broken into your house, which was already bad enough, but he had also climbed into your bed and made himself cozy! The absolute gall, the audacity he must have, has you allowing the tiniest sliver of rage to ignite inside of you. 

Both hands still gripping the bat, you lower it from where it rests against your shoulder to swiftly jab its head into his stomach. 

A cough sputters past his lips as the impact pushes the air from his lungs. 

You’re actually shocked that you landed the blow—in truth, you had expected his spider-sense to kick in and detect the incoming hit, waking him with just enough time to dodge the shot. But, apparently, his instincts had made the mistake of assuming that you were of no threat to him. 

“Morning sunshine,” you chime, your feigned cheerfulness set off by a sneer. 

He’s scrambling into an upright position, knees sinking into the mattress as he presses a hand against the sore spot you’d created on his stomach. “What the fu-” 

His voice is hoarse—from sleep or pain, you’re not sure—and he doesn’t finish the curse spewing from his mouth once his head shoots up towards you, as if finally registering the sound of your voice. 

“I don’t know what things are like in your world,” you muse, swinging your bat back to rest against your shoulder, “but in this one, breaking and entering is considered a crime.” 

He’s still catching his breath, and while those damn white lenses covering his eyes give so little emotion away, you assume that he’s going to apologize. It’s what Peter would do, and Parker, too. 

But not him. 

“Your friends said I could stay here,” he defends himself. Taking another deep breath and extinguishing the burning in his lungs, the lower-half of his face transforms into a defiant smirk. “It’s not breaking and entering if you were invited.” 

“And did they tell you to sleep in my bed, too?” You shoot back, brows rising in annoyance. “Word of advice: next time you’re invited to stay in a total stranger’s house, maybe try not to repay their kindness by crawling through their window.” 

He mocks you without missing a beat, “Word of advice: you live in a shitty neighborhood—if you don’t want people coming through your windows, you should try locking them.” 

“Ah, right! Cause the average person is definitely willing to scale the side of a building for the prospect of an unlocked window!” 

“You’re a pretty girl in a dangerous city,” he drones, lifting a shoulder as he meets your sarcasm with purposeful calm. “You’d be surprised what people would be willing to do for a chance at getting you alone.” 

The insinuation sends a shiver down your spine, but you mask your unease, flashing a smile that’s more predatory than sweet. “Aw,” you coo, “so you think I’m pretty?” 

He returns the expression, skillfully avoiding your derisive question. “I think you’re irresponsible—and a little cocky.” 

“Better to be cocky than a felon,” you remark. “Just spare my neighbors the acrobatics show next time, would you? Maybe try knocking on the door like a normal person! Preferably when you’re not dressed like… that.” 

It’s not that his suit wasn’t nice, because it was. But it lacks the advanced Stark-tech that makes Peter’s suit so uniquely sleek, meaning that it was likely safe to assume that no one in this world would mistake this boy for the real Spider-Man. 

Unless they were to catch him scaling up the side of your building… 

“I tried knocking.” he sounds exasperated, as if you are testing his patience. “You weren’t home.” 

You snort a laugh, wondering if he truly believes that is all the reason he needs to break into someone's home. 

“Then you should’ve waited until I got home,” 

“I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I was too tired to wait.” 

“Then you should’ve slept in the alleyway with the rest of the strays,” you hiss at him, fingers tightening around the bat as your frustration builds. 

The sheer ferocity in your voice gives him pause, stunning him into silence. 

Then the corner of his mouth begins to twitch upwards, lazily grinning at you as if he actually enjoys the verbal onslaught. 

You can tell that he’s watching you through those white lenses, and his tongue darts over his bottom lip, you feel your breath catch in your throat. “Fine,” amusement dances in his tone as he raises his gloved hands, “fair enough.” 

For a moment, no sound comes from your parted lips, leaving you to stand there gaping at him until you remember how to speak. “Fair enough?” You echo, shaking your head slightly. “That’s all you’ve got? No apology?” 

He moves, forcing you to take a step back as he shoves his legs over the side of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s not as tall as Parker, but he still stands an inch or so higher than you, making it hard to not feel intimidated as he stares down at you, your own face staring back from the reflection of his lenses. 

“Better not push your luck, Spitfire,” 

He’s baiting you—he has to be! Using a stupid nickname to get under your skin, to try and prod further at your short temper. And it’s working—god, you hate how much it’s working!—because you find yourself contemplating putting his superhuman durability to the test by whacking him over the head with your bat. 

“By the way,” he says before you have a chance to act on your intrusive thoughts, pointing at your hands, “you’re bleeding.” 

As if his words switch a flip in your head, you’re suddenly aware of the acute throbbing in your palm. You loosen your grip on the bat, letting it clatter recklessly to the floor as you hold your hand out to examine it. 

Unsurprisingly, the rubber handle managed to tear open the barely-healed cut on your palm, courtesy of your too-tight grip on it. You hiss through your teeth, watching as blood oozed from the cut, dripping down towards your wrist. 

Slipping past you, the boy only half-manages to stifle his laugh. “You should probably take care of that.” 

He’s already slipping out into the hall by the time you regain enough awareness to follow after him, gritting your teeth against the pain. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

“To the other room,” he calls over his shoulder. Once he’s standing in front of Parker’s door, he spins back around to face you, his snarky expression still in-tact. “Where I’m hoping you won’t follow me.” 

Everything about him causes your blood to boil—his grating voice, his insolent attitude, his stupid soft lips. 

“Would it kill you to be nice to me?” You exclaim, your voice strained with pain as you try to wrap your hand in the lower half of your shirt. 

It takes no-time for blood to start seeping through the thin material, and you certainly don’t look intimidating like this—the lower half of your abdomen on display as you try to apply whatever pressure you can to the wound—but you don’t care. 

“I don’t have to let you and Parker stay in my house—I’m doing it because I’m nice, alright? And, so far, you’ve been nothing but a dick!” 

The thin fabric of his mask shifts, brows furrowing at the mention of Parker. Unlike Peter, however, he doesn’t bother commenting on the nickname. “Nice isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe you. Especially since you’re the one calling me names.” 

The levity in his tone makes you want to scream—what was his deal?! 

You press harder against your bleeding palm, your breathing turning shallow. You’re not sure if it’s frustration or pain or what, but you feel like your head is spinning. “Look, I don’t know you, alright? But this? Isn’t gonna work,” you bark at him, chin lifted defiantly as you stare into his mask, unrelenting. “If you plan on staying in my house, then you’ll get your shit together—got it?” 

His head tilts, curiously watching as you continue your frantic speech. 

“No crawling in through my windows or sleeping in my bed or smarting shit off! And take off that stupid mask!” You huff, shaking your head. “Or, I don’t know, pull it down the rest of the way! Just do something because you look stupid like that!” 

The words are spewing from your mouth like a torrential downpour, fueled by the rage swirling in your stomach and the throbbing in your hand and—

He laughs, a genuine laugh that isn’t born of derision, and you feel your racing thoughts slow to a halt. “You should work on your insults,” reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs his mask off. “Because that was pathetic.” 

It’s no longer just your thoughts that have slowed, but the entire world. Everything around you feels like it has come skidding to a stop—leaving you staring up at him like a dumbfounded idiot. 

He’s beautiful—a commonality among Peter’s variants, it seems. 

He’s smirking, an infuriatingly charming smirk that lets you know he has no intention of listening to your demands for him to silence his quick wit. But you’re not focusing on that—no, you’re focusing on the features that had been hidden from you this whole time; his dark hair, tousled from removing his mask, falls in a chaotic halo around his face, contrasting the vibrance of his eyes. 

His eyes. 

They leave you breathless, and you hate it. Colored with the deepest cerulean you’ve ever seen, his eyes feel like staring into the depths of a crystalline ocean. You can almost feel yourself getting swept up in their tides, feel them enveloping you in a feeling of familiarity, as if this wasn’t the first time you had been pulled into their ebbing waters. 

“Have we–” your mouth has gone dry, your voice cracking. “Have we met before?” 

It’s a ridiculous question, and you recognize that even as it’s spilling from your lips. You couldn’t have met him before—not when the two of you weren’t even from the same universe! 

He seems to be thinking the same thing, and you’re already preparing to take the full force of whatever smartass comment he’s about to fling at you. “I’ve met you,” he says simply, taking you by surprise. Then he inclines his head towards your still-bleeding hand, “You should patch yourself up before you stain the carpet.” 

You look down at your hand, at the hem of your shirt, soaked in blood. 

“But just so I know,” you look back up, his body half-turned towards the door, his fingers resting against the knob, “if Peter and Parker are already taken, then who does that make me?” 

You have to force yourself to take a breath. “What did I call you in your world?” He’s silent for a moment, staring at the floor and chewing on his lip. Then, pushing the door to Parker’s room—their room—open, he smiles.

“Pete.”

a/n - ayyy, pete's finally here! and, ofc, lots of other little important details sprinkled around as well.

also, i really wanna say thank you to everyone who has been reading and enjoying this story so far! it truly means the world to me to read all of the nice comments and to know that you guys are interested in this story! so, again, thank you 💖 as always, please comment/like/reblog and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

part four, titled "blooms of subterfuge", to be released april 29th

[cherubfae]

Can you write Alastor x a Reader who works in radio? I don't think Alastor would let them on air since he doesn't seem the type to have a co host to me but maybe he'd have a intern who gets him coffee or a script writer.

"𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔦𝔯" || {𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯}

tags: gn!sinner!reader (described to have horns but is an otherwise ambiguous demon!!), fluff, pre-established relationship, mentions of death, true crime, vox being vox lmao, jealous alastor, blood/bloody play (sorta??), Valentino is his own warning (threats of SA but nothing happens), mentions of injuries and being kidnapped (use of chloroform), implied VoxVal, no smut but still MDNI

a/n: I hope you enjoy!! This got a bit long!

Much like Alastor's life before he died, you were also quite the popular radio host for your time. Engaging, funny, and respectable. Your audience loved tuning in the early hours of the morning to you recanting the strange occurrences of the multiple killings of men from the late 1920s until that stream suddenly stopped during the year 1933 within New Orleans, Louisiana.

True crime has always been your passion, in life and in death. You certainly didn't think you'd end up in Hell for taking the life of someone trying to mug you on the street. A tall, masked man who saw to it that you'd never see the light of day again. A couple gunshot wounds to your abdomen proved effective as you rest against the wall, bleeding out onto the concrete with your soon-to-be killer lying facedown and dead mere feet from you. Killed by the very thing you sought to bring awareness towards. Quite poetic in a way.

As your gaze clouds and vision becomes unfocused, you look up at the stars. The ares around you was beautiful. It was one of your favorite parts of town, even your death wouldn't taint the beauty of the stretching oak and maple trees reaching tall towards the skies. The faint sound of smooth jazz playing from the record shop only a few paces away mixing with the swirling scent of coffee. At least you were dying in a place that you loved.

Now, here you are. In Hell. Doomed to total damnation for all fucking eternity. You'd been down here for a couple months, taking up residence near Cannibal Town, yet still unsure of what to make of all the carnage, debauchery, and depravity. You didn't think you belonged in Hell, even if you took the life that simultaneously extinguished your own.

"What's wrong, dearie? I've known you to be quiet but today you are exceptionally so." Mused Rosie, her gentle tone pulling you out of your reverie. You glanced down at your tea, sighing.

Leaning your cheek against your palm, you meet her charcoal-black eyes. Genuine concern etched onto her politely beautiful face. "I'm just feeling lost is all, I guess. I told you how I ended up in Hell, right?" Solemnly, Rosie nods.

Placing down her tea cup, Rosie wiggles towards you a bit. "Maybe you just need to find that old spark again! Something that roused you when you were alive! I have a friend who was a radio host, same as you. He may be able to have a job for you! Alastor is as charming as they come!" She grins, her mouth full of pointed teeth on full display.

Your brow quirks. "Alastor? The Radio Demon?" Rosie nods, excitedly. Alastor had been the prolific serial killer that haunted New Orleans back in the 1920s. It felt weird that the main man-- subject, you studied in life would soon be your acquaintance and potential boss in death. You'd heard many hushed tales about the aforementioned Radio Demon dealing in bartered souls and how he wreaked havoc against his fellow Overlords overnight. He definitely seemed like the kind of demon you didn't want to make light of, or worse, be on his bad side.

"He's a quirky one, for sure, but don't listen to all those rumors and gossip!" Rosie waves her hand with a laugh. "Alastor is still a gentleman and I'm sure he'd be delighted to offer you a job! Maybe you can intern for him? Besides! If he's ever rude to you, ol' Rosie will kick him in the shins! I'll wear my extra-pointy boots!" She giggles, holding your hands in hers. "You'll be in good hands, my dear! I'll let Alastor know you're coming right away!"

Staring down at the neatly folded paper in your hand, you double and triple check the address scrawled in neat calligraphy.

Hazbin Hotel.

