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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 2 years ago

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Dragon Pt.2

Pairing(s): Daenerys Targaryen x Assassin!Reader, implied Daario x Daenerys Targaryen

Warnings: gore, blood, rampage, slight fluff, killing

Words:5535

Summary: Daenerys is good on her promise to make you more than a bloodthirsty assassin. She truly molds you into a dragon.

Part 1

Requested by many of you but in particular @alexkolax since they gave me the prompt 😊😊

In a short amount of time, your life had changed considerably. You were now considered one of Daenerys Targaryen’s most trusted member of her small court. Drogon may have been considered Daenerys’ ‘winged shadow’ but you were her actual shadow personified. She made sure to keep you close to her at all times not just for protection but also her genuine fondness of your company.

Growing to know the Silver Queen who was once your bounty, you’d admit you felt the same fondness.

No one would deny the utter beauty of Daenerys, but it was her authentic warmth that initially broke through your mountain high walls you built around yourself. They’d been a necessary growing up with four brothers. You built those walls so that nothing may break them down. Reinforced with your blood and nightmares.

As a child you had never known such kindness in a person. The people you saw on a daily basis were always less than kind and had ulterior motives up their sleeves.

Your own father murdered your mother after your birth. She was seen as defected since she gave birth to a girl. Up until then, she’d gifted your father with strong, healthy boys that were more than willing to carry on their father’s brutality.

He should have killed you right then and there. Despite all of your father’s flaws, he never killed children. Orphan them, yes, but he wouldn’t outright murder them like he had so many others. So he was stuck with you and subjected you to the same training all your other brothers had undergone prior to your existence.

Under their strict tutelage, you learned how to walk before crawling; such was the fury of their instructions that you aimed to do everything perfectly the first time to not receive their retribution. You couldn’t afford to mess up. Throughout your childhood, you aimed to prove to your family that you were just as good as them. And in all honesty, you were. You were the one to receive the best jobs; customers asked for you specifically.

Rage often fueled their actions, ultimately making them blind to reason. Such was the folly of men. You however were level headed. Anger was an inherited trait in you that you were always able to keep at bay until you needed it. You had full control of it and coexisted with it.

Happily you used the violence that festered in your soul to protect her, any means necessary.

You yourself had located the heart of the Sons of the Harpy swarm that was like a plague in Meereen. You’d earned the respect of the older men in her service that day when you slew the handful that had been surrounding you, Daenerys and Missandei. There had been doubt in you whether or not you could hold them off. They were coming from all sides and angles, relentless attempts to try and harm either of them resulted in a loss of a life or limbs.

Drogon was the true savior of the day. Dany took her rightful place atop of Drogon’s back, but not before she pulled you up with her.

Due to your occupation, you didn’t tend to feel the sensation of fear. It was trained out of you by your eldest brother Nakillos.

Being on top of an actual dragon?

You had never known a fear of heights until Drogon took off into the sky

Dany. . . Well you had Dany to thank for saving you. She revealed that she wasn’t just tenderness and warmth, but a force to be reckoned with. When the Dothraki horde accosted the two of you, you knew that you couldn’t slay all of them and get you and Dany to safety. She held your hand though and reassured you that everything would be alright.

She took things under control from then on. And what could you say? You admired the authority that shadowed her sweet features and she truly spoke like someone who had royal blood coarsing through them.

Not once did you regret leaving your old life behind to vow your fealty to Daenerys.

For the first time in your life you actually felt worthy of something. The deadly skills you had in your itinerary could be used for a proper cause instead of mindless hunger for more victims and gold. A monster that would never be satisfied. You cared not for your own happiness or that of anyone else.

Dare you even entertain the prospect that Dany brought so much light and meaning into your life. She had you feeling sorry for your past self that she didn’t know true joy until Daenerys Targaryen offered you her bloody hand.

When thee slave masters threatened to take Meereen from her control, you were right next to Grey Worm in a prompt execution.

First you happily forced them to watch their fleets be burned by her three children. Then you retrieve the specially made dagger Dany had gifted you and dragged it across Yezzan zo Qaggaz's throat. You may have been a little too happy about eliminating her enemies. The hot blood that splashed from their necks and onto your skin livened your own blood. Never had a kill been so delicious.

This was in tribute to your Silver Goddess.

Out of habit you presented the heads of the Slave Masters to her. Her face beamed with approval and delight at your morbid gifts. Even Grey Worm had turned his face away when you started severing head from necks. It was dirty work and not a pretty sight, but something inside of you made you do it. After presenting her with the head of the man who had hired you to kill her, you unconsciously made it a habit of giving her the heads of her enemies.

You promise her to do the same of her enemies in Westeros which had her cupping your cheek in the greatest show of adoration that had you weak kneed. You could tell she wanted to do more than just hold your face, but this was all she allowed herself. Other times when she was proud of you, Daenerys would toy with the Targaryen sigil that was chained around your neck. You never took it off.

The time for Westeros was coming. All she needed was a proper fleet of ships to carry her and the rest of her loyalists. It would be the first time her Dothraki horde had ever been on the water. They remained outside of the city for now along with Daario Naharis and his band of Second Sons.

The relationship between Dany and Daario was an unspoken one but you understood the truth of Daario's longing looks as you had taken his place by Dany's side. While he may have pleasure to offer her, she still preferred you as her personal sworn sword. Maybe it helped that you were also a woman. Either way it made you feel smug that you were superior to both Daario and Jorah in that manner. She didn't even trust Tyrion Lannister as much as she trusted your opinions.

Her council was in the middle of discussing how to build up their fleet and the options that lay in front of her.

You stand by her cushioned seat. Her council room was one of comfortable familiarity with plush chairs and couches. Wine was offered by those who willingly serve her.

Next to her sat Missandei who may as well have been the Westerosi version of a lady in waiting. You liked the former slave girl. She was kind like her queen and incredibly intuitive. Possessing great knowledge of diplomacy and the workings of Essos, Missandei was a great asset to Daenerys.

Across from the three of you were the men: Daario, Grey Worm, Tyrion, and Westeros' own master of whispers: Varys.

When first encountering the dwarf and eunuch, you had nearly killed both on the spot once you learned of their origins. To you, their presence was a threat to your queen and one you would quickly eliminate. They proved themselves to Daenerys and that was enough for you.

Talk of politics always bored you to tears as you stood there, form rigid and still as you took your job very seriously.

The way Tyrion and Varys droned on though about funds and potential allies made your mind drift and your eyes fell on the large window that looked out to the city. Such boredom brought you back to when you and your brothers were called upon your father to report your monthly body count and profit.

Garros, your father and the head of your clan of assassins, hated to give you praise and would spend the rest of the conference scolding your brothers. Why was a woman doing better than them?

Outside you watch the flight of her dragons as they lazily drift through the sky above the great city of Meereen. Since being released from their prison, Rhaegal and Viserion had grown in size but didn't make the mistake like their brother Drogon of eating the flock that belonged to the city. They took their hunting party far away from the city, following their large brother as he showed them better hunting grounds.

Drogon, while still unpredictable, became more docile toward Daenerys. A new bond had been established since she had officially ridden him .

A touch to your arm jolts you back into attention.

Dany only laughs at your abrupt alertness. They men were standing to leave, giving pleasantries to one another and a nod toward you. You stiffly nod back to them and watch them leave.

"Seems like I wasn't the only one bored from their talk." Missandei chuckles and pours a glass of wine for you, your signal that it was okay to relax with them now.

Gratefully you take it from her tan hands and take a sip while sitting between them. That's where they liked you. Since saving Missandei, you had gained her absolute trust. She would even call you 'my friend' when addressing you now. You'd never had a friend before. It was nice.

"I've never been able to follow political discussions." you sigh and let both of them lean against your shoulders. When the men were gone, all three of you were able to be yourselves. You knew it was hard being a woman with immense power. You couldn't let your guard down as any sign of weakness would be taken as an opportunity for those of the opposite gender. Daenerys constantly had to put up a strong front in order to maintain her power.

Dany nods in agreement, the side of her temple presses against your shoulder as she really gets comfortable next to you. Your stomach always flutters when she does such things like that. "Yes, it's not making me look forward to ruling the Seven Kingdoms."

"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." You say, a phrase you'd once heard your father say to Nakillos.

Her hand finds your's and gives it a squeeze. She looks up at you from under her long, dark eyelashes. "The crown is not so much a burden, not with the two of you with me."

You and Missandei smile for the both of you were all to happy to serve her.

Missandei gets up and puts her glass on the table. "Well, I must get going."

"Yes, can't keep Grey Worm waiting." Dany teases her causing the poor girl to duck her head in a blush. You giggle, actually giggle, at the obviousness of her affection for the Unsullied commander.

Flustered, she leaves without confirming Daenerys' words to be true.

Still gazing from where Missandei had fled, you smile and shake your head. "I'm happy for her."

Dany's hand hadn't left your's. Instead, her small fingers weave between your own and you feel your own blush creeping up your neck. Every touch from her was scalding. In a good way. "Me too."

Defenses lowering, you close your eyes and concentrate on the gentle rhythm of Dany’s breathing. Everything she did was mesmerizing to you and damnit if you were intoxicated on the way she makes you feel.

These moments were rare where it was just the two of you. Only once when everyone left could you allow yourself to be vulnerable. You allowed yourself these small, insignificant little moments.

At least you tried telling yourself they were insignificant. Always coming up with realistic excuses to avoid the truth that you struggled to face head on.

You like how her hands fit perfectly into your own.

You like the soft, content sighs she lets out every now and then.

You even like how drowsy you got as comfort warms you.

How had you lived for so long without this feeling? It was downright nourishing to every cell in your body.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

Her question has your eyes popping open immediately and a quiet sort of panic seizes you. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked you to stay in her room for the night. Whether it was for comfort or. . . Something else. . . You always ran. You were a coward in that respect. Unable to face what you really desired and fighting the truth of your situation.

Again she looks up at you with those heartbreakingly beautiful eyes of hers. How could anyone be as gorgeous as she was? You didn’t even envy her beauty. Your own beauty had never mattered. You didn’t care what you looked like.

“Your Grace-“

She lifts her head from your shoulder with a scowl that knits her brows together. You hate when that expression is aimed toward you.. The last thing you wished was to displease her. “I told you, you don’t have to do that when it’s just the two of us.” Her hand leaves your’s and it goes up to the three-headed dragon pendant that had its home on your collarbone.

Since she released you, you’re on your feet and taking a step away from the couch. Pressing your lips in a straight line, you take her in. A storm of emotions plays out on her round face. “Dany,” you say softly and watch her become a puddle from you using her nickname “I don’t think that would be proper. I can go get Daari-“

You don’t finish as she stands. “Never mind. You’re dismissed.” She hastily says while turning her back to you. Her meticulous braids having held up all through her tenuous day. You’d spotted the red tips of her ears when she’d turned away from you. You hate yourself for doing that to her.

But her affections were misplaced, you were unworthy of her love.

For that’s how you both felt. You knew. You knew you were hopelessly in love with her. And Daenerys, for some odd reason, returned it tenfold. She showed you in every way possible. Daario was an infrequent guest in her bed now, had been for weeks now. Only on the nights when you turned down her offer did you spy Daario the following morning leaving her room.

Being the ever obedient servant, bow and practically leap at the opportunity to run to the door.

What a coward you were.

You stay on the other side for a while, back pressed against the council room.

You hated yourself as your cheeks burn along with your eyes. You wanted to cry, how pathetic was that? You hadn’t cried since you were a baby.

Highly sensitive ears pickup the approaching echo of footsteps. Hastily, you rub your eyes with your arm and look up to find Daario offering you a sympathetic gaze.

He inclines his head toward where he came from. “Let’s grab a drink, you and I. Yeah?”

Arrogant prick he may be, but you had to admit that you actually liked the Tyroshi. He had a charm to him, you’d give him that.

You nod. “Okay.”

“Oh just give into it already!” Daario slaps you on thee back enthusiastically once you were three drinks down. “You’re a pretty girl, she’s gorgeous, the two of you would have plenty of fun! And of course you can add me into the mix every so often.”

You snort out a laugh and shake your head. “You make it sound so easy. I’m a creature that is not used to things like love and sex. I’m not even used to physical contact but with her, she can do whatever she wants to me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Except fuck you apparently.”

Your face burns again and you know it’s not just from the drinks he poured down your throat. “I’m. . . I’m not pretty.”

“Yes you are. In a scary way. It’s sexy!”

The anxious feeling that was growing in your burst when he said that. You laugh exuberantly and Daario follows suit.

Then came back his more compassionate side that humbled him. “I only know a fraction of your past and what you’ve suffered.” When you shoot him a dubious look, Daario explains “Oh come now, even I know of you and your family. I’ve even met one of your brothers. Real twat he was.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. They’re all twats.” You comment making him chuckle in agreement.

“Comparing you from how you were when you first came here. . . I know you’re capable of love. I would have called you a monster back then. Before I got to see a peek of the real you.” You wouldn’t have considered Daario as astute as he was.

Maybe you could even consider him a friend like Missandei.

You ignore the smile that wanted freedom to be expressed on your lips. Instead you bring another drink to your lips.

“You sell yourself short. Enjoy in the pleasure our queen can give you. If it’s me you’re really worried about, don’t worry; what you and Dany have is more than lust.”

Now you were the one to roll your eyes at his ridiculousness. It was an endearing ridiculousness though. But if he could see the devotion you and Dany showed for one another, then everyone else could too. Tyrion, Varys, Missandei and maybe even Grey Worm.

“Love is the death of duty.” You murmur, eyes going dark from your turmoil. “She is my weakness. I can’t have weaknesses. You understand, right?”

Daario sighs not out of exasperation but out of melancholy. “Oh (y/n). They really did a number on you, didn’t they? No, love is what makes you stronger. It’s the fuel you reach for when you have nothing else left in the world. It’s a powerful weapon if you know how to wield it.”

You thought about what he told you long into the night until you went to bed. Your sleep was always dreamless. Preferred over having to endure more grief during unconsciousness.

Due to drinking so much the previous night, you slept far longer than you normally did. You woke up to Missandei shaking you.

Her eyes are wild, desperate even with tears unshed in her brown eyes. “She’s missing. Dany is missing.”

Your mind went blank for a moment. Her words float around in your brain before fully understanding what was going on.

Then you merely saw red. “Show me.” You knew there had to be a last known location. Security for Daenerys was of utmost importance to all of her council. It was impossible for her to go missing out of the blue.

You didn’t bother to change out of the clothes you wore the previous day. Missandei led you to her private chambers where the rest of her small council was congregated.

On her pillows was the bloody head of a lamb. Poor thing’s tongue was sticking out from the corner of its mouth. Dark eyes still open and staring blindly.

Your blood ran cold.

This was not a random abduction. It was deliberate. You knew exactly who did this.

The head of a lamb was your eldest brother’s signature. What a narcissistic dick.

You couldn’t breathe, merely staring wide eyed at it. No one had ever seen your face in such a state. It confirmed Tyrion’s worry. Powerful enemies had their queen.

Only Daario caught your gaze and really understood. He nods as you slip out the door. Missandei moves to go after you but Daario holds her back and whispers in her ear.

Furrowing her brows, Missandei watches helplessly as you make the long way ought of the pyramid and into the city. To get the answers you want, you had to go to the harbor. That’s where all rumors blossomed. Where you would get the most information.

A demon had overcome you and was now in control of your body. The only thing on your mind was finding the culprits that took your queen from under your nose. You blame yourself for not taking up her offer. Your brother would have never been able to take her if you were present.

It had to be Nakillos. If he wasn’t still in the city then he was close. You had to be quick and follow his scent.

The harbor master, while initially denying anyone with the description you gave, gave in once you showed him the savagery of your interrogation process. He only had two fingers left on his right hand before he finally caved in and told you all of what he knew. Nakillos and two other men had indeed been through the harbor.

You followed all hints. Anyone who refused to give you the information you craved was tortured until they submit to your will. You didn’t know what the members of Dany’s small council was doing, but you didn’t waste anytime in your rampage. You knew how the unsavory underworld of Essos worked. Knew all the ins and outs of even Meereen. How else could you possibly have found the nest that belonged to Sons of the Harpy.

A blood lust like this hadn’t risen in you since slaying the slave masters.

You went on a rampage as you scoured Meereen for Dany. Driven by pure rage.

By the end of the day, you’d found where your brother was staying as well several of his lackeys. You’d learned that your father had died a few months ago leaving Nakillos as sole heir to his empire which he took great advantage of.

He’d always resented you as he had been the one to bear the brunt of your father’s resentment since he was the eldest. Your father was not easy on him when you brought back better reports than him. And when you step into his makeshift lair, you see that he hasn’t changed one bit.

His face was the spitting image of your father, if not a bit younger than you last remember.

Gagged and in chains was Daenerys he glared daggers at him, unaware of the affiliation you had with this scum of the earth. They had taken over an entire building for this confrontation.

When she spots you, her lavender eyes glimmer with hope.

Nakillos leans forward with a terrible smirk. “Happy for you to finally join us.” His eyes scanned your body, drinking in the red stains on not just your clothes but also the skin of your arms. You hadn’t bothered to clean yourself up.

“I believe you have something of mine, brother.” Your words are clipped revealing the level of your patience which was none.

Dany’s eyes widen, shooting toward Nakillos whose grin only broadens.

He stands up, towering at almost seven feet. Anyone else would be scared, intimidated even. Never you though. Each step he takes toward you is a heavy thud.

“You’ve grown soft, (y/n).” He comments with a tilt of his chin. “It was quite easy to find news about you and your whereabouts. Not to mention that you’re now in league with the Targaryen cunt.”

You internally bristle at that snide remark but keep your features a void canvas. It pissed your brothers off the most when you didn’t react to their taunts.

That hadn’t changed either. His lip pulls up in a snarl.

His weapons are strung to not just his back but his hips as well. All assassins had a great arsenal of weapons no matter what the occasion.

His men seemed to close in on you so you were now stuck in a circle with your brother. Daenerys muffles words that were covered by the strip of fabric that wrapped around her head and blocked her mouth.

“You’re a fool to come here all by yourself.” Nakillos spits out while reaching behind his back to retrieve a blade from the sheath across his shoulder blades. “I’ll do what our father could never do: end you.”