Was it normal for a former serial killer slash radio host to become a hotelier that's trying to rehabilitate sinners?

With a shrug, you made your way up the incline taking note of the rather ominous looking radio tower jutting out from the far-right side of the hotel. A sign displaying the words on-air was currently unlit and it looked quite dark inside from what you could see from the ground. Perhaps the great Alastor wasn't at home.

Knocking on the front door, you're greeted by a tall, deer-like demon with two-toned hair and sharp yellow teeth dressed in a dapper red-pinstripe suit complete with a microphone-like cane. Scarlet eyes stare down at you like a lion watching a gazelle. You feel utterly and completely exposed, like he's peeling back your every layer, surveying you, before he even said a single word.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, my dear! Quite a pleasure! You must be the little darling that dear Rosie sent, yes?" Alastor places his hand on your lower back, guiding you past the hotel's front doors and into the welcoming comfort of the establishment's front lobby and reception area. "This is a place where wayward sinners such as yourself can find peace and be led on the path of redemption to ascend to Heaven by Hell's very own princess, Charlie Morningstar!"

On queue, a blonde-haired girl sprints up to you squealing and flailing her arms a bit. She takes her hands in yours and offers you a big, delighted smile. You like her immediately. "Oh, my gosh! Welcome, welcome to Hazbin Hotel! I see you've met our gracious host Alastor! He's mentioned that you're going to be interning for him-- how exciting! We are so thankful to have you!"

With the attention directed back at him, Alastor grins with a whine of radio static. It was the equivalent of a lazy smirk with his half-lidded scarlet eyes taking you in one more, searching for any potential risks you may pose though you didn't intend any of that sort. You felt your skin begin to heat the longer his gaze remained on you, and hesitantly break the eye contact with the demon in favor of Charlie, who has been excitedly talking about all of the hotel's features.

To think, all those months ago had been the start of your journey with your friends. You had felt so out of place in Hell, in your new skin, uncomfortable with the weight of sharp horns protruding your skin and the strength of your clawed hands. You were quite pleasantly surprised at what you could withstand now as a demon.

"I brought your coffee, sir." Alastor hums out a soft 'thank you' yet continues to fiddle with the buttons and tracks on his console, not raising his head to look at you. "Rosie gave me some venison for you. She said aid it's your favorite when it's fresh and raw." Placing Alastor's simple black coffee on a small side table, you revere your boss with a fond expression. Rosie had been truthful she said he was the charming sort. There certainly was an air of respectability about him that men lacked from your time.

"Our dear Rosie is certainly a clever one, and she is quite correct. There is no better way to enjoy meat than having it served fresh. Preferably off the bone but this will do." Alastor tilts his head, turning to the side to regale you from the corner of his eyes. Those damn beautiful scarlet gems. "Something the matter, my dear?" Alastor's voice is a soft crackle.

Stumbling in surprise, you wrack your brain for a plausible answer. When you find none, you shake your head from side to side cursing the heat that sets your cheeks ablaze.

Alastor smirks, standing from his stool and approaches you. He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger; his claw lightly dragging across your lower lip. Blood beads up following the path his claw created. He swipes it up, licking it in front of you.

"Tasty," Alastor grins, leaning down and bumping his nose into yours. "As I said, meat is best when fresh." He squeezes your cheek lightly, chuckling at the exudes into his palm. "If I wasn't certain, I'd say you have a little crush on me, hmm?" He turns his back to you, those damned scarlet eyes that see straight through your soul strike you where you stand. "That'll be all now, dearest. Thank you for your time and your blood."

You couldn't get out of there fast enough. You weren't afraid of him, no, you were more scared of kissing him now more than ever. A fantasy of both of you pressed tight to one another with mouths soaked in blood would be all you can think of for hours.

Whatever was going on between you and Alastor continued on much like a game of cat and mouse only he seemed to be going out of his way more and more to fluster you, saying things that would catch you off guard.

"I don't think of myself as much of a man who desires a relationship beyond friends and family, but cohabitating with you as lifelong partners does sound desirable."

"Hmm, tell me. Are your horns sensitive?" His breath ghosts then one day, causing you to shriek and cover them. You pout, turning your head to glare at him. Alastor's grin only seemed to stretch further. "Only teasing, darling, no need to get so uppity."

It was a slow evening, Alastor had sent you off on another errand. There was a sense of apprehension worrying his brow, glancing at the analog clock. The hour hand strikes the 3am mark. He'd sent you off almost an hour and a half ago, so where were you?

Interference crackles onto his radio, Alastor hissing as the feedback screeches. With ears pinned back, his eyes narrowed further when a familiar voice crosses.

"Ugh, I will never understand why thr fuck you use this shit, Alastor." Groaned Vox. "Anyway, I got your cute assistant here. You should see them, shaking like a leaf." The radio glitches in tune with Vox's laughter. "Valentino here has been itching for a new plaything, doesn't that sound good, sweetheart? Maybe we can broadcast that for all of Hell to see, right Al--"

Smash. Alastor's fist smashes through the radio cutting off Vox's boastful rant.

On the other side of the city, Vox blinks in confusion. "I lost the radio signal? Oh, fuck, God this shit is so old." He sighs, leaning back in his chair. Spinning around, he gives you a wry smirk. "Guess we'll see if the Great Alastor comes to rescue his lost pup, hmm?"

Glowering at him, left bound and gagged, sitting on the cold, hard floor. Valentino gives a harsh tug on your hair, your teeth sinking into the cotton gag shoved in your mouth, a muffled grunt leaving you.

An electric feeling in the air has your hair rising. Vox and Valentino share a confused look. A large fist blasts inside of the V Tower, claws sharp as they did through the metal like it was butter.

"Oh, fuck, it's Alastor!" Vox shrieks, scrambling to get away from the broken window. A second fist smashes through sending Vox into the opposing wall with a deep thud. Valentino runs to his friend's aid, helping him up.

"Well, this is what you wanted, honey."

Vox groans in protest. "I know."

Green electricity crackles, a dark shadow pooling into the room and with a shriek, manifests into Alastor.

Paying the two no mind, Alastor crosses the threshold and kneels down before you. His clawed fingers are gentle as he removes the gag around your bruised mouth. "Sorry it took me so long, mon cour." A tentacle bursts through his back, spiraling directly into Vox and Valentino, sending the two into the neighboring room with a loud crash.

Scooping you into his arms, Alastor calmly walks through to the next room, his hand cupping the back of your head. "Rest." He regards the other two males with a snarling crackle.

"If I didn't have more important matters to attend to, I would eviscerate you two gents. Touch what is mine again and I'll broadcast your fucking screams all over Hell." Alastor hums, exiting V Tower.

"Holy shit! Did you see?? He finally sees me as his rival!" Vox cheers, tossing both arms into the air in celebration.

Valentino sighs, "Honey, you need psychiatric help."

"This may sting, but I trust that you can handle it." Alastor says, rubbing off the blood from your brow with a cotton ball doused in isopropyl alcohol. Wincing softly, you take the moment to look at him closely. You'd never seen Alastor so disheveled. Even with dealing with enemies, he was always composed. But, tonight, he had been anything but the picture of composure. He looked positively feral.

"Is there something about my face you find interesting, dearest?"

Squeaking, your face flushes, shaking your arms frantically. Gasping you quickly place a hand to your ribs. Guess they really did fracture something when they knocked you out.

Alastor stills your hands with his own. "Easy now, pet. You're in no state to be moving around like an interpretive mime. I was only teasing you, my dearest. You had me worried tonight."

Hanging your head low, you turn your gaze away. "I'm sorry, Alastor. I don't know how they got the drop on me. I was walking home and smelled something odd--," you gasped in realization. "Chloroform. It had to be."

Alastor growled tensely at that. He tied the bandage around your arm and with a snap of his fingers the medical kit disappeared and a serving tray appeared carrying a kettle full of hot chocolate and a staple 1920s dessert: pound cake. This one was drizzled with a bitter chocolate and filled with strawberries.

Alastor takes your hand and gently kisses your knuckles. "Care to join me for a treat?" His tone was a touch more gentle than it had been a heartbeat ago. You smile, nodding eagerly. He grins and begins to cut the cake, serving you first. "One more thing."

Softly, Alastor kisses your cheek. It was the lightest of touches and over as soon as it happened. He busies himself by pouring two mugs of steaming hot chocolate, the apples of his cheeks were a rosy hue.

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[lara-cairncross]

masterpost weewoo ✨✨

general art tag general ask tag fanfic recommendations

🧚hidden hollow au / rottmnt fairy au stuff:

au tag fanart/fanwriting tag "ask mikey" tag

original designs (this is kinda outdated now lmao)

brief intro comic

april -> leo size comparison

mini lore comic 1

info about mikey's talent

general idea for wings + shell anatomy

mini lore comic 2

info about leo's talent

mini lore comic 2.5??? (not important just funny to me personally)

shelldon exists. kinda.

thingy about their fangs (good color ref)

TURTLE TOTS

usagi intro!

raph shell ref

mini lore comic 3

ref for donnie's markings (kinda)

big lore comic 1

ao3 fanfics (from most recently updated to oldest)

link to my Ao3 page

are you lonely yet?

-> 6/? chapters, 11k words, english, Donnie- and- Mikey-centric.

notes: uhhhhh mikey gets hurt in a very damaging way. donnie blames himself big-time. they both think the other is mad at them. emotional angst woo hoo, but also kinda fluffy i think? also pretty heavy on disaster twins stuff

now it's red, now it's dead, now it's--

-> 1/2 chapters, 5k words, english, Mikey-centric.

notes: set in the Bad Future timeline! follows mikey's slow ascent into becoming something Other. lots of angst-- depression, disassociation, suicidal ideation, major character death, etc etc. probably my favorite fic that i've written? idk I love writing OP mikey!

the sun is a dying star

-> 3/? chapters, 10k words, english, mikey-centric but bounces between POVs

notes: started off as a one-shot but i got too ambitious for my own good. mikey is not having a good time. blah blah blah turtle-gets-kidnapped-by-scientists-or-something, but i wanted to focus more on like, psychological damage than physical damage. not sure when/if this one will get an update.

pizza bagels, communication, and other life-changing novelties

-> 1/3 chapters, 3.4k words, english, Miles- and- Mikey-centric.

notes: SHELLSHOCKED FIC WOOHOO !! THE ONE AND ONLY TIME I WILL WILLINGLY WRITE ROMANCE! uhhhh two teenagers pining for each other and doing dumb shit together and angsting about being children with the weight of the world on their shoulders. IT'S FLUFFY AND CUTE I PROMISE

it's golden hour somewhere

-> 1/1 chapters (completed), 7.4k words, english, Mikey- and- Karai-centric.

notes: one-shot. Karai POV, but focuses on turtle tot Mikey. basically the Hamato Sacrifice isn't the only curse that plagues the clan, and Mikey is the most recent Hamato to come under fire. predetermined fate and all that shit. fluff and angst. this one's kinda weird ngl I remember nothing about writing it or getting inspiration for it lmao

the icarus complex

-> 2/2 chapters (completed), 10k words, english, Raph-centric (and also kinda Leo-centric in second chapter).

notes: deals with Raph's PTSD following the Kraang invasion, and one possible coping mechanism he could fall back on. spoiler alert it's NOT a healthy one lmao. definitely one of the more interesting fics I've written in my opinion; I did a lot of research for this one to make it as realistic and respectful as I could. another personal fav :)

equivalent exchange (and other things that give Leo a headache)

-> 1/? chapters, 2.5k words, english, Future!Leo- and- Mikey-centric.

notes: another Bad Future timeline fic, this time with Present Mikey accidentally ending up with Future Leo. follows the two of them trying to figure out how to get Mikey back to his timeline. I still love this concept, but idk when I'll get around to updating it tho lmao

that's where the blood's supposed to be!

-> 2/2 chapters (completed), english, Mikey-centric.

notes: Mikey gets hit hard during a fight but brushes it off, and it comes back to bite him later. takes place after the show, but before the movie-- right when the whole Leo vs Raph kerfuffle is at its peak. questionable medical information but I did my best lmao. this one's kinda old and cringey atp but whatever

other stuff

fanart for 3 months au tag

fanart for golden future au tag

glass turtle keychains example

College Fund (aka my Ko-fi page :>)

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König AU Writing Masterlist

Masterlist

Konig Dump

Happy Tails:

KorTac decided to rent some space in a small animal adoption cafe to provide an animal therapy program for their agents. König came for the snacks.

Intro [1] [2] [3]

Summoned!CoD AU

Reader, or Summoner, was forced by the military to summon a beast of war to use in battle. Unfortunately, Summoner isn't great at controlling themselves, so they accidentally summoned a being far too powerful for any of you to control.