In a monotone voice, you reply “You can try. Like you have so many times before.” Your own blade easily slipped from your sleeve to your hand. You too had quite the instruments hung off of your belt; some already stained with a crimson substance.

He’d been a bastard to you all your life. You would not mourn killing him.

On light feet, you sped forward; catching him off guard. Nakillos raises his arm, sword coming up to his defense. But your other hand though also wield a blade that he hadn’t seen until the last second.

You were able to slice a large chunk of his thigh and side before he slides away and begins his own onslaught.

Nakillos always favored in throwing his weight around. He did it with your three other brothers and yourself.

All of them lacked the speed and dexterity you had.

You lean way too back in an attempt to avoid the tip of his blade. Forced to complete a flip to guarantee your survival, you’re quick to block another blow from his sword. While you were confident in your own skills, Nakillos wasn’t your father’s heir for no reason.

Each of his offensive moves screamed of Garros. Like you were fighting your father instead of your brother.

He sliced at your shins then tried to slice your belly open in an upward strike with his right hand. Garros had trained all his children to use both hands with equal efficiency. It was one of the best ways to fight.

Even though it meant getting your ankle cut, you swiftly kick him in the face. Ignoring the searing pain that shot through your system. You clench your back molars to the point that they may crack under the pressure.

Nakillos is sent spiraling to the ground but he doesn’t so much as flinch. Blood trickles from his nose that he ignores to dodge you.

It was clear the both of you were equal in hand to hand combat.

You knew you had the upper hand though. Because you were fighting for her. For your Silver Goddess.

You let that quiet anger in you out of it’s cage. It stretched it’s legs before making your vision and thoughts go black.

You fed it with the blood of your brother.

Remembering every single time he was cruel to you. How he smashed your head into the ground and broke your arm when you were ten and one. Nakillos reveled in smacking you around. He even went so far as to have you train an entire day with glass in your boots.

Not realizing you were screaming until the fog in your brain cleared, you saw the damage you did already. His arms were cut up and there was a deep gash to his side that he held onto. The hand around his wound was already dripping with red.

Your own knuckles were covered in cuts varying from deep to superficial. That was the only area on your body he’d been able to scratch.

It made him furious. He let out a roar and charged. You wait until the last minute to fall off to the side and trip him with your foot.

When he fell face first into the floor, you leapt atop of his back and tried to stab deep into his spine. Nakillos however had enough strength and speed to flip himself over from underneath you.

He headbutts you right in the face.

Stars fill your vision as you tumble back. Your head was warm as you force yourself to regain your composure. In that time, Nakillos takes a swing at you that makes a large gash from shoulder to shoulder.

You feel the back of your head bounce off of the ground. At least your vision cleared for you to watch Nakillos sinks one knee on either side of your body.

He’s laughing a bit hysterically at your dazed eyes. “Did you really think it would end with me?” Nakillos smacks you across the face with the back of his hand as you struggle under him. “Even if you kill me, the others will come after you and your silver haired bitch.”

“Then I will do to them what I will do to you: I’ll kill them and present their heads to my queen on a gold platter.” You spit blood right into his eye and stab your blade into his cheek.

He howls, a horrible noise as he flings himself from you. His hands trembling to his face. The handle of your knife stuck straight out.

You didn’t waste time. Ripping a metal wire garrote from your belt, you swiftly loop it around his neck as you dance behind him. He gags before a horrible wet noise rakes from his throat. You tighten your grip and pull.

Nakillos kicks and fights against the sharp wire that was cutting into his neck. His fingers desperately dug at his muscular neck.

The others didn’t move, only watched in horror. They weren’t allowed to move due to Garros’ stupid code. One did not interrupt a fight. No matter who was winning or losing.

You grit your teeth as you viciously jerk back. It cut into arteries and veins alike producing a spray of blood to spring forth. His body is still jerking until you give the garrote one last twist.

Then all movement stopped.

Letting his body fall to the ground, you take a moment to finally get a proper breath. When you open your eyes back up they find Dany’s. Her face surprised you.

Instead of being in horror like everyone else, her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were flushed. Daenerys was breathing laboriously. Her pupils were blown out from the scene.

You take up your blade once more and get to the messy task of cutting into Nakillos’ neck; severing skin, muscle, bone and tendon. They left you to your macabre work although you didn’t miss the low murmurs.

Forced to switch out blades three times, you finally were able to lodge his head free. His skin was slippery from the red loss of his life.

You go to Dany who is smiling at you.

“Sorry I don’t have a gold plate for this one, but I hope you’ll accept it.” you get down on your knees and offer it up to her.

Her eyes were starting to fill with tears as she smiles happily down at you. Dany’s fingers brush against your stick ones when she moves to take the head from you. She tosses it aside and with both of her bloody hands on either side of your face, she kisses you.

You don’t fight back. Not this time. Daario was right. Why were you fighting? Because of fear? That was stupid.

Her lips were deliciously soft despite their hungry claim on your mouth.

Someone off in the distance clears their throat and you turn around in annoyance.

“You’ve killed your brother.”

“Clearly.” You scoff.

“Do you know what that means?” Another intervenes.

The first man takes back the conversation. “By right you are now leader of Garros’ clan. You defeated the eldest fair and square. All his money and land belong to you as well as his men.”

You wave them all off. “Split it amongst yourselves and my other brothers. I don’t care.” Quick hands already had Dany’s gag off and her bounds cut. “Just as long as none of you step foot in Meereen again.” Flicking up deadly eyes, they nod and don’t fight you as you leave to go back home.

There was arguing in the council room when you and Daenerys returned. Both of you had been quite the sight walking through the streets.

Daario was off to the side, watching them all with a bored expression before he noticed you and Dany. His eyes widen at the both of you drenched in blood but he smiled.

“We’re wasting time-“

“Where is (y/)?!”

“Are the Harpies resurfacing again?!”

Daenerys clears her throat loudly and everyone turns around. “Hello, sorry for the trouble but as you can see I am fine.”

Tyrion gawks. “The. . . The blood. . .”

“Not mine.” She’s all smiles as she brings you to her side. “But (y/n) and I will be requiring a bath. Together.” Daenerys looks at you with hopeful eyes.

This time you don’t say no.

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thoughtfulobservationcollection · 7 months ago

Text

OC 2077: Adam Jensen

Left: screenshot from Deus Ex MD. Right: CP2077

Basic Info about character

Name: Adam Jensen

Male. Caucasian.

Birth location, unknown.

Date of birth: March 9th, 1993. (yes, in 2077 he is 84, but he is heavily augmented)

Weight (prior to augmentation): 182 pounds / 82 kg; Height: 6' 3" / 1.92m.

Eye Color: Blue-Gray (original); Hair Color: Dark Brown.

Blood Type: O-Negative.

Sexuality: Straight

College education, University of Phoenix and Ferris College.

Bachelor's Degree in Criminal Justice.

Sworn officer, Detroit DMPD, 2014. (formerly)

S.W.A.T., 2018. (formerly)

Quits DMPD in 2026.

Hired by Sarif Industries 2027 (formerly)

Task Force 29 operative / Juggernaut Collective agent 2029 (formerly)

Afterlife merc around 2035+ - ongoing

Jensen is described as a "working class hero" and exhibits personality traits consistent with that mentality: dependable, resourceful, curious (in a stand-offish way), and with a streak of cynicism. Jensen's childhood and experiences with his mother Margie may have impacted his life and career decisions in that it may have inclined him to a life of service and a desire to help others.

The most prominent fixed element of Jensen's personality is that he is a loner, though he was allegedly getting better before the train attack. He undertakes missions exclusively alone and rarely displays strong emotion even towards close acquaintances. He's also stoic and maybe even a bit melancholic when expressing himself, rarely showing any emotion, be it happiness, joy, sadness or anger when speaking to others. However, a few people in Jensen's life do provoke him to more emotional reactions and his inner thoughts and monologues are highly emotional, but he keeps those emotions to himself. He retains strong affection for his ex-girlfriend Megan Reed.

Despite his emotionless appearance, Adam often displays a sarcastic, sometimes ironic, sense of humor. He is both a smoker and a drinker. Jensen's preferred beard style appears to be the "anchor beard." (from author: this one I still lack of as a mode for him).

Head canon:

Adam officially declared dead, despite his body was never found. He survived only due to his military augmentations and after a long recovery moved to the Night City to start a new life as a merc. Since he is heavily augmented with top tier military cyberwave, Adam gain reputation among the other mercs pretty quickly as highly effective.

Jensen uses alias V for public and fake id under the name Vincent to hide his true identity. Viktor Vector is a only trusted ripperdoc who knows "his inner secret" aka his real cyberware, where it came from and assure it works properly and get constant upgrade.

#cyberpunk 2077 #virtual photography #deus ex mankind divided #adam jensen #OC2077 AJ-V #deus ex #deus ex oc #cyberpunk 2077 oc

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bijoumikhawal · 2 years ago

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Thinking about perceptions of Mila again

Yes, we are told she is his housekeeper and it's implied Mila keeps his secrets and possibly has dispatched a few people or done Obsidian Order dirty work. But that doesn't mean only one of these things is true.

Is the implication of her being a bad cook and not cleaning the basement that she isn't a domestic worker? Or is it an indication of both her and Tain’s status? Tain is the head of one if 3 branches of government. His housekeeper is probably the boss of a bunch of other servants- not the one doing the cleaning, the one keeping track of the affairs of the house, hiring and firing servants, maybe personally waiting on his needs and his alone, things like that. A man like that probably has a separate cooking staff. Tolan probably isn't his head gardener and might not even work for Tain much at all, Tolan is a government contracted worker that takes charge of the upkeep of a specific section of Kardasi'or, including grounds management and sanitation.

Isn't it more interesting that Garak's class dynamic is, yes, service class, but specifically the kind of servants privileged enough to be in charge of other servants? To live in close proximity to the man they work for? Is it not a parallel to Garak himself as an Order agent of his background- of and above the people, with more in common than them than many other Order members in some ways but no ability to connect to them? Does it not tie into his early Season 7 breakdown- he is doing something for the good of Cardassia, but must harm other Cardassians to achieve it- how long has that guilt eaten at him? Was it the fact that he was doing it again after years of civilian life and on behalf of the Federation that finally made that break within him? Is it not characteristic of his alienation and how he loves Cardassia but we almost never see him in the show get along with other Cardassians? Its a position that privileges him- he never went hungry except as a punishment, he always had a place to sleep and clean clothes because otherwise it would reflect badly on his parents employer, he literally got into a prestigious school his class would otherwise bar him from- and it also is easily a position of isolation and harm long before he goes to Bamarren. Tain gets access to abuse him because of the positionality of his mother being such a close servant- and if she wasn't the housekeeper before, Tain would have put her in this position specifically to have access to Garak without it arousing suspicion. Garak himself never questions why Tain is allowed to punish him before he knows the true nature of their relationship. And I'm not even bringing up my favorite subject of Cardassian racial/ethnic politics.

And for personal extrapolation and yes more ASIT stuff; what would it say about Mila's determination for Garak to submit to his fate if she occupied the role officially as Tain’s servant, but also did the work off the books of handling certain things for the Order? Induction into the Order is explicitly an opportunity for service class people to attain status, power, and wealth. Doing the work of that on top of the legitimately very difficult work of maintaining a household- possibly MULTIPLE HOUSEHOLDS, Tain has three residences mentioned in the show, and not having the opportunity to rise above anything more than a favored servant, for a woman like Mila, is an open wound.

#Cipher talk #Ds9 #Cardassians #enabran tain #mila garak #Elim garak #I'm holding you by the face and telling you Mila can be even more fucked up and interesting if you don't try to remove her from being #Tains servant. The class dynamics make the relationships in this family more fucked up and interesting

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castellcnos · 1 year ago

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Welcome to Aurora Bay, [RICARDO CASTELLANOS]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [PEDRO PASCAL]. You must be the [FORTY THREE] year old [DIRECTOR OF PUBLIC SERVICES]. Word is you’re [INTELLIGENT] but can also be a bit [RIGID] and your favorite song is [OCEAN AVENUE BY YELLOWCARD]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [CRYSTAL COVE CONDOMINIUMS]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

TW: Affair, alcohol abuse

BASICS

Name: Ricardo Castellanos Gender/Pronouns: Cismale/He&Him Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Bisexual Age: 43 Birthdate: 28th August Occupation: Director of Public Services

ABOUT

Ricardo grew up in Dallas, Texas to a working class family. His father was an engineer while his mother prided herself on being head of the PTA at his school. Something which Ric would have rather preferred her not to be, as it made for some highly embarrassing moments, especially when he attempted his rebel phase.

In high school, he was an avid swimmer and on the track team. Despite giving off an unbothered appearance, he actually did care about his grades and was able to earn himself a scholarship to Berkeley, California. He enrolled onto the Management, Entrepreneurship, & Technology Program in hopes of one day making a name for himself, and being responsible for some change in the world.

Similar to high school, he seemed unphased about academics whilst at college and would often be found passed out around and on campus benches or barely conscious in his lectures, after too many keg competitions the night before. He became known as the party king and if you ever even suggested a get together, he would be there and probably providing the booze.

He met his college sweetheart in his third year, and they both thought it was true love. She was the only one that could out drink him, so he decided he'd marry the girl one day. And it didn't take them long, because a year after graduation, they did.

During this point, they had settled down in Aurora Bay, California, after much deliberation on finding a town that was idyllic, and could provide safety any children they chose to have to grow and thrive.

He got a job interning alongside the local government, learning everything he could in hopes of one day potentially running for mayor — simply to be on top.

However, things took a different path when several years later he was offered the role of becoming the director of public services. He didn't necessarily care too much about the botanical gardens, the parks, museums, anything else that provided joy to the people — but the money was good, and it was a step in the right direction. He'd still have some power, and he could use it to his advantage.

He wasn't a good husband, and he'd have numerous affairs. There was a time when he'd been so in love with his wife, but as the years went on, he'd grown bored and her lack of enjoyment in their relationship mirrored his, and it got to a point where they were purely just co-existing together.

However, there was still a possessiveness there. When she began coming home late herself, as he did some nights, Ric would become jealous — knowing that she'd found company, other than his desolate one.

They would argue terribly, both accusing the other of cheating and when they'd finally reached some sort of conclusion, that yes, they were both as bad as each other, they decided to file for divorce the next day.

Although he knew this was for the best, he still was saddened by the wasted years and not having someone at home waiting for him, as toxic as they were. He fell into a depression of sorts, and he'd often choose to battle his demons with a bottle of whiskey at whichever bar was willing to serve him.

He moved in with his college roommate and best friend, Ben, at Crystal Cove Condominiums, and tried to carry on as though he wasn't affected by this transition into divorcee life. But he didn't do a very good job at hiding it.

He swore to Ben that he'd only be crashing in his spare room for a month while him and his ex-wife sold their house and he found somewhere new. He paid his own way, sharing in rent and bills. But he enjoyed the company too much and before he knew it, six months had flown by and he hadn't even began researching properties to move into. He hoped Ben hadn't noticed.

@aurorabayaesthetic

#( intro. )#aurorabay.intro

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alexsfictionaddiction · 7 months ago

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Alex Recommends: July Books

It has been a month of new beginnings and hard work as I have simultaneously juggled a new full time job and a Master's dissertation. I think I am finally starting to see things take shape now which is exciting but I am concerned as to how I'm actually going to execute this huge piece of work.

My new job involves learning a lot of different systems and processes. It is quiet at the moment due to it being the summer holidays but it's actually really nice to have the space to learn things. My colleagues are all very friendly and helpful and there are some interesting things on the horizon. After such a long time out of the 'corporate' employment game, I do wonder how I'll find it when there is nothing left to learn and I am settled within the role. I have high hopes for it because it feels like the culmination of the last year of what I've been working towards. Quite scary but exciting too!

Mark is preparing to begin his first teaching role too. I'm so proud of him and delighted to announce that we're about to start our new life in a new town together. We've found a beautiful little house to rent in a pretty, charming town in the West Midlands, which is an easy commute for both of us and we're both so eager to see where this chapter takes us. So, yes it's all happening but it's all good things!

To top it off, I have some great summer reads to share with you. All of these books have the word 'summer' in the title and there's a real mix of genres to sink your teeth into. Hope you enjoy!

FICTION: The Summer Skies by Jenny Colgan.

Morag is at her happiest in the sky and she is now set to inherit the island plane service run by her grandfather. However, her boyfriend wants her to move to Dubai with him, take glamourous commercial flights and forget about the dark cold of the northern Scottish islands that are her home. But when she lands with a bump on Inchborn Island and is stranded with this season's inhabitant, ornithologist Gregor, Morag starts to question where she belongs. I have read a few Jenny Colgan books before and I love their easy, predictable plots. The Summer Skies also has the added bonus of a beautiful setting and lovely cosy scenes in a unique part of the world. The romance is an exceptionally slow burn but it felt very authentic. It is a quiet, simple story but it has a certain glow to it that will appeal to readers who want to escape for a while.

MYTHOLOGY: No Season But The Summer by Matilda Leyser.

For 9000 years, Persephone has split her year between the Earth and the Underworld. However, this spring the world is different. Roads are being laid through farmland, crops aren't growing and her mother Demeter, the goddess of the harvest is powerless to stop the devastation. Persephone finds herself joining a group of protestors while her husband is desperate to drag her back beneath the earth. I thought that this book was really interesting in its attempts to blend mythology and contemporary issues such as climate change and industrialisation. In this book, the gods have more of a spiritual than a physical presence, as they seemed to inhabit contemporary characters rather than actually appear in their true forms, giving it a magical realism slant. I thought it was an interesting look at how the modern world is encroaching on nature and the changing ways of human life. It was actually quite jumbled and confused in its delivery but I thought the idea behind it was really thought-provoking.

MIDDLE-GRADE: Summer School and Cyborgs by Steven Camden.

Jay was looking forward to his last summer before secondary school with his friends. However, they both end up having other plans and Jay is dreading the long weeks ahead. That is until he learns how fun summer camp can be! I didn't know that this is technically a sequel to Camden's book My Big Mouth but it didn't read like a sequel at all, so I'd say it's fine to read this one first. It's a quirky story about creativity and how it can really help to process big emotions and life changes. There is quite a bit of farfetched-ness to it including the existence of a monkey called Nesta. However, it's that silliness that adds to its charm. It also had an air of nostalgia for me because it is set around the time that I was Jay's age (early 2000s). The Saturday morning cartoons and the lack of gadgets took me right back to my childhood and I loved it.

YA: The Summer Switch-Off by Beth Reekles.

Luna's relationship with her first love has ended and their friends seem to be ignoring her. Rory is an artist with a social media addiction, who definitely doesn't want to do the law degree that her family want her to do. Jodie is doing really well at university but she can't remember the last time she had fun. So, they each book a holiday at a digital detox resort and none of them could have imagined what's in store. The Summer Switch-Off straddles the border of YA and New Adult well. It's sexy but not wildly so and several elements of it read very YA -the friendship dynamics, the family drama and the crushes. The cute female friendships with plenty of silliness were my favourite aspect. I really did feel like I was on holiday with these girls, so it's the ideal beach read. A very feel-good, easy book with some tension that is really quite low-stakes.

THRILLER: Bad Summer People by Emma Rosenblum.

Jen, Sam, Lauren and Jason have grown up together summering on Fire Island for decades. They host parties, play tennis and relax in the glorious sun. But this summer, a body has been found under the boardwalk and the rumour mill just won't stop spinning. Bad Summer People is full of rich people problems and unlikeable characters and I got fully addicted to their drama. I thought it was really interesting to get the viewpoints of side characters, as it highlighted how much the 'observers' or bystanders really see and the danger that they could pose. I feel like this is a definite Marmite book. If you love stories that revolve around scandal amongst the elite, this is an engaging page-turner that you'll struggle to put down.

#july books #summer books #book recommendations #recommendations #books #bookworm

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cksmart-world · 8 months ago

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SMART BOMB

The Completely Unnecessary News Analysis

By Christopher Smart

May 7, 2024

TOP 10 THINGS NOT TO SAY TO A COP AT A RIOT

10 – Love your outfit, it really brings out your eyes.

9 – Does your mother know you're out late?

8 – Come on man, this is our class project for Poly Sci.

7 – I love it when you talk dirty.

6 – Dude, can you spare a donut.

5 – We're the Rec Department. Check out our new tents.

4 – You know, they have a cure for bad breath.

3 – What's you're favorite position.

2 – Weren't you the guy who kissed Majorie Taylor Greene on the lips.

1 – And the worst thing to say to a cop at a riot: Is that a big stick or are you just glad to see me.

GOV. DeSANTIS BANS LAB MEAT, INTESTINAL FORTITUDE

“We will save our beef,” declared Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis regarding meat grown in laboratories. But saving face, well that's another story. In Florida they like to ban stuff — books, abortions, back bone. The petri dish beef ban comes on the heels of DeSantis' come-to-Jesus meeting with former President Donald Trump, where the governor demonstrated he still has a taste for buttocks — real buttocks, real big buttocks. DeSantis even told supporters he is willing to help fundraise for Trump, when he isn't busy kissing The Donald's hammies. “It’s true that Trump doesn’t forgive easily — but he does love when people show remorse for what he views as disloyalty,” said columnist Hayes Brown. “Especially when that groveling comes with dollar signs attached to it.” DeSantis joins a long list of Republicans who have surrendered to the “Man Who Would Be King:” Sens. Marco Rubio, Ted Cruz, Lindsey Graham, Tim Scott... the list goes on and on. Trump makes Republicans do what he wants by threatening and bullying, and those who cross him pay with humiliation — they must praise him as the Second Coming. The only defense is honesty and integrity — oops, looks like the Republicans banned that, too. Bummer.

BIDEN SHOULD SHOOT HIS DOG

If you've been hiding out at the animal shelter you may not know that Kristi Noem, the South Dakota governor who was on the short list to be Donald Trump's V.P., bragged in her new memoir, ”No Going Back,” that she shot her 14-month-old dog, Cricket, because he wasn't any good at pheasant hunting. He also killed some chickens. “I hated that dog,” she wrote. No Wilson, we are not making this up. She caught a bunch of grief from the liberal lame-stream media with such headlines as: “Noem shoots dog, commits political suicide.” Kinda catchy. So the ranch-girl governor doubled down on CBS's “Face the Nation,” saying President Joe Biden's dog should be shot, too, for biting Secret Service agents. He then could meet her puppy in Dog Heaven: “Commander, say hello to Cricket for me.” Haha. What a sense of humor. Some pundits suggest she included the ugly scene in her book to impress Trump with her toughness. Noem also noted putting down three horses, promising “more real, honest and politically incorrect stories that’ll have the media gasping.” Yes, Wilson, she got that part right. But the puppy-killer gambit may have backfired. Even MAGA celebs Don Jr. and Steve Bannon thought it was a little too base. Praise the lord and pass the ammunition

Post script — That's a wrap for another lovely week here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of who's using public restrooms so you don't have to. Under a new Utah law people can rat out anyone using a restroom that does not reflect their sex at birth (read trans people). They can report violations on the so-called “hotline complaint form.” Offenders could be charged with criminal trespass and fined $10,000 per violation. Continuing with the Big Brother theme: In a Time magazine interview, Donald Trump said he would not prevent states from passing and enforcing laws allowing monitoring of people's pregnancies to make sure no one gets an illegal abortion. The legislation would require pregnant women to submit to regular government exams. And you thought car inspections were intrusive. That brings us to “Abortion Tourism,” the cute expression coined by anti-abortion activists for women having to travel long distances to receive medical care — as if reproductive healthcare is some kind of a luxury vacation. Try and come up with a pithy punchline for that. Ugh.

Young people are protesting on college campuses across the nation. But the authorities don't like it. They say the First Amendment is sacred unless you've got tents. Cops in riot gear break up peaceful protests and say no fee speech when there's violence. So wake up the band, Wilson, and take us out with an anthem for the times:

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son? And where have you been, my darling young one? I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

Oh, what did you meet, my blue-eyed son? Who did you meet, my darling young one? I met a young child beside a dead pony I met a white man who walked a black dog I met a young woman whose body was burning I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow I met one man who was wounded in love I met another man who was wounded in hatred And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

And what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son? And what'll you do now, my darling young one? I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin' I'll walk to the depths of the deepest dark forest Where the people are many and their hands are all empty Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison And the executioner's face is always well hidden And I'll tell and speak it and think it and breathe it And reflect from the mountain so all souls can see it And I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin' But I'll know my song well before I start singin' And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

(It's A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall — Bob Dylan)

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thetantiger · 11 months ago

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I'm gonna copy-paste a giant analysis of Frost's character and her relationships throughout her life that I put in my discord server with my friends because I like it lol

Btw the song this analysis is about/referring to is All You Wanna Do from the SIX musical by Aimie Atkinson

Copy-pasted analysis under the cut

Okay so I actually wanted to talk about this song a bit because I think it is a remarkably fitting Frost song and here's why. I'm going to be explaining this by talking about individual sects of lyrics

Okay so the song is six minutes long and very lyric heavy so I'm just going to be referring to different parts of the song as Guys 1, 2, 3 and 4, 'cause the song goes through 4 different guys and how shitty each relationship was one after the other, and who these guys are when it comes to Frost in particular

GUY 1: It's complicated. So there's a portion of Frost's backstory that I only came up with recently and haven't been able to really weave into any plans, but it's like a vent piece for how my own mom is. Frost's parents are actually alive, and she was told they were dead when she was raised in Acherus in order to make her feel hopeless about any sort of life outside of service to Arthas. Frost's dad left a long time ago but her mother sexualized her as a teenager ("And ever since I was a child, I'd make the boys go wild") and encouraged her to pursue men inappropriately older than her as a form of fake empowerment ("He was 23, and I was 13 going on 30"). Frost was groomed to be hypersexual by her mom, in summary. And that leads us to..

GUY 2: Tucker, of course Frost (or Fauna at the time) didn't just waltz into Goldshire out of nowhere. Frost's mom (who I'm thinking to name Doelina) pressured her to pursue sex work and that led Frost straight to Tucker, because if you're being pressured into that shit (and groomed to pursue it from a young age) you don't exactly get the opportunity to double-check if where you're going is safe. Anyway, about Tucker: "Serious, stern and slow / Gets what he wants, and he won't take no" I think that's a perfect descriptor of when Tucker is actually in his element. When he's not he's shown as floundering and foolish and unserious because I try to capture that he's not some over the top, big brain megavillain, deep down (like other people like him) he's actually just a fucking idiot and a control freak. When he is in his element though (being, controlling the people around and under him) he has an iron grip on things "Spilled ink all over the parchment, my wrist was so tired / Still I came back the next day as he required" Tucker sucks at reciprocation, but he's great at manipulation! "And I know this is it / He just cares so much, this one's legit / We have a real connection / I'm sure this time is different" ...OOF.

GUY 3: Arthas (hear me out) NOT IN A SEXUAL SENSE, obviously. Frost didn't fuck Arthas motherfucking Menethil. As a matter of fact this section and the last section, at least in my own head for the purpose of how this connects to Frost, pivots from sex pretty hard and more focuses on a general sense of being used; which, if you're a Death Knight under Arthas Menethil, is a pretty unshakeable feeling! "Tall, large, Henry the Eighth / Supreme Head of the Church of England / Globally revered" "Gave me duties in court and he swears it's true / That without me, he doesn't know what he'd do" ("ah yes i love my death knights. yeah you're my favorite little pogchamp soldiers. send you to die wdym what are you talking about hahahaha") "This is the place for me / I'm finally where I'm meant to be" Frost was manipulated into believing death and pestilence and mass murder and all that was her only purpose, as most Death Knights were. Frost also has been suffering from amnesia as a result of brainrot and doesn't remember her past before Goldshire except in vague, foggy slices, but she still carries the subconscious effect of trauma and felt a general out of place feeling except in Acherus for the longest time. "With Henry, it isn't easy / His temper's short, and his mates are sleazy / Except for this one courtier"

GUY 4: Maxwell! "He's a really nice guy, just so sincere" Again, pivoting from the sex aspect of the song pretty hard, because that wasn't the problem in Frost and Max's relationship (I mean, you could make the argument that Frost values sex in a relationship greatly while Max gestures vaguely doesn't, but you'd be overestimating how much of a breaking point this was in comparison to other issues). I'd also like to explicitly state that I don't label Max and Frost's relationship as abuse in any form, or in any direction, but it was certainly toxic on both of their ends. "So sweet, makes sure that I'm okay / And we hang out loads when the King's away / This guy finally" If you were there to see the early days of Frostwell this stings. Frost and Max actually did have good chemistry, and did connect well and had a lot of fun together, and were as close and as much of a team as any of the modern ships currently are. It lured Frost into a.. sense of security. "And there's nothing more to it" And then that's the exact problem. There was nothing more to it. It was "let's hang out for 5 minutes and then I end up half-dead at your doorstep 6 weeks later." This is exactly WHEN it happens for Frost. When she loses faith. She expected this grand, cosmic epiphany.. and never got it. Eventually Frostwell just.. fell out. Flaked off into pieces one by one over a timeline of little things. And GOD that's tragic, but they simply grew to be separate people. "I thought this time was different / Why did I think he'd be different? / But it's never, ever different" Ow. "When will enough be enough?" ("When will enough [time away from me] be enough?) "Don't care if you don't please me"

And then the song ends, but Frost's romance arcs doesn't so let me talk about Fracques a bit. Frost set herself up for disappointment again in EVERY aspect. Frost realized she had feelings for Jacques when.. well, when they had sex, and she cheated on Maxwell. It felt like a break free moment of some sort of dullness that's hung over Frost her whole life, but in retrospect Frost realizes this was just built-up spite towards Maxwell for them growing apart, which she's worked on since then. She recognizes that she wasn't just magically blessed with amnesia and forgot she was engaged to Max at the time, but that she was perfectly aware of what she was doing and went with it anyway. And she did it because it felt like a punch back to a life that'd beaten her this whole time, but again, Frost realizes that landed right on Maxwell who, even if they'd grown distant and had arguments and this and that, was not at fault for like 85% of that pent up frustration and didn't deserve to be that target. BUT BACK TO JACQUES Again Frost put herself into what could've easily been an extremely dangerous situation. Imagine if Jacques had like,, any other characteristics. Take Tucker's personality and put it into Jacques's body for like a second. This could've easily been AWFUL for Frost because she convinced herself Jacques was some sort of magical key to freedom. If Jacques was manipulative, or abusive, or what have you, isolating Frost could've been ridiculously easy. She relied on him for her own self worth and sexual gratification. But then that didn't happen. Frost's repeated toxic relationships kind of built up this giant expectation of who would finally be "THE ONE." Movie-star romantic scenes of proposing in front of fireworks surrounded by roses with an orchestra in the back and all that jazz. Again, she expected some cosmic (gettit) epiphany. And then that didn't happen either. Jacques was.. sweet. And.. normal. And.. remarkably easy to talk to.

It wasn't some giant moment that solved everything, but rather a consistent, warm feeling over a longer timeline. And she felt.. happy about that? That threw her for a LOOP for a while. Frost's life has been so dramatic that she expected something to "fix" her, or for something that finally went right for her to be equally dramatic and then it wasn't. And she LIKED THAT. HUH??? She straight up didn't understand but over time she came to appreciate uneventfulness. A breath after a life of holding it. And then she struggled with feeling like she didn't deserve to have that breath. After all, she's been told all her life she was a bad person. First just general slutshaming, then abuse from Tucker specifically, and then her warcrimes as a Death Knight under Arthas, and then cheating on Max (which actually weighs on her the most, fun fact [sub-explanation is she still HELLA cares about Max and considers him a close-friend and personally believes she is responsible for some trust issues he has which may or may not be true but ANYWAY THIS IS ABOUT FRACQUES]). She's not "fit" to be somebody's other half. She's not "fit" to be married, to be someone's wife. And then Jacques wifed her up anyway. So now Frost is just kind of in this.. limbo at the moment, slowly accepting that.. maybe she's not as terrible as she thinks she is.

Anyway mega analysis of Frost over

#world of warcraft #wow oc #character analysis #tw grooming #tw csa mention #tw abuse #tw sa #god frost is such a girlfailure i love her unconditionally

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sorceresssundries · 8 days ago

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Happy Fic Moment of the Year

Share an excerpt from any fic of yours that you wrote this year, depicting a happy / fluffy / cute moment that you're proud of. Let's spread some joy for the last moments of the undeniably fucked-up year that was 2024.

I'm late to this, sorry!! A few people tagged me - @senualothbrok @mumms-the-word @roguishcat - thank you xxxx

Here is a mini-fic I wrote, which was sweet and soppy and I loved doing...

The two Mr. Dekarios were curled up on their favourite sofa in their tower, both still in their wedding robes, drunk on love, joy, and far too much wine. The warmth of the crackling fire beckoned them towards sleep, and they were so entwined they might as well have been one person. They were, really - these husbands of Waterdeep. The broken heroes who had met in dire circumstances and somehow fallen in love amidst shadow-curses and bloodstained battlegrounds. The clash of steel had been their ballad, relentless travel their courtship. Yet, by some miracle, love had settled, flourished, endured, and wrapped them into one person.

Gale had always been one for the grand gesture, for loud declarations and intricate acts of service, it was only now he was able to sink into the quiet, delicate moments he could fully understand the true depth and balance of being the other half of a person. How lucky he was, to be the other half of someone like Tav. No, he thought, correcting himself. Not someone like Tav. There was no-one else like Tav.

Before, he had believed that in order to be loved wholly, he had to chip away parts of himself and squeeze and twist into the cramped chambers of hearts he did not belong in. Tav’s heart was a welcome sanctuary, and no sacrifices or tolls were required to settle into its soft comfort. It was the place he realised he had always been working towards, and now he was there - it felt like finally coming home.

Gale raised his hand from his beloved so the new ring adorning his middle finger could catch the light. The flickering flames made the colours dance together, and the shimmer in Gale’s eyes made it look to him as though the ring was giving off its own glow. As was tradition, they had each designed a ring, which, during the ceremony, had been cut in half and the non-matching halves fused together to create their union rings. Gale was delighted with the blend of their two designs, with how different they were and yet how seamlessly they flowed into each other. Half of the ring was a simple, slim band forged from pure silver, a mythical metal said to offer protection to its wearer, and the other was intricately braided from gold and copper, resembling a beautiful autumn vine.

“Are you crying again?” Tav murmured sleepily, not raising his head from Gale’s chest.

“Not at all, Mr.Dekarios. ”Gale cleared his throat and blinked away the tears. “Just got some dust in my eye.”

“Ah, more dust is it? How strange. There seemed to be plenty of dust in the tavern as well” Tav raised his head to offer Gale a sweet kiss, before settling back down and nuzzling his face against his chest like a cat.

“Is it because of the whole incident with Lae’zel and the cake?” Tav’s voice was low and tired “Because I think she was just trying to be helpful.”

Gale smiled at the memory, “My mother spent a fortune on that cake, and she sliced through the middle of it with a steel sword.”

“She thought there may have been a Kobold in there.”

“Yes, well she also thought the priest may have been a shapeshifter, but luckily we managed to avoid that potential bloodbath. All that was in that cake was a small fortune’s worth of traditional almond sponge.”

He felt Tav’s laugh rumble against his chest “I found it very funny.”

Gale kissed the top of his head, “Well, as long as it made you laugh, my rose. I’ll forgive her.”

The day had been filled with laughter, Gale had never laughed so much in his life. He had laughed so much with Tav it became as instinctive as breathing. They had danced, and kissed (to Tara’s disgust), and smiled until their rosy cheeks ached with joy. He was alight with unfiltered happiness.

Gale let the tears spill and held Tav tighter.

Tav stirred once again, and when he kissed Gale he could taste the salty tears on his lips.

“Normally, I would tell you not to cry.” He smiled and kissed at each tear on his cheek. “But you have earned your joy, and I don’t think you should hold any of it back.”

They settled back together in gentle silence, their breathing in sync and touches reverent and loving as they held each other in comfortable bliss.

“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” Tav’s voice was just a sleep heavy whisper, barely audible over the crackle and popping of the simmering fire.

“What’s that, my love?” Gale stroked his hair, and listened as Tav’s breathing became deeper and their eyes fluttered with the weight of oncoming sleep.

“The next adventure.” Tav sighed, before slipping away to dream of his dusty-eyed husband.

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mostlikelytofangirl · 2 years ago

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(only answer if you're comfortable discussing nsfw)

You know that post about the characters' kinks (idk if you rbed it or someone else)?