Intro

None of Your Shit

Ever Watchful

An Ant Among Men Among Gods Among Cosmos

Kiss the Ocean Kiss Yourself (First Kiss)

Accidental Meteor Showers

An Unexpected Appearance of Softness

A Question Best Left Unanswered

Sweets and Sours and Maggots

Circles of Stars in Cosmic Waltzes

Writhe Beneath Me

Silly Games for Silly People

A Step Through Time, A Step Closer

A Different Definition of Ash

In The Heart of My Mother I Laugh

Mistakes Meld Realities Together

Paper Trails Leave Bleeding Hearts

Extras

The Best Song for Summoned!CoD

Nice Kidnapper!König

To live is to suffer. Your existence feels meaningless, and you know that if you dropped off the face of the earth, nobody would remember your name. Your one chance of happiness was speaking to a nice masked man at a bar, but your 'friends' had cut off your time and stolen you away. Little did any of you know, he'd steal you back soon enough.

Intro [1] [2]

First Time Out of the Basement

Flickering Shadows Hide the Light

Cream and Honey and Thorns and Nettles

Ablutions with Acid

Carve the Fat

The Possibility of an Open Window

Do You Miss What You Had? Do You Miss Who I Was?

Long Pig

Read Me To Sleep, Let Me Drift Away

I Entered Daniel's Den and I Saw the Truth Before Me

A/B/O Universe

In a world where military soldiers are forcibly paired up with partners to produce more soldiers, König is paired with an omega O, and has to deal with the new changes in his life.

Intro

My Ever Empty Bed

An Olive Branch Among Thorns

Declivities

Two Can Play At That Game

To Market to Market to Buy a Fat Hog

Aren't You Tired Yet?

I Sit With You And Cry For What Could Have Been

The House is Burning, and Everyone is Laughing and Smiling [1] [2]

Kinktober

Ghostbusters AU:

Who ya gonna call? GHOSTBUSTERS

New Recruit

A Conversation with Those Who Laugh at Death

You're a What Now?

Basement Bros

Infection!AU

You've managed an off-grid farm ever since you parents passed. It's been years, but you've endured the winters and grown to be an incredible homesteader. However, that was before the lights went out, and the barracks north of you went to shit.

Monster Trainer!Cod

Reader, code name Handler, is assigned by higher ups to be the Designated Operator of König, a rowdy and difficult-to-control jotunn/nachtkrappe shifter hybrid with a strange history of 'accidents' with his previous handlers. Your best bet to get by is to speak to others on base, but nobody is forthcoming with information.

Talking Heads Roll On Floors

Headaches Split my Skull, Stop Talking

Mischief and Mayhem

A Knot Undone Spills Forth Endless Possibilities

Break Down Build Up

Phantom of the Opera!AU

Inspired by a glorious ask, a version of Phantom of the Opera where König is our beloved phantom trying to save reader from the horrible fate of being seduced by a lover from the past with a dangerous agenda. König is a twisted man, but it takes a dark soul to recognize another, and so he will do whatever he can (from the shadows) to save his beloved songbird.

The ask the inspired it all

A Man Among Ruins

Lights Go Out I Wake Up

Cannibal King!AU

Taking place in the world of Sons of the Forest, reader is trapped on a remote island. Soon she is kidnapped by a cannibal king. Once by his side, she learns that life in the woods isn't as painful as expected, adn that humanity comes in many forms.

King Cannibal Conquer Quest

Rest Well Reign Strong

Fuck Me Like A Bitch So I May Love You More

Stars Whisper Prophecies into Waiting Wells

Sweet Like Honey Suckles, Bloody Like Venison

Local Executioner!König

Living in a small village leads to a tight-knit community. When you father left to be an adventurer after your mother passed in childbirth, you were taken in by the village baker, your uncle. You always avoided the public executions, but your uncle gets sick and can't go out to market to sell his buns on the very day an execution is slotted. You must go, and there you find a cursed outsider who sparks your interest.

Carve Out a Place for Me to Sing

Hope is in Buns, Life is in Stars, Promises are in Vain (Pt 2)

Behind The Dew You Sing To Me (Pt 2) (Pt 3)

Cat Hybrid!KorTac

Horangi and König are sick and tired of roughing it on the streets. They were born and bred to be soldiers, but the batch of kittens that were meant to be made into KorTac's next greatest soldiers escaped into the city, they had to grow up on the streets. They made their little gang, but Horangi and König always wanted more. One day, reader comes along and finds two sick kittens on the street. Unable to stop herself, she brings them in and nurses them back to health. She immediately regrets her decisions.

Intro

Konig and Horangi Refs

Hunters

Horangi Wink

Horangi's Hoard Art

Meeting the Human Forms (First Time)

Cuddling Konig

Move comic

Food Quality Ask

Get Out of There! Comic

Devourer of Treats Ask

Child Locks Ask

Buzzing Static Burns The Silence Between My Ears (Ask)

Art from This Post

[yan-lorkai]

*vibrating in excitement for platonic yanderes*

Ok, so I haven't watched black butler in years, imma re-watch it soon tho, so if none of this makes sense it's cause my memories shit and you can just ignore this lol

Anyway, here's my idea/request, Obv platonic yandere Ciel with a young reaper reader (14-16)? Like maybe they meet through Grell who mentors the lil reaper. Or maybe like a young ghost reader, he meets during an investigation or smth.

Your free to pick which one obv, anyway. I hope you are having a wonderful day luv, make sure to eat and stay hydrated!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Lemon, I made you wait a little but I finally finished this request hehe, despite having changed it a little and distorted some historical facts. Funfact: Ouija boards were created in 1891, but for the sake of this fic let's all ignore that Ciel was born in 1875; btw yesterday was his birthday. Congratulations Ciel <33. Also, many people have a hc that his real name has something to do with stars, hence the nickname present in the fic. Having said all that, I hope you enjoy Lemon, I loved writing this! Happy reading everyone!!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Platonic yandere content, spoiler about Ciel's brother in case nobody knows about it, ouija board and some typos probably!

Ciel likes to watch the sky. He likes to watch how the clouds race to overtake each other, he likes to watch the sun dancing alone in its place, twirling its colorful skirt of orange, yellow and pink during the hours that pass until finally the moon takes its place.

Quiet moments like this now, where he just sits in his armchair, his work all done and Sebastian far away, is when he can think about the things he's lost. But also the ones he won. If Sebastian had any knowledge about such thoughts, Ciel would certainly be subjected to his jokes and mockery.

The demon, while bound by the contract, could still make fun of his little master and he knew exactly how to embarrass the young lord. But Sebastian didn't need to know how the boy thinks about his twin brother, his parents, the employees and his childhood friend, Y/n; If they were alive now they would be maybe thirteen or fourteen, just like him and his brother. It was a fateful day, indeed.

The murder, the cult, Ciel hates remembering it, but he doesn't know how to let it all go. He's a child and there's no one he can ask for help - even if there was, perhaps his pride wouldn't allow it. He didn't ask for help when he was kidnapped, he didn't ask for help when he went through countless assassination attempts, nor did he ask for help with difficult tasks that the queen assigned him. He was the Phantomhive heir, the family's leader, he couldn't just simply ask for help.

The count narrows his blue eyes at the brooding darkness that has settled in his office, counting how many grains of sand fall into the hourglass and how long he has left in peace before Sebastian shows up to annoy him.

Maybe fifteen minutes.

With enough time for the boy to put his small plan into action, he pulled a wooden board from one of the drawers and placed it on the table. Ciel, by and large, was not superstitious, but recent events had left him puzzled. Moreover, he had a demon as his butler, a boy with super strength as his gardener, a sniper as his maid, and a soldier as his cook. In any case, he had even encountered death gods.

Therefore, if he suspected that the presence lingering over his shoulders while he worked or the entity hiding his items and making them appear in different places was something to be investigated, then he would investigate until his doubts were cleared. The giggles and whispers were becoming unsettling. Of course, he heard voices, but they were the voices of occultists, screams and cries from when they died at the hands of Sebastian.

But this particular voice was incredibly irritating and almost familiar.

Ciel scanned the wooden surface, wondering if he was a fool for buying it. The boy was almost certain that Sebastian knew about the board, but he decided not to comment; the butler had been rather distant since they returned from London that morning. Ciel didn't mind, quickly reading the rules and holding the pointer in his hands, trying to see something through it.

There was nothing… yet.

Ciel laid the pointer on the board and sighed, placing his fingers on it, ready to start. He hadn't said anything yet, but an aura already seemed to completely envelop his office. Or maybe he was anxious; he couldn't tell.

"Is there anyone there?" Ciel murmured, his firm voice echoing in the silent room.

For several moments, nothing happened. He really didn't expect anything to happen, judging this whole thing as something foolish that only became popular because of the horror stories that circulated in cities. He stared at the board intently, each letter in cursive, every mystical symbol adorning it, waiting for a response that would satisfy him. Impatiently, he repeated the question once more.

"Is there anyone there?" He looked at the pointer and then around. "If there is, give me a sign."

This time, the pointer began to move slowly across the board as if the entity on the other side was drowsy, gliding from one letter to another with a calmness that Ciel himself didn't possess. Ciel watched with intensity, his expression impassive. But inside, a strange feeling took hold of him.

It was real, after all. As real as shinigamis or Sebastian. He stifled another sigh in his throat.

"Who is there?" He asked, the words leaving his lips with determination.

Who behind the veil was tormenting him, holding on to him tightly so as not to be pulled into the forgetfulness of eternal sleep. He put more force on the pointer as if everything depended on the answer he would receive.

The letters came together to form words, and Ciel remained focused, but a hint of skepticism was present in his gaze when the words spelled out a name. Your first and last name.

"Y/N?" He wondered aloud.

Ciel may have lost a lot, but he also gained a lot. He gained another family, gained new friends allies, gained a new chance.

And yet… He hadn't gained you back. Or had he?

For a second, he let the pointer rest on the board, feeling a heavy sensation settle in his chest as he thought about the days when you used to stay by his side when he was bedridden with asthma, telling him your silly stories and jokes, all while holding his hand and looking tenderly at him. You were his best friend. And he missed you a lot.

And now you were here. You were here.

He placed his finger on the pointer again, still feeling doubtful if it was really you or some other spirit. Confidently, he asked something that only you knew. "What was the nickname that only you called me, and why?"

The nickname you used for him when it was just the two of you. Not for his brother, not for Ciel. If it was really you there, you would notice the small differences, as you did when you were alive.

The pointer moved, taking with each movement a beat of the young earl's heart. One by one, the letters formed a nickname forgotten by time and bitter memories of the only Phantomhive still wandering through this tedious world.

"Pleiades, that's what I used to call you." There was a pause, and Ciel felt his entire body trembling with the confirmation that yes, it was you on the other side. He straightened up in his chair, trying to show that he was calm — little did he know that you could perceive how surprised he was.

And you would tease him about it later.

"Just like your hair, they are blue, an optical phenomenon caused by the dispersion of light in the Earth's atmosphere." You explained, nodding as if he could see you. Ciel rolled his eyes but almost unconsciously smiled.

"I see you remain a know-it-all." He teased.

And you stuck your tongue out at him, moving your arms to make the chair he was sitting in slide backward. Ciel's cheeks immediately turned pink as a little yelp escaped his lips. He hadn't expected you to have more tricks up your sleeve, but soon he regained his composure and cleared his throat, watching you move the pointer.

"One of us has to be clever," You chuckled. "Obviously, I'm the smart friend."

Ciel let out a long sigh. "Your knowledge is all random, though."

You shrugged. What importance did any kind of knowledge have now that you were dead? You said nothing for a few minutes, running your fingers over the wood of the board and the supposedly mystical symbols. Being dead was boring, different for everyone, and you weren't even sure how your soul managed to escape the shinigamis for so long.

But you had one certainty; you were stuck in this world for some reason still. In many stories, there would be an unfulfilled desire or a want, and you had several, but you had made peace with the fact that you could no longer fulfill them. So what was still keeping you there?

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Ciel nodded, gesturing with his hand for you to continue.

"Can you free me? Can you invite me out?"

Ciel had already broken some rules, especially the one that said he couldn't play alone and that the player should have a form of spiritual protection, whatever they had faith in — a crucifix, a talisman, anything. Ciel, however, had a mark on his eye, so you assumed that nullified this rule. Did that thing serve as a protective mark, though?

The boy remained silent for some time, seemingly weighing the pros and cons of taking such action. To bind a spirit to himself, to the world of the living, when he knew he should let you rest in peace, when he knew such agreements were dangerous.

But he was still the selfish earl who liked to monopolize your time; he was still that same sickly boy who needed a friend. And no one else could be his friend but you. Only you understood him, after all.

He nodded.

It was foolishness, but not even Sebastian could have stopped him. He pressed the pointer harder, desperate for it to work, but of course, it would work if you were already in front of him, the dead proof that there could be life in death.

"I invite you, Y/n, to leave this board."

A warm feeling flooded your chest, as if your skin were kissed by the sun again after so long. You savored it for a moment, smiling, feeling strangely more alive than before, and withdrew your hand from the pointer.

"Can you see me?" You asked, your voice hoarse from not speaking for months.