I think it's mostly right about a-yao. he def would have a power kink (i was origanally sold on this by a topping from the bottom chengyao fic), but i could also imagine him enjoying some pampering in sex. the phrase 'princess treatment' comes to mind (although i think that phrase might be a spa thing).

and this complements the ships

like. imagine lxc servicing him. for once, lxc's isn't having to make choices where the options are Thing That Will Hurt People A and Thing That Will Hurt People B. JGY is getting some well deserved time not thinking about which role he has to play in the social hierarchy. it's all just cozy hours that he and JGY have squirrelled away.

nmj gets to express all his Mother hen instincts while simultaneously getting laid! he can let go off all that Important Leader BS and be soft and tender with the person he wants to take care of.

also. i know people talk abt jiang cheng being a praise-kink having sub who cries during sex (very true and not at all shameful), but i'm sure some gentle service topping would make him very happy. he's making jgy happy! a feat rarely accomplished by man. he's doing a good job even if he's the one telling jgy *he's* doing a good job. jiang cheng loves projects and 'make a-yao feel special' is the best kind of project.

then there's wrh. the perfect man to tell jgy he's perfect and make him feel pampered and special. specifically because of jgy's daddy issues. if he's at a point where he actually trusts wrh, i'm sure jgy would love this.

nhs. praising giving. likes being in charge of things that are fun. has laways kept tabs on nmj's wellbeing and would be doing the same for jgy if they were close/dating. now just apply this to the bedroom! i need'nt say more.

xue yang tho. not sure what to do with that one.

-regular anon

Hey, regular anon!! Haha sorry this took so long, I have no problem talking about nsfw stuff actually!

I don't remember the post you mention (so it probably wasn't me who reblogged it lol), but I totally agree with you!

I'm sure that JGY would normally be one great power bottom, even a mean top XD, as he absolutely has a thing for control, and I firmly believe that it comes basically from his need to feel safe: the more in charge of a situation, the safer he is. And he would enjoy that!

But I also believe that if he was to trust his partner enough, he would let himself be taken care of. Or at least it would be something that would do him good, even if he would be hesitant about letting someone else do the work for a change and being shown that he can receive without having to earn it.

And yes, it works well in the context of ships.

LXC would certainly appreciate having the worst dilemma he has to face being where to start pampering JGY xD. He's a kind and gentle person, so doing his best to shower his A-Yao in affection would be like second nature. Making a loved one feel good, what a joy!

There are not a lot of chances for NMJ to show his tender side, and he is also one to appreciate hard work and reward it accordingly, not to mention he is very protective. There's the saber spirit too, so having something else to distract him from that, making him focus on little A-Yao fully would do him well too.

With JC I think it's a situation similar to JGY in some regard, not so much about control, but about feeling fully accepted and reassured, and being a top is another way to achieve that: procuring someone pleasure, making them feel safe with him, lower their guard and trust him, seeing the effect he has on someone and being encouraged. JC is also a protective person who is fiercely devoted to the few he holds dear, caring for JGY is a sense a very personal thing bc they share so much similar baggage. Also he just likes to know he is doing a good job.

Oh, WRH. As you can imagine, this one is my favorite in this scenario bc of how much it would mean coming from him XD. Just imagine you are a smol guy who everybody looks down on and who has to continuously prove himself... and THEN you have the most imposing, powerful man caring for you, servicing you, telling you how perfect you are, how good you are... it'd be easy for him to crash you, and YET here he is, pampering you, validating you, making you feel like the most special person bc how could you not be when you have This Man telling you about how he would burn down the world for you :').

I can see it all being very playful and sweet with NHS. He is known for being a lazy guy who would normally prefer himself getting pampered, but him doing it for JGY would feel like a fun experiment, and I imagine NHS of all ppl being one JGY would trust easily (if we don't include canon ending lol). Maybe not having a lot of faith in how would NHS perform a first, but being pleasantly surprised and it's all giggles and jokes. All part of his evil plan to get JGY to relax and stop worrying about work!

OMG XY. Tbh I can only see these two having some nasty, disrespectful sex XD, JGY trusting the delinquent enough to actually be intimate with him, but XY is too much of a wild card to be fully service top imo, much less a gentle selfless one that would pamper him. It would still be a good session of catharsis tho :P.

#replies #mdzs #jin guangyao #allyao #xiyao #nieyao #chengyao #ruoyao #sangyao #xueyao #all the yao bc he deserves to be pampered and spoiled and cherished #aslo bc I like my blorbos to be bottoms precisely bc of this #bc they get to be princesses ;u;#and he could totally use some time of getting his mind blanked by pleasure and not having to worry about a thing #letting himself be serviced instead of the other way round in every other aspect of his life

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calummss · 3 years ago

Text

Time | Gilbert Blythe

masterlist

summary: time can fix a lot of things if you let it

words: 1.5K

requested by: anon

It’s been six months since Gilbert Blythe left. Six months without the boy you love so dearly. Six months without your friend. Gilbert had made short notice plans only days after his father’s funeral. When John Blythe died it felt like a never ending fog swept across Avonlea. You remember Mr. Blythe from your childhood. He was a very kind man that took good care of you, so when the news of his passing had arrived at your parent’s house you felt a heavy pit in your stomach. You were saddened by his death and couldn’t imagine what Gilbert was going through and sent him a pie the same day, knowing he would have a hard time preparing food for himself. It has been months since you attended the funeral and you remember it like it was yesterday.

‘Y/N dear, make sure to wear your black straw hat.’ your mother called up to your room.

You grabbed your hat and gently placed it on your head not wanting to mess up your curls. You took one last look in your mirror and hurried downstairs to see your father, mother and younger brother waiting for you. You quickly grabbed your shoes and tied them up.

‘I sure hope Gilbert’s okay,’ you spoke into the room feeling uneasy about the next couple of hours.

‘You’ll be able to see for yourself once we arrive.’ your mother said, adjusting your hat. She placed her hands and your shoulder and smiled.

‘Come one now, the carriage is waiting.’ your father announced and opened the door to reveal a coat of snow that painted the countryside. You stomped through the snow and sat yourself to the far left of the carriage as your mother, father and brother followed. The coachman lightly whipped the horse and you were on your way. When you arrived at the Blythe’s family burial site you saw the carriage that pulled Mr. Blythe’s casket towards the hole. You also saw Gilbert leading the line of people. You saw the pain in his eyes. His sparkly brown eyes were now dull, and glossed with his salty tears. His cheerful smile with those dimples you so loved, disappeared and weren’t to be seen. His posture was slouched and his head hanging from his shoulders on a thread. Your family and you respectfully walked up to the crowd that was gathered for a prayer in honour of his father. You saw Anne, Diana, Ruby, Jane, Tillie and Josie, all spread out throughout the crowd. You locked eyes with Anne and gave her a warm quick smile before turning away. When the service was over everyone gathered at the Gilbert House for some tea and conversation. You stood next to your mother, plate in your hands but you weren’t in the mood to eat. You set it aside and walked around the house to look for Gilbert. He probably needed someone to talk to. Once you searched around the house and almost gave up, you saw him outside in the front yard. You grabbed your coat, scarf and hat and rushed down the front steps.

‘Gilbert!’ you yelled after him.

Gilbert turned around with a surprised face, yet his eyes still carried his sadness within.

‘Are you leaving?’ you pushed your hands deeper into your pockets.

‘I can’t stand being in that house. Everyone wants to comfort me but I just want to be left alone.’ he confessed.

His hat draped over his forehead making it hard to make out his facial expression.

‘Where are you going?’ you asked him as he didn’t seem to stop walking.

‘I don’t know, the lake perhaps.’

‘May I join?’

He nodded and continued to look straight ahead.

After some time you arrived at the small lake in the forest you always went to after school in the summer. Everyone would meet up to bathe in the sun kissed water but everyone was happy and enjoying themselves. Today’s occasion was the opposite. You sat on a tree trunk and pulled your gloves from your pockets. Gilbert sat next to you and stared at the frozen water. He found comfort among the empty woods. You felt like giving him alone time and told him that you were going back to the house. That was the last time you saw Gilbert. Days after he packed his things and left on a ship. He left a note with a few details so that Avonlea wouldn’t erupt in fear of a murder or some sort.

During the first three months you would leave letters at Gilbert’s house in case he came back unannounced; just like he left, but you stopped soon after, after you realised that he wouldn’t be coming back for a long time.

You were peacefully sleeping in your bed when a loud thud awoke you. Your eyes were squinted due to the sun rays shining on your face. You got out of bed and started to get ready. Anne would be arriving any minute now. You always walked to school together. It was safer and more fun. When you rushed out of the door you saw Anne waiting on your doorsteps with an extra bottle of milk. You walked to school and noticed a large crowd gathered in front of the doors. Noticing the rest of the girl you walked up to them to ask what was going on.

‘Ruby!’ you called out and saw her spin around with a big smile on her face. ‘What’s going on?’

‘It’s Gilbert!’ she cheered loudly.

Your eyes went wide as you stared back at Anne. She had the same look painted across her face.

‘What do you mean ‘Gilbert’?

‘My uncle who works at The White Sands Hotel said that Gilbert passed through the place. Supposedly he was working on a ship!’ Ruby’s face was gleaming with joy. ‘He was covered in coal ashes.’

‘Is, Is Gilbert here? At school?’ you asked intriguingly.

‘I haven’t been inside but I don’t believe so. He’s probably at home.’ Diana chimed in.

You had to see him. You just had to. Knowing he was back and not knowing if he’d part again you ran back towards the forest. You made your way through the foggy woods and ran up to Gilbert’s house. You went up to the door and knocked on the door like your life depended on it. A few seconds later a man, whom you’ve never seen before opened the door.

‘Hello, who are you.’ he said in a strong accent.

‘Is Gilbert here?’

‘Yes, he is.’ the man smiled at you before he shouted at the top of his lungs. ‘Gilbert! There’s a girl wanting to talk to you.’

‘I’ll just come in.’ you smiled before slipping through the door.

‘Y/N?’ Gilbert sounded surprised. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘What are you doing here?’ mimicked him.

‘It’s good to see you.’

Gilbert seemed happier than the last time you saw him. His teary eyes were now filled with joy. He seemed...okay, and you didn’t want to take that away from him but he couldn’t just show up and pretend like nothing happened.

‘Why did you leave?’

Gilbert’s back stiffened and shifted onto his other leg. He looked down at the floor not making eye contact with you.

‘Can you at least look at me.’ a hint of disappointment and annoyance coating your words.

‘I needed to get away from here.’

‘You left without a goodbye and you left without telling anyone. Do you know what it feels like? To see your friend leave you behind?’ you raised your voice. ‘You could’ve at least told me. I didn’t know when you were coming back. I thought you left me!’

‘Y/N, I’m sorry but I wasn’t in a good headspace and needed distance from this god forsaken town.’ he stormed past you. The man that had answered the door was long gone. Only the presence of the two of you filled the cold house.

‘Distance from me?’

‘I never said that.’ his irritated voice erupted from the back of the pantry.

‘Sounds like it to me!’ you yelled back, angrily stomping after him.

‘Why are you picking a fight with me, Y/N.?’

‘A fight?’ you stared at him in disbelief. ‘Picking a fight with you? I came over because Ruby was swooning over your return and I came here to make sure it was true. To-see-if -my-friend-who-left-me-without-a-trace-of his-existence-came-back!’ you snapped in one breath.

You had enough and quite frankly didn’t know what to do anymore. The person you loved so dearly had hurt you in a way that you couldn’t understand. Gilbert sat down at his wooden table and stared at you for a few seconds before talking.

‘What can I do?’ he said.

‘What can you do? I don’t know, what can you?’

‘Y/N, I’m serious. I don’t want this friendship to end over this.’

‘You think I want this? I’m just upset that you left me if you hadn’t noticed.’

‘Please tell me what I can do.’ he pleaded out.

He stood up and took your hands into his. His brown eyes stared into your as your breath hitched.

‘I-I don’t know.’ you confess as you slid your hands out of his and turned your back towards him. ‘Nothing can fix this except time.’

You walked towards the door looking back at Gilbert once more.

‘Time can fix a lot of things if you let it.’

#awae #awae imagine #anne with an e #anne of green gables #anne shirley cuthbert #period drama #anne x gilbert #gilbert blythe #gilbert blythe imagine #gilbert blythe imagines #gilbert blythe blurb #gilbert blythe blurbs #gilbert blythe headcanon #gilbert blythe headcanons #gilbert blythe angst #gilbert blythe fluff #gilbert blythe x you #gilbert blythe x reader #gilbert blythe x y/n

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n00dl3gal · 3 years ago

Text

Clarence (Father-Son Bonding AU)

While @thetriggeredhappy and I were streaming, we discussed the “Bidwell and Scout being brothers” headcanon, and they mentioned it in the AU, and well... I wrote more for this in the following two days than I had the whole month prior. Also a lot of credit to @birbwell for giving Bidwell the name Clarence.

It was a long shot, Clarence knew.

Mom hadn’t been willing to disclose much about his stepfather, for understandable reasons. She was even less willing to talk about Jeremy. But Clarence, as the middle child- fourth out of eight- he remembered Jeremy. He remembered holding the baby in his arms, shortly after Mom returned from the hospital. He remembered his stepfather singing to Jeremy in French. He remembers waking up one morning with both of them gone, dead to the rest of the world.

But they weren’t dead. Mom was still getting unmarked letters. Phone calls, even. He thinks he’s even heard Jeremy’s voice.

So, yes, a long shot. But the Bidwells were kind of infamous throughout south Boston for taking long shots and sticking the landing.

Hence the application to Mann Co.

He had less personal reasons for applying, of course. As one of the largest corporations in the world, Mann Co. carried a lot of prestige with its name. The payout was excellent and would ensure his mother’s comfort. Lots of travel, too. Clarence always wanted to reenact Around The World in 40 Days. Ricky would’ve called him a nerd over that.

(God, he missed Ricky. All the more reason to make sure the baby of the bunch was safe.)

He landed the job, of course. He never really doubted it. He had the grades, the degree, the reputation that Mann Co. expected of its employees. And the desk work is easy and innocuous enough. His office is in Mannhattan, too, so he’s not terribly far from the rest of the family. Yes, he goes abroad frequently, but having a home base on the East Coast is fantastic.

The promotions come steadily through the years. More weaponry deals, more top-secret files, more codenames. Eventually, he finds himself in the highest position of power a business major like him could ever hope to be in: Saxton Hale’s personal assistant. Which does involve scheduling, phone calls, and writing memos- all things he excels at. It also requires him to serve breakfast steaks, skydive to wrestle alligators, and reverse-engineer weapons from rival manufacturers.

Clarence knew Saxton had a comic book, but he had always assumed the exploits to be fictional. Silly him.

But it’s not all bad. Turns out Clarence has a knack for customer service. He often acted as the mediator between his brothers- middle child syndrome at its finest- and was able to play a variety of roles, depending on the buyer. Perhaps he got that from his stepfather.

He never forgot his true goal. He never directly told Mom why he joined Mann Co., but Clarence was certain she knew. She was smart like that, able to discern all the things people didn’t tell you. Clarence, in turn, learned the same.

Currently, Clarence was on a plane. He had managed to convince Saxton to take a normal landing for once, citing the number of explosives being carried in the cargo bay. Reddy had already called to inform him of the latest budget changes; currently, Saxton’s meat funds would be slightly slashed to afford more shorts after a particularly ugly board meeting. Clarence shuddered at the memory. There was only one more call to expect.

“Bidwell? It’s Pauling. How are you doing?”

Right on cue.

Clarence smiled at the video call, taking in Miss Pauling’s black-and-white visage. “Just fine. You and the Administrator?”

“Doing good. She got your message, and I think she agrees- we’re going through shovels at an alarming rate. It’ll be beneficial in the long run to invest in these high-duty models,” she said.

“Fantastic. And just to clarify, these are for your, ahem, ‘personal’ use and not to be given to the Soldier?”

Miss Pauling laughed. “For how much we’re paying for them? Solly better not touch them.” Bidwell chuckled, too. He didn’t know the mercenaries well, but he heard enough from Pauling to know of their antics. “Where are you and Saxton headed to next?” “We’re about to land back in Mannhattan, why?”

Miss Pauling’s smile upturned just a fraction. “The boys are currently stationed at Doublecross, not far from you. And we recently filled the vacancies on the RED team. Maybe you could convince Saxton to come over and give them a look.” Clarence thought, stroking his chin. “If you can rile them up enough for a fight, that should be enough to entice him. Won’t arrive until late, though. We’re supposed to have a meeting when we land.” “Supposed to” were always the operative words with Saxton.

“Just call me if you plan to swing by. Anything else?”

“Ah, yes!” Clarence fished two pieces of paper out of his jacket pocket. “I managed to convince Saxton to write off this year’s Assistant’s Conference as a work expense. For both of us.”

“No WAY! How’d you manage that?” Miss Pauling’s jaw had dropped so far, Clarence was almost certain the bone had cracked.

Clarence shrugged. “Told him this year’s clipboards might be yeti-proof.”

“I owe you one, big time. Seriously. All right, I need to go. I have a few, uh, garbage bags to drive to the dump. Take care, Bidwell.” The screen went blank.

Two new mercenaries on RED, then? Clarence racked his brain, trying to remember what positions were empty. The Scout and…

The Spy.

The odds, if he was being honest, were minuscule. Less than… 2.33% repeating, if his math was correct. But it was something. He sucked in a breath between his teeth, straightened his tie, and stood. “Mr. Hale?”

. . .

“Still think that Sniper’s lying,” Saxton said, watching the brawl being broadcasted. “No self-respecting Australian would be that far from a fight! He’d be in the thick of it, cracking skulls over his knees!”

“We’ve run tests, and there’s no other ethnicity he could be,” Miss Pauling reminded him.

For the most part, Clarence tuned them out. He was laser-focused on the new recruits. Both the Spy and the Scout were slippery, though. Hard to track. He understood that for the Spy, certainly, that was part of the job description. He might’ve caught a few words in French, but in all honesty, most romance languages sounded the same to him. The Scout, though… what few glimpses Clarence got of him, he was ruthless. Systematic.

And had a grin so, so similar to Mom’s.

He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until Miss Pauling tapped his shoulder. “Are you alright, Bidwell?”