But Ciel didn't seem to understand, not yet at least. So you touched his cheek as you did when congratulating him on a chess victory, and he felt it, his eyes widening as he assimilated the situation. You figured that now that you touched him, he could hear you, so you asked the question again.

And slowly, he nodded. You could only imagine what he thought of your bloodstained shirt and disheveled appearance, so different from the one you once proudly preserved. Times change, and so do you, and you were like this now, a lost ghost that not even death seemed to want.

You smiled, squeezing both of his cheeks and watching him shudder. It was good to see him, good to be back, even if nothing would be the same. Nothing could ever be the same again, but being able to touch him again after so long, you didn't hesitate to hug him.

You were together again.

[sonnyaavce]

CHAPTER # 0

The first meeting that was supposed to be drafted ended up being chaotic once everyone went to the watchtower. Some JL members as well some of the Dark that weren’t supposed to be around in base were quickly debriefed in the mission and found the current sight a bit amusing as they saw the small child spirit in one of the main leagues arms deep asleep and purring like a cat calmly.

Flash did indeed found it a bit cute at first but now it was just hilarious that Wonder Woman; who was known to be a fierce Amazonian, the one who hated male human contact would end up being demoted as a motherly figure by the small spectre and ‘wow’ wasn’t that a kicker, that ghost and spirits are real in the end? 

Now, don’t get him wrong but Barry is a scientist by hearth and a firm non believer in anything that relates to the supernatural; aliens and mutants? sure those are scientifically proved but death people, core magic and ghost? Nuh uh… nop, that’s way too kahooted for him and a very nonsensical non scientific stuff to be mixing himself with.

So, he knows he’s starting to look a bit crazed as he stared a tad contemplative at the small baby ghost ‘tuttelagé’ he corrects himself in his head ‘he’s a dead protective spirit’ but he’s just soooo curios…..

“We now will start with the debrief with the members of Dark explaining some background first” announced Batman over the table, making Barry focus on the rest of the team surrounding him; Superman and Aquaman together with Hal and Martian MH were moving documents and folders that the Bat had made in just five minutes after the mission and ‘how the fuck did he do that! He’s the Flash and even him isn’t that efficient to pull out a document in that short amount of time!’

“First things first, the mission” intones Constantine taking a cig and lighting it of with his magic “we, the Justice League Dark received an S.O.S tip from someone who claimed that there were some unknown cult people making the homeless disappear from some of your cities” making some quick slides and pictures appear “we noticed a pattern with them tho, they only kidnapped people with shady or non-visible outline; so some cities like Star City and Metropolis only had one or two missing and the only large one was of course…. Gotham and Bluddhaven, so we decided to involve the according héroes of these cities”

Zatanna then interrupted to add “We also noticed that some of these place still reeked death, from an old ritual that we found some clues into it, we discovered some things”

“First, what they did and how they did it before disappearing was concerning” added Constantine, as he releases a spell to burn of the cig “ and the second thing we noticed was, when we finally came in contact with one of these places we discovered these….”

Zatanna moved aside as a massive green looming circle came into view “Swamp Thing together with Enchantress managed to find some more clues about the deity these cults were trying to summon and among the common ones like Hades, Kali  or Anubis we found out this one belonging to an ancient god of the death like Mictlantecuhtli or Ah Puch, but we managed to narrow it down to one member that belongs to a group called The Endless”

Constantine then interrupts again, this time taking a long break as Batman grunts “now before we start explaining who these gals are we have to get understand this a’right? The Endless are a family of beings who are very prickly to bond with, but they are Death, Delirium, Desire, Despair, Destiny, Destruction and Dream and each of them is as ancient as a god, so we don’t mention these guys in the open likewise”

Zatanna then added “with this, now we had a lead on who they were trying to bring forth but also the location of the ritual they were trying to do” 

“But, where does this tuttelagé fall all into this?” interrupted Green Arrow looking towards Wonder Woman with the child still sleeping  in her arms “by Zatanna words, he’s a protection spirit not a death one, where does this kid spirit fall into this mess”

“We think the cultist as they were trying to summon Death itself but because Death doesn’t like to answer her phone, instead forcefully brought out one of his most closer charges” tutted Constantine answering the man.

“Death has tons of offspring scattered all around the multiverse for her to care to count but with what Z’ says it’s true about the little tick then this means someone hurt her son and his charge in a way that almost makes him fade away”

“And this is bad becauseee?” slurred stupidly Flash, Constantine exhaled annoyed at the speedster “because it means that whatever these idiots did, it hurt an offspring of Death itself, and Death isn’t as forgiving as Dream or Destiny; so if she so wants, she could end this world and be done with us because one of her children; because news ta ya Flash, Death adores her children equally”

The faces of several members of the Justice League were ashen as it dawn in, a heavy sense of dread sets in as everyone looks at the baby resting in Dianna's arms still sleeps soundly.

masterpost

[cod-imagines-fanfiction]

Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend (1.6k words part 4)

Summary: Valeria breaks into the headquarters of the Mexican Army in search of her wife.

TW: implied sexual violence, violence more generally (and Google Translated Mexican Spanish)

Note: I'm back from my home country y'all and free to write gay fanfiction once again. I'm working on the next part ASAP but I wanted to post this because you guys have been waiting forever. Thank you for all the lovely comments and the interactions!! means a lot to me that you guys enjoy reading this :>

Link to A03 Link to part 1, part 2, part 3. Next part: part 5

'Army soldier' was more than a type of occupation, more than any other job title; it was a lifestyle. It is truly a different way of life, a way of life that most people are simply not built for. A soldier's form - their straight back, their way of taking in the world around them within a second, their way of assessing everything as either hostile or neutral, their battlefield instinct - it all became an inseparable part of who they are. There is a certain instinct that gets drilled into soldiers, the instinct to act immediately and fast. The instinct to not think twice about running into danger. It is triggered immediately and triggered intensely. So when the emergency siren at the Mexican Army Headquarters wailed, the whole place came alive. No time was wasted before troops placed themselves in position. Snipers grabbed their rifles and headed for the rooftops, Captains and sergeants tuned into their mics, barking orders to their subordinates, assembling their troops as quickly as possible. Guards ran to their posts and pilots rushed to where their aircraft were getting readied by flying personnel, prepared to take off to gain an advantage in the airfield and a much-needed vantage point of what was happening. The armoury opened as many hands reached within for ammo and other equipment.

From the outside, it was a perfect scene of military efficiency and readiness. But from the inside, anxiety bubbled, threatening to cut loose.

"Why did this have to happen today of all days?" A soldier grumbled as he tightened his weapon belt.

"Someone planned this. It's the most popular day for annual leave," another responded as he grabbed his shoes.

"Dia de los Muertos," the first one said, his voice low and grim.

The Day of the Dead. Celebrated annually around November 1st but spanning over the course of multiple days. A day of celebration for life and death, a day to pay respects to those who have passed on. A time of parades on squares and community gatherings, with crowds of people in traditional costumes and painted faces taking to the streets to rejoice with others. A time when many troops were stationed outside the headquarters for public safety. A time, therefore, of relatively little staff being left behind to man the fort.

It was so perfect, Valeria almost giggled as she withdrew her knife from someone's body and let them drop to the floor.

She had infiltrated the headquarters from the underground tunnels that connected to some fields further out, which were created to be used in emergencies but had been long forgotten over the years. These were the same tunnels she took many years back when she wanted to see you on a day that she hadn't booked off. She would wait until most of the barracks were asleep before slipping away in the shadows, passing the guards and quietly unscrewing the lid that separated the tunnels from the world above ground. It was even more exciting once she taught you when and where to wait for her, at the end of the tunnel, among greenery and orange trees. Among the fields that you would lay on for the rest of the night underneath your blanket, touching each other's bodies and talking to the stars. Whispering how badly you'd missed each other, hearing the hum of insects in between short gasps and warm moans. Now, she had unscrewed these same lids and stabbed the person in front of her, dragging them out and passing the body along to the staff that followed her. They dumped the body back in the fields. Part of her found it annoying that these tunnels were always standing between her and her wife. And yet there was some charm, too. Travelling the bowels of the Earth for her love.

Having officially stepped on ground owned by the Mexican Army, El Sin Nombre and her people spread like a virus, taking down certain key spots and hiding bodies. Not enough damage to create immediate alarm, but good enough progress to feel confident about the next step. Her heart sped up in excitement as she thought of her wife, who was only one building and a lock away from her. And right in front of that building, was him.

Valeria looked out from one of the windows and saw Alejandro standing with his back straight, his face possessing a deep scowl as he conversed with Rudolpho. It had been many years since she last saw him, which was nothing memorable. There was no goodbye, no farewell. She had simply gotten up in the middle of the night and gazed at his face one final time; he glistened beneath the moonlight. He was younger then, his face smoother, his voice gentler; not yet hardened. A mass of muscle on a standard issue Army bed, he was unaware that the woman he loved was slipping right through his fingers. Unaware that by the time he woke up, she'd be gone.

There'd be nothing left behind to prove that she even existed. All of her things just went missing alone with her. She didn't even leave a picture behind to immortalise their love, to have something to look at during those nights when his heart almost gave out, when he realised that he was starting to forget what she looked like. That he could no longer remember her voice. Now, as she looked at him, she wondered why they even started a relationship in the first place. He was attractive, sure, but nothing special. Not like the woman in the box.

He was older now, his face more wrinkled. Valeria was raised with the idea that in women, this quality had the same visual effect as decaying fruit. When Valeria looked in the mirror and saw her signs of age - the smile lines that wouldn't smooth out when her smile fell, the lines around her mouth that could not be covered by cosmetics, the wrinkles around her eyes - it reminded her of something that was starting to fade. But in men, the quality was different, more merciful. More like maturing. It enraged her to see him getting older. To see him in the exact same place that she left him. The memories attached to this place were too much to handle. Memories of her younger years kept materialising at the edge of her vision, like a trick of the light; a shadow figure that kept pursuing. It used to be her, out there in the yard. Talking with Alejandro and Rudy, passing along jokes during a long day. But right now it was just the two of them, talking with ease like she had never been there at all. And right at that moment, as she gazed down at them, the alarm went off. What a glorious opportunity to have a front-row seat to witness Alejandro's reaction once she pulled the rug from underneath his feet. There was no more time to waste. She forced herself to stop gloating at these shadows of the past and to move forward. With each step, she got closer to her wife, her sweetheart. Valeria felt weightless, she felt herself glide through the space between herself and Y/N. She would pause here and there to ensure she did not reveal herself to her enemies. At times, she stealthily murdered someone who could have easily been her roommate back when she was a cadet. But that was another lifetime, a lifetime of making the wrong friendships and choosing the wrong lovers. She wasted no time on these obstacles. At last, her hand encircled the handle of the container. She pushed her weight into it and entered, ready for anything. Be it to murder a guard, or to embrace her love; her instincts were on the front seat. She could kill a hundred men if it came to it.

“Valeria. Bienvenida.”

The metal door crashed into the threshold behind her, the echoes reverberating, she felt, for eternity. There was nothing beyond these metal walls anymore, the whole world went silent. The wrath that burned in her eyes met the hatred that dripped out of his. Darkness met darkness; loathing encircled within their dark glares like an ouroboros, its dark scales flashing where the light hit it. Valeria and Alejandro were a perfect mirror, they were tuned into the same frequency, a frequency of violence. They were built of the same clay; two destroyers meeting at last.

He was right in front of her, waiting. Standing tall and armed to the teeth, Colonel Alejandro Vargas. Her jealous ex-lover, the kidnapper of her wife, the annihilator of peace, the snake that infiltrated the garden. The evil eye incarnate. And here was she, the abandoner, the backstabber; the woman lover.

“Y/N.” Valeria spoke with steel in her voice.

“Is no longer with us, I’m afraid.” The lines of his mouth fell into a pout, feigning sadness. Mocking her. “She’s not a fighter, like you or me. You know what happens to the weak here,” he scoffed. “What was it that you used to say? That the weak exist to serve the strong and die? Yeah,” he said diabolically, a grin etching itself on his face. “That’s what happened.”

She knew he was lying; Y/N walked this earth still. She and her wife’s souls were so intertwined, Valeria would have felt it if her wife was gone. Y/N could never leave without her heart knowing. Valeria would put her hand through fire to prove her conviction.

“If I thought she was dead, I would have shot you on sight,” she said. Her hand gripped a blade tightly, willing herself to stop shaking.

Alejandro laughed. “Oh, I didn’t mean she was dead.” His gloved hands held onto his vest as he looked down at her. “I meant that your wife served me.”

Unable to contain her wrath any longer, Valeria lunged at him with a scream.

tag list: @justmare @silas-222 @m0rganit3 @blarba-girl @sleepiemain @caffeineliker @ashy-kit @00ops1e @lesvii @therapyneeds @lez-zuha @starre-eyes @7smexy7diva @hello-kitty-festival @konigmeu @cassiecasluciluce @gay-ass-country-boy @starwars-theclonewhore @bi-witch-bxtch @somnoslvt @ashthepillow @b3ns0ne  @idiotwrites @danart501 @deakyspuff @mistresssiri @angethehimbosimp

thanks for supporting me!!

[leavemetrappedinacage]

MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE

⤷ summary: You're very ill, you don't have much time left, so you ask him to spend your last moments by his side, dancing to your favorite song.

⤷ pairing: yandere!megumi fushiguro x terminally ill!fem!reader.

⤷ warnings: anguish, comfortless pain, yandere, terminal illness, kidnapping, death (reader).

⤷ notes: it's the sweetest thing you'll ever see me write, I hope you like it. :)

You muster up the courage to tell your kidnapper about your illness, you don't have long to live, and after so long without treatment, you know your time is coming. He cries and you console him, you can't imagine how hard it must be for him, you, his only love, are dying and he can't do anything to save you. You hold his face and kiss his forehead, you wipe away his tears and lean your head on his shoulder.

"I never wanted you to know until now, because I hated being stuck here, stuck with you." You're being honest, it's painful for him to hear these words, but it's the first time you've opened up to him, so he listens carefully. "But after a while, I came to like you, I think it's what they call Stockholm syndrome." You laugh, playing with your fingers, and he blinks, incredulous at your statement. "I'm not asking you for anything, and you're under no obligation to do anything for me."

"What do you want me to do?" He interrupts you and grabs your hand, your gazes meet, you blush. "I'll do anything."

"A ball." You replied. "Not with other people, just you and me." You add quickly, before he misunderstands, you can't miss this opportunity. "I've never been to a ball, and I'd like to go to one with you. With romantic music and fancy dress. I won't be able to accompany you to graduation, so consider this a foretaste."

"Oh, you're... inviting me to a ball?" Megumi blushes and covers his face with his arm, it's so adorable.

"Well, I guess so." You laugh at his reaction. "But I don't have a dress, you'll have to pick one out for me."

"I'll take care of that." He takes the liberty of coming closer, you turn your face and point to his cheek, he kisses you. "I'll take care of everything, I promise."

Over the next few weeks, he organizes the ball and buys the decorations according to the description you've given him; he doesn't let anything go wrong. He uses Gojo's card to buy a huge number of gala dresses for you to choose from, and suits for him. You spend days discussing the preparations, he brings you make-up and some jewelry, he watches various hairstyle tutorials on YouTube with you, just so he can help you when the big day arrives.

When the big day arrives, you are driven to the salon he has rented in a limousine. You're wearing a black dress with a purple gradient, there are gold details on the lace, a beautiful white gold crown with inlaid amethysts has been placed under your head, an adornment worthy of the queen of the ball. Megumi is wearing a simple black suit with a purple tie, he's completely overshadowed next to you, but it's no wonder, you're the star of the evening.

He guides you through the corridors until you reach the great hall, and you are amazed at the care and affection he has put into every detail: there are flower arrangements hanging from the pillars, a table with food and drink, the colored lights in pleasant tones without excessive glare, and of course the dance floor.

"It's so beautiful." You can't help but get emotional, you shake your face, stopping the tears from coming out. "Thank you, Megumi."

"Don't thank me yet. The evening has only just begun."

Megumi grabs your waist with one hand and entwines her fingers in yours with the other, the music starts and you're not surprised when you realize it's your favorite song, he guides you like a lord, light and subtle steps, you glide across the dance floor, the flashing colored lights and the romantic music create a welcoming atmosphere. He lets go of your waist and spins you around, your bodies separate, joined only by your intertwined hands, you circle each other with your arms outstretched as you face each other, you smile from ear to ear, it's exactly as you imagined. He's fascinated by the sparkle in your eyes, he's never seen you so happy, his heart goes pitter-patter, it's at this moment that he realizes he knows so little about you, if he'd known how happy it made you he would have danced with you more often, but now it's too late.

You see the tears streaming down his face like a waterfall, you know exactly what's going on in his head, you take the liberty of coming closer and hugging him, you pat his back as you dance, he grabs you and buries his face in the gap between your neck and shoulder, he sobs.

"My love is mine, all mine. I love, mine, mine, mine." You hum along with the song, but it's not just a song, you're opening your heart to him. "Nothing in the world is mine for free, but my love, mine, all mine, all mine." You wish you'd fallen in love with him sooner.

You dance to a few more songs before sitting down at the table, you eat, talk and laugh, you take the liberty of recording the moment on his cell phone, he makes an effort to smile in the photo, you take advantage of the distraction to kiss him, your first and only kiss, you think it's cute the way his ears turn red whenever you make a move. You dance one last time and sit down because you're tired, he tells you a few things about his past, then you understand the motivations behind the kidnapping, you tell him you don't blame him and you both fall into a comfortable silence.

The night ends and you have to go home, Megumi calls your name, but you don't answer, you're sleeping peacefully on his shoulder, or at least...

"Y/N?" He shakes you, the air escaping your lungs when he realizes you're gone. You have a smile on your face, your hand is holding his, you left with such a peaceful expression, he is relieved to have given you a little happiness in your last days. "...Good night, darling. Have sweet dreams." He kisses your forehead.

Megumi buries you with your prom dress on a beautiful tombstone, the place next to your tombstone belongs to him, and soon he will be by your side.

[thechaoticdruid]

[The Spawn Vs The Ascendant]

Astarion(s) x Tav

Plot: I made a post a while back about Ascended Astarion meeting Spawn Astarion via multiversal timeline shenanigans and legit maybe one person shared a fic with a similar premise.

So basically I was like *puts on infinity gauntlet* “Fine, I'll do it myself.”

Content Warning// 18+ for Sexual humor and suggestive themes. I legit have not been in the fanfiction business in years so go easy on me. 

Characters might be ooc. Spelling/Grammar mistakes may be present. A wee bit of blood and violence. Gale is made fun of. Tav is based heavily off my human druid Tav, Winnie and uses She/Her pronouns.//

Possible Triggers: Ascended Astarion, kidnapping, mentioned character death, possessiveness, obsession, AA touches Tav without her consent (not sexually tho), Galeshaming. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Ah, the Elfsong. There was really no better place to unwind after a long day of adventuring. And there was really nothing better to help one unwind than a favorite snack, a cold drink and lovely company. Unfortunately for Tav she'd have to wait up on the company as her beloved was currently preoccupied with his nightly grooming. Gods only know how long that man will take doing his hair. The human female rolled her eyes and brought her wine bottle to her lips taking a few swigs before biting into some cheese she'd been nibbling on prior.  Tav lounged about on their shared bed wearing nothing but a black tank and red boxers. Despite the peace and relaxation she was getting pretty bored without her love to snuggle and gossip with. Tav finished off the last few bites of cheese before she pulled out the private journal she'd been keeping since this whole adventure began. Little doodles of her partner decorated the pages along with her chicken scratch handwriting. 

She had documented details of their adventure whenever she had the chance and also took the time to add various doodles of her companions and any monsters they encountered. (Some of her favorite drawings included herself opening a bottle and releasing a spectator. And of course a lovely little drawing of her and Astarion kicking the shit out of Cazador.)

As she waited Tav began to entertain herself by writing down a to-do list.  

“Ah lets see…Yep definitely gonna have to have a chat with that pompous prick who was threatening a kid the other day. Maybe I can invite him back to the tavern later? I'm sure Star wouldn't mind having a snack.” Tav hummed, scribbling down everything she had planned out as of late.

Shit I need to do:

‘Feed rich tit to boyfriend.’ 

‘Teach Shadowheart to swim.’

‘Buy Clive a best friend.’ 

‘Murder baddies.’

‘Wildshape into a pigeon and shit on Gortash's head.’

‘Buy boyfriend cute clothes.’

‘Take Gale shopping for wizardy stuff.’

‘Look into real estate in the Underdark.’

‘Take Scratch for a walk.’

‘Kill more bad people.’

‘Contemplate licking dead spider.’

‘Be screamed at by Gale for licking dead spider.’

‘Buy flowers for Karlach and Shadowheart.’

‘Buy boyfriend more cute clothes.’

‘Study wizard stuff.’

‘Help Moon Lesbians plan wedding.’

‘Research ring of the sunwalker.’

‘Piss off the Gods……Again…’

‘Remember to take Astarion on romantic beach date before fighting the Elder Brain.’

‘Unalive people of not goodness.’

‘Shave Gale’s beard while he sleeps.’

‘Continue writing smutty novel series so I can keep buying boyfriend cute clothes.’

“Tav, a word please.” Gale appeared from around the corner. Tav groaned, annoyed by the prospect of having to get up. Especially since Gale looked like he was going to scold her for something. Begrudgingly she hopped off the bed, leaving the comfort of her room to see what in the hells that damn wizard wanted. 

“What do you need, Gale? I'm kinda in the middle of writing down my to-do list.”

“Am I inclined to believe that you've been writing erotic novels that feature Astarion and I?” The wizard inquired.

“Pfft! What in the hells gave you that idea!” Tav laughed, her eyes staring off to the side nervously as she twiddled her thumbs. Gale pulled out a red leather bound book titled ‘Blood-Mage’. It was a ridiculously smutty novel about a young handsome sorcerer named Garrett Delarous who is reluctantly forced to team up with a dastardly, but world endingly beautiful Vampire Lord in order to save the world or some shit. (The book mostly focused more on smut than plot.) Amazingly the novel had made a killing after Tav had peddled it at Sharess's Caress. It seemed nearly everyone wanted a copy.  (Tav was also pretty sure she noticed Halsin was reading the book as well.)

“My series is about a renowned sorcerer and a Vampire Lord. There's a difference, Gale.” Tav crossed her arms with a huff. 

“You can't just profit off of other people's likenesses Tav! You at least need to pay them royalties!” 

“I always give half the money I earn to Astarion.” 

“I’m talking about me!”

“I think my beloved ‘gloves of power’ were more than enough payment for you.” Tav huffed before looking off to the side with a sad look.

I miss those gloves so much.

Gale sighed in annoyance, pinching the bride of his nose. He was used to Tav’s shenanigans at this point but this was just ridiculous. Not to mention while skimming through Tav's scandalous work he noticed the sorcerer was always on the bottom during intimate scenes. The audacity!

“Besides I use the money I make from this for not only myself and Astarion, but the rest of the camp as well. Adventuring ain't cheap ya know?” 

“You can at least give me a small percentage of the profits. Say thirty percent?” 

“Ten percent.” Tav said flatly.

“Twenty percent?”

“Ten percent.” Tav repeated.

“Fine.” Gale gives in, causing the shorter of the two to smirk triumphantly. Tav watched smugly as the wizard slumped off in defeat before quickly adding another note to her to-do list.

‘Give 10% of book money to the stinky wizard.’

Tav finished off her list as she felt a pair of cool arms wrap around her form from behind, her cheeks tinting light pink. “Do you really need to take five hours in the bath?”  She hummed, turning her head to meet her partner’s crimson gaze. His hair was dry and looked rather soft and silky and he was dressed in this eccentric red silk robe with fluffy black trim.

“You can't rush art, darling.” Astarion purred before nuzzling his cheek against hers. “You know if you were getting impatient you could have joined me in the tub. I would have loved the company.” He murmured huskily.

“In these tiny ass bathtubs? I'd have to sit on your lap and even then I doubt we'd have enough room to really do anything.” Tav replied, nuzzling back against him. 

“We could still try.~” The vampire cooed.

“Tempting, but the others have whined enough about our night time activities. Apparently we're noisy.” 

“Then perhaps next time I shall have to gag you won't I?” 

“Alright! I'm ending this conversation here!” Tav said quickly, face burning up at his teasing. 

“Besides, I’ll need some sleep for tomorrow. Gortash won't kill himself, unfortunately.” Tav said with a yawn.

“Really? Now? I was hoping you'd at least cuddle with me before bed.” Astarion pouted.

“Oh you poor thing. Fine, we can cuddle till I fall asleep. Cutie.” The human female smiled sweetly before planting a kiss on her lover's cheek, receiving a content hum in response. Tav turned to pull away from the elf's embrace before suddenly feeling herself be scooped up and tossed over his shoulder.

“Hey! What did I say about picking me up!?” She whined, squirming a bit as she hung over his shoulder. “I don't like being manhandled!”

“But you're so adorable like this.~” Astarion teased, his hand gripping her ass as he carried over to the bed. Despite Tav’s complaints she did little else in protest besides pout and blush as she was whisked away. The two of them soon settled on the bed, Tav immediately nuzzling into Astarion's chest and relaxing. Astarion’s clawed fingernails found their way into her messy locks, caressing and running through them as the two snuggled together. His skin was cold to the touch, but honestly Tav actually liked it. It kinda reminded her of the cool side of her pillow. Even though there was the constant threat of death around every corner the two of them were still able to cherish their time together, and hopefully now that Astarion had been freed of his master they would continue to do so.