“Ah, yes, although,” he said quickly. “May I speak with the new team members? I realize that they don’t see me nearly as frequently, but I think it would be beneficial to introduce myself.” He swallowed what tasted suspiciously like bile and anxiety.

If miss Pauling was suspicious, she didn’t say anything. “I’ll let them know. Keep the cameras off, too.”

He let out the exhale he was still subconsciously holding. “That would be appreciated. Consider us even for the Conference, then.” She grinned at him, and for the first time since getting the job with Mann Co., Clarence dared to hope.

. . .

Clarence straightened his tie, glancing through the small window in the door. The Scout and Spy stood on the other side. The Scout was bouncing his leg while the Spy smoked. Very little there to work off of, but Clarence had done more with less. And he had been waiting for so long, why was he putting it off any longer?

He opened the door.

Immediately, the two men turned to look at him. The Spy’s face was mostly covered, as part of his uniform, but there was a distinct furrow in his brow as he observed Clarence. As if trying to piece a memory back together. The Scout, meanwhile- shit, those were Martin’s ears, and Henry’s freckles. Frank’s eyes. He never thought he’d see those again.

“Uh, e-excuse me,” he choked out. “I’m Mr. Hale’s personal assistant. My name is Bidwell.”

As soon as the name left his lips, the Spy straightened. “Then- Clarence?” he asked, voice quivering.

Clarence nodded, finally allowing the first few tears to fall. “Who’re you expectin’, Dad, Frank?” he joked, letting his native Boston accent slip back in. It was probably in poor taste, but Clarence can’t bring himself to care.

He finally found them.

“Whoa, whoa, what the fuck are you talkin’ about? Spy, you know this-”

The Scout sounded just as he remembered, from the meager few words he heard through Mom’s call. “Oh my God, Jeremy, it really is you-” Clarence found himself moving before he even registered it, anxious to pull his baby brother into a hug. They were only inches apart, when- “OOF!”

Within seconds, Jeremy had him pinned down on the ground, cleat securely on Clarence’s throat. His standard-issue Mann Co. pistol was pointed directly at his face. Clarence knew that they weren’t particularly damaging, but at this close range, it would be lethal. And he, unlike the mercenaries, did not have Respawn. He struggled to breathe.

“Jeremy, arrête ça! Il dit la vérité, c'est ton frère. Laisse le partir,” Marcel said, placing a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Please.”

Jeremy glanced between Clarence and Marcel, before removing his foot. Clarence took a few deep breaths before standing again. The pistol was no longer pointed in his face, but Jeremy still stood a distance away. His face was… conflicted. Angry, but uncertain. “Is he tellin’ the truth, man? That you’re my-”

Clarence nodded, rubbing his throat. “I-I think? I don’t speak French, but if he was saying we’re brothers, then yes.” He sighed. “Well. Half-brothers, at any rate. You’re-” an ugly sob crashed through Clarence’s body- “you’re my baby brother, Jeremy.” He smiled at Marcel, looking positively relieved. “You kept him safe.”

“I told Fiona I would. Oh, Clarence,” Marcel whispered, taking Clarence’s face in his hands. “I missed all of you, but you didn’t have to do this.”

“Y-you didn’t know what it was like, Marcel,” he whimpered, looking at his shoes. His crying reflection looked back at him in the shine. “Once you and Jeremy left, she never talked about you, because- because if the younger kids knew about you two, word would get out. You’d be in danger, and she knew that. So she had to act like you were dead, and like Jeremy never existed. You know what that felt like?” he yelled, daring to meet Marcel’s eyes. “To remember your youngest brother, but have to pretend it was all made up? It ate her alive, it was killin’ Frank and Thomas and Henry and me, but we had to.”

Marcel sighed, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. “Clarence…” He handed the handkerchief to Clarence, who took it wordlessly. “That’s a terrible burden for anybody to take. You didn’t have to.”

“But I had to,” he said, dabbing at his face fruitlessly. “I remembered you, Jeremy. I was only seven when you were born, but I held you in my arms. You threw up on me one time and ruined my favorite shirt,” he sobbed, staring at his brother’s face. “And after Frank, and then Ricky- I don’t think Mom’s poor heart would let her handle losing her baby, too. So-so I decided to find you. Make sure you were okay.” He exhaled sharply, cracking a feeble smile. “And you are.”

Jeremy shuffled his feet, suddenly looking very sheepish. “Um, well, that’s super touchin’ and everythin’, but… I dunno what you’re expectin’ here, man. I don’t remember you or Ma or any other brothers. ‘Course I don’t, I was a baby. As far as I’m concerned, it’s always just been me an’ Dad.” He at least has the decency to appear apologetic. “I’m sorry, I really am, but… this whole havin’ brothers thing is. Completely new to me.”

Clarence had expected it. He had anticipated it. He had prepared himself for it. But not enough, evidently, because each word is like a dagger into another part of his body. It was less Jeremy didn’t remember them and more Marcel never even bothered to bring up Jeremy’s family. At no point did he think it would be important to tell Jeremy what he had left behind, albeit involuntarily. Even when he did finally crack and introduced Jeremy to Mom, he hadn’t felt the need to bring any siblings into the mix. Did Marcel even know what happened to Frank? What happened to Ricky? How responsible Clarence was for that?

Did he give a shit about his stepsons at all?

Jeremy leaned against the wall, pulling off his hat to run a hand through his hair. The hair was closer in color to Marcel’s than any of his siblings. “Still, gotta admit, having brothers would be kinda cool. Would’ve made those long car trips with Dad busy more entertainin’, at least.”

“I gave you plenty of homework to keep you occupied, Jeremy.”

“Dad, no nine-year-old wants to do homework while on the run.” He punched Marcel on the shoulder. “Hey, but now I know my last name!”

“You know your mother’s married name, from her first husband. Her maiden name was Mulligan.”

Jeremy burst out laughing. “Fiona Mulligan? From Boston? I swear to God if she had red hair too-”

Clarence’s eyes watered again. The rapport between Jeremy and Marcel was so natural, so familiar. His own father passed away in a car crash when he was two, a mere three months after Daniel’s birth. She never remarried. The only father he ever had was Marcel, and those visits were infrequent… until they stopped altogether.

“Um. Clarence, right?” Jeremy called. Clarence quickly blinked away any tears; at some point, their speech transformed into white noise. “So, you an’ Ma an’ my other brothers- that’s gonna take some gettin’ used to- do you guys have a house?”

“Yes?” he answered, somewhat dazedly. “In Boston. There, um, there were a few winters where we didn’t have heat, and we were nearly evicted once, and we had to share three bedrooms between all of us-”

Jeremy looked at him pointedly. “But you had a house. A home.” He wrapped his arms around his stomach. “Somewhere that, no matter what happened, you could return to.” Clarence nodded, not entirely sure how to respond. Jeremy laughed ruefully. “Shit, that musta been nice.”

Oh.

Suddenly, Marcel’s actions made sense. He was a spy. A man constantly switching identities, finding new places to hide. And he had a baby with him. A child with no concept of secrecy, of behavior, of morality. Marcel had to balance his job and his offspring in equal measure. The best way to do that would be to essentially erase Jeremy’s history. Delete any ties he might have beyond his father. Thus, Jeremy would grow constantly on the move, without any bonds to tie him down. The two of them would be alone.

Clarence couldn't imagine growing up without his brothers.

“That must’ve sucked,” he said out loud, not entirely aware he was doing so.

Jeremy nodded, looking a bit less spiteful. “I bet ya had friends, too, and went to birthday parties and had holidays together and- shit, I’m jealous you went to school.”

“Don’t be. Trust me, school was the worst. Especially if you had Mrs. Carmichael in seventh grade, which all of us did.” Jeremy laughed, Marcel smiled, and Clarence felt his own lips turn up. His shoulders unhunched.

It wasn’t exactly what he was expecting, but at least his family was safe.

#Au of an au... au-ception *bwommm*#father-son bonding au #team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 bidwell #dad spy #dadspy #team fortress 2 au #tf2 scout's brothers #spy x scout's ma #noodle writes #thetriggeredhappy #birbwell

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donutloverxo · 3 years ago

Text

A Royal scandal 4

Modern royalty au

Image from Instagram

cowritten with @lizzygal

Note - There will be no taglists for this. You can subscribe to the ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, mentions of previous domestic abuse, somnophilia, talks of virginity.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 7.8k

Story masterlist

Valkyrie, or simply Val, watched the entire thing unfold before her eyes and was helpless to stop any of it. All of it. All she could do was watch. Much like one would watch a train accident happen before their very eyes.

She had tried. In truth she had.

However, Sarah was the Queen Mother and Val was a member of the Royal Guard.

There was little she could do.

“Your Majesty,” she purred one last time, in one last attempt to save a situation that she knew deep in her heart was not going to go well at all. “Perhaps you would prefer to go inside and I’ll bring them into the reception area?”

Everything was wrong. So very wrong.

Outside the palace was normally empty.

As it was located in the center of the capital. An old historic building from imperial days that covered numerous city blocks, was where the government was run and where King Steven resided. Press knew better than to hang around outside the imposing palace gates as the king never left out them and was uninterested in opportunities to have his picture taken. As did the Queen Mother.

And yet, that morning, a whole gaggle of photographers were lined up and waiting for the visiting royals. Or so they had shared with Val.

Her Grace, Hope van Dyne, never went anywhere without getting her picture taken. In Val’s opinion, she probably had the phone number to every tabloid office in the world.

Sarah’s voice was kind. Soft. Gentle. It made Val want to wrap her queen up in a blanket and make her go inside so she could deal with their unwelcome guests. She stood beside Val at the top of the steps of the palace, provided with a great view of the black sedan that had pulled in through the gates. The flashiest possible way to enter the palace instead of through the underground garage like everyone else.

“Oh no. That’s hardly necessary. They wanted a scene. Let us give them one.”

Not liking the sounds of that at all, her brown eyes flickered over to look at the slim woman with a head of artfully styled strawberry blonde curls, a button nose and rose petal lips. She was every bit as regal as her title, even if she had not a drop of royal blood in her body.

“You can’t think that they actually called the press to say that the Duchess Hope was the woman with His Majesty on the video from the royal banya?”

Sarah’s cool blue gaze flickered to her royal bodyguard before returning back to the sedan so she could observe her former friend climb out, followed by her raven-haired daughter who waved to the photographers on the other side of the iron gates.

That was exactly what Sarah suspected the second she’d seen it in the morning paper. Though she doubted she would ever find out who had started that rumor.

“Have you found out why they’re here?”

Grimacing, Valkyrie shook her head, unhappy to not have an answer for her queen beneath the cloudy chilly winter day. “Not yet Your Majesty. We have reached out to the Maharaja’s Staff and are waiting to hear back. Soon though we suspect.”

Any second now Val hoped her phone would ring so she could tell the queen.

Which led to Sarah turning her head to look away from her guests as they climbed the stairs. She looked away from the large fountain that the sleek luxury car was parked beside and gave her last true smile for what she suspected would be till lunch. Reaching out, she placed her hand on Valkyrie’s wrist. One of her preferred bodyguards. She’d been loyal and had on two occasions nearly given her life in service of her country. “I trust you will find out and inform me as soon as possible. Do not fret. I doubt they will be leaving anytime in the near future.”

Only a lifetime of service kept Val from cracking a smile.

Instead, her dark eyes watched the silver haired Queen of the Netherlands climb the steps towards them. Smiling. Dressed expensively with a heavy coat made from numerous small furry animals.

Queen Janet van Dyne approached as if it hadn’t been years. She came to stand beside Sarah and greet her in such a way that would make for a perfect picture. Or so Sarah noticed. She greeted her as if they were still friends who spoke frequently on the phone and still sent one another gifts. As if their children had married and everything was fine.

“Sarah! How wonderful to see you, you have not aged a day.”

Janet reached out with gloved hands trimmed in mink, leaned forward to place a polite kiss on Sarah’s cheek in greeting and was more than a little surprised when Sarah stepped away. Her own hands remaining clasped in front of her and out of Janet’s. Greeting or otherwise.

“Janet,” was all that came from Sarah’s mouth. A look went from Janet’s coat down to her dress and then shoes, pausing there before coming back up. “Is that the dress you wore to Lizzie’s grandson’s wedding?”

Surprised by the greeting, or lack thereof, Janet paused and then smiled brightly, knowing that though the cameras could not hear them they could capture this image on film. “Yes. We’re focusing on becoming sustainable out in the west. Going green isn’t merely a project meant as royal busywork.”

Sarah could actually feel Valkyrie stiffen beside her at mention of the Green Initiative that Steve had tasked her with and had been far from busywork. It was something that Sarah could go on and on about, one of her many efforts that she busied herself with and yet, she found she didn’t want to expend that much energy on her once friend.

Hands still in front of her, fingers laced together where she could feel her wedding band. Sarah tilted her head slightly to the side. “I wouldn’t know. We remain a governing monarchy here.”

Janet blanched. Her lips formed a straight line, nearly as straight as the way her spine stiffened.

Though Sarah was unable to enjoy it as she turned her attention to the daughter. Hope van Dyne. Formerly Princess Hope but now Duchess Hope, after having been stripped of her title and recently reinstated to a lesser one, in Sarah’s opinion anyway.

Hope looked lovely as ever.

Tanned. Dressed exceptionally well. Smiling exuberantly.

It almost warmed Sarah’s icy heart.

“Sarah! How are you? You look wonderful!” Exclaimed Hope, sounding genuinely thrilled to see the woman who might have been her mother-in-law had things gone differently. She stepped on up with outstretched arms and was greeted with a serene face that looked at her in confusion.

Sarah said nothing. Not a word. Sarah maintained eye contact and looked at Hope as if waiting for the younger woman to say or do something.

Thus leading to Hope blinking in confusion and lowering her arms, looking to her mother for assistance as this clearly was not the welcome she expected.

“Is something wrong,” Hope asked a bit nervously as a winter breeze ruffled the fur on her mother’s coat. Sneaking under the cashmere of her own, as she hadn’t had time to properly shop for winter here. This was her mother’s idea. It was her last hope. Her father had refused to hear her and not even her mother could plead her case this time. This was it.

“I was about to ask you the same.”

Val watched Hope’s confusion and fought hard to not say anything at all, and it was becoming painful to watch in her opinion. Her gaze veered over to all the photographers that were watching more than taking pictures. Even they seemed to realize this visit was not starting off smoothly.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

Val risked a look over at her queen. Her queen who was peering at the young woman who had referred to Val’s people as ‘war criminals’ or ‘superstitious backwoods fools.’

Unable to take another moment of it, Valkyrie cleared her throat.

Finally making Sarah take mercy on Hope who really should have known better in her opinion. “In civilized societies, a duchess would curtsey to a queen. Perhaps things are different for those who are merely ceremonial in purpose.”

***

Someone called your name and for a second, you were terrified that Wanda had come for your ass.

Not that you could blame the best friend you’d had since high school.

Upon heading into the offices of the royal palace that morning, you had intentionally avoided her , secure in the knowledge that she was pissed at you and you really did not want to have the fight you knew was coming someplace public like the office.

So, you’d been groveling via text and promising to go out with her that night for a girls night, swearing on your honor that you would tell her everything! Because Wanda was no fool.

Wanda saw the new dress you had on. Wanda saw your new shoes. Wanda noticed your perfect makeup and styled hair. Wanda also brought up the facts that you’d not been home that night or early morning, as well as the crucial one regarding your flatiron that was still in the bathroom the two of you shared.

Needless to say, you had a lot of explaining to do.

There was no getting around it. You were going to have to tell her about Steve. Sure, you’d swear her to secrecy until everything came out. The palace had made its announcement this morning about King Steven being in a relationship that he would make public soon. A second public statement had come from the Palace PR Guru, Maria Hill, stating that without a doubt, the king was not involved with Duchess Hope after a few rumors had burnt their way through the palace and news cycles.

Besides, Wanda should know. Wanda deserved to know. You and Wanda had come on this adventure post university together. Wanda had to know before it came out in the form of an official palace announcement, or else Wanda might very well skin you alive.

Hearing your name on a female tongue had you snapping up, your attention diverted away from the emails you were checking.

Wanda?

No.

It was not Wanda.

It was an Indian woman in a well-tailored pantsuit. Her dark hair was swept up in a chignon. Her lips a shade of red that had you lowkey thinking about asking for the name and shade of said lipstick. Her dark eyes bore right through you. As if spearing you from your chair and to the wall of your office.

“You are the King’s Chief of Staff?”

While your natural first instinct was to report that was what it said on your door. Professional-you put the kibosh on that right away. Inner you was somewhat intimidated by this powerful woman who looked as if she knew your every last secret.

Head held high this woman so informed you in a tone that let you know she was here for nothing less. “The Maharaja has sent us. Duchess Hope of the Netherlands has stolen from us and is here with the intention of pleading political asylum. While the Maharaja would like nothing more than to have her brought back for trial of the theft of our priceless treasures. I will settle for what was taken and no less.”

Ok. Well. Maybe you thought too soon.

Maybe Wanda was preferrable over this person.

“Oh…goody…” came from your lips with a frown.

“General Odinson sent me here. He told me that you would be able to help resolve this issue for me post haste.”

Oh of course General Fucking Thor Odinson would send this person your way so he didn’t have to deal with this international nightmare of an incident.

Letting out a deep breath, you held up a finger. “Let me just send this out real quick…what’s your name?” And you typed as quickly as humanly possible on your encrypted laptop.

“Ekta. I am with the Maharaja’s Royal Guard.”

Because of course she was. Why wouldn’t she be? Why wouldn’t Hope have stolen from the Maharaja and bounced? Though you’d never had the pleasure of meeting her face to face, you’d heard more than your share about the infamous Duchess, then Princess, Hope.

Typing. Typing. Typing.

“You’ve got any pictures or detailed descriptions of what the items stolen look like? I’m sure His Majesty will be very curious. And, you know, the more information of what we’re looking for the better.”

And done.

With a tap on your laptop, you’d sent out an email to the Finance Minister. Then up you stood.

“Of course,” Ekta answered coolly.

Not that you blamed her. If you were in her shoes, you would have been super pissed off too. Being robbed was never fun.