 There was still the tiny issue of an evil alien brain thing that could turn them into soulless squid monsters, but they'd be able to take care of that sooner or later. A part of Tav wanted to put it off as selfish and dangerous as it could be. Because as soon as they destroyed the brain, they'd destroy the only protection Astarion had against the sun. Tav wasn't about to give up on finding a way for her love to enjoy the sun, but for now she'd at least make the time he has left in it special. 

“Star….” Tav murmured aloud, her head tilting upwards to meet her partner's eyes.

“Yes dear?” He hummed.

“You know there's actually something I've been meaning to talk to you about. We've been together for a while now and well…we haven't actually had a real date….I mean I guess it's understandable considering we have to save the world and shit, but I was thinking maybe if there's time we could do something together....”  Tav bit down on her lip as she sat up on the bed. She felt nervous all of a sudden, not used to asking for stuff like this. Astarion had always been the one to initiate most of their romantic activities. The best Tav could do was a kiss on the cheek or a hug and even that had taken a while for her to get comfortable with. 

“What about all our little late night trysts? Do those not count as dates?” Astarion raised an eyebrow though his tone was playful.

“Ehh…well…rolling around in the dirt in the middle of nowhere isn't exactly what I'd call a date.” Tav said awkwardly, earning a chuckle from her vampire. 

“I suppose you're right. We've never really had any bonding time without you being pinned underneath me.” He joked before quickly clearing his throat and finally trying to be serious. “What do you have in mind, darling?”

“I just want to take you out somewhere…We could go out to eat or just walk in the park….” The human female twiddled her thumbs as she trailed off, feeling butterflies in her stomach. “I'd be up for anything really as long as I'm with you.” 

“I…would like that very much, my love.” Astarion cupped her cheek, his eyes soft and full of affection.  He pulled her into a sweet chaste kiss, allowing her to return it before she pulled back and rested his forehead against hers.

Thudd!

Tav quickly pulled back from Astarion's embrace as she heard a noise. She looked around frantically for the sound.

“Tav? Is something wrong?” Astarion asked.

“I just heard something…” She said before suddenly her eyes landed at the window near their bed.  On the opposite side of the window seat a small white bat could be seen looking through the glass. Its little red eyes stared at the human with an intense gaze. “It's a bat.” Tav pointed towards the window. Astarion looked over at the little creature before internally groaning.

 No. She better not even think about it!  

The bat blinked, looking at Tav a few times before curling its left wing against its body. 

“I think its wing is injured!” Tav exclaimed with concern.

“Ugh leave it! We've taken in enough stray beasts!” Astarion scoffed, but Tav immediately ignored him, rushing over to the window. 

“Tav! Don't! It probably has some horrible disease or something!”

Tav quickly opened the window, her eyes going soft as she looked down at the small animal. She moved to scoop it up into her arms but before she could the bat simply fell back. 

“Shit!” She shouted. 

“Thank the gods, it's dead. Now come back to bed, darling.” Astarion said, patting the spot besides him. Tav just glared at him silently before suddenly she wildshaped into a raven and flew out the window.

~•~•~•~•~

While Tav didn't preach about nature 24/7 like Halsin did she was still just as much of a druid as he was and couldn't bear to stay by while an injured animal was in need. (Much to her lover's dismay.)  She'd flown out the window of their room and circled around looking for the little bat. 

There was no sign of the winged beast anywhere near the elfsong, but at least that was a sign it likely hadn't fallen to its death. Tav kept searching, eventually straying further from the tavern until she was forced to land and give her wings a breather, returning back to her human form.  

“Dammit it's so dark I can't tell where I am. Everything looks different at night.” Her eyes strained as she struggled to make out any familiarity. Despite having lived in Baldur's Gate for about ten years Tav had always made it a point not to roam about at night. Her lack of dark vision made night time prowling even more dangerous, especially in this city.

She decided to reserve her strength instead of wild-shaping again. From what she could make out in the dark she'd found herself in one of the back alleys. Tav kept stumbling around in the dark for a while until at last she began to consider heading back. The bat likely wasn't dead since she had seen no hair or hide of it and she really wasn't in the mood to find herself in trouble. It constantly seemed to follow Tav these days it seemed. Last time she wandered around the city by herself she got into a fist fight with some stuck up noble lady who had referred to her as ‘a fat ugly little boy’. (The others were not happy about sneaking her out of prison that day.)

Just as Tav was about to assume the form of a beast fit for the night she noticed some light up ahead. The graveyard had been illuminated by a couple of lanterns. Tav approached hoping it would help her map out her way back if she just remembered how to get to the Elfsong from there. However as soon as she got close to the light someone was waiting for her. 

“Astarion?” Tav called out as her silver haired lover stepped out of the darkness. She expected nagging, and complaining about having to come out here looking for her, but instead Astarion just stared at her intensely as if studying every detail of her face. “Are you okay?” She asked with concern. Something was very strange about this. Astarion being quiet for long was never a good sign. Tav scanned him over, almost immediately noting his elegant attire. A black and red suit with silver bats embroidered on it. Odd. Tav had never seen him wear this outfit before. And he was always quick to show off any new clothes to her, seeking her praise. Astarion moved towards her quickly and out of nowhere pulled her into a crushing hug. 

“Yes of course. I was just worried about you, my sweet.” His grip on her was almost uncomfortably tight, as if he was holding onto her for dear life. 

“I haven't been gone that long….” Tav stiffened. There was an abnormal warmth to his body. Sure he was able to raise his temperature after feeding, but there was hardly a decent supply of beasties for him to nibble on in this city, not to mention he would have had to have found one pretty damn fast before seeking her out.  

“You’ve always been such a brave little thing, haven't you?” He let out a chuckle, his grip on her didn’t falter. His tone didn't seem threatening, but one thing for sure set off an alarm in her.

Thump-thump. 

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

Tav immediately ripped herself away from him and took a few steps back, her eyes glaring daggers.  “Who the hells are you?” She snapped. 

“Whatever, ever do you mean, pet?” His voice was full of false innocence, it reminded her a lot of how Astarion would often speak whenever accusations were hurled at him, but this person was definitely not her lover. 

Tav’s first instinct was to assume he'd probably been one of the shape-changers they'd been attacked by in the past, but there was this gnawing gut feeling that this time was different. 

“Drop the act. I've already met enough shit heads running around wearing someone else's face. Who are you really?”

“I’m Astarion. Really dear, I'm disappointed you have so little faith in me that you'd think I'd allow some lowly shape-changers near you.” He took a few steps forward. 

“Stay away from me…” Tav growled out through gritted teeth. Damnit. She didn't have any weapons and was literally in her sleepwear. 

“You seem tired, love. Perhaps we should head back so you can get some rest?” He extended his hand towards her.  Tav was about to say something else before suddenly an arrow came out of nowhere, nearly hitting the Astarion look alike in the shoulder. He was able to dodge just in the nick of time.  Tav gasped in surprise before quickly turning back to see another…. Astarion?

The two looked identical aside from their clothing. The imposter was wearing his elegant suit and the other one (whom Tav hoped to the gods was actually him) was wearing a familiar red and black doublet. 

“Hells teeth.” Astarion spoke up as he looked over at the two.  Tav immediately sniffed air around the second Astarion. The tiniest whiff of death hit her senses and immediately she ran over to him. 

“Star!” Tav was by his side in an instant. His arm quickly looped around her hip protectively before he scanned over her face. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, receiving a nod in response.  Astarion then looked over towards his look alike. “My, aren't you just beautiful? I must admit I'm quite flattered you chose to imitate me.” 

“Is that what you think of me? I'm hurt.” The other vampire laughed. “I am no mere imitation. I am you…..well a better you.” 

“You're not making any sense!” Tav hissed, her jaw clenching as she suppressed the urge to let out an animal-like growl.  

“Allow me to shed some light on it then. I come from a reality where instead of choosing to remain weak and pathetic we became who we always wanted to be.”  Tav's eyes widened at the revelation, though she was still debating whether or not to believe all this madness. Of course she'd been to hells, the shadowfell and even fought a god so maybe this wasn't too far fetched.

“The Vampire Ascendant.”

“If you're telling the truth then why are you here? You have everything you want don't you?” The vampire spawn quirked an eyebrow. Meanwhile the Ascendant’s face suddenly turned cold. He almost looked sad. 

“I did. Wealth, power, pleasure, everything I could ever dream of. I was on the cusp of dominating the entirety of the sword coast. Everything was mine. But none of it mattered without the one thing I cherished most. My beloved consort. My Tav.” His eyes suddenly locked into the human female. She felt small, cornered, like a rat caught between a cat’s paws. “He was taken from me…” 

Tav stiffened, taking a step back. She really did not like where this was going. Her lover kept a gentle hold on her, staying between her and the other vampire.

“And now you're here to take my Tav I presume?” Astarion scoffed, “you obviously didn't care very much about yours then if you're already looking for a replacement.” 

“HE WAS EVERYTHING TO ME!” Before Tav could think her lover was knocked off his feet. A punch had come at him faster than he could react. The Ascendant stood over him, shaking with anger. Tav moved over towards the vampire spawn as quickly as she could, checking him out. He seemed alright, albeit a little winded, possibly bruised. Astarion huffed, getting back to his feet. Tav was quick to cast cure wounds on him to help perk him back up.  

The Ascendant took in a breath, regaining his composure. While the spawn swiftly tossed Tav a spare dagger from his pack. A fight was likely inevitable now. 

“I’ve searched across thousands of timelines. None of these pathetic excuses for adventurers came even close to my beloved. That is…until I found you of course…” The vampire lord pointed a clawed finger at the druid.  “You're the only one who resembles him in the slightest, albeit you are a bit more…voluptuous than he was.” He chuckled a bit. 

“Okay hold on a minute! You can't just come here and take someone else’s Tav because you lost yours!” Tav pointed her dagger shakily towards him.

“My dear, I don't think you understand. I am the Vampire Ascendant. I can take whatever I want!”

“I don't care if you're the fucking god of gnomes I'm not going anywhere with you. I have my own Astarion.” Tav gripped the blade tightly while her free hand prepared to cast a spell.

“I had hoped you'd come quietly, but it seems we'll have to do this the hard way.” With a flash of pink light Tav was hit with a sleeping spell and fell to the ground unconscious. Her dagger dropped to the ground with a clatter. The spawn was quick to move in front of Tav taking out his rapier and aiming a swipe at the other vampire. 

The Ascendant stepped back just as the thin slender blade nicked a cut across his attire, just barely missing his flesh. The spawn took another swing at him, nicking his side and gaining a kick to the ribs in return. The spawn huffed, quickly recovering before moving in for another attack.

However the Ascendant’s clawed hand struck first, slashing through the armor surrounding the Astarion's shoulder and slicing his flesh. The spawn cried out and gripped his arm as his counterpart smirked smugly, bringing his finger up to his lips and basically tasting his own blood. 

“Mmm…Delicious.~” He purred. The Ascendant’s crimson eyes trailed over towards Tav before beginning to glow red. “To me, now.” He said as if issuing a command to unseen soldiers.

Within seconds two oddly familiar figures appeared out of mist. A sickly pale looking Halsin and Shadowheart, both with glowing red orbs for eyes.  

“Gods below. You've turned your own friends into spawn!?” Astarion gasped, his face full of disgust. 

“Eh…I wouldn't exactly call them friends…. Though they are much more compliant this way.” The vampire lord replied with a toothy grin. The spawn felt sick to his stomach. To think he could have ended up this way.  

“Take care of my inferior self, would you darlings? I have places to be…” The Ascendant gave a small wave before quickly scooping the unconscious Tav up in his arms. 

“Yes master.” The undead Shadowheart and Halsin replied, a bright red light shone around their bodies as they were compelled to attack. 

“Farewell beautiful.” The vampire lord gave his spawn self a wink before quickly vanishing into mist, taking Tav along with him.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Astarion….” Tav muttered tossing and turning in her sleep as she slowly began to come to. She shot up in a cold sweat, her heart pounding.

“Ugh…That was a terrible dream. Star you wouldn't believe…” Tav went silent as her eyes scanned her surroundings. It in fact was not a dream. 

“Oh gods damnit.” She huffed.

 Tav was in a large elegant looking bedroom, lying upon a purple queen size bed adorned with fine silk sheets. Maroon red walls surrounded her and were decorated nicely by paintings and other fine wall decor.  The first thing the druid noticed after taking in her surroundings was the pressure around her neck. Her hands quickly reached for her throat feeling what seemed like a tight choker of some kind. She quickly hopped off the bed and looked into the mirror of a nearby vanity that sat west of the bed. “Fucking hells.” She breathed out as her eyes laid upon a black and red collar adorning her neck. There was this unnerving glow surrounding the collar. Most likely some kind of magic was placed on it. Quickly she curled her fingers preparing to use a spell in order to tear this damn thing off of her, but nothing happened. 

This thing must be silencing my casting somehow.