“Let’s go see if we can track down His Majesty. If not, we’ll make an appointment with his secretary and then go see who is in the office of our Royal Guard. Someone is always in there and I know that Carol, she’s Captain of the Guard, is working right now.” You explained, as if you felt that telling this unhappy woman all these things could somehow make everything right. Probably not. But you still had to try. It was in your nature to fix problems and you most definitely wanted to fix this problem.

Ekta said nothing.

She merely followed you out of your office and into the hallway which was lined with doors and walls of tasteful and probably expensive original art.

You looked to the left.

Then to the right and nearly died then and there at your luck.

How had you gotten so lucky?

There, mere feet away and closing, was not just Carol but His Majesty, deep in discussion about something that was irritating them both.

You had an inkling that you knew what was at the heart of their discussion.

The sight of you made them stop talking and pause in their tracks, which told you that you had been the one that they were seeking.

Before anything could be done, you bowed. “Your Majesty, just the person I was hoping to find.” Up you flourished your hand to gesture at Ekta, who you could feel was beside you, practically putting off rays of righteousness. “We have a visitor from the Maharaja’s Royal Guard. This is Ekta. She is here because of something that concerns the Duchess Hope.”

The reaction that came was almost immediate from both Steve and Carol.

A look as if Steve had suddenly smelled a dead animal came over his face. Carol however cocked her hip to the side, lifted her chin in a dark blue pantsuit, almost demanding in a knowing sort of way. “What’d she steal from you guys? Art or jewelry?”

For the first time ever, you noted a moment of Ekta’s veneer breaking. Like she was taken off balance. “The duchess stole from you too?” Then, almost as an afterthought came, “Your Majesty?”

And this was news to you too.

You had no idea that Hope had taken souvenirs with her that weren’t free to take when she fled the Royal Palace for India all those years ago.

When Steve spoke, his teeth were clearly clenched together. “Yes. Both. She raided my mother’s room as well as the halls for art and pieces that are priceless. Sacred treasures from my countries history that can never be replaced. She filled her suitcase with on her way out.”

“Every now and then an item will appear on the black market. We can only assume that she is selling them when she is in need of money.” Carol helpfully added.

Beside you, you could practically feel Ekta tremble. Shake out of control one could say.

“Is the Duchess Hope here?”

For that you had no answer.

Carol however had one. “Yes. Her Majesty is taking tea out in the gardens with the Duchess Hope and her own mother.”

After being brought abreast of that development, you had a statement to make. One you thought was obvious. But none-the-less, out it came. Maybe none of them knew? “It’s snowing outside.”

Thus leading Steve to turn his attention on you. Finally. And when he did so, he looked at you as if you were only his Chief of Staff. He looked at you kindly without the heat in his eyes from earlier that morning, when he’d woken you up by pushing himself deep into your body until the both of you reached a climax that made your eyes cross and left an impression of his teeth broken into your shoulder.

“Yes. Mother wanted to be sure that the Duchess Hope did not steal anything else from within the palace walls whilst they are here.”

Well then.

Even you had to admit. The Queen Mother could be downright frosty when the occasion called for it. Pun intended.

“She’s having tea with Queen Janet and Duchess Hope outside? In the frigid temperatures?”

You couldn’t quite make yourself believe it. You blinked. You looked from Steve who appeared casual after his statement, like he just told you the winters here were cold. Over to Carol who was pulling out her phone from her pocket. Acting like you hadn’t said anything out of the normal.

“Your Majesty, I’ll take care of Ekta and deal with this issue. If anything arrives concerning this issue. I will contact you. Nakia will come fill my place today.”

If Steve was greatly upset by any of his, he made no outward indication of it other than a nod of his head that he both heard and understood and accepted what Carol had told him. His attention was instead focused on you.

“I have a meeting concerning the Switzerland trip about the proposed embassy. Go get your notes. You’ll be joining me.”

***

Her Grace, the Duchess Hope van Dyne, had finally made it in the palace after that psycho, the Queen Mother Sarah, had the audacity to serve tea in the garden as flakes of snow drifted down. And if that weren’t barbaric enough, afterwards, she then led them around the winter garden as if Hope gave a damn.

Hope had problems and Queen Sarah was not very receptive to any of her attempts to thaw the ice that had formed around Sarah’s heart. Nor did her mother, Janet, have much luck.

When did Sarah turn into such a bitch?

Sarah should have been ecstatic that Hope would even return to this shithole. Sarah’s son was still single, he needed a queen and his backwoods hovel wanted a queen and Hope had royal blood. What more did Sarah need? Did she need it written down?

When did Sarah turn into such a horrible host?

Hope remembered a distinctively different Sarah. When she had lived in this palace, Steve’s mother had coddled her, practically waited on her hand and foot to be sure that Hope was happy and settling in so far from civilization. Where was that Sarah now?

Somehow, Hope had managed to break away, pleading a need to use the powder room around the time her toes and fingers went numb. As she hadn’t had the time to properly shop for clothes to wear in this frigid shithole. India had been so gloriously warm. She’d loved India. Hope would have loved to stay there but things had gone south.

Eventually, like everything else, it’d blow over.

Until then though, she needed someplace safe to stay. She needed to stay somewhere that the Maharaja couldn’t get her. What she needed was diplomatic immunity. However, that wasn’t going to happen since her father refused to even see her, so she’d just have to settle for sovereign immunity. Granted, Hope hadn’t expected it to be this difficult to see Steven and tell him that she was ready to get married now. For crying out loud, he should have been groveling at her feet for her to come back to him. Especially after that sex tape which had been burning up the internet and royal circles. If there was anything that Hope could do, it was bounce back from a scandal.

This was just ridiculous.

The Queen Mother should have been inviting them to this lunch with her son, instead of practically throwing Hope and Janet out. Which was exactly why Hope was wandering the halls in the search for Steven’s office. Toes tingling in her fashionable pumps. Her fingers burning from the warm air in the administrative offices.

Hope would need a whole new wardrobe once she got Steven onboard with her plan. As his current plan of ignoring the sex tape was absurd. These things needed to be tackled head on. With her as his queen by his side, Hope could handle all of it.

Ah, she found herself pleased at the sight of the royal seal over a doorway marking it as the king’s office.

Valkyrie followed her closely. That bitch.

As soon as Hope was queen, she’d be one of the first on the firing block. Following her around like some manner of commoner who might fill their pockets with royal gold. It was absurd. Hope was born a princess and one day she would become one again.

Hope remembered Valkyrie from when she was a young member of the guard and now, she was a Captain and just as irreprehensible as Carol, who Hope also despised. Both of them had to go. Reaching out with a hand that held a ring belonging to the sister of the Maharaja, Hope opened the door and marched right into the office of Steven’s secretary. Who was apparently gone for lunch.

Not that the room was empty.

Nakia, who had been seated on a couch in the office, stood. Dressed in a dark blue suit that all the royal guard wore. Her face stony at the sight of Hope and then darkened further in disgust. She stood tall. Regally. Holding her head high when she spoke down to the former princess. “The king is busy.”

Not that Hope would settle for anything less than seeing Steven in person immediately. She stepped forward. “The king is having lunch with his mother in fifteen minutes. I know for a fact he’s not doing anything of importance. Get out of my way, or I’ll have you selling souvenirs from a cart outside the palace when I am queen.”

At such a statement, Nakia found herself wanting to both laugh and spit in the face of this western woman. One who had referred to her people and country as little more than a backwoods hellhole full of illiterate stone pounders.

How often Nakia had dreamt of being so close to the Duchess Hope, how she thought of ripping out this woman’s forked tongue.

“Let her in,” came Valkyrie’s voice in their native tongue from the eastern regions of the land.

Sending Nakia’s dark eyes past Hope. A knowing expression claimed her features. “His Majesty is in there waiting for our queen.”

A shrug came from the senior guardswoman.

Nakia would be the first to admit, she had not been hopeful when the crown prince had been coronated as a teenager. No one in the country had been particularly hopeful but now, nearly everyone supported their king. His Majesty was a good king who served them all as much as they served him.

Nakia was protective of her king. She wanted her king to marry his Chief of Staff yesterday. Her land was in need of a queen, a woman’s touch one could say.

Knowing what was at stake with the coming lunch that her king would attend with his mother and lover, a visit from the Duchess Hope would not put him in the best of moods. The Queen Mother always grew quiet when King Steven was in such a mood. Why would Nakia allow such a thing to happen?

“Perhaps if he tells her she isn’t wanted here she’ll leave sooner? Let her in. That is an order.”

Pursing her lips unhappily, Nakia stepped back.

She wasn’t about to open the door to His Majesty’s office for this interloper. However, she would no longer stand in the way. Nakia even made sure to send a look that screamed impending homicidal violence. Spurring Hope quickly through the door without another syllable directed at Nakia.

Which was fine with Hope.

Hope couldn’t get away from Nakia quick enough.

Wanting distance sent Hope into the king’s large office without much thought. Looking as if it belonged in an old Victorian estate with dark wood, so many books, old art and thick dark Turkish Rugs.

What Hope did not expect was how much the prince had grown.

No longer a gangly young man whose mother had to have padding sewn into the robes that he was coronated in. This man sitting at his desk was big in every way. Exuding power in a manner that most could only dream and for a second, seeing Steven look at her with shocking blue eyes and stubble darkening his face, she was rendered speechless.

“What do you want Hope,” came Steven’s voice, more than a little annoyed. Far more emotion than she’d ever seen from the young man. Who was now very obviously a man.

This was not the Steven she remembered.

Before her was not the young man she remembered at all. Every last bit of him was very much a king and Hope suddenly, possibly for the first time in her life, found herself regretting many of the past choices she made. It seemed her mother was right. She’d been far too hasty in her youth. Her mother had told her that the prince would mature like a fine wine. Hope had written that off as nonsense meant to trap her into an arranged marriage like so many women before her.

Now?

Now she was looking at a tall powerful man close a very modern looking laptop and turn his attention on her in such a way that made her gut coil. What would it have been like to be the woman in the video? And where the hell did that thought come from? She had been wrong. So so very wrong.

Finally, gathering herself, Hope peered around the office and fussed at the pearl buttons on her coat. “I saw the video…” A noise came from Steven that she’d never heard before, yet, she went on. “…and since we’re still technically engaged, I thought I would return to help you put out the fires of this scandal.”

Another noise came from the king, a derisive snort.

“Wow. That’s cute. Highly amusing coming from you.” Though there was no hint of heat or passion in his words that had been so evident on that video. In her opinion, he didn’t even sound bored. Worse. Steven then leaned back in his seat, peered around her and asked, “Who let you in here?”

Those words, those uncaring words as if she were little more than the two guards outside his office made her burn, bristle.

Which had Hope clearing her throat, bristling one could say. “Actually, it’s more than cute. If you recall, I come from a distinguished royal house. Our engagement is a legally binding agreement.”

For the reaction she got, she might as well have told him it was showing outside.

As she was prone to when there was silence that needed to be filled, Hope pushed the waves of dark hair over her shoulder. She shifted from one foot to the other and watched Steven lean back in his chair.

Finally, as if sensing that she wasn’t going to leave, Steve offered her a shrug. Finding the mere sight of her numbing. He could have cared less what she did one way or the other. So long as she stayed out of his room. He had valuable things in there that he was fond of. “I’m not marrying you. Do with that as you will, you’ll find no sanctuary here.”

This was most certainly not the Steven that she had left all those years ago. It took Hope a second to collect herself, to steel herself. No one had spoken to her in such a way in quite a while. Her brain screamed at her that damage control needed to be done but she was not sure how. In what way? What did she say?

Hope’s brain screamed at her that the plan was failing, everything was going wrong. This was not supposed to happen this way and now she was failing horrendously. What did she do? How could she fix this?

Pricks of pain came from her fists as her nails dug into her palms. Telling Hope that when she unclenched her fists, she would see blood. “You have to marry me!”

Oh this was bad.

This was really really bad.

Across the expanse of his desk, Steve remained calm. Almost to the point of uncaring and such demeanor was reflected in his words. In the way his broad shoulders shrugged and how he rubbed his rough cheek, as if that were more interesting.

“I do not need or want your assistance for anything, forget that video. There is no reason for me to be ashamed of it.”

“Steven! Listen!”

He could see the desperation on her face, hear it in her voice and after so long, he wished he could say that it was rewarding. He wished that he could say it made him feel better after everything that had happened.

It didn’t.

There was just nothing. Little more than cold numbness. Steve felt absolutely nothing.

Nothing was there anymore.

When he looked at Hope there was nothingness.

It reminded him of his father. He hated when he felt that way, when he thought of his father. There was no one on this earth that Steve loathed more. It was his very purpose for being, to not be his father. To end that cycle. To let it die with him.

Most irritably, he shifted in his seat. His eyes found the picture of you both on his desk from a trip to Scotland.

Hints of his father swirled with every syllable only furthering his inner revulsion with himself, his genes and heritage.

“When you left, I did not officially break our engagement as a common courtesy to your father. No more no less. I am a king. You cannot compel me to do anything.”

Pools of blue found Hope again though. A little bit of serene malice hovered between them.

“If you continue to be an annoyance, I will. I am a king now. I have a country to govern. I do not have time for the childish games and pursuits that occupy the western families.”

“Steven this is serious! I could go to prison! In India!”

May his ancestors help him, his first initial response would have been to remind her of her place, remind her of how he should be addressed.

His Majesty.

Exactly as his father would, he swore he heard his father’s voice in his ear.

“You have to help me out! I’m begging you! I don’t care about that other woman. You can have all the mistresses you want!”

A peek down at his watch told Steve that he had minutes to wrap this up and go collect you. Minutes. He had minutes to regain his sanity before he saw his mother.

Minutes.

“Steven!”

Standing from his chair, he shook his head. Doing his best to silence the sound of his father telling him he was not good enough, was not worthy, was not fit to rule. His voice was soft because Steve would not yell like that man. “No Hope. I’m sorry, but no. You remind me of my father. You make me feel like him. You bring him back to life and I cannot live with his ghost. So no. You will have to deal with the consequences of your actions like the rest of us.”

Her eyes went wild.

Steve could see it and was glad he wasn’t within reach of her. He watched her grab a Fabergé Egg from the end of his desk.

Colorful glass accented in gold with rubies around the middle. It fit in her hand but only just, being the size of an ostrich egg and then it went soaring through the air where it smashed loudly into a wall. Denting the dark wood and shattering. Smashing into dozens and dozens of colorful pieces that fell to the floor.

Having felt the very loss of hope itself, she turned to set her storm on him. “You’ll regret this, Your Majesty.” Before turning and leaving, slamming his office door behind her as hard as possible. Leaving Steve with the sound of his father telling him that he wasn’t worthy.

***

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

It was a question for the ages.

A swipe or two of lipstick always gave you the courage you needed in any occasion. But then again, this was not merely any occasion. This was lunch with your boyfriends mother to officially meet her and get to know her, because you were in a serious committed relationship with her son. Because you loved her son.

Oh, and her son was the king, so there were expectations on that already plus with her being the Queen Mother, that was sorta already an expectation of its own.

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

You wanted to look your best because the Queen Mother always looked immaculate. But you also didn’t want to risk getting lipstick on your teeth. Leading you to peer once more into the bathroom mirror.

No. No lipstick. If you put on lipstick you’d be thinking about your lipstick and you needed to focus on making a good impression.

Otherwise, your makeup looked fabulous. Really. Five stars. Two thumbs up.

This had you stuffing your makeup back into your purse and kinda sorta looking up when the bathroom door opened, shut and was locked. Because really. Why would the door be locking?

In the art deco styled bathroom, Steve’s form was very clear and your eyebrows shot up.

Luckily, you were alone, considering how beyond pissed off he looked. One hundred and ten percent not fit to have lunch with his mother. Not with him in this condition.

You had no idea what happened, but something had happened.

He crossed the red and white marble tiled floor. Walked past the gilded edged stalls and stained-glass doors to where you stood at one of four sinks with bronze fixtures and ornately framed mirrors.

To be honest, it was your favorite bathroom of all time. Your Instagram was full of pictures of this bathroom, selfies in this bathroom, up-close pictures of the stained glass.

“Are you ok?”

Beneath his smoothly shaven face, his jaw twitched. “Fine. Are you ready?”

He was tense enough you wouldn’t have been shocked if his joints started to pop, or his teeth cracked from how hard he was clenching his jaw.

Seeing him like this was a no go for Queen Sarah. Everyone knew that she hated to see her son like this and at first you never knew why, not until someone had told you that her husband had the same mannerisms. Steve’s father done the same thing when he had been angry.

While it was common knowledge that Steve was not his father, Steve would never hit his mother.

Some memories could just never be wiped clean.

Having Steve like this was not how you wanted this first lunch with his mother to go. Not one bit. Both of them needed to be on cloud fucking nine. Meaning you were going to have to do something.

“Almost,” was what you told him. A plan already set into motion as you grabbed a few paper towels from the bronze dish that held them between sinks.

One last peek at your hair and you were set. Purse in hand. You stepped on over to press your lips to the flat firm line that was Steve’s mouth. “Could you hold this for me?”

Steve never questioned you or thought twice.

Whether it was from love or trust, or he was too angry over whatever? No one would ever know.

But you seized the moment! Pounced on the opportunity.

You acted as if you were going to check your pumps and instead, set down the paper towels so you could kneel at his feet. Before Steve even had a second to think about it, you had his pants unbuttoned, unzipped and down around his knees. Knowing that the king went commando that morning worked seamlessly into your plan.

His dick hung softly between his muscular creamy thighs.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold my purse with both hands, Your Majesty.”

Though soft, his size was still above average. His penis was solid. Thick. A pink tip peeked out beneath foreskin that was stretched over his member. Soft as velvet, you kissed his slit as you pushed his foreskin up to reveal his shaft.

“Remember the first time I ever saw your dick?”

You sank down on his soft flesh after, sucking him in till nearly all of him fit in your mouth. It rarely happened. Only when he wasn’t erect. When Steve was erect, it wasn’t physically possible unless you unhinged your jaw and didn’t have a gag reflex.

“Oh god…” he gasped out at the warm and wet sensation of your mouth closing around him. Cold air on his ass cheeks. Exposed. Vulnerable. His sac hanging heavy and you down on your knees, taking nearly all of him in your mouth.

Steve clung to your purse like a lifeline.

Thinking back, you hummed out thoughtfully, knowing how fantastic the vibrations felt on him. Knowing that the warm softness that was his dick would soon harden. Until then, you enjoyed how you could take him like this. You relished the smell of him, musky and male. Savored how smooth his skin was on your tongue. Reached up and cupped his testicles that hung down for you.

It’d been at a fundraiser.

A black-tie affair for something or another, who could remember?

The two of you had stolen away towards the end, snuck off when everyone was mingling together and socializing. Slightly tipsy or buzzed from the open bar.

Not the two of you.

No.

Both of you had barely drank. Focused instead on getting away so you could steal some moments together. Moments like these. Moments where your hands were all over one another, your mouths hungry for one another. Frantic for that connection between your bodies that nature demanded and you both were trying so hard to make happen.

Tonight was the night though.

You were determined.

Sucking him deep. Swirling your tongue around him. You could feel Steve starting to thicken up which had you popping off his mouth and surveying the sight of his dick taking on a pinkish hue as blood filled it.

“Are you thinking about it, Your Majesty? About how fucking big your cock is? About how it shocked me? Remember?”

Based alone on the sound that came from Steve, you could deduce that he remembered. Possibly even vividly.

“I remember,” you cooed, licking his pink head and suckling on the end of his dick. Flicking against the hole with your tongue. Massaging his balls. Taking his hardening shaft in your other hand. Needing him to feel only you. Needing him to be here with you. “It was the biggest dick I’d ever seen in my life.”

”You don’t have to.” He had whispered to you in a dark corner of the atrium. Hidden by plants and furniture.

Not that you’d cared.

By that point he had gone down on your countless times and you’d never seen it. Only feeling it through his pants when you’d made-out or groped him, when your bodies rubbed against one another in a frantic urge for completion.

“Jesus Christ Steve! You’re the only man I know who doesn’t want his dick sucked.”

“It’s not that…” he came back with, pausing and finally giving in, allowing you to unzip the black pants of his tux and yank them down. Pull them down and out it popped.

Erect.

Hard. So hard.

Foreskin drawn back to reveal an angry red head smeared with pre-cum.

It was massive, a beast, the hugest dick you’d ever laid eyes on and from on your knees, in a ballgown, made up to feel like a princess. You gasped. You straight up gasped like you were a teenage girl seeing your very first penis. Albeit, the one that was so full of blood it bobbed eye level with you, pointing upwards, was considerably more impressive and probably five inches longer than that first ever dick, easy. As you didn’t exactly have a tape measure on you for comparison.

“Oh my god…” you whispered, well aware that your eyes were wide and mouth was very likely a perfect O. “It’s so big! It’s like the biggest I’ve ever seen! Steve your dick is huge! What do you feed it?”

His voice was a bit concerned. Embarrassed even?

Was he embarrassed about this behemoth in his pants?

“I’m sorry, I know. It can be uncomfortable to give me oral sex. You really don’t have to. I don’t expect.”

But you had cut him off with grabby hands wrapping around his erection, pushing up his foreskin and licking the salty jizz that was starting to ooze out. “Shut up, Your Majesty. Tell me how you want it.” In your ministrations you had lifted up his generous manhood and set eyes upon the heavy balls that hung down between his thighs. “Holy Canada! You have a set of balls to match. You have no idea how much fun I’m going to have fitting those in my mouth.”

When you finally ripped your eyes away from his sexual organ, you shook your head and admonished him severely. “I cannot believe you’d keep this from me!”

Exactly how you knew Steve liked, you sucked on his head and played with the tip of your tongue on his hole. You took him as deep as you could as his erection grew harder and harder in your mouth. Tracing your tongue along the sides and pumping him with your hand until his girth grew so wide, you were unable to touch your fingertips around him.

Up and down you sank on his cock. Till he was rigid beneath your lips and you drug your teeth along at times to heighten the sensation.

Slurping. Squeezing his balls. Hollowing out your cheeks and swallowing any salty release that began to dribble out. You savored the sight of his fingers clenching your purse tightly and his eyes screwed shut.

Between languid trips up and down his length, you pulled off to lick his blunt tip with the flat of your tongue.

“What are you thinking about, My King?”

At first, you didn’t think he would or could answer, which was fine. Your attention was on the round edge of his organ. Licking it. Flicking it with your tongue. Playing with it till you sank back down.

After a few seconds.

After a deep breath from Steve.

After that, he managed to get out.

“Thinking about that night. The night I took your maidenhead.”

Your maidenhead?

Well, that was a trip to past. It sent your eyes up and your mouth back off him so you could speak without a mouth full of dick. “Mmm. Thinking about how you went crazy? How you went all feral and popped my cherry?”

In your hand his penis twitched.

It was too perfect an opportunity to not pounce upon it.

If you couldn’t make him come from saying these filthy disgusting true things to him, did you really deserve to marry this man? “Your Majesty? Does it turn you on to think about my having been a virgin? About how you’re the only man to ever be in my body? Do you remember how tight I was? How hard you had to push to break my hymen?”

Little motions came from Steve. Whether he knew it or not. He was making small thrusts into your mouth that you hummed around, sucked on.

Something hit the floor.

Hands were on your head, fingers were in your hair. A wicked smile curled over your lips and Steve was methodically pumping into your mouth.

He sounded strained. He sounded like he was in pain.

“Felt so good. You’re so good to me. My angel. You were so tight.” He declared, announced, would have shouted to the heavens if he was capable. Each word came out in cadence. Almost in a chant. “Felt so good. Feels so good still. You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine.” On top of feeling you sucking him deep. Paired with your fingers holding his testicles tight. Mixed with your fist wrapped around his base. It was a glorious storm coming together to make him shatter.

Steve was going to come. He was going to come like right now.

It sent his thoughts spiraling along with his words.

“Love you. Love your body. Love being in you. So warm and tight and mine. All mine. All of you is mine. Want you. Want to fill you. Want want want.”

Gasping out. His breath gone. All air left his lungs when Steve climaxed into your mouth. A pitched noise did come that was followed with his fingers pulling your face against him, his pelvis pushing into you. A moan that made him weak in the knees followed that told him you were pleased with him. You were happy.

If he died in the next moment, he would have been a happy man.

All Steve could feel was pleasure. It consumed him body. It whited out his mind. It made his balls empty into the warmth of your mouth, till he was certain that nothing remained.

Even then you weren’t done.

Helpless. Awestruck.

Hopelessly devoted, Steve watched you drag your tongue around him to clean him up. Catching the last few spurts of ejaculate on your tongue before you showed him, then swallowed his seed.

Rendering him panting and sweaty.

He dropped down onto his knees and he kissed you. Mindless. Unable to think about anything else other than your mouth and being lucky enough to have convinced you to be his woman. Steve kissed you deeply, uncaring about the fact he could taste himself, unconcerned when his tongue curled around yours that he might have gotten some of his own ejaculate. His Majesty didn’t care.

Nor was he overly concerned about his knees being on the cold marble tile when he groaned against your mouth. “Love you. Love you so much. Love you to the moon and back.”

#steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #modern royal au!steve rogers #king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x reader

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jayaury · 4 years ago

Text

The Help

“You certainly do seem highly skilled, Miss um… I know I’m going to mispronounce this…”

“Gabina. Don’t worry! Everyone gets it wrong the first time. Goblin names are always super hard, huh?”

Chris Locken glanced over the paper at the green woman sitting across from his desk. She was small, but what she lacked in height, she made up with in curves. A fact that Chris had been uncomfortably aware of since her arrival at his door. Her green breasts swelled against the dress that seemed modest, and she surely must have thought it was with its drab grey colour. But what she seemed ignorant of was the fact the thing was about a size too small, negating the boring tone with the way it stretched across emerald tits and hips. Her long black hair hung to her shoulders and her eyes were bright with long, fluttering lashes.

She was, in essence, far too lovely to be a maid.

Chris cleared his throat. “Right, ah. Gabina. So, why is it that you want to work as a maid in my home?”

“I want a career,” she said.

Chris lowered the resume an inch more. “A… career?”

“Oh yes,” Gabina said, nodding quickly, which, he couldn’t fail to notice, made her tits jiggle in her ever so tight dress. “I mean, most goblin girls set out just looking to land a sexy, dumb husband. But I’m not like that at all! I want to move up in the world. I want to be a self-sufficient girl. Someone who can take care of herself. Who’s more than just a pair of glorious green tits for boys to stare at.”

Chris forced his eyes from said breasts and back to her smiling face. “And a… maid is your choice?”

Gabina sighed, resting a cheek in her palm. “Honestly? I don’t really have much of a choice. My mother was very old fashioned. She showed me how to be the perfect housewife for my future husband. So all my skills are about cooking, cleaning, and… ahem. Other services.”

Chris had a feeling he knew what said services were. Goblins did have a reputation, after all. Little green nymphos and eager bimbos, all out to snare a husband by means fair or foul. But looking across at the goblin trying her very hardest to break that mold was something to see, he had to admit.

He cleared his throat. “Well, Gabina. I…” He paused, then put the document aside. “Listen. I can sympathize. I don’t really need a maid, but every noble needs to have some servants.”

“Oh absolutely! And I promise I’ll serve you as well as anyone could ask.”

Chris hesitated still. He really didn’t want any servants. But what he’d said was true. He’d look poor before the other nobility if he had no one to answer the door. And he could sympathise with her plight. Aaaaand the house had been getting dusty…

He’d like to say it wasn’t the sight of her breasts stretching that drab grey that made the decision, but he’d also be lying. And he hated lies. “Alright,” he said, standing. “We’ll give it a few months trial, how about that?”

Gabina beamed, fairly bouncing from her seat in delight and taking his hand, shaking it frantically. “Oh you won’t regret this, master! I’ll be the picture of a good maid! You just wait and see!”

Chris cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. Right. Well, I suppose I’d best show you around the place. I’m sure you’ll get used to it soon.”

“Absolutely, sir,” Gabina said, giggling. “I’m sure I’ll feel right at home…”

---

Chris found Gabina a hard worker, dedicated, and willing to take initiative.

He also found her increasingly distracting.

It wasn’t anything she did, so much as what she was. For even with a maid uniform she’d bought herself, there was no denying her almost carnal charms. She just filled out anything she wore. Every movement seemed designed to entice and tease, her skirt riding up her ass whenever she bent down. Her blouse threatening to burst around her breasts with every act.

Chris found it increasingly difficult to do anything but watch her, which was absolutely improper, and also, absolutely impossible to avoid doing. Especially since there always seemed to be something to be cleaned wherever he was.

He was in the library at the moment, working through some documents about recent seasonal weather variances and what it might mean for his lands, when he noticed that Gabina had joined him. She was busy wiping down one of the side tables, but due to its height, she was forced to lean forward to properly clean it, hiking up her skirt and baring the shapely globes of her rear, her panties a thin strand between those firm, green orbs.

Chris swallowed thickly and wrenched his eyes back to the book before him.

“Master?”

He jumped at that word and glanced up quickly to find the goblin before his desk. “Ah, yes, Gabina? What is it?”

“You look tired, master. Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes. Yes. Fine. Just… a bit stiff.”

Her eyes brightened. “Oh!” she said, beaming happily. “I know something for that.”

“You do?” he said.

“Yes! My mother taught me it. It’s a way to massage away that stiffness in the back. Makes you nice and… loose.”

Chris blinked, wondering at the emphasis she’d put on that last word. “Well, ah…”

“Please, master,” she said, leaning forward on the desk, pushing her pretty face with its small nose and large, soulful eyes almost into his. “I hate to see you uncomfortable.”

Chris leaned back, but somehow couldn’t avoid those eyes. He tried to look anywhere else, but the immediate alternative was the pair of emerald breasts absolutely straining to be free of her top, framed by lacy white like two green candies waiting to be unwrapped.

That image did not help him relax. In fact, nothing about the situation was, but as his eyes found hers again, he could only stammer out, “Ah, well, if that… if you think so then… well, alright…”

The joy on her face when he said those words made his breath catch at her beauty. “Oh, thank you master! You won’t regret it. Now, let me just come around there and lend you a hand.”

“Well, I suppose…” he said, trailing off as she bounced about the desk. He heard the scrape of a stool as she dragged it up behind his chair, and suddenly wondered why she hadn’t been using it while cleaning earlier. Then he felt her climb up behind him, her warm breath grazing the hairs on the back of his neck, her tender hands resting on his shoulders.

“Just relax, my lord. Let me help you.”

Chris tried to relax, not easy with the giggly beauty behind him. But then he felt her hands on his shoulders. Felt them dig in, knead, and suddenly relaxing seemed much, much easier.

Chris sighed, sinking into the chair as Gabina worked his shoulders.

“Does master like that?”

“Mmm. Very much,” Chris said.

“I can’t tell you how happy that makes me, master. A goblin girl just loves to please. And I do so want to make a very good impression on you.”

“You’re doing wonderfully right now,” Chris said, smiling dimly, finding it easier to be candid with the green beauty when in her hands. Like some barrier between them had been pushed aside as soon as she touched him.

And not just with her hands.

“I’m so glad, master,” Gabina cooed, and Chris felt her lean forward, her firm breasts pressing against the back of his head, her scent, something lemony and sweet, tickling his nose with suggestions of delights untasted. “I so want you to approve of hiring me. Want to have me around, helping out about the house.”

“Mmmm. Yessss,” Chris hummed softly.

“You’re doing so well, master,” Gabina’s voice said as if from very far away. “You’re getting so wonderfully relaxed and… easy…”

“I… am,” Chris said slowly, almost moaning it.

“I know you are. You do so love being relaxed. Being massaged. Letting all your silly worries and thoughts just… slip away…”

“Yessss,” he moaned, melting further. As soft and gooey as dough in the hands of a master baker.

“Good boy, my lord…”

Chris shivered, tingling at that word. But not alarmed. Oh no. He was far too relaxed for that. Far too relaxed and happy and easy…

“Master?”

“Hm?”

“Do you like it when I massage you?”

“Oh yes….”

“Then, maybe I should do it more often? Maybe I should do it every night?”

“Every…”

“Night, yes. Maybe master would like it very much. I think you’ll be far more productive… far more… relaxed… if I get to massage you every night…”

“Oh,” Chris said, the word leaving him like a gasp as he felt her hands move down his shoulders, across his chest, his robe seemingly such little protection against those dexterous touches. “Um… I…”

“Don’t worry,” Gabina giggled. “Don’t fret, master. Master doesn’t have to worry at all, as long as his obedient goblin maid is around.”

Chris nodded softly as her words whispered like a song into his ears. Yes. Yes, no need to worry. No need to… to fret. Just had to… had to listen to Gabina’s words. Her soft tones. So soothing. So relaxing. Her breasts so soft pressed against his back as her hands moved lower. Lower. Lower.

“Oh my, Master, you are so tense here,” Gabina giggled as her fingers stroked the bulge in his pants.

Chris felt his cheeks warm. “Um… Oh. I um…”

“Shhh. Don’t worry, master. Just relax. Let me help ease all that tension from you with my magic hands.”

Magic?

That word stirred some worry in Chris. “Um, Gabina. You… are you… mnnnn!”

His words died in a moan as her delicate fingers undid his pants, his cock fairly springing into the open, and into the waiting grasp of the goblin’s green hands. He groaned as those slender fingers began to stroke him, teasing up and down, tingling against his cock.

“Goodness, master. You were tense! We have to make sure this doesn’t bother you anymore. We’ve just got to get you nice and soft and comfortable…”

“Ah… Ah…” Chris panted, his thoughts tumbling in his head, overwhelmed by the sensation racing through his cock. His loins aching wonderfully. His head swimming in a flood of pleasure as his parted lips panted hotly and his cock throbbed eagerly for more of her tender touches.

“Well, master? Should we have such relaxing sessions every night?”

“Ah… Gabina… I… Mnnnn…”

“Just relax, master. You can’t think when you’re tense. When boys are tense, they get so very dumb. Good boys need to be relaxed. Need to think clearly, or they might make the wrong decision…”

Chris panted, his hips working, thrusting up into her hand. “Gabina. I… ah… mnnnn! Oh, Gabina. I… I… Mmmmm!”

Chris threw back his head, his hips lifting as he moaned, his cock throbbing in her hands as he came, pumping his cum out and onto his lap in great bursts of pleasure. Groaning, Chris sagged into his seat, head cushioned by her tits as empty as his balls, milked by the green fingers of his goblin maid.

Gabina giggled, lifting her hand and delicately licking his cum from her fingers. “My! You were so pent up, master. That’s not good. It’s unhealthy. A good master needs to be nice and relaxed. And you look just exhausted. Maybe you should take a nap…”

“S-sleep? Yes. Sleep… sleep sounds… g-good…”

“Of course it does,” Gabina said, her voice as soft and smooth as velvet. “And I know master is so very easy right now. So sleepy. So… suggestible. In fact, every time I ask if you’re tired, I bet you’re going to feel so very sleepy. So very easy. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Nooooo…” Chris sighed, already feeling the weight of pleasant dreams on him.

“What word will make you relaxed?”

“…tired…”

“So very tired.”

Chris could already feel the word work. Like it awoke something in him. Or, rather, softened everything else. Like the whole world dissolved to that wonderful word.

“Relax.”

“Relax…”

“Sleepy…”

“Sl… ee… p…”

“Good boy,” Gabina whispered, kissing the back of his neck, a blossom of crimson sensation even as the darkness of the void rushed in. “I’m sure you’ll have wonderful dreams…”

---

It was odd. Chris had never felt very tense during work. And yet, since hiring Gabina, it seemed like the day was just a thing to be suffered through so he could go home and relax. Gabina explained that sometimes, men don’t realize how tense they are until they relax, and he had to agree. Ever since he allowed her to massage him every night, he was feeling so much more relaxed! The days seemed to just sail by in a haze.

But not so much that he didn’t notice when he gained a second maid.

He had just gotten home from a meeting with the village council, opening the door only to draw up with surprise. At first, he thought it was Gabina. She had the same green skin, the same short stature, and the same more than ample curves in her tight maid uniform. But when she turned around it was a pair of rich violet eyes in an unfamiliar but no less beautiful face. It was then Chris noted other differences, such as the violet streaks in her dark hair and a small diamond piercing in one nose.

“Hello, master!” the strange goblin said, dipping in a somewhat mocking curtsy,

“...Hello,” Chris said slowly, putting his hat onto a waiting hook without looking away from her. “And… you are?”