Tav for a moment before forming an idea. She could probably wildshape into something small and squeeze out. Maybe. The druid sighed before getting on all fours preparing to transform into a rat. She let out a grunt, but nothing happened. 

“Oh fuck you!” She shouted before rolling and desperately trying to yank the collar off.

 Tav growled and pulled on the neck piece, yanking as hard as she could, resorting to gnawing on it. 

Knock knock.

The druid immediately ceased her actions at the sound of the door. A shiver went down her spine at the thought of it being that so-called ‘Vampire Ascendant’ again.  Her eyes flickered around the room before she took hold of a candle stick and stood next to the door, back pressed against the wall. 

The door creaked open and a small figure walked inside. Tav prepared herself to strike down whoever had entered, but froze upon seeing the person. It was a small blonde haired half-elf woman, dressed in a house keeper's attire. 

Tav quickly looked into her eyes, letting out a sigh of relief as she noticed they were blue. She set the candlestick down on the vanity and looked at the half-elf curiously. “Who are you?” She asked.

“My name is Abigail, milady. The master sent me to help you get dressed and make sure you come see him.” The small woman piped up in a small soft voice.  Abigail was petite and quite short, probably about an inch or two shorter than Tav was, though the druid estimated the half elf was probably around the same age as she was…well physically anyway. With elves you could really never tell. 

“And exactly where am I?” Tav crossed her arms. 

“The Crimson palace milady. My lord has taken up residence here while he stays in your realm.” Abigail replied before scurrying across the room, towards a closet. “It'd be best not to keep him waiting, my lady.” The half-elf rummaged around through the closet before taking a couple of different outfits to choose from and spreading them out over the bed. “My apologies if you'd prefer a dress, but this is all we could bring with us from our world.” 

Tav blushed a bit in embarrassment as she realized she was still only wearing a tank and boxers. She looked over at the bed and took note of the three suits that laid out in front of her. 

“These belonged to Master Tav. Master Astarion said they'd likely fit you, my lady.” 

“Now hold on, I have questions! How did you all get here, and what is this thing!?” Tav demanded as she tugged on her collar once again.

“I'm sorry I can say no more. Please miss, just get dressed.” Abigail pleaded,a hint of fear was in her tone. Tav was hesitant, but begrudgingly she slipped off her tank before sliding into one of the suits, a red one that felt a little snug on her, but actually not by much. The only issue being that she couldn't get the top three buttons of the white undershirt that went with it to button.  It left her cleavage slightly exposed. Her eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Okay, I'm ready.” She said, Abigail nodded and began to lead the druid out of the room. 

Perhaps this was her chance? She could make a break for it on their way out! Tav braced herself to bolt only to be met with a shockingly familiar face as she exited the room. Lae'zel.  Or well a vampire spawn that looked completely identical to her githyanki companion aside from a pair of glowing red. 

“Dear gods, Lae'zel, what happened to you? Did Astarion do this?” Tav gasped in shock. 

 “She's not your Lae'zel, milady.” Abigail spoke up.

“I was told to make sure the master’s new pet came quietly, not to answer questions.” Lae’zel simply replied.

“Come on, let's go.” Abigail took hold of Tav’s arm, giving her a gentle smile before tugging her along. Lae'zel quietly followed, a seemingly permanent scowl on her face as she watched Tav's every move, almost daring her to run for it.

The three walked down a long corridor for what seemed like hours. The sound of footsteps along with her own heartbeat seemed to be the only thing Tav could process as a gnawing anxiety set in. Her chest tightened, her throat felt dry and she could feel this nervous pain dancing across her spine. She wasn't sure why but something about this other Astarion scared her. This Vampire Ascendant.  She had never been afraid of her beloved spawn, hells she wasn't even afraid of Cazador or any other vampire she had come across on their journey, but something about her lover's counterpart made her skin crawl. 

“Well aren't you just precious?” A seductive pur tore Tav from her thoughts, forcing her to look up and realize she'd been dragged out into the ballroom. It definitely was a lot cleaner than the past time she'd been here. All the blood and wolf corpses had been dealt with.  Just how long has this other Astarion been here?  He couldn't have just started squatting here, found and kidnapped Tav, and had time to clean everything up on the same day!  The Vampire Ascendant sat upon Cazador’s old throne, looking down at Tav. His eyes trailing over her.

Tav took a deep breath before clearing her throat and trying to appear confident.

“Where is Astarion? And I mean my Astarion.” 

“You needn’t concern yourself with him any longer. You're mine now and I will give you so much more than he ever could.~” The Vampire Lord stood up and stepped towards Tav slowly. 

“I’m not your Tav. I can never be him.” The druid backed up a little, however with Lae’zel’s presence behind her she didn't have much room to retreat. She wasn't sure if reasoning with this alternate version of her lover was possible, but it was worth a shot if nothing else. However instead of listening he swiftly took her hands in his. 

“No need to be modest, my pet, you're practically like him in every way. You have his eyes, his face, the same little quirks and ticks. Granted, you're built a little different anatomically, but that's not something that ever deterred me.” Astarion moved in closer, briefly pressing his lips against her knuckles. “And now that I've found you, nothing will ever part us. Not again.” Before Tav could speak she was pulled in for another tight hug. She squirmed a bit, conflicted feelings of pity and fear were arguing back and forth in her mind as she felt him nuzzling his face into her neck. He was clearly dangerous, but he also seemed heartbroken.  He wanted anyway to have his lover back so badly he crossed time itself to see them again. Or at least someone who resembled them. 

But Tav knew deep down she wouldn't be enough to fill the void left by her counterpart. Gods, she hoped there would be a happy ending to all of this.

~•~•~•~•~•~

A little note from ChaoticDruid: I really hope it didn't suck! I haven't published a fanfic in so long >~<  This idea had just been swimming around in my brain forever I just had to get it out!  I got the idea from the PS5 launch party animation and seeing Launch Astarion and EA Astarion flirting just made me go okay but what if it was Ascended Astarion and Spawn Astarion?

I don't know if I will continue it. I have other things I wanna write and my ADD makes this stuff so freaking hard. But maybe maybe not 🤞🤞 

Part 2: LETS GOOOOOOO

[orbweaverspidergirl]

Chapter 1: one is the loneliest number that you'll ever do

summary: Jason Todd was your twin. He was your brother through thick and thin, and nothing would ever change that, but his death did. You're reminded of him every day. From his clothes you kept after his death to his ugly Robin suit that you still can't believe Bruce let him wear. Sometimes, you think you see him too. He's always in the corner of your eye when you're on patrol and you think maybe, just maybe, that he's watching over you.

A/N: The reader is now 19 in 2007. In 2004, they are 16. Jason is kidnapped by the Joker in 2005. This is in the Arkham universe, and I am unsure if this is lore accurate, but oh well.

Act 1

Gotham City

Roof of Wayne Manor 

2007

March 19

Gotham was always chilly, you thought. There was never really a hot day, only ever warm, and even then, it was only ever warm enough to wear a short shirt and pants. Jason liked the cold crisp that Gotham brought, you did once too. But you grew up and realized that Gotham’s cold was too harsh for the likes of you. 

Beer in hand, you take a sip looking up at the stars in the night sky. You look up and try to find one of the many visible planets in the sky. Venus, or at least you think it’s Venus, shines brightly and for a moment you think you’re swallowed up in the light. You wonder if Jason was surrounded by light when he died. Everyone says when you die, there’s a big bright light that swallows you whole. You hope Jason got to see the light again in that cold, dark place. 

You shakily sigh and take a gulp of the nasty thing called beer. 

“Hey, don’t you think you’ve had enough?” You look up to your older brother, Dick. You didn’t think anyone would find you up here but leave it up to the acrobatic ex-circus performer. 

“Hey,” You blink up at him and he sits beside you. Your and his feet dangle from the roof and you put your head on his shoulder. 

“You alright, birthday brat?” He whispers softly, while running his hand in soothing circles on your back. You smile at the nickname and elbow him. He lets out an oof and kicks your feet.

“If anyone’s a brat, it’s you, Dickie.” He snorts, leaning his head on top of yours. “I’m alright,” you sigh before continuing, “It’s just hard celebrating ou- my birthday without Jason.” You take another sip from the can and offer it to the man beside you. 

“No, I’ll pass. Wait, how’d you even get the beer anyways?” His eyebrows are cinched in confusion, and you laugh. 

“Stole it from Tim.” You hear him chuckle. 

“Wow, not only are you underage drinking, but you’re also stealing!” He says in faux shock. You don't call out the fact that Tim is also underage drinking.

“Gonna arrest me, officer?” You ask, a teasing tilt in your voice. 

“Oh please.” 

It’s quiet again and you close your eyes. If you weren’t dangling in the air, you think you’d be able to pass out right now. “I love you, Dick.” You wish you said it to Jason more.

“I love you more, baby bird.” 

Gotham City

Your Room

2004

???

“You’re leaving?” Your voice cracks and you feel tears already forming in your eyes. 

Dick looks guilty, “I need to leave, baby bird,” he frowns, taking your hands in his, “I-I can’t stay here anymore. Being here is- it’s exhausting. Bruce is always pissed about something and I just, I can’t do this anymore.” 

You hug him, “Have you told Jay yet?” You mumble. 

“I have. He was upset, but I mean, I would be too if I didn’t get to see this face every day.” He flashes a charming smile for flair, and you giggle. You both separate and walk out of the room together. His suitcase and bags lay right by your door in your hallway, and you frown at the thought of not seeing your eldest brother every day. 

“You’ll call every day, right?” You ask, and for a moment you feel 14 again, tugging on your mom to wake up. She never did. 

“Of course I will. Now stop worrying so much, okay?” The two of you walk down the stairs and shortly after you hear Jason running down the steps. You smile up at him and he walks up to you both. 

“About to leave without goodbye, Dickie?” You and Jason both smirk at the nickname and Dick rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, asshole.” Dick pulls Jay close and the two hug. Then he pulls you close and the three of you lean on one another in the hug. 

“I’ll miss this,” you mutter in his shoulder. You feel Jay squeeze your shoulder and Dick looks at you. 

“I will too, but I’m a phone call away, and I’ll still visit.” He smiles at both of you. 

“Have you told Babs yet?” Jason asks, arms crossed, and Dick silently marvels at how similar you both are, yet so different.

“She was the first to knowww!” Your brother cries out in a sing-songy voice, and he opens the door. 

“Should’ve kicked it open, y’know, just to piss off Bruce.” You roll your eyes at Jason’s remark and wave at him. 

“Stay safe on the road!! We love you!!” You yell and Jason slams the door shut. You deflate and throw a punch on his shoulder.

“Jay, why’d you do that! He might’ve said something back!” He winces at the punch and steps on your foot. 

“You guys would have been talking forever and besides I have a better idea at sending him off.” You raise a confused eyebrow, and he smirks evilly. 

“I say we suit up and follow his car.” Your eyes light up at the idea. 

“I bet I can get to the Batcave firsttt!” You start to run out of the living room and Jason chases you down. Your laughter echoes in the hallways and the sadness from Dick leaving is replaced with a feeling of melancholy. 

You just hope Dick is happy. 

[stra-tek]

Lots and lots of random spoilerific things about Star Trek comics

Gold Key's old run was written by people who had never actually seen the show. Later they involved fans like Doug Drexler to make things a bit more authentic

This however made them, IMHO, amazing

Blond scotty. Wearing green.

Voodoo planet, with papier mache versions of Earth landmarks which, when blasted with a death ray, cause the real ones to collapse

Spock learns voodoo to combat this threat

The Enterprise completely razes a planet of hostile plant spore things. Like full on extermination of all life

There's a locked room on deck 7 full of evil Vulcan spirits. A yeoman blunders in and all hell breaks loose

Kirk doesn't know what a god damn black hole is

Spock is kidnapped by aliens, has their entire knowledge downloaded into his brain which makes him into a bobblehead for awhile

The Enterprise is briefly taken from Kirk and given to Captain Zarlo, who is a total bellend

Spock forgets to have pointed ears sometimes

The old UK newspaper comic strips were even worse. The first few issues feature "Captain Kurt" and he wears a red shirt. Bailey is also a lead character, giving away which one episode they had knowledge of

Depictions of the Enterprise in their very first strip will shock and horrify you, but after that the art becomes amazing and maintains a very high standard

Marvel did a series following The Motion Picture, and it was a vast improvement, although they technically had rights to the movie and not the series, which led to a little weirdness. Tons of references still were snuck in, though

There's a series of Book and Records, which you can listen to on YouTube and are goofy fun. The Enterprise desperately needs a meal in the art, though.

They draw Romulans as green wizards

They didn't have the rights to Nichelle Nichols or George Takei's likenesses, so get ready for White Uhura and Black Sulu!

They didn't have the rights to The Animated Series either, so M'Ress is a human with weird face paint and Arex is substituted for just some guy

There's an unlicensed Chinese adaptation of The Motion Picture's novelisation (made with zero prior knowledge of Star Trek), which features an all-star cast like O.J. Simpson as Decker and James Brolin as Kirk. It's called The Star Trek, which is a better name than The Motion Picture, IMHO.

DC comics' first run is considered some of the best Trek ever. They're made with love and a deep knowledge of the source material

You know how Star Trek III takes place right after II? WRONG. It was several months later and the crew (with Saavik taking over from Spock) had tons of adventures in the interim. It just seemed like it was right after😂

Before Worf and long long before Ash Tyler, Kirk had a Klingon on his crew

He was a cowardly Klingon named Konom who fled the Empire

He fell in love with a human woman named Bryce

They adopted an albino Klingon/human child with dwarfism which they named Bernie

Kirk has an unhinged, insubordinate crewman on board named Bearclaw and they hate each other

Tension escalates and eventually there's a stabbing

Sulu/M'Ress happens and I don't think people knew what furrys were in the 80's

You know how Spock comes back at the end of III but isn't his old self until the end of Star Trek IV? WRONG AGAIN. He came back just fine, and lost his marbles following an incident months later that just happened to line everything up to make it all seem like it was right after.

After STIII, Kirk becomes captain of the U.S.S. Excelsior NX-2000 and Spock becomes captain of the U.S.S. Surak. We get a few issues exclusively focusing on Spock's ship and his band of merry weirdos.

The U.S.S. Surak keeps changing design, starting off as a sort of Oberth-class ship, then randomly becoming an Excelsior-class ship and finally ending as the warp sled shuttlecraft from The Motion Picture

The Surak's crew include a giant chicken man, a Vulcan hating racist lady and a balding man with a bicycle

They all die horribly and a massive reset button is pressed so everyone is exactly where they were at the end of Star Trek III

In order to make that work they had to bs that the Klingon Bird of Prey was hidden in Excelsior's shuttlebay all this time despite it being way, way too big for that

There's a full on mirror universe invasion

Kirk becomes a celebrity from saving the galaxy all the time

Mr. Arex comes back and becomes chief of security but doesn't really do much

HORTA CREWMEMBER. It's as amazing as it sounds

The first Next Generation comic miniseries was made with knowledge of the first 2 or 3 TNG episodes and nothing else

Everyone is hench as fuck. Picard has washboard abs and bulging muscles

Data is emotional and Troi feels the emotions she senses a la "Encounter at Farpoint"

Wesley is drawn as if he's 10

The B-shift con and ops team are a husband and wife who wear caped superhero versions of Starfleet uniforms with bare legs.

They argue. A lot.

The crew meet an alien Santa Claus and Q loses his powers years before "Deja Q"

The whole Q Continuum visits the Enterprise and they're all John De Lancie but in Starfleet uniforms of every colour under the sun.

After that initial miniseries, the Next Gen crew lose a lot of their muscle mass and start resembling their on screen counterparts a lot better

Picard had a brother who fell down a hole and died as a child. Q offers to rewrite history so he doesn't die. Claude Picard grew up to be Space Superhitler and turns Starfleet and the Federation fascist.

Before all this Q turned Jean-Luc into a goat for the lolz

Marvel's The Early Voyages was very literally Strange New Worlds before Strange New Worlds.

They have a pyrokinetic security officer named Nano and he's awesome

Marvel lost the Trek license quite suddenly, and so the series ends on a cliffhanger where Admiral April is up to something iffy.

Marvel did a Starfleet Academy series featuring Nog and its utterly fantastic

A female Andorian cadet tries to make Nog feel at ease by greeting him in the nude, but Nog fails to take it as an innocent gesture and she immediately sends him flying across the room

Romulan agents with split personalities in Starfleet Academy!

They visit Talos IV and get help from Captain Pike, who's still alive

IDW comics did a prequel to the 2009 reboot where Picard is an ambassador, Data is captain of the Enterprise-E and Nero has hair. It was co-written by the movie writers and was considered sort of vaguely semi canon ish for a time

They originally wanted the Romulan supernova to destroy a lot more, including Earth and have Nero kill the TNG crew. It was the Star Trek Online devs that got them to scale things back because they'd have no universe left to set their game in.

Nero's ship looks like it does because after Romulus was destroyed he took it to a secret Romulan base and had it equipped with reverse-engineered Borg technology

You thought DC struggled to keep ship designs correct? IDW's comics keep using traced fan art from Google Images, and fan art (sometimes with unique ship designs) has shown up on multiple occasions as the Kelvinverse U.S.S. Enterprise

In one IDW TOS comic, the bridge is totally covered with TNG LCARS graphics.

In another, an Orion ship is a gigantic Stargate sticking out of the middle part of Battlestar Galactica.

Wanna see Kelvinverse versions of TOS episodes? That was their first comics run, picking up after the 2009 reboot movie. They start off very faithful and as the series goes on things diverge more and more

To the extent some stories have very different backstories and outcomes

We visit 2 Kelvin mirror universes and a genderswapped universe too. No, Kirk doesn't do what you're thinking.

Q visits the Kelvin Universe and brings the crew forward in time to their version of Deep Space Nine

Nero's time in Klingon prison (from the Star Trek 2009 deleted scenes) and escape is fleshed out

Nero meets V'ger.

Nero mind melds with V'ger.

V'ger turns away due to the sheer force of Nero's hatred.

I wish I was making that up.

Klingons get their hands on Narada's technology and go to war

We get a Khan backstory where the Eugenics Wars are a full on nuclear conflict and "Khan" is the title that little Noon Sing adopts when he takes power

After being revived in the 23rd century, Admiral Marcus has Khan surgically altered to look like Benedict Cumberbatch as part of his John Harrison cover identity

They did a series of shorts called Waypoint, and in the first one Geordi is captain of a future Enterprise and his crew is made up of holographic versions of Data and it's a really sweet concept (this was several years before before ST: Picard brought Data back twice)

There's a prequel series centred around Number One where nobody manages to say her name before being interrupted. If you put the bits together it seems her name was Eureka Robbins. Of course, this is long before novels and SNW made her Una Chin-Riley.

[technicallyfriendly]

I promised a while ago I would make a fanfiction rec list for lucemond, so here we go:

Star-crossed by DominaReginald

I have to say this is my all-time favourite lucemond fic. If you like the Lucerys-gets-kidnapped-instead-of-eaten-at-Storm's-End-trope, then this one is already worth a read, but what I love about this story is that it shows how the conflict really impacts lucemond's relationship, which is the focus of the plot. Much happens, of course, but the story focuses on how the war and Aemond's subsequent participation in it impacts his relationship with Lucerys. It's also very interesting how this story handles the marriage pact with the Baratheons. But really, a short summary will not do this master piece justice, so I urge you to go and read it yourself! For anyone who is hesitant due to the major character death warning: It's not the main couple, though the deaths occurring are tragic and happen to beloved characters.

the beast you've made of me by MotherMaidenCrone

I don't think anyone has walked past this amazing and beautiful fic in this fandom, but it still deserves its mention on this list as well. No other story has ever done a Team Neutral approach this well and nuanced. If you wanna see Lucerys girilboss his way through King's Landing politics and beat everyone at the Game of Thrones in a desperate bid to save his family from self-destruction, this is for you!

the tragic evolution of desire by toraophim

So I debated long and hard before I added this on because, boy, does this one make you feel stuff, and a lot of it is not great. It's an amazingly written story, and since I enjoy dark themes, I did like it a lot. Though, and this is important, the warnings are there for a reason, this dove is deader than dead. Also, none of the characters are having a good time here aside from Aegon for a time, which is why you should not read this if you are an Aegon stan. The author really turned him into a monster. If you are like me and enjoy an emotional rollercoaster with a somewhat happy ending, I say proceed with caution ;).

Set fire to the rain by baby345

This is a collection of a few short stories about lucemond. I really enjoy the writing and its variety!

Blood for Blood by GoddessofRoyalty

The way the author puts it in the summary is actually the best way to describe this fic: Aemond is not cruel, but he is also not kind (and Lucerys has both none of and all the power). And that is also how I like their dynamic. The story is told in snippets of their life together before and after the marriage, and the writing is really enjoyable!

all I had to give by monkkeyslut

This one starts out as one-sided love despite Aemond trying really hard, in his own way of course, but it's not just about their relationship but also about dealing with the aftermath of the war and the current unstable position of Lucerys due to the continued absence of an heir. This fanfiction is not only well written and a great ride, but the author also has an interesting take on Alys before we got even got introduced to her in HotD.

Office Lucemond by Avonne

This is a collection of ModernAU!Lucemond fanfiction about lucemond matching each other's freak told through the eyes of their stunned and slightly terrified coworkers and through the eyes of a very unimpressed Vharga.

Borros and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by lucerysinthesky

This is the funniest lucemond fanfiction I've ever read, which is why it gets a place on this list despite being tragically unfinished, but I have not given up hope quite yet! Maybe one day we'll get the last chapter. Still even unfinished, it is awesome, and it'll make you cry laughing, I promise. The title says it all already, and Borro's does suffer a lot while also having a full character arc and all while trying unsuccessfully not to die.

For now, I'll finish this rec list here, but there are still many more great stories out there that I haven't mentioned. Maybe I'll update it in the future or make another one for the once that I did not include here. For the ones reading this, I wish you a lot of fun reading the stories!

[simpcityy]

My Little Spawn Pt.5 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, violence, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game, mentions of blood, animal death...Uhhh...I think that is all.

Author Notes: It's very short this time and it's fully in Astarions Version. No baby Spawn for today's chapter. I have other works as well. Please check them out. Thank you! Please like and reblog if you are enjoying the series, many are loving it! Thank you all so much!

 Astarion sat on the ground watching you sleep soundly. He turns back to the book he was reading, Dhampir. So far, he wasn’t liking it so far. The history was rather cruel to him. He looks up hearing footsteps, seeing Tav walking over. “Yes?” He asked, placing the book down on his lap. Tav smiles and sits down next to him, rubbing their hand over your cheek “What are finding so far about their kind?” They asked. Astarion sighs, “So many sad and sob stories “ He sighs “ Can you believe this little one is lucky to be alive? Many are killed the moment they are born or abandoned by their mortal parents.” He closes the book. “But…that's not the case with this little one, you said it wasn’t long when Cazador took them in, it goes to show they were loved by their mother. “Tav smiles, “ What a lucky little one.” 

Astarion nods, “ We're similar in a way…their kind get hunted like mine...and much more…I need to figure out who and what happened to their mother. At least to get a background knowledge of this little spawn. “ He looks at the stars, “There is no way I am letting Cazador get them back…I don’t know what he is planning…usually…Vampires kill the young of the unholy union because they are powerful but….Cazador…I fear he has terrible plans for them.” He looks at Tav, who stayed quiet and looks at your sleeping form. “If their mother is dead? What will happen to them?” Astarion looks off in the distance, “I…I don’t know find them a family…we won’t know till we get there…we are getting way ahead of ourselves.” He mutters, there was no way he was going to take you in. You are a mini version of Cazador but he has gotten attached to you slowly and he hates it. Tav gets up, “Maybe they just need you, but taking in a child is a lot of responsibility. “ They walk off to their tent leaving the vampire spawn alone. 

Morning came and Astarion was dramatically sighing each moment he could. “What now?” Wyll sighs looking at him. Tav just kept walking, “Ignore the spawn, he just wants attention.” This only made Astarion gasp, “How dare you, none of you are concerned for our little spawn caretaker? Gale? How can we trust the boot eater with a child?” He huffs. Tav sighs “Enough, Gale is a good babysitter, it was either him or Lae’zel.” They look at him before smelling something so rotten. The group follows their leader before meeting with a man. “What’s this?” Astarion hums before growing seeing the apparel. Tav looks at the man, making conversation before seeing Astarion hand to his dagger. They gently elbow him telling him to knock it off. “No worries my friend, there is no need to worry. I am just on a mission, rather 2 missions. Be on the lookout for a spawn.” He warns. Astarion looks at Tav, “Spawn?” He looks at the Gur. “Yes, I’m looking for Astarion, I was sent to capture him and send him back to Baldur’s Gate.” Tav looks back at Astarion, worried what the second mission could be. “And your second mission? If you don’t mind me asking?” Tav was now on alert. “Ah, my friends, I can’t tell you.” He looks at them. “Enough of this, we are just putting ourselves in danger” Astarion pulls out his dagger, aiming at the throat. “What is the other mission, speak now” He glares at the Gur. “Let’s not be too rash, Astraion.” Wyll looks at him. “He’s right fangs, easy” Karlach says. “No, it can’t be you Astarion, walking in the sun? I was just asked to find a missing child.” He says. Astarion glared even more. “Seems like Cazador is even sending out Gurs…you are not getting near them.” He kills off the Gur. Tav only watches before sighing “Was that necessary?” Astarion only shrugs walking off “I’ll send in the boot muncher to replace me.” He mutters, cleaning off his dagger. No one is going near his little spawn, not even Cazador. His fear for Cazador is slowly diminishing thanks to you.