“Maggria,” the goblin said, drawing out the A. “Your new maid!”

“I have a maid,” he said.

“Yup! Your head maid, Gabina, was soooo kind to hire me to help out around the place.”

“She… hired you?” Chris said slowly.

“Yup!”

“I see,” Chris said. “And, where is Gabina? I think I’d like to speak to her.”

“Why, in the bedroom, master. And I’m sure she’ll love to speak to you too!”

Chris didn’t like that knowing smile on the goblin maid’s face, but he pushed it aside in favour of getting to the bottom of this. His coat tossed back onto another hook, he walked swiftly down the halls of his manor, his temper flaring. Where did Gabina get off, thinking to hire employees for him? She was just his maid! He was going to have to show her he wasn’t to be trifled with. He was the master of this house, damn it! He might fire her!

The thought that sent an unexpected pang through him, but he pushed it aside as he opened the doors to his private bedroom.

“Gabina!”

The goblin turned from fluffing his pillows and smiled. “Hello, master. You’re home early!”

“Nevermind that! Who is that in the hall?”

“Oh! You must mean Maggria. Isn’t she charming? I hired her on at your behest.”

“What are you talking about, Gabina? I never asked for…”

“Oh no,” Gabina said, her face falling. “Master? Don’t you remember what we talked about last night?”

“Talked about…”

Chris tried to think back to the night prior, but he was having some trouble. All he seemed to remember was Gabina easing him down for another session of relaxation, followed by pink clouds of warm pleasure.

“I… I don’t…”

“You don’t remember me talking about how such a big place is so awfully hard to clean all by my lonesome? About how I could really use some help? Especially now that my tasks have grown? It takes some doing to get my master nice and relaxed every night.”

“But…”

“And I mentioned that I knew the sweetest goblin girl who would make just a wonderful maid! And you were so happy to agree and let me hire her on.”

“I…” Chris trailed off. Had he? He couldn’t remember. But he remembered Gabina talking. A soft, soothing voice ferrying him along clouds of pink bliss. They could have talked about anything. He might have agreed to anything.

“But… I…”

“Oh dear. Master? Are you alright? You look a little… tired…”

Chris blinked, his shoulders relaxing. His body easing and mind growing dim. “I… I’m not that…”

“Oh but you must be! Working so hard. And I know your life is so stressful, master. That’s why I want to make your home so welcoming. So my wonderful, tired master can just… relax…”

Chris swayed a little on his feet. It was like a giant hand was gently pressing him down. His strength and anger bleeding from him in a steady torrent, replaced by teasing clouds of pink bliss. “I… I suppose I am feeling a… a little…”

“Then we simply must get you to bed!” Gabina giggled, taking his hand and drawing him towards his bed. His bed? Had his bed always been so… so big? Not to mention ostentatious. He looked at the curtains and the four posters dimly.

“My bed…”

“Is so soft, master,” Gabina said, her hands very busy. So quick he almost didn’t register when his pants and shirt were gone. “Here. See for yourself.”

She pushed him, and Chris fell into the bed with a gasp. He sank into a mattress as soft as downy feathers with a sound like a sigh.

He tried again to think, but it was getting quite hard to do that. Especially after Gabina climbed onto the bed with him, resting his head on the pillow of her lap. He looked up, but could barely see his maid’s smiling face owing to the great globes of her breasts eclipsing it from his view.

But he could see her smile. So warm. So happy. So… so…

Wonderful.

Chris sighed, sinking into her lap as her hands began to work on his shoulders. Her breasts so close. So wonderful. Her sweet scent surrounded him, soothed him as she always did when she got her nimble hands on him.

“Are you feeling better, master? A bit more… relaxed?”

“Mmm. Getting… there…”

Gabina giggled. “I’m so glad to hear that. A relaxed master is a happy master. It’s so hard to be tired and stressed all the time. It makes you so forgetful! And we can’t have that. We can’t have you being dumb. Far better to be relaxed. Be at ease.”

“Yessss,” he sighed softly as Gabina leaned forward a bit more. Her breasts a bit closer.

“And besides, master. Taking care of the house should be a maid’s job. We can’t have the master cluttering up his head with domestic things. Not when he needs all his brains for work. Better to let me think about the house. Take care of it. Make it a wonderful, relaxing place for my master.”

That… did sound nice. Chris smiled. He was starting to forget why he would even have a problem with Gabina taking over running the house. After all, the master of the house had so much more important things to do.

“And master?”

“Mmm?”

“There’s another reason I hired Maggria.”

“Hm?”

“It’s because she knows an absolutely amazing way to help master relax.”

“I sure do.”

Chris cracked open his eyes. His vision was almost obscured by the green breasts and coal-black nipples above his head (was Gabina always naked?), but he could see that Maggria was suddenly in the room with them, and currently leaning on the bed between his legs, chin in her palm, smirking at him.

Chris knew this was somehow improper. That she shouldn’t be in his room while he was being… relaxed. But when he opened his mouth to say something, Maggria took the opportunity to reach out, and stroke the bulge in his underpants.

“Oooooh,” Chris groaned, words drowned in the hot pleasure of that touch.

“I know all sorts of ways to help master relax,” Maggria giggled, her finger stroking the tip of his cock through the fabric, drawing playful little swirls that made his balls ache. “Lots and lots of ways…”

Chris panted, his head swimming, his eyes glassy with pleasure and bliss and the deep haze of his triggers. He watched, his breath hitching as Maggria tugged down his pants, freeing his cock from their confines. The goblin’s teasing eyes sparked in delight and she grinned wider.

“Mmm. I knew getting a job was the right move.”

“Isn’t it?” Gabina giggled. “Now you can help him relax all you want. Master so loves to relax.”

“Good to know,” the other goblin purred, leaned in, and took the whole of his cock between her lips.

Chris’s head fell back, eyes shooting wide open at the sensation of those heavenly lips going up and down his twitching cock. “Oooooooh,” he groaned as Maggria sucked dutifully, her tongue swirling around his length, her hand resting beneath him, cradling his aching balls and gently massaging and squeezing them, never so much to be painful, but always to a strange sensation so close to pleasure that he couldn’t be sure what it was.

The confusion of sensation spread through the rest of him, but all the while his body was helpless to it. Only able to ache wonderfully as the two goblins adored him, stroking cock with soft lips and shoulders with eager touches, easing all the tension from his frame.

“Master is so very tired,” Gabina crooned. “So tired.”

“Mmmm…” Chris moaned as deeper lethargy paralyzed his limbs. Held him captive to the twin pleasures of his maids.

“In fact, master is so tired, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind his two lovely maids coming by every night to make sure he’s relaxed. He’s always so… tense after work, it must happen in the night too. So tense and aching for his maids…”

“Yes,” Chris panted. “Yesssss…”

“Of course,” Gabina giggled. “Then, the only solution is for his lovely maids to spend all night with him. Make sure he’s nice and relaxed. Nice and easy. Nice… and… dumb…”

“D-dumb?” Chris moaned, a spark of unease working through his mind.

“Not stupid, master,” Gabina was quick to add. “Oh no no no. Master is so smart. But when he’s tired, he’s not thinking right. He’s feeling so very dumb. And that’s why he needs his pretty maids to make sure he’s relaxed. So he’s not so dumb every morning. Because he gets so much dumber when he’s tired. So much sillier.”

“Ah…” Chris whimpered as Maggria’s lips went down to his root and up again, her fingers giving his balls another wonderful squeeze. “Yesss. F-feel d-dumb… Want… wanna be… ah… relaxed…”

“Good master,” Gabina cooed. “And cumming makes you so relaxed. So sleepy. You just have to cum for your wonderful goblin maids. Why, every time you see them, you just feel so happy and relaxed. You never have to worry about being dumb. Your maids are here to serve. All you have to do is.

“Cum.”

The word struck his core like a gong. He shuddered, a rush of sensation shooting through him to every limb. His body quaked as he felt it gather in his balls, teased by Maggria’s hand. Swell up his cock.

“C-cuuuuuum!” Chris moaned.

He came with a shuddering moan. Every pump of his cock into the goblin’s hungry mouth seeming to drain more of his strength. More of his resistance. More of him as he sank deeper into the bed, his head spinning, lids lowering.

“Good master,” Gabina crooned. “Such a good boy. Sleep for us, master. Tomorrow, we’ll make sure we keep you nice… and relaxed…”

“Yes…” Chris said, sighing happily. “Sleep…”

His eyes slid shut, just catching a glimpse of the two goblin maids exchanging smiles. His ears ringing with their laughter as darkness swallowed him in slumber.

---

The weeks began taking on a familiar pattern for Chris. As the day wore on he began to feel more and more tired. More needing the relaxing attentions of his maids. And they were so right. The longer he spent away from his beloved maids, the dumber he began to feel. The more stumbling and fumbling and uncertain he grew until he fell into the arms of his beloved servants and they made everything right again.

Why, soon enough he didn’t even wonder why he had more servants about than before. It seemed like every day he got home and found a new goblin in her tight little uniform hard at work cleaning his manor. Cooking in his kitchens. Smiling at his presence. He didn’t need to worry. Gabina knew what she was doing. And she was happy to introduce him to each of his new servants in his new big bed, where they could help him relax even more.

“Master,” Gabina crooned one evening as he lay in bed, being relaxed like a good boy. The goblin was sitting atop his chest, teasingly bouncing her breasts in her arms while two other goblins cradled his head on their laps, stroking his head and kissing his cheeks.

“Mmmm,” Chris hummed, watching his maid’s big breasts bounce so delightfully. Bounce, bounce, bouncing away all his tension and thoughts and silly worries.

“The other maids and I were talking, and we’re worried.”

Chris stirred. His maids… worried? Oh no. He couldn’t have that. “Wh-what about…” he breathed. It was hard to think at the moment. His cock was tragically being untended, left alone to twitch and throb while Gabina spoke to him.

“Well,” the goblin maid giggled, cupping her big breasts, thumbs gliding over dark nipples. “We’re worried that you’ve been getting a bit… too stressed. A little… too dumb.”

“O-oh?” Chris breathed. He tried to think if she was right, but somehow, couldn’t order his thoughts. He relaxed, though. After all, if Gabina said it was so, she must be right. “Um… okay…”

She giggled, as did the two cradling his head in their laps. “Oh yes master,” Gabina crooned, leaning in closer, letting him admire the big, perfect roundness of her big tits. Dangling them so near his face he could almost kiss them. Almost, if only the touches of the two goblins at his shoulders didn’t make him feel so heavy… “Me and the other servants are worried someone would take advantage of you. And we simply can’t have that…”

“Oh noooo. Not our precious master,” the two goblins at his head cooed.

Chris felt his body warm even further. He looked up at the pair. Maggria and… um… was it Ladina? He couldn’t remember. There were so many goblins about the place these days. So hard to keep track. He felt his cheeks burn. Oh, he must be really dumb if he couldn’t even remember the names of his servants.

“Um… I… Um…”

“But it’s okay,” Gabina said, leaning forward, her breasts so close he could smell the sweet lemony perfume Gabina put on them. “It’s all okay, master. We have a solution.”

Chris smiled, letting his thoughts subside beneath the wonderful haze of his pleasure again. “Oh. G-good. Solutions… good…”

Gabina giggled. “Oh yes, master. Why, it’s so simple! Our delightful master just never has to leave the house again! That way, no mean people can ever take advantage of him…”

Never… never leave the house?

Chris opened his mouth, closed it. Something… something about that felt wrong. So wrong it managed to stir him from his pleasured slumber. “Um… But… My… my lands are…”

“Oh master! Master, please don’t worry. Your lands will be fine. Your lovely maids will be sure to make sure they’re taken care of. They’ll be happy to go out and ensure your lands are so very well ordered. Why, if you need anything done, just tell us, and we’ll make sure your properties are so very well managed. After all, why have so many lovely servants if not to serve?”

“Y-yes,” Chris said, breathing soft and deep. “But… um, that… I can’t… um…”

He was trying so hard to answer. To focus. But his thoughts just wouldn’t line up. Not when his eyes couldn’t stop watching Gabina stroke her big breasts. Bounce them in her arms.

Bounce.

“Of course,” Gabina crooned, plucked a bottle from the bedside table, upending it, pouring glistening oil onto her green breasts. Chris’s mouth fell open as she began to spread that oil over her big, vermillion tits. Making them shine like emeralds and glisten, as slippery as his thoughts. “You don’t need all your lovely servants around the house. Just enough to make sure you’re nice and happy. Nice and relaxed. Nice… and… pleasured…”

Chris’s thoughts fixed on that point. “P-pleasured?” he breathed.

“Yes,” Gabina giggled, sliding down his waist, to his lap, halting there where her big, green tits hovered above his poor, neglected, throbbing cock. “Pleasured.”

She leaned in, and wrapped her oiled tits around his shaft.

“Mnnnnnn!” Chris moaned, head falling back onto the laps of his two other maids, his breath steaming with lust as Gabina began to rub her oiled tits around his twitching manhood. His tentative grip on his thoughts was shattered. He moaned with helpless lust as his maid began to pump his cock between her oiled tits.

“After all, master, you’re not dumb,” Gabina crooned.

“Noooo?” Chris moaned as he panted and bucked, pumping his cock between those wonderful tits. His shaft glistening with oil.

“Oh no, master. Not dumb. Just a bit of a bimbo. Just a silly bimbo.”

“Mmm,” Chris moaned, smiling dimly. Oh. A bimbo. He could do that. He could be a bimbo. He certainly felt like it. Just a moaning, mindless mess in the hands of his wonderful maids.

“Oh yes, master. A bimbo isn’t dumb. He’s just a bit ditzy. A little silly. Well, a little dumb, maybe, but that’s why he has such clever maids around. To make sure he’s nice and taken care of. Nice and safe. Nice and happy and silly and easy.”

“Oooooh,” Chris moaned. He liked the sound of that. He liked the thought of being a happy bimbo. He bucked and thrust ever more eagerly between her big tits. “Yesssss!”

“Silly bimbo,” the goblins at his head crooned, leaning down, kissing his helpless face with big, wet smacks of lipstick. “Poor silly bimbo.”

“That’s okay, though,” Maggria crooned. “We like silly bimbos.”

“Oh gosh yes,” the other goblin giggled. “They’re just the best!”

“Bimbo master. Bimbo lord. Bimbo master,” the two goblins chimed, leaning down, peppering his face with kisses that tingled and sparked across his sensitive skin.

“And good bimbos cum for their pretty maids,” Gabina giggled, his cock cresting the globes of her tits like the mast of a ship, lost a second later as the waves of her oiled breasts rose again. “They cum all their silly brains out for their wonderful goblin maids. They just relax so much they lose all their silly thoughts. Can you do that for us, master? Can you cum out your silly thoughts? We really need you to say yes. A good bimbo always says yes.”

“Y-yessssss!” Chris cried out. He wanted to be a good bimbo so bad! And it was so easy. So easy to just relax. Just let it go.

And be washed away by the sweet waves of pleasure as he came.

His cock pumped; every burst of his seed accompanied by a hot gasp escaping his lips. He pumped his cum with surrender. He pumped his cock with joy. He pumped and came while his eyes spun, swimming with heady pleasure as he sank into the mindless bliss of orgasmic joy, his cock glistening with oil.

As he came down from that height, Gabina giggled and lifted her green breasts, licking the cum from those plump orbs. “Mmm. What a generous master. He deserves a reward.”

“Yes he does,” Maggria crooned, stroking his cheek playfully.

“He so does,” Ladina agreed.

“D-does…?” Chris sighed.

“Absolutely,” Gabina said, rising, crouching above his cock, her velvety pussy dangling over him. The sight of the beautiful goblin above him stirred Chris anew, and his cock rose once more as if magnetically drawn to that silken cunny. Gabina smiled. Or was it smirked? “Good bimbo masters deserve all the pleasures in the world.”

Chris didn’t argue, even if he could find the words. And when she descended, her pussy swallowing every inch of his sensitive cock, words were the furthest thing from his admittedly simple mind.

Chris threw back his head, a trebling moan escaping his lips as Gabina began to bounce atop him. His cock throbbed within her tight depths, the short goblin moaning eagerly as she fucked herself atop him. Took him to the root again and again. Her eyes were warm and eager with pleasure. Her lips parted and panting, her breasts bouncing.

Chris saw no more, because Maggria took that opportunity to plant her own slick cunny on his face, and at once the master of the house was eagerly licking out his maid, tasting her sweet juices as she giggled and moaned, rocking her hips, riding his face.

“What a gooood master. What a wonderful bimbo… Oh yes… yesssss! Oh master, you were absolutely… mnnnn… perfect. Perfect ah… hah… master for a goblin maid,” Gabina moaned.

“Mnmm,” Chris could only moan, his mouth busy pleasuring Maggria.

“And we’re… ah… we’re all gonna be so happy together! Just a big manor filled with your goblins servants. So many… nnnn… so many giggling girls all so happy to s-serve you… To serve our wonderful bi-ah! Bimbo boy. Oh gods yessss! Yesss! Oh baby yes. Give me your cock. Oh yes. Master. Master! Yes! Masterrrrrrr!”

She came, her orgasm almost as thunderous as his. Chris cried out, the last of his resistance, the last of his thoughts, slipping away as he pumped his cum again into his wonderful, beautiful, perfect goblin maid. He almost didn’t notice when Maggria shuddered, cumming as well, drenching his face in goblin juices.

Breathing hard, Maggria got off his face, and Gabina his cock. Chris whimpered at the sense of loss, but Gabina was instantly at his side, giving him a loving kiss. “Don’t worry, master,” the goblin giggled, her eyes shining with delight. “I’ll be back soon. Just have to see the village council and your friends to tell them about the new… arrangement.”

“Ah… I… ah…” Chris panted.

“But don’t worry!” Gabina giggled, patting his cheek. “You’ve got plenty of goblin maids to keep you happy. And I promise to hire plenty more.”

Chris’s worries eased. He relaxed atop the bed, moments before Ladina moved over him, and buried him once more beneath a green muff. As he began to lick, he reflected on how much easier life had gotten since he hired his new maids.

And as he felt Maggria once more put her talented lips to work on his cock, he knew he was going to be very happy with his new servants after all…

#femd0m #bimbowned #brainwashing #bimboization #goblin #corruption #jay aury #goblin maid #fdom #msub

